#my roommate can attest to it too I was loud

[piraticoctopus]

Big fan of how in online tera battles it shows your pokemon’s nickname to everyone cause the other day I saw a trainer named “Eat My Ass” with a skeledirge named “Trade if gay”

[jensky2000]

In case you haven't heard, I started a new fanfic on AO3. It's a WIP. The first 5 chapters are posted. More to come in two weeks. (or less.) A wee peek below ⬇️ (Readers can attest. Nothing is what it seems in this story.)

"I Love Her First"

In a small three block radius in Glasgow, Scotland, Claire owns a flower shop and Jamie is a firefighter. Claire and Jamie are best friends and roommates. Claire is in a relationship with Frank. Jamie is happily single. Claire and Jamie's friendship is different than most, but it works for them. When things progress with her and Frank, Jamie has to admit to his real feelings before it's too late.

Chapter 1 "The Firefighter"

I set both slow cookers to low. It will be ready before dinner break with plenty of time to spare. I can see everything from the top floor of the firehouse. The sun is well over the horizon. The shops are open, and a few people meander along the street. Howie, Mr. Johnson’s son, parks in the fire lane in front of his father’s shop. He has been warned a dozen times for that. Agnes across the street waters her flower boxes. She lets them overflow while she waits to catch a glimpse of Mr. Johnson. Her neighbor will complain about the puddles on the sidewalk. It’s a very quiet and predictable neighborhood. Quiet is good and it has been all night. The rest of my crew are sleeping. I have an hour before dayshift shows up. I make myself comfortable on the couch and flip through the channels. My phone buzzes next to me. I tap on the screen. My roommate.

Claire: Sorry I used the last of the milk for my coffee. Could you maybe pick some up on your way home. Please. You know I hate shopping for food. Also Frank is picking me up at the shop for an early dinner before he leaves.

Jamie: I will pick up milk and anything else we need. Send me a list. Have fun with Frank.

Have fun with Frank. Frank and fun do not belong in the same sentence. She loves him. And she’s my best friend and roommate so of course I need to be supportive. Frank and Claire have been together since our final year at Uni. Frank is older. She met him at a party. Ironically the one party Claire went without me. I was on a date. If I was there, things would have played out differently. I would have steered Claire away from Frank. It’s not that I don’t like him. Not at all. He’s fine. He’s just Frank. She can do much better.

Claire: You’re the best. See you later.

Hm. I drop the phone next to me and find a mindless show to pass the time.

I must have dozed off because before I know it I hear the banging of the lockers downstairs. “Jamie, my boy. You’ve done it again. Smells incredible. What is it?” Dougal, the fire chief, deep voice echoes in the quiet lounge.

“My Ma’s beef stew. I may have tweaked the recipe. Threw in some extra spices.” I stretch and look at my watch. “In 7 hours turn the knob to ‘keep warm’. You’ll be all set to eat.”

He searches the counter. “Did you make the biscuits too?”

“Aye. They’re in the fridge with instructions.”

“Ah you’ve done good, kid. Now get out of here.” He pats me on the back. I take one step towards the door and the alarm blasts. Dougal rushes to his office. I follow him and lean against the door frame.

He looks up from the screen. “Fire at Sullivans Bakery. We got this. Go.”

“You sure?”

“Go. You need your sleep.” He waves me off. I grab my things and run down the back stairs to stay out of the way. The sirens blare loud enough to alert the whole neighborhood and surrounding ones too. I head in the direction of the flat that Claire and I have shared for the past four years. It’s three blocks from the firehouse. I stop at the corner store to pick up milk and a few other things. My phone buzzes. Another text from Claire reminding me to feed DB. Our cat. Claire named him David Beckham. I quickly shortened it to DB. I climb the stairs to our top floor flat and open the door. Immediately I feel stifled. Claire likes it a balmy 74 degrees year-round. I on the other hand prefer it frigid. I lower the temp and climb into bed with the tv remote..

Hours later, I wake to the sound of my alarm. The remote sits on the bed next to me. I was asleep before I even had a chance to watch the morning news. The tv hums quietly on the wall across from me. I scroll through the channels. Station after station no mention of the early morning fire at the bakery. It’s in the other direction of Claire’s flower shop so no worries there. I pick up my phone. A bunch of missed texts. Claire sent me a picture of a flower arrangement. She does that when she’s particularly proud of one. A text from Rupert going into great detail about the fire this morning. Electrical. Everyone is safe. That’s the important part. Another text from Chloe canceling our plans for tonight. Time to get up. I shower, throw on a t-shirt and gym shorts. DB naps comfortably on the windowsill. I order a pizza. Half pepperoni. Half plain.

I settle on the couch with the pizza on the coffee table and beer in my hand. The doorknob wiggles. Claire. She always has trouble with the lock. I hear voices. She didn’t bring Frank here, did she? She wouldn’t do that. Not since last time and that disaster. She pushes the door open and quickly closes it. She’s alone. I can relax.

She whispers, “Mrs. Cook is such a talker. I lied and said I wasn’t feeling well to get away.” She looks at the pizza then back to me. “Why are you here?”

“Pfft. Hello to you too, Claire.” I take a swig of beer and take in her outfit for the first time. Sleeveless, tight black dress emphasizing her generous curves, bare legs. I quickly focus on something else before she catches me.

She throws her bag on the counter. “Tsk. You’re cranky.”

“My date canceled.”

“What was her name again?”

I grunt. “Chloe.”

“Aw. Why did she cancel?” She sits next to me on the couch.

“She didn’t say. It was a second date. No big deal. I wasn’t that into her.”

“That’s right. She was the low talker. Played with her hair too much.”

“Mm hm.” I reach forward to take another slice of pepperoni and offer her a slice of plain. She takes it happily. Her tongue moistens her lips after the first bite. She groans and leans forward to see the top of the box. Her dress rides a little higher. Now I’m licking my lips. She hums, “Antonio’s. You went all out tonight.”

She settles in next to me. We sit shoulder to shoulder. “How’s Frank?” I ask because I should.

“Frank. He’s good.” She takes a bite and snuggles closer. I glance at the goosebumps on her thighs. The air is too cold. That will be the next thing she says. “What’s the temperature in here?”

“Don’t you worry about that.” I mumble and close the pizza box. I stretch my legs out on the coffee table, and she does the same. I follow the lines of her long legs. “Frank was ok with you wearing those?” I point to her strappy black stilettos.

“No. Of course he wasn’t. I was eyeball to eyeball with him. I might have been even a little taller. Whatever. They look cute with the dress.”

“Mm hm.” I agree and laugh at something on tv.

“Oh shit. I just remembered what I wanted to tell you!” She grabs my forearm. “Frank wants to get a tattoo. Can you believe it?”

“Uh no. Frank. Christ no. What and where?”

“The symbol for doctors. Whatever they call that…on his bicep. He’ll never go through with it.” She shrugs. “It’s a pity. I do think they’re sexy.”

“You do?”

“Oh yea. Major turn on.”

“Really? Do you think I should get one?”

She twists her body to face mine. “Hm. I think one right here would be hot.” She places her hand on my left pec and squeezes. “Your fire station number or truck. Flames. Or…” She traces a design with her fingertip. I grab her wrist and kiss the inside.

Her breath catches. “Jamie.”

“Claire.” I hold her gaze.

“What are you thinking?” She bats her lashes.

“I’m thinking my date cancelled. Frank’s gone. It’s still early.  I thought maybe we could…” I waggle my eyebrows.

She holds back a smile. “I mean we’ve already seen all the latest releases on Netflix.”

“True. And you’ve been stressed with work and such.” I toy with the hem of her skirt.

“It does relax me. Will you go down on me?”

“Aye. If you like…” My cock twitches.

“I like.” She giggles. I stretch my neck and ask for her mouth. She holds up her finger. “Ah ah. You know the rules. No kissing.”

“Claire.” She has all these stupid rules. No kissing. No sleeping in the same bed. Not during the day. She used to make me shut the lights too. I got that one overturned. I want to see her.

“Jamie.” She gives me a stern look.

“Fine. Take your panties off.”

She stands before me and raises her dress. Tiny black lace panties. A scrap of fabric. A thrill runs through me knowing Frank hadn’t a clue what his lass had on under her dress. But I do. Fuck I do. I salivate knowing what comes next. She pushes them over her hips. I slide to the floor and rest my head back on the cushions.

“Sit on my face, Claire.” My voice is hoarse with desire. She straddles me and lowers her body until she meets my mouth. I have the best view in Glasgow. No. The world. She holds onto the back of the couch and rides my face. I’m relentless. I want her to come and quick because I’m aching for my turn. I clasp onto her hips and double my efforts. She calls out. Nothing incoherent either. She’s very clear. My name followed by instructions. It’s a major turn on. I don’t care if the whole building can hear us. Yeah our neighbors suspect something. Frank doesn’t. That’s all the matters. Because if he found out I fuck his girlfriend, she would end this. And that cannot happen.

“Oh God, Jamie. Yes. Yes. Don’t stop.” She holds my head in place as she comes all over my chin. I lick up every last drop. She moans. “Christ. You’re so good at that….”

I pant, “Get down here and ride me.”

“Don’t you want me to return the favor?” She moistens her lips. I’m tempted. Very tempted.

“Next time. You’re tight and soaking wet. I want to be in you.” I push my gym shorts down. My cock springs free. “Get on.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Condom.” I open the coffee table drawer and she takes one out of the small box hidden in the back. We learned a long time ago to keep them close by. She rips the wrapper off with her teeth and covers my cock. She lowers herself down taking me whole. My head rolls back. I pull her dress off and undo her bra. She likes to stay covered. I’m not having it. I like her breasts bouncing in my face.

"Did you feed remember to feed DB?" She changes her angle. Christ.

I grunt. "Yes. I fed him."

"I'm worried about him. He's moving slower than normal." She pants as she picks up the pace.

"He seems fine to me."

“Jamie.”

“What?”

“I’m going to come again.” She bucks her hips furiously.

“Ok, so?”

“I didn’t want to catch you off guard. Then you’ll get excited and it will end too soon. You hate that.” She never stops riding me. We’ve gotten very good at having full conversations while fucking.

“I do. But contrary to what you think, I do know when you’re close. There’s no catching me off guard.”

“You know?”

“Aye. Your walls squeeze my cock so tight sometimes I think you are going to break it off.” I smirk. “There’s other signs too.”

“Like what?”

Careful. “Other stuff.”

“Tell me.”

“You make noises.” And your face has the sweetest, sexiest expression sometimes I think about it when I’m not with you, and I get hard.

“I do not.” She pouts. It’s too cute. I lift her up and slam her down. My balls are getting tight.

“Oh aye. And loud too.”

“Do I feel like I’m close now?”

“No. But I can make you.” I bite my lip and sit up straight until her legs spread wider. I take her nipple in my mouth and suck hard. She whimpers and her head rolls back. That’s it. There we go.

“Oh Jamie. Yes.”

“You’re tight and very close. Ride me and we’ll come together.” And she does. My balls ache. She’s going to have rug burn at this rate. “That’s it, lass.”

She frowns.

“I mean, Claire.” I give her a tight smile. She laughs. It does something. It vibrates through her. Through me. There we go. Her mouth pops open. I’m tempted to kiss her. As I always am. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s only natural. I slam her down one last time. We both call out. I can almost hear our neighbors cursing us out.

I rest my head on her shoulder while we catch our breath. She goes to pull away. I bite her. “Jamie! Let go.”

I release my grip. She stands and walks away still wearing her stilettos. I watch from the living room floor. She’s right. It’s never long enough and I hate it. She tosses me a box of tissues and a water bottle before she enters her bedroom. Minutes later I hear her shower running. I would join her if this was more than sex but it’s not.

[jedipoodoo]

The One I Have Been Waiting For (Wrecker x Pregnant!Reader)

Notes: to the sweet, sweet anon who sent in this request, you made my entire life. My roommates can attest to the fact that I squealed and kicked my legs up in the air when I received this. Bless up 🙏 @angelqueen27

For everyone else, the request was for the reader to tell Wrecker that they're pregnant. I had lots of fun looking up reveal ideas for this one 🥰

Warnings: Mostly fluff, but this reader is struggling with infertility, so there are references to Wrecker and the reader trying for a long time to get pregnant/have kids. I also tossed in some of the other Batcher's kids for extra fluff.

"Are you alright?" Tech asked.

The image on the monitor stared back at you.

"Can...can you check again, just to be sure?" your voice cracked, hardly above a whisper.

Tech nodded. "Would you like me to get Wrecker, or-"

"No, no, I'm fine," You pulled up your shirt again so that Tech could apply the cold jelly before waving the ultrasound wand over your midsection again.

The holo you had just seen disappeared, replaced by a very similar image.

"Congratulations," Tech said quietly. He almost couldn't believe it either.

"You are pregnant."

Tears trickled down your cheeks, barely concealing the tidal wave of emotion that swelled in your chest.

After years of trying, of watching Omega grow and all of Wrecker's brothers and their partners have their own kids, you were finally having your own.

"How healthy is it?" You asked.

"Quite healthy," Tech zoomed in and out on the image to be certain, "I'd say about nine weeks along from what I'm seeing here."

"Out of thirty six." You exhaled deeply.

Tech smiled, "Are you alright?"

You rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand, but that couldn't hide your smile, "I've gotta tell Wrecker."

Tech smiled, "Anything the rest of us can do to help with that?"

You bit your lip. You wanted to celebrate, but you were worried about getting ahead of yourself. What if something went wrong?

No, you wouldn't think about that now.

"I want to do something fun. Something memorable."

"You deserve to, you've been trying for a long time," Tech was already typing furiously on his ever-present datapad.

"I could get some Mantell Mix and use it to spell out "Congratulations Dad!"?"

"Juvenile. Try some meiloorun fruitcake."

"I can't make a cake in ten seconds, Tech!"

"So we're going for fast and furious here?"

"Fast and furious with what?" Omega asked as she entered the medicenter. Crosshair's ade was balanced on her hip, with Hunter's little Cece holding onto her pants leg as always.

Tech looked to you for approval.

"I'm pregnant." You said. Saying it out loud sent a thrill down your spine. Omega's jaw slackened.

"You are!?"

"Shh!" Tech waved his hands wildly, "They want to surprise Wrecker!"

You nodded with a giddy smile flushing your cheeks. Omega beamed back at you.

"I have to have AZI catch his reaction on camera!"

You snapped your fingers. "That's it!"

"What's it?" Tech asked.

"He's been bugging me for weeks now that he wants a new holo of the two of us to take with him when he goes on missions, but I haven't been feeling up to it for..." You waved to your body, "... Reasons that now seem obvious."

Tech nodded seriously.

"Instead of having us say something funny, I need you to tell him that I'm pregnant. It'll catch his reaction in real time!" your heart beat faster with your plotting. You couldn't wait to tell your riduur what had happened to the both of you.

"Perfect." Omega grinned.

"I suppose it wouldn't take too much time." Tech adjusted his goggles.

"So you'll take the holo for us?"

"Of course," He stood, "Omega, will you go find Wrecker, please?"

"Oh!" Omega stood up taller, "I just remembered, your riduur wanted me to get you, they need help changing the twins' diapers!"

Tech took off at a sprint, and you fluffed your hair with one hand. Usually you would be worried about wearing makeup or the perfect outfit, but you were too anxious to tell Wrecker right now. You could do a maternity photo shoot later.

Omega and Cece helped you find Wrecker out in the stables, feeding the fathiers and banthas.

"Ba'vod'u!" Cece shrieked, running up to him.

"Hey!" Wrecker swung his niece up into the air and set her on his shoulder, before taking Asher from Omega and giving him the same treatment. Not one to be left out, Omega hopped up on a bale of hay and leaped at Wrecker's back, looping her arms around his neck.

"Look out! Cargo coming through!" Wrecker warned, swinging the kids back and forth as he took huge, exaggerated strides towards you.

All the kids squealed with delight.

"Man, this cargo sure is noisy," Wrecker grinned at you, leaning in for a kiss. You reciprocated. It always made you weak in the knees to see Wrecker with the kids that lived on your little farm. And now one of your own would join the throng.

"How're you, Cyare?" He set the kids down and cradled your head in the palm of his hand.

You placed your hands around his wrist. It never ceased to surprise you how gentle his hands could be. They were never raised in ire at you, or the kids, or even at his brothers, who could take a little roughousing. Despite what the Republic intended him to be, Wrecker was the sweetest, gentlest person you had ever met, caring for every stray tooka that wandered through the fields and staying up all night when the new calves were born just to make sure they saw the morning light.

He was going to be a wonderful father.

You couldn't let your observations slip from your tongue just yet. It was supposed to be a surprise.

"Is now an okay time to take that holo you wanted?"

His face lit up with a fresh grin. "Absolutely! Just let me fill up Rex's trough here-" Wrecker grabbed a bag of feed, dumping it front of the largest bantha you owned. Cece gasped in delight at the magical sound, and Asher tried to grab a handful of the feed for himself.

"Nah-uh-uh, that's for banthas, not for little boys!" Wrecker tossed Asher across his shoulder.

"Me too! Me too!" Cece made grabby motions at Wrecker, and he plopped her on his other shoulder.

The five of you made your way back towards the family house through the fields of tall grass. You held onto Wrecker's arm tightly as Wrecker held his niece and nephew securely on his shoulders, and Omega dawdled along, as curious as ever about every stone and flower you passed.

Everyone else was waiting on the front porch when you made it back, and by the smug look on Crosshair's face, Tech had already told them all.

"Alright," Tech held up the holocam as Hunter and Cross took their respective kids back.

You and Wrecker stood together on the path leading up to the house. The hills and endless grassy fields fading to conifer trees made the perfect background in the setting sun. He tucked you under his arm, and you placed one hand on his chest.

"Say, 'we're going to have a baby'!"

You were silent, listening for Wrecker's reaction.

He was halfway through the phrase, completely believing that Tech was taking a holopic instead of a holovids.

"We're gonna have a..." His voice trailed off, all eyes expectantly on him.

His chest shook beneath your hand, and you turned to look up at him. "Wrecker?" you asked softly.

You were instantly enfolded in his arms and he buried his face in your shoulder. You could already feel the hot tears against your cheek as you caressed the back of his head. The tears you'd dammed up for yourself began to flow as he picked you up and spun you around. Even the babies were quiet, letting the two of you have this moment to yourselves.

"You're pregnant," Wrecker clarified, taking a breath to look you in the face.

You nodded, "I'm pregnant. Wrecker, we're gonna have a baby."

You clung to each other again. The two of you were shaking so badly from the sheer joy that you might collapse if you let go of each other.

"I'm gonna be a buir," Wrecker laughed, and you did too.

"We're gonna be parents, Wrecker." You kissed the side of his head, "We're gonna have a baby."

"We're gonna have a baby," Wrecker repeated. Cradling you in his arms, he turned to his brothers. "We're gonna have a baby!"

