#okay let me tag them all in order in case anyone’s curious

[courfeyracs-swordcane]

OKAY inspired by that other poll that went around (would you vote your blorbo for president) and the fact that these guys have to rebuild their city government at the end of the story. Uh.

(and by my ocs. I mean two of them are @nosongunsung11’s and two of them are @wildfandom’s)

[rayslittlekitten]

Can I?

A/N: Okay y'all. It's here, it's done. Y'all voted on this a while back and it was a bit challenging as I made the mistake of starting to write it with Will in mind so I had to make adjustments, but I think I figured it out. Thank you so so much to @musings-of-a-rose for taking a look at this for me. You are a doll!

Rating: E (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 6,033

Pairing: Benny Miller x BFF! F! Reader

Plot: A night of unexpected events occur when you and your best friend innocently test out sex toys you had drunkenly purchased for shits and giggles.

WARNINGS: This is the first fic I am NOT including warning tags because I don't want to spoil anything. There's nothing typically potentially triggering like dark stuff (i.e. CNC) but still I wanted to keep it a mystery going in. SO PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

Your friends were supposed to watch the fight with you tonight but they had bailed with some excuse or two except for your best friend. You thought that his brother would at least still be joining as they usually do everything together - like you wouldn’t be surprised if you found out they hold each other’s dicks while the other pisses - but it’s just going to be you and him tonight. Instead of going to the bar like originally planned, you both decided to pick up a case of beer and hang out at your place. It’s cheaper and less crowded. 

There’s a rap at your apartment door and you go to open it. As expected, it's your best friend with the supply.

“Hey, Benny! Just in time!”

"Hey, you got a package," Benny says as he hands you the beer. He bends down to pick up the small brown box off the floor by your door. "What did you order?"

"I have no idea what that is," you reply as you make your way over to the kitchen to stick it in the fridge. "I don't remember ordering anything. Where does it say it's from?"

"The return address just says Warehouse, in Ohio," he replies, inspecting the non-descript package and following you further into your apartment after shutting the door behind him.

He hands you the cardboard box before taking his jacket off and making himself at home. You rip open the package and after seeing the contents, you laugh out loud.

"What's so funny?" he asks, walking closer to you.

"This was a drunk purchase. I totally forgot about these!" You reach in to pull out the items and show him your new purchases.

"What are those?" He looks perplexed.

“This one is a vibrator I keep seeing on Instagram, but it's supposed to be like, amazing," you answer.

"How the hell are you supposed to use that?" He takes one of the packages from you and inspects it, looking at the pictures on the box.

"Well, one way you can use it is you insert this side into your pussy and this part is supposed to sit on your clit," you point and explain to him. "It also comes with a detached remote so someone else can control it.

"I don't know if that's a terrible time or a great time."

"The vibration is supposed to be very powerful but quiet," you add. "Supposed to be discreet. They try to sell it by showing women supposedly wearing it in public under their clothes without anyone apparently knowing and their partner has control of it and she's like losing her shit."

"I'm curious now."

"For science!" You declare as you snatch the package from him. You start opening it up and pull the contents out. "Shit, it needs AAA batteries. TV remote!"

You head to the living room and he follows you. You take the batteries out of your TV remote and shove them into the new toy. After turning it on, it buzzes lightly in your hand, moving subtly.

"Let's see how crazy it can get." You start playing with the buttons until it goes up to the highest setting and Ben's eyes get wide as saucers watching it flop around in your palm, practically jumping out of your hand.

"Jesus Christ!" Benny hops back.

"Yeah, now imagine that between your legs."

"I'm not sure I want to. Looks like it would scramble all the sperm inside my balls. Besides, I don't think it was made for my body parts," he points out.

"You just don’t have an imagination," you jab. "Hmm, should we test drive it?" you suggest as you shut it off.

“What do you mean?" he asks curiously.

"See if the hype is real," you answer. "Especially that other one." You point to the other toy that's still in its package.

"That one's supposed to feel like your clit is actually getting sucked on."

"I didn't even know such toys exist," he confesses. 

"There are soooo many sex toys out there, you don't even know. Why don't you go get us some cold ones while I figure these out?" you suggest.

"You really wanna do this?” He checks again.

"Yeah, why not? It's not like we have anything else better to do except watch two grown men beat each other up," you state. “Come on, this isn’t any different than the time we accidentally found Will’s porn stash and you got a boner.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t jerk off.”

“You totally did. Not in front of me, but you were not discreet when you snuck off to the bathroom with one of his magazines to ‘take a shit’,” you look at him knowingly.

“Okay, fine,” he shrugs and adjusts his forward-facing cap. “You have a point.” He heads back into the kitchen to grab some beer.

When he comes back with two opened bottles in hand, he finds you reading the manual and reviewing the other toy.

"So how exactly are we testing these?" he asks, settling down next to you on the couch and taking a gulp of his beer.

"Well, I'm not gonna stick it down my pants if that's what you're thinking. Would that be too weird?” You scrunch your nose while looking over at your best friend who looks just as clueless.

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking. It ain't going down my pants. No amount of alcohol is gonna get that to happen."

"Okay, I didn't think this through. I mean, I guess we can just test it on our arms or something," you shrug cluelessly, thinking of the first thing that comes to mind and then going back to the manual.

"How would that work?" Benny asks as he takes the remote sitting next to him, inspecting it.

As you begin to answer, he starts randomly pressing buttons and you shriek, jumping in your seat. Benny also jumps back, spilling some of his beer as he reacts to your sudden outburst.

"What the hell?!" He looks over to you.

You instantly reach for the vibrator that happened to be sitting between your legs, snug against the front of your pants and toss it at him. Benny tries to dodge it like it's a dead cockroach, but it lands on his lap and he immediately launches himself off the couch. The vibrator continues to bounce around the cushion of the couch until Benny finally shuts it off.

"What the hell was that, man?" Benny looks over at you.

"It was between my legs when you turned it on, you ass!"

“Well, what the hell was it doing there? You said you weren't gonna test it that way."

"I wasn't! It just happened to be there while I was reading on how to operate the other one. Why'd you turn it on?" You shoot back.

"I don't know what the hell I'm doing!" He shouts. "This shit is like rocket science! How do you women even use these things?"

"Men use them too," you correct him. 

“Well, clearly I never have," he admits and returns to his seat, flicking the vibrator towards you to make room for himself.

"You're such a prude. It's not like I was wearing it," you say, grabbing it away from him.

"I'm not a prude! You freaked out so I freaked out." He takes another gulp of his beer.

"Whatever," you mumble, still feeling a bit flustered and embarrassed by what had happened. You turn your attention back to the other toy. 

"Wait, you've never used any sex toys before?" you shift your attention back to him.

"Nope," he shakes his head.

"Not even with a partner?" You raise a brow.

"Well, one time this girl wanted to make things interesting and suggested a dildo, but it wasn't for her," he starts. "She wanted to stick that up my ass and I was not about that. Especially not after what I had for lunch that day."

"Aww, no peggy for Benny?" you exaggerate a pout.

"Hey, you should think twice about who you're poking fun of.” He shows you the remote in his hand and turns it back on, spooking you when the vibrator goes off between you and Benny.

"Okay, you're having too much fun with that." You reach over to grab the remote from him but he moves it away from your reach. 

You lean in further, but his long arm prevents you from getting access to it. At this point, you’re practically climbing on top of him. 

“You’re right. This is fun,” he laughs.

When you get close, he transfers the remote to his other hand so you shift yourself but lose your balance, landing back on the still-on vibrator. You shriek and Benny laughs at you. He turns the setting to the highest as you try to get away from it in your awkward position.

"Benny! You can't just go from 1 to 100 instant—" You finally roll off of it and give yourself a moment. With your eyes closed and teeth digging hard into your lower plump lip, you try to get yourself together.

“Are- are you okay?” Benny asks as his laugh dwindles. “Did you have an orgasm or something?” he jokes.

“No…” you start. “But maybe I almost did - maybe!”

His laugh finally dies, but a smirk remains on his face.

“Seriously?!” His eyes grow wide, turning his body towards you.

“That toy is no joke,” you point to it still wriggling on the couch. “And now I really wanna know what it can do.”

Benny shuts it off and his eyes shuttle between the toy and you.

“Uh… like, now?” He questions.

You stare at him for a few seconds, contemplating. 

“That would be weird, right?” You ask with a squinted eye. “Never mind, forget it—”

“Have at it,” Benny interrupts. “Now I wanna see what this thing can do, too.”

“Really?” You ask with a raised brow, surprised.

“Yeah, like you said, what else is there to do? For science!” He brings up his beer bottle to celebrate it.

“Dork,” you chuckle, snatching the toy.

“Also, maybe I can learn a thing or two from it,” he replies. “Not that I need any help in that department, but I’m always open to learning new things,” he adds.

You roll your eyes.

“Hey, I’m a fighter and a lover. And I’m great at both,” he winks. 

“Are you done stroking your own ego?” You look at him, unimpressed.

“I’m sorry. Yes, you can go on to stroke yourself,” he answers, trying to keep a straight face but ends up cracking a smirk.

“You’re so dumb,” you roll your eyes again and try not to crack your own.

“But I gotta be the one in control.” He holds up the remote in his hand.

“Benny-“

“I may never have the opportunity to ever do this again,” he says. “Besides, isn’t it what makes this fun? Someone else controlling it?”

You stare back at him and think about it.

“Okay, fine, but-“ you point a finger at him.

“I promise I won’t go from zero to 100, okay? Scout’s honor.” Benny brings his three middle fingers up.

“You weren’t a boy scout,” you point out.

“Fuck you. I was one for like a month,” he corrects you. “So are we doing this or what?”

“Turn around,” you tell him.

“What? I can’t watch?”

“Not watch me put this on. Turn around,” you repeat.

He rolls his eyes and turns his whole body around so the back of his head is facing you. You keep an eye on him as you wrangle your jeans and slip the toy inside you until it fits snug. Benny takes a sip of his beer as he waits patiently. He hears you fumbling around and finally you tell him he can turn back around.

He turns to face you and he looks confused.

“What?” You ask him.

“You have it on? Under your jeans?”

“Yes. I wasn’t gonna let it all hang out willy-nilly,” you tell him. “If you don’t believe me, turn it—“

Before you can finish your sentence, Benny flips the switch and you seize up. He can’t hear it, but your reaction confirms you have it in. He watches you as you stay still and quiet for a few moments.

“Can I up the speed?” He asks.

“Is this the lowest setting?” You calmly shoot back.

“Uh, yeah I think so.” He looks down at the remote to see if there’s any indication.

“Okay, go up one notch. One!” You glare at him.

“Okay, here we go.” He turns it up and you twitch.

You start shifting around in your seat until you feel the vibrator is in optimal position.

“How many speeds does this thing have again?” You ask out loud, reaching for the instruction manual and scanning it. “TEN?”

“Well, here’s number three,” Benny says as he ups the speed.

“Ben— ohhhhh…” Your scolding got cut short when the vibrator starts to really hit the right spots. 

The tip of the dildo part tickles your g-spot as the outer part flickers over your clit. You close your eyes and bite your lower lip, trying to concentrate and keep your composure.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” you mumble.

“Uh… how are you doing?” He asks, not sure what else to do.

“I’m… “ you freeze up for a quick second and then relax, letting out a heavy breath. “Jeeeesus,” you hiss.

Benny remains quiet as he watches you slightly gyrate against the couch. You close your legs together and cross your knees, trying to recalibrate yourself for the ideal position. He notices your breathing has gotten heavier.

“Higher?” He asks quietly, afraid to interrupt your flow.

“I’m already slipping all around,” you answer without opening your eyes, almost forgetting you aren’t alone.

“That’s not a no…” he points out.

Your teeth digs even deeper into your lower lip as you contemplate whether you want to chase your impending orgasm or not. You hate that at the current setting, it’s only enough to edge you and need a bit more to get you over the top. 

“Okay,” you finally say. “Do it.”

Benny takes it to number four and you yelp instantly.

"Oh my god," you start giggling. "This is fucking crazy!"

Your thighs tightly clamp together and your back arches off the couch. You throw your head back as your jaw drops open, letting out a silent scream. Your hips rock against the vibrator, trying to get to the finish line.

"I'm not gonna lie. This is getting me hard."

You open your eyes and glance over at him to see him palming the front of his jeans and rubbing himself through the denim as he watches you trying not to lose your shit.

“How close are you?" he asks.

You feel your face get really warm all of a sudden. His baby blues pierce your eyes and you're suddenly feeling more vulnerable than you already are, like you just got caught doing something you shouldn't be doing, but at the same time, it’s kinda hot seeing Benny turned on watching you to the point where he’s quasi-touching himself. Noticing your state of shock, he amps up the vibration and you let out an uncontrolled moan.

"Oh, fuck!“

Your hips buck off the couch as your orgasm comes crashing down on you. You continue to moan as you ride the wave and try to catch the next one, grinding down on the couch. You don’t even care how silly you might look to Ben right now. All your focus is what’s going on between your legs. Suddenly the vibrator gets stronger again.

“Ben, stop! It’s too much!” You shriek.

You’re relieved when the torture stops, but it also feels odd as you feel the residual buzzing between your legs.

“So… how was it?” Benny breaks the silence. “Was it all your hopes and dreams?”

You take a moment to yourself to process the experience before answering.

“This shit is… I don’t think I ever want to experience the highest setting on this thing,” you tell him. “This thing is like a torture device. It feels like I pissed myself.”

You turn to look at him as you catch your breath and you’re reminded that Benny’s having his own fun with this, bringing you back down to earth. He scoots a bit closer to you with his hand still over his crotch. This new tension is clearly mutually felt as you both stare at each other, waiting for the other person to say or do something first. Your eyes ping pong between his face and his crotch, which he is still lazily rubbing.

“So uh… what now?” Benny asks, licking his lips. “Round two?” he brings up the remote still in his hand.

“N-no! No, no! Don’t you dare-“ you reach for the remote again, but he pulls it back behind him.

You chase after it, lunging towards him and end up getting right in his face.

“Benny!” You try again, but pause when you catch him staring at you, his face no more than a few inches away from yours. 

It may be the post-orgasm bliss or the awkward position you both found yourselves in, but you’ve never noticed how easy on the eyes your best friend is. He swallows hard as his eyes scan your face.

“Can… can I kiss you?"  he asks suddenly, leaning in and nudging your nose with his, testing the boundaries.

You lick your dry lips and swallow as you glance down at his mouth, seeing it slowly closing the distance. He ghosts his lips over yours, stopping short of actually putting it on yours, waiting for your permission. You answer his question by closing the gap, slotting your mouth over his.

He kisses back, gently at first, matching your energy. When you slip your tongue into his mouth, he cups your face and returns the gesture. You’re both now devouring each other as he turns his body towards you to get into a more comfortable position, adjusting himself to accommodate the bulge in his jeans.

You both continue to make out with more urgency. Benny’s hands start cautiously exploring your body, placing a hand on your waist at first. It wanders down to your hip and he gives it a squeeze. Your own hands start roaming Benny’s body, touching his hard chest first. His warmth is welcoming, making you twist your body and lean into him. Feeling bold, Benny’s hand wanders to your thigh, his fingers brushing the inside, but far from your wet patch. 

“Can I touch you down there?” He mumbles between kisses while moving his mouth to the side of your face and down your neck.

“Wha-“ You let out a loud sigh when you feel his soft wet tongue on the side of your neck, shivering when he grazes a sensitive spot.

“Can I touch you down there?” Ben repeats, pulling back, his lust-filled eyes looking down into yours.

His fingers barely scrapes your inner thigh, but you feel the jolt of his touch travel up to where the vibrator is still sitting.

“Please?” He squeaks out as his fingers travel up higher and his breathing gets heavier, matching yours.

Even though the vibrator isn’t on, it still brushes against your clit every time you shift and it’s only making you want Benny more, to help you get some relief. Even though you’ve already cum, you are hornier than ever right now.

You simply nod before capturing his mouth again. You moan into his mouth when you feel his hand cupping you, rubbing small slow circles with his fingers. Your hips twitch when he drags his middle finger up and down the thick seam of your pants that’s pressing directly down the center of the outer part of the vibrator which is sitting directly on your clit. He’s barely putting any pressure, but you’re hypersensitive right now and it feels like torture. 

Now impatient, you start undoing your pants, trying to quickly get them off. You break the kiss to take a few seconds to focus on ridding your jeans. Benny watches you as he palms himself again, touching himself like he did with you. When you finally get your jeans off, tossing it over the couch, you reach into your underwear to remove the bane of your current existence - the vibrator. Without much effort, the vibrator basically falls out of you. It is drenched in your arousal, a thin sticky string still connects you to it. 

It made an audible noise when it slipped out of you, as did Benny. Before you can discard the very used toy, Benny’s hand is back on you, his fingertips teasing the band of your underwear. He keeps dipping further and discovers how slick you really are.

"Jeeeeesus Christ, you weren't kidding. That shit got you so fucking wet," he comments while teasing your opening, slowly dipping his fingertip in, putting light pressure against it but it took no effort to penetrate you.

An audible squelch can be heard when he enters a second finger. You moan, feeling his thick fingers filling you and stroking you inside. He’s definitely reaching places the vibrator couldn’t. He hums watching your face distort when he pushes in further.

Your hand grips his strong forearm, feeling his veins raised and his muscles flexing underneath your palms as he pumps his long fingers in and out of you. The tip of his tongue darts out and licks the corner by his upper lip as he starts curling his fingers up, reaching for that soft spongy spot at the roof of your vagina. Your legs open up wider for him as his fingertips rub your g-spot over and over again. Your senses are heightened watching him watching you with darkened eyes. His thumb starts rubbing your clit as he massages your g-spot and it doesn’t take long for your orgasm to peak. You rock your hips against his fingers as your muscles continually clench and release over his fingers. 

"Holy sh-shit," you tremble, feeling the aftershocks.

He pulls his fingers out, dragging them over your clit along the way, making your body twitch at the sensitivity. 

“I think I made you cum faster than that toy did,” he jokes.

You crack a half smile but you don’t have the brain power to conjure up a verbal response. After a shared moment, he leans in to give you a quick peck on your lips. As he gets up off the couch, Benny takes his cap off to adjust the position of it, switching it backwards before settling between your legs. 

The front of your thin cotton panties are completely drenched through. He can see your outline as the damp fabric clings to your puffy lips. 

“Can I taste you?” 

His puppy eyes peek up from between your legs. Your brain is mush so you simply nod.

He bunches the top of your underwear in his hand and yanks it up, causing it to brush across your clit. Your hips twitch and as he continues to rub the fabric over you, seeing your reaction to it and drawing out the tease. You moan and gyrate your hips when he puts his mouth between your legs over your underwear.  He laps up your juices, licking and sucking as he continues to tug at your panties taut against your dripping cunt, putting pressure on your sensitive nub.

"Ben…" you pant as you push his cap off and run your fingers through his messy dirty blonde hair.

His scruff brushes the insides of your thigh as he continues to eat you out. You gasp when you feel the tip of his tongue breaching your opening, forcing your underwear aside and exposing your core. He puts more pressure with his tongue, slipping in deeper inside you and tasting you. Your hips start rocking against his face, but his tongue can only go so far. He shifts his attention to the swollen bud a little higher, scrunching your panties aside. He circles your clit with the tip before pressing the flat of his tongue and then his mouth over it, hollowing out his cheeks as he sucks hard. Your thighs clamp around his head and his eyes focus on your face as his tongue continues to play your clit like a fiddle. He grips your hips and holds you down.

“F-fuck…” your breathing becomes irregular as your orgasm builds.

With his mouth still attached to you, he slips his finger inside you to try to find that spot again. You thrust against his face when you feel your third release breaching. Benny intensifies his sucking and fingering, feeling you clench around him. You cry out when the dam breaks and you convulse around him. He doesn’t stop until you still. As you’re coming down from your high, body slouched from being spent, he withdraws his fingers and licks them clean.

“So you wanna try that other toy now to see how it compares to the real thing?” He asks as he stands up and wipes his mouth.

He was right about him not needing any help in the bedroom department. You can barely form words right now. Never in a million years would you think your best friend can eat pussy like an expert. Taking from his brother who he regularly competes with, he always strives to be the best in everything he does, but this is on a whole different level. And now he wants to use another toy on you? You don’t think anything can top what he just did to you.

"W-what?" you ask cluelessly, still recovering the most mind blowing oral sex you have ever received. 

Your eyes follow him as he reaches for the suction toy to show you. He tries to figure out how to turn it on as he kneels down, returning between your legs.

"You gotta help me out here--"

He's suddenly interrupted when you grab his face and smash your lips against his, tasting yourself. He abandons the toy somewhere and moves up to the couch next to you. You reposition yourself to straddle his lap as you continue to make out. As your hands wander down to the buttons of his jeans, he grabs your ass, squeezing them in his large hands. 

When you successfully get his jeans undone, he lifts his hips and helps you pull down his bottoms until he springs free. You look down and reach for his thick cock, warm and soft to the touch. You jerk him as he’s already hard as a rock. Your thumb brushes the underside of his head.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

Now it’s your turn to torture him. You slide off his lap and on to the floor, kneeling between his knees. Once in a comfortable position, you grab his length, licking a trail from the base to the tip, maintaining eye contact the entire time. When you get to the top, you wrap your lips around him, wetting the head a bit before inching down to taste the rest of him. Your tongue swirls around his smooth and salty skin, lubricating him as you bob up and down.

“Shhhhit…” He throws his head back against the couch.

Feeling frisky, you try to deep throat him and he grasps within arms reach whatever he can as he groans. He looks over when a hand grabs something unfamiliar to him. It’s the vibrator and an idea comes to his mind.

“Wait,” he reluctantly stops you.

You pause and see him holding up the vibrator.

“Put this on while you suck me. I think it’ll be fun.”

You look at the vibrator for a moment and then back at him.

“I promise I won’t put it so high,” he reassures you.

“Fine,” you agree and you take it from him and slip it inside you, orienting it the right way. “You try anything and I’ll bite your dick off,” you warn, drawing a small chuckle out of Ben.

You get back into the position you were in before and put your mouth back on him. As you go back to sucking him, you yelp when Benny turns the vibrator on at a low speed. The noise you made sent a delightful vibration down his cock, making it twitch. He turns it up a notch and your hips move against the vibrator. You start moving up and down on him a little faster, stroking the base where your mouth can’t reach. You deepthroat him again until you gag, but you keep on going, sending your spit dripping down his cock and lubing him up.

“You look so fucking hot,” Benny pants.

His breathing is getting more labored. His hips jerk up and he places a hand on the back of your head. He’s not putting any pressure, but he fists your hair. He doesn’t pull on it, just moves with you as you fuck him with your mouth. You start quickening your pace feeling the vibrator getting stronger, trying to match it. Feeling the beginning of an orgasm forming, you rock your hips and suck him harder.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he warns you.

Not changing your rhythm, you watch him come undone as he pops in your mouth. He thrust into your face as his moans echo in the small space and grasps the remote in his hand, accidentally jumping it up another level, but it’s what you needed to push you over the edge. You grind against the toy as you moan with him still deep inside your mouth. He spills out of the corner of your mouth as his hips slow down.

When he stills, you suck him clean and swallow the load that remained in your mouth. You reach down to pull the vibrator off and toss it onto his lap. Benny jumps in his seat and shuts it off. You wipe the corner of your mouth and chin with the back of your hand as you get up off your knees. He looks back at you with tired eyes as he tries to catch his breath, cock twitching. You squeal when he grabs your wrist and pulls you into his lap, careful with his half hard cock. You straddle his lap and he kisses you, his tongue thrusting into your mouth, tasting a bit of himself. The two of you lazily make out for a bit until Benny pulls back. You lick your lips and smile, looking down at him.

“We should start making this a regular thing, ya know. The toy testing,” Benny suggests, breaking the awkward silence and lightening the mood.

“Well, I do have a dildo I haven’t tried yet,” you half-joke.

He looks back at you with narrow eyes.

“You’re not putting that in my ass,” he states.

“Not what I was thinking,” you chuckle as you shake your head. “I’ve always wanted to know what it felt like to be double penetrated,” you explain.

Benny stares at you with a blank expression, but you see his semi twitch in your peripheral. 

“Gi-give me maybe fifteen minutes—“ he finally says, pointing to his softening cock.

“Whoa! Hold it there, cowboy,” you stop him. “Why don’t we just think on that? Besides, I don’t have any condoms or lube for that to happen.”

“Yeah, okay. Sure,” he shrugs. “I-I had a good time, if that’s what you were wonder—“

You silence him with a tender kiss before grabbing the vibrator to remove the batteries and toss them at him.

“I’m gonna clean up. Why don’t you put the fight on? I think It’s starting soon,” you tell him as you dismount him and grab your jeans off the floor while Benny pulls his bottoms back up.

“Look what the guys missed out on. Coulda had an orgy,” you joke.

“If everyone showed up, we’d be at a bar,” he points out, then swishes some beer inside his mouth.

“Fair. Okay, a Miller sandwich then,” you switch it up.

Benny chokes on his beer.

“Kidding!” You chuckle awkwardly. “Kinda. Sorry, you probably don’t wanna think about you and your brother fucking the same person at the same time,” you snort before finally heading to the bathroom.

When you get back, you find Benny putting his phone away and relaxing on the couch like he was before any of the sexy stuff had happened, with the TV on. The awkwardness returns. He hands you your beer as you sit down next to him, settling in. You both quietly watch the fight as it starts, but you steal glances at each other every now and then. At one point, you do a double take.

“Dude, are you smelling your fingers?” You look at him incredulously.

“What? I washed them, but I can still smell you.”

You grimace at him.

“Don’t look at me like that. You smell good,” he shrugs. “It’s actually getting me hard again.”

You watch him adjust himself. The both of you stare each other down, trying to read each other until a knock on your door breaks the trance.

“Who the hell is that?” You ask, but Benny shrugs.

You get up to open the door and find the other Miller brother on the other side.

“Hey, sorry I’m late! I had trouble finding parking. Did the fight start already?”

You look back at him confused.

“Uh… are you gonna let me in?” Will asks. “I brought goodies.” He shows the case of beer and grocery store bag in his hand with a party sized bag of chips peeking out.

“Sorry, I just thought you weren’t coming,” you tell him while letting him in.

“I texted Benny telling him plans changed last minute. Did he not get it?”

“Uh, I-I don’t know. He didn’t tell me anything.” You lead him into the living room where Benny almost looks surprised.

“Did you not tell her I’m coming?” Will asks his brother.

“Oh, sorry, forgot. I was uh, a little preoccupied,” he apologizes.

Will looks at both you and Benny suspiciously. 

“It smells… interesting in here,” he comments, his eyebrows furrow with curiosity.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry Will. Let me take that from you.” You quickly change the subject, taking the bag and beer out of his hands.

“Wait-” Will starts.

“Get comfy. I’ll bring you back a cold beer,” you tell him before whisking away.

You stick the beer in the fridge and when you remove the party sized tortillas to pour some into a bowl, you notice some unexpected items in the bag. You take them out for a closer inspection and your eyes widen at the bottle of lube and a box of condoms. Maybe he bought these before his initial plans got changed.

You shrug, throw them back into the bag and return to the living room with a bowl of chips, cold beer and the grocery bag of personal items. When you walk into the living room, the brothers turn their attention to you, eyeing you like they’re expecting something other than the beer and chips. You look back at them suspiciously as they’re both very laxed and spread out on the couch on each end, leaving a space for you in between. As you walk over and settle in next to them, their gaze follows you.

“Here Will, I think these are yours,” you hand him a beer and his bag of items.

He takes them from you as he smirks.

“Thanks. So,” Will turns his body towards you. “Benny tells me you’re curious about some DP action.”

You almost drop the bowl of chips in your hands. Will is usually very reserved and diplomatic so you’re a bit shocked at how straight forward he is right now. You glare at your best friend who shrugs helplessly.

“I had to tell him what he missed out on.”

You glower your eyes at Benny, but then put two and two together, your focus now bouncing between the two brothers and realize that no one is probably going to watch this fight tonight.

[lilblog-asatreat]

Okay, so I've been tagged by two different people for posts about music, so I'm just gonna do them both here lol

I was tagged by @barry-j-blupjeans to put a playlist on shuffle and share the first 10 songs that come up, and I was tagged by @littlepatchofhell to share ten songs I've been listening to recently. And both challenges ask to tag 10 people lol

Thank you both for the tag!!! :D

(And sorry, it's been like, at least over a week, Ise, I forgot that you tagged me fhakfhflahflahflajflsjdl)

Literally, all I've been listening to for the past over a month now is the Undertale OST, so I picked 21 songs I really liked from the playlist (well, more than 21, but I'm combining some of the songs because they're basically just different parts of the same song fbskfjskahdlsjfkajdls) and shuffled it for the first tag, and then I'm gonna list the rest of the ones I chose for the second one lol

(And I'm not gonna list the artist by each one because they are all Toby Fox lol)

For the shuffled list:

Heartache

Premonition

Waterfall

For the Fans

Undertale

She's Playing Piano

Hopes and Dreams/SAVE the World/His Theme

Bonetrousle

NGAHHH!!/Spear of Justice

Memory

And for the rest (in playlist order):

Home (Music Box)

Sans

Shop

Temmie Village

Metal Crusher

It's Raining Somewhere Else

CORE

Death by Glamour

Fallen Down (Reprise)

But the Earth Refused to Die/Battle Against a True Hero

MEGALOVANIA

Idk if any of you have been tagged yet because I haven't checked to see if my mutuals who have been tagged already did the tag too and who they tagged, so if this is redundant, I'm sorry lol

But I'm tagging: @starry--skies @sierraveree @taniushka12 @idkanameatall @rindomness @honey-beesknees @entguarde @noodyl-blasstal @x-cottage-goblin-x @star-thorns and @rosesandapplause and anyone else who wants to do it :)

You can do one of them, both of them or neither lol Up to you :)

Also, I'm just gonna drop the audio file for Temmie Village in case some of you are curious and haven't heard it yet :) I can't post all of them because tumblr won't let me, but Temmie Village is important to me and a very normal song :) I really think y'all would like it :)

[centrally-unplanned]

I have a particular affection for the ways non-cultural designs & choices can create cultural artifacts. Anyone remember ToHeart2?