The rest of them burst into applause and whoops. The ad'ike didn't really understand what was going on, but they were excited and clapped too, especially when ba'vod'u wrecker picked up each of them and gave them each a big kiss on the cheek.

He came back to you, he always did. After years of trying and years of disappointment, he always came back to you. He loved you, and you loved him.

And together, you would both love this little one you had waited so long for.

-

Post-Script: Imagine Wrecker's babies being the tiniest compared to the rest of his brother's kids 🥺🥺🥺🥺

[youarejesting]

Love Listening

[MASTERLIST]

Beta: @tinysweetscrown​ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader, Reader x Yoongi Genre: Smut Warning: Auralism (sexual sounds), Masturbation, oral sex (m & f receiving), penetrative Sex, voyeurism. Words: 3.6k

You had been roommates for a few years now, really great ones so you thought. Taehyung was handsome, kind, and witty, a gentle guy who enjoyed some eccentric hobbies and rarely started beef. You liked him for sure but not romantically and any feelings you may have had didn’t take over your life. He always brought home different girls and you had your books and loud music to drown it all out. Other than that, the two of you lived in harmony, eating and talking trash together. 

Things between work and home had been going great. You felt like you were finally getting somewhere with your work. It took months to get this ahead in paperwork, that is until your boss surprised you with a document you had forgotten to include. Months of work you had to redo, because he didn’t give you all the required documents. Bitterly you remember asking for this form a week ago and being told he would send it over email, but obviously never did. Thankful for the completed worksheets in front of you, it made writing new ones easier. 

Before you could end your shift your boss asked you to stay a little longer, just to discuss how the edit was going. Explaining that you were halfway through, he lectured you about making sure to remember every document before beginning a task. His lecture went so long you glanced at the clock. You would have to race to the bus if you wanted to make it on the last trip of the night.

You were running down the street when the bus passed by, causing you to curse loudly. Taking out your mobile, you called for a taxi, paying the man and collecting your bags. You realized you had left your wallet in the cab and had to call them back. As you waited for the taxi outside the apartment building where you lived, it began raining. Seriously what was today? 

With your wallet returned, you entered the rooftop apartment. You never understood why these apartments always were the setting for so many K-dramas. You had gotten into a discussion with your good friend Seokjin; both agreeing that the rooftop was the worst due to the heat. So the rain was your saving grace. Fighting the keys in the lock, you were quick to shed your bag on the hook by the front door. 

Stepping into the apartment. It was a modern style, everything open directly from the front door was the living room, behind the couch was the dining table and behind that the kitchen. On the other side of the living room was a hall that led to the bedrooms and bathroom. It was cozy. You really enjoyed living in the small home. 

Even if at night the pipes in the ceiling rattled ominously, or that you didn’t have a proper laundry and as it was just a washing machine in the cupboard by the dining table. But there were so many good memories within the apartment, like the couch you and Taehyung had carried half way across town and broke to get it to fit through the front door. Or the hole in the wall where you both had decided to roller skate in doors and he fell through the drywall.

Yes, you were fond of all the little cracks in the tiles and all the chips in the paint as they were memories that you loved and shared with your best friend and roommate. The very same roommate you had walked in on getting dressed up in the living room. He was buttoning up a dress shirt, when he noticed you across the room.

“Okay, how do I look?” he said, while you hopped out of your shoes and coat, which you put away neatly in their rightful places. 

“What’s the goal for the night?” Eyes sliding up and down his form. 

“To get some,” he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Then you look good” you threw him two thumbs up. You walked to the washing machine, which was hidden inside a cupboard in your small apartment and began stripping from your drenched work uniform, standing there in only your bra and underwear. 

You were both comfortable with each other, but this was no rom-com. You were pretty sure if he liked you, he wouldn’t fart in your room at night and run away laughing. Taehyung noticed your appearance with a laugh. “An umbrella,” he said with his finger in the air as if he had had a profound idea before running off to find one.

With the washing machine set you wondered what you would do in the house by yourself tonight, you walked down the hallway towards your room. Pressing the bedroom door open you were met with a strange sight. There was water all over your bed and dripping onto the floor “TAE! What did you do?”

“What? I didn’t do anything” He stepped in inspecting your room and his mouth fell open. “Oh no”

The rain you had praised earlier was another omen of bad luck. There must be a leak, and a big one at that, in your roof and it completely soaked the bed. Taehyung was quick to call the landlord, who said they would send someone to inspect it the next day. 

Did you do something wrong in this life or a past life, why did you deserve this? You pushed your bed aside and placed a large bucket under the drippage, pacing and nervously looking around at all your treasured items. Taehyung loosened his tie, sending a text to his current fling that he was unavailable.

"Hey shh, it's okay listen, we are Bro's I have extra space in my room. I will make room and we can move your bed and any valuables in case something happens." You spent the evening moving everything, you couldn’t believe he canceled his evening with his latest girl,Alana. She was really pretty. 

"Sorry about your girl?"

"It's all good, she can’t resist me” he gave a cheeky box grin.

Dinner and movies helped you forget about the disasters in your life. You both laid in Taehyung’s bed while your mattress was upright in the corner of the room, drying. 

The digital cloak on Taehyung’s bedside table began to blur, the soft blue LED numbers ticking over. You were in a haze like sleep, when you heard heavy breathing and whispering. A woman’s voice talking quietly seemed to really pull you from your sleep state. Taehyung was face timing Alana. 

You tried to ignore it, but their hushed whispers became muffle giggles. You heard the blankets move slowly and cautiously. Taehyung shushing Alana while she purposefully tried to exaggerate her sounds. The out of breath words, became soft moans accompanied by the slow movements against the blankets that gently bounced the mattress. There was a sticky wet sound that you knew was his hand pumping around his shaft.

How you wanted to look. Each new sound sent a volt of electricity through your body. The dirty talk increased.

“You are such a little slut,” Taehyung growled. “You couldn’t even wait, one night”

“I want to come so bad,” Alana’s sickly sweet voice spoke through the phone and you wanted nothing more than to throw the phone. “I want to see”

“Fuck, I wish I was there right now, I would sink this thick cock so deep baby” He moved the blankets aside and the sounds were clearer almost deafeningly loud. How did he not know you were awake. “God I want to fill you up”

His hand moved faster, sounds of air pushing past his lips like he was trying to muffle it with tight lips, but it was too powerful to prevent. He came. His voice was a low growl, you could practically feel it in your own throat, it was so raw. 

His cry broke mid climax and his hips bucked into his closed fist. The imagery and sounds had you soaking through your panties, you tried lying as still as possible to not let Taehyung know, you heard it all your heartbeat strumming mercilessly against your clit. 

He leaned over the bed shuffling around.

“I gotta go and clean up” Taehyung sounded a little frustrated. He was panting, whispering a quiet thank you as he said goodbye to Alana.

“Fuck, I didn’t think I was going to cum so fast, it’s okay Tae it’s only for a few days until the roof is fixed” Taehyung leant over the side of the bed rummaging around before readjusted the blankets with a deep sigh and falling promptly to sleep. 

His soft rhythmic snores attesting to his workout. You however were not so lucky, unable to fall back asleep. Feeling guilty and ashamed for listening. You felt like a creep, but he must have known the risk by doing something like this in the same room, in the same bed. 

With Taehyung fast asleep, you shamefully took care of your business, you remembered the sounds and his groans. Recalling them made you desperate, the girl he was on the phone with praised him for how big he was, so you did your best to add a finger more than you usually did, biting your pillow trying to stay quiet. 

The next day you moved about the house, heading to work and forgetting all about what had happened. Work was slow and tedious and by the time it was all over, you were completely exhausted. Hoseok the most energetic and on some occasions the most annoying co-worker you had the pleasure of working with smiled in your direction. Practically skipping over to chat your ear off which usually made you feel better, but you weren’t feeling good at all. The thought of your room slowly flooding and your things being destroyed really put a damper on your work ethic.

You had plans to box everything up and perhaps have it sent to storage while the repairs were underway. Tae had contacted you saying that the maintenance guy came and they had to repair the roof and the ceiling. He also said that he had put your mattress in the sun to dry and would bring it in, when it was dry or before nightfall. This gave you some hope things could get better, putting a little more effort into your work. You would finish it all today you decided, even if you had to stay all night.

Walking inside the apartment you stripped out of your uniform as always and threw them into the washing machine. Stopping yourself from entering your bedroom, you walked into Taehyung’s room, not thinking anything of it. You froze at the sight. Taehyung lay naked, his head back and eyes closed while Alana took care of him. You could see he indeed was  big, bigger than you had thought, and much bigger than your own finger the other night. Sneakily crawling across the room while the two were busy in their activities, you grabbed your over sized sweater and yoga pants before turning to crawl out of the room,trying not to startle or disturb them. 

Turning to exit you paused momentarily in the middle of the room, when you finally gave in to your urges and took a peek. Taehyung had a firm grasp on Alana’s head and was thrusting hard, You could hear Alana gagging at the sheer size of him. The sucking sound squelching as he fucked her throat, as it tried to close around him, rejecting him. What a waste, he should at least be with someone who could take him, you thought. Clearly not you, you weren't any better yourself. 

You escaped, but the images you witnessed had lit a spark between your hips. You headed out, leaving the apartment, deciding it was almost too dangerous to stay. Also it was kind of frustrating and weird to just sit in the living room and listen to the two enjoying themselves. A mix of respecting their privacy and the growing urgency of her own sexual frustration.

Yoongi’s apartment was nice. He was a music producer and worked with many of the latest artists. He was a friend, whom you had a history with, and you were sort of banking on the fact that because of  said ‘history’,he might help you out. 

Knocking on the door, you waited patiently. Min Yoongi wasn’t the type to rush. He answered tiredly and thoroughly confused to see you. "Hey what's up?" 

"Yoongi I need to ask you a favor”

"Okay," he allowed you in with a swing of his arm, stepping back to allow you inside. You barely made it past the threshold before you asked him.

"Remember that time we both got drunk at  Jin’s New Years’ party?"

"Uh, the time we agreed would be better if we didn't talk about?" he eyed you curiously.

"Look I still don't want to talk about it, but did you hate it?"

"No, you sucked my dick why would I hate that?"

"Can I do it again?"

He stared in shock, a little concerned as to why you were really here. "Why?"

"Look I am pent up, and I need a dick in my mouth and I trust  that we can do this and it means nothing at all, you won't call me up to ask me how I am feeling and it won't be awkward. So would you be interested in a free BJ?"

"I mean I don't feel like it, you know? I'm not really in the mood," he shuffled, running his hands through his hair. 

"Oh okay, that's fine then" You nodded and went back to the entryway ready to put on your shoes and leave. Yoongi grabbed your arm, not looking at you, but leading you further inside his apartment.

"Hey woah, I didn't say I wouldn't help. You are frustrated and I don't need it, but I would be more than happy to help you."

You looked at him and he patted the dining room table, "Sit up here, you caught me at a good time. I am hungry," he licked his lip. Carding his fingers through your hair, brushing it off your neck and inhaling the sweet smell of your skin. His dexterous fingers sliding to the front of your jeans as he whispered dirty things into your ear.

“What do you want me to do?” he said, palming and massaging your thighs slowly. You moaned, grabbing his hand and dragging it closer to your core. He retracted his hand back quickly “Use your fucking words or you will get nothing, I don’t want to play” He was set in his ways. Yoongi never messed around nor was he someone for anything implied. He was a man who liked things to be direct and clear. So of course he wanted the same thing when it came to your consent.

“Can you?” you blushed “Eat me out?”

“You want me to taste this pretty pussy baby, I want to thank you for the New Years party,” Yoongi popped the button of your jeans grabbing the tiny slider on your zip between his thumb and forefinger. He not only pulled the slider down the teeth of the zip, he also pressed his knuckles into your skin grinding down against your clothed heat. 

He pushed you to lean back on the table and ripped the denim from your hips and followed with your underwear. He watched you shiver from the cold air and pulled up a seat at the head off the table, his gaze strong. He didn’t bother taking off your sweater as he didn’t feel it necessary. Self-conscious you pulled your knees together and he slapped the curve of your hip in a warning causing you to let your knees fall open again.

“Now I can see how pretty you are glistening in the light, you still want this?” at your verbal confirmation he scooted his chair forward wrapping his arms under your thighs and around to hold them apart. Without hesitation, he dived straight in and your body locked up at the sudden pleasure. It was intense and everything you needed, his pants and growls sounded like he was purring as he pressed his hot mouth against you. 

You loved every minute of it; the way his tongue seemed to move so uniquely and so fast. The way his long thin fingers plunged inside you and curled up, hitting something deep within you that had your hips twitching in response. You were so lost in the feeling and you weren't being quiet. He pulled away panting, resting his cheek against your thigh as he grinning up at you. 

"You taste so sweet" Yoongi breathed, you were shaking and in absolute bliss, something about him devouring you with such gusto made it so much better. After his quick breather, he returned to his task as if it was his civic duty to bring you pleasure. No one had ever been so excited to eat you out. You were so close, your eyes scrunching closed and toes curling. Fantasies of Taehyung playing out in your head, had you releasing the strongest orgasm you had ever experienced.

You came, body tensing in waves and he continued not lowering the pressure until you were completely spent. "I'm not going to lie. I am ready now if you want to continue" Yoongi offered you more. Breathless, your mouth moved saying yes as you nodded, but barely any sound came out. 

He moved you to the couch, casually strolling off to grab a condom from the nearby junk draw. Returning he lowered his sweat pants to his knees and pumped his long length, rolling the thin layer of latex over the head and down to the base. Yoongi’s cock was pretty. He turned to you, and gestured for you to sit on his lap. Yoongi was good at sex, but it just couldn't compare to his expertise in oral pleasure. You remembered Taehyung’s size and frowned. Yoongi had the length but not quite the girth. His voice was deep too, but the tone was off. 

With all your thoughts and imagination on Taehyung, you spurred yourself on, getting closer and closer until you came tightly around Yoongi. Once he was finished he pulled out almost instantly making you feel empty once more. With a content sigh, he gently rolled you off of his lap to lay down on the couch. Tying off the condom, he lifted his sweatpants back into place and moved to the kitchen to dispose of the used contraceptive. "Do you want a drink?"

You nodded your voice too dry from the activities and he sent you a quick smirk.

"Hey, are you two done?" Jimin's voice called from the front door, he was standing in the entrance way, which was blocked off by a divider wall. 

"Oh sorry, Jimin" You pulled your pants back on. Jimin looked between you and raised an eyebrow. 

"So when did you two become a thing?” 

"We aren't, we are bro's and I just needed some help"

"Oh okay," you noticed Jimin's tight pants and you frowned looking at Yoongi, who was looking soft as hell with a gummy grin "I got another round left in me, Jimin come here" the boy beamed and you thanked Yoongi, leaving to give the two men some privacy. 

When you returned it was quiet in the apartment, Alana must have left. You had just started making dinner, receiving a call from Jimin "Hey sorry about walking in on you guys this afternoon. I hope I haven't made things awkward. You don't seem the type to do casual, at least that's not how Tae describes you."

"I am allowed to get horny sometimes, it's not a crime is it?"

"No, you sounded really sexy though, and I was a little jealous that I didn't get to join in." You saw Taehyung had exited his bedroom and was quietly ordering dinner on a phone app and you told Jimin you should go. “Next time if you are horny, you can come to my house.”

“Alright bud, I have to go, but I will keep that in mind.”

"Hey, you came home late?" Taehyung said after waiting for your conversation to end.

"I went to see Yoongi," You added the seasoning to your ramyeon, hoping to finally get a chance to eat.

"Ah his Snap chat makes sense then"

"Why?"

"He is boasting about tongue technology on Snap chat"

"Oh yeah" your voice broke still hoarse from overuse and Tae laughed. 

"Good for you, I was worried you would never get some, my friend, you look happier."

"Thanks, man" This wasn’t what you wanted to hear, but what can you say. Moving through the room to the dining table to eat your dinner, processing your recent actions, which also took place atop a dining table. 

That night you didn’t hear any nightly activities, which meant you fell into a deep sleep. You woke up the next morning and dressed groaning, “Ah my back hurts table oral isn’t very comfortable.” Taehyung coughed into his cereal, he knew you and Yoongi were doing things but you forgot he didn’t know what you two had done specifically but you ignored him. The two of you finished your breakfast before placing your bowls into the kitchen sink and going your separate ways to work.

Work was stressful. You were trying your best and even stayed later than usual. When you arrived home the house was empty, taking the opportunity to follow your usual routine, and even getting to settle into your bed early. 

Woken by the sound of the front door unlocking, the small digital clock on the nightstand read ‘2AM’ in big digital figures. There were giggles, Taehyung and Alana entered the room clearly drunk and shushing each other loudly. 

“We have to be quiet”

“What if she wakes up?”

“It’s okay we are cool, she was doing the same thing just the other day with a friend of mine.”

You heard him unbuckle his trousers, the button popping followed by the zip. Your hearing seemed to enhance each sound bringing a new sensation through your body. The fabric being shed from his body and the accompanied growl, when Alana took him in his mouth. He pulled her off pretty quickly and pumped himself in his hand groaning. It was too dark to see anything but their basic silhouettes in the faint glow of a wall charger. 

You saw him spread her legs wide, the bed moved with a small sound and you heard him groan as he settled between her legs. Her higher sounding whine pissed you off, was it because it sounded fake or because you were jealous. It was making you mad, but you were distracted by his timbre words of encouragement.  

“Oh you feel so fucking good, oh yes so tight,” he paused and pulled back and flipped her over, making sure to bury himself entirely in her once more. You squirmed laying on your stomach trying to mimic the pose she was in. He must have forgotten of your presence or didn’t seem to care, because he slapped her ass hard and continued praising her the whole time. Your imagination went wild and you could almost feel the slap against your skin even though you knew it was all in your head. Finger working quickly, desperate to find your own release. 

This was different, your orgasm was building stronger than you had ever felt before.You didn’t even have enough warning to catch a small whimper of his name. It left your mouth before you could muffle the rest in your pillow, trying to stay completely still even though your body was shaking. You cursed yourself and tried to get some sleep as they continued seemingly unaffected. 

Making your escape early in the mourning, you arrived at the office trying to drown out the thoughts in your head. As always it worked, you were easily distracted. Hoseok was on his day off, so you couldn’t even talk with him about regular office gossip. On the journey home, the thoughts came back quickly, your distraction no more. You stepped through the front door of your apartment and saw the boys all sitting around the lounge room, the place covered in snacks. 

“Hey, you are home” Jimin grinned, leading you to sit down, which wasn't your routine but you were drained physically and mentally.

“Jimin was telling us about the action you and Yoongi had the other day” Seokjin laughed as your eyes flew open and Jimin dropped his head apologizing for letting it slip.

“It’s okay Jimin we are adults and I went to him for help.”

“Yeah but what if something goes wrong, pick some other random guy to get your fix, we don’t need drama within the group” Taehyung scoffed, picking at the hem of his shirt aggressively. What was his problem? Did he think you were going to start a fight amongst your friends, you were adults and knew how to keep things pretty civil. Neither you nor Yoongi had any feelings towards one another.

“Well if you ever need it, we are all willing to help” Namjoon smiled.

“You just want your dick wet” you scoffed standing and walking into your room to get changed. 

“Hey, I won’t say no to that,” Seokjin grinned; Namjoon’s face was slightly pink. 

You all had a great time talking and drinking and after a shower, you went to bed cuddling in your blankets. Returning from his shower Taehyung asked. “Hey, are you awake?” 

Contemplating whether to respond you decided you should “Yeah what’s up?”

“I was wondering um about last night?”

“You must have come home pretty late I didn’t even hear you?”

“You said my name” he stated and you blinked shocked

“I say your name all the time, what do you mean?”

“You were awake last night and you said my name” he breathed noticing how tense you were and how weird you sounded.

“I don’t remember you coming home, were you talking, maybe I heard your voice and responded automatically, I had a weird dream though, that you were running away from a murderer or something and you were hurt.”

He sighed softly, not wanting to push you, even if he had been madly in love with you this whole time. He could wait, no matter how long it took. He had waited a few years now so he was in it for the long run.

If you like my work be sure to check out more on my master list. Remember to show appreciation by a Like | Reblog. 

Check out my latest [Competition] where you can win a free package based on my newest story.

[amandaoftherosemire]

Harry

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU

Pairing: Sam Wilson X Reader

Characters: Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 8,721

Format: One-shot

Warning: Language, (very) mild embarrassment, fluff.

Summary: When Sam Wilson moves in next door, you decide he’s too pretty and too dangerous and determine to mostly avoid him. Sam, on the other hand, wants nothing more than to get to know his pretty neighbor.

A/N: My dear mutual @fashionworld12 (I hope you like it, sweets!!) suggested I write a Sam Wilson fic. I didn’t realize until she did so that I didn’t have a clear voice for Sam in my head, so it took some doing until I was close to satisfied with anything I wrote for him. I loved the challenge and adore her for offering it. And all that is my excuse for why this feels kind of different from my usual fare. I’m diggin’ it, so I hope y’all do, too. 😊

Harry; or Are You Sure That’s A Cat? 

Sam Wilson was laying on his couch with a bag of ice on his ribs, wishing he had a roommate to beg for ibuprofen or Tylenol or whatever. He’d spent the morning tangling with a woman he would swear was enhanced because she had a kick like a mule, as his aching and bruised ribs could attest. The only thing taking the sting out of every breath was the knowledge that she was in custody and wouldn't be hurting anyone else.

He started to get up, thinking of dinner, but as soon as his abdominal muscles flexed even the little bit required to get him off the couch a breathtaking ache exploded through his chest. As he sucked in a breath through his nose to stop from screaming aloud, he fell back onto the couch, deciding he didn't need dinner just yet. More ice and rest, and he'd try again in a little while.

Those crying abs were the reason he didn't move away from the open window, as he normally would, when he heard your cheery greeting come wafting out of your window into his. He loved to listen to you, adored the sound of your voice, but he didn't like to eavesdrop. He generally tried to respect your privacy since he didn't know if you knew you could be heard.

Unless he was sitting with his head on this side of the couch, he couldn't hear what you were saying, could only hear the murmur of your voice. He thought it a lovely sound, soothing in a way he couldn't explain. There was something peaceful about living just on the other side of a not too terribly thick wall from someone so delightfully, wonderfully normal that helped him with the hard parts of going back to a life of violence. Something about the sound of you going about your life reminded him of the reason he'd done so. He'd wanted to make sure people like you got to live your normal, peaceful lives.

Needing a little of that normal had been the impetus for getting an apartment of his own, away from the compound. He'd begun to feel like he lived at work, never got to escape from the omnipresent knowledge of a world full of problems that he couldn't solve because he was only one man. Being able to go home at the end of the day made it easier to bear the things he couldn't fix, the limitations of being one person in a world full of people, and problems.

When Sam had first moved in, he'd assumed, based on the cadence and rhythm of your speech, that you were speaking to a roommate or significant other who was responding too quietly for him to hear. When he had finally been close enough to the window to hear you clearly, he had also heard the chirping, chirruping, purr-meowing that was the hallmark of your cat, Harry.

"Hey Harry!" You called out as you walked through your front door into the kitchen. You dropped your keys in a bowl on the counter, the sound a familiar jangling against ceramic, then set your bags on the floor in a thump before turning to lock the door behind you. "You would not fucking believe the bullshit I had to put up with today."

Sam smiled. He could hear the amused exasperation in your voice and thoroughly enjoyed it. Something about you was incredibly appealing, made him want to get closer. He felt a little guilty staying where he was, but he couldn't bear to move yet, both the ache in his chest and the humor in your voice keeping him still.

Harry chirped and meowed, like she was encouraging you to continue. Sam had wondered on more than one occasion if you and Harry were having actual conversations. He'd seen weirder things, but it was also very likely that Harry was just a talkative cat and you were imaginative enough to play like you could understand her ‘speech.’

Your voice was getting harder to hear, like you were moving away from the window and your shared wall with Sam, but he could still make out the words. "Well, first I had to man the phones, which isn't even my job, but fine, whatever, I'm a team player and blah blah blah, right?"

Sam smiled at the acerbic note to your voice. Whenever he'd met you in the hall, you'd been sweet and polite, but there was something about the twinkle in your eye that made him think you were saltier than you appeared. Sam was only more intrigued; he considered himself a connoisseur of salty sweet.

He couldn't hear Harry, but he knew from experience that the cat responded whenever you paused, which was weird in and of itself. The cat didn't just respond, however; she replied. Sam couldn't explain it, but the sound of the meows and purrs and chirps seemed like communication, like language. You acted like you understood it and replied to questions Sam could almost hear.

Sam wasn't certain Harry was really a cat, unsure if there was a rational explanation for your conversations. He'd hadn’t asked since he’d never managed anything resembling a conversation with you beyond his initial introduction. The two of you rarely ran into each other and Sam hadn't found an excuse yet to knock on your door.

"But then this guy calls in and I can't do anything for him because he's got the wrong department." The volume of your voice was varying wildly, and he assumed you were moving around your apartment. "No biggie; I tell him I'm going to transfer him, but he blows a frickin’ gasket."

Once he thought you were far enough away, he tried again to get off the couch and move away from the window. Another shriek of pain burst across his chest and stomach. As your voice came toward him once more, he stifled the groan of agony and settled back against the couch in defeat. "He gets all 'I won't let you pawn me off on someone else because you don't want to do your job' asshole bullshit."

A soft thump, like you'd flopped onto a couch or into a chair, and a chirruping meow coming loud and clear from your window to his led Sam to conclude you were sitting on the other side of the wall. His couch was against that same wall, and the idea that yours might sit on the other side made him feel like you were only a breath away.

Your tone wry, you continued your story, but now Sam felt like you were talking directly to him. He found himself caught in the irresistible cadence of your voice. "I let him rant a little, then start trying to explain to him that it's not that I don't want to help him, it's because I can't," your voice started to speed in slight agitation and Sam could tell that the interaction bothered you, "but I can get him to the people who can help him but he keeps interrupting me, basically accusing me of being a lazy prick who would rather argue with someone than do my job." Sam smiled at the carefully restrained irritation in your voice. "I'm holding on to my temper when he does something that takes this from regular daily bullshit to unique, notable bullshit. He started quacking."

Fortunately, Harry's purring yowl of what sounded like insult and dismay muffled Sam's snort of laughter. He couldn't decide what was weirder, your story or your cat. When you scoffed out a laugh of horrified disbelief, and went on in a nasal, mocking tone, acting out your conversation, Sam had to lift a hand to cover his mouth, stifling the laughter trying to burst out of him, as well as the moans of pain from his aching abdominals.

"'All you do is quack at me. Quack quack quack quack quack quack quack.'" Your voice dropped, went stern, "'Sir.'" Mocking, nasal. "'Quack quack quack quack quack quack quack.' 'Sir.' 'Quack quack quack quack quack quack quack.'" Then, in a tone that would have made Sam's mama proud, "'Sir. I'm going to have to ask you to please stop quacking at me.'"

Harry was silent; it seemed in shock. Sam wrapped an arm around his middle, holding onto the shout of laughter-pain, trying desperately to not give away that he was listening when you went on in a tone of awed wonder.

"I said that. I HAD to say that to a full-grown adult. What in the actual fuck?"

Sam was curled into a ball, his abs and chest screaming as he strained to keep the laughter bottled up. He had one hand clamped over his mouth and nose, turning his face into the pillow he'd been resting on, hoping that the breaths and snorts that were escaping were too soft for you to hear.

You continued to speak as though you had no idea anyone but your cat was listening. Reassured, Sam worked on calming himself as you went on with your story.

"It worked, though. He stopped long enough for me to get tough and finally finish my explanation that I don't have the authority or the ability to help him, so I am going to transfer him." You laughed a little at this, as though the memory was still unbelievable to you. Sam understood this. Quacking, for fuck's sake.

Harry meowed, and Sam would swear it was a question.

You seemed to think so, too, as you answered as though it was. Sam had no idea what was going on in the apartment next door, but since it seemed harmless, he didn’t see any reason to worry about it, though the seeming mystery fascinated him. The endorphins from the laughing fit had numbed his pain, at least enough to get him up off the couch with only an internal scream of pain.

"Yeah," you were saying, "but my boss was standing right there and she's looking at me like I’m crazy because I asked someone to stop quacking and in her world there's no way that someone could be literally quacking, so what the hell have I done, right?"

Though he was now standing, and his stomach was screaming for food instead of in agony, he needed to hear the end of the story more than he needed his principles. He stayed put.

Harry gave another of her questioning meows. Sam had considered the possibility that you had trained her to do this, but in some way he couldn't explain, it seemed more organic than trained behavior.

"All calls in are recorded. I told her what happened, and the recording backed me up, so it ain't no thing." You started snickering a little now, obviously enjoying the memory. Sam thought your laugh was adorable. "She pulled the recording anyway, so we could listen together. I went into her office right before I left. She laughed like a loon when I asked him to stop quacking at me."

A long, agreeable purr that chirped up at the end. Sam decided to stop thinking about it, because trying to figure out your weird cat was making him crazy.

"Yeah," you replied to Harry's purr, "she's a good egg. Which is why the bullshit didn't get me down." You were laughing, wryly, and Sam couldn't stop himself from smiling softly. “He's one guy who I'm never going to have to talk to again. Not so important in the scheme of things. And now I've got a funny story.”

Sam sighed a little, mildly astonished. Your perspective helped him in ways he hadn’t known he needed. He didn't know how you'd done it, but you'd told a story to your cat that ended up making him feel lighter than he'd felt in a while. You, with your quacking moron, and your wry acceptance of him as an outlier in an otherwise good world, helped him deal with some of the people with whom he'd come in contact these past few years.

Outliers in an otherwise good world.

"Yes," you laughed at Harry's demanding yowl, "now that story time is over, it is dinner time. So bossy."

Even Sam had understood what that one meant.

The slam of your door woke Sam from the nap he'd been taking on his couch. He'd fallen asleep before the sun had gone down and waking into complete dark left him utterly disoriented.

"Well, Harry," you said, sounding somewhere between severely irritated and supremely pissed, "either that guy was engaged in a social experiment to be the most off-putting date of all time or he’s a serial killer."

Purr-row-ow?

Sam looked around, trying to figure out what time it was, what city he was in, his last name. There was a clomping, scrabbling sound fairly close and he could tell you were on the other side of the wall again. When you sighed in relief, he figured out the sound he’d heard was you kicking off your shoes.

"If it turns out to be serial killer and he found out where I live, do me a favor and go get the hottie next door, okay?"

Sam's head snapped up, a smirk pulling up one corner of his mouth. He liked being the hottie next door, but he thought he’d like the sound of his name on your lips more. If he could manage to run into you, he hoped to make that happen. He was determined to get to know you better, and not by being a creep and eavesdropping on you. He lifted a hand and rubbed it over his face, stifling a groan as he did so.

Mrrrrrow?

“He answered every question with one or two words,” you replied to Harry’s chirped question, “asked no questions of his own, and stared right at me the entire time.” Sam rolled his eyes as he rolled to his back, lost in the rhythm of your voice. He found himself vaguely irritated with your date for not treating you right. You deserved better.

“Thank the good lord I only agreed to drinks. I don’t think I could have made it all the way through dinner.” You yawned, and Sam could swear he heard the rustle of fabric. The thought that you might be undressing just a few feet away made him suddenly change his mind; he wasn’t so upset that your date had sucked. He could only be grateful that he still had a chance to show you better.

Another chirping meow of encouragement from Harry and you were going on with your story. Sam told himself to get up, to give you your privacy. He sat up as you said, considering, “He didn’t seem like a weirdo online. Which is why I’m thinking social experiment. Or serial killer.”

Harry made the sound that Sam had started to think of as her laugh. It was a growly rawrrawrrawr that never failed to make you chuckle in response, the sound of which always drew Sam's attention. Sam smiled, forgetting to move out of earshot as the sound of your laughter hit his ear and lit him up.

“I knew it was on its way south as soon as I met him,” you said wryly, then went on in a confessional tone that had Sam’s conscience prodding him to his feet. “I hate to judge on appearance,” you were saying, though, and Sam couldn’t help but stop in his tracks, needing to know how you might judge on appearance, “but the guy’s shirt was multi-colored diagonal stripes and so was his tie, but they didn’t match. At. All.” Sam grinned and relaxed. “Like, neither in color nor in style. Who puts that on, looks in the mirror, and thinks, ‘This is normal; I look normal right now.’?”

Sam covered his mouth to stifle the laughter as Harry made a disapproving sound. The sheer bafflement in your tone was more hilarious to him than anything else. He was irritated with himself for giving into temptation and eavesdropping on you again, but the more time he spent listening to you, the more he wanted to, the more he liked you. He wanted to get to know you for real, let you get to know him. He wanted to find out if you'd like him, too.

You answered Harry's disapproval in a defensive tone, which had Sam smiling again. "No. I’m not wrong here." You sighed again, and the wry tone took over your voice again. You seemed like you were coming down from the aggravation of the evening into an exasperated kind of resignation. "I should have walked out then, but I’m like, clothes don’t matter, clothes can be changed, don’t be shallow." You gave a scoffing kind of laugh. "Fucking hours of my life I’m never gonna get back."

Prrrrrrrr-ree-ee?

You sighed again, this time wistful, and your answer made Sam wonder what you heard in Harry's questioning sound. "Nah, Harry, I don’t really care about the outside." The touch of sadness that took over your voice made Sam want to hug you, but what you said made him want to kiss you. "Inside is what matters and I just want somebody decent, with a good sense of humor," as you spoke, the sadness faded as humor took over, "who’s loyal. And generous. And kind." Sam didn't understand why you sounded like you thought you asked too much. "Hottie would just be a bonus," you finished with a laugh.

When Harry made a sound that Sam could only interpret as a demand, he frowned when you replied, "And of course they have to like cats."

The more he listened to the two of you, the more he wondered if Harry was a cat.

A few days later, Bucky was hanging out on Sam's couch when a small cat with tiny legs came purring around the window frame. She was on the long side of short-haired, calico from her nose to her tail, but her throat, chest, and belly were white. A short snout and big eyes made her look sweet and mixed with the short legs, she was as cute as could be. She chirped and purred as she sashayed into the apartment through the open window, and Bucky's eyes widened at the adorable cat, even as Sam moved forward with a smile, hoping he was about to meet Harry.

"What the fuck is that?" Bucky shouted in astonishment, scooting over to move toward the window. The cat yowled, the tone hostile as both men stopped in their tracks. With a careful couple of hops, she descended from the window to the couch to the floor and trotted forward on her little legs to curve purring around Sam's ankles.

"The cat?" Sam scoffed out a laugh, surprised at the enthusiastic greeting. He bent down to look at the tag on her collar, unsurprised to see the name there, but curious as to why she was visiting now, when she never had before.

"It's fucking adorable." Bucky's face had lit up, and Sam knew he'd be giving the other man a raft of shit for being so charmed by a kitty cat. Then the terrifying soldier leaned forward, his hand out to the little cat with a hopeful smile, and Sam wasn't sure he had it in him to mock the purest expression he'd ever seen on Bucky's face. "The hell is going on with its legs?" The concern in his voice was so palpable, Sam's lips twitched and the urge to tease almost overwhelmed him.

"I don’t know," Sam replied, his voice rich with that humor, as he gently scratched the cat under her short chin. She closed those big green eyes and purred like a motorboat. "It says Harry on the tag, so she belongs to the neighbor. Nice to meet you, Harry."

Sam spoke in a low, warm tone, not entirely certain he wasn't meeting someone who understood him. Figuring he might as well err on the side of caution, he was going to treat Harry with respect. In response, Harry popped up into an arch under Sam's hand as she chirped cheerfully, Mraaah-aa-aa-aah!

Bucky gasped and Sam knew that he would absolutely be bringing that up again. It didn't matter how happy Bucky sounded when he cried, "She just got cuter!" Sam wasn't a damn saint. Bucky was a surly metal-armed soldier-assassin who had just reacted to a cat the same way a six-year-old would have. This was happening.

Harry had apparently forgiven Bucky's earlier rude manners as, chirping the whole way, she trotted over to him to let him pet her. With a happily surprised laugh, he stroked her from her head to the tip of her tail as she arched into his hand with happy growling chirps and chitters. When she spun to go back under his hand with flirty chirps and big soulful eyes, Bucky laughed a little. "Are you sure this is a cat?" he asked, his voice giving away that he was only half-kidding.

“Not really." Sam was watching the little cat with narrowed eyes. She was adorable, and weird, and both exactly like a cat and yet nothing like a cat, very much like what he imagined an intelligent cat would be. Just because she couldn't talk didn't mean she couldn't communicate, but Sam wasn't sure he wasn't simply anthropomorphizing because she was a weirdly vocal cat.

His head snapped up when he heard your voice calling Harry's name. Bucky pushed himself over to the window at the same moment to shove it all the way open and lean out.

"Hey! Sam's neighbor!" he shouted, making Sam hiss in irritation behind him.

You pushed your own window all the way open to lean out and look at the shockingly pretty man waving at you from your hot neighbor's window. "Hi, I’m Sam’s friend, Bucky," the gorgeous brunet said with a smile. You weren’t that surprised to find that not only was your neighbor smoking hot, so too were his friends. "What’s up with your cat?"

You smiled slowly, warmly. He was too pretty to not smile at. "Hi Bucky. I’m y/n. Nice to meet you." You opted to assume he meant her legs. You could explain that. The rest of Harry's oddness you had no explanation for. "She’s a munchkin cat. It’s a mutation that makes her legs short."