An ero visual novel coming in at the tail end of the VN era Tokimeki Memorial ushered in 1994 and Kanon crystalized in 1999, it was released in December of 2004 and was the ‘it’ game of its genre for the next year. It got an anime release in 2005, spin-off games, OVA’s, drama CD’s, the works. It was really big at Comiket in the next year, selling ‘image CDs’ of risque art, promotional manga, and a…car billboard?

ToHeart2 did not last though. Its known among visual novel fans for sure, but it's currently ranked #609th on Visual Novel Database in popularity - totally respectable, but no one is recommending it today as the “oh you gotta play this” game and if you aren’t into visual novels it is not coming up in your day-to-day anime-fandom conversations the way Clannad or Doki Doki Literature Club is. It had its era and the fandom moved on, like almost any other property.

But I bet way more people have encountered it than they know, because something else was released pretty much right after ToHeart2 was, in May of 2005 to be precise:

Oh yeah, this is that kind of essay. Danbooru is the original ‘successor’ to the 2ch-style imageboards that was art-first, non-hierarchical, and easily searchable, making it absolutely perfect for porn. The style quickly swept the competition and for a while Danbooru, and its architecture-clones like Gelbooru, ruled the hentai roost on the internet. If it's the year 2010 and you want some pics of Asuka in a school uniform stepping on you, Danbooru was your very first stop.

How you found those pictures is important here; Danbooru is 99% of the time used via searching for tags. Those who don’t have an account - aka most users - can only search by two tags, so you do the best you can; to take the above prompt you go “soryuu_asuka_langley stepped_on” and bam:

Only 4 results, are you kidding me?? Jesus get it together ero artists, some low hanging fruit here. Let's go with something more popular:

There we go, “red_hair school_uniform”, that is more like it. Okay, so sometimes you want Sailor Pluto + Zettai Ryuoiki or bust and you are gonna get what you are gonna get with those search terms, but other times you are exploring, you wanna see what you will find, any red-head will do, and you get this absolute sea of results. What are your options for navigating it?

Pretty…basic, right? And you can’t easily narrow down your search, you only get two search terms. So you do what comes natural, you look at each page, select out images you like, and hit next. But that is…a lot of pages, you aren’t going to read them all.

A funny thing about UI design is that if a button exists, humans are going to press it. We are just inherently curious, we want to try things. And this UI essentially gives us three buttons: “First”, “Next”, and ….“Last”, in this case Page 43654. So as you are building your stache of auburn-topped white button-ups, you are gonna click Page 1, then Page 2, then Page 3…and at some point your curiosity will get the better of you, and you are gonna click Last

And the posts are organized chronologically by order of submission. You get it now, right?

For large searches, which the two-tag cap encourages users to do, Danbooru’s UI gives you the option of showing you the *latest* posts…and the *first posts ever submitted to Danbooru*. If its 2013 you are not gonna stumble on anything from 2008 without actively looking for it, but there is always a button flashing in your face to show you every post from 2005.

When ToHeart2 was the most popular ero game around.

As you can bet Danbooru on opening day was flooded with ToHeart2 images. It generated so much content applicable to this site concept too - it's a split path harem game! Look at these girls:

You got your big titty red-head, white-haired soft kuudere, your lolis your genki’s, this is the OVA so it isn’t even all of them; option coverage is the point of these games. And it clocks in at, help me out here VNDB…

55 hours are you fucking kidding me?! This is the Anna Karenina of visual novels, this work is someone’s magnum opus, my god. Point is it had a lot of art - and you add in the anime, the Comiket CD’s, the promotionals, the manga, the doujin, its a lot. Wait, I don’t have to guess:

Its 6.2k images worth of ecchi art as of today. Every single ‘basic category’ search term people would commonly use had some ToHeart2 character in it, stored at the back of the history log. Far beyond its popularity as a visual novel, due to the inherent UI design of the site, anime fans got all the ToHeart2 porn they could handle just organically. And as time went on the ‘gap’ in between today and 2005 grew, cementing this little cultural artifact in place. Obviously other works from 2005 got similarly cemented, ToHeart2 is just the most prominent one to me.

I love how some of them have their context just buried in there too, like this one I pulled from the site:

This is the cover of a Comiket 70 doujin collection - actually a mix of characters, not ToHeart2-specific - by doujin group Spread-Pink, a talented group; something the median non-Japanese searcher saving this to their hard drive would have no clue about. Here is a link to the full doujin, it has Haruhi SOS Brigade propaganda, absolutely choice. This is of course a trait inherent to a lot of the older art on the internet - so much of it was taken, often without attribution or with edits, from random professional-adjacent works and repurposed into the context the internet needed it to be. Today the internet of Japan & the West is way more merged, and tracing back an image is way easier, but in the early days it was anarchy, and so early Danbooru is full of that, in comparison to the modern uploads.

And yes I cropped the image here, but it was for sizing purposes I swear, don’t judge me, the full one is in the link!

I do have one more reveal before I wrap this up, however - I have been lying to you. I doctored that Danbooru screenshot up there, because that isn’t how the search in Danbooru looks today. It looks like this:

Yup, the Last Page button is gone. I pulled a screenshot from the Wayback Machine for the edit, I am not sure when it vanished but I think it is sometime around 2015? Now this phenomenon lasted longer than that - at that time Danbooru clone Gelbooru had grown to higher popularity due to ease of use but imported all of Danbooru’s content including its chronology meta-data when it was made in 2007, and it kept the button. Gelbooru grew to such sizes that in the late 2010’s however, if you try to hit Last Page on a large enough search, you get:

Alas, a pagination cut-off (unless you upgrade your account, which is like paying for WinRAR). 

So this isn’t a present cultural artifact, but a past one - a generation of internet users for a decade+ had privileged access to the ToHeart2 Hentai Collection, but in the 2020’s it's gone now, lowered down to equality with every other historical work. Alas ToHeart2, your reign was brief but beautiful, and may we all hope for an elysian future where Danbooru re-implements the Last Page button and your rule is restored.

[scuttling]

Paper Rings

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 10,191 Tags: SFW, Fluff, Literature, Friends to lovers, Everyone thinks they're dating, There was only one bed, Some angst with a happy ending, Confessing love in the rain, TW fire and blood/wound Summary: Some of my favorite tropes rolled into one cute fic inspired by Taylor Swift's Paper Rings. (lyrics and music) Link to A03 or read below! “Good morning, my friendly neighborhood crime fighters,” Penelope says as she enters the briefing room, wearing a dress that is bright bubblegum pink, with fingerless gloves and glasses to match. You, Derek, and Spencer groan your replies, because you just got home from a case last night, with less than seven hours between arriving at your apartment and returning to the office, and that is everyone’s least favorite thing.

You can’t deny that her typical sunny disposition makes you smile a little bit brighter, but you’re still exhausted, and even your usual extra large travel mug of breakfast blend is barely taking the edge off.

That’s probably why, when Aaron enters with trays of steaming espresso drinks from the cafe down the street, and a striped box of donuts, you act like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Oh my god, I love you. Thank you, I love you.” He got an array of basic drinks based on everyone’s usual orders, and you scan for one that has something with latte, but he takes one out and hands it to you, smiling when you take a sip and sigh—okay, he’s smiling with his eyes, but you are well versed in his body language and facial expressions, and he’s practically grinning at getting your order (triple one pump hazelnut extra hot latte) correct.

You are not the only one to notice.

“Get a room, you two; it’s just coffee,” Derek says, taking the white mocha from the tray and drinking half of it in one sip. “Now if you tell me there’s a bear claw in there, I’ll confess my undying love too.”

“I don’t know; I asked for an assortment,” he says, and it’s clear he did, but your cup has your name on it; you cover the ink with your hand and take another grateful sip. “I do know there’s a plain glazed in there, though,” he says a bit lower, just for you, and you smile, give his wrist a squeeze, and dive for it before Jennifer Jareau can get her hands on it.

That’s all the morning meeting consists of—bickering and bantering and caffeine and carb consumption—and when the group disperses, you follow Aaron to his office and sit down in the chair across from his.

“Thanks again for breakfast. You definitely raised the morale of the troops,” you say with a sip of your perfect latte, and he shares the hint of a smile.

“You’re welcome. It helps that you’re all so easy to appease.” He flips open his bag, pulls out a small, worn, paperback book, tosses it toward you. You pick it up, run your hand over the well-loved cover, and hum.

“The Call of the Wild—this made it into the Aaron Hotchner Nightstand Collection?” He arches a brow.

“It’s so overrated that it’s underrated; no one ever actually reads it, they just assume they know what it’s about. It’s a great book, if you’ll give it a chance.”

“Hey, you’ve read all of mine without complaint; of course I’ll give it a chance.” You take the last, sad sip of your latte and stand up, point out the door with your thumb. “Speaking of, mine’s still downstairs on my desk. I’ll be right back.”

Exchanging books started as an offhand comment one night, on a flight home from Georgia, when he’d mentioned that he never buys new books, only cycles through the same ten or twelve he’s been reading since college. He knows what he likes, finds something different in the text each time he reads, and you’d found something so profoundly beautiful about that that you’d asked for the list. You wanted to know more about the books that tug at his emotions enough that he’s read them day in and day out for over twenty years with no boredom in sight.

He’d done you one better, said he’d be happy to lend them to you, if you’d like, and that was an offer you couldn’t refuse. Seeing college-aged Aaron’s notes in the margins of battered paperback novels was a prospect too good to be true.

Of course, you couldn’t accept the gesture without returning one of your own, so you’d offered to share your favorite books with him too, only... you don’t exactly give him your favorite books. You purposefully buy the cheesiest romance novels you can get your hands on, pass them off to him while he hands you poignant, classic novels that have won literary awards and Nobel prizes.

Today’s is called Lord of Scoundrels, complete with a shirtless man on the cover, kissing a woman with dark, flowing hair and a light blue dress; you snicker the whole way to your desk and back up to his office—earning curious glances from the rest of the team—and when you drop it on the desk in front of Aaron, you watch closely for a reaction.

As usual, he doesn’t really give you one, just flips the book over, skims the summary on the back, and nods.

“Sounds interesting,” he says, and your heart does a little flip.

He could easily hand the book back, laugh in your face, refuse to read something so clearly out of his wheelhouse, but he thinks these novels are important to you, and he never fails to read them, offering his favorite parts the same way you do for his.

The world probably doesn’t deserve Aaron Hotchner; you definitely don’t.

“I think you’ll really like it. Sebastian and Jessica start out kind of indifferent toward each other, but the more they interact, the more they find they have in common. It’s very acquaintances to friends to lovers, if you’re into that.” He looks up with an expression you place as uncertainty, even if you’re not quite sure the reason for it. You smile softly. “I should get to work, but thanks for the book. I’ll see you at lunch?”

It’s been so nice lately that you started taking your lunch outside, sitting on a bench beneath a huge, shady oak tree, and Aaron had taken to doing the same; you both quickly realized it was stupid to sit outside together, apart, so you meet up in the bullpen now and walk out side by side, spend the hour talking about your books or the team or Jack or life in general. He shakes the uncertain expression, nods his head.

“Of course. Thank you,” he says with a wave of the book, and you head back downstairs to start your day.

You’ve become mostly accustomed to the feeling, but it still surprises you a little when all that gets you through the day is thinking about your next conversation with Aaron. A week later, you’re on a case in Pittsburgh, and you and Aaron are paired up to room together. That’s nothing unusual—it seems like you’ve been rooming together more often than not lately, which is fine by you; he’s tidy, quiet, always interested in a late night snack, pretty much the perfect roommate—but when he opens the door and you step inside, the single king size bed in the middle of the room takes you by surprise.

“Uh… do you think it’s a mistake? Or maybe they just ran out of doubles?” you suggest; he's kind of frozen in place, and while it’s not ideal, you know it’s not actually going to be a problem. You’ve shared a bed with JJ before, and Spencer, and even though you don’t feel the same way about them as you do about Aaron, you think you can manage a couple nights in close quarters.

“Probably just ran out of doubles,” he agrees after a moment; he doesn’t bring up calling the front desk to ask for another room, so you don’t either, just hang your clothes and head into the bathroom to change into your pajamas and do your nightly routine.

It’s a little awkward at first, and you don’t know why; over the last six months or so, he’s actually become your closest friend on the team, and conversation usually comes easily, but silence settles over the room uncomfortably as you slip between the sheets on your side of the bed.

He goes into the bathroom, does his own nightly routine, then comes out in his pajamas and turns on CNN.

You take out your book, pay no attention to Aaron, but the longer he sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the news ticker on the television screen but not actually watching it, the more you wish he’d just get over himself and come to bed. If he’s trying to wait for you to fall asleep, he’s going to be waiting a while.

“So you were right; I love Buck,” you say as a way to start some conversation, to bring some normalcy to this unusual situation. You hold up the book you’re reading, the one he let you borrow. “His struggle between remaining loyal to his owner and answering the call of the wild—I love dogs, but I never imagined a book about a dog could be so moving.”

He turns back with a soft smile, then switches off the tv and heads over to his side of the bed; he pulls back the comforter, slides between the sheets, meets you toward the middle of the bed.

“I told you you’d like it; what chapter are you on?” He leans over to look, so close it wouldn’t take much to lift a hand and brush it over his hair; it looks unfairly soft, and part of you wants to card your fingers through it, to tug on it and mess it up a little. He probably wouldn’t even mind if you did.

“Chapter 7—I only have a few pages left.” You snuggle more comfortably against your pillow, lean into his shoulder, and move the book so it’s more evenly between you. “Want to finish it with me?”

He does, and you read silently at a similar pace; he reaches up to turn the pages, and you think about how these hands have flipped through this book so many times before, what he might have been thinking, feeling, while reading. It’s a more intimate act than you’ve shared with anyone in a really long time.

When you finish the book, you sigh, let the feeling of reading a really great story envelope you; you turn to face Aaron, and he’s looking at you… and then there’s a knock at the door that startles you both.

He gets up, walks over and checks the peep hole, then opens the door.

“Are you sure?” you hear JJ ask, and he steps back so she can enter the room; when she sees you tucked snugly into the middle of the bed, she shoots you a soft smile and mouths you’re welcome, which makes absolutely no sense without context. You’ll have to bring it up to her later and ask what exactly you’re supposed to be thanking her for.

“So you said the detective called?” Aaron prompts her, and she looks away from you, nods.

“Yes, he wanted me to ask if we could have a few agents meet him at the second crime scene tomorrow instead of the precinct, figured it could save a little time.” Aaron looks confused, like he doesn’t see why this couldn’t have waited until tomorrow, but he ultimately agrees.

“Sure. You, Reid, and Prentiss can head straight there, if that’s what he wants. I’ll let them know in the morning.” JJ nods, and looks over at you, and then back at Aaron, who makes a kind but curious face. “Was there something else?”

“Huh? Oh, no, that’s it. I just didn’t want to forget. I’ll let you guys go—enjoy the rest of your night,” she says with a smile and a wave, and when he closes the door behind her, you both exchange a look.

She’s definitely acting a little weird, but it’s late, so you give her the benefit of the doubt.

You scoot over to your side, put the book on the nightstand and switch off your lamp; Aaron climbs back into bed and switches his off, too, and he turns to face the wall while you lay on your back and stare at the ceiling.

It takes about half an hour, but he falls asleep first; you turn to face him, watching his back, following the rise and fall as he softly breathes in sleep, and the peaceful rhythm lulls you into submission, and you drift off as well.

When you wake up a couple hours later, he is on his stomach with his face pressed into his pillow, and you are draped over his back with your cheek against his t-shirt. It’s soft, and warm, and smells like him, and you glance at the clock and realize it’s too early to do anything but get comfortable and fall back asleep, so that’s exactly what you do.

The next time you wake up, to light creeping in between the curtains, Aaron is no longer in bed, but you’re holding his pillow, still warm beneath your cheek. He doesn’t act weird when you get up and start moving around, just pops out of the bathroom with his toothbrush dangling from his mouth.

“Got you a latte,” he says around it, gesturing to the desk and the pair of paper cups that sit on it, and you grin.

“Seriously, you’re my favorite human,” you answer, and you grab your coffee and lean against the doorframe, sipping and sighing until you’re a little more clear-headed. “Sorry if I crushed you; guess I was restless last night. I usually don’t move around that much.”

He just shrugs, spits out a mouthful of foam into the sink.

“You didn’t crush me. I’m pretty solid, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“I’ve noticed,” you tease, looking at him over the lid as you take another sip. “Now hurry up and quit hogging the bathroom if you want to leave here at a decent hour.” He rinses, zips up his toiletry bag noisily for dramatic effect, and slips past you, rubbing a hand over your unruly bed head as he goes. The day passes quickly, with lots of interviewing witnesses, following dead-end leads, and bad police station coffee. When Aaron calls it and tells everyone to get some dinner, you all split off into smaller groups—Spencer and Derek go for Chinese, JJ and Emily opt for pizza, and you and Aaron end up at a retro diner with burgers and milkshakes and a plate of fries between you to share.

“I think we should be focusing more on the docks,” you say, dipping a fry in ketchup and taking a bite. “Even if that’s not where the bodies end up, it seems to be where the unsub is meeting with the victims. We could stake it out tonight, maybe. If you want.” You never want to step on his toes, because he is the boss, the leader, even if you’re friends too; you try to be careful how you phrase things, especially in front of other people, because you don’t want your comfort to look like disrespect, however unintentional.

“That’s a good idea. You and I can head down there after this; I’ll let the others know to patrol nearby, in case we need backup.”

He dusts off his fingers and pulls out his phone, types out a text, and you look around the restaurant—the place looks like it was ripped right out of the 50s, with a checkered floor and lots of red vinyl, a shiny jukebox in the corner. Out of place is a flatscreen tv behind the counter; during the day, when it’s busier, it might play news or sports, but you two are the only ones here at the moment, so the staff is hanging out beneath it watching a movie. It’s Titanic, you realize, when the iconic ‘Rose floating on a piece of debris’ scene plays, and you snort, take a long drag of your chocolate shake.

“I always hated this part. They could have found a way for him to survive, too. Unnecessary death for the heartache factor,” you say, and Aaron looks up from his phone to the screen, makes a sound of contemplation.

“I always thought it was kind of romantic. When you love someone, you’d do anything for them to be okay, even at your own expense. Even if it’s stupid.” You look over his face, study the features you know like the back of your hand, and you guess you can kind of see that, but you can’t say that, so you just sigh.

“I suppose you think Romeo and Juliet is romantic, too,” you tease, and he looks back at you, rolls his eyes.

“It’s very much of its time; it's a lot harder to suffer a miscommunication like that these days. And there is something to be said for star-crossed lovers—people who shouldn’t be together, for one reason or another, but can’t help but drift close anyway.” You swirl your straw in the metal cup, thinking briefly of how that happens to describe the two of you, and when you look up at him, you think you see a hint of that same thought on his face.

More likely, that’s just wishful thinking.

“I like the sword-fights,” you say to lighten the mood, and he laughs, and you both polish off the rest of your food and then head for the docks.

Two hours in and absolutely nothing has happened, but just when you’re ready to complain, or suggest playing I Spy or something, there’s movement from one of the shipping containers to your right. You nudge Aaron, point to the container, and you both creep closer, trying to make out the situation.

When you’re just around the corner, it’s clearly two men fighting, but you obviously don’t know if this is your unsub, two random guys having it out on the docks, or what, so you mutually agree to wait until you have some kind of sign that this is your guy. When one of them pulls out a hunting knife that looks vaguely similar to your murder weapon—as close as you can tell in the dark, anyway—you raise your guns and identify yourselves as FBI.

The unsub drops the knife, but fists his hands in the other guy’s jacket, manhandles him to the edge of the dock, and shoves him into the water, then jumps as well. You swear, and Aaron takes off his jacket, throws it on the ground, then his phone on top of it, and looks back at you.

“Stay here and call for backup,” he instructs, and then he jumps in too; you call the team from your comms, get a response from Emily, and then toss your phone onto Aaron’s jacket and follow him.

He, of course, went for the victim first, so you look for the unsub, who is not visible above the water. You completely submerge yourself, feeling for more than looking for him, because the water is cloudy on a good day and pitch black at ten o’clock at night; when you pop your head up for air, you see Aaron getting the victim up onto the dock, and the unsub bobbing a bit further out. You swim to him, limbs aching, and he seems to know it’s time to give up.

He’s winded, gasping for breath, so you keep him above the water to your own detriment, dragging him by his wet jacket instead of cuffing him, because you’re not trying to kill the guy or lug his unconscious body back to shore. You just barely keep your own head above water most of the time, coming up for big gulps of air when absolutely necessary.

You finally make it to the dock, and your team has arrived, so Derek pulls him out of the water, makes sure he’s alright, and puts some cuffs on him. Aaron’s hands are on you right after, getting you up on the dock, wrapping a towel around your shoulders.

Despite the warm spring breeze, the water was freezing, and you can feel your teeth chattering. He rubs your arms for warmth, crouches down to look you seriously in the eyes.

“Thought I told you to stay here,” he says with an arched brow, a scowl you can tell is more concerned than angry. You wet your frozen lips and try your best to smile.

“You jump, I jump, Jack.”

He looks at you like you’re an idiot, but fondly, if that’s possible, then hugs you so tightly, guides your face to press against his warm neck. How he’s not teetering on the edge of hypothermia is anyone’s guess.

“Your lips are practically blue. Stupid,” he murmurs, but his mouth dusts over your temple in what is unmistakably a kiss, and when you’re able to feel your lips again, you reciprocate, press them a little harder against his throat while you shiver in his arms.

It doesn’t mean anything except I’m happy we’re both alive. Probably.

That night in bed, he faces the wall, and you stare at the ceiling, but you wake up with your nose against the back of his neck. The way he’s breathing tells you he’s not asleep, and when you wrap your arms around him, he holds them tight. Things don’t change after Pittsburgh, and that’s okay. You are comfortable with the way things are, and you love what you have—lunches under the oak tree, the exchange of books, late night texts when you both can’t sleep, hands brushing when you walk to the parking garage, glances shared across the jet. All those things make it easy not to focus on what you don’t have, what you’re not even sure Aaron would want anyway.

You exchange books again on Friday at lunch: he hands you Beloved by Toni Morrison, a book you already know and adore, and you hand him Ravished by Amanda Quick.

“Dubbed the Beast of Blackthorne Hall for his scarred face and lecherous past, Gideon,” Aaron shoots you a glance—“that’s purely coincidental”—“was strong and fierce and notoriously menacing. Yet Harriet could not find it in her heart to fear him. For in his tawny gaze she sensed a savage pain she longed to soothe... and a searing passion she yearned to answer.”

You hold back a smile.

“It’s a modern retelling of a classic story—Beauty and the Beast,” you add, taking a bite of your sandwich. He looks you over like there’s something he wants to say, but he just tucks it under his arm and steals a piece of melon from your lunch.

“I have Jack this weekend, so I probably won’t get to read much, but it sounds intriguing.”

“Well I hope you like it when you read it. Tell him I said hi; it’s been too long since I saw him. I bet he’s looking more like you every day,” you say, popping a piece of melon into your mouth. He smiles softly.

“A little, but Haley says she sees her father in him, and I have to agree. We may have to wait a few years until he looks like me; he’s too cute for that now.” He doesn’t sound self-deprecating, just fond, but you can’t let a comment like that stand, regardless.

“You’re cute; the difference is that kids are cute all the time. You’re an adult, so sometimes you’re handsome, sometimes you’re cute, sometimes you’re hot… it can be hard to reconcile.” This time, he looks you over with something light and playful in his eyes, and it’s something you want to explore, but the timer on your phone goes off, indicating that lunch is over, so you just exhale softly and pack up your things.

You don’t talk much after that—his Fridays are usually busy with meetings, and he leaves in a hurry to pick up Jack, which is understandable.

Emily, JJ, and Penelope invite you out for drinks and dinner—“because we know Hotch is busy,” Penelope says, which has literally nothing to do with your weekend plans, but you don’t correct them—so you don’t linger either.

You go out for Italian, so you are sleepy and full of wine and pasta by the end of the evening, and you smile at your friends.

“Thanks for inviting me out tonight, guys. I had a really good time.”

“Of course,” Emily says, taking her last sip of Pinot Noir. “We barely see you anymore; it was long overdue.”

“Definitely,” you agree. “I should really try to drag my ass out of bed more often.” You can’t help it, though, that after a long day, your bed and a good book just call your name. You’ve always been introverted in that way. JJ laughs softly, chin in her palm, elbow on the table.

“Honeymoon phase. Give it another couple months and you’ll be past that.” You do have a new memory foam mattress that has made sinking into the pillows and blankets all that more indulgent, but you didn’t think JJ knew about that. And you’ve never heard of a honeymoon phase for a mattress before.

“Eh, I don’t think so. There’s literally nothing more satisfying on this earth.” The three of them exchange an amused look, but your phone vibrates, and that catches your attention; you smile when it’s Aaron, sending you a photo of Jack with a toothy grin and his hands covered in fingerpaint. You look up to the sound of chairs scraping against the floor.

“Alright, we’ve lost her. See you all Monday,” Emily says, pulling you in for a hug; when she steps back, she smiles. “And tell Hotch we said hi.”

“I will,” you promise as you hug the other two. You hang back a moment, type out a reply—Looks like you’re having lots of fun without me!—and get into your car to head home.

You change into comfy clothes, drink a glass of water, and climb into bed with Beloved, and at around 9:30 you receive a reply.

Having the most fun we can without you. Maybe next time Jack is over, we can tempt you with dinosaur chicken nuggets and fingerpaint?

You smile, the happiest you’ve been all night—and that’s saying something, because you really did have a great time—and send back, It’s a date. Come Monday, you’re feeling pretty good, well-rested and relaxed from probably too much time in bed, but Aaron looks upset when he walks into the morning meeting. He keeps it short and sweet, and everyone disperses quickly, giving you sympathetic looks as you hang back to try to have a word with him. He clears off the white board, tidies up the table that doesn’t need tidying, and you place a hand on his back, gentle and comforting. He sighs, and you can feel the tension leave him almost instantly.

“Hey. What’s bothering you?” you ask softly, leaning around to try to catch his expression; he looks tired, sad, and maybe a little conflicted, leans into your touch.

“Taking Jack back to Haley’s was rough last night; it always is, but yesterday was really bad.” You know a little about this from weekends past, how Jack always cries when Aaron has to leave, how he feels terrible about it for the rest of the evening, but it must have been extreme for him to still be so upset. “And Haley…” He sighs again, runs his hand through his hair. “It’s like it’s one step forward, two steps back with her sometimes.”

“Why don’t we go sit in your office and you can tell me more?” You want to continue discussing this—that’s what friends are for, and he’s clearly in a bad state emotionally, you think it could help—but he just shakes his head.

“No, I… it’s okay. I don’t want to weigh you down with my problems.” You take your hand off his back, lean a hip against the table and look up at him.

“I’m not just your friend when it’s all easy breezy, lunch in the sunshine, talking about our favorite books,” you say with a sad smile; he reciprocates a little, which is more than you expected. “I’m here when things are complicated, when you have bad days, too. The Monday blues especially.” One of his hands rests on the table, and you cover it with yours, lean in to press your forehead to his shoulder. “Let me be here, okay? Even if all you need me to do is listen.”

It takes a moment, and his eyes are wet when he finally responds; he inhales deeply, nods, and brushes his free hand over your head in something of a hug, murmurs a rough, “okay.”

You sit in his office for an hour—which, again, is more than you expected—listening to him talk about his weekend with Jack, how heartbreaking it was to take him back to Haley’s, how he tried talking to her about taking him more often and she just wasn’t sure she could trust him to do what he says he’ll do. He understands where she’s coming from, knows he’s been unable to keep his word in the past, thinks he doesn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt; he hasn’t asked for advice, seems to just want to vent, so you just listen.

“Then I mentioned you, that you might come for dinner next time he’s over, and she was worried about that,” he says, exasperated, and you frown.

“Why would she worry about that? I’ve been around him lots of times.” It doesn't make sense, because Haley has always been nothing but sweet to you; Aaron looks up at your question, and it seems a little like maybe he hadn’t meant to say that part, though you can’t imagine why.

“It’s just different now… because he’s older,” he says after a brief moment of hesitation. “She doesn’t want him getting attached to someone who might not always be around, you know.” You sigh softly, because if that’s all it is…

You lean forward, take his hand, squeeze it tight.

“I’m always going to be around, Aaron. I can talk to her, if you want, tell her that.”

“No, it’s—you don’t have to do that.” He squeezes your hand back, closes his eyes for a beat. “Just hearing you say it, it makes things easier. I’ll talk to her again next time.”

You talk a little more, and he seems a lot better afterward, even if he is a bit less expressive during lunch; you figure any progress is good, but it makes you sad to see him so down, so naturally, you formulate a plan to help get him back to the Aaron you know and love.

At the end of the day, when he makes his way to the bullpen, you spin around in your chair, take him by the sleeve.

“You’re coming home with me tonight,” you say in no uncertain tone of voice. “For a few hours. I’ll bring you back for your car.” He agrees with a fond look, and you lose yourself in the expression for a moment, then stand up, grab your things, and walk with him out to the garage.

Rush hour traffic is what it is, and you leave Aaron in charge of the music, which means you get The Beatles and The Who, Rolling Stones and Neil Diamond, and you’re both singing along and so much happier by the time you pull into the parking lot of the bodega nearest your apartment.

“Just running in for provisions—be right back,” you say with a grin, and when you return with two paper bags of loot, he looks at you like you might be his favorite person in the world with an age in the double digits. It’s a look you love putting on his face.

“Do I get to see what provisions you’ve acquired?” he asks, teasing, but you shake your head and tell him he’ll see it when you get there.