Bucky's face fell at the word mutation, too aware of the double edge mutation often possessed. "Does it hurt her?"

You decided you liked Bucky when you saw how concerned he was about a cat he'd just met. You knew others who would never have thought to even ask the question. You sat on the edge of the window and gave Bucky your real smile. Behind Bucky, Sam leaned out at the same moment, going into an immediate mental meltdown at how pretty you were when you really smiled. "She’s okay," you replied, "but some munchkin cats have issues with their joints and spines." You gave Bucky a sad half-smile. "It’s not a mutation that comes without risks. Were you thinking about getting one?"

Bucky shook his head, his face sad as he looked at the cat that had hopped up onto the windowsill next to him to purr and chirp. With gentle fingers, he scratched the top of her little head. "Not anymore," he said softly. With a sad smile back at you, he shrugged a little sheepishly. "Cute doesn’t seem a good enough reason to cause pain."

Your face spread in a bright, friendly smile that included Sam when you glanced at him where he was smiling at you from behind Bucky. "I agree," you replied, grinning at Harry's purring sashay under Bucky's long fingers. "She’s a rescue. The folks that run it are friends." You took one last considering look, though something about him told you Bucky could be trusted, at least with animals. "I can put you in touch if you want."

"Something tells me this cat is unique."

You laughed out loud at the suspicious look he was giving the innocent-looking cat. "Bucky, you have no idea. Harry's an odd creature."

When she chirruped at him, he grinned and crooned, "How'd this little doll get a name like Harry, anyway?"

Your eyes lifted to Sam's, whose were dancing in delight. He was filing everything away, saving it for the perfect moment. He didn't know when the moment would come, but he would be holding this ammunition back until it did. He could hardly wait.

Your eyes danced back at him, enjoying his enjoyment of his friend. You liked the warmth in Sam's eyes as he smiled at you, friendly and appreciative. Something hot passed between you as you grinned at each other over the head of his muscle mountain friend turning to mush over your cat. "She’s a little escape artist," you explained with a wry grin at the tiny cat charming the big, beautiful man, "so she’s named after Houdini."

"Why do you leave your window open if she’ll escape?" Sam asked, the sound of his voice low and warm, like summer honey. You found you loved the sound, wanted him to keep talking.

You shrugged, a little sheepish. You knew Harry was odd; it was your acceptance of her oddness that had led to her living with you. "It’s not escape if you’re allowed to leave. I’m her roommate, not her warden." Harry made her chirp-chirp noise that you interpreted as agreement and you grinned wryly at both men, since they wore matching looks of suspicion. "She stays because she wants to, not because I make her."

Bucky couldn't stop himself; he grinned back at you. For a man who'd spent much of his life in captivity, stripped of his free will, he couldn't help but appreciate your willingness to respect a cat's freedom. Charmed, he laughed a little, "That’s kinda weird, but I like it."

You laughed back, including Sam, who'd laughed as well. "She’s a weird cat. I’m a weird person." With a wink for Sam, you shrugged, "Maybe that’s why she sticks around."

Sam's smile was slow and beautiful and made you feel an insistent tug of attraction. His eyes were dark and warm on your face as he spoke again in that low, smooth voice. "Would you prefer I close my window so she’ll go home?"

You surprised yourself by shaking your head. You were very protective of Harry, but something about these two men told you neither of them would hurt your cat for any reason. And Harry looked like she'd found her new best friend as she closed her eyes and let Bucky scratch the top of her little head, bliss all over her. Based on the look of astonished delight on the pretty brunet's face, Bucky was equally enchanted.

You smiled at Sam, happy that your new neighbor was not only hot, but sweet and polite, too. "Not unless you want her gone." Knowing that you didn't have to worry should Harry get it into her head to go visit was a weight off your mind. You grinned again at Harry and Bucky falling in love. "She’ll come home when she’s done hanging out. Nice to meet you, Bucky." You gave Sam a sparkling smile, the warmth in his dark eyes turning that tug of attraction into a slow burning. "Sam."

Once you'd pulled back inside, you leaned against the wall next to the window with your hand over your heart. You couldn't put your finger on it, but something about the way Sam looked at you made you think he was attracted, too. You didn't know if it was a good idea to get involved, even casually, with your neighbor, but the man was gorgeous enough to make you wonder if it'd be worth it.

Because you were still next to the window, you heard Bucky say quietly, "The neighbor is as cute as her cat." You grinned and stifled a surprised laugh, flattered if a bit bemused. "If you didn’t already have your eye there, I’d be all over that."

 "Who said I have my eye there?" You couldn't quite place the tone in Sam's voice, but it sounded a little self-conscious, like he knew, or was at least afraid that you were listening. It made you wonder how much he'd heard from your apartment since you always left the window open enough for Harry to leave if she felt like it.

The cat in question yowled and the sound was so ripe with skepticism you couldn't help but snort a little. The sound was in unison with Bucky's snort of derision, so you were pretty sure you hadn't been heard. However, you had to press your lips together to keep from laughing aloud when Bucky scoffed.

"What Harry said."

A couple weeks later, you realized Harry was gone again. You left the window open because it had always had a weird reverse psychology effect on Harry. If she had no escape, she found one. If you left a window open, she didn't bother to leave. Except since she'd met Bucky, she'd disappeared three times to go visit him when he was at Sam's.

You had been planning on giving Bucky the number of your friends with the cat rescue, but you almost felt like you'd be getting in the way of his friendship with Harry. She was unique, and you couldn't be sure she didn't have a jealous streak. You felt like she wouldn't thank you for it, but you didn't know if that was just because you over-anthropomorphized her because of her unusual behavior.

That said, you also weren’t certain if you were just telling yourself that because she wasn't really a cat and you didn't want to deal with it because that brought way too many complications into your life. She ate cat food and went in the litter box. She was a cat. She had to be.

Since you didn't want to deal with that, you thought instead of your hot neighbor, Sam. On one of those visits, while sitting on your couch, you'd listened and discovered that in the silence, you could clearly hear what they were saying, not just the murmur of voices. Sam and Bucky teased and ribbed each other almost constantly, their friendship obviously one of adversarial good humor.

You hadn't heard Bucky today, however. Instead, you'd heard the chirps and chirrups that made up Harry's language and realized Sam was talking to Harry the same way you did. Frankly, you'd started listening so hard because it was lonely in your apartment without your odd little cat chattering at you.

To tell the truth, you'd also listened because you'd been wondering about Sam since he sent you that long, hot smile out of eyes like melted chocolate. How could you not, when he was that pretty, when he looked at you like that, all warm appreciation? How could you not listen when he had that voice? Slow and deep and golden like honey, it made you think of cool sheets on humid summer nights, when the storms rolled in.

"Bucky made me promise to tell you he'd be over tomorrow," Sam was saying in that lovely voice, "and I don't know what's weirder: my friend is falling in love with a cat, or that I'm not sure you're a cat."

You smiled, hearing only amusement in his tone, happy to hear the same sort of benign suspicion with which you regarded Harry. You could hear Harry's laugh and smiled to hear Sam's low chuckle in response.

"But he's a hundred-year-old former brainwashed assassin, so he might be weirder than you."

You relaxed into the couch as your cat scoffed and chirped. You'd worried a little when you'd realized who your neighbor was. Avengers tended to draw trouble, after all. Sam was so quiet, however, and Bucky so soft over your cat, you'd nearly forgotten that side of their lives. At the reminder, you had to stifle your laughter at the thought of Bucky’s enemies hearing him talk to your cat. Now that you’d overheard Sam and Bucky’s rapport, you understood the mischievous smile that you’d seen take over Sam’s face in response to that tender croon.

“Or you might be perfect for each other.” Sam was laughing and you found yourself smiling at the sound. He sounded rusty, like he didn't laugh as much as he should. You were surprised to discover that you wanted to fix that.

“If only you could tell me how to get a chance at a conversation with your pretty roommate," he said next and you were clapping a hand over your mouth to muffle the gasp of surprise that tried to escape.

You hadn't really thought about it, but you had, for the most part, avoided Sam since he'd moved in. He was tall and broad and beautiful, and his eyes looked deep and dark enough to drown in. You figured you'd just end up embarrassing yourself if you tried to talk to him, so you'd kept out of his way.

You’d ignored Bucky’s teasing about you when you and Harry had met him. After hearing the way they ragged on each other, you couldn't take it personally. To hear Sam say such things in that honey gold voice was entirely different, however, and made your heart leap in excitement. What if you leaned out of your window and started that conversation?

You hopped off your couch and ran into your bathroom to take a look at yourself. You had the day off, so you hadn't dolled up by any stretch, but you'd also gone to the grocery store, so you weren't a total slob, either. You touched up the little bit of makeup you'd put on that morning and put your hair back into some semblance of order. If the delicious Sam Wilson wanted a conversation, you could make that happen.

Back in your living room, you took two deep, but carefully silent breaths before you pushed your window all the way open and leaned out. “Sam?”

On the other side of the wall, Sam was laying on his couch, a book in his hand as he scratched the purring cat on his chest. At the sound of your voice, he jolted, dropping the book. He scooped Harry up and placed her on the floor before shoving his own window open.

When Sam leaned out to see you, sitting on your wide windowsill, the curve of your lips was as sweet to his eye as your voice to his ear. His face spread in a slow, warm smile, his long dark eyes warming as they crinkled at the corners.

"Did you call my name?" he asked, and the honey of his voice lifted lightly in hope sent a shiver over your skin. Your heart had started to skip and dance when his beautiful face lit up with a slow, sweet smile. His voice only made it race that much faster.

A little breathless, you replied, "Yes, I did." Now that you’d begun, you weren’t sure how to proceed. Then Harry’s big green eyes were peering around the corner at you. Relieved, you smiled at the little cat that had hopped onto Sam’s windowsill to chirp at you. “I was going to ask if Harry is at your place, but…”

Sam laughed a little and scratched the top of Harry’s head, making her eyes close in bliss. “Do you want me to send her home?”

Watching your sweet little cat bask in the affection, and the sweet big man smiling down at her, you wouldn’t dream of breaking them up. You didn’t know what it was about a hot, muscular man gone soft over a tiny animal, but it had made you melt. “No,” you answered, your voice giving you away, so you cleared your throat discreetly and went on, “no, it's fine.”

Unsure what else to say, and feeling a little shy and embarrassed now that you’d started this, you ducked your head and started to pull back inside. You were already cursing yourself for being so awkward when Sam spoke.

Sam saw you getting ready to go back inside and, desperate, he said the first thing that came to mind to stop you. He had the chance he’d asked for and he was not the sort to let it go to waste. “She's so talkative,” he said quickly. When you looked up and smiled at him, he continued, "It must get lonely without her."

You grinned, a little sheepishly. "It really does. Is that silly?"

For the first time, Sam showed his teeth as he smiled and replied, “Not at all.” You’d never noticed the slight gap between his front teeth and found yourself completely charmed by it.

“Why don't you come over?” he asked, hoping he was reading your signals correctly. Busy with the internal meltdown you were experiencing, it took you a moment to understand the question. When it sank in, your eyes snapped to his. Another of those slow, warm smiles. “She can talk to both of us. And I can find out everything about you.”

You huffed out a little laugh, and the smile on your face took on a touch of shy that made Sam want to cuddle you. “That shouldn’t take long,” you flirted, lightly. “I'm pretty boring.”

Sam winked, happy to see that he wasn’t misreading signals, that you were willing to let him get a little closer. “I doubt that, so it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Sam's couch was long and plush, in a chocolate brown that matched his warm, velvet eyes. It also sat against the wall he shared with you, the arm you leaned on next to the open window. He sat against the other arm, Harry purring happily in his lap as she punctuated your conversation with meows, chirps, and purrs of her own.

No matter how it started, the conversation soon flowed. Sam was a wonderful listener, asking questions that showed he was genuinely interested in you, but he didn’t force you to carry the conversation, either. Rather, it felt more like a dance, each of you picking up on the rhythm of the other. Back and forth, it stayed a cheerful sway that nevertheless made your heart race.

After only a short time in his company, you couldn’t continue to feel awkward, no matter how beautiful he was. Being with him was both easy and exciting, as his eyes stayed warm and friendly, but with a heat that thrilled as they rested on you with appreciation.

Somehow, Sam was able, even when he was telling you stories about famous heroes, daring rescues, narrow escapes, to make it seem as normal as a day at the office. Maybe it was because he was a normal human, no matter how extraordinary, surrounded by the unusual and astounding, but his stories always focused on the funny and the weird. You never got the feeling that he was trying to impress you with the cool shit he did or the famous people he knew. You felt like he was trying to share with you the truly interesting part of who he was when he wasn't being normal.

He didn't dominate the conversation, however, encouraging you to share with him as much about yourself and your life as he did. Nor did he focus on his work, instead telling you about his family, his friends, his real life, drawing from you the same. The two of you talked and talked, and the time flew.

"I have a confession to make," he said, hours after you'd sat down, when the sun was low in the sky. His smile was sheepish, and you narrowed your eyes.

"Mm-hmm?" you replied with a raised eyebrow that hid the fact that he'd utterly charmed you over the course of the afternoon. You only hoped that he’d been charmed as well.

"Where you're sitting, next to the window, I can hear you talking to Harry sometimes. I try to avoid it, but I've listened to a couple of your conversations."

You weren’t surprised that he’d heard you from time to time; once you’d overheard him and Bucky you’d suspected he could hear you as well. The chagrin covering Sam made you think that he'd overheard something embarrassing, however, and your stomach dropped. "I see."

Sam's face fell into serious lines at the tone of your voice. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I knew it was rude when I did it." He took a deep breath and told the truth, no matter how vulnerable it made him feel. "To be honest, I like the sound of your voice, and I like your stories."

Your heart racing at his admission, you searched his face for any hint of laughter or irony and found none. Sam only had apology and sincerity over him, and you relaxed a little. "Which stories did you hear?"

Sam smiled a little, relieved that you didn't seem angry. "The quacking idiot. And the date from hell. That’s it, I promise."

You threw your head back and laughed. Both interactions were your weirdest lately, so you knew immediately to what he was referring. You were a little embarrassed that he'd heard you talking to Harry about the date since you'd gotten a little wistful and sad at the end, but the warm look in Sam's eyes made you feel like there was no need.

"A grown-ass adult fucking quacked at me," you said, wonder in your voice all over again at the reminder of that maniac.

Sam laughed, happy that his confession had gone well enough that you were laughing again. He was only more interested now that he'd seen you sparkle and shine. This afternoon had not alleviated the hunger he'd developed for you. The hours together had only whet his appetite.

"I had a couple of bruised ribs that day. Laughing hurt, if that makes you feel a little better about the violation to your privacy." His grin was slow and flirtatious, and you found yourself smiling back. It was hard to stay mad when his apology was so quick and sincere, and his smile was so charming.

"It does, actually," you winked. "Were you hurting on the night of the date-from-hell, too, 'cause I sure was."

"Actually, I was pissed." Sam's face fell back into those serious lines, and his dark eyes were intense on your face. "Some asshole had the chance I wanted and ruined it? What a waste."

Your breath caught, your skin going hot at the look of pure sensual interest that overtook his features, drawing them tight. Unable to think of what else to say, you sighed. "Oh."

Harry, who’d remained mostly silent, ostensibly napping, took this opportunity to purr-chirp at you, the sound indescribable without the word ‘smug.’ If a cat could say, ‘I told you so,’ Harry just did.

Sam grinned down at the little cat in your lap, his face softening, though the heat remained when he met your eyes once more. "I want to be honest,” he said, closing his hand around yours, the heat of his palm spreading through you in a gentle wave, “thought you should know where I stand, before I ask you if you want to get dinner with me.”

Harry chirped at you again, this time the sound encouraging and cheerful. You glared suspiciously down at her for a second, then looked back at Sam, whose eyebrows had climbed up at Harry's little meow.

With a half-smile, and less breath than you were used to, you answered, "When?”

When Sam's face lit up with excitement and he squeezed your hand, his smile made your heart race. "Now?" he asked, and you couldn't deny him if you wanted to.

You laughed, still a little breathless, but liking it. Shrugging, you flirted a little. "I could eat."

Instead of going out, the two of you agreed that you were more comfortable staying on Sam’s couch. Over the course of the afternoon, the two of you had moved closer. Rather than each of you on opposite ends, you were now sitting in the center, turned to face each other, knees touching.

As you laughed and talked your way through watching him demolish a truly astonishing amount of Chinese delivery, you only got closer, leaning forward to snag a potsticker or reaching over the other for the rice. He was so casual and relaxed, you couldn’t help but follow his lead. By the time you'd finished dinner, after-dinner coffee, and a glass of wine, his arm lay along the back of the couch where you rested your head and he had your hand in his, playing with your fingers. The next thing to in his arms, you had whiled away hours in a state of breathless anticipation.

When you, long after you should and deeply reluctantly, took your leave, Sam kept your hand in his as he walked you the few feet to your door.

"Thank you for inviting me over," you said with a smile as you turned to say good night. Your voice was soft, a little shy, but your eyes were warm with invitation. "I had a great time."

Sam saw no reason not to accept. This afternoon with you had been exhilarating, and he had no intention of letting this be the end of it, as long as you were amenable. You were even more appealing, more interesting than he'd thought, and the things he'd learned today had only made him want more. You let him draw you close with a gentle tug on your hand as his free hand came up to place a calloused palm against your throat.

His lips were a velvet counterpoint against that powerful hand, softly teasing, coaxing yours apart with a generous persuasion you didn't want to resist. When his tongue swept between your lips, yours was there to meet it, eager to taste him. You sighed at the flavor, spicy under the tart wine you'd shared.

Sam's knees, always steady under fire, went weak at the sweetness of that sigh. Tenderly, his thumb brushing over the line of your jaw, he reluctantly broke the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. With a low chuckle, he rasped, "You are always welcome."

You flashed the smile he'd discovered today, inspiring it his new favorite activity, and he was kissing you again, quick and hot. When this kiss broke, you were both breathing faster, and you wondered if it was as hard for him to keep his hands off you as it was for you to not invite it.

The growl that reverberated in his voice answered your question, the affirmative only making it that much harder to go slow. You wanted to take your time with this, however, make sure you did it right. Sam was so much more, so much better than you'd dared hope, you couldn't risk letting your libido overwhelm your common sense. The words he was speaking made your heart speed faster even as your fingers curled with desire. "I want to see you again," he said, dark eyes hot and intense on your face.

You didn't step away, unable to move away from the heat of his body, the heat you made between you, but not ready yet to walk into the flames. Instead, you kept your eyes on his, not bothering to hide the desire that kept you near him, the corner of your mouth quirking up, and flirted, "I think that's probable. We live awfully close to each other."

Sam's face melted into his big, gorgeous grin, showing you the gap in his teeth on which you'd developed a heart-eyed crush over the course of the afternoon. "You know what I mean." He brushed his thumb over your cheek, relishing the softness of your skin, aching to touch you more but not wanting to push. "Let me take you out for real, sweep you off your feet."

"I'll allow it," you smirked and laughed a little, lifting your arm to slide it around his neck and bring your body flush with his. He responded by dropping his hand from your face to slip his arm around your waist, finally taking you in burly arms, enfolding you against his wide chest. The laugh on his lips as yours met them tasted like the golden honey of his voice and you sank back in with a hum of pleasure.

You had taken about as much as you could without giving in completely and dragging him inside your apartment when his hands started to press and grip with a fervor that told you he was close to his limits as well. Reluctantly, with racing hearts and shaking hands, you pulled away and Sam didn't try to hold on.

Your breath still coming quickly, a sparkling smile trembling on your mouth, you opened your door and stepped inside. "The window will stay open," you rasped. "Call me tomorrow." With a final wink, you closed the door on Sam's cheerful grin. Turning, you took several long, deep breaths, resisting the urge to fan yourself with your hand.

Harry drew your attention to where she was curving around the edge of the window frame with a distinctly smug purring chirrup. When she hopped down and made a questioning no-need-to-thank-me mrr-oww, you snorted. "Shut up, Harry."

The sound of Sam's laugh coming through the window made you want to fan yourself again.

The next day, after you'd gotten home from work, you changed into casual clothes and flopped onto your couch. You hadn't been there more than three minutes before you heard Sam's voice calling your name.

You were mostly asleep when you heard Harry chirrup in excitement and jump off the bed to trot out to the front room. You assumed she was on her way to Sam's apartment to see Bucky.

A couple of months after you'd met them, Bucky had discovered that if he slept on Sam's couch, Harry would come sleep with him. Not long after, he realized that he slept deepest and easiest with Harry curled up on his chest. When sleep eluded, Bucky crashed at Sam's. Since Sam spent most nights in your bed these days, it wasn't a problem. Besides, it warmed your heart to see the soft-hearted soldier and the odd little cat take comfort in one another.

"Babe," you said softly when Sam's big, warm arm slid around your waist to snug you into the curve of his body, nuzzling the back of your neck, "is Bucky staying at your place tonight?"

Sam breathed deep, taking in the smell of you, warm and soft and drowsy, loving the intimate sound of your voice, rough and raspy with sleep. "Yeah, he could be." His answer was a low grumble that sent shivers down your spine and you snuggled back into him, still amazed that he was yours. "Harry?" he asked, the humor audible.

"Mmm-hmm." His lips were brushing the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck and you were getting distracted, losing interest in the Mystery of Harry. You tilted your head forward to give him better access.

Sam smiled against your skin, pulling you close to whisper in your ear. "Are you sure that's a cat, and not someone pretending to be a cat?"

As his lips began to travel from under your ear over your neck and shoulders, you answered, a chuckle coloring your voice. "Sam, we've talked about this." You reluctantly leaned out of Sam's arms to push the bedroom door closed. Rolling over, you slipped your arms around him to brush your mouth over his strong jawbone. "No," you murmured. "I'm not." You gently closed your teeth around that gorgeous line and huffed out a laugh when he growled and pulled you in tight. "But she's such a good wingman we're gonna let it slide."

Sam lifted his head to smile sweetly at you. He loved the sound of your voice in the dark, the feel of your breath on his skin, the reality of this: his own spectacular normal. "Can't argue that."

Permanent taglist:

@hellzzzbelle​ @suz-123​ @cheekygeek05​ @lbouvet​ @diinofayce​  @bibliophile1773​ @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @miraclesoflove​ @nerdy-bookworm-1998​ @destiel-is--endgame​ @irritated-bisexual​ @peaceinourtime82​​ @badassbaker​​ @walkingtravesty97​​ @fashionworld12​​ @readermia​​

[ghostmartyr]

how a life can move from the darkness [2/?]

|1|

Brief summary before the cut: Two drug addicts (Eren and Historia) meet in group and decide to be roommates to make their living situation slightly less weird. From there we do the slow burn found family dance mixed in with the struggles and agonies of recovery. Heavy on friendship feels, especially EMA. Eventual yumikuri.

Frieda’s first real visit, where she was actually visiting her sister, not being their babysitter, ended with orders for them to invest in a pet. She didn’t phrase it particularly demandingly. She only said it once, and didn’t bring it up the rest of the night. She barely raised her voice loud enough to be heard over the stove.

She’d walked in on them during one of their mutual wall/ceiling viewing parties.

It was an order.

“No dogs.”

“Okay.”

“Or cats.”

“Okay.”

“Or ferrets.”

“Okay.”

Eren pulled his jacket tighter. The zipper was broken. He should have worn a sweatshirt. He walked down the sidewalk, foot hitting every crack and head wondering if his mom would have preferred a broken back to a broken heart. “Nothing that can get out and crawl around the apartment.”

Historia, behind the personal barrier that used to be the map to the pet store, said, “Eren, we’re getting a fish.”

“Oh,” Eren said. “Okay.” Pause. “Just one?”

“Do you want more than one?”

Eren wasn’t sure he wanted one. He wasn’t sure he wanted one of anything else, either. He mostly wanted Historia’s sister to worry less. He felt like he had two moms these days, and he was letting down both of them. “I… do fish get lonely?”

“Don’t know.”

That made two of them.

An hour, a very talkative employee, and five pamphlets later, Eren still didn’t have an answer to his question, and knew more about nitrate cycles than high school or Armin had ever bothered with. He also found out that the same yearly school field trip to the aquarium each year had taught him nothing about aquariums.

Pumps, vacuums, filters, water treatments, thermometers. Food. Tanks bigger than he could lift.

Armin would have loved this.

One text and he’d probably explain exactly what they wanted and what kind of fish to look for better than the sales guy, and ask if they wanted him to come help out in person with the selections. The trip wouldn’t be giving Eren a headache and he wouldn’t have visions of all the fish they were going to fail dancing in his head.

Armin wasn’t there, and Eren would have to read one of the hundreds of texts from him to find out if there was even a chance of changing that in this reality. Without hating himself so much he couldn’t breathe.

Historia was in the same leaky boat he was, so by the time the sales guy let them go with instructions to look around the store and figure out what kind of aquarium they’d like, Eren really had no idea why they were getting a fish. Besides the merit points from a successful purchase. If they pulled this off without anything dying, it would be like a giant neon sign announcing to the world that they were sort of functional.

The neon sign would not be going near the fish, because that screwed with the lighting, and that, according to the midpoint of their free lecture, would be bad.

“Did you have a breed in mind?” he asked Historia. The damp, weighty smell surrounding them made him feel like he was underwater and drowning. “Or a color?”

“You can pick,” Historia said.

Eren hadn’t met their new fish yet, but he felt sorry for it.

One of them had to put some kind of executive effort into this. Historia was paying for everything. That left him. He could handle walking around and figuring out which fish they were going to try like hell not to kill.

Sometime during their tutorial, they’d ended up in the tropical section. Everything was bright and smelled like the ocean. Eren’s eyes had spent the last ten minutes burning, and now that it was just him and Historia, he was having trouble keeping them from leaking.

Armin and Mikasa should have been there.

They weren’t, and they couldn’t be, and that was his own damn fault, and he didn’t want them there—

“Eren?”

He looked up from the stained concrete floor.

Historia had zoned back in, and was watching his clenched, shaking, fists. He tried to relax them. It didn’t work. He was standing in the middle of a fish store, trying not to cry, and he couldn’t hit anything because then he probably would kill a fish, and Historia being filthy rich wouldn’t fix how awful and pissed that would make him feel, and before he knew it he’d be back behind Zeke’s batting cages, hearing all of the offers the dealer was making and actually listening.

“Eren,” Historia’s voice said, firmly.

“Yeah.” His was too far away, somewhere under the waves of the ocean. But he blinked and he was looking at the bright colors, not the floor, and a quick swipe cleared the damp spots away from under his eyes. “Salt water’s okay, right?”

He could see her nod. Her footsteps followed him down the aisle, and he concentrated on looking at the damn colorful fish. He had no idea what to look for. The sales guy had set them loose with a happy smile, telling them that if they found something they liked, he’d help out with the step-by-step of what to buy first.

There were more steps to this than Eren ever wanted to think about, which probably meant it was healthy to try.

His eyes floated over to a tank on the other side of the aisle. Less colorful, and full of rocks. A lone fish roved back and forth inside, dark spines the size of his fingers swishing along with it. It looked like someone had chopped up a sea urchin and glued its spikes to a large brown goldfish with streaky frills. A lionfish, someone else’s happy voice reminded him, carrying the sound of hurriedly flipped pages.

He didn’t hate the thought of caring for one of those.

He walked over to the tank, crouching down to stare at the thing properly. The card sitting by the tank agreed with his memory. And the fish was too big to mistake for an art fixture. It looked like a real creature; a real pet, not just something to lock away and call personal growth. Alive and fierce. Frieda would approve.

“What do you think?” he asked Historia.

She watched the lionfish swish into one of its rock caves. They both did.

“Okay.”

By the time they were back in their apartment, and the giant tank with all its mixed water and pumps and gravel and sand and rock features was set up, and they were staring at it instead of a blank wall, Eren understood a little better why they were getting a fish.

He doubted it was the upgrade Frieda was aiming for. He also doubted they could do any better.

---

A week into cycling the tank, Eren found the will for the conversation he’d put off since moving in.

Eren wasn’t big on letting people take care of him. His mom could attest to that. To hear her tell it, the day he started crawling, he’d spent all his time crawling away from her. Bandaging his skinned knees as a toddler had taken an hour of convincing before he’d let his—

He didn’t like being kept, or treated like he couldn’t handle his own life. After rehab, he lost the right to that mattering. His mom wasn’t going to accept her grown son’s rent when he needed babying, and he didn’t have the energy to push past the shame and argue.

Things were different now.

He hoped.

Historia was his sponsor, not his mother, and he was hers. He’d seen the bill for their aquarium. Pre-fish (they were giving the tank a month before they picked up its resident). He’d lived in their apartment. He’d seen Historia throw things into their shopping cart without checking prices. She paid for it from a wallet full of holes, but she never cared about the cost or bothered with coupons.

He knew Historia and her family had more money than he would even know what to do with. He knew he couldn’t afford his share if they split it honestly. He didn’t care. He was an adult. He worked. He could help pay for his own sad life.

It was important, Petra had said once, to remember that they were still part of the world. Addiction was what kept them out of it; recovery meant finding their way back in.

That was one of the first meetings he went to. He’d broken a fingernail gripping his chair and acid had boiled up his throat. Petra’s cookies had been too soft, and he ate three to make the taste go away.

Things were better now. He was cutting up carrots for dinner in an apartment that he didn’t share with someone he had hurt.

“I want to start paying rent,” Eren said.

Historia, alternating between reading her textbook and watching a pot boil, briefly added him to the rotation. “I told you, you don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Eren repeated, wincing at the extra volume his voice picked up. “I’m not some helpless little kid who needs handouts. I can pull my own weight.” Even if he’d been happy acting like he couldn’t up until now. What the fuck was wrong with him. He kept talking, trying to skid over that thought before he crashed into it. “I can’t keep taking advantage of people.”

“You’re not,” Historia said. She leaned against the counter, frowning. “I’m the one who asked you to move in so I could stop worrying my sister. You don’t need to pay me for being selfish.”

“That isn’t the point,” Eren said.

Historia continued as if she didn’t hear him. “Besides, I’m not paying for any of this either.”

“That’s—look, Historia, I’d just…” Eren took a deep breath, because breathing exercises were supposed to help. They didn’t, but they were supposed to, and he couldn’t say some of the horrible things his mind came up with if he was inhaling. He screwed what was left of his useless courage and doubled down. “It would help my recovery a lot if I could help out with some of this.”

The words were terrible and lifeless, straight out of the meetings they both hated, and he should have stuck a thank-you somewhere in the middle, because he owed her everything for the help he was squirming out of.

Historia was looking at the ceiling. Her mouth was half-open, and Eren thought she agreed that he was back to saying all of the wrong things.

“My father’s paying for it,” she said quietly.

A block of ice coalesced in Eren’s chest.

“Oh,” Eren said, because even if she wasn’t talking about the dead one, she’d only ever mentioned the dead one before, and they both had dead ones and—he swallowed. Breathed. They’d never really gone over it, but Historia was easy enough to spot, and he’d gone to enough protests and rallies to know that blank silence was the worst thing he could do here, even if they weren’t talking about her. He smiled, jaw creaking with effort and soul cringing. “Your dad was gay?”

Timing meant he was expecting pain to get in the way of any relief. He was sure he was intruding on memories that weren’t any of his business, and even if he was trying to be a supportive friend, he was terrible at it, and they were now back to a place where he knew he’d be making things worse.

What he got was perplexed bewilderment.

“…What?”

He was definitely going to make this worse. “You—you said your dad was dead,” Eren said, slowly enough to be insulting on its own, “but your dad’s paying for the apartment, so that means you have—had, sorry—two?”

Historia stared at him.

She blinked, once, mouth forming a legion of unspoken words.

Eren, realizing he should have just shoved checks under her door each month, stayed standing awkwardly in front of the cutting board, waiting for the axe to fall and fervently regretting the lack of pills nearby.

“Eren,” Historia said at last, words warbling furiously, “my inheritance is paying for all of this. He put me in his will. Frieda wouldn’t let me—she thinks using it is good for my—” She looked across the room at the fishless aquarium.

“I’m supposed to spend it,” she said. Her mouth twitched, a muffled sort of chuckle escaping. Followed by another.

A peal of laughter whimpered from her lungs, ragged and horrified, and Historia was sliding down to the floor, hand pressed to her forehead while the fit of hysteria took over, giggles turning to honest cackles, tearing through the kitchen. Eren watched. He just stood there and watched.

Because she only had one dad, and she’d killed him.

He was dead.

The sob waiting in Eren’s chest came out wrong, not matching the horror and helplessness swirled in it, or the feel of blood warm in his hands as he tried to stop it all from spilling out even though it was too late, and he slipped down to the floor next to Historia, biting down on his thumb to keep from laughing.

By the time Frieda came by, bringing her weekly gift of ice cream, they were both crying.

---

Historia said they could work out splitting the fish costs and groceries, and there really wasn’t a reason to bring it up past that, so they didn’t.

Frieda didn’t, either.

Eren had the disturbing feeling that she understood.

---

Reiner wasn’t outside when Eren showed up for their run.

That was weird to start with. Reiner was as fanatically devoted to taking care of himself as he had been to heroin. Not just physically. He had a day planner. He’d offered to buy Eren one. The guy did not know how to flake.

Standing out in front of the house in Reiner’s usual spot was a woman Eren recognized from some of Reiner’s pictures. He’d flipped through them every single day of rehab, and Eren had wanted him dead.

He didn’t remember the woman’s name. She was scrolling through her phone when he jogged up, and the nod she gave him wasn’t very inviting. Dark circles shaded her freckles, but she was wearing workout clothes. Maybe Eren had missed a text, and he was helping out both of them today.

“Reiner still inside?” he asked.

“Yeah,” the woman said, pocketing her phone. “That’s where he’s staying, too. Bastard’s too sick to be conscious, forget running around the block.”

Too sick to warn Eren, too.

He was paying Eren. They were only sort of friends. Missing out on a run with him still made Eren want to crawl into the nearest hole and not come out. Reiner wasn’t exactly a bright spot to his day, but his day had started with a text from Armin. Reiner never made anything worse. Him and his normalcy had been something to look forward to when Eren woke up and threw his phone through his pillowcase.

World much gloomier than it needed to be at six in the morning, Eren said, “Is there anything I can help with? There’s a drugstore—” he wasn’t going to think about it, he wasn’t going to think about it— “a couple miles out I could hit for him.”

“Thanks, but I think Bert’s got the panicked nursing covered.”

Bertolt, Eren had met. He was usually watering the rosebush outside the house at the end of their morning run. “Great,” Eren said.

That left him… where? Needing to send a get-well text?

He made polite eye contact with Reiner’s friend. Like a person. “I’ll head off, then,” he said. “Let Reiner know today’s on me.”

The woman smirked at him. It might have been meant as a smile, but the glint in her eyes and Eren’s mood said smirk. “You have a side job exercising strangers,” she said. “Don’t volunteer to throw away money.”

Before Eren could point out that he wasn’t a dick, even if she was, she added, “Anyway, that’s what dragged me into this. Reiner thinks routines are part of the ex-junkie bible, and he didn’t want to screw you up just because he forgot to wash his hands. So I’ll be palling around with you this morning to assuage your mutual guilt complexes. You’re welcome.”

Eren had to unclench his jaw before he could speak. He wanted to go back to bed. He also wanted to go inside the house and wring Reiner’s fucking neck. The happy chittering of the birds sounded like cheaply ringing tin in his ears. “Reiner told you?”

Reiner told anyone?

Eren didn’t tell his friends that his client asked for makeup advice he didn’t have to cover up his track marks. He didn’t talk about Reiner’s lifelong fear of needles not holding a fucking candle to his snowballing drug habits. He didn’t breathe a damn word about any of it, not even in group, not even with the names taken out, because why the fuck would he do that to anyone.

“Don’t lose your head about it,” the woman’s voice echoed. “It only came up because he was already wetting himself over missing your appointment.” Her shoes thumped across the concrete, and Eren felt a slap against his shoulder. “He was worried, and hurling too much for his brain to keep a lid on why. He freaked out all over again when he realized what he said. He was trying to be a good friend, not an asshole. He just has a bad habit of mixing the two.”

Eren’s fingernails were digging into his palms. He had to concentrate to make them stop, but they stopped, and without the sting that said he broke the skin.

Deep breaths. The ones that never really worked.

“It’s fine,” he said.

“Right,” said the woman. He could feel her watching him. The scrutiny reminded him of the rehab shrink. Or a more hostile Petra. “Sorry. Usually I only bring up sensitive subjects on purpose.”

Eren didn’t know how much of a joke that was. He decided it didn’t matter. He reeled his head back to a zone where he knew how to handle all of this, even if he didn’t, reminded himself it was too early in the morning for him to shoot Historia a text asking for commiseration, and breathed normally.

“Do you need some time to stretch, or are you good to go now?” Eren asked.

The woman gave a one-armed shrug. “Feel free to run away from me at your leisure. I’m just here to take up space.” She watched him another moment before sticking out her hand. “Ymir, by the way.”

Eren shook it with as much heart as he didn’t have. “Eren.”

Her smile was all teeth. “Nice meeting you.”

----

Reiner wasn’t the only person who was sick, it turned out.

Eren knew he had to do something about the phone problem. This was a marked improvement from not thinking of it as a problem. He didn’t think he could steal credit for that. The outside world was screaming it at him. Armin had taken up regular texts like clockwork, and if that meant something was wrong, Eren didn’t know how to check without losing his mind. Being a fuckup and a coward would do that. Mikasa’s daily texts had never stopped. Hannes had gotten back to him about supervising some free climbers over the weekend. His first since his broken leg.