With a pit stop in your apartment to grab a blanket and a few throw pillows, you take him up to the roof and get things ready for your makeshift picnic. There is white wine, still mostly chilled; cubed cheese, far from gourmet but no less delicious; crusty french bread that was fresh this morning but at this hour is a little extra crusty; blueberries, because they didn’t have grapes; dark chocolate, because you share a fondness for it; and paper cups for the wine.

Aaron takes a look at your bounty, spread over the blanket, and smiles the first real smile you’ve seen all day.

“Fancy,” he teases, and he takes off his jacket, gets on the ground with you. You pour each of you some wine, pop a blueberry in your mouth.

“No, but I thought a meal—and I do call it that loosely—under the stars might do you some good.” You lift your paper cup and tap it against his, brush your fingers over his hand. “To the best boss, best dad, best friend I could ask for.” You take a sip, but he doesn’t at first, watches you with something simmering behind his eyes.

“Do I get to make a toast?” he asks after a few beats, and you smile, nod, and hold up your cup. “To the only person stupid enough to jump into a freezing cold river after me. To the only person I would consider eating a bodega dinner with. To the only person who sees me the way you do.” You both take a sip, which is hard to swallow around the lump in your throat. He looks into your eyes, then breaks the dark chocolate into slivers and hands you a piece like he didn’t just say the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to you before.

You eat, and talk, and drink, and when you’re done with dinner you put everything back in the bags and lay back on the blanket, side by side, and stare up at the stars. The moon is high and full, shining while the stars twinkle around it, and you can’t think of a single time you’ve ever felt more at peace.

“This was really perfect,” Aaron says, almost a whisper, after about twenty minutes of companionable silence. “I can’t thank you enough for being there for me today.” You turn to face him, hands curled up under your chin, and he turns toward you as well. He’s so handsome in the moonlight your heart almost aches.

“You don’t have to thank me. I just wanted to see you happy.” You feel your eyes well up with tears, because he deserves to be happy; you sigh, blink them away, and he leans in and presses his lips to your forehead, rests them there for a long time. When he eventually pulls back, you bring a hand to his hair, brush it back at his temple, and then the creaking of the door makes you pull back, sit up.

It’s your neighbor from 422, who you’ve seen on the roof a handful of times, sneaking away from his wife to smoke a cigarette. He squints in the dark, recognizes you, and waves.

“Hey, 418! You’re not alone tonight.” Aaron sits up too, and you laugh softly.

“Nope, but we were just leaving. The roof is all yours.” Aaron stands, pulls you up, and you grab the blanket and pillows while he grabs the bags, and the two of you head back down to your place.

It’s after ten when you get the groceries put away, and you stand next to Aaron in your small kitchen, contemplating what you want to say next. Your mouth betrays your brain, says what you’ve been thinking but weren’t quite sure how to approach.

“It’s late; I know I said I’d take you back to your car, but you could stay here if you want. I have a spare toothbrush, and I know you have a spare suit at the office, and it’s not like it’s the first time we’ve shared a bed before.”

You’d completely understand if he’d rather go home—you hate when your plans are changed at the last minute, and you prefer to do your full nightly routine for your sanity’s sake—but he only nods, and you lead your way to the bedroom, show him the master bath.

You are in your pajamas, tucked into bed, when he comes out in his boxers and undershirt; he hangs up his suit in your closet where you’d left him some space, then climbs in beside you. He looks over at you, then past you, at your nightstand, which has a stack of books on it—none of them romance novels. You grin, busted after months of book exchanges, and he leans over you to look at the titles.

“Persuasion, To Kill A Mockingbird, One Hundred Years of Solitude—Beloved.” He looks from your copy of the novel to his, which you hold in your hands, and you shrug sheepishly.

“I like reading the notes you put in the margins,” you say meekly, hoping he’s not angry, but all he does is laugh.

“Let me guess: you don’t actually like romance novels.” He leans back against your pillow, and so do you, resting the book on your lap.

“I mean, I don’t not like them… but I’ve been buying those just for you.” The smile on his face is brilliant, and only makes you yearn for him more; things you have been purposefully not feeling are flooding your heart and mind and body now, with him so close, laughing over this stupid secret you’ve been hiding for so long. “And you, sweet man that you are, have been reading them, and discussing them.” You put your hand on his shoulder, and he ducks his head to laugh again.

“Since we’re being honest… I didn’t read all of them. I tried,” he says when you act offended, shoving the shoulder you’re resting against, “but some of them were so bad. I just flipped through, found something I thought could pass as my favorite part, and hoped to hell you didn't ask too many questions.”

You both laugh until you’re breathless—he is so different from how he was this morning it makes you want to cry—and when your laughter dies down you look at each other, sharing breath, two heads on one pillow; is it any wonder you bridge the distance, pull him close for a warm, gentle kiss?

When you break the kiss, you are instantly worried about what Aaron will do—you aren’t drunk, aren’t even tipsy, so you know he can’t be, so much bigger and more solid than you, but will he think it’s a mistake? He kissed back, you’re pretty sure, but maybe that was an accident, something done on autopilot—

He leans in for a second kiss, mouth deceptively soft, and you curl your arm around his back, press into it with lips desperate not to let this end now that it’s started. When you separate, you are both looking into each other’s eyes again, breathing a bit heavily, and you meet in the middle for a third kiss, the best kiss you’ve ever had in your life.

That kiss ends when you yawn in his face, and he chuckles softly, leans over and switches off your bedside lamp; you smile at the ceiling, and he wraps his arms around you, presses his lips to your shoulder, and tells you good night. The next day, the two of you arrive at work early so he can shower and change into his fresh clothes without anyone on the team noticing—not that you think they would really care, but they’re nosy, and a little annoying, so you both agree that’s probably for the best.

You don’t talk about the kisses, even though they’ve been the only thing running through your mind since they happened; you promise to discuss it at lunch, though, and that’s such a sweet, romantic prospect that you think you prefer it better that way anyway.

Only, you don’t ever get to lunch, because there’s an urgent case in Minneapolis, an all hands on deck situation, meaning even Penelope joins you on the jet. You debrief on the flight, hunker down in the conference room, and split up to cover more ground; you barely get to speak to Aaron the whole time you’re there except to be given instructions and to fill him on what, if anything, you’ve learned.

You don’t even make it to your hotel that night, working around the clock to catch the people responsible for terrorizing the city. It takes not one, but almost two full days, and when you board the jet on Wednesday evening, everyone is dead on their feet. You barely remember the flight or the trip home, and you fall onto your bed fully clothed and crash just like that.

Thursday is your birthday, which you almost forgot, and so you assumed everyone else would too. You should have known better, because even if your team can be annoying, they are still your friends, and they love you, so you are well and truly spoiled.

You are treated to a latte and bagels from Emily, purple cupcakes with silver sprinkles from Penelope, a piggy back ride from Derek, a book of poetry you’ve had your eye on from Spencer, and a card from JJ—really, it turns out, from all of them.

“Enjoy a romantic getaway on us?” There’s some kind of certificate in the card, and when you flip it over, you discover that it’s for a hotel and spa that offers couples massages, mud baths, intimate aromatherapy? You arch a brow. “Uh, thanks, guys. Are you trying to tell me something here?” JJ’s face falls a little and she points to the card.

“It’s a romantic getaway. For you and Hotch? Since things have been so hectic lately,” she says, but your ears are kind of ringing and your brain is stuck on the for you and Hotch part.

“Oh. Um. Sorry—it’s just kind of soon, I think? How do you guys even know about that?” you murmur. The two of you haven’t had time to discuss Monday yet, and you haven’t spoken a word to anyone; you wouldn’t have guessed Aaron would have either, but there is a gift certificate for a romantic getaway in your hands, and you’re kind of spiraling.

“Well come on, we haven’t exactly been pretending we don’t know,” Emily says, and you can feel the confusion in your features when you look up at her. “And you guys haven’t been exactly secretive. We’re happy for you, though.”

“I mean, we haven’t been secretive, but we haven’t really had a chance to talk about it yet. It’s only been three days.” You are met with looks similar to the one on your own face.

“What do you mean, three days?” Spencer asks with a frown. “You and Hotch have been dating for almost two months. Right?” he says, looking at the others, and they nod, but it’s tentative. Your first reaction is to flush, and you close the card, fan your face with it.

“You guys think… You guys thought…” You look at them, then up at Aaron’s office; there’s no way he can know that you’re having a moment, but he chooses then to come downstairs, coincidentally. He’s smiling at first, but it falls when he looks at your face.

“Hey. Is everything okay?” He presses a cool hand to your hot cheek, flicks his eyes over yours, and JJ makes a noise; when you glance over at her, she’s gesturing between the two of you.

“I’m sorry, we were wrong? What were we supposed to think?” Aaron frowns, not following, and you take a deep breath.

“They got me a gift certificate for my birthday. To a spa. For you and I to have a romantic getaway, because they were under the assumption we’ve been dating… for two months.” The way he pulls back quickly makes your stomach ache a little, but you say nothing. You should have known.

“You say I love you,” Derek begins like he’s listing evidence. “You have lunch together every day. You’re always smiling at each other.”

“Seriously, some of the softest, gooiest smiles I’ve ever seen,” Penelope adds.

“You eat together on cases, you’re texting all the time when you’re not together.”

“I’ve been pairing the two of you up in hotels since I first figured out you were dating,” JJ says, and the whole ‘you’re welcome’ thing suddenly makes some sense. “I booked you that room with just the one bed so you’d maybe feel more comfortable about us knowing, so you’d see that we don’t mind.”

“You’re always looking at each other, always touching,” Spencer says. “In Pittsburgh—that was the first time you really hugged or kissed each other in front of us. We were trying to pretend it wasn’t a big deal, but it was kind of a big deal.”

You look over at Aaron, try to gauge his reaction, but for the first time in a long time you can’t tell what he’s feeling. You can’t really tell what you’re feeling, either. Sadness. Worry. Loss? But what have you lost?

“We’re friends,” you say, even if it sounds weak to your own ears. “We’re… close.”

“We wouldn’t exactly make sense as a couple, would we?” Aaron asks rhetorically, and your heart clenches when he says that. He told you this morning that he’d made dinner plans for you, both for your birthday and to discuss the kisses, what they mean, where you go from here, but that doesn’t sound very promising anymore. “We’re just—”

“Star-crossed,” you say, but you feel like your eyes are vacant. You can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You’re stupid for kissing him, for letting yourself think he could feel the same way you feel, have felt for a while. Isn’t friendship enough? Don’t you already have this special bond so unlike what you have with anyone else in your life? Why press your luck? You know better than that. “We should get back to work.”

You don’t look at Aaron, so you don’t know whether or not he looks at you. JJ does, and you can tell she knows you’re upset, but she just nudges everyone on their way, and you take a seat at your desk—it’s covered in balloons and streamers, the Penelope special.

You’ve never felt less like celebrating.

At lunchtime, Aaron stops at your desk, and the two of you walk out to the bench, open your bags in silence. You’re almost halfway through the hour before he tries to speak.

“Uh. I. About earlier,” he finally gets out, looking down at his sandwich, and you shake your head even though he’s not watching you.

“It’s fine. We don’t have to.” You take a bite of your salad even though you don’t taste it. “You’re right, it doesn’t make sense. You are who you are,” smart, sweet, handsome, tender, caring, “and I am who I am.” Too quiet, too young, too impulsive, too silly, too emotional. He nods, looks at your face for the first time in a while, swallows.

“Right.” You’re due to exchange books back—his is on your lap, yours is on his—and he picks them both up. “I’m like this,” he says, holding up Beloved. “Faded cover, dog-eared pages, scribbles in the margins: middle-aged, divorced, a little broken, barely holding it together for the kid I don’t get to spend enough time with. You’re like this,” he says, holding up Ravished. “Fresh and glossy and shiny and new, with your whole life ahead of you, the whole world ahead of you. You could do anything, with anyone.”

You frown, because this is not what you meant, at all. How could he think that about himself, when the well-loved cover and the dog-eared pages and the scribbles in the margins are all the best parts of him?

“Aaron,” you say, but it sounds like pleading; you reach out to put your hands on his arms, but he pulls them back. His eyes are rimmed red, lips pressed together to hold back everything he’s not saying.

“I think lunch is almost over.” He packs up his things, leaves you with tears in your eyes and a wilted salad and a brand new romance novel you’re never going to read.

Later, he cancels dinner, says something came up, and you go home to your empty bed and watch Titanic and bawl your eyes out when Rose tells Jack she’ll never let go. Friday, you get another case. Weekend cases are no one’s favorite, but especially not yours, when you desperately needed that buffer of time away from Aaron to sort out your feelings and get back to some sense of normalcy. Instead, you’re flying to a small town outside of Nashville to catch a serial arsonist, and when you get to your hotel, you and Aaron are sharing a room.

At least there are two beds, this time.

You go with Emily and Spencer to a crime scene, walking around a house that was once picture perfect and is now all charred wood and ash, and you quickly tell yourself to get a grip and not look for metaphors for your own life while trying to solve a case. What kind of investigator are you? Pathetic, apparently.

You work until evening, and when it’s time to break for dinner, you buy a sad looking assortment of items from the police station vending machine and eat in the conference room by yourself.

It’s a good thing you do, because they get a call about the fire while everyone is still away, and you and a few locals are the first on the scene.

It doesn’t start out bad, mostly located in the back of the house, but you know how quickly these things can spread, and the fire department is working hard to put it out. One of the officers is talking to the family, and the mother is crying, so you come closer to figure out why.

“She said the daughter was supposed to be staying at a friend’s, but sometimes she changes her mind at the last minute and comes home. She can’t get ahold of her,” the officer says, and you nod, thinking.

“Where would she be? The front or the back?”

“Her room is in the front, second floor; if she’s here, that’s where she’d be,” the mother says, wiping her eyes with a tissue, and you tell the officer to stay with them, that you’ll take care of it. You talk to the firefighters—this town is so small there are only two that were able to respond, and they’re both busy trying to put out the fire, but they clear you to go in if you stick to the front of the building and get out of there as fast as you can.

Your team isn’t here yet either, too far out for comms to be effective, and you can’t get ahold of Aaron, so you make a judgement call and head inside.

The front of the house is so eerily normal it’s almost easy to calm your nerves and pretend the back isn’t in the process of being destroyed. You open the front door, run up the staircase, and call out for the girl; she answers, not from the front of the house, but the back—a bathroom maybe? Flames lick up the wall beside it, but you can get to the knob, and she comes rushing out, into your arms, terrified. You weren't expecting that, and you both fall back: your head hits off the floor, but she seems okay, so you tell her to run out the front door and find her mom.

You press a hand to the back of your head, and it comes back tacky with blood. There’s ringing in your ears for a couple of minutes, and then your favorite voice in the world comes through.

“Where are you? We’re here, where are you?” You’re getting hotter, and when you crane your neck up, you can see why: the fire is getting closer, creeping toward the staircase, creeping toward you. You inhale, cough, and press your walkie button.

“I’m upstairs in the hall; hit my head. It’s not safe.”

“I’m coming for you.” You groan. Stubborn man.

“It’s not safe, Aaron.” You hear the crackle of static, hope maybe he heard your warning and will wait until more firefighters arrive—but knowing him the way you do, that’s just wishful thinking. His voice rings out again, and despite the pain, you can’t help but smile.

“You jump, I jump, Jack. Just stay put; I’ll be right there.” You close your eyes, drift in and out of consciousness; when you see him, all you can think is how ridiculously in love with him you are, and that you really hope you’ll be around to tell him. You are, of course, fine. Your head is the worst of it, even the smoke inhalation was mild, and the fire didn’t touch you, so there are no burns. Aaron doesn’t leave your side the entire time you’re being checked over, looks serious and concerned, though he smiles when the mother comes over and squeezes you so tightly you wince a little. It starts to rain, making the firefighters' jobs a little easier, and it feels oddly cleansing, after the day you’ve had. Someone offers you an umbrella, but you decline.

The fire is successfully put out, and the half of your team that didn’t respond to the scene responded to a call for suspicious activity, which ends up being your unsub. You are all happy no one was killed this time, and since you’re staying the night again, the group decides to grab a drink to celebrate. You don’t have a concussion, but your head still aches, so you pass, and Aaron passes with you.

You head to the hotel, park in the lot, but you don’t even make it halfway across before you stop, a hand on his arm.

“I need to say something,” you tell him, and he looks up at the dark sky like, right here? Right now?, even though you’re both already drenched. You nod, because if you don’t do this now you might never—almost dying always gives you an unhealthy amount of confidence, which you attribute to equal amounts of adrenaline and stupidity. “When we first met, I didn’t think we’d have a lot in common. We’re both quiet, but in wildly different ways, and I’m quick to trust and let people in while your guard is almost never down.”

He looks a little sad at that, and you realize you’re kind of doing what he did, putting the two of you into completely different categories, emphasizing the ways you don’t belong together. But that’s dumb, so you don’t give him time to focus on that for long.

“But being your friend, Aaron—the more time I spent with you, the more I came to feel like no one has ever understood me the way you do. No one has ever seen me the way you do.” Rain is pouring down all around you, beating against the pavement, flattening your hair against your head, but you don’t care. Regardless of his reaction, this is actually kind of perfect. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with you—that was an accident, I admit. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You step closer to him, put your hands on his waist; he doesn’t pull away. “I don’t need shiny, glossy things; you're the one I want—faded cover, dog-eared pages, notes in the margins. I love you exactly as you are.”

He is gorgeous in the rain, water in his hair, dripping off his nose. His expression looks hopeful, and you pray to god that’s not wishful thinking.

“Say something, anything,” you beg, anticipation killing you, and he presses his hands to your cheeks and pulls you close for a deep, passionate, soulful kiss that says it all.

The words are nice to hear, though.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you either,” he breathes against your lips when the kiss breaks. “I told myself it was just a crush, because someone so young and beautiful was paying so much attention to me, treating me like more than just the guy giving orders. But the more time I spent with you, the more undeniable it became. You are everything good about the world—bright, optimistic, caring, funny, sweet. How could anyone not fall in love with you?”

You swallow hard, lean up to press your lips against his again.

“When you said we wouldn’t make sense as a couple…” He shakes his head.

“That was just me chickening out. After we kissed, I was all but ready to ask you to go steady,” he says, and you both smile, because he’s such an old fashioned dork, but god, do you love him. “And then we found out that the team thought we’d been together for months, and you looked freaked out, so I freaked out. I’m sorry. I should have made us talk about it sooner.”

“Classic pointless miscommunication,” you say with a laugh, and he chuckles too, kisses you again.

“Let’s go inside and get dried off; there’s a birthday gift in my bag I’ve been meaning to give you.” He takes your hand, and you head up, duck into the bathroom to change into dry clothes, squeeze the water out of your hair. There is a small, flat, wrapped present on your bed when you emerge, and you smile, sink down to open it.

It’s Romeo and Juliet, a brand new copy, but when you flip through it, there are blue inked notes in the margins. Aaron comes to sit beside you, touches your face like you’re something precious.

“The course of true love never did run smooth,” he murmurs, and you smack him on the arm with the book.

“That’s from A Midsummer Night's Dream, and I know you know that,” you say with a grin. He nods in admission, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, lean in for a warm, loving kiss. When you pull back, it’s with a soft smile. “Give me my sin again?”

“My pleasure,” he whispers, and you sink into his embrace and promise never to let go. The following week, you both leave work at noon on Friday so you can enjoy your romantic getaway. You drive to the spa, and Aaron reads over the brochure on his phone with a tone you find hilarious.

“Mud bath—I’m not bathing in mud. That’s counterintuitive.”

“It’s special mud; more like clay,” you say, but he snorts, scrolls.

“Seaweed wrap—nobody is wrapping me in seaweed. That sounds like a nightmare.” You laugh softly and take your exit.

“It’s supposed to be rejuvenating. JJ recommended it.”

“JJ weighs fifty pounds. It would take all the seaweed in the Atlantic to wrap me,” he says, and you roll your eyes, jab your finger into his ribs.

“But what if I get to unwrap you?” you ask, eyebrows raised; you briefly glance over and he makes a face of contemplation.

“Okay, that’s a maybe. Intimate aromatherapy—what does that even mean?”

“I think it means we do something that makes us smell good and then we go back to our room and kiss and stuff.”

“Now that doesn’t sound half bad,” he murmurs. “Foot massage? I’m not letting a stranger touch my feet, that’s weird.” You look over at him, squinting.

“You literally plugged someone’s bullet wound with your finger yesterday, but someone touching your feet is where you draw the line? Will you do anything on the list?” He scrolls down it, and his extended silence makes you laugh.

“Meditation. Couples massage,” he says, reaching over to rest a hand on your thigh. “There’s a sauna.” You think of him, sweat-drenched in a fluffy white towel, and take a deep, calming breath. “I bet the room is nice; did you bring a book?” You smile indulgently, reach out a hand to brush through his hair.

“Yep. It’s called A Duke’s Wild Kiss…” He gives you a mildly withering look, and you lightly tap the bridge of his nose. “Just kidding. I brought To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf.” His answering smile is brilliant.

“Are you serious?” You nod, and he gestures to the backseat, where your bags are. “That’s what I brought, too.”

You spend too much of your romantic getaway in your room, but it is really nice; you do the couples massage, though, and aromatherapy, and the sauna, and then you take turns giving each other a foot massage while the other reads To the Lighthouse out loud.

The world probably doesn’t deserve Aaron Hotchner; you definitely don’t, but somehow you get to keep him anyway. A/N: Though I snuck in a few parts of a few different lyrics, two lines in particular inspired this fic: 'Now I've read all of the books beside your bed' and 'I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this.' A lot of my fics lately have incorporated books... guess I better get reading!

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner

[imkylotrash]

What Goes Around

Pairing: Hardin Scott x reader

Request: Could I please request an imagine/fic with Hardin Scott x Reader and basically Hardin of course has his bad boy reputation but this intrigues the reader. She is his complete opposite and finds his rudeness quite funny. Hardin is a little too mean to her one time and makes her cry. It doesn’t occur to Hardin that she likes him and by that point he feels like he has lost his chance to get to know her because of his.. ‘wicked’ charm? You can choose the ending. Anonymous

Tagging: @bitchwhytho​ @music-of-melody​​

He’s watching you give your coffee order and it makes you smile. Everywhere you go, you seem to run into each other. At first, you’d just steal glances then go your separate ways but then it turned into “hello”. He made the first move and asked if you should have your coffee together one day. Ever since than you’d made polite conversation when you ran into each other and you had to admit that something intrigued you about the tattooed boy who refused to care about anyone other than himself. You couldn’t exactly relate to his perspective on life but you wanted to know more, to understand the boy who considered the world a cruel place rather than an opportunity to happy days. 

“This seat taken?” you ask standing with a hot cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other. The “Red Queen” series have become something of an obsession for you after finishing the first book. You never thought you’d stray from the classics but lately, YA books had been catching your eye. 

“I see you’re still on the third book,” he smiles and in the same moment letting you know how he feels about YA books. You don’t take it too hard considering he’s not even willing to admit his love for books for anyone other than you. 

“I’m taking my time and enjoying the words.” You have a tendency to get too invested and rush through a book to get to the ending meaning you miss a lot of the little Easter eggs along the way. You’re trying to change that. 

“Hey, no judgement from me.” He’s lying but it’s a cute lie so you’ll allow it. Once you’ve finished your coffee, you stand up grabbing your things. You have exactly ten minutes before your class start but you like to get there early in case you need to do some last-minute preparations. Hardin remains seated and you remain neutral in regards to his lack of motivation when it comes to college. 

I’ll be going classes now. Want to come?” Okay, maybe not that neutral. He shakes his head smiling and you know what that means. It takes three days before you run into him again. This time at the library where you reach for the same book which sounds completely absurd and something that would only happen in one of your books. It’s a cute moment though. 

“I guess great minds think alike,” you say and he scoffs.

“Please. You wish you were as clever as me.” He offers you the book about to sit down when he spots some of his friends outside. You know he’s been a little vague about who you are considering just how different you are to them and frankly, you don’t mind. Hardin is an interesting character because there’s more to him than just the casual alcoholic teen while the people he surrounds himself with at those frat parties really don’t have much else going on for them. You went one time and you’d never been more bored in your life. 

“I should go,” he says Within minutes he’s out the door walking in the direction away from his “friends”. After that you don’t spot him for a while or maybe he’s avoiding you to avoid the questions his friends will inevitable have. Either way, you find yourself missing his sarcastic comments. You hadn’t realised just how much of an impression he’d made on you until he wasn’t around. But he comes back to you eventually. 

“Hey,” he says when he spots you at the coffee house. 

“I thought you’d moved city,” you tease pushing out the chair across from you with your foot. He sits down sliding a book across the table. 

“As an apology,” he grins. You turn the book over to see the cover and you can’t help but smile. 

“You remembered.” One of the first conversations between you and Hardin had been about ecocriticism and a book called “The Road” that you’d borrowed from the library more times than you could count. You’d discussed the topic in class where your professor had recommended this book and now Hardin had gotten it for you. 

“You wouldn’t shut up about the book for at least five hours. How could I not?” He shrugs it off like it’s no big deal but it still means a lot to you. Now you could read the book whenever you felt like it. And he’d gotten the original cover rather than the movie cover. It would’ve been the perfect gift if his friends hadn’t shown up and ruined everything. You see the change in him the second they enter the coffee house. 

“Hardin, who’s this?” Jace asks with hungry eyes making you feel incredibly uncomfortable. 

“Just a friend,” Hardin offers not wanting to give any information to these people. 

“Sure, friend. Do you feel the same way, honey?” Jace asks making the rest of the guys snicker. Before you have a chance to answer, Hardin opens his mouth and ruins everything. 

“Yes, friend. I mean look at her. Not exactly my type, is it? I mean, could it get anymore vanilla?” This earns him a high five from one of the guys but it cracks your heart. You’ve never thought much about your close or the way you looked because you thought the inside counted a hell of a lot more than the outside. But hearing that the idea of being with you seemed so ludicrous hurt more than you liked to admit. 

“I should get going.” You don’t look at Hardin when you leave and you don’t bring the book with you. If this is how he thinks of you then you don’t want anything from him. And it’s not even the fact that he considers you a friend. If that’s all it was, you’d be fine. It’s how easy it was for him to degrade you that really hurt. You tell yourself you won’t cry but it’s a lost battle as you head home. Unfortunately, you don’t reach home before he catches up to you.

“Leave me alone, Hardin,” you say picking up the pace. You’re determined to reach your apartment without stopping but of course, you can’t help yourself when it’s Hardin.

“Are you mad at me?” 

“Mad at you? Of course, I’m mad at you!” you yell not caring who hears you at this point.

“You of all people should realise what it’s like to be judged on the way you look. I like the way I look and I absolutely refuse to let you make me feel bad about it!” You don’t care if he said it because of his friends or not, it’s the fact that it came to him so easily. That means he’s thought it before regardless of the situation at the coffee house. 

“It was a joke!” he yells back opting for defensive rather than just apologise. You’re not doing this. You turn around and this time he doesn’t follow you. It’s weeks before you dare return to the coffee house. You don’t want to meet him again. Instead you dive head first into the universe of Jane Austen thinking he could’ve been your Mr. Darcy with his sour attitude and soft spot for you but it didn’t turn out that way. But your need for good coffee eventually win over your fear of seeing him again. The plan is in, order, pay and leave. It’s just not that simple once you’re inside. 

“You forgot this.” He places “The Road” in front of you as you’re waiting for your coffee. You can’t believe he’s held onto to it since that day. You figured he would’ve just chucked it in the bin. 

“I’m really sorry for what I said. It was rude and thoughtless. You deserve better.” It’s a good apology but you can’t help but think what the insult will be the next time his friends catch you together. 

“You’re right. I deserve better.” You get your coffee and head outside. 

“Throw me a bone here. I said I was sorry.” Of course, Hardin follows you outside refusing to let this go. 

“Hardin, you’re only sorry because I called you out on it. You don’t actually care that it hurt me.” He’s not the first guy who thought he could walk all over you and he won’t be the last but you refuse to accept that treatment. You deserve a lot better than that. 

“I’m sorry because it hurt you. I didn’t think you’d read so much into it,” he defends himself making it clear to you that it’s a pointless discussion. He’s not going to understand why what he said was hurtful despite his own appearance and the comments he’s received. 

“How could I not? I’m sitting there thinking we might have a shot and then you pull the rug out from under me. I’m not playing these games with you.” 

“What?” You don’t bother repeating yourself instead using this moment of shock to hurry away. You manage to avoid him for another week before he corners you on campus. 

“You can’t just throw something like that out in the world and then leave. It’s been going round and round in my head.” He has a hand on each side of you leaning against the wall. It’s effective for keeping you in place and distracting you from why you’re actually upset with him. 

“I never thought you’d like me like that. Shit, I would’ve done things very differently if I ever thought I had a chance.” This time you’re the one in shock. You didn’t think he’d put so much thought into what you said last time. 

“What would you have done differently?” Despite vowing to yourself that you’re done with Hardin, you find yourself curious once again. This bad boy persona with a loving man hidden inside seems like an impossible paradox.

“I would’ve kept you well clear of those idiots from the frat house. Bought you flowers maybe. Taken you to dinner. Bought you a hell of lot more books.” You don’t want to forgive him but it’s hard to think when he’s this close to you. 

“I can start now if you’d like.” He places a hand on your cheek and his touch gives you chills. You inhale sharply telling yourself not to give into him but your body has already thrown in the white towel. He leans down stopping inches from your lips. 

“I really am sorry. It won’t happen again.” Instead of answering, you lean up closing the gap between you. It’s the first kiss but definitely not the last. 

[ren-therose]

You Are Like Me (Pt. 1 of "Winter's End)

Roommate!Bucky X F!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky begin rooming together after Sam discovers your background and suggests you live with him. . As another failed HYDRA experiment with an enhanced skill set, Sam decides that you, the newest recruit who shares a similar path with the Winter Soldier would benefit from living together.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Cursing, semi-spoilers for FATWS (but nothing plot related, just set during that time).

A/N: This started out as a one-shot for our man Bucky Barnes, but now there will be multiple pieces with this as the wonderful starting piece to the story. I don't know how much the parts will be reliant on a plot, but it will all be based on the same love story throughout. The parts don't necessarily need to be read all together and in order. There will be a variety with this couple, varying from angst to smut, fluffy fluffy FLUFFY shit, and some very depressing stuff too. I hope that these different pieces fulfill all your Bucky needs and help you feel like you really have a developed and copasetic relationship with this lovely gentleman.

"Jesus, who the hell are you?"

I had been laying on a neatly made bed in the apartment Sam had signed me up for. I was staring at the ceiling mindlessly as an old record player spun, emitting the scratchy tones of classic 1940s music. In my hand was a small journal, opened to a blank page towards the middle of the book. My eyes shot open, my hand grabbing a knife from the back of my pants as I launched myself off the bed and towards the unfamiliar man in the doorway.

Before the knife could reach his throat, cool metal met my wrist, stopping my arm in its track. I was practically on top of the dark man in front of me, staring up into his bright cerulean orbs. He seemed almost amused by this first introduction. Almost. The glimmer of humor left his eyes as soon as my knee made contact with his groin, causing him to keel over, as I maneuvered around him to be behind, using his arms hold on me to choke himself.

"I could ask you the same question, blue eyes," I said with a snort. I realized quickly he wasn't an enemy, but the continued power struggle was fun enough to let it play out. Before I could plan my next move though, I was flipped over his broad shoulders, and square on my back, the impact knocking the wind out of me. I looked up through my lashes, trying to focus my eyesight as the splitting headache blurred my vision. Standing above me, the man let out a soft chuckle as he stepped over me, making his way over to the bed and sitting on the edge. I slowly lifted my head, still dizzy from the landing, as his eyes followed the outline of my body.

I was still in my training clothes, too tired to have changed out of the tight tank top and cargo pants. I had been perfecting my combat technique so that I could fend for myself, but it seems I was not yet ready to fight whoever the stranger in my room was.

"Here," he started, getting up from his place and reaching his right hand out to me. I stared at it for a moment, not sure if I should give in or not, though I could tell I would have to. I placed my hand in his, surprised by the contrasting warmth I felt compared to the hand he had caught my wrist in. He quickly pulled me up, causing me to launch into his chest, my left arm quickly wrapping around his bicep to steady myself.

"You can feel me up later doll, but can you explain what the hell you are doing in my room?" He taunted.

I realized that his colder hand was on the small of my back and I leaned back into grasp as I sneered "I could say the same for you..." I noticed the outline of dog tags imprinted underneath his shirt, glancing back up into his eyes with a wink, "Sarge".

He let go, allowing me the chance to step back and start searching for my knife. I could feel his eyes on me, questions waiting to be asked.

"You are Seragnet Barnes, correct?" I mused, grabbing my weapon from the corner and twirling it in my hand before replacing it in its holster. The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile at my maneuver, but quickly looked down and cleared his throat before replying.

"Yes ma'am. And I apologize for not knowing your name, as well as for throwing you," he grunted. It was suddenly a very formal manner in which he spoke. My eyebrow quirked up, as I spun on my heels and made my way into the kitchen, hearing heavy footsteps follow in time.

"Y/N".

"And what are you doing in my room, Y/N?" he said inquisitively. I was now the freezer for an ice pack, finding a floppy blue one in the back.

"I guess, I'm your roommate," I shrugged, putting the ice pack to the back of my head as I moved towards the bathroom.

"Wait, Sam told me I was meeting someone named "Y/L/N", they were gonna stay here for a bit," he retorted, once again following behind.

"That is my last name Blue Eyes. Need an ID or something?" I called over my shoulder, turning the corner to enter the bathroom, reaching towards the medicine cabinet.

"That still doesn't explain why you were on my bed," he scoffed, leaning against the door frame as I scavenged through the drawers.

"I didn't think anyone was living here. I was told I'd have a roommate, but I didn't think anyone had moved in yet. You have, like, no shit here. It looks like a hotel room," I critique, standing up with a shake of the bottle in my hand.

"I'm using your Ibuprofen" I say with mock respect. I move past him as I saunter back towards the kitchen. He can't help but laugh at this bizarre encounter and that I am truly not making this easy for him.

"You have a lot of sass for someone who just had their ass beat," he jeers, leaning forward on the counter between us.

All I could do was smile and shake my head, throwing the pills into my mouth and taking a swig of water.

"So, Y/L/N, why do you figure we Sam is rooming us together?"

"Love match?" I joke, placing the now empty cup in the sink and walking over to his side, leaning my back against the countertop.

He snorts, amused by my sarcasm once more. "Maybe, but I have a feeling it goes deeper," he says, turning to rest his side on the counter as he looks me over, clearly searching for something.

"You aren't gonna find any metal attached to me, Barnes," I report, turning to brace myself against the counter. "They messed me up in here." I gesture to forehead, softly tapping to get my point across.

His face falls as he realizes what I mean.

"HYDRA..." was all he could make out.

"They weren't just trying to make soldiers. They were trying to make spies. Hyper intelligent ones that can be manipulated without the risk of losing control or access, like a computer could. I am their failed experiment," I say softly. I chuck the ice pack into the sink, and make my way over to the window, rubbing at the back of my head.

"You have super soldier serum. I have an acute memory and the ability to calculate probable outcomes and human error. I remember..." I turn back to look him in the eye, "everything".

His mouth slightly gapes as he looks me over. "I was a lethal weapon when placed in sensitive situations. If I knew the possible endings of different scenarios, I could pick which one could happen."

He steps towards me, as if he was considering whether to comfort me. Before he could though, I straightened up and tried to scurry past him.

"I am so sorry for invading your space, I'll take my stuff out of your room. I can stay on the couch until-" The Winter Soldier cut me off, grabbing my arm before I could make it into the room.

"No, take the bed, please," he began. "I don't sleep in it anyways. Too comfy."

My eyes go from the grip on my arm up to his eyes, staring down at me, but with concern. I softened my face, providing a half smile as I nodded my head.

"Okay, Sarge. Let's eat though- I'm starving. You order the pizza while I take a shower. Then we can talk."

He let me go, looking down into my eyes, "I think I know your favorite kind."

I raised a brow at this bet, curious to see if he was right. "Alright...we will see..."

I turned and made my way towards the bathroom, looking back to see him still watching.

---

Shit, I don't have my clothes.

I was dripping from the shower still and my hair was very haphazardly put in a bun to keep the water from dripping. I quietly opened the door and peeked my head out, searching for my new roommate. When I had determined the coast was clear, I scurried into the room, shutting the door behind me quietly. When I turned around, I shrieked to see James exiting my closet, a few shirts in hand.

"What the fuck Barnes!!" I choke, desperately clutching my towel, as I had almost lost my grip. He dropped the shirts to the ground, slapping his hand over his eyes in case I did lose my covering.

"Damn, Y/L/N, let me buy you dinner first!" He laughs, trying to make his way to the door.

"Oh you are SO paying for the pizza now Barnes," I fume, adjusting my towel and making my way to the other side of the bed where my bag was.

"So you're saying I can look?"

"You just scared me, I'm decent you prick". I kneeled down beside the bed, opening my bag to see that all of my clothes were missing.

"Are you. fucking. SHITTING ME?" I curse, banging my already sore head onto the side of the bed.

"What did I do this time," the soldier groans.

"No, it's not you, it's just that...well shit. My clothes are missing."

"Oh yeah. I threw them in the wash for you. You weren't carrying a lot, and it's a force of habit from the old days, I thought they would be done by now but-"

"Sergeant?" I interrupt, seething with rage and a tinge of embarrassment.

"Y/L/N?"

"I don't have any clothes," I hiss.

"oh." he says shortly. I press my face into the bed, trying not to scream bloody murder. Suddenly, I feel two soft things land on me, causing me to turn my face to the side.

"Sweats and a shirt. Don't do anything weird," he quipped, leaving me in the room alone.

I look down at the black sweats and navy blue shirt. It was soft, and smelled of fabric softener and pine. I looked up at the empty hallway as I heard the front door open and shut behind him as he went to get the pizza.

I slipped on the clothes and looked myself over in the mirror. I decided to let my hair down to air dry, and the rest of me looked swallowed in his clothes. His sweats were pulled tightly around my hips, exposing my stomach when I stood. The shirt would probably be form fitting on him, but it just barely gave me a shape, though my chest clung to the fabric. I didn't know what this meant, but whatever it was felt nice.

---

"I got the pizza, and Sam already confirmed I was right about it being your favorite so..." James trailed off as he saw me standing in the kitchen, leaning over a brochure of sorts. I looked up to see him holding pizza in one hand and soda in the other as his eyes widened at my get up.

"No snappy remark, blue eyes? Wow, they just keep getting wide-" he cut me off by throwing the box down in front of me.

"Movie?" he muttered, quickly making his way past towards the living room.

"uh...okay. Can we watch 'Casablanca'?"

He turned around, looking at me with confusion.

"You know that movie? That was made almost 80 years ago."

"I'm a sucker for the classics, James," I say, grabbing the pizza and soda of the counter and bringing it to the coffee table.

"Bucky, please. We're gonna be living together and already saw you half-naked," he chides, sitting down on the couch and flipping it on with the remote.

"Okay, Bucky, do you remember the plot?" I probe, sitting myself next to him as I placed two glasses in front of us. I pulled my legs up to cross and adjusted the waist of my pants to sit above my stomach more comfortably. He was leaning back into the sofa, as I was turned to face him, waiting patiently for a response.

"I mean, I remember looking back on it and how terribly it depicted the war. It was not easy to find love abroad," he stated, reaching to grab a slice of pizza.

"Were you looking for love?"

"I was looking for fun. I was pretty sure I was gonna die, or at least not make it back. I was kind of right," he finished, biting into the slice.

"Yeah, not a lot of love in present day HYDRA safe-houses either. Not that I had time for it between missions, I say, leaning over to pour the drinks.

"Well what were you before...them?"

"A history student, if you can believe it. Wanted to study abroad and learn about wars, apply it to algorithms to prevent them. Seems like the common denominator was always men," I reply with a wink.

"I can't say you are wrong. But I am impressed. And now..."

"Now, I'm protected by the Avengers, er- what's left of them, and am able to use my skills for good. All of that history knowledge, everything I have ever learned and forgotten about, I can remember it all". I looked him up and down. "I didn't recognize you without the long hair and this stubble thing kinda threw me off, it's not the same as the pictures in the museum".

He adjusted his angle to better face me, curiosity etched across his features. "You really are something," he contended. The comment caused me to pull back, shocked by his honesty.

"I...uh..." I stammer, unsure of how to proceed.

"If you're going to say thank you, don't bother. It's just a fact," he noted, once more causing me to fall to silence.

He started looking up the movie, struggling with the technology of the remote.

As I studied him, the tension in his jaw, the stress he carries in his eyes, I realized I shared similar features.

"ты как я," I whisper under my breath, unsure if he even heard me.

You are like me.

I knew when he straightened up, and slowly looked in my direction.

"я знаю," he replied.

I know.

I reached my hand out to his arm, resting it on gently.

"What does this mean?" I asked softly.

"I'm not quite sure."

------

The next morning, I awoke to the smell of deep roast coffee.

Bucky and I had spent almost the entire night talking. We skimmed around the dark parts of our past, knowing that there would be time for that, but instead got to know the things that really shaped who we are today.

He really enjoyed his time in Wakanda. It was incredibly healing for him, and allowed him a chance to find piece, something we ex-soldiers and spies rarely could get. He told me about his life in the 40s, or what he could remember. A lot of his memories has been formed with the help of Steve, which I knew caused him pain. But he also found happiness in retelling those stories, knowing that someone else will see him as more than the Winter Soldier.

I shared my experience abroad. I had been all across the USA, in Canada, both Iceland and Greenland, Poland, France, Italy, Turkey, London, and of course Sokovia. It was were I had been taken during my travels. I had never told anyone about this before, but I had felt so comforted knowing that he had been through something so similar.

I don't know when, but at some point in the night, I had ended up falling asleep propped up on the couch. When I woke up in my bed the next morning, I realized it must have been him. I looked down to see I was still wearing his shirt, and smiled to myself. When I got up, I found his sweats on the floor, knowing I probably kicked them off when I got into bed. I stepped back into them, pulling them up around my legs and tying them once more on my hips. I looked in the mirror, my hair limp and flat from sleep. Checking my phone, I walked out, scratching my head and rubbing my face, yawning as the coffee smell grew stronger.

"доброе утро," he greets me, smirking at the confused face I made.

"No Russian. Too early. Try again later," I mumbled, jumping up to sit on the counter. He held up the sugar, shaking it in my face.

"Two to three teaspoons please," I groan, pushing the container out of my face.

"Someone likes it sweet," he laughs, dumping in my unhealthy request.

"And creamer, if you have some," I added, smiling as he turned towards the fridge.

"Did you know you speak Russian in your sleep?"

"I bet you do the same. All HYDRA escapees probably," I mutter, taking the mug from his hands.

"Well, you will have to let me know sometime," he chides, taking a sip of his own black coffee.

"Last night was...."

"Traumatizing?"

"Yeah, but maybe healing too?"

"Good," he exclaims, walking over to the couch. He sits down, swiping his phone off the charger next to him.

"Before you have to go, do you want some breakfast?" I offer, scanning his response to my inquiry.

"Is that your power thing? You knew they would ask me to work today?" He questions, looking down at the phone and then back at me.

"It's a skill, not a power. I'm not a superhero," I laugh, getting out the contents for a breakfast sandwich.

"Yes, I would like one. But you already knew that didn't you?"

"No skills required. Tony texted me this morning too. We are training together."

He smiled. He almost looked excited.

"I'm gonna beat your ass again Y/L/N".

"You wish".

-----------------------------------------------------

Every day, we played out the same routine.

I would wake up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee. I'd come out, thank him and proceed to make us breakfast. We would then go to combat training for a few hours. When he wasn't helping me, he was working on his own workout routine; often, he would put aside time to just focus on improving my knife skills. He would always joked that I showed promise after out first encounter, and then would promptly beat my ass in a knife fight.

After training, it would be time to meet Sam for lunch, chat about our personal lives (which were rarely separated from our work), as well as current issues in the Avengers, and the world.

Bucky always stayed close by when we were out and about, glancing over to make sure I was okay. I would signal back that it was okay, smiling as a way of thanks when I noticed him checking. The only time we went our separate ways for our "rehab plans" we called jokingly. He would go see his therapist while I went and saw mine. Then, he would meet Sam for a bit by himself, while I went back to our place and did paperwork. When he came home, we would decide on dinner and a movie, but would probably stay up the whole night talking and leaving the movie with at least 20 minutes to go (on a good night).

One night, after I had "magically" ended up in bed, I woke up to Bucky shaking me, yelling my name.

"Y/N! Y/N, it's me, it's Bucky! Come on Y/N, wake up!"

I was drenched in sweat and my voice felt coarse and raw. My heart was beating at an impossible rate, as I shot up to hold on to him.

"Y/N, it's okay, you're okay," he said, trying to calm me down as he pushed my wet hair off of my face. I was gripping his arms, trying my best to ground myself. My eyes were bloodshot and wet, as tears and sweat mixed down my face. His blue eyes were frantically searching me, making sure that I was okay.

"It was them Bucky, they were here, they were gonna hurt you, I couldn't move, they said the, they said the words Bucky, jesus I was gonna lose you Buck, I couldn't, I can't..." I trailed off, starting to hyperventilate as I buried my face in his chest, allowing him to pull me closer.

He held me against him, shushing me as he ran his hand through the back of my hair. His chin rested atop my head as I regained control of my breathing. As my heart rate lowered and the sound of blood rushing through my ears subsided, I heard him say softly:

"I could never leave you Y/N, I can't...you mean to much to me..."

I didn't know if he realized I heard him, but it made me relax into him a little more. We didn't move for I don't know how long, just holding each other, breathing in sync. I could feel myself start to get sleepy, and began to slump more and more into him. He could feel the wait of me on his chest, and softly laid me back into the bed. When I was settled in, he started to scoot backwards towards the edge of the bed, before I grabbed his arm.

"Stay. Please. Stay," I barely whispered.

He looked down at me, tucked under the covers in an oversized t-shirt with my hair a crazy mess around my face. My eyes were glassy and red from crying, but my grip on his arm was sure.

"Please Buck."

I pulled back the covers next to me, signaling the invitation that I meant it.

He was only in a T-Shirt and boxers in himself, but nevertheless, he climbed in anyways. As he slid down, I pulled myself into him, hugging his torso as the scent of his fabric softener filled my nose.

He wrapped his arm under my head and around me, the other to my back, sheltering me from my nightmares as I drifted back to sleep. When I woke up, my head was resting on top of his chest, his hand still in my hair. I could count his steady heartbeats over time, our breathing once more in time together. I glanced up to see his stubbly face, in a serene sleep. I had heard him up late at night, wandering in the living room. I am sure he had nightmares like me, but I was the unlucky one to have the first terror while we were roommates.

I couldn't help but realize that he put a shirt on.

He never wore a shirt to sleep.

I knew this because I had woken up a time or two to go to the bathroom, and he would be there, on the floor, practically shining as the moonlight radiated off of his skin. It was almost impressive.

So he put a shirt on when he came in to help me last night. I guess it is respectful of him. I mean, everything about last night, or at least what I could remember, made me feel safer than I had in a very long time. Bucky always made me feel safe, but now, lying on his chest, it was deeper than two former soldiers-it was intimate.

I couldn't stop myself, I inched slightly up, lifting my head to his face, practically nose to nose. I could feel him exhale as the air left his nose and tickled my face. I leaned down, just off to the right side of his mouth and softly kissed him. I couldn't kiss him on the lips, but I needed to put it out there, even if he was asleep. I laid back down next to him, facing the ceiling as I felt him softly stir next to me. I tried to discreetly roll away, my body turned away from him, screwing my eyes closed.

I could feel the bed shift underneath me as he awoke. I could feel him leaning over me, checking to see that I was "asleep". Then, I felt his lips on my forehead, pressing a gentle kiss to my temple.

"You can't get away with it that easily Y/N"

My eyes slowly opened, as if afraid I would see it was all a dream, and he wouldn't be there. Instead, he was looking down at me, his head cocked to the side with a crooked smile dancing on his lips. Concern was etched on my brow, though my mouth betrayed me in a half smile as I stared back at the blue eyed soldier.

"I uh-I didn't, uh, mean to wake you Bucky, I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me," I stuttered out, worried that I might have made him feel pressured to return the favor.

I was surprised when his arm reached for my waist, pulling me from my side to my back as he rested his hands on either side of me. Trapped underneath him, my train of thought was so far off the rails, my ability to even speak was completely hijacked.

"Y/N, you have no idea how long I had been waiting for you to do something like that," he confessed. I quivered underneath him, my only response to his words. He was now hovering above my torso, propped up on his forearms as he continued to ramble.

"I never wanted to pressure or impose anything against you. I thought that you felt it too, and I wanted to be a gentleman, but with last night and you wanting me to stay, and now this morning..., I just wanted to make sure that I am reading the signals right an-"

He was cut off by my hand on the back of his neck, pulling him up to my face where our noses connected once more. His eyes were piercing, searching mine frantically before I closed them and pulled him down. Our lips attached to one another, fitting together softly, one on top of the other. His arm slid underneath my back and pressed me into him as my arm wrapped around his neck, my other hand holding his face. I could feel the metal against my waist, but it was warmer than usual, probably due to being under the covers all night. After years of torture and pain for the both of us, this kiss made terrors of that night worth it. It brought him and I together.

As we pulled away, our lips still stuck to the others until there was enough distance to truly focus our eyesight on the other. Pupils dilated, chests rising and falling against each other, our status shifted from roommates to something more in seconds. Maybe we were always something more and we hadn't realized it until now. But none of the what ifs mattered now. Now, there was a certainty that Bucky and I had a future together.

-------

A/N: This made me cry. A lot. The angst, the coping skills, the little sparks of chemistry. I just love writing about this man. He is everything a girl could ask for. I will start writing a part two tomorrow and I can promise you, it is about to be a lot cuter, a lot smuttier, and a lot more BUCKKKYYYY.

Taglist: @n3ssm0nique @arctic-duchess @bluemoon-icecream

[gisachi]

Hi ^^ I know that your requests are now closed but I was thinking that, given you have written jealous Shinichi, I would very much enjoy some jealous Ran! Maybe you can mix it with one of the prompts? Just throwing the idea out there, no pressure. Delete this if you don't feel like it, it's okay really. Thank you for writing these amazing fics, the shinran fandom is in your debt. ❤️

So this is the last (!!!) and longest (!!!) of the kiss prompts, and I dedicate it to multiple-requests Anon and to this Anon. I hope both of you still see this. It took me a while. ^^;;

P.S. Special thanks to @artycreaty for keeping this in check. You are awesome. 🥰

41. Kisses shared under an umbrella. 46. A lingering kiss before a long trip apart. (6,489 words)

.

.

.

Ran keeps telling herself she has no right to be jealous.

She has hundreds of reasons not to. They’re merely childhood best friends. Life would be much easier if she didn’t involve herself in his business twenty-four seven. Shinichi absolutely doesn’t look at her that way. And so forth.

She wonders why they’re even friends in the first place. If their parents hadn’t enrolled them in the same kindergarten, she was certain they wouldn’t even be on speaking terms. He lives in a world of grisly books and crimes, she in a world of martial and visual arts. Their hobbies don’t overlap. They excel in different fields. They enter the same university with completely unrelated majors. The only bond they have in common is their shared history. Literally bonded since they were four, until now at nineteen.

So when she sees him all jolly around his newfound circle who hold the same interest in Holmes or detective work, it shouldn’t surprise her as much. It’s part of university life, it’s normal, they expand their horizons, and Ran understands that it hits much differently when they bond with people who like the same stuff they do. Something she’s aware they cannot share a hundred percent.

She’s proud of him, and she absolutely has no right to feel jealous, especially when she sees him around taller, prettier, more interesting women from his course block. There is no reason for her to look away with a heavy weight in her chest everytime the women get giggly and touchy while he’s absorbed in narrating his stories.

Everytime she does, she reminds herself of how he didn’t seem to mind when she was casted as the protagonist of their high school play and the leading man was the handsome Araide-sensei. Or how he simply shrugged when she fawned over the brother of a classmate because he looked so much like the karate senpai she was crushing on. Or when she secretly caught Sonoko dragging the detective behind gym after P.E. to confront him about his opinion regarding an upperclassman courting Ran and his only response was, ‘She can like whoever she likes, Sonoko. I’m not her boyfriend.’

He never showed her any sign of jealousy, therefore he must not be into her. Simple as that. So it’s unfair for her to be treating him differently. Getting snarky just because he received sixteen new fan mails again, more now that they’re in uni, and two even coming from the popular criminology seniors he is often teased to? Or ignoring him unprecedentedly just because his eyes followed the back of a woman with long chestnut hair and voluptuous curves? There are plenty of fish in the sea, and he’s bound to be attracted to someone else. This is a pill she ought to learn to swallow eventually.

Eventually.

“Shinichi-kun, you never told us about your scariest case yet, tell us about it?”

Kaori closes her notes and so do the other two girls across her, and Shinichi’s eyes twinkle. He truly seems to enjoy study sessions with the little group they made consisting of some of his and Ran’s coursemates because they love listening to his stories.

“At the top of my head is this murderer disguised as a bandaged man, and he targeted us one by one…” and so the detective drones. Ran pauses typing and reminisces quietly. Ah, that one from summer three years ago. I was almost injured by that crazy man during my sleep but Shinichi woke me up in time.

“Ran-san,” Shun, her friend and coursemate, mutters beside her, also stopping his typing to listen to the detective’s story. “It’s ridiculous how popular Kudou-kun is with the girls. He’s full of wild adventures.”

“Yes, he is,” Ran says, smiling. “He’s been a girl magnet ever since high school.”

She watches as Kaori inches closer to Shinichi, listening attentively, chin on her palm and flirtatious smile on her lips as the detective rants on and on.

For the third time that afternoon, Ran looks away.

.

.

Ran keeps telling herself she has no right to be jealous.

She does, everyday, but it’s hard when he smiles at her, cares for her, holds her in a way she’s never seen him do for anyone else. It gives her hope every time the girls cling to him but he never touches them back, whereas he automatically slings his arm over her shoulder because she’s afraid or cold or he simply feels like it.

Then again, maybe she’s giving herself too much credit. Perhaps it’s a free pass for being around him for too long. She even gets to spend time with him during weekends and holidays. It isn’t special because it’s normal.

And that’s all she’ll ever be, a normal girl in his eyes.

“Ran? She’s pretty special.”

Ran reacts to the mention of her name and catches Shinichi looking at her. “She appears quiet but she can kick anyone’s ass without breaking a sweat. It’s bad if you cross her,” Shinichi gloats with a grin.

“Oh my god, really? We can bring her with us then!” Kaori claps her hands in excitement.

“Ah... But she won’t like that,” he follows up, wary. Ran has missed the topic they were talking about and now she’s curious.

“But ghosts aren’t real and Mouri-san can give them a good beating!”

“Gh-Ghosts?” The color in her cheeks drains, eyes freezing at Shinichi who has probably already expected that reaction, for he sports that same look of concern as those times he had expressed whenever she joined him in his way-past-bedtime elementary school adventures.

“We’ll investigate an abandoned house I always pass by walking home,” Kaori explains. “Last night I saw a faint cigarette light at the second floor window. It might be a fugitive or a homeless person or a ghost, who knows?”

“You don’t need to come if you don’t want to, Ran,” Shinichi assures.

Gulping, Ran contemplates whether going with them will do her any good. It’s a nice change, it’s been a while since she last tagged with Shinichi in his cases. But she isn’t exactly proud of shrieking like a little kid in front of serious criminology majors who may feel like she’ll drag their covert investigation down if she joins.

“...I’ll pass,” she answers meekly, and his coursemates sulk except Shinichi, who offers her a smile of understanding.

“Man, I thought we’ll be able to see Mouri-san in action!”

“That’s ok, maybe next time. We still have Shinichi-kun!”

“Shinichi-kun will protect us, ne?”

“Hah. Right. Invite Hakuba too, use him.”

“Oh c’mooon, Shinichi-kun!”

Ran closes her eyes, struggling to zone their voices out.

In her silence, Ran ponders if she has made a wrong choice.

.

.

Ran has no right to be jealous. So it’s unfair for her to be treating him this way.

The following weekend, Shinichi narrates what happened in their late-night investigation. Hakuba wasn’t there so Shinichi was the only available guy as usual. Ran refuses to hear any more details, both of the haunted house and secretly of the girls chancing onto him during the investigation. Shinichi is puzzled.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Nah, just swamped with work.”

“On a Sunday?”

“Yes.”

“Want me to assist?”

“No.”

Her replies are curt from the couch of his house, not looking at Shinichi on the other end as she mindlessly cleans up her digital sketches. She hates how snappy she sounds but her brain is too absorbed with conjuring spiteful imaginations to even think of masking her annoyance.

“Ran, hey. Look at me.”

His low voice freezes her from drawing, and she slowly looks up to meet Shinichi’s serious eyes.

When this happens, she knows he’s reading her. She inwardly chants a prayer because now isn’t a good time. Whatever time isn’t a good time. She doesn’t know what to say when she’s aware everything she’s been feeling is irrational and unfair. She’s being selfish.

“You’re… stressed.”

“No, I’m… Eh?”

He scoots closer, an arm’s length away. “Your dark circles are more prominent now, you need a break.” His eyes turn a soft blue. “Let’s have dinner out? My treat.”

Ran is surprised, to say the least. The last time he invited her out was two weeks ago. She’s become so used to seeing him around others that any initiative from him sounds too good to be true.

“But I need to finish this project by tonight.”

“Let’s have food delivery then!” Shinichi announces, not rattled by Ran’s indirect refusal. “I know exactly what you want. Ramen and shaved ice.”

Her eyes thin at the absurdly goofy expression she knows he makes when he’s being mischievous. “Clearly you’re ordering that ramen for yourself. I only like shaved ice.”

“Damn! Miss Detective gets it.” A mile-wide grin stretches across his face, earning an eye roll from the half-smiling woman. “Let’s eat together on your short break, please?”

He leans within a respectful distance and she sees his smile better, pair of kind eyes locking with her overworked ones. “It’s been a while.”

Her heart throbs for him. So much.

She caves - of course she does - and breathes her acquiescence.

After two long weeks, they have dinner together, just them and Shinichi’s ramen and Ran’s donburi and shaved ice, Shinichi taking a spoonful of dessert from the cup when she isn’t looking and Ran snatching a slurp from his take-out bowl and laughing when he catches her.

With how heartfelt his laughter is in her presence devoid of any mysteries, Ran knows she’s probably giving herself too much credit, but for once she wants to believe she is the cause of why Shinichi’s happy.

Just for that night, she gives it to herself.

She’ll change the dark colors of her digital artwork to brighter ones after they eat.

.

.

Despite everything, Ran finds it difficult to contain her recurring jealousy.

The more she shares precious time with him, the more it gets harder to suppress the selfish emotions. What is so unsatisfying about being the best friend is that she is only the best friend. No more no less. At the end of the day, she isn’t the one he gets to cuddle with, to tease then kiss, to tell ‘I love you’ to, romantically.

“I love you.”

Ran feels her heart about to leap out of her chest.

“But please. Stop. Tearing. The. Cushions!”

The little furball he has scooped underneath a throw pillow wiggle from his grasp. The kitten and detective engage in a brief staring showdown before it jumps away to hide under a farther couch.

Snapping out of reverie, Ran watches her childhood friend slink dejectedly onto the partly scratched furniture. He’s fortunate enough that his mother isn’t around to give him a long lecture on Why Pets Aren’t Allowed in the House 101. She can always take Yukiko-san’s role and reprimand him for it, but as for this and the cat, she finds herself not wanting to intervene.