His pulse hadn’t dropped a beat when that conversation ended and a disaffected buzz announced a message from Zeke.

Zeke had barely spoken to him since the funeral. He’d walked him in and out of the rehab facility doors and left him alone. It wasn’t that different from the way things were before their dad died. The only change was him not dropping by unannounced to take Eren off on some adventure. If he’d tried that recently, no one had mentioned it. Eren wasn’t sure anyone had even bothered giving him his new address.

A text from Zeke out of the blue was a danger sign. Eren couldn’t just ignore it. He also couldn’t click on it.

Pacing the entire length of the apartment back and forth and back again, Eren could admit he had a problem. Step one. The last time that revelation had crept up and slammed him into a gutter, it was one of the worst moments of his life. This didn’t compare, but it left him feeling lopsided and tired. He couldn’t ignore his brother. Zeke had never ignored him. He had every reason in the world to, but he never had. Eren owed him.

He couldn’t open the damn text.

He made another agitated circuit around the apartment. His phone wasn’t set to tick down seconds, but they were playing back in his head fine without the help. He was rounding the couch, checking the aquarium and wishing they already had a fish to stare at—like that had a chance of helping, but maybe it did—when the loud clap of a slamming textbook stopped him in his tracks.

Historia, who he hadn’t noticed, was lying on the floor. Until a millisecond of time passed for her to gather her temper and she stood up from the rug, swept over, and threw out her hand.

Eren, who hadn’t come up with a better plan yet, gave her his phone. She almost took his hand off with it.

“Under Zeke,” he said. In case she mistook him for someone who had decided today was the time to finally go through and acknowledge the hundreds of unread texts Armin and Mikasa had sent him.

Historia scanned the screen in slow motion. “Someone’s sick,” she said, and visions of hospitals gone by and panic started up before she filled in the rest. “He wants to know if you can sub in for the game on Saturday.”

Baseball. No emergency. Baseball.

Eren breathed out, sighing. Relief was missing from it. He didn’t know why he had expected anything else. A quiet, petty hole that rehab hadn’t filled all the way was still waiting for Zeke to say something about what happened. He never would, and he was an ungrateful bastard for wanting more than what he’d got. What he’d got was more than he deserved. If Zeke never talked to him about anything but baseball, Eren would live with that.

That could really happen, too. Zeke loved baseball like he’d never loved anyone in his own damn family—

Eren moved to take back his phone before his head started something his fists couldn’t finish. Historia’s temper flare had vanished, and she dangled the device between them like it was the bomb about to go off instead of them. She made it look as large and unwieldy in her hands as it felt in Eren’s thoughts. He didn’t know why that helped. He wasn’t even sure if it did.

With how the day was going, Eren couldn’t be surprised when it buzzed with another text the second his finger brushed the casing. Historia jumped slightly, and Eren hated his eyes for catching the name on the screen.

Because Armin had started texting him again.

Great.

He was looking at the floor. Historia kept holding the phone. The bomb.

Great, great, great, great.

Eren could feel his breath shortening, his blood pumping faster, and he was supposed to be getting a grip and trying to be better than all of this and he wanted to break something. More things than he had the first time, or the second, or the third, or the twelfth, because all of those times hadn’t made the right impression, Armin was still trying, and so was Mikasa, and he was so sick of it, and himself, and Zeke, and—

“Have you ever been to a batting cage?” Eren blurted out.

Historia took a moment to answer. “What?” she said.

“Batting cage,” Eren said, feeling a tension headache building. “Have you ever been?”

“No?”

Ten minutes later, Eren didn’t think he felt a whole lot better, but nothing was broken, he hadn’t hurt anyone, and Historia wasn’t complaining about the sprinters’ pace they were walking down the sidewalk at. He didn’t think that last one was a point in his favor. She hadn’t given him his phone back. It was still a good thing. Someone was around to keep him from being stupid.

He led the way with a nervous energy that he hated. He knew how his body was supposed to work. It wasn’t a natural like Mikasa’s—and that turned the notch up on his leg speed one more time—but he’d spent time on it, and he knew how he liked to move. Purposefully. With real energy that came from the core. Not nervous sweats and clenched fists.

There were two batting cages within walking distance of their apartment. One, neither of them needed to be anywhere near. The other was fine, and normal, and open until midnight. Glazed lights decking a row of fence were visible from the street. The padded green of the fake grass stapled to every inch of the facility’s floor wasn’t. Two pairs of feet thumped across it to the cashier’s window out front.

Eren forked out the cash from his wallet to the drowsy employee manning the entrance before Historia had a chance to object. They marched on through without a word.

It was cool and dark outside, even with the glare of the lights, and Eren stuffed a helmet on his head from the rack and grabbed a bat before his thoughts slowed down enough to race in coherent circles. He couldn’t hit people anymore, but he sure could hit objects.

Historia was still trailing behind him, and she’d never been and he would help with that in a second after he took care of him, and watching was where it all started anyway it wasn’t like he was that great with words like—

He smacked the start button. His other hand clasped the bat, touching metal where the glue had peeled away from the grip. He raised it over his shoulder, a million lessons from a man who looked too much like his father coursing through his veins, and he was holding a metal pole and watching the blood spurt over it and his hands and

and

He remembered to hit the emergency stop and he made it to the trash can. That was the important part.

Fuck.

He didn’t know where the bat was, but all his hands were holding was the plastic bag around the rim of the trash can. His head was dipped down next to a collection of empty Styrofoam cups, gum, and vomit. The acidic burning in his throat waited for a swallow. The rest of him stayed still, waiting for the next hit.

That hadn’t happened before. He’d thought of it happening, but it never did. He hadn’t thrown up since he bet Jean he could drink an entire case of soda in first grade. He won. His mom still had a special sigh for that stain on the carpet.

Eren pulled himself out of the garbage. His knee was shaking. Badly enough to bring up more problems, so he sat down on the fake grass and let it scratch his fingers. He swallowed through the burning, and pressed a fist to his forehead.

Fuck.

Footsteps approached. Another cup showed up by his head. Not empty. Eren took it and sipped the water, and it was just like any other workout.

The only thing he could think of that would make it any worse was if he started crying, and he felt like he was going to.

Historia sat down next to him.

“Do you… want to talk about it?” she asked. She sounded like she was reading off a script. She was still holding his phone.

Eren hated his fucking phone. He wanted to throw it into a landfill.

He took a breath, and another sip of water. Besides the phone, which could go to hell, the hate felt cooler. Like all the lava out under the sky was turning into something solid. He’d liked Armin’s volcano phase. It’d been his phase, too. Like with the dinosaurs, and that one summer with pelicans.

He’d kill to be talking to Armin about pelicans right now. Instead he was sitting on a batting cage floor, the only support system he was strong enough to bear sitting right next to him instead of studying for her test like she was supposed to, and his lips were covered in drying bile, and he’d killed his dad.

Admitting he had problems wasn’t too hard when they were this obvious.

Eren opened his fist and dragged his hand through his hair.

“Do you have anyone?” Eren asked quietly. “That you have to make amends to?”

The answer was instantaneous, and not much of a surprise. “Frieda.”

Eren twisted his bangs around his fingers. Only a little of him wanted to tug it all out by the roots. “Not family. People you screwed up because they liked you and liking you meant they were around when you fucked up your life. Friends.”

Historia didn’t say anything for a whole minute.

“No,” she said.

That one was more of a surprise. It shouldn’t have been, because she was his roommate, and he had a pretty wide window into her life, but it was, and now Eren felt like even more of a dick. He dropped his hand into his lap and silently added Historia to his list. Maybe she’d be one he could actually cross off.

He didn’t know what to say next, because ‘sorry,’ was more of a distraction than he could deal with while being this useless, but as long as he was sober, he wasn’t the kind of person who wanted to just leave that bombshell alone.

Historia took pity on him and sighed.

“I had a fiancée in juvie.”

Eren blinked. He lifted his head. “You can get engaged in juvie?” he asked.

“You were in juvie?” was close behind, and he felt stupid enough thinking it to avoid saying it, because no matter how tiny she was, saying he had trouble picturing his drug addicted, father-murdering roommate doing time was…

“It’s not something you have to fill out paperwork for,” Historia said, continuing blithely on. “It’s just a promise. Words.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. She was older, so she got out before I did, and after that, I never heard from her again. We never even—” Historia stopped herself. Her eyes shut. “She probably didn’t even mean it. It started as a joke.”

It didn’t sound like it came from any sense of humor he’d known. Historia wasn’t laughing. Neither was Eren. He took another sip of the water she’d found him before he crushed the cup and it spilled all over his jeans.

“She doesn’t even know my real name,” Historia said, almost inaudibly. Her blinks sped up. “She was gone before my drug habit could disappoint her. She would have—” Historia snorted and there was something dark and chaotic in her smile.

“She would have killed me.”

This was a joke she got. Eren didn’t.

They sat in silence for a few moments, sitting on the scratchy fake grass. Eren spotted his bat on the floor next to the open cage.

“I have these friends,” he said, “that I don’t know how to…”

Trailing off was as close as he could get to articulating it. Historia could probably figure out the gist by living with him. Tonight wasn’t the first time his phone had caused problems, it was just the first time he’d made them her problem.

“The text before we left looked like some sort of science fact-a-day,” Historia said. “Frieda has a subscription to a few things like that.” He could feel her watching him. Months of feeling like everyone was watching him had honed the sense. “He’s probably copying you on them.”

That sounded like Armin. The perfect way to start talking without saying anything.

He waited for anger to spike with the thought, but he just felt tired.

He looked at the baseball bat. Historia followed his look.

“Zeke’s my half-brother,” he said. “I owe him, but if Saturday’s anything like this I’d be better off not showing up at all.”

Historia said, easily, “I’ll fill in for you.” Like any of his friends would have after he dragged them out of their apartment in the middle of the night to have a panic attack in front of them.

Being too stubborn to admit that he needed help was what had gotten him here. He didn’t want to stay. He didn’t think anyone wanted him to.

“Have you ever played baseball?”

“No.”

Zeke was going to love this.

---

Zeke did.

He’d also shaved.

Eren hadn’t seen him without a beard in years. It was weird, made him look like he belonged at some sort of board meeting, and every time they made eye contact Eren needed a second to find his brother in the face.

What he didn’t find, and what he’d been scared of seeing, was their dad.

He didn’t know if he was allowed to say thank you. They didn’t really do that. Zeke hadn’t said anything about Historia showing up as the sub for his sub. He was grateful, since the tiny adult baseball league was his entire life, and he’d be heartbroken if he missed out on any of it, but he didn’t say it. Not with Eren. There was just this quiet expectation that it would all work out, because they were brothers. No thanks necessary.

Not being the one playing, Eren had too much time to think about that.

Now, after the game, sitting across from his brother at the pizza parlor Zeke had selected instead of the bar he’d taken his team to every game day for at least five years, Eren was still thinking about it.

“Your roommate doesn’t have a bad arm,” Zeke said. “Do you think she’d want to join up?”

“You’d have to ask her.” Historia had gone outside when Colt ordered a beer, and he didn’t know if she’d noticed that Yelena had spent the entire seventh inning stretch and drive over asking too many questions, but it was mostly going okay. She’d caught a fly ball and gotten a hit, and their team won. They’d both had worse days.

“I might, if you can’t play.”

Eren’s hand tensed around his drink.

Zeke wouldn’t ask. Somebody had shown up, so he wouldn’t ask. Eren still couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew. Even if there was no way he could. Zeke was like that. Hide and seek had turned into a banned game the nights Zeke babysat. No matter how hard Eren tried, Zeke always found him, and his mom had gotten sick of coming home to him exploding in frustration.

Eren wanted him to ask. Zeke came to Eren instead of hitting up Mikasa when he needed a sub. He cared. Eren wanted to feel it instead of just knowing it, for once.

He was an ungrateful brat, in a lot of ways.

Zeke paid for the pizza. Historia eventually walked back in and sat with them. Zeke asked about school, and rock climbing, and what they thought about the batting order they’d tried.

He didn’t ask about Eren.

Which was fine. What would he have said, anyway? He was ghosting his best friends in the world while they tried to keep him in their lives. He didn’t get to miss his big brother for having the brains to stay out of it all.

[next]

[dariaroden]

BRIGHTWOOD CHALLENGE 02

1: How high is your libido? Oh, honey. You couldn’t handle it if I told you.

2: Rough sex or soft sex? Either way, depending on what the mood calls for.

3: Do you have any unusual kinks/fetishes? That would depend on what you’d classify as unusual. Kinks in and of themselves are technically things that deviate from the norm. So I guess, by that definition, yes.

4: Weirdest place you’ve had sex? In a supply closet.

5: Favourite sex position? Any. I couldn’t possibly name a favorite. 

6: Do you like to be dominant or submissive? I tend to be more submissive in bed and in general.    

7: Have you ever had any one night stands? I’ve had a few, yes. 

8: Sex on the bed, couch or the floor? Anywhere. Everywhere. All of the above and more, babe.

9: Have you ever had sex in a public place? I have yes. Behind the game booths at a carnival, once.

10: Have you ever been caught masturbating? I have. I’ve had more than a couple of roommates over the years.

11: What does your favorite sexy underwear look like? It’s a pink teddy with feathers at the bottom.

12: How often do you have sex? Not nearly enough to satisfy me, at the moment. But at least I’m getting something. Beggars can’t be choosers, as my mother always used to say.

13: Is there anybody right now you’d like to have sex with? Hell yes. @everywherealinagoes​

14: Do you prefer giving or receiving oral sex? Receiving is excellent, but I’m not selfish. I’ll return the favor, always.

15: Most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you during sex? I broke a nail down to the quick, it was incredibly painful and we had to stop.

16: A song you’d listen to during hard/rough/kinky sex? Anything with a good, fast beat and a nice rhythm. Maybe ‘Rude Boy’ by Rihanna

17: A song you’d listen to during soft/slow/passionate sex? ‘Motivation’ by Kelly Rowland 

18: Are you into dressing up for sex? Hell fucking yes. I have a literal problem with the amount of lingerie and roleplay outfits in my closet. 

19: Would you prefer sex in the bath or sex in the shower? Bath, shower, counter...Wherever babe.

20: If you could have sex with anyone right now, who would it be? Alina Liu, @everywherealinagoes​

21: Have you ever had a threesome? If not, would you? I have, yes.

22: Do you/would you use sex toys? I absolutely use sex toys and will continue to use them. You’ve got to keep things hot.

23: Have you ever sent someone a dirty text/picture? You know it.

24: Would you have sex with your best friend? I would, if she needed it.

25: Is there anything you do after sex? (for example, smoke, eat, drink)? Really just rehydrating, so drink water.

26: Something that will never fail to get you horny? Dirty texts, pictures, kissing, just about everything.

27: Early morning sex or late night sex? Both. Afternoon sex too.

28: Favourite body part on the opposite sex? Calves.

29: Favourite body part on the same sex? Ass.

30: Something that you have hidden in your room that you don’t want anyone to find? I have nothing to hide, come on in and start rummaging. Maybe you’ll find something you’ll like.

31: Weirdest sexual act some has performed [or tried to perform] on/with you? I once had someone try to fuck me with a frozen cucumber. I realize some people think that’s a glorious stand-in, and by all means, you do you boo boo. But, uh, that was not for me.

32: Have you ever tasted yourself? [If no, would you?] [If yes, what did you think?] I sure have, and I can attest to tasting like candy.

33: Is it ever okay to not use a condom? If you’re willing to accept the risks, sure, go for it.

34: A food that you would like to use during a sexual experience? Chocolate.

35: Worst possible time to get horny? Is there ever really a bad time?

36: Do you like it when your sexual partner moans? I so fucking do.

37: What is the most amount of times you’ve ever orgasmed in a day? Six.

38: Best sexual complement you ever got: Someone once told me I have a magical tongue.

39: Favorite foreplay activities: Anything, literally. It’s beyond easy to get me going. 

40: What do you wear to bed? Usually just panties and a sports bra. Sometimes no bra, though. 

41: What is your biggest turn off? Bad hygiene. Hands down.

42: Do you have any nude/masturbating pictures/video of yourself? I sure do. Why, are you interested?

43: Have you ever/when was the last time you had sex outside? It has actually been a while. Someone should definitely get on that.

44: Have/would you ever have sex in public? I have and I would again.

45: Have/would you ever had a threesome? I have and would again.

46: What is one random object you’ve used to masturbate? An electric toothbrush.

47: What is your favorite type of porn? Girl on girl, baby.

48: Do you like oral sex? (why/why not) I absolutely do, who doesn’t? I don’t trust you if you don’t, period.

49: How do you feel about tattoos on someone you are interested in? They can be hot, as long as they are’t weird tattoos.

50: How would you feel about taking someones virginity? I would, if they wanted me to.

51: Is there any food you would NOT recommend using during a sexual encounter? Probably like...Something weird. Like tapioca. Who would do that?

52: Would you rather be a pornstar or a prostitute? Either or. 

53: Do you watch porn? Is this a real question? Hell yes, I do.

54: Have you ever been called a freak? Why? I have been, because of how high my libido is and how willing I am to do just about anything.

55: Do you feel comfortable going “commando”? I do, and do frequently.

56: Would you have a problem with going down on someone if they hadn’t shaved their pubic hair? Absolutely not. If you’ve got a problem with that, you aren’t grown and you don’t want it bad enough. Au naturale is just fine with me.

57: If you could give yourself head, would you? I so would, I don’t even care. 

58: Booty or Boobs? Both, duh.

59: Have you ever cheated on someone? (Why?) No, i haven’t. I wouldn’t hurt someone like that. 

60: What is your dirtiest sexual fantasy? How much time do you have sweetpea? I’ve got about a million. 

61: have you ever watched someone masturbate? Yep, it’s hot.

62: has anyone ever watched you masturbate? Yep, it’s hot too.

63. Have you ever had an erection and someone noticed? That isn’t possible for me personally, but you can bet I’ve had my fair share of wet spots. 

64. What is your method of masturbation? (ie. toys, clitorial, prostate) It depends on how I’m feeling, but generally a combination of toys and clitoral.

65. What is your bra/penis size? I’m a 34C.

66. What is the strangest thing you have ever put up your vagina/anus? Strangest? I guess the cucumber that one time.

67. When was the last time you masturbated? About 20 minutes ago. But, after this, I have a feeling I’ll need to go again.

68. When was the last time you had sex? Like two days ago?

69. When was the last time you watched porn? When I masturbated 20 minutes ago.

70. Have you ever bought a sex toy? If so, which one did you buy last? First sex toy? If not, which one do you plan on buying when you do? I have more sex toys than I can count. My first was a dildo with a suction on the base. The most recent was a Sybian.