“Kaori-san sure is taking her time with her parent’s permission. By the time she does, Momo would’ve shredded all the pillows in this house.”

“You named the cat?” Ran asks, amused.

“She did.” He thinks for a moment, then sniggers. “Actually I did. I suggested a random name. She took it.”

Ran merely hums. What can she say? They’re getting close. Close enough to team up as parents to an adopted kitten.

“I’m surprised you also agreed to keep Momo when you never took in animals before.”

“Kaori said she’ll treat me to the latest Detective Samonji movie this weekend if I do. Can’t resist that.”

“Just you two?”

“Yeah.”

A beat. Then he turns to her.

“Wanna join? I can ask her to count you in since you’re kinda helpi—”

“N-no need,” Ran quips, “It’s—It’s fine.”

“No really,” Shinichi insists, “Kaori-san has a lot of money, she—”

“I’m going to Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum with Shun-san this weekend... so... I can’t.”

“Ah.”

Silence.

“It’s, um, for a project,” she bolsters.

“I know.” The faintest smile graces his lips. “It’s your thing. Both of you.”

“Mm.”

He doesn’t say anything else after that.

“Shinichi, you’re a detective, right?” she blurts out of the blue.

“Yeah...and?”

Then deduce what I feel. Here and now.

“Then you’re going to enjoy that movie!” Ran forces a beam, giving Shinichi a thumb of approval. “And you can discuss it with Kaori-san over dinner. I’m sure you two have a lot to say about it.”

Shinichi’s eyes linger on her, reading her like a book, and Ran has her mind reeling again, afraid to be read.

“Yeah, we do,” he finally says, ending the conversation.

Only a few words are uttered the rest of the afternoon.

Momo resurfaces and curls beside Shinichi.

Momo’s purring is loud, but Ran’s shattering heart is louder.

.

.

Ran must not feel jealous. She is not a girlfriend.

Because she isn’t a girlfriend, he’s free to fall for and date anyone else. Who is she to gatekeep him? There are plenty of fish in the sea, and he’s one big catch. Ran believes she’s a big catch, too. With the way she loves dearly, her future boyfriend is going to be very lucky.

Her future boyfriend is not going to be him.

“...mber the required fieldwork in one of my majors I told you? We actually go by batches. The first batch did theirs last month. The second batch was last week… and I— Ran, are you listening?”

“Ah! Yes,” Ran notices they have already reached her station and are now walking two blocks to her apartment. “Your fieldwork, right?”

“...Yeah,” he carries on. “I’m in the last batch... This whole winter break.”

“I see, I understand.” She smiles, getting what he means. No Christmas or New Year’s Eve together. The first time since they’re four. It’s fine, honestly. If it’s a required activity, then there’s really no way to go about it. She isn’t going to lash out just because she can’t be with him in her most favorite time of the year.

“And Hattori-kun and Hakuba-kun will be with you?”

“Hattori did his last month. Hakuba is in the previous batch. I’ll be stuck with the girls.”

Ran’s heart momentarily squeezes. “Where will your fieldwork be?”

“In Akita.”

Her pupils constrict. “That far?”

“Yes... so to cut on expenses, Kaori-san offered her house for me and the others to stay while we’re there—”

Kaori. Again with the tall, beautiful, intelligent Kaori. She bets it’s amazing to spend the holidays doing what he loves and with Kaori beside her, snuggling with him by the fireplace in a romantic snowy night and she might even confess, and it’ll be a great catch for Shinichi, and he’ll return with a girlfriend, and—

“Kaori-san is lucky.” The words flow out of her mouth, unbridled.

Shinichi looks at her. “Lucky?”

Ran remains quiet and keeps walking. It’s dangerous to say anything. She only has one thing in her mind and she doesn’t want to say it out loud. She has no right.

“Ran, hey.”

She doesn’t stop walking.

“Ran.”

She ignores his call.

“Ran… you’re jealous.”

She stops walking.

“Excuse me?”

“...You’re jealous…” Shinichi repeats quietly.

A contrast to his calm tone, his irises beset hers in the cold twilight and Ran attempts to shield herself but her bag and umbrella are in the way. She thinks of turning away but her feet are frigid like icicles, and Shinichi steps closer.

For the third time, he declares, “You’re jealous.”

Hearing her thoughts echo through his words renders her speechless.

It seems to take a moment before Shinichi’s brow arches, lips curl up as his eyes refuse to stray, and she hears a faint exhale even, like he’s exasperated, and suddenly he’s smiling - or is he smirking? sneering? - and...and...

It stings, is her immediate reaction.

For the longest time, she’d wanted him to take a hint. But if she had known this was how he’d react, she’d rather live a life having him oblivious of her emotional struggle. Dealing with that is more tolerable than witnessing him gaze her down in blatant mockery. He sneers as though he’s about to crack a joke and move on and forget such a laughable matter. That’s the last form of acknowledgment she wants for her honest feelings.

Heartbreak and shame and pain build up in her chest like a volcano closing eruption. Water begins to cloud her vision. She clenches her fist tight on her umbrella and Shinichi notices, and he takes another step forward.

“Ran…?”

“I am not, and you’re a fool.”

In a span of a breath, she’s sprinting in the opposite direction, tracing the path where they have walked, ignoring the distant yells of her name behind her. She runs and runs, and as she runs farther, with her thoughts muddy and breath short and dry, she wonders if she may have overreacted.

If he’s done that on purpose, screw him. If not, screw her.

After all, they are merely friends and she has no logical reason to act this way.

“Stop... running... will you!”

She hears heavy footsteps close in. It takes all the energy Ran has to prevent herself from turning her body around but his strong grip overpowers her.

“Let me go!”

“Why are you running?!”

“I can’t...deal with you!”

“Why? Was I right?”

“Right or wrong, it doesn’t matter!”

“Why doesn’t it matter?”

“Because I am your best friend!”

On another occasion, she would’ve successfully jilted away and run farther, but Ran is floored when he yanks her into a one-armed hug, so floored she drops her umbrella to the snowy ground.

“Stop saying that!” he hisses in her ear, frustration apparent.

“What are you— Let me go!”

He hugs her tighter.

“If you don’t let go in three seconds, I will screa—”

“I am happy!”

Ran stops struggling, eyes widening in shock.

Icy huffs tickle her neck as he half shouts, “I’m happy you feel that way!”

“You’re...You’re happy because I’m suffering?”

“What? No! I—”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? How?” The hurt in her tone is impeccable, prattling muffled against his chest as she spares him no moment to butt in. “You think I wanted to feel this? That I enjoy griping in helpless jealousy? And you’re rejoicing that I am? How full of yourself can you be?!”

“That’s not...You don’t underst—”

“I do understand! I understand that I am so incredibly stupid for catching this disgusting heap of emotions for an obnoxious, stuck-up deduction maniac that is my best friend and maybe it’s better after all that he never, ever sees me the way I see him!”

“Stop saying that, Ran!”

She thinks he has broken away, but he drags her back with an insistent tug, crashing his lips onto hers as she stumbles into his arms.

All willpower rippling through her disintegrates quickly like snow in high heat.

An impatient pop resonates as he separates, eyes slowly opening, breath thick and ragged.

“I know that is not how we explain things, but does that explain anything?”

She hears it. The madness. But more than madness, yearning bleeds through his voice so much that her frustration turns into physical pain. Blinded by an all-consuming ache, she tips her chin and presses her lips back against his, demanding for cure in the wrong place. Shinichi freezes, then relaxes. He moves his hand to her nape, four fingers in her hair, thumb treading her jaw.

They look like a scene in a movie.

Under his umbrella and hidden from view, they communicate through brushing lips and tilting heads. His mouth closing over hers with gentle force, her hands splaying across his chest, heavy with something that makes his heart pound under them.

She is so lost in the chase and his tender embrace that for a second she forgets she is kissing her best friend.

Best friend.

This doesn’t explain anything. It worsens it.

She pulls back, ending what she has so recklessly started. “N-no, I’m— No.”

She pushes him away, gathers the stuff she drops, and runs without looking back.

“Ran!”

He shouts her name. Twice.

On the third call, his footfalls die down. On the fourth, he stops running.

She doesn’t.

.

.

Thirty minutes before midnight, Ran stands outside his gate, boots buried half foot under the snow as she rings his intercom for the second time, thinking to herself how foolish she must be to cut communications with him for a week and then show up his doorstep looking miserable like a stood-up date.

It’s the start of winter break.

He’ll leave for Akita in ten hours.

She needs to give his Christmas present before his departure.

She’s crazy, pathetic, still frustrated, and hurtfully in love.

“Oi. You better have a good explanation for why you’re buzzing at goddamn midnig—”

“Shinichi.”

His surprised gasp is apparent even through the intercom. A rustle follows and with a croaky voice, he responds. “...Ran.”

Surely he isn’t expecting this. Not after the tantrum she threw days ago. He probably thinks she hates him more than ever. But what she truly feels is more overwhelming than all negative emotions combined, and may god grant her all the strength to address it all, tonight.

“May I come in?”

“The house is—The house is a mess I, um. I’m packing my stuff for...”

“I’ll help you.”

“...”

She’ll understand if he decides to turn her down. But the answer that follows the deafening pause is a low and quiet ‘Okay’.

Despite psyching herself hours before she came, courage wanes when he opens the front door and gate in his pullovers. She is welcomed in, and the trip up his room is wordless. Shinichi only talks when he points out that he’s already packed clothes for two days and will need help for two weeks’ worth. He lamely laughs when he instructs her to pick the tops and layers, and he’ll take care of the pants and underwear.

On a normal instance, she would’ve humored him and they would’ve been talking right after. Now she simply pulls an empty smile and then they fall back into silence.

She supposes he’s trying to act unbothered, to treat what happened a week ago as a one-and-done glitch in their friendship, never to be discussed again. She cannot fault him when she’s trying to do the same. But it’s not easy when in the stillness of the night the echo of their altercation howls, raging persistently in their ears.

What has he been thinking of for the past week?

Has he been kept up all night by the words she said and the words he left unspoken?

Are they still friends? Will they still be friends after this?

The kiss... What about the kiss?

So many questions. So little words. So little time.

Ran is seated on the floor, folding shirts and stuffing them neatly in his duffel bag. Her back faces Shinichi who is sorting out bottoms in his cabinet. She senses him sit on the floor, back against her but not touching. Neither dares to speak first.

A ringing phone cuts the silence.

“Mm, still awake. Good for two weeks right? Gotcha. No, I’ll meet you girls at the station, no need to fetch me. Pfft. I can walk. Ok, see you tomorrow.”

If Ran wasn’t so hyperaware of where she is and what she’s done, her mood would’ve shifted to the one she’d been trying to avoid. Now isn’t the time to think about that. Midnight sneaking out to go to his house is something she wouldn’t do even on good days. She scans her bag on the far couch, deliberately bringing a bigger one to hide his gift. Maybe she can just sneak it in his bag and leave once she’s done and he’ll discover it only when he’s prefectures away. Brown has always suited him, and he’ll definitely find the overcoat useful as spare protective gear.

That’s right. She always cares for him like this. She is his best friend first, and... and nothing second.

“Don’t just leave after putting your present in my bag. At this hour, I can’t let you walk home alone,” he says swiftly.

Ran’s eyes fly wide.

“How did you…”

He doesn’t say anything and continues with his business.

Again with the throat-drying silence.

Something in Ran’s gut compels her to speak, but she is surprised when he does first.

“I... I don’t like Kaori-san. If that’s what you’re thinking.”

Ran stiffens, pausing mid-motion from folding. “I’m not…”

He leans his back completely against her and she shudders, voice reverberating through her skin. “Ran, if you could just hear me out.”

Unable to talk and move, she does.

“Kaori-san and the rest... They know I love mysteries. They know I want to build my own private detective agency. They know my favorite Holmes’ story is The Sign of Four. They know how many crimes I solved in Tokyo. All the information about me which anyone can read from the internet and newspaper and from what I told them when they ask, they know. Ran, you know all that. All that and more.”

He angles his head to the ceiling as if he’s talking to someone there. Ran supports his weight, curling to her knees as she silently listens.

“You know of my first ever deduction because Christ, my first deduction was about you. You know of the two cases which haunt me until this day because I watched the culprit die in front of my very eyes. You were with me the nights I locked myself in here thinking about them. You know of the interesting, the boring, the absurd cases, everything, because I told you or you were there. You know of the odd way I play the violin while I ponder over a case. You know I forget to eat when swamped with new books to read. I have three copies of The Sign of Four but the one I keep beside my bed and read almost weekly is the one you gave me on my tenth birthday and that is all I need. You know me for me, Ran. Everything about me that is off the record, the good and the bad, you know all of those. Only you. The same way I do... about you.”

She feels him crane slightly to the side, addressing her.

“Ran.”

“Mm.”

“I love you.”

Ran’s heart almost completely stops beating.

“I love you,” he whispers, “more than I am even supposed to.”

All words seem to have fizzled out of her vocabulary as she sits still, stunned at what she’s hearing.

“I’m happy growing up with you, studying with you, bickering with you, acting stupid with you, investigating with you, eating with you, napping with you, hugging you, holding you, taking care of you, simply... being with you. Before I know it, it’s not the cases or Holmes or mysteries that complete my days, it’s you.

“For you to keep repeating that ‘best friend’ phrase, I…” He lowers his head.

“For who knows how long, I’ve loved you as that and more.”

Someone pinch her because in no way can this be real.

“I was happy thinking you’re jealous because it meant a sliver of chance you feel the same way. We could’ve remedied the misunderstanding easily, Ran. We could’ve talked it over like we always do. But I was stupid and emotions were high and in the end I… kissed you…” he takes another deep breath, “But—but you kissed me back, and my heart couldn’t stay still...”

Pulse drumming loud, Ran tilts her head on the side where he leans, wanting to see the slightest expression he makes as he continues.

“If my deductions are wrong and you’re mad for a different reason, and—and you returned that for a different reason...” she hears the pang of remorse in his tone, “then please forget I ever said anything and I’ll leave myself to die in humiliation once I’m out of your sight.”

He lays one palm flat on the floor and she notices.

“But if my deductions are right and you were indeed jealous, I...” She feels his head swivel enough to feel his warm breath fan across her cheek, before shifting back front and releasing a slow, guttural exhale he’s kept contained within.

“I’ll wait... until you accept it. Accept me.”

Ran may have choked on her throat for how long she’s held her breath.

In spite of herself, she knows she doesn’t need to think of what to say. She had it all in her head before coming here. Yet expressing it out loud is a different matter.

She isn’t ready, but when will she ever be ready? Shinichi undoubtedly isn’t too. Yet here he is, laying the groundwork for her, no holds barred and a stuttering mess at that. How she plans to build from it is the question she asks herself next.

Inhaling as though bracing herself, she places a hand beside him, pinky slightly grazing his.

“I didn’t... You never showed any signs.”

Careful and calm, he extends his little finger over hers. She doesn’t flinch, and both hands crawl closer until two fingers overlap.

“Either I’m a great pretender or you’re incredibly dense.”

“I’m...I’m not dense.”

“I’m a bad actor, then.” He slides his hand further.

“I was trying so hard to be a supportive best friend for you.”

“I sensed that but ignored it because I didn’t want to assume anything.”

“You did though. Now we’re here.”

“Would you rather we aren’t?”

“I would rather we spend the last weeks of this year talking like normal than being stupid idiots before you leave.”

“It’s just two weeks, Ran.”

“Two special weeks I would’ve wanted to spend with my best frien-... with you.”

Without knowing it, his hand has completely nestled atop hers, four fingers curled between her thumb and index finger.

“Ran... You must really hate the idea of falling in love with me.”

“Eh?”

“You’re so wrapped with the thought that we’re simply best friends that you hold your love in chains as though it isn’t permitted to grow.”

“I… I didn’t want to ruin the only connection we have-”

“Two friends falling in love are still friends… They are also more. You cannot ruin an indefeasible connection. Friendship and love may be the only bond we have, but they’re the most important bond of all.”

Ran falls quiet.

“Geez…”

He releases a thick sigh, brushes his thumb across her splayed fingers.

“I have shit art appreciation skills, but I can take you to museums too... as a friend and as a date.” A beat, and a mumble. “Even to better museums than Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum.”

She darts her head sideways, realizing something.

“Were you also…?”

“No.”

Ran doesn’t suppress the heartfelt giggle that bubbles out.

“Shun-san has a boyfriend, Shinichi.”

“I—” he pauses. “I wasn’t asking.” Ran giggles more.

“Shinichi.”

“Yes.”

“I love you too.”

The hand above squishes hers all too suddenly like he’s been blown away and is needing something to hold onto.

“I came here to give your present and to apologize for being so shallow and for acting without thinking and for a lot of things actually... but now I feel there’s no need, because then I wouldn’t have...” She looks down at their intertwined hands.

Before she can return his squeeze, he recoils.

“Oh, y-you do apologize. Running away like that.” He coughs, and she can practically hear the tripping in his tone.

“Aren’t you already used to it? I’ve done it many times,” she chides.

“No. Apologize,” he insists. “And look at me while you do.”

Ran’s stomach twists, heart kicking up a step.

It’s easy to talk without eye contact, but to be requested so after confessions are exchanged—

“Face me, Ran.”

The familiar voice of yearning strums her heartstrings, tone sounding a lot like a plea than an order and Ran finds her head instinctively craning at an angle, hand coiling on the floor trying to calm her nervous beating heart. She feels him shift behind as well.

She takes all her time to face him, partly unsure what to do, partly knowing exactly what she wants to do. Despite the deliberate slowness of their movements, it is when they lock eyes that time truly seems to stop.

Shinichi appears so different, so soulful. His blue irises glimmering, fixated on nothing but her as she reveres him with matching intensity. The same guy she treats as her best friend looks at her with tender love in his eyes, darting down her lips and up like no best friend ever would.

“I love you,” he says, breathless. “Make me your boyfriend.”

A wave of emotion sweeps over her, heartbeat fluttering in overdrive as they huddle on the floor, bags and clothes and time forgotten.

“From best friend to... such a shift-”

“Nothing will be different.” He rests his forehead on hers, gaze of soft blue patient though more intimate now, knowing what they share is mutual. “We’ll still do what we do... With exclusive romantic commitment and sweet nothings that translate to ‘I love you’ in more ways than one.”

She attempts a jab on his chest but he catches her fist, soft but jesting beam all too apparent and she does but play along.

“What about when we fight?” she asks.

“Same. But...” he slides a thumb over her quiet lips, parting them slightly, “I can do this once we make up.”

“...Like right now?”

“Like right now.”

A genuine smile is the last thing she sees before delicate pair of lips lands on hers, capping their one-week fight and their last night of the year together in the best and most unexpected way imaginable.

.

.

Ran keeps telling herself she shouldn’t be jealous.

Not because they are simply best friends, because they aren’t. Not because life would be easier if she didn’t involve herself in his business twenty-four seven, because it wouldn’t.

Not because Shinichi doesn’t look at her that way, because he does.

She shouldn’t be jealous because she absolutely has no reason to, is all.

“I haven’t forgotten about your present. I was planning to buy yours in Akita.”

“Stop lying, you totally forgot it.”

“I didn’t. Stop that.” Half-mast eyes rake her side profile, and Ran covers a mirthful grin with her mitted hand holding the umbrella, then yawns. Hours of packing and talking and laughing left them with roughly four hours of sleep. It isn’t like she slept the whole period because while sleeping in his room isn’t new, cuddling while they sleep is. Ran couldn’t simply shut her eyes and heart to that.

“I believe though,” he wraps a hand around her free one, pocketing both of them in his brand new overcoat, “I gave half of my present already.”

“Hnn. That doesn’t count as a gift.” Her hand shifted, coddling his own to a warm fit.

“Really?” A smug smirk pulls up his face. “I believe I am a nice present, Ran. That’s why they—”

“Screw this. You are unbelievable. A humbug. Why do people like you.”

“I know. Why do you like me?” Shinichi laughs as he avoids the swing of her umbrella.

From afar, they see Kaori and the girls at the meet-up point outside Tokyo Station, though they seem unaware of their presence yet. Suddenly feeling conscious, Ran feels the urge to disentangle her hand, but Shinichi holds on, firm.

“Why?” He asks in a low voice.

“I dunno… maybe this isn’t the best time…”

“Isn’t now the best time?” His smile is proud and natural, not one ounce of reluctance visible.

Although she gets what he means, that doesn’t free her of shyness and guilt. Somehow she feels like apologizing to Kaori for… she doesn’t know. She just wants to. Letting her see them like this makes her think that she’s giving her an indirect slap on the face. Shinichi certainly won’t agree because ‘What’s with women and their logic?’, but still, whether or not it’s all in her head, Ran needs more time to prepare for this.

But to her surprise, Shinichi lets go of her hand. They are still a few feet from view when he steps in front of her and turns around. “Maah, fine, I get it,” he huffs, then smiles. “Then, just give me your umbrella.”

The moment she does, Shinichi closes their distance and dips his face onto hers. Ran is given no leeway to gasp as loving lips seal her quiet. It isn’t as long as what they shared a week ago, but the emotions are loaded and full, speaking fond thanks and temporary farewell.

She doesn’t realize she has closed her eyes until he separates, and she’s met with the most tender, most angelic expression he wears only on the rarest occasions. He’s saying without telling that her feelings are valid, she doesn’t have to worry,  and he doesn’t have eyes for anyone but her. Somehow, the snow is the sea and fish are swarming around but neither cares because they have already caught each other.

“You don’t have to, silly.” Three layers of pink blanket Ran’s puffy cheeks.

“But I want to.” Grinning, Shinichi hands her back the umbrella. “You don’t like hand-holding. You don’t like being seen. Don’t you think that’s a great compromise?”

“Idiot, many people saw...”

“No, they didn’t!” Upping the duffel bag slung on his shoulder, he steps back and gives her one last goofy beam. “I’ll see you next year, Ran. I’ll call as often as I can.”

Wordlessly, Ran watches Shinichi’s back as he jogs to his waiting companions, who by then have already had their eyes pinned on the approaching figure.

“That is Shinichi-kun! ...And Mouri-san!”

“Ehhh!!?! You’re a thing!”

So much for being subtle, Ran flushes inwardly as she returns the wave the other girls are giving her. At that moment she really does feel immature for her past conduct. All of them are sweet. Even Kaori.

“I knew it Shinichi-kun! Mouri-san is sooo lucky, I’m so jealous!” Ran hears their banter and sees her jab his bicep before acknowledging her. “We’ll take care of him, Mouri-san!”

The Ran from one week ago would’ve had her heart crushed by such declaration, but now she’s nothing but pleased and the smile that forms across her lips is nothing but honest. “Make sure he doesn’t drag your group into a random dead body, Kaori-san!”

“Hey!” surfaces Shinichi’s shout amidst the mincing laughter of the group and the onlooking passers-by, and Ran bids her last wave before they enter the station.

Smiling to herself, Ran returns home, the lingering promise of his kiss committed to memory, knowing that she doesn’t have to get jealous because she has no reason to. Their indefeasible bond is all the assurance she needs.

.

.

.

[voxmortuus]

Silly Crush | Chapter 3 - Dinner Date

Stu Macher x F!Reader

Scream (Movie) FanFic

TW: Language and Fluff, fingering in public so some smut...

Chapter 1 Silly Crush | Chapter 2 Movie Date

GIF created by @netesu

It was like clockwork. He picked you up from the driveway and you slid in. He smirked looking at you and kissed your cheek you two took off.

"So how was your day?" he asked you.

"Oh, it was great... spent the day with my dad, fuckin bastard." You grumble.

"Don't like your pops much?" He asked.

"Try at all. He left me alone while my mother was working, and he had packed all his shit and fuckin left. I was 4, home alone from 9am to about 8pm. Let me tell you, uncooked cake batter isn't good in powder form." You shake your head.

"Damn, cold piece. I'm surprised your mums even lets him come around." he gave you a concerned look.

"She does because that's the only way he'd agree to pay for what I need. He thinks buying me off with money will make it all better. That's not the case. Like ever. I didn't want the money, I never wanted the money. I wanted a father ya know?" You let out a sigh. "But whatever, enough about me. What about you? how was your day?" you ask him with a smile on your face placing your hand on his leg as he drives.

"Spent it with Billy and Sid. Tatum's kinda fallen off the face of the earth... from what I hear she had a psychotic moment on her mother and she was admitted... you should come hang out with us sometime... I'm sure Sid won't care." He added.

It wasn't that Sid would care, you knew she wouldn't, what got you waiting about it was on if she would say anything to Tatum, and then it would blow up on you like it did her mother. Biting your lip you look up at him and nod. "Sure."

"Oh good, because ummm, they're joining us for dinner." your heart sank, you felt sick to your stomach, and you grew nervous. You begin biting at your nail and he looks over at you and reaches for your hand bringing it away from your mouth kissing your hand. "Trust me, babe, it'll be okay. If not, you can punch me in the gut. Deal?" He reassures you.

Nodding your head you let out a heavy breath. "Deal." You begin playing with the hem of your skirt and bite at your lip. When he pulls into a local diner you spot Sid and Billy sitting in a booth with his arm around her shoulders and you look at Stu worried but he smiles takes your hand and drags you inside, almost proud.

Walking in you look at them and Sid smiles. "Oh hey! I haven't seen you in what feels like a long time. You doing good?" She asks you.

You smile and nod. "Yeah, I'm doing good."

Billy nods at you and looks at Stu. "You coming over tomorrow? We have a few things to-- Discuss." He states.

Stu pulls you closer and nods your head. "Yeah, I'll be there, Y/N has to go out of town for a small thing with her mom so yeah, I'll be there." He grins.

"Stu so you're like, serious with Y/N?" Sid asks. Your heart begins to pound.

Stu looks down at you and kisses you in front of the two and you flush, and feel the fluttering in your stomach and hide a bit. "Very." He grins. Offering you to slide in first. You slide in and Stu slides in next to you putting his arm around you as you begin to play with the napkin out of nerves.

"Well, this new Stu suits you, happiness suits you Stu. I'm happy." Sid replies looking at you. "And you, you seem so happy. Truly, own it." She tells you, and you can tell her sincerity when she grabs your hands looking at you. It was this gut feeling. "Don't let anyone take that from you... and I mean anyone." She states.

Looking at her you smile nodding your head. "Thanks Sid."

The waitress comes over and asks what everyone wants, Sid and Billy order, and Stu, he orders for both of you, looking over at him you smile and kiss his cheek and take a sip of the water that was poured.

After a little bit, your dinner comes and he even went as far as ordering you a chocolate milkshake, with a small mental squeal and a bite of your lip your hand reaches to his leg to give him a thanks squeeze on his thigh and dig into your chicken fingers and house-made fries. The boys start talking about some project they're working on but it's so deep in the context that you and Sid zone out mowing down on dinner and shakes.

Meanwhile, while Stu is eating and talking his hand makes its way to your leg and you bite your lip while playing with your fries, you scoot a little closer as his hand moves further up your thigh under the hem of your skirt, you clear your throat and smile looking at Sidney. "So Sid, have you heard from Tatum at all?" You ask her genuinely curious.

Her brows arch a moment, "No, last I heard she flipped shit on her mom and was put up somewhere. I'm sure she'll be back, calm I hope... but word has it her mom is moving with the family and heading out of town." She added. "The change could be good for her anyway." She added as she ate her fry and Stu's fingers started to play with the fabric of your panties.

Biting your lip and scoot a little closer to him as he pops a fry into his mouth talking to Billy about something, you've lost your focus as his fingers maneuver their way rubbing your swollen bud. Your hips naturally spread a bit as he continues to toy with you, feeling as he applies pressure, and makes his way under your panties feeling his fingers toy with your flesh you do all you can to be inconspicuous and casual while inside you are moaning and screaming. you feel like he is testing you, and you are going to do just as you're expected to do.

As he works at your flesh sliding a finger in slightly you take a sip of your drink and close your eyes. "Dinner is really good... this place is fantastic. I can't believe I've never been here." You chuckle.

"This place has been around since my grandparents were kids." Sidney chuckles taking a bite of her burger.

"For a long while." Billy adds.

"Kind of a landmark here." He states looking at you with a shit-eating grin, as his fingers work their wonderful magic. Letting out a breath you cough a bit with a chuckle as he feels how wet you are and takes advantage of that as his fingers work faster, your breathing slightly picks up as you breathe into a napkin pretending that the chicken strip was hot as you finish on his fingers. With a smile and a chuckle to his voice he looks at Billy. "Plans for the night?" He asked him taking his hand you just finished on and taking a fry and eating it licking his fingers clean and smirks.

You flush red while Billy looks at him. "I was thinking maybe going for a joy ride. You?" He asked.

"Maybe the same." He smirked looking at you.

Flushing you grin, "A joy ride sounds great."

—————————————————————————————————If you want to be tagged let me know. This is the first of many stories! I am also taking requests!

@luciferslittleastre @ms-ghostface

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Chapter 9

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

He meets her in the hallway just outside the autopsy bay. She’s changed from scrubs into jeans and a green t-shirt with cap sleeves and his heart leaps when she enters his line of sight. He stands up a bit straighter, buoyed by her presence. He wants to hug her, but he stuffs his hands in his pockets instead. Off limits, he keeps reminding himself. Unavailable.

“Hi,” she says with a nervous little smile.

“Hey,” he responds with a broad grin. “Shall we?” he says as he tilts his head toward the exit.

It’s a wonderfully mild day and they walk the four blocks to Cafe Adamo, the orange Tooms file tucked neatly under his arm. They are mostly quiet as they walk, enjoying the warm breeze and lack of traffic noise. Scully lifts her hand to hoist her purse strap up on her shoulder and his stomach lurches when the sun catches on a large diamond ring on her finger. The ring finger of her left hand. It shouldn’t matter, unavailable is unavailable, but knowing that she’s getting married takes his already dashed dreams and stomps them into dust.

They sit at the same corner table they had on their previous visit and this time she orders an iced coffee, much to his relief; he’s not sure he can sit still through more foam-licking. He orders a drip, and as soon as their waiter leaves the table he has to say something.