71. Circumcised? It doesn’t matter to me sweetie. 

72. Which not-genital part of your body do you like being touched? My arms.

73. Which genital part of your body do you like being touched? All of them. Every single one.

74. Are you able to achieve orgasm just through nipple stimulation? I could, if I’m horny enough.

75. Have you anonymously sent a sexual ask to someone? Sure have.

76. When was the last time you have had a wet dream? I have sex dreams at least every other week. Sometimes once a week if I’ve been putting my needs on the backburner.

77. Which wet dream was your favorite? The one i just had about Alina, actually. @everywherealinagoes​

78. Is there a friend you would willingly have sex with? You know there is.

79. Is there a celebrity/character you would willingly have sex with? Oh absolutely. 

80. Least favorite sexual position? Are there any? I don’t think so.

81. Do you like being called a slut or whore in bed? Ohhhh, yes please.

82. Are you into any BDSM? Pffft yes.

83. Have you ever wanted to have sex with someone but knew you couldnt for any reason? Why? Not really, no. I’ve gotten lucky in that department. 

84. Do you like dirty talk? Love it.

85. Are you loud or quiet during sex? Masturbation? I am loud, for the most part. I can be quiet if I have to be. But if it doesn’t matter, I can be a screamer. 

86. Have you ever been interrupted during sex or masturbation? Who/what? I have been, by my roommate. 

87. What kind of porn do you not like to watch? I don’t like overly fake stuff. Like I realize all porn is pretty much staged in some way. But, I hate those stupid ass movies where the girl with huge tits looks at the camera, biting her lip, and is like, “oh yeah, I’m a naughty girl, i need to be punished.” Like...No. The obvious fakeness is a turn off. 

88. Have you ever confessed to someone that you got an erection over them? What about masturbated to them? I have. I’m not shy about that. We all have needs. 

89. Have you ever masturbated because your sexual partner wasn’t there when you needed them? Yes. Sometimes you just can’t wait.

90. Have you ever had a one night stand? Do you still keep in contact with them? I have, but admittedly I don’t always keep up with them, no. 

91. Have you ever had a friends with benefits? Are they still beneficial? Yes, and most definitely yes. 

92. Any kinks you’ve always wanted to try but haven’t? There isn’t much I haven’t tried. But, I’ll think on that. 

93. How should someone who is interested in sleeping with you approach the topic? Literally just send a suggestive text.

94. What are your absolute no-nos in bed? Don’t leave permanent marks, don’t ignore me if I give a direction or have a request, and don’t bring nonsexual fluids into the mix. We’ll be Gucci.

95. How do you feel about quickies? They are excellent and needed.

96. Have you ever tried roleplay in bed? Would you? I have and would again in a heartbeat.

97. Describe the best orgasm you’ve ever had. What were you doing? Alone or with someone else? What made it so good? The best? I don’t even know if I can pick the best. Any time with Alina is generally A++.

98. Have you ever filmed yourself while masturbating or having sex? I sure the fuck have.

99. Lights on or lights off? Either or, doesn’t matter to me. Either way, we’re fucking.

100. What would you like to do more of in bed? Everything. All of it. Just sex.

[furiousqueenmarmaroth]

HC for the horsemen and Azreal assisting or just being friends with an expectant human mom-to-be? Doesn't have to be romantic if you dont wanna, but im all about the wholesome shit yo these guys deserve all the love in the world, just like you~ have a wonderful evening (or whatever timeit is, idk

((Here you go, love. I think I’m going to make Azrael his own thing, just cause he was the one holding me up. Anyways, I hope the others are okay because I’m kinda sleep deprived.))

Death:

“So yeah… I don’t want you to feel obligated to co-parent or anything. I know you don’t like change and if it’s ever too much for you I’ll be happy to move out.” Fingernail polish certainly didn’t last long with the nervous woman, as the littered flecks of paint that accumulated on the wood floors could attest.

“For you, I can make adjustments.” Death finally said, crossing his legs and returning to his book.

“Wait, really?” He took it much better than she had anticipated. It was so suspicious that she felt certain he would pee in her shoes like a cat she used to own. She didn’t know much about the Horseman, as no one seemed to, but she knew him well enough to know that “adjustments” weren’t a part of his skill set.

“We should probably start with child locks on the cabinets.”

“You’re joking.”

“The scar on War’s lip would say otherwise.”

“No I mean… What I’m trying to say is…” Oh boy, he really wasn’t easy to talk to. “You don’t have to be involved at all if you don’t want to be.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You are important to me, as you were before we started this little experiment. I would lay down my life for you, and as such, I would lay down my life for your child as well.” His eyes spoke of sincerity, a rare and vulnerable moment indeed.

“Well… Thank you, Death. You’re sweet.”

“I know. That’s why we’re not calling it Alice or Richard.”

“Those are my parent’s names and you can’t change my mind about them.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s good luck.”

“They both died before 30 how lucky can they be?” He knew he had went to far, but giving people permission to refer to what he considered his son as “Dick” wasn’t an option.

Fury:

By the pale tint to Fury’s face, she knew she had gotten to the part of the parenting book about childbirth. Probably the part about mucus plugs and placentas and the picture of a baby’s head crowning. You know, the gross stuff that no one told her about before her and her wife agreed to become pregnant.

When the Horseman’s face turned toward the human, she wasn’t sure if her expression was one of concern, pity, or disgust. Knowing her, it was probably both. There wasn’t anything exchanged between the two of them except a handful of pleasantries during breakfast.

“So… you knew about this?” The vague gesture toward the ‘gross’ chapter of the book was indication enough of what she meant.

“Yes. I am an OB/GYN. Kinda my job to know about it.”

“And there was no… man?”

“There was, but he wasn’t there during conception if that’s what you meant.”

“How…?”

“Well, you have three brothers. It’s just like that, except it goes in a vial instead of a sock.”

Fury’s face scrunched before concluding in a shudder. “At least we’re having a girl.”

“And you’re going to be an amazing mom.” She pressed a quick kiss to her partner’s temple, “Once you finally let me paint the nursery pink.”

“You know what,” she flung the book across the counter, “you deserve to punish this baby however you see fit, since your going to have your vagina ripped to your betty button anyways.”

“That’s not how a C-section works, Fury. Read the book.”

“I don’t want to anymore.”

She sighed and laughed, “Well at least come help me paint the room and get the to-go bag ready.” Wiggling fingers beckoned her to follow, and she did.

Strife:

“It’s like a fish bowl.” Strife concluded as he stared at the fuzzy image in his hands that only vaguely resembled something that would turn into humans. He was told the babies looked healthy for twins at 12 weeks. About the size of kumquats, the doctor said. Whatever the hell kumquats were. And the mother? Oh, even bloated and fatigued he still thought she was the most perfect woman in all of Creation.

She giggled and hooked an arm under his. “I can call one Fineas and one Finwick.” She sobered quickly, “Thank you for coming with me today, Strife. It means a lot to me.”“Always. I’m sure the father will be very happy to hear the news.”

“I called him a few weeks ago but he said he didn’t want anything to do with them. Happens, I guess.”

A hand appeared in his periphery and beckoned the picture back. Roused from his stupor, he realized the red box in front of them was her car and it was time for their brief time to end.

“Well, if you ever need anything, or nothing, you know, give me a ring and I’ll be here. For the baby or for yard work or something. And I’m totally fine being the guy you bring to these things.” Air sucked in between his teeth to make an awkward hissing sound. “Yup it’s… totally fine by me.”

“Okay…” Strife’s stomach sank as the car door popped open. “Bye, Strife.”

“Yup. Okay. Bye.” He held up his hand and turned away with a sigh. Lovely to spend time with her, as it always was.

“Actually, Strife?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you wanna… come with me to pick up my prenatal vitamins?” Her grin was intoxicating, “If that’s fine with you, that is.”

If it wouldn’t have been completely weird, he would have done the happy hippo dance from Fantasia. “It is.”

War:

War had become distant since the revelation of the new roommate that would be joining the house, even more distant still as he realized that her ever-expanding belly held this new life. His hands had crushed things significantly less fragile than the petite woman, and their few nights together proved that even at his best he still left bruises. And, worse still, the thing that was growing inside of her.

As to how he was able to sire an offspring was beyond him. Between his hybrid status, their differing species and centuries of horseback riding, he had considered the possibility unlikely, to say the least.

Neither his brothers nor his sister minded the addition to the Nephilim family, seeing as it would be taught the values of a human they considered level headed, for better or worse. But War minded. He minded quite a bit. But the decision was ultimately hers and there wasn’t much he could do about that except keep her somewhat entertained during the mandatory bedrest that began a few weeks into her pregnancy.

“Oof.” She clutched her stomach.

He was to her side and leaning over to examine her before she could finish a deep breath.

“It’s fine.” She pat his arm. “Just a kick.”

The father grunted and moved back to his shadowed seat to sulk and pretend like he wasn’t watching the show that was on. Quite frankly, he ate those reality TV shows up like Skittles.

“Do you want to feel?” Her grip on his hand was surprisingly strong as she pulled the only hand he had down towards the obscenely stretched and visibly moving skin.

“No.” He wasn’t about to fight against her, though.

“Just feel and I’ll stop bugging you.”

And so, he did if only to be done with it. But he was in love by the first kick. There was no way he could explain the sudden surge of emotion when the little warrior to be jutted a foot against the gentle pressure of his hand. What he was certain of though, was he had to turn away lest anyone should see the tears that suddenly attacked his eyes.

“The doctor says you can see that she has hair on the ultrasound.”

“She?”

“Yeah, she. Did you want to say something to your daughter? She can hear you, you know.”

“Is that why you’ve been reading out loud like a mad woman?”

“Yeah, that’s the reason.” She offered the shoddy book of poetry to him, “This is all we have with rhymes. Though with all the detective shows I’ve been watching I’m sure that’s had more of an impact.”

[the-whims-of-fate]

HCs for the Servants watching Game of Thrones?

This request is actually pretty well timed, as me and my roommate recently finished Season 1 (he’s caught up, but I hadn’t seen any of it yet). Depending on circumstances, I might even continue writing these as I progress through the series. We’ll see though. This season alone had a lot to write about, to the point where I still feel like I could’ve written more, but it was getting far too long already. Also, I know Season 1 aired a long time ago, but I’m going to put this under a cut just in case anyone wants to avoid spoilers.

The kingly and knightly servants are immediately intrigued by the premise, and an audience quickly formed in the media room. Meanwhile, upon hearing about the more “mature” content, Jeanne quickly guided the children servants away to a different room to preoccupy them with something else.

Very quickly, whether it was the initial scene with the White Walkers or the nudity, the show had made an impression on them, for better or worse (Bedivere’s face turned red as a Blood Tearstone during the first scene with Tyrion). However, as the episodes began to progress, regardless of any apprehensions among the viewers, they could see why and how the show had become so popular.

Also, while we’re on the topic of Tyrion, he became a very quick favorite among many of the audience members, Iskandar especially. For him, however, while he certainly approved of Tyrion’s taste in “the finer things”, it was the slapping of Joffrey that sealed the deal. Mordred, on the other hand, while she too enjoyed the slapping, found an odd sense of comfort in his words to Jon about treating his status as an illegitimate heir like armor. Out loud though, she’d never admit to it being anything more than an interesting line.

In fact, the vast majority of the House Stark had earned at least some amount of the audience’s respect (especially from the king of knights), be it Ned for his steadfastness or Arya for her determination. Even Bran had caught the attention of a certain inventor who, after Tyrion had made the plans for his harness, would have thrown out her own designs if she wasn’t convinced she could do better.

While he had begun to enjoy the show as well, what really captured Ozymandias’ attention was The Wall. Whether it be the architecture therein or the ins and outs of The Watch as a system overall, notes were being written with such ferocity that some of the others could almost swear they heard the paper burning. Meanwhile, Ivan’s intrigue was just as piqued for the military’s ability to use those conditions to such an advantage.

As the ones who seemed to bear the majority of the wealth and the one’s to not let others forget it, Gilgamesh was quickly intrigued by the Lannisters as a whole, but while he was very much humored by Tyrion, he had become increasingly mindful of Cersei and her ploys. However, by the end of the season, he had begun to grow tired of it.

“While both the planning of and the results of a well laid plot can be enjoyed as one does a fine drink, such an exquisite taste is wasted on her. It’s as if she’s more interested in the act of drinking the wine rather than the savoring of it, and at that point she may as well be a common drunkard.”

Daenerys’ arc captured the intrigue of both the servants of female and male royalty alike with the way she grew through her experiences regarding both Viserys and Drogo. The “Crown of Gold”, while many were in shock at the scene, Gilgamesh could hardly contain his laughter at the “fitting end” that befell Viserys. Meanwhile, as Daenerys’ independence turned to reliance on Drogo, Iskandar’s smile began to turn to a grimace. Towards the end, you could just barely hear him say, “wake up little girl.” His smile did return to him at the end of it though.

By the end of the season, while some declined, many were excited to continue the series. It had its problems, but many of the kings present could at least somewhat attest to the accuracy of the politics, even if they were centered around a power struggle, and everyone had their own favorites among the cast for their own reasons.

Meanwhile, while it may not have lasted very long, several servants (who will remain unnamed for the sake of their dignity) had the presence of mind to observe the blizzards amidst Chaldea’s surroundings and remark that “winter is coming”, despite the fact that winter was effectively constant for them.

[parson-kent]

you should die with me

""Nurse," he mumbled through a mouthful of cookie, "why do you always gotta make things so sexual? Can't you just enjoy things, for like one fucking time, without turning it weird?"

"Well, why are you such a fucking prude, Dex? How about letting me eat this goddamn cookie without judgement? 'Why do you make things so sexual, Nurse, blah blah blah?' It's because we're so rooted in early Protestant ideals that you're like this-"

And, yeah, it kinda devolved from there."

or Nursey and Dex get on each other's nerves and also get off on each other's nerves.

My first nurseydex fix!! Also posted on ao3. Trigger warnings for language, ignorance. Check below the cut for the fic :)))

and every word that you mock sounds so pretty to me, you should die with me - Saturday Night, HUNNY

-

Dex was working on the boiler in the basement of the Haus when he heard Nursey come in through the front door. He recognized the stomp of his hipster-thrifted boots across the living room floor and his laugh as he talked to Bitty in the kitchen. He recognized the way he could almost make out their conversation. He also recognized the way he said goodbye and turned to head down the basement stairs.

Nursey came clambering down the stairs with two big cookies, one in each hand.

"Dude, look what Bitty made!! It's his MooMaw's chocolate chip recipe, apparently she has like tasks he has to complete before she rewards him with the best recipe? Anyway, he just got this one. They smell so good, dude! I brought you one."

Dex smiled, face hidden behind the broiler. "Let me just deal with this last screw and I'll grab one."

Nursey apparently seemed content to stand there and ramble as Dex finished up. He was talking about his Mexican poetry class or something, but Dex wasn't really paying attention. He just let Nursey's words wash over him.

Finally, he gave the screw one final twist before standing up and grabbing a towel off the floor to wipe his hands. He brushed off any oil or grease that would be on them before grabbing a cookie out of Nursey's hand. They both took their first bite at the same time, and Nursey let out a small moan. Dex blushed and tried to focus on enjoying Bitty's delicious baking skills. And you know what? Dex could also attest to the sinful delightful-ness of this certain cookie, but did you see him moaning over it? No.

"Nurse," he mumbled through a mouthful of cookie, "why do you always gotta make things so sexual? Can't you just enjoy things, for like one fucking time, without turning it weird?"

"Well, why are you such a fucking prude, Dex? How about letting me eat this goddamn cookie without judgement? 'Why do you make things so sexual, Nurse, blah blah blah?' It's because we're so rooted in early Protestant ideals that you're like this-"

And, yeah, it kinda devolved from there.

-

Shitty stomped down the steps about 15 minutes later to break up their fighting. By then it had gotten so loud that Dex was pretty sure the Lax bros could hear it from their house. He was pretty sure he had been going on about respecting people's boundaries, while Nurse had been off on some rant about Protestant ideals and how they had cursed America. Whatever it was, it had been pretty bad.

But then, Shitty arrived and taken them into the reading room.

"Bros, I want you to reflect on this moment. Do you feel in anyway better than the way you were feeling before? Do you feel accomplished or satisfied"

Dex shook his head, but resolutely refused to turn even the slightest inch to see what Nurse said.

Shitty just shook his head before he launched into some complicated lecture about emotional control and shared space. Dex listened with some level of interest before tuning it out.

Suddenly, Shitty snapped his fingers in front of his face. "Hey, both of you, pay attention. You'll be quizzed on this later."

-

Dex woke up the next morning to sunlight leaking in from the windows. He blinked at the sudden brightness then quickly squeezed his eyes shut. Apparently, his roommate had forgotten to shut their black out blinds properly.

"Are you fucking shitting me, Trevor? This type of shit happens every week, you've got to stop it."

No response. Dex leaned over the side of his bed and stared at the empty bed across from him.

"Oh- fuck, you've gotta be kidding me? He's gone, that's just great, he already left," Dex mumbled to himself as he stood up, back cracking.

He stretched his arms up to the ceiling, twisting and yawning. Then, he stomped over and yanked their blackout blinds shut. Dex turned and grabbed his phone and then laid back down in bed in the blissful darkness. His first class wasn't until 1:00, so he had a nice day ahead of him, seeing as it was only 8:30. He checked Twitter first, liking some of Bitty's tweets and laughing at some new memes. Then, he stumbled across a tweet from one Derek M. Nurse posted only a couple minutes after Shitty's lecture.

derek loves smh @dnursey   when ur much better at shitty's end-of-lecture quizzes than that other guy #nailedit #educateyoself   [ Picture of a slightly crumbled piece of paper with what seems to be a quiz on it. Each answer is hastily bubbled in, and at the top is sloppy handwriting that reads "11/12 Excellent job, Nurse. Lots of improvement since last time." ]

Dex felt anger rising in the pit of his stomach. He snorted with intense derision as he finished reading Nurse's stupid post. He threw his phone to the foot of his bed. Dex laid there, just looking at the ceiling for a few minutes. Why the fuck was Nurse so annoying? Sure, his own quiz was lying next to his bed with a "7/12 Dex, I know you can do better. Don't let your anger get to you." written on it, but seriously, who the fuck even actually gives quizzes after lectures anyway. It was all too much for Dex sometimes. He had ideals and ideas and values and morals and a ton of other bullshit engrained in him from years of living in his small town in Maine. That type of stuff doesn't just fade away from 8 months at a private liberal arts college.

Sure, maybe he came to Samwell to discover more things and explore, but he was afraid sometimes. Afraid of rejection, of failure, of judgement. So many times he wanted to do something, but then worried about it getting out or being made fun of... or even of being supported. Knowing he now had people who would love and support him through whatever? That shit was scary. Dex didn't have any more excuses to push himself down because now he had people who wanted to build him up.

He leaned down and picked up the crumpled quiz off the floor. He smoothed it out before grabbing his computer. Maybe if they were so intent on building him up, he could help a little bit too.