“Looks like congratulations are in order,” he says, gesturing towards her hand with his chin.

She looks down at the table and startles a little, as if she herself hadn’t known the ring was there.

“Oh, yeah, um, thank you,” she replies tersely, avoiding his eye.

“When did that happen?” he inquires, morbidly curious.

“Uh, in late June, the twenty-first.”

His eyebrows lift a little. He’s sure she wasn’t wearing a ring the other times he’s seen her.

“That’s, uh, that’s great. Do you have a date set?” Why the fuck is he asking her about this? Right, because that’s what a friend would do.

“Yes, as of recently, it’s October thirteenth, this year.”

He chuffs a laugh, his head dropping close to the table.

“What?” she asks, her eyebrows knit in confusion.

He lifts his head to look at her with an ironic smile. “That’s my birthday,” he says flatly, and pink immediately rises to her cheeks.

“Oh,” she says as though she’s committed an embarrassing faux pas.

“Here, check this out,” he says, changing the subject and sliding the orange file across the table to her. “Eugene Victor Tooms, a seemingly typical, if not a little strange, man who was in fact a liver-eating mutant. He would eat his victim’s liver to sustain his own life, and then build a nest from newspaper and bile where he would hibernate for thirty years before repeating the pattern.”

“Bile? As in stomach acid?” Scully says with a doubtful tone that matches her expression.

“Yes ma’am, I had the unfortunate experience of coming into close contact with it and I can attest to its authenticity.”

“Mulder, humans don’t hibernate, much less for thirty years.”

“Well, Eugene Victor Tooms was hardly human, Scully. At one-hundred-twenty-one years young, he was on a steady diet of three livers per hibernation break.”

Their coffees are dropped off, but the conversation continues despite the interruption.

“The oldest human who’s ever lived is one-hundred-nineteen years old. On top of that, even if someone were to live to be one-hundred-twenty-one they certainly wouldn’t be healthy or fit enough to murder people and eat their livers, then have enough energy left over to build a bile-nest.” She’s animated, her hands punctuating her statements as her face quirks into an ‘I can't even believe I’m even having this conversation’ expression, and he can’t help but smile.

“Okay, if you don’t agree with my conclusions, Scully, then tell me what you think happened,” he says gently.

She pulls in a deep breath and lets it out in a huff, her shoulders deflating. “I don’t know, Mulder. I’d need access to the biological materials, to analyze them in a lab. We’d need to do a full physical work up on Mr. Tooms, genetic testing.”

Mulder bobs his head. “Well, that will prove difficult seeing as Mr. Tooms met his end under the teeth of an escalator,” he replies, and her eyes go big for a moment.

She shakes her head, closing the folder and sliding it back across the table towards him. “Didn’t it bother you, to work all these cases and never have any real answers?” she asks.

Mulder shrugs. “Yes and no. For me, it isn’t as much about the answers themselves as it is the journey towards the one great truth. Doors are opened along the way, avenues cleared, and it all lends itself towards moving me further along on my quest.”

She’s looking at him with soft, affectionate eyes. She’s really listening and it feels so fucking good. It’s not very often that anyone really listens when he talks. Really hears him.

“What do you consider to be your quest?” she asks gently.

“If I were really to narrow it down, to find my sister. Or to understand what happened to her.” His hand is sitting on top of the closed file and he startles a little when she reaches out and rests her palm against his knuckles. She gives him a sympathetic smile and then pulls it back, sitting up a bit straighter in her seat and busying herself stirring her coffee with a straw.

“Priscilla misses you,” he says, changing the subject again, and her delighted smile makes his heart swell.

“How can you possibly know that?” she replies skeptically, even though it’s clear that she wants it to be true.

“You think I can’t communicate with my cat?” he asks in mock offense, “what kind of roommate would I be if I didn’t learn to speak her language?”

Scully shakes her head, the smile still playing on her lips. “So how’d you end up being the one to keep her, anyway?” she asks, “she’s such a sweet cat, I’m surprised your ex was willing to part with her.”

Mulder takes a sip of his coffee before continuing. “At the time that Valerie, that’s my ex, moved out, she was planning to spend some time bumming around Europe so she really couldn't take Priscilla. I think by the time she got back, she felt too guilty about taking her away so she just let me keep her. Prissy always preferred me anyway, so I think she was satisfied with the custody arrangement.”

“So, you’re still in touch with her, then? Your ex?” She’s not making eye contact, trying to act casual, but he can tell she’s curious to know if they’re still involved. He’s curious to know why she cares.

“Oh, yeah, we’re on good terms, always have been. We don’t spend a ton of time together, but I would still consider her a close friend,” he answers honestly.

Scully frowns a little. “Then why did you break up, if you get along so well?”

Mulder sits back in his chair, considering the question for a moment. “I guess there just wasn’t a spark, you know. We looked great on paper, very compatible technically speaking. She was my best friend, a great partner. There was just something missing, for both of us. I loved her, still love her, but not in that way that makes you go ‘shit, I could spend the rest of my life waking up next to this person.’ And we both wanted that, and thought maybe we could have it with someone else, so we broke up.” He leans forward again, elbows on the table top, and takes in her stoic expression.

After a moment of contemplation, she speaks. “How would you know, if you had ‘the spark’ as you call it? What does that even mean?” There’s a mild defensiveness to her tone and it confuses him.

“I think...I think you just know,” he says, meeting her eye. She swallows and then drops her gaze, picking up her cup and sucking noisily at the last drops of coffee that cling to the ice.

[eatyourchancletas]

SUMMARY |  y/n l/n; the trauma surgeon who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and is taken hostage by the terrifying mafia known as ateez. despite their situations, love arises between the doctor and san; but when an enemy comes in between the group, breaking trust and belief between the members, what will san choose to save; his newfound love or his brothers?

PAIRING | choi san x male reader

INFO/CATEGORY | mafia au, fluff, light angst

WARNINGS | violence, weapon usage/mention, foul language, lower case writing

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AUTHOR’S NOTE | woops, finally have chapter 3 here! alex wasn’t able to finish it so i (monnie) did, but alex edited it so it was a smooth process. please like and reblog!! feedback is greatly appreciated!! please excuse any mistakes!

WORD COUNT | 4.7k

TAG LIST :; @jonghoshoe​  if you’d like to be added to the list please say so in our inbox/ask box!

hongjoong had gathered everyone around, gaze settled upon his members. “this mission is very important. we’ve managed to get a good deal. he says if he manages to make a good first impression with us, he’ll be willing to work with us at a smaller price.”

everyone nodded along, understanding what he was trying to say: don’t mess this up. 

the leader continued as everyone seemed to catch the drift, “but we’re going to be very careful with this. we don’t put ourselves out there, so i don’t know how he knows our reputation enough to want to further business before we’ve even started.”

seonghwa perked up, arms tightening around himself, “that means old business is talking.” hongjoong nodded, letting him know they were both on the same page.

after a moment of silence, hongjoong sucked his teeth and looked up at y/n, eyes holding an emotion the older couldn’t read. the two held eye contact for barely 3 seconds before hongjoong spoke in yeosang’s direction. “i want you to stay here with y/n,” at those words, the younger gave a look that explained his feelings very well, y/n thought.  

yeosang thought this was bullshit, but he couldn’t speak out on it because he trusted hongjoong knew well enough. “don’t take it personal, i don’t trust y/n fully. we don’t know what can happen.”

yeosang could only nod, deciding against disobeying hongjoong’s orders. 

“alright, everyone get ready. we leave in an hour, i wanna get there early. scope out the place.”

y/n felt ashamed and angry. 

ever since the group left for the mission, almost an hour ago, yeosang has been rude and treating him like he was the cause of all his problems. he felt ashamed because yeosang’s bruteness made him feel, somewhat, small and embarrassed, like it was his fault they were in this situation.

“get out of my way,” yeosang had shoved y/n on the way to the kitchen. the older stared dumbfounded, patience wearing thin.

“a simple excuse me would’ve been nice.”

yeosang scoffed, opening the refrigerator. if there was one thing that bothered him, it was being on babysitting duty. 

“yeah, well i’m not exactly in the mood to play around and be all goody-two-shoes. so you know what would be nice?” he directed a sharp glare to y/n, not giving him a chance to answer his rhetorical question, “if you would fuck off.”

y/n bit his tongue, sizing up the smaller. his thoughts blocked his irritation, taking in the fact that yeosang was a gang member. he’s pretty sure size wouldn’t inconvenience the younger when handling a physical situation, much less a verbal one.

the doctor went to walk away as yeosang placed a plate in the microwave, until he noticed red markings on the skin of yeosang’s wrist, his shirt sleeve sliding down as his arm lifted. “are you okay?”

“last i checked, i didn’t ask for some psychological evaluation. so for the love of god-”

“no- i meant your wrist… is your wrist okay?”

a barely noticeable blush covered yeosang’s ears, “i’m fine. it’s nothing.” 

y/n’s head tilted, an unsure look on his face.“do… do you mind if i take a look at it?” 

yeosang stilled, the low hum of the microwave filling in the silence. he hesitated, but decided against it, knowing yunho had told him he needed to get it looked at because there wasn’t much he could do.

his eyes drifted to y/n, his arm slowly gravitating in the direction of y/n, a silent approval. the doctor carefully walked forward, gently grabbing yeosang’s hand and pulling the sleeve slightly. a small gasp left his mouth, the sleeve barely pulled back but the wound already looked pretty bad. “do you have a first aid kit?”

the metal lid of the small trash can clinked as it swung back and forth, ointment-clotted swabs and bandage wrappers crinkling within the confinement. “thank you,” yeosang’s voice was small, his upset mood dissipating as time went on. 

“it’s no problem,” y/n finished wrapping yeosang’s wrist, careful not to make it too tight, “that was a second degree burn though… how’d you get it?”

yeosang looked down, a blush settling on his cheeks. his head dropped and his feet swung under the medical cot he sat on. he mumbled something, biting his lip afterwards, and y/n’s eyebrows furrowed. “i’m sorry, what was that?” and yeosang mumbled once more, y/n still not hearing what he said. “huh?”

“i said i burned myself trying to help seognhwa hyung make your meals!”

y/n blinked, “oh.”

and for the next few moments, it was deadly silent, the ticking of the wall clock echoing. y/n couldn’t take the awkwardness any longer, clearing his throat, “well, next time you get hurt, please don’t be afraid to come to me. it’d give me something to do, i already feel pretty useless and lonely here, to be honest.”

yeosang looked up, his feet no longer swinging, and a confused look on his face. “you’re not useless. we wouldn’t have kept you alive if you were.”

at that moment y/n inhaled, not knowing how to respond to that. “uh, jeez, that uh… hm, that makes me feel better… i guess?” a moment passed before the two chuckled, a comedic break turning out to be a lot more comforting than they expected. 

minutes passed, their conversation dying down into light replies and subtle smiles when yeosang asked a question that threw the doctor off. “do you know anyone by the name of heeseung?”

dozens of thoughts raced through y/n’s mind; why does he want to know? is heeseung okay? did he do something he wasn’t supposed to? 

“. . . yes.” but y/n couldn’t ask any further because before he knew it, yeosang had nodded and gotten down from the cot, walking out of the infirmary area.

meanwhile, miles away the others had arrived at the meeting spot, every member cautiously looking out for anything strange. seonghwa began pulling in closer to the black van adjacent to theirs, letting hongjoong and wooyoung scout to make sure this was the man they were meeting with.

after confirmation that this was dongwoo, they holstered their weapons within the waistbands of their trousers and exited the van. 

“have you got it?” hongjoong cut to the chase; he was quite a brute person when it came to work. and dongwoo and his people wanted to make a good first impression? he’d see how well he could handle him.

“yep, got a truckload of ak-47’s, m16’s, and a couple 9mm’s. all smuggled from america.”

hongjoong pursed his lips, an impressed nod making dongwoo’s ego subtly inflate. word on the street said no one had successfully managed to smuggle weapons, specifically guns, to ateez without the korean law getting too heavily involved. the trader always got caught, and ateez always made sure to utilize their connections and silence those who they couldn’t trust to keep their mouths shut. 

hongjoong had to go to some expensive lengths just to get the glock 17’s they used now. the quality of the gun proved its worth though, they learned. however, it was rare that they resorted to guns—they didn’t rely on them unless they themselves were in danger or if someone needed to be silenced quickly.

“looks good to me,” hongjoong complimented, turning his head slightly toward wooyoung, “bring out their payment.” 

wooyoung nodded briefly, bringing his hands from behind his back, a large herbal drink-branded bag being showcased. dongwoo raised a brow, peeking over and catching a glimpse of the rolls of cash that filled the bag to the brim.

“thank you for your service,” hongjoong beckoned wooyoung to hand the bag to dongwoo, before he went to step toward his shipment.

“wait, what?”

at dongwoo’s abruptness, san stepped forward, “what do you mean ‘what’? take the deal or leav—” his words died down and he cowered back when hongjoong’s sharp glare met his eyes, immediately silencing him. 

the leader clasped his hands behind his back and made a sharp turn toward the man. “is there something wrong?” his head was tilted and a curious look was on his face, there shouldn’t have been anything wrong with this offer and if there was, there was only a problem on dongwoo’s side. call it being ignorant, but hongjoong didn’t say he never had a problem because he wanted to be cocky and egotistic. it was simply the truth. 

out of every issue he and the others had encountered with a deal, none had gone wrong on their part. it was part of the reason their group was at the top—they were efficient business partners and leaders. something only went wrong when non-mutual expectations weren’t met.

“there’s no ‘we’re looking forward to doing future business with you’?”

a small smirk had taken over hongjoong’s lips, hidden by the hanging of his head. “mr. yoo, we further business with those of the same intentions as us. do you, perhaps, know what those intentions are?”

dongwoo stood dumbfounded; of everything he heard about ateez and their leader, he didn’t think to find out just what their goal was.

“it seems you don’t know, so i’ll tell you. we, ateez, have come this far from one thing and one thing only—loyalty. when i heard your proposition of your first impression leading to cheaper traders, something was a little off,” his eyes squinted and he bought his pointer finger and thumb to barely touch, “you know a little too much, don’t you think?”

dongwoo’s eyes widened slightly but he recovered, however, it was noticeable. “what are you talking about?” 

“someone’s been talking, haven’t they? leaking information about us that they, most certainly, weren’t warranted to give, but you probably don’t know much—you’re not the loose tie that needs to be cut off,” he looked dongwoo dead in the eyes as his own narrowed, “i hope.”

his intimidating stare lasted for a few moments more before a light smile covered his face, eye lightening. “take your payment, we’ll be taking our things and leaving.”

hongjoong gave a nod of his head, him and the rest of ateez splitting up to hook the small weapon-filled-trailer to their own vehicle, dongwoo and his men pulling off once it was unattached. 

“boss, i don’t feel so good about this right now. i think we should hurry and get out of here.” yunho spoke, a hand rubbing at the hairs that stood on the back of his neck. hongjoong didn’t question further, sharing the suspenseful feeling that creeped up his spine, giving a prompt nod.

after 5 minutes were spent attaching the trailer and making sure they were ready to go, seonghwa started the engine and waited for everyone to get in. just as san and mingi were about to get in the van, the screeching of tires sounded nearby.

“get down!” and bullets went flying.

“do you like raisin bran?”

y/n gave a slight nod, folding his hands in front of him. “sure!” yeosang held the box in the air, stopping mid-grab.

“aren’t you a doctor? raisin bran has a lot of sugar…”

y/n shrugged his shoulders, standing to get bowls for the both of them, “i’m a doctor, not a dentist. besides, i’m quite the sugar addict. with the injuries i see and multiple hour surgeries i perform, i need some type of a high—so sugar high it is!”

yeosang laughed, shaking his head and setting the cereal box on the counter before grabbing the milk from the fridge. “quick question doc,” yeosang began and y/n looked at him, setting the bowls and spoons down. “milk first or cereal?”

yeosang held a laugh in when y/n had a visibly offended look on his face, a hand pressing to his chest. “yeosang, please tell me you put cereal fi—”

“shit! y/n where the fuck are you?!” someone had frantically shouted from the front of the house, yeosang and y/n giving each other a worried look before tripping over their own feet to reach the living room.

“oh my—what happened?!”

“fuck,” hongjoong let out a belligerent roar, “get him to the infirmary!”

y/n panicked, grabbing onto the injured man and hoisting him up into his arms, rushing to the infirmary. he looked down at the paled man in his arms, huffing out a breath of air, “don’t worry san, i’ve got you!”

san lies on the medical cot, eyes still and closed and chest rising and falling in a calming pattern. y/n is sitting next to him, checking his vitals every few minutes and making sure his labs are okay. after verifying everything is stable, he sat the clipboard down, closing his own eyes and lying his head in his arms on the cot, dozing off. 

it’d been about 3 hours since san was bought in like this. y/n could’ve laughed at how freaked out he was earlier—san’s injuries weren’t even the worst he’s ever seen or treated, but your emotions and professionalism change when the person lying on your operating table is someone you have a nice relationship with… and when said patient’s fellow gang members are breathing down your neck, reminding you that there’s no other option than survival for him...

“how is he?” hongjoong’s voice startled y/n out of his exhausted haze, the older jumping in his spot.

“he’s fine now. if you’d have been any later, he would have coded… and i can’t do much for coding outside a hospital.”

the leader nodded his head, his chest and shoulders dropping slightly as if he could finally breathe. y/n watched him, watched how hongjoong toed around the cot, staring san’s unconscious form down.

y/n fumbled with his fingers, running over his next words in his head before just blurting them. “is it hard?”

“what do you mean?”

he shrugged his shoulders, looking at the shorter, “being a leader… having to watch over everyone,” he held eye contact with the leader, trying to read his expression, “it must be suffocating when something happens to one of them.”

hongjoong’s tongue swiped over his teeth as he stared the taller down. the air around them was tense—hongjoong knew y/n meant good by his words, but he’s not the type of person to just get emotional with people, especially those who aren’t exactly close to him. the others may see y/n as someone more than a hostage, but to hongjoong, he was just that. a person they were taking advantage of—a person who was only cooperative because his life was on the line.

“we’re going to head back to the shooting scene and see if we can find anything that’ll lead us to dongwoo, son-of-a-bitch. wooyoung and yeosang will stay with you and san… so let them know if you or san needs anything.” y/n cleared his throat, giving a curt nod before standing up and walking toward the cabinets, desperate to escape the awkward and tense aura. 

when he heard the door to the infirmary shut, signaling hongjoong had left, he let out a sigh before starting to occupy himself again. he opened a cabinet, grabbing a roll of gauze—it was time to change san’s dressings.

as he made his way back to the cot, he noticed san was now awake and it caused him to stop in his tracks. “when did you wake up?”

“unfortunately, when it got awkward,” san watched y/n’s face fall, a look of embarrassment overtaking his tired features. he held back a teasing smile, leaning back on his arms, although hissing in pain and sitting back up when the pressure sent a stabbing pain through his side and shoulder. he watched y/n walk toward him and lift his clean shirt to start snipping at the dirtied gauze anchored around his naked shoulder.

a few moments went by of y/n re-bandaging and wrapping san’s wounds before the injured boy’s head tilted to the side. he didn’t know if it was because he was high off pain meds or if it was because he’s been so deprived of seeing an unfamiliar face… but y/n looked really handsome and flattering. even thinking about feeling that way sent a drunk feeling to san’s head, his mind getting lost and going blank in the echoing cavity of his skull. it was no secret to himself that he was rather flexible when it came to his romantic relationships and feelings, but he was still foreign to it.

he decided to push it to the back of his mind, feeling rather rushed and irrational at the moment, “y/n hyung… are you feeling better now?”

the older turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised in confusion, “i should be asking that—you’re the one who got shot in the shoulder and stomach,” he pulled san’s shirt back down, careful not to put pressure on his shoulder. he turned around for a moment before turning back and wrapping san’s arm in a sling.

“thank you,” the younger softly spoke, before continuing, “i just noticed you’re more at ease with all of...this. it’s almost a complete 180 from when we first met.”

the doctor’s hands froze against his own lap, a sigh leaving his mouth and his eyes fluttering in a blink of realization, “i guess so.”

“they’re not here—”

hongjoong sighed through his nose, looking rather composed; and the others thought it wasn’t much of a deal until the leader kicked the seat in front of him, scaring seonghwa, who was in the driver’s seat. “call yeosang.”

“been here for a while, what’s up.” said male spoke through their communicator, sounding calm and unbothered.

“can you please stop doing th—can you find anything about dongwoo’s whereabouts?”

“give me a sec,” the boy registered, the clicking of a keyboard sounding into the communication device.

“alright so while yeosang’s doing what should have been done, please tell me why there wasn’t an extensive amount of research on this client?” hongjoong was pissed. not only did their transaction end in a one-sided gunfight, it ended up with one of their own having more than one bullet wound.

wooyoung swallowed, knowing damn well the question was aimed at him. “hyung, i did do research. i made sure to look up what links he has with other businesses and everything that i could think of. i’ve never failed at doing so-”

“then why did you fail this time?”

it got heavily quiet, seonghwa looking at his boyfriend through the rear-view mirror. no one uttered a breath and looked away from a fidgeting wooyoung.

“aight i’m back.”

hongjoong ignored seonghwa’s prompting  gaze, “what did you find?”

“nothing. they’re good at covering their tracks and maybe that’s why wooyoung couldn't find much. usually, we resort to hacking, but i’ve never seen these sorts of codes before and if you want me to break the wall down it will take longer than what you’d want.”

the leader sighed once more, pinching the bridge of his nose while bouncing his right leg. “No it’s fine, we’ll just hope dongwoo and his crew don’t appear again.”

“but hyung, isn’t that a little reckless-”

“you shouldn’t be one to speak right now.” hongjoong turned to glare at wooyoung, the younger male pursing his lips and nodding. “everyone get in the car, we're going back.”

“...so i’m not going to try and hack this? aw.”

“what’s wrong?” san frowned as wooyoung sulked while sitting next to him on the cot.

“hyung’s mad with me…”

y/n had his back facing them, trying to arrange the mess that was on the counter where all the ointments and supplies were. yunho had came in earlier to apologize for not keeping it organized, his exact words being “i just clean up their wounds as best as i can, and i’m not really in here unless it’s an emergency.”

san lingered a glance at y/n as if the older would do the same. “is it because of dongwoo?”

the younger nodded with a pout, leaning on san’s side. “mhm, and he hasn’t talked to me since.”

“well you know joong-hyung, he’s…” san thought for a few seconds, and when he couldn't find the words, he bit the inside of his cheek. “ he’ll get over it, just give it time. or talk to seonghwa-hyung, he’ll know what to do, he always does.”

wooyoung whined, “i already did! and he said ‘i can’t do anything’ with that pained smile of his!”

san blinked, “what? you’re lying, hwa-hyung would never fail us-”

“no no, i was there. he talked to hongjoong-hyung before wooyoung came up to him...or at least tried. joong-hyung isn’t talking to anyone right now. that’s why hwa-hyung told you he can’t do anything.”

“yeo, i swear you’re the nosiest person ever. like, please, i’m not sure if that’s good or bad sometimes.” san grimaced after processing yeosang’s comment through the earpiece.

“as far as i know it’s done us more good than bad. plus, it’s my job to be nosy, remember? we all get paid for things, and i get paid for sticking my nose up yall’s business.”

“wait you do that 24/7?” wooyoung frowned.

“uh, no. sometimes i don’t even intend to do it, ya’ll loud as fuck so sometimes i don’t even need the communicators. and i only comment on things that mean something. and before you ask this did not mean anything, i just wanted to join in the conversation.”

san snorted, “then why didn’t you just walk in here?”

“cus i’m busy right now.”

“doing what?” wooyoung grabbed san’s hand and played with his friend’s fingers.

“doing what i was not authorized to do—hack that wall.”

“won’t you get in trouble?”

“maybe,” the sound of him smacking his lips sounded, “but at least i won’t be given the silent treatment.”

wooyoung sat up. “yah! yeosang i will come down there and kick you!” when he heard no response he jumped off the cot and walked out the room, “yeosang i warned you!”

while hearing his best friend yell down the hall, san laughed. his attention returned to y/n who had his head tilted and a confused look on his face. “what’s wrong, hyung?”

“how...were you two talking to yeosang?” 

san hummed, smiling while tapping the clear earpiece in his ear. “we have them on unless we’re showering and sleeping or something. but when we’re on duty we have them on, speaking of that, i’ll tell jongho to get you one-”

y/n shook his hands in front of him as san was about to move, “you shouldn’t move too much, you might reopen a wound. i’ll call him…” y/n’s voice died down when he realized what he was volunteering to do.

at the sudden look of horror on y/n’s face, san laughed. 

“don’t worry, jongho’s just a buff teddy bear unless in danger. but for now, i’ll call him over.” san raised his hand to his earpiece, making y/n question why he couldn’t do that before. “jongho, can you bring an earpiece for y/n?”

san nodded when the younger agreed, saying he’ll be there shortly. he lowered his hand and rested it on his lap. “have you gotten along with anyone here yet?” he tried to spark conversation with the doctor, highly interested in him and feeling the need to know more about him.

“aside from yeosang, seonghwa and you, uh, not really. maybe yunho? i mean, he’s never showed any sign of hatred towards me so i guess we get along decent too...but i haven’t really had a chance to meet the others.”

the younger nodded, “well we may look tough and all, but i promise we’re all chill. hongjoong-hyung is only tough and straightforward when he’s on the lookout. just give him some time and you’ll see how nice and caring he is.”

y/n hummed, “i guess..”

“i have arrived with the product~” jongho smiled while walking inside the room, a box in hand. “once you put it on it will send yeosang a message and he’ll grant access to it.”

san watched jongho gesture y/n to grab it, but he took it before the doctor did. “here, i’ll put it in for you.”

jongho did his best to not snort or laugh, leaning against the wall instead. he watched san help y/n with setting up the earpiece, amused at how san seemed interested in the doctor.

“ok done, yeosang should grant access soon.” san smiled at y/n, the doctor returning it with his own.

a few minutes of quiet tension passed and jongho felt the need to do something; he pressed the button on the side of his earpiece. “yeosang-hyung, are you not going to-”

“give me a second, i just kicked wooyoung out. if he goes up there with a black eye don’t question it, he’ll say what happened without you asking.”

“you didn’t actually give him a black eye did you-”

“if he did then that can easily be taken care of…” y/n commented while watching jongho roll his eyes.

“yeah i did-”

“no he didn’t.” wooyoung butted in, it sounded like he was munching on something. “it was the other way around-”

san chuckled, shaking his head at his friend's bickering. he realized y/n’s earpiece was successfully connected when he saw the older grin. 

“i bet they both have a black eye.” y/n nodded to himself.

jongho rose a brow, a grin prominent on his features. “and how much are we betting?”

y/n hummed, “thirty bucks.”

“i wanna bet too~,” san grinned, “let’s check it out then. can i move now?”

“hmm...i’d say no but you probably wouldn’t really listen to me so... as long as you don’t make sharp movements.” 

san cheered, extending his free arm to get help in getting off the cot. “let’s go then!”

“hello?” 

“mrs. l/n! how are you? it’s heeseung...lim heeseung.”

the woman on the other end of the phone gasped in what sounded like happiness, “heeseung! It’s been a while since i last heard of you, is something wrong?”

the nurse leaned back into his couch, “well i called to ask if you've seen y/n…”

“i see...well we haven’t heard of him for quite some time now. we thought it was because of work you know? but you two are close aren’t you, i assumed you would know about his whereabouts”

heeseung sighs softly, “well we were close before we broke up...i called because he hasn’t appeared at work for almost two weeks now. everyone knows y/n is a workaholic so it’s rare for him to miss days. and i wanted to ask if i can go to the police and file a report.”

“have you checked his apartment? you do know where he lives right?”

“i do...”

“well if he isn’t there then yes, go to the police station. please let us know if you find anything!”

“of course, thank you.” heeseung smiled painfully to himself, bidding farewell to y/n’s mother before hanging up. soon after he turned off his phone and sighed, he really hopes y/n is at his apartment and only took a vacation.

y/n couldn’t help but bust out laughing when the three of them walked inside the kitchen. wooyoung did indeed have a black eye and so did yeosang. 

"darn it." jongho huffed as y/n ended up winning the bet.

seonghwa stood there confused, spatula in hand as he's setting out their plates for dinner.  "and what's this about?" 

san grinned, "we made a bet to see if yeosang and wooyoung gave each other a black eye or not. and luckily y/n ended up winning." 

"would that be called a doctors intuition?" yeosang rose a brow while glaring at the plates seonghwa handed him. 

"good question." y/n chuckled while walking up to the second oldest. "need help?" 

"oh, yeah, thanks." seonghwa smiled while gesturing to the drinks. "set them on the table, everyone will serve their own drinks."

"got it. oh, and after dinner, i'll need you two to come with me so we can take care of those shiners." 

“yeah yeah...”

[wickednerdery]

Title: Save a Mobius, Ride a Loki: Mort 2 Author: @wickednerdery Fandom: Loki, Rick & Morty Pairing/character: Loki & Mobius, Rick & Morty Rating: FRM Summary: “You’re coming with us.” Notes: This is a continuation of the last part and something that’s been stuck in my head since before Loki premiered I’ve been dying to write, so I have. Knowledge of Rick & Morty is helpful, but not required. This story has adult content, language, and violence. For length, etc, there’s a Read More:

“Hey!” Mobius waves big, with both arms, to gain the other two’s attention. “I’d like to talk, can we talk? Hey, hellooo!!” With their fighting he’s able to reach the ship before anyone takes note...and it’s the ship.

“Hold it right there, ass-hole.” It’s like being cursed at by an analogue Miss Minutes, if she were a ship with weapons at the ready.

“Woah, woah, hey, what the fuck?!” Rick’s attention snaps to the man. “You don’t just sneak up on a man’s space cruiser!”

The boy leans over. “You don’t just sneak up on a man’s space cruiser, man.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Yeah, what the fuck is wrong with you?” The boy repeats.

Loki exits the saloon, magic at the ready, as weapons appear in Mobius’ direction. For all their rough start in the interrogation, he admired Mobius and did not wish him harm.

The agent’s hands are already up as he back away. “I...I just want to talk!” He tries to make himself out over the other two. “Can we talk?” Then catches sight of Loki approaching. “Loki, stop!” 

The order halts Loki in his tracks - it is not said in anger, but concern. This is new, from just about anyone. He lets his magic fade, sending only a bit in the other’s direction. A way to protect, to ensure Mobius’ll not be harmed should the others or their ship turn violent.

“Loki, like the Norse god?” Rick’s eyes narrow towards the being. “Mmm…” He belches. “No wonder he took my shit.”

Morty looks over with interest. “I thought Loki had red hair, Rick?”

Rick huffs. “Multiple universes, multiple Lokis.”

“Well, which one is this?”

“How the hell should I know, you think I follow every Loki? Think I’m some kind of Loki-worshipping fangirl that knows every single one there is out there?” Rick starts to think, calculate and eliminate possibilities. “Looks like the Mousey one.”

“Mousey one?” 

“I beg your pardon?” Loki interjects his offense.

Rick pays the god no mind. “Yeah, Mort, you know the one. The one that that mouse-loving company made people fall in love with only to make him progressively weaker and more ridiculous until he’s finally choked out by a giant grape.”

“Oh...yeah...that one.”

If Loki wasn’t so flabbergasted at the commentary, he’d have blasted them both into oblivion.

“Hey, give me back my portal gun, you Mousey son-of-a-bitch!”

Mobius senses the increasing tension, the loss of interest in him. “I have a proposition for you...Rick.”

The elder man turns back to the one standing beside his ship, burps. “Not interested.”

“I think you might be. You’re a man of science, right? Pretty smart guy.”

“I’m not ‘pretty smart’...” Liquor bottles and cans tumble out, spill across the floor, as Rick opens the hatch. “I’m a fucking genius.”

“I know.” Mobius confirms.

Rick scowls, unconvinced, over the mass of liquor bottles. “All right, Brokeback Mobius, thrill me.”

“If looks could kill.” Mobius smiles back, confidently amused. “Here, tell me what you think of this.” He hands the defunct TemPad over.

While Morty shows interest, Rick only gives a cursory look. “Earth-618 TemPad used by the mindless bureaucrats at the Time Variance Authority. It won’t work here.”

“Yeah...we figured that out, but…” The agent shifts, smile remaining. “Maybe you can do something with it.”

“Why?” He tosses it behind him. “I don’t do time travel.”

“No?”

“Time travel’s broke, inter-dimensional space travel’s woke, bro.”

Mobius presses on. “Okay, but someone like you…”

“A genius.”

“Could probably turn it into something else.”

“Sure. I could also turn myself into a pickle or make a robot that gives my grandson nothing but blowjobs and a constant high off Adderall. So what?”

Loki pulls his magic forward, preparing to teleport himself and Mobius in case negotiations go sideways. He’ll not simply hand over the portal gun; something the lad seems to intuit as his eyes set on Loki like a watchdog.

The agent gets up with a sigh. “Never mind, I was wrong thinking you’d want to do anything with a…useless piece of technology.” He collects the TemPad, muttering disappointment. “Probably can’t anyway...”

Rick narrows eyes at him. “Are you trying to bait me? Is that it?” 

“No, no…” Yes, yes, he absolutely was. The man reminds Mobius of Loki, utterly brilliant, and completely unable to resist proving himself. “You’re not interested, I respect that.” He tucks the TemPad into his jacket. “Everyone has their limits.”

Rick gets up, bottle in hand. “Hey, fuck you and your not-ginger Loki, I have no limits!”

“Oh, sure you do.“

Morty whines. “Rick, just freeze them or something so we can grab the portal gun and go!”

“How the fuck am I gonna freeze a frost giant, you dumb little son-of-a-bitch?!” Before the boy has the chance to offer an alternative Rick continues. “There’s no fucking way I’m letting some know-nothing pencil pusher with a secret hard-on for a god of pranks...”

The statement flusters Mobius, throws him off his rhythm, as Rick’s rant continues.

“...Think I can’t do something as simple as turning some shitastic time travel device into something actually worthwhile!”

"Then prove us wrong.” Loki jumps in to point Rick in the direction he and Mobius ultimately need. “Make the TemPad something worthwhile, perhaps another portal gun, and we will return yours.”

“Fine!” Rick snaps, then belches into calm. “But I need my lab.”

“Perfectly understandable.” Mobius chimes back in, simply relieved it’s worked. “We’ll stay here until you return. I promise.” A promise he intends to keep, to make Loki keep.

Morty looks to his grandfather, who looks back, before they both burst into laughter. “Yeah, right, how stupid do we look?” The boy was young, not naive.

“You’re -” Rick belches again. “Coming with us.”

Mobius and I both agreed it best he handle this lest someone end up dead, haha! I’m sure Loki and Rick will interact more later and am excited for him and Mobius to meet the rest of the Smith/Sanchez family. After that they’ll either return to a (different) cowboy world or move on...not sure, lol! (And, for anyone curious Morty is about 14 years old.)

All gifs made found on Google, combined by me, credit goes to whoever their OG makers are!

Those who may read: @holykryptonitekitten @lady-crowned-with-stars @ultrarebelheart @chibiyanai @dreamsofapiratelife @biiskuitx @delightfulheartdream @antoniostarshadow13 @mobiusbmobius​ @zippythewondersquirrel …If you wish to be tagged in future pieces, please let me know!

[ahsbitch]

The Grey-Outpost!Michael Langdon x Reader

Word Count: 5143

Summary: So I got this message for my prompts and it was supposed to just be a blurb like the others but it was already getting way too long and then I realized it would fit really well with a oneshot idea I had a month or two ago sooo here we are

Warnings: so many, nsfw, smut, virginity loss, first time, first orgasm, actually first three lmao, fingering, choking, Mean!Michael, slapping, overstimulation, emotional manipulation, brief blowjob, unprotected sex, breeding kink, a little bit of corset kink, some cockwarming bc it’s me, very Sub!Reader, also overly nice reader which probably doesn’t need a warning but I’m putting it anyway, , mentions of violence, some waxing poetic bc again that’s just me, floor licking, some?underwear stuff? Idk man, did I mention swearing bc that’s here too, idk, that’s all I can think of but my brain is not entirely focused so if I missed something I’m sorry

A/N: I’m sorry I’m like this but I hope it’s okay. Comments are always appreciated! Even just in the tags of a reblog! Or a message! Or anything! Hearing your reactions makes me feel so good!

Mini Tag List: @wroteclassicaly​ @michaellangdonstanaccount​ @guiltyfiend​

@angelicmichael​

(i actually don’t remember if all of you asked to be tagged in stuff or not so if you didn’t i’m really sorry i just thought i’d put a few people, if you want me to...Not tag you in stuff that’s totally cool and i totally get it just let me know, if you do want me to tag you in stuff also let me know on that front) 

You confused Michael Langdon. 

It wasn’t intentional, he was sure, but he was not used to being confused by the behavior of humans.

You also annoyed him, although that was less surprising. 

Most people annoyed him. 

But you annoyed him for the same reason that you confused him, and that just made him all the more confused and annoyed and annoyed and confused. 

How the hell were you so nice? 

You treated everyone who crossed your path with such kindness, even though most of them treated you like you were dog shit on the bottom of their shoe. And you simply...smiled? Nodded? Did as they said, if they gave an order, or ignored them if it was just words. 

He had never even seen you complain about your servant status, never seen you look at the drab grey of your dress with even an ounce of disdain. 

He’d taken to reading your thoughts, even more than he did with the others, trying to find the cruelty hidden inside you. 

Once, one of the Purples whose name Michael hadn’t bothered to learn had walked into a ladder that you were standing on for some job or another, and you had fallen to the ground, landing hard on your back. The Purple had cursed at you for getting in his way, and you apologized instantly. 

What an asshole, You had thought, and Michael had started to get excited, but a moment later you had shaken your head at yourself, and your thoughts continued, No, Y/N, don’t be unfair. They live a different type of life here. It’s not his fault that he sees me like this at this point, he’s practically been indoctrinated.

What utter bullshit that was, and yet you’d seemed completely contented with that thought, climbing back onto the ladder to finish your task. 

Another time he had walked in on you being beaten while Venable watching, smirking. He had simply stared for a while, watching the way you took your blows. 

“What’s going on?” Michael had asked, blood boiling at Venable’s smug expression. 

“A reminder. She’s been a bit slow in her work lately. Distracted, I think, with your proposal of paradise. She needed to remember her place.” 

He had nodded, turning back to observe you, listening for your reaction to those words. 

I haven’t been slower, though. She’s just been angrier. Poor Ms. Venable, she must be scared. I wish she wouldn’t take it out on me, Your stream of thought had paused as you let out a cry of pain, But I hope that she’ll find some type of peace. 

In interviews, Michael had started to ask about you. 

“She’s nice,” Gallant had said rather dismissively, “That’s about it. Not memorable. I don’t think anyone would miss her.” 

“She helps everyone finish their work, even though she has her own,” Another Grey had said, tilting his head to the side in thought, “I saw her take a beating in Mallory’s place once for a broken lamp. I don’t think that’s the only time she’s done that, either. She’s a little too sweet, almost. It can’t be real, can it?”

That was Michael’s thought too, but you were that sweet, or so it seemed. 

He’d begun instructing everyone during their interviews to either completely ignore you or be cruel to you, to treat you with extra disdain, to not bother with respect. He’d told Purples and Greys alike, had watched out to see them following his orders. They were doing it, and you were slowly becoming more and more alone,and yet you never so much as thought anything cruel in return. From time to time, a nasty thought would pop into your head, but you always brushed it away almost instantly, scolding yourself into something overly forgiving of their behavior. Still, you were lonelier than ever, and that meant that it would be all the easier to draw you to him. 

Your interview was the last one that was scheduled, and with every moment that led up to it he found himself getting more and more ready to break you down, and every time he thought of that he found his cock getting harder and harder. 

He was going to ruin you, in more ways than one. 

And then the interview had started, you sitting in your chair with your hands folded neatly in your lap, steadfastly avoiding eye contact with him, a polite smile on your face, and something had snapped deep inside him. 

He wasn’t sure what did it. Maybe it was your answer to why you should be taken to the Sanctuary. 

“I don’t know that I should,” You’d said simply, your damned respectful smile never wavering, “I mean, it would be nice. But I’m not particularly special, right? And if the Sanctuary is meant to be people carrying on the human race, shouldn’t it be the people who are going to make the biggest difference? I know you said that what I thought i was weakness could be my saving, and I get that, I just don’t know if I have any particular weaknesses or any particular saving graces. If you need someone to wash floors or cook in the Sanctuary, then yeah, I’m pretty good at those things. You might want me. But I don’t know that I have any particular talents or powers that would make me more useful than anyone else.” 

Maybe it was what you had said when he’d asked about your anger, about whether or not you would get revenge on any of the others for the way they’d treated you, if you got the chance.

You shrugged, taking a few moments to think about your answer before you spoke, “No. I don’t blame them for it, not really. The world ended. The fact that any of us are alive is strange enough as it is. Them being cruel is probably more of a defense mechanism than anything else. I wish they wouldn’t use me for their anger, or their disdain, or their sadness, I kinda wish they’d just leave me alone sometimes, but I wouldn’t want to get revenge even if I got the chance. I don’t think they deserve to be treated badly, even if they’ve treated me badly.” 

But most likely, it had been your answer when he’d asked what exactly you were thinking about right in that moment. 

“The end of the world, Mr. Langdon, sir,” Your smile finally dropped for just a moment, your embarrassment evident, “And your eyes. They’re very beautiful. I was thinking that heaven probably isn’t real, but if it is, it probably looks something like your eyes. But of course it’s much more likely that hell is real, based on recent events, in which case it probably looks something like the world we live in right now.” 

Michael had stood, instructing you to do the same, and within moments his lips were on yours. 

Yes, he was going to ruin you in every way possible. 

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

This was so totally not how you had planned for your interview to go. 

Was it how Langdon had planned for it to go? Maybe. You wondered vacantly if this had happened with all of his other interviews, if all of them had found themselves lying on the floor, pinned underneath him, feeling him hungrily devouring their mouths in perhaps the best kiss that anyone had ever experienced. 

He trailed kisses down to your throat, hot, open mouthed, that you felt even though they were over the high collar of your dress, and he bit down hard, sucking harshly through the fabric. 

“Fuck!” You groaned out, feeling your skin go hot with embarrassment over the noises you were making. 

“Don’t hold back, pet,” He moved his mouth to your ear, kissing the spot just behind your earlobe as he murmured, “You make the most delightful little noises.” 

This served only to embarrass you more, and you chewed on the inside of your cheek to try and hide the moans that threatened to spill from you. 

Langdon’s hand made its way to your neck, squeezing at it as he pulled your head up closer to his, and you let out a pained whine at the pressure his palm put onto the sore spot he had just left on your throat, “Did you not hear me? Don’t hold back. I expect you to follow my orders. I’d think you’d be used to that by now.” 

“I’m sorry, sir,” You let out a strangled cry, and with a sharp smile he finally released you, letting your head drop back against the floor. 

“Next time you don’t listen to me, you will be,” He chuckled at your terrified expression, but after a moment he froze, raising a curious eyebrow at you, “What are you thinking about right now?” 

You weren’t naive enough to think that he actually cared about how you were feeling, but you answered anyway, scared of what may happen if you didn’t, “Honestly? I’m trying to decide if I’m more likely to be murdered by you or by Ms. Venable.” 

Langdon laughed again, moving off of you and leaning against the wall. He looked oddly comfortable like that, although you wouldn’t be surprised if his outfit cost more than the entire Outpost, and with a wolfish grin he patted his lap gently. 

You frowned, unsure of what that meant, but Langdon simply rolled his eyes and wrapped a hand around your wrist, tugging you into his lap. 

This was… odd.

After a moment, he gripped both of your wrists, raising your arms up and placing them on his shoulders, and you locked your fingers around the back of his neck, staring dumbly at him as you did so. 

His legs extended straight out, but he held you steady in his lap, arm wrapped your hips, your own legs perpendicular to his. 

This was very odd. 

“Now tell me,” It was interesting, the way Langdon’s words sounded more like a purr, “Why do you think that I would kill you?” 

Shyly you dropped your gaze, but then his hand was under your chin, lifting until you looked him in the eye, and you shrugged, “I mean… you said you would. It was like the first thing you told me when I came in. That if I lied or hedged or anything like that you’d...y’know...obliterate me.” 

“And have you lied to me?” His voice was sharp now, his eyes dangerous, although something playful still danced around the edges of his lips. 

“No!” You flinched, prepared for him to hit you even though he made no movement to do so, and after a minute, after you’d realized that no strike was coming, you blinked at him, “I, uh, no, sir. But you’re, well, forgive me for saying so, Mr. Langdon, but you’re very intimidating.” 

He was frowning now, just a little, and you probably wouldn’t have even noticed if you hadn’t been so fascinated by his mouth, “I’m glad you find me intimidating. I’d be a bit concerned for your sanity if you didn’t. But I have no plans at the moment to kill you, and as long as you keep telling me the truth like this, I doubt it’ll arise. Now, why would Venable kill you?” 

“She’s strict about her rules,” You felt your face heating up again, “No sexual contact of any kind. And we, y’know, we kissed. If she finds out, well, she’d even kill a Purple for breaking the rules so explicitly like that. She’d kill a Grey for a lot less.” 

“And we’ll be doing a lot more,” Langdon’s smooth voice echoed in your ears, and you shivered slightly at the insinuation, “Venable will not touch you.”

“Why not?” Your curiosity got the better of you, and you asked before you could think about the fact that it was probably a bad idea. 

Luckily, Langdon did nothing more than chuckle at you again, shifting slightly underneath you, “Because if anyone here is going to harm you, pet, it’s going to be me.” 

For some reason, his words made you clench your thighs, and you swallowed to avoid letting out a whine. 

“Yes sir,” You said softly, and then, when he’d started pressing kisses along your jaw, “There’s one more thing.” 

“And what would that be?” 

Clearing your throat, you fought to keep holding eye contact with him, “I don’t, I mean, I don’t want to be one of those people who fucks someone to get something. I don’t want to sleep with you just in hopes of going to the Sanctuary, especially because you could easily say you’re going to take me until after we’re done and then tell me you’ve changed your mind or something. I don’t want that. I’d rather you just... tell me the truth now.” 

“Alright,” Sighing, Langdon straightened up a little, shifting beneath you again so that you suddenly became aware of his erection pressing into you, “You’re not going to the Sanctuary, Y/N. Not even if we fuck. And we are going to fuck, you understand that, right?” 

“Yes sir,” You felt your gaze drop to his lips once more, “I understand. The Sanctuary thing and the fucking thing. May I please kiss you again?” 

“Not only may you do so, but I insist that you do,” His voice was cold now, but one look into his eyes showed you that he was pleased about this, and you frantically brought your mouth to his. 

Langdon slammed you back to the ground, and your head cracked loudly against the marble floor, making you feel a bit dizzy, and then his fingers found their way between the buttons of your dress and he pulled sharply, ripping it in half, and that made you feel even dizzier.

Holy fuck, how strong was he? 

“Lovely,” He murmured, his mouth running over your collarbones and up the curves of your neck, sucking dark bruises onto your skin as he went, “Don’t forget what I told you. I want to hear every single one of your sounds, understood?”

“Yes sir,” Your hands made their way to his hair almost of their own accord as he continued on, mouth drifting down to swirl over your covered nipples. 

“Turn around,” Langdon commanded, and he hummed his approval when you followed his instructions in merely a moment, kneeling before him but facing the wall. 

His long fingers made their way to the ties of your corset, beginning to work on the knot, and he frowned, “This is tied very tightly, pet. Doesn’t it hurt?” 

“I had Mallory tie it extra tightly for me, so I would have something to focus on other than my nerves for the interview,” You let out a hiss of relief as the corset came untied, “It wouldn’t hurt much, but you’re supposed to wear something under a corset, and Ms. Venable doesn’t give the Greys anything to wear under our corsets because she says our comfort isn’t a priority. So it kinda digs into my-ow, fuck, my skin.”

Your cry of distress had come when Langdon’s hands had pressed hard into the red marks that marred your back from your corset. 

“It really has done a number on you,” He helped you unclasp the front of your corset and slip it off, before bringing his hands to your hips, “Get on all fours.” 

You did as he said, unsure of why exactly he was asking you to do so, but you understood a moment later when the wet warmth of his tongue began to stroke along your spine. He licked along each mark that had been left behind, leaving a trail of coolness to follow, and although it stung with each moment of contact, it left some relief as he went. You mewled at the feeling, back arching towards him, desperate for more. 

“Feel better?” He purred, now drawing his nose around your spine.

“Yes,” You sighed pleasantly, “Thank-fuck!”

Langdon had shifted his arms so that one ran under your stomach, holding you in place, and with the other he brought his palm down on your back with all his strength. 

Tears were starting to spill from your eyes, leaving a puddle on the floor as he struck you four more times in quick, painful succession. 

“Aw, does it hurt, pet?” He was cooing at you, voice light and mocking, “Look at you. You’ve made a mess on my floor. Clean that up for me, yes?” 

Unsure of what that meant, you tried to look back at him to ask, but Langdon wrapped his hand around your neck and forced your head to the floor, his entire body pressed against yours, “Clean it up.” 

Hesitantly, you reached your tongue out to the floor, scooping the salty moisture up carefully. The pressure on your throat lightened up so that you could breathe more easily, but he didn’t remove his hand, and you frantically licked the rest of your tears off of the floor. 

Letting you sit up, he smirked at your shy smile, examining the floor carefully before praising you, “Wonderful job, pet. But it appears that the mess on the floor isn’t your only one. You seem to have made quite a mess down here as well.”

With that his hand cupped your pussy over your panties, which had become thoroughly soaked through. He pulled them down slowly, a rumble rolling past his lips at the sound the fabric made as it tried to cling to your damp flesh. He gave a tug and ripped them off of your thighs, bringing the shredded remains up to his face to examine it closely. Staring into your eyes, he poked his tongue out of his mouth and brought it to the fabric, laving slowly over the wetness that coated it. You moaned loudly at the sight, squeezing your thighs together. 

When Langdon was satisfied that he had gotten every drop of your essence off of the scraps of your underwear he tossed them carelessly in the direction of his desk, and then his tongue was on you once again, this time drawing painfully slow stripes from your knee up your inner thigh, ending just at your hip bone. 

“Did you like watching me?” There was amusement in his voice, a kind of mirth that could almost be mistaken for warmth, as he licked closer and closer to where you wanted him most, never deigning to touch you there, “Did it make you even more wet for me? Do you want me to eat your pretty little pussy until you can’t walk? Want me to let you drench my face?” 

“Please, yes, please!” You keened towards him and Langdon clamped his hands onto your thighs to hold you in place, bringing his thumbs down to spread your pussy lips open. There was something so intimately dirty about it that you let out another long moan, his breath fanning hot air against your folds, “Langdon, please, I’ll do anything you ask.”

He scoffed, nuzzling his nose over your entrance, “You’d do anything I asked anyway. But I will say, you have just about the sweetest pussy I’ve ever seen. And you smell divine, pet.” 

Whimpering, you tried to rut up to his mouth, wanting so badly to feel him against you, “Please, sir, Langdon, please, what do I have to do for you to touch me?” 

At those words, Langdon moved away from you completely, now not even letting his fingers drift over your skin, “Was I not touching you before? You’re incredibly ungrateful for someone who I could kill with less than the blink of an eye.” 

“I’m sorry,” You scrabbled to your knees, legs shaking, “I’m sorry, Mr. Langdon, I didn’t mean to be ungrateful. I’m so grateful to you, I am, I’m sorry.” 

“As you should be,” He sneered, but the bulge in his pants looked even larger than it had before, and the corners of his lips twitched up, “You do look very good on your knees for me. I think this is the position you’re meant to be in, the reason you were put on this earth. Why else would you look so lovely like this, look like such a pretty little slut? Open your mouth for me, pet.” 

This is happening. This is actually happening.

Eagerly, you complied, wrenching your mouth as wide open as you could, desperate to please him. Langdon unzipped his dress pants, reaching into his boxers and stroking himself, letting out a deep and rumbly groan as he finally pulled himself out. 

His cock was... beautiful? You hadn’t expected to find it so beautiful. The few dicks you had seen you had mostly found odd, fine enough but not particularly nice to look at, but Langdon’s looked like it had been carved by Michelangelo himself. 

It was also huge, as thick as your wrist and at least as long as your forearm, the tip a throbbing angry crimson. It was veiny, and you would’ve expected that to be strange but it just made it even prettier, an extra long and thick vein running up the side that oddly made your mouth water. 

A fresh wave of desire pulsed through you, but that didn’t stop your worry as he approached you, speaking your anxiety out loud, “Is that... I mean, is that going to fit?” 

Chuckling, Langdon pushed himself into your mouth with no warning, holding the back of your head with one hand as he began an intense, bruising pace, “What’s the matter, little whore? Never been with someone this big?”

That’s one way to put it. 

He froze suddenly, buried down your throat, his pelvic bone pressed against your nose, and slowly he looked down at you with a raised eyebrow, “Wait, you’re a virgin?”

You nodded slowly, and Langdon hissed at the movement, slowly pulling himself away from you, “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“You didn’t ask,” You shrugged, bringing a hand up to massage your jaw, “I didn’t think it would matter, I’m sorry. Does it change things?” 

Langdon gripped your hair, and he pulled you to your feet and into a bruising kiss all in one swift movement. Then his hands were all over you, stroking your skin fervently as he led you to his chair, sitting down and pulling you into his lap once more. The feeling of his dress pants against your bare skin was sinfully lovely, and you were suddenly aware of how exposed you were, when you could see almost nothing of him. 

After what felt like hours, he pulled away from you, his eyes dancing with something deeply dangerous, a brilliant smile on his face, “Of course it matters, pet I wouldn’t have even considered wasting any of my cum in your mouth if I knew your perfect cunt was untouched, waiting for me.” 

You let out a cry as he grabbed onto your hips tightly, beginning to draw you up and down over his length. His cock pressed into your folds, rubbing your clit, and every time he approached your entrance you gasped, “Holy, oh my, fuck, that feels good, Langdon I-”

“Michael,” He interrupted, moving you faster. 

“What?” You blinked up at him in confusion, and he felt his cock twitch at the sight.

“My name is Michael Langdon,” He pressed a kiss to your neck, beginning to suck a new line of hickeys, “You can call me Michael.” 

“Michael,” You sighed, clenching around nothing as a strange sensation started to boil in your stomach, something so pleasureful that you didn’t know what was happening, “Oh, fuck, Michael, you feel so good, please, can’t you just fuck me?” 

“Oh believe me, I’m going to,” His cock was twitching even more now, your name so perfect from his mouth, “But you have to be ready for it first. Come on, pet, come for me, just like this.” 

You mewled, your fingers digging into his shoulders as the boiling in your stomach became more, became overwhelming, and you squeezed your eyes shut as you let out a desperate shriek. 

“I didn’t, oh fuck, oh god, I didn’t know it would feel that good,” You panted, and Michael raised an eyebrow at you yet again as you buried your face in his shoulder. 

“Have you... have you never had an orgasm before?” 

You shook your head against him, letting out another gasp as one of his fingers started to toy around your entrance, “No, I haven’t. I mean, I thought I might have once, but it was nothing like that.”

“Have you ever had any fingers inside you?” He asked, even as he was already easing a finger into you, giving your walls a single stroke before he pushed two more in. 

“No!” You shrieked, the foreign sensation making you buck your hips wildly, “I, I mean, no, I haven’t.” 

Cock throbbing harder than ever before, Michael began to scissor his fingers around, stretching you out, “Fascinating. My little whore is so inexperienced.”

Moaning at his words, you lurched when his middle finger hit a spot deep inside you that made you see stars, “M-m-Michael, please!”

“M-m-Michael! M-m-Michael!” He mocked you, scooping the hand that wasn’t busy working you open under your ass, shifting out of the seat and lowering you to the ground, his mouth finding its way to your tits, “Wait, pet. Be a patient slut for me and you’ll be rewarded.” 

You nodded as he bit your nipple, toying with it roughly before kissing over to the other side, “Sorry, sorry, oh holy fuck that feels good.” 

Another orgasm was forming deep within you, more mewls leaving your throat as you desperately started to claw at his back, “Michael, fuck, Michael, I’m going to-”

“Good girl,” He purred, pulling his fingers out of you just as you started to cum, and then he slammed his cock into you with no warning, delighting in the bloodcurdling scream that you let out, letting out a guttural moan, “You’re so good for me, aren’t you? Desperate little slut, you were so ready for me to stretch you out, huh?”

“Wait, Michael,” You let out a sob, your cunt pulsing with overstimulation, “Michael, it’s too much, it hurts, please.” 

He was completely bottomed out in you, not moving yet, but he brought both hands up to wrap around your throat, cutting off all of your air, “Now now, pet, that’s no way to thank me for being so kind to you. You’ve cum twice now, haven’t you? And have I gotten to cum even once? No. Now, are you going to be good for me?” 

You nodded fervently, and he released you, leaving you gasping, “Sorry, sorry, Michael. I’m sorry.” 

“Good,” Michael started to pull out of you ever so slowly, moving at a glacial pace until just his tip was inside of you before thrusting in again, filling you up once more, “Oh, you feel good. Your pussy is fluttering all around me. But I should tell you, Y/N, I lied to you.” 

You let out another shaky sob as he hooked his hands under your knees and stretched your legs up, throwing them over his shoulders, continuing his pace of slow drags out followed by impossibly fast thrusts in, your hands scrambling for purchase on the smooth silk that covered his back, “Wh-what? What do you mean?” 

“I told you I wasn’t going to take you to the Sanctuary,” He grunted, his pace getting somehow even slower, in and out both, your slapping skin making loud, lewd noises, “I lied. I am. I’m going to pump you full of my cum, pet, until you’re overflowing with me. I’m going to breed you like the whore you are, and then we’re going to rule over the new world, together.” 

“I don’t understand,” Shrieking again, a whine bubbling out of your throat, you gasped as his hands moved to your tits once more, “Please, Michael, please can you go faster?”

It still hurt, but it was getting better, the pain being overrun with the pleasure. 

Michael complied, slamming into you, setting such a brutal, bruising pace that you were sure you could feel him all the way up in your stomach, “That’s my good little pet. Look at this, your pussy is devouring me. I’m going to wreck you, gonna mold your pussy around my dick so that you know that no one else will ever be able to make you feel good. Your perfect little pussy was made for me, and me alone. You were made for me. Your pussy, your ass, your mouth, these perfect tits,” He gave your breasts a harsh squeeze, running his thumbs over your nipples as you let out another scream, “They’re gonna be full of milk before you know it, filled up for our baby. Do you want to have my baby, pet? Do you want me to breed you? Fill you up? Ruin you for anyone else with my cock?” 

“Yes!” You sobbed, although you were barely conscious of what you were saying, barely even conscious of what he was saying, another orgasm fast approaching, “Michael, please! Fill me up! I need you!”

“Then cum for me,” Growling, he brought his nose down to touch yours, “Squeeze my cock with that tight pussy of yours, finish for me, and accept my seed knowing that you belong to me now, understood?” 

“Yes, yes, yes! Michael, I’m yours, I belong to you, yes!” Your screams were echoing around the room now, but you couldn’t hold back, not when he felt so good, and this time rather than a boiling in your stomach your orgasm felt like an awakening, like you were being reborn. 

You came harder than you knew was possible and Michael quickly followed suit, pumping you full of his thick, hot ropes of cum, more than he had ever cum before, filling you all the way up. 

Whimpering, you sat up, and rather than letting you move away Michael pulled you to his lap and dragged himself to the wall to lean against once again, hushing your mewls with a kiss, “Good girl. That’s my good little pet. I’m gonna stay inside you, okay? Gotta make sure you don’t lose a single drop.”