-

A month later, Dex and Nursey were hanging out together in the Haus living room. Well, "hanging out" might be stretching it. They were in the same room, working on schoolwork separately. And not fighting. It was pretty much a miracle. However, getting to this point had required some hard work on their part. Something had flipped in Dex after Shitty's lecture. He realized the reason why he had picked Samwell. The slogan "1 in 4, maybe more" was burnt into the deepest recesses of his mind. Samwell represented everything Dex wanted to be - everything he couldn't be back in Maine. So, he had sat down with his computer that afternoon and searched everything he could on Protestant culture and its effect on modern America. Then, through gritted teeth with genuine emotion in his eyes, he apologized to Nurse the next day. Nursey accepted it with little chirping, apparently seeing something in Dex that was different from all the other apologies.

Dex continued to work on his behavior. He would borrow books on social justice and unbiased history from the Samwell library and engage respectfully in debates in his classes and even just out on the quad. He noticed that the team was being more open with him too. Before, they would hide the hard conversations and reprimands from him. But now, they had been including him, asking him for his opinions and educating him on important topics. Still, he and Nurse got into it sometimes, but now it was mostly just playful. Dex had come to love their arguments - it was amazing getting to be so intense and passionate with another person.

It felt... intimate, really. It was almost like, despite their two very different backgrounds, Nursey was the only person who really understood him. He knew the ins and outs of Dex's personality better than anybody, even Dex himself. He knew how to push his buttons, but he also knew to look out for Dex's shaking hands when he codes for too long and then get him a water or gatorade. Nursey knew Dex. And it felt good to be known.

Dex was deep in these thoughts as they laid together in the living room. Suddenly, a resounding BANG from the kitchen echoed throughout the Haus. The two of them scrambled to get up, Dex knocking over his computer and Nursey creating a shower of paper in the middle of the Haus. They rushed into the kitchen to find Bitty, covered in flour, the lid to the food processor missing.

"Oh y'all, I'm such a mess," he said, close to tears. "Finals are just stressing me out, no big deal."  

Dex ran to him, wrapping him in one of his signature bear hugs reserved for close friends. He locked eyes with Nurse over Bitty's head and they exchanged a curt nod. Nursey immediately began to clean up the mess in the kitchen while Dex led Bitty upstairs to the bathroom. He made sure Bitty was situated and ready to take a shower before heading back downstairs with a load of flour-covered clothes for the laundry.

"I'm going downstairs to do the wash," he called into the kitchen as he passed by the door.

Nursey just threw him a small wave before he turned back to scrub the tile. Dex smiled to himself the whole way down the stairs to the basement. Nursey and him were both learning; growing together.

Dex reached the bottom of the stairs still wrapped up in his thoughts. He really did love the way he and Nurse were getting along now - it caused something to stir inside him. He felt it deep in his stomach, something fiery and passionate just like Nursey coiling there every time they were together. Dex dumped the load into the washer. He just wished it had happened sooner. Nursey was one of his best friends now, along with Chowder. They were both such amazing people. Samwell had changed Dex - he was a better person now, with friends who loved him and helped him become the best version of himself that he could be. He set the dial to normal load and finished with pouring the detergent in. Then, he leaned against the washer and sunk deeper into his thoughts.

-

Nursey found him ten minutes later. He had flour in his hair and some in his stubble. His stupid hipster shirt was also covered in flour and he looked pretty angry. Dex had to laugh.

"God, Nurse, what was Bitty cooking in there?"

Nursey just groaned and glared at Dex. "Dude, get your ass up there! I need help cleaning up this mess."

Dex smirked, a glint of amusement in his eyes. ""Help'. 'Cleaning'. Two words I never expected Derek Malik Nurse to say at all, let alone in the same sentence. Didn't you have maids for that in your brownstone?"

Nursey stomped closer to him. "Well, you're the master of cleaning, huh? All those years in bumpkin Maine, on that lobster boat."

Let it never be said that William J. Poindexter was one to back down from a challenge. He stepped closer, laundry and flour both far from his mind. "Like you would know a thing about responsibility. It was all just prep school and expensive field trips and Broadway and hundred dollar dinners with you, huh? Never learned the value of hard work."

"Of course I know hard work, try writing a 20 page essay in a week. With a 15 page-"

Dex cut him off. "Try coding an entire plug-in in the 30 minutes so I have 30 minutes to troubleshoot in my hour long lab! English is just some words-"

"Oh, I've heard this one before! 'My name's Dex and I just think English is just some words on paper!'"

They were both yelling at this point, trying to outdo each other in the loudness factor. Their fights always ended like this. However, Dex was just realizing how close they were. In their fury, they had gotten almost uncomfortably close.

Intimate, Dex's mind whispered.

Dex tried to shove that thought from his mind and focus on Nursey's rant, but it lingered. Suddenly, almost as if he couldn't control his own limbs, he pushed Nurse against the washing machine. He held him there, wrists trapped against the cool metal.

Nursey became very quiet and swallowed.

Dex looked at him, with flour everywhere and a righteous passion still contained in his warm brown eyes. He leaned in close and released one of Nursey's wrists so he could cup his cheek.

"Is this okay?" He asked, head bent in close enough that his warm breath washed over Nursey's face.

Nursey nodded and whispered, "Just fucking kiss me, Poindexter."

Dex leaned in with just a faint brush of the lips. Then, Nursey pulled his other hand from Dex's grasp and pulled him in close, trapping him in an almost brusing kiss. They fought with each other just like in real life. Nursey moaned just a bit when Dex moved his body so he and Nursey were flush against each other. Dex took that as a sign, pushing his tongue into Nursey's mouth.

They pulled apart slowly, each breathing heavily. Nursey looked up at Dex from lidded eyes. Dex smiled in his head.

Finally, Nursey's passion was directed at him. And only him.

[studentandfox]

Help Me Move Out

Or move back in with my parents if you wanna be technical.

My mental health right now is a dumpster fire. My roommate is emotionally and financially abusive and I literally Cannot anymore. Nearly every day I or my other roommate get yelled at for something. Old rickety blinds break? Yelling at how they need to be replaced cause he’s not losing his part of the security deposit. Dishes left in the drying rack too long? Yelling about how we’re lazy and why can’t we manage to do anything around the house despite him never mopping or doing his dishes or taking out the trash or feeding his cat. Asking him to not yell at his video games at 11 at night? Yelling about how he’s just a loud person and he can’t help it. Telling him his comments are hurtful to us? Yelling about how he’s depressed too and why are we being so mean to him? My partner @sasra-the-magimin can attest to me walking through the door after work and my roommate immediately yelling at me about something even though I’m on the phone. Not to mention that he now only wants his part of the rent in cash because checks take too long. I’ve seen Judge Judy and I’m not stupid - I know paying in cash can fuck me over if he decides to say I didn’t pay my part.

My job is also not helping my mental well-being. I work at a pretty posh veterinary clinic where my boss knows I have ADD. I’ve also gotten three write-ups for not managing my time in appointments and failing to meet expectations. They’ve seen me folding laundry while crying and then guilt-tripping me about asking to leave work early. When I was calling the cops about a loved one self-harming I was told to clock out while making personal calls and that my next appointment was in 5 minutes. While telling my boss I had ADD I was told that everyone had ADD to some degree and to just take my meds. This Monday that same boss and my hospital manager were joking about a person they dislike being “off their meds” and yesterday another doctor made the same joke. Coincidentally, I am also off my meds because until my next paycheck, I can’t afford a recheck appointment ($200) or my prescriptions ($80 a month.) Veterinary medicine has a terrifyingly high rate of suicide and I don’t want to be the next statistic. I need to get out.

Getting out means quitting a pretty decently paying job with benefits and breaking my lease. Getting out means finding a new doctor and paying out of pocket for the visits and medications (tbh I can live without the Adderall but I need my anti-depressants.) Getting out means losing my part of the security deposit and having to pay extra fees.

Now I know we’re all in a rough spot and there are plenty of people worse off than me. I don’t want to guilt anyone into donating or spreading the word. I’d honestly even appreciate a kind message or prayers at this point - anything to help me keep away the darkness.

My PayPal is hjern11 at gmail. Any money donated will first go towards getting at least a 30-day supply of medication and then go into a savings account to help with my move.

[sisterofiris]

Hi! My roommate and I are both Christians but really love the ancient world. Yesterday, my roommate yelled some rude things at Zeus because it was raining. Today we both slept through her alarm and missed our archaeology class, and I had no memory of even going to bed (without doing a paper that was due which I then had to finish this morning). It's not like us at all. Could we have angered Zeus? How would we make amends? Thank you!

This is such a sweet question. Thank you for considering, as non Hellenic polytheists, that you may have shown disrespect towards a Hellenic deity, and for asking about the appropriate way to apologise. This kind of thoughtfulness means a lot.

As for your question, I wouldn’t rule out that Zeus could be angry at you. People being punished for cursing a deity are a well-attested occurrence in ancient texts. That said - and bear in mind I can’t speak for the Gods, this is only my opinion - I believe that rude comments are currently not Zeus’ main concern. We’re not in Ancient Greece anymore; most people are not Hellenic polytheists, and as such, they can’t be expected to behave according to Hellenic religious values. If the Gods truly did punish every single person who mocked or insulted them, much of the world’s population would be suffering from chronic bad luck!

This doesn’t mean, of course, that an apology isn’t in order. Compare it to how a lot of people treat caretakers, cleaners, or anyone in customer service. These workers are used to being ignored and/or treated badly, and if you are rude to them, it will (sadly) not be anything new. But if you realise you stepped out of line, go back, and apologise, it will almost definitely be appreciated.

The traditional way to apologise, in Hellenic polytheism, is to propitiate the deity with an offering. If you are comfortable doing this, it would entail washing your hands and face with clean water, calling upon Zeus (something as simple as “Zeus of the rain, listen to me” will do, though you’re free to make it more elaborate), presenting him with an offering (a small portion of your meal, a biscuit/cookie, olives…) or libation (olive oil, wine…), and formally apologising for your roommate’s words. I wouldn’t partake in the offering; instead I would leave it somewhere where it can decompose, or throw it out.

On the other hand, I understand if you, as a Christian, would rather not approach a non-Christian deity in this way. Your commitment to your God, and your own comfort zone, matter too. Another, more secular option would be to simply state your apology out loud, for example: “Zeus, we were disrespectful towards you yesterday and we apologise. We may be Christians, but we still appreciate your culture and history. We will do our best to let our behaviour reflect that in the future.” As I mentioned above, this sentiment is meaningful not only to Zeus, but also to Hellenic polytheists, as it’s an acknowledgement that our religion deserves the same respect as others.

I hope this is helpful to you. Good luck to both of you with your studies - archeology is a fantastic field!

[mini-min-yoongi]

April AO3 Yoonmin readings:

Hi~ This month I read mostly Yoonmin fics, but there are a few other pairings, I specify which ones so that nobody gets confused. I’m posting this super late, it’s already June, but I do these mostly for myself so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ However, if there are people who find these useful or like them then that’s even better! Enjoy~

1) The Red Light Sector (All Dressed-Up)

Yoongi’s been through robberies, kidnappings, murders, torture, set-ups and betrayals without feeling a thing. Not even in his worst nightmares had he ever expected to be finally broken down, so swiftly, by a stunning boy with a hot silver tongue and diamond smile.

Yoongi’s dangerous, but Park Jimin is fatal.

Gangsters au in which Yoongi is a mafia boss (and Jungkook’s older brother, I love this dynamic) and Jimin is a hooker. It has angst but also fluff. All of BTS is part of Yoongi’s gang.

2) half feral, but just right (Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics)

What is an alpha supposed to do? Keep their head down, ignore the jabs and jeers, stay out of jail for being born different.

Feral, as they like to call it.

Yoongi knows the status quo.

3) didn’t sign up for this

when jin tells him about jimin, he imagines a tall, lanky, university stud who showers maximum twice a week. one can say yoongi has a poor sense of imagination.

College au. Yoongi and Jimin are roommates. Very cute and funny.

4) It's The Most Wonderful Time (Of The Year) (*)

Park Jimin is only three years old when he meets cooler, older, and smarter Min Yoongi for the first time, and is immediately enamoured.

For the first time in his entire life, Jimin feels an emotion he never thought he would feel: infatuation.

Not that he even understands what that feeling means.

All he knows is that there’s a small, pale boy at the front door of his home, right under the hanging mistletoe, firmly gripping his father’s hand and his mother’s skirt as he stares unabashedly into Jimin’s eyes, rendering him absolutely speechless.

Or

childhood best friends yoonmin growing up together and experiencing the complexities of love & relationships, as well as, the harsh realities of growing older over the years, on Christmas day

I really like fics that focus on the struggles of growing up and how things change over the years and this one does that. There are very cute moments, especially when they are kids. There’s also angst and misunderstandings which I really enjoyed.

5) I'm Glad You're My First (First for Everything) (contains smut) 

Jimin wasn’t a prude, he just liked saving his firsts for everything for someone special. And, that special someone was Min Yoongi.

A compilation of their first times. I liked the angst in this one.

6) be mine (be my baby, my one and only) Series

Yoongi is the master of badassery. He has a car, a bad habit (or a few), piercings, and tattoos galore. He's also severely whipped for Park Jimin.

(Same goes for Jimin, but at least he's not so shameless about it.)

6.1 Leave Before the Lights Come On

Yoongi calls Jimin his sweetheart and Jimin really loves that.

6.2 James Dean, You're my Daydream

Jimin and Yoongi share a milkshake.

7) A Universal Language Meant Only for You (contains smut) (*)

Being deaf, Jimin lives his life in complete silence, alienated by people who can't understand his language until he meets Yoongi, who showers him with love, not by words but through little things:

Yoongi proposes with one piece of elusive street art a day for five days leading up to Valentine's Day.

I’m a sucker for these stories. Jimin is deaf and Yoongi is an artist and the sweetest boyfriend who showers him with love.

8) Pretty in Pink (not ym - Namjoon/Seokjin, contains smut)

On the Internet, college senior Kim Seokjin is known as the Pink Princess: a blogger that inspires his thousands of followers by not being afraid to accept and be himself. In real life, he is known as "that weirdo wearing girly clothes."

Seokjin is aware that he is not the type of person you’d expect to wear pastel fashion. He's not short. He doesn’t have a feminine face. He's not tiny and frail, his broad shoulders attesting to that. People look at him strangely, some going as far as to call him names. Despite this, Seokjin doesn’t allow the judgment from others to stop him from liking what he likes (including people of the same sex).

However, Seokjin's confidence and acceptance of who he is will be tested when he falls for an underground rapper who is more troubled than he lets on.

College AU. Pastel!Jin and Underground!Namjoon

9) No Ordinary Life (*)

The thing about falling in love is that it's not always convenient. The thing about falling in love is that sometimes it's impossible, especially when it's with your groupmate.

("How long?" Hoseok asks, and Yoongi doesn't have to prod to know what he means. How long have you been in love with him?

"I dunno," he murmurs. "Forever, maybe.")

BTS/Canon universe. Angst, angst, angst! I really liked this fic. It depicts the struggles that Jimin and Yoongi go through. They are in love but don’t want to damage the group or people finding out about their relationship. Even though I’ve read other stories where this also happens, I really enjoyed the author‘s take on this issue and the way in which they developed it.

10) A Dance of Poppies (Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, contains smut) (*)

When Jimin's family is killed, Yoongi's pack takes him in, and they fall in love over the years.

This story was AWESOME. I’m really into angst but only to a certain extent and this story has that angsty background, but the story is also super cute and fluffy. Seeing Yoongi and Jimin growing up, falling in love, getting jealous, going through hardships until they finally get their happy ending was amazing. I really liked it.

11) The Professor’s Family Series

(not ym - Namjoon/Seokjin, Jungkook/Taehyung)

Professor Kim Namjoon is married.

He doesn't have a wife.

They have a sort-of son.

And Jeon Jungkook just crossed paths with them.

Notes:

A new universe I've been thinking about lately. Family!Bangtan, Married!Namjin, and Kid!Taehyung with Jungkook is my jam. Will be updated when inspiration strikes.

11.1. The Professor’s Wife

Everybody knew Professor Kim was already married. It was actually the first thing they asked the man during the first day of classes, with one brave student asking the question out loud for everyone to hear. The older man responded with deep dimples and a raised left hand, letting everyone see the plain, silver band glittering on his ring finger.

But, as one Jeon Jungkook found out, they were all completely, terribly wrong.

What? The Professor didn't say he had a wife.

11.2. The Professors Son

Math was often misunderstood, Taehyung said, on one of their dates along the Han River. People were always so afraid of it and refused to know more about it, dismissed it as something hard and unreachable and it made Taehyung upset. If people only tried to understand, he insisted, if only people approached it with an open mind and didn’t give up, then maybe a lot more people would love Math and would want to learn about it like he did.

Jungkook didn’t understand at first, but after knowing Taehyung, he now did.

Before he realized what was happening, thinking about Taehyung made his heart turn, dance a kind of waltz, then suddenly fell.

Before he knew it, Jungkook was totally, completely in love with him.

12) Tattooed Heart (*)

Five times Yoongi tattoos himself with small things he loves about his boyfriend, and one time Jimin does the same.

This was too cute and heartwarming. And Yoongi with tattoos, what else can I say??

13) My Darling Venus (contains smut) (*)

“'It’s me – Jimin! Dear fuck, I can't believe this,' okay maybe Yoongi is still asleep and dreaming. Yes, that must be it. Why else would he see his best friend standing in front of him as a girl if this wasn't a dream.

Yoongi doesn’t really want to question why he’s dreaming of his best friend being a girl. A smoking hot girl at that. It’d just shatter his world view if he thought too much about it.

So he answers in the only possible way he can think of and just snorts.”

Jimin wakes up as a girl and chaos enfolds.

First time reading a genderbend fic and I really enjoyed it! I feel like this can be very tricky to write, but I thought that the author did a good job with the way in which she resolved everything.

14) Behind Inked Bricks (*)

(Yoongi/Jimin, Namjoon/Seokjin, baby brothers Tae & Koo)

After spending time with his twin nephews, Jimin starts picturing a future he's pining for - where he's cooking up in the kitchen, the dogs are running around and Yoongi's sitting on the couch with their child snuggled up in his lap, reading a book. And after having an epiphany with the help of a six-year-old, Yoongi too starts seeing his future differently.

Or a fluffy, sweet fic with parents!Namjin, twins!Taekook, uncles!Hoseok&Jimin, tatted up!Yoonmin and all its glorious chaos.

So cute so cute so cute so cuteeeeeeee. Yoongi with tattoos and Yoonmin with kids (even if they aren’t their own) are my weaknesses for real. This was seriously adorable and I want to pinch baby Jungkook and Taehyung’s cheeks so much!! I also really love how all of BTS are literally family in this one :’)

(*) My favourite ones