Nodding, you felt your eyelids start to flutter, your head dropping to his chest, “Yes, Michael. I’m...I’m so tired.”

“I know you are, little one, I know you are. Get some rest now. No one will interrupt us. Rest, my sweet, and have dreams of the future we will build together,” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, pulling you impossibly closer to his chest, and letting out a happy hum as he felt you already drifting off, and before he did the same he whispered in your ear, “I’m proud of you.”

[kanerallels]

happy one-eleven!! four words: kanera, lost a bet.

Oh, heck yes!! Here it is, I hope you like it!!!

Pairing: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla

Word Count: 3,269

Tags/Warning: rated G (for a grotesque amount of Kanera jk there's no such thing)

This was why Hera didn’t typically get involved in bets. They rarely ended well, and she’d seen some bets her friends made go in some very crazy directions.

But this one had seemed relatively safe-- her friend, Ahsoka, had been racing against her brother Anakin to see who could drink the most shots of chocolate milk in sixty seconds. Hera had bet on Ahsoka, because she usually won this kind of thing.

However, halfway through, Anakin had started stealing the shot glasses Ahsoka had been about to drink out of, which resulted in Ahsoka throwing other shot glasses at Anakin, which resulted in him drenched in chocolate milk but victorious all the same.

And now Hera owed Omega, her best friend and roommate, a dare of some kind, and she was getting an increasingly bad feeling about what it would be.

“So what does this have to do with our bet?” she asked as Omega led her towards a nearby building. Even from a distance, Hera could tell it was some kind of bar. That, combined with the fact that Omega had convinced her to get dressed up in a dark blue dress (which she almost never wore). She had refused to wear high heels, however, or let down her hair, which she almost always wore woven into two braids. That was a bridge too far for her.

“You’ll see,” Omega said, her voice way too innocent for comfort. Hera flashed an inquisitive look at their other three companions, Ahsoka, and Merrin. Ahsoka gave a shrug.

“Search me. I’m just here to see the fruits of my loss.”

Hera let out a sigh as she followed Omega and the others into the bar. This is definitely not going to end well.

The bar was dimly lit, but fairly generic-looking, with tables scattered across the room and the bar to Hera’s right. The room was about half full, and there were four people working the bar.

One was an older man who was almost bald, with a neatly trimmed white beard, who was taking a customer’s order. A young woman a little older than Hera, with short dark hair, heavy eyeliner, and tan skin was wiping down the bar, ignoring the two men bickering at the end of the bar.

Hera’s gaze paused on the two men for a moment. One had short dark hair, combed neatly, and a seriously annoyed expression. The other man, on the other hand, had longer brown hair, his skin a light brown, and wore an easy smirk.

His eyes flicked up from his work and locked on her, and Hera realized she’d been staring, Feeling a flush working it’s way across her cheeks, she looked away as the older man finished with his order and caught sight of them. “Ah, Omega!” he said, his smile kind. “A pleasure to see you as always. How are your brothers?”

“Still unaware of the fact I came here on a date, thanks to you,” Omega said, giving him a grin. “By the way, these are my friends-- Ahsoka and Hera.”

“Lovely to meet you, madams,” Okadiah said, giving them a bow. “We’ll have someone to serve you in a moment-- is there anything any of us can get you for the time being?”

“I think we’ll be fine,” Hera said.

Okadiah nodded just as there was a crash on the far end of the bar, where the two men had been. Hera looked to see the short haired man doubled over with laughter as the one she’d caught herself staring at got to his feet, rubbing his head and directing a glare at his friend.

“You alright, Kanan?” Okadiah asked, a look of mild interest on his face.

Waving a hand, the man said, “Fine-- it’s not that funny, Dark!”

Dark didn’t seem to agree, judging by how hard he was laughing, but Omega was already looping her arm around Hera’s and leading her and the others over to a table before Hera could see what happened next.

They settled at a table, and the female bartender, who turned out to be named Trilla, came over and took their orders. No sooner had she returned to the bar than Omega turned to Hera.

“Good news-- I know what I’m daring you to do.”

“Reassuring,” Hera said, letting out a sigh. “Okay, let’s get it over with. What do you want me to do?”

“You know that bartender you were staring at? The one with the ponytail?”

“Wha-- I wasn’t staring at anyone.”

Merrin shook her head. “No, Omega’s right. You were staring.”

“Unhelpful,” Hera muttered, her face heating up again.

“Regardless,” Omega said, waving a hand airily. “I’m daring you to get his number.”

Hera’s jaw dropped. “WHAT?”

Ahsoka’s eyes widened. “Oh, this is SO worth losing to Skyguy for. You want Hera to ask out the bartender she thinks is hot?”

“I don’t!”

“You do,” Omega said.

Merrin let out a thoughtful noise. “He’s okay. I like Cal better.”

“Cal is literally your boyfriend, it would be weird if you didn’t,” Ahsoka pointed out. “Hera, you absolutely HAVE to do this. I’ve literally never seen you show interest in a guy before, and I’ve known you for three years now.”

“I agree,” Merrin said, nodding.

Hera let out a groan. “I-- you’re not letting me get out of this, are you?”

“Sorry,” Omega said, patting her on the arm. “But you owe me. These are just the cards you’ve been dealt.”

Sighing, Hera muttered, “You sound like one of your brothers.”

“Not a bad thing.”

“That’s a matter of opinion.”

Clearing her throat, Ahsoka said, “Not to be the Skyguy, but stop stalling and get moving.”

“Fine.” Reluctantly, Hera got to her feet and headed over to the bar, determinedly trying not to think about the three other women watching her, or what she was about to do.

When she arrived at the bar, she realized that the other bartenders were gone, leaving only the guy with the ponytail-- Kanan?-- there. I’m not sure if this is better or worse. “Hi,” she said.

His gaze flicked to her, and his eyes widened a little at the sight of her. For a moment, he looked incapable of speech, and Hera frowned. “You okay?”

A very slight smile tugged at the corner of the man’s mouth. “Words fail me.”

This was… definitely not what Hera had been expecting. Before she could respond, the man said, “I’m Kanan.”

“I heard. Hera.” Hera offered her hand, and Kanan clasped it. His grip was firm, and something about the feeling of his skin against hers… Hera tried very hard not to turn red again.

“Nice to meet you, Hera,” he said with a smile. Releasing her hand, he leaned against the bar, propping his elbows on the surface as he faced her. “So. Be honest-- your friends dared you to come over here, did they?”

“What-- how--?” Hera stared at him, stunned.

Kanan shrugged lightly. “I have mad skills. Plus, I spotted Omega pointing over at us, and there were a lot of covert looks in our direction. Also, I recall her saying last time she was here that she had a friend she wanted to, uh, introduce me to.”

“You’re kidding,” Hera said, and Kanan shook his head. “Ugh, that is so typical-- how long has she been planning this?”

“Aren’t all of her brothers either currently or previously military?” Kanan pointed out. “Cause that’s definitely a yes.”

Letting out a long sigh, Hera muttered, “I can’t believe this.” Glancing at Kanan, she said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to involve you in all this.”

“I’ve been involved in way worse,” Kanan said breezily. “Give me the details. I’m invested at this point.”

Grimacing, Hera said, “Long story short, I lost a bet with Omega, and she gets to dare me to do whatever she wants. And in this case, that’s… getting your number.”

“High stakes,” Kanan said with a totally straight face, and Hera rolled her eyes at him.

“Don’t mock me, alright? I don’t usually do this kind of thing.”

“It makes sense,” Kanan said, holding up his hands. “I mean, I doubt you usually need to, all things considered.”

Hera’s eyebrows shot up. “What exactly does that mean?”

She saw Kanan pause and look briefly embarrassed. “Oh. Well, I mean, you’re pretty… wow. I assume you have to fight off guys with a stick.”

A wave of heat swept over Hera, and she glanced down, feeling an absurd smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Pretty wow, huh?”

“Now who’s mocking?” Kanan grumbled, a grin crossing his face nonetheless. “I’m usually a lot smoother than this, you know.”

Rolling her eyes, Hera said, “Oh, I’m sure. But-- no, actually. I don’t date a lot. From what I’ve heard, my strong personality and ability to actually do things for myself tends to scare some men off.”

“Only idiots,” Kanan said, shooting her a grin that shouldn’t have made Hera’s heart skip a beat. But here they were, and she couldn’t help but notice how little space was between them. He was close enough that she could clearly see the bright teal of his eyes as they caught hers for a long moment.

“I’ve got an idea,” he told her, and moved back and away from her. Hera felt a moment of unreasonable disappointment, and hastily brushed it away. Don’t be stupid, Hera. Turning her attention back to Kanan, she saw him grab a pen and a paper coaster and scribble something on the back of it. “Here’s my number-- but I propose a bet.”

“I’ve already been tricked into one bet,” Hera pointed out, folding her arms. “Why on earth would I agree to this one?”

“Because I’ll give you my number either way,” Kanan said, sliding her the coaster. “Rules are simple. We stay here and talk for as long as possible. Whoever’s friends get curious and come to nose into our business first, wins. If you win, you obviously get my number, and I’ll pay for your whole group’s drinks and meals.”

“And if you win?” Hera asked, intrigued despite herself.

“I get to take you out to dinner,” Kanan said, a satisfied grin stretching across his face. “Somewhere a lot nicer than here, I promise you. Deal?”

Hera hesitated. Last time she'd gotten involved in a bet, it had gone badly. Getting involved in another one seemed really stupid.

But as her father liked to say, no risk, no reward. Besides, the worst that could happen would be her ending up on a date with Kanan. And would that be the worst thing in the world?

Brushing off the thought, Hera gave Kanan a nod. “Deal.”

“Excellent,” Kanan said. “Okay, in order to do this-- you might have to tell me about yourself.”

“Very funny,” Hera said, lifting an eyebrow at her. “But you've got a point. Where do you want to start?”

Kanan frowned, knitting his eyebrows thoughtfully. “Let's see. Favorite color?”

“I like blue,,” Hera said.

Nodding, Kanan said, “I can see why. It’s a good color for you.”

“Are you going to spend this whole time flirting?” Hera asked, narrowing her arms at him.

“Maybe,” Kanan said, a grin pulling at the corner of his lips-- and why was Hera looking at his lips?

Hastily redirecting her attention, she said, “How about you?”

“Green. Which reminds me, I like your hair.” He gestured to her braids, his fingers brushing one of them. “What made you decide to dye them?”

Flicking one of her deep green braids over her shoulder, Hera said, “It’s… for my mom. I lost her when I was thirteen, and she actually did something very similar with her hair. After a while, it just kind of stuck. My brother did the same thing-- it’s kind of our thing at this point.”

“I’m sorry about your mom.” Kanan’s deep voice was unusually serious, and Hera glanced up to meet his eyes again. They held a sort of raw conviction, a sadness that almost made Hera think he knew what she was feeling. He gently touched her hand, but pulled back again a few seconds later, giving her space.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice irritatingly shaky. Clearing her throat, she said, “Um, let’s see. What else?”

“I’ve got a good one-- what’s your dream job?” Kanan asked.

“Well, I’m going to school to be a mechanic,” Hera replied. “But ever since I was a little girl, I’ve liked the idea of being a pilot.”

“Like for a commercial airline or something?”

Shaking her head adamantely, Hera said, “Definitely not. No, just… being able to fly. It appeals to me, the idea of being up there. Anyway, I’m working on getting my pilot’s license. If I’ll be able to do anything with it is another story entirely.”

“I get the feeling you’ll figure something out,” Kanan said with stunning certainty. “You’ve got this general air of confidence, like you can handle anything. I admire it.”

“Hmm. I appreciate the support. Well, how about you? Dream job?”

“I’ve never really had one,” Kanan said, grimacing. “Let’s just say that my future hasn’t ever been something that’s been set in stone. I don’t really have your confidence, shall we say.”

“I haven’t always been confident,” Hera said, making a face. “I guess you’ve just got to find what you’re passionate about and figure out how to make a living off of it.”

“I don’t know how well that’ll go in my case,” Kanan said wryly. “But it’s not a bad idea. Next question?”

Accepting the change in subject, Hera said, “Well, I don’t even know your last name. Shall we start there?”

“Easily fixed-- Jarrus,” Kanan said, his smile returning. “You?”

“Syndulla.”

Hera regretted answering the minute Kanan’s eyebrows shot up. “Syndulla? As in the prosecutor?”

Letting out a sigh, Hera said, “Yep. Consider that another nail in my social life coffin.”

“Well, you do have a couple friends over there,” Kanan pointed out.

“Yeah, well, most people I meet are pretty convinced that I’m as rich and stuck up as they’re convinced my dad is. Omega and I grew up together, and she’d introduced me to Merrin. Ahsoka is… technically in the police academy, so she wasn’t very intimidated by my dad.” Hera rubbed a hand over her forehead. “And my dating life is… frustrating. I’m a little particular as it is, though--” she stopped abruptly, grimacing. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to dump all of this on you at all, it’s just--”

“It sounds to me like you need to talk about it,” Kanan said, his voice matter of fact. “And I’m happy to listen. I’ve been the object of many a drunken ramble-- and trust me, I’d rather listen to you.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Hera’s mouth. “Thanks. I think.”

“No problem. And for the record, the right people will stay friends with you regardless of who your family is,” Kanan told her. “I’ve been in a pretty similar situation, so I know what I’m talking about.”

Frowning, Hera said, “How so?”

Kanan hesitated, his expression clearly torn. “Uh. Do you know Mace Windu?”

“The deputy commissioner of the police department?” Hera said incredulously. “Yeah, my father has dinner with him and his daughter sometimes-- wait.” She stopped and squinted at Kanan. “Are you--?”

“His grandson,” Kanan said, offering what could be either a smile or a grimace. “Surprise. I don’t really talk about it a lot, but--” he shrugged. “We’ve all got family that’s not super easy to deal with.”

“Hmm.” Hera nodded thoughtfully. “Who would have thought our families would actually be so… entwined, I guess?”

A real smile started on Kanan’s face. “One could even call it fate.”

“Very smooth,” Hera said, and he laughed.

“Oh, just let me have this one.”

“You’ll have to do better than that,” Hera told him.

Leaning forward, Kanan locked eyes with her, their faces inches apart. Hera felt her breath catch as he said quietly, “Challenge accepted.”

Before Hera could respond, she heard a voice from behind them. “Hey, Hera?”

Kanan pulled back smoothly as Hera turned to see Ahsoka, whose expression was calm and blank, with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. “Are you busy? I can come back later--”

“You’re fine,” Kanan cut in lightly. “Although, Miss Syndulla, I believe this belongs to you.”

Hera glanced back at him to see him holding out the coaster with his number scribbled on it-- and she remembered the bet. Right. And I won. So why didn’t she feel excited?

“I’ll see you back at the table, Hera,” Ahsoka said quietly, turning and heading back to where their friends were waiting.

Taking the coaster from Kanan, Hera said, “Thank you. For-- all of this, really.”

“Not a problem,” Kanan said, but Hera could read the slight disappointment in his eyes. And she was startled to realize she felt the same way. It wasn’t every day she met a guy she might be interested in, let alone one who wasn’t intimidated by her and her father. “Consider your tab covered.”

“Actually,” Hera said as he started to move away, “I’ve changed my mind.”

Surprise flashed across Kanan’s face. “Uh, what?”

“For my end of the bet. I’m changing the deal.”

“Okay,” Kanan said, folding his arms as a slow smile started to grow across his face. “What exactly did you have in mind? Obviously I won’t accept just anything, since you’re changing the deal after the bet is over.”

“Coffee,” Hera said calmly. “Tomorrow morning, you and me. I’m buying. There’s a place two blocks south of here that sells the best bear claws. It’s called, unfortunately, Bake It Til You Make It.”

“That’s… kind of the best name I’ve ever heard,” Kanan said.

“The guy who owns it thinks he’s hilarious. But he’s a good baker.” Holding Kanan’s gaze, Hera lifted an eyebrow. “What do you say?”

“Yes,” Kanan said, giving her a crooked grin. “I’d love to.”

“Good.” Hera sent him a smile that she knew was different from her usual one. But there was something about this guy that was different. Maybe it was his easy humor or the seriousness and respect that was just underneath, or maybe even the fact that he was seriously good looking.

It could also be the way he was looking at her right now-- soft and kind, with a hint of curiosity in his eyes. It took Hera a moment to regain her ability to speak. “What?”

“Why’d you change your mind about the bet?”

Hera pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I guess I don’t want to miss out on what could turn out to be something… good. If you know what I mean.”

“I definitely do,” Kanan said, his deep voice holding something that sent a shiver up Hera’s spine. “See you at eight-thirty, in that case?”

“I’ll meet you there,” Hera said. Shooting him a grin, she added, “And don’t be late.”

“Well, you have my number if I am.”

“Very true,” Hera agreed. She held his gaze for another second, feeling her heart speed up as he looked back. Then she got to her feet and headed over to the table where her friends were waiting, grinning like a pack of hyenas.

But. She had a really good feeling about tomorrow all of a sudden. And a fluttery feeling in her stomach that hadn’t been there in a long time. Maybe it was a good thing I lost that bet after all, Hera mused.

[scabopolis]

😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

Hope that I do this properly 🙃

I would adore a XO between Veronica Mars (LoVe) & Once Upon a Time (C/S).

PROMPT: "I’m really competitive and drunk and I just told a rival that my relationship is way better than theirs, but they don’t believe you exist (but I’m too stubborn to admit they’re right)" OR really anything you'd like. Honestly, I'm dying to see Logan and Killian interact/co-swagger.

And / or another installment of "Come Rain or Come Shine" from In Lovers Meeting because I love it with my whole ❤️.

Thank you so much for doing this. You made my day,

😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

Oh @jjmazzy​ you bring my heart so much joy! I didn’t feel quite up to the task to do a crossover between OUaT and Veronica Mars so I went straight for a OUaT AU. I hope that’s okay? 

This is just a silly little thing that I am realizing only fulfills about 40% of the prompt, but I think it’s cute??

ANYWAY! Enough hemming and hawing xx *** Title: Of Expats and Onion Rings Rating: PG Fandom: Once Upon a Time Pairing: Killian Jones/Emma Swan (mentions of Robin/Marian and a smattering of other characters) Additional Tags: Two out of three of my OUaT fics feature Killian as a bartender, silliness and only half a prompt, probably way more fluff than is medically recommended Word Count: 1,500

Every Friday night, Emma Swan sits on the same barstool at the same bar in the same restaurant. This Friday night has her staring into space as she lets the sounds from the kitchen and the bar swirl around her. It’s busier than usual, with almost all the booths and tables filled and the bar area half-occupied. In fact, when she first walked into the bar, she worried there wouldn’t be a seat for her. But the bartender caught her eye and waved her over, a menu and a glass of water waiting for her in her usual seat at the end of the bar. 

Said bartender slides her an Old Fashioned, extra maraschino cherries on the toothpick per usual. 

She takes a small sip of the drink. “Why is it so busy?” 

Killian’s eyes roam about the room and then come back to rest on her. “Some magazine labeled us the best kept secret in Portland, Maine.” 

“And in doing so—”

“Assured that we would never be a secret again. Yes.” 

“The pitfalls of fame.” 

“Burger or chicken sandwich?” 

“Burger. Any chance—?”

“Aye, probably a very good chance, but only because Graham is sweet on you.” 

Emma feels her cheeks redden. “He’s not sweet on me.” 

“Sure he isn’t.” 

She watches Killian step away from the bar and into the kitchen to talk to Graham. How Graham can manage to listen to anything given the noise of the dining room and the kitchen she’ll never know. Graham and Killian both look over at her. Graham rolls his eyes but nods, and Emma raises her glass in thanks. 

“Okay,” she says to Killian when he’s back at the bar. “He might be a little sweet on me.” She takes a long sip of her cocktail. 

Killian’s brow is knit with concentration. “Long day?” 

She nods. “I had a run in with Zelena.” 

“Ah. The wicked witch of the northeast. What’d she do this time?” The ticket printer next to Killian’s till spits out a long drink order, but he listens even as he mixes drink and pours glasses of wine. 

“She got engaged over the weekend and hasn’t shut up about it. And today, she took great pains to ask me, in front of everyone in the faculty lounge, if I’d be okay if she didn’t give me a plus one.” 

“Bit rude, isn’t it?” 

“Right? But then she kept going on and on asking how long it’d been since I dated someone, and did I know that after 35, forty-five percent of women’s eggs are considered genetically abnormal and her fiancé is a very wealthy furniture manufacturer and she’s certain he has some less attractive less wealthy friends he could introduce me to and on and on and on.” 

“Does she truly want you at her wedding?” 

“Oh, yes. She said she wouldn’t take no for an answer.” She runs her finger along the condensation of her glass. “Which is when I did something very very very stupid.” 

“Smacked her?” 

Emma snorts. “I wish. No I—” Her explanation is interrupted by the arrival of her burger and the plate of special order onion rings. Onion rings which are technically available only as an add-on to the steak sandwich but that Emma has a 80% success rate of cajoling the kitchen to make her a plate of. 

She eats her meal with one eye turned to Killian, waiting for a long enough lull in the drink tickets to finish her story. She’s almost finished her burger when Killian slides another Old Fashioned in front of her.

“What was this very stupid thing you did?” he asks, leaning towards her. 

“I told her I was dating someone.” 

Killian remains where he is but she notices the clench of his jaw. “Ah,” he says. “I was unaware.” He seems to hear his own words as he says them because he cringes. “Not that there’s a reason you would tell me. I mean, we’re friends, but friends in that way that I get you drinks and —”

Emma rests a hand on Kilian’s to stop the rambling. “I’m not. Dating anyone, that is.” 

“Then why—?”

“It just popped out. I’m not sure who was more surprised, me or Zelena.” 

“So, this fake boyfriend of yours. Just who is he?” 

“Well, okay, so this makes sense when you remember it’s Friday, and I knew I’d be coming here.”

“Right,” he says, equal parts cautious and curious.

“I told her my boyfriend was British.” 

Killian shakes his head. 

ExPats has been her weekly haunt for close to a year now and while not everyone who works there is a British expatriate, with Killian as bar manager, Robin as front of house manager, Graham as chef de cuisine, and Phillip as pastry chef, it kind of feels that way.

“And that he had blue eyes,” she continues. 

“Ah, I see,” he says, teasing her. “Are you telling me you’re sweet on Graham too?” 

“Not Graham.” 

“In that case, Marian is likely going to have a big problem with you trying to date her husband.”

“And, uh,” she clears her throat, “I told Zelena he has dark hair.” 

Killian wings an eyebrow. “How dark?” 

“Uh, right about your color probably.” 

“My color?” 

“Probably. I said probably.” 

“Interesting.” Emma takes a sip of her drink. There’s a delicious, hazy feeling brought on from the second cocktail washing through her veins. “So, you and I are dating?” he asks. 

“Stupid. It was so stupid.” 

“I wouldn’t say that. I mean, I’ve been meaning to ask you out for months now. This might be just the little push I need.” 

“What?”

“What?”

“What did you just say?” 

“What now?” he asks in return, the picture of innocence. 

“You’ve been trying to ask me out?” 

“Not as such, no.” 

“Oh.” She sinks back in her seat, disappointed.

“I didn’t want to risk you running scared and not being here every Friday night.” 

Emma perks right back up again. “Oh?” 

“You already said that, love.” 

Emma looked down at her plate, the remnants of the crispy bits from her onion rings on her plate. Something occurs to her then. “Graham doesn’t give these to me because I want them. Does he?” 

“Excuse me?” 

If she’s not mistaken the tips of his ears have gone a little red. She loves his little elf ears. “He makes these for me because you ask him. Don’t you?” 

“I might have told him they bring you an inordinate amount of joy.” He scratches idly at a spot on his arm. “And that it brings me an inordinate amount of joy to see how happy they make you.” 

“Did you know my weekly ExPats date used to be on Wednesdays?” 

She can see him try to mentally adjust to the change of direction in the conversation. “Really?” 

“I only came in a few times, but then one week, I had parent/teacher conferences so I came on Friday. And there you were.” Emma shrugs. “Your Old Fashioned is better than Will’s.” She bites off one of the maraschino cherries from the toothpick. “Your smile is better, too.” 

“Emma, darling, are you flirting with me?” 

“What? Suddenly it’s a crime to flirt with my boyfriend?” 

Killian laughs and it makes her heart hum. She likes the clean line of his throat as he tilts his head back. “Your boyfriend? I don’t suppose you’d want to go out on a date with, then?”

“I’m free on Wednesday.” 

“Funny that,” he says. “That happens to be my day off.” 

“Is it?” 

Emma would be content to sit at this bar all night and let Killian smile at her and make her drinks. It seems like Killian is having similar thoughts, until something seemingly flies out of nowhere to hit him in the back of the head. 

Killian reels around to find Robin standing there, arms folded across his chest. 

“What’d you throw at me, you git?” Killian asks. 

“A dinner roll.” Robin gestures at the drink ticket printer. A ticket printer which has at least 10-tickets waiting to be fulfilled. “Pardon, Emma. Mind if he stops flirting with you long enough to fulfill the drink orders?” 

“You’re fired,” Killian says. 

“For the last time, mate, you can’t fire me. My name is on the lease right next to yours.” 

“Murder it is, then.” 

“Make the nice customers their cocktails and then you can murder me.” 

Robin walks away, and Emma notices it’s not just her at the bar who finds herself charmed by the whole display between the two men. She thinks she might see a small group of women sneakily taking a cell phone video, giggling as they watch it through.

“Emma, I’m sorry, but I—”

She waves him off. “Do your thing. I’ll be here.” 

“Yeah?” he asks, and when she nods, he beams. “Good, because if we’re in a committed relationship I’m probably going to need your phone number.” 

“Pour the drinks, you goon.”

[luckysliceofbread]

Genshin Characters Reactions to you having the powers of someone from another world

(Aka: yet another excuse to talk a bit about Honkai imapct)

Tw: talks about fighting but I think that was a given, swearing

Oh also just know that I’m barley ever serious, it’s not enough to be a whole crack fic buuuuuut...

Quick explanation/ the best explanation I can make about Honkai imapct and how the fighting stuff works:

People called Valkyries are trained to fight these things called Honkai beasts and use these things called “battle suits” to fight them, but there are the gods called Herrschers, they don’t count as Valkyrie’s but some fight Honkai beasts.

One person can have multiple battle suits and depending on the battle suits, they can control elements, there are no elemental reactions, but the elements are still in the battle suits.

I’ll assign you a random battle suit, with pictures of said battle suit and the stats, of course (Although the weapon stats are the stats of the weapons when you first get it).

Oh, and I should also add:

SP is like the energy that’s used for ultimates.

Some cost less than others some cost more. You get SP from hitting monsters and stuff.

Now onto the headcanons!

Prolog:

You loved Genshin Impact, playing the game when you felt like it, trying your hardest to get a good team and then build them up, you hated the constant grind, but you put up with it because you were having so much fun playing the game.

Recently you’ve heard about another game MiHoYo released a few years back, Honkai Impact 3rd, you saw a video of one cutscene from inside the game and immediately went to download the game.

Now you’ve been playing for a while and you’re also having a pretty great time there too, you’ve pulled for quite a few characters and found it fairly easy to build a team.

One night, you stay up to late playing Genshin and you wake up literally inside Teyvat. You soon discover that you have the powers and abilities of the Valkyrie you were building up.

Cool part is, you look exactly like the Battle suit, the only things you kept were your skin, eyes, hair colour and body shape, pretty cool that you somehow magically also took their fighting reflexes, fighting style, weapon and powers/abilities.

(No seriously, fighting like the Valkyrie does in the game feels like second nature to you.)

You spend a few weeks in Teyvat, and make quick friends with a few people, however you only tell one about- uh- this mess.

Albedo:

Battle suit: Stygian Nymph

Let me clarify that the more SP Stygian Nymph has during her ultimate increases her damage output. That’s why she’s op.

Oh wait that makes a lot of sense.

He knew you came from another world, you told him that

But to also imitate that person’s abilities?

How interesting

He studies you a lot, asking questions about the Valkyrie herself

You tell him that Seele (the Valkyrie that uses this battle suit), also uses her ‘other self’ to fight in battle, but you haven’t tried to summon her because you literally have no idea what would happen

Which is pretty reasonable

Albedo asks you if you’re okay with trying it out for the reasearch

You go “fuck it” and call upon your ‘other self to lend you their strength’ just like Seele does

It works, but you still have full control, no ‘other you’ sadly

You test out the fact that your sythe had turned into these giant floating claws and tenticals

You have SO MUCH fun bulling the hilihurls

Poor them

Then after clearing through many, many, many camps (listen this battle suit can solo anything), you remember Stygian Nymph’s Ultimate

You figure that you’ve definitely maxed out your SP and that the damage is going to be humongous

So you go to bully that poor cryo flower (I forgot what it’s called)

Albedo is unsure, but after you tell him that this battle suit has solo fought a god, a killing machine, a giant dog and more stronger things in Honkai impact, he agrees, completely ready to step in, only just in case though

You just run in, and Albedo goes to find a safe spot to sit down while he watches you fight for a while

He’s like ‘this’ll probably take a while’

So it took less than a minute

You used your ultimate when the boss slouched on the ground

That flower is very dead

You collect your rewards and leave

Albedo’s like wtf was that

You’re like idk man, I had a lot of SP

wtf is an SP?

Aether:

Battle suit: Herrscher of the Void

Side note: you also evade and float around like HotV I just couldn’t find a way to bring it up here without getting off-track.

This is the only acceptation to the ‘your eyes stay the same too’ bit

Your eye colour looks the exact same now

Aether looked you in the eyes and went ‘hey that looks like the person who kidnapped my sister’

He attacked you and you were like ‘Aether wtf’

You tried explaining the situation as calmly as you can while almost being stabbed

He calms down a bit and is like

“So, can you use her powers?”

“The Herrscher of the Void and that unknown goddess are probably not the same person.”

“Oh.”

“But I’m pretty sure they’re like, alternate universe counterparts?”

“Really? Cool.”

You joined his party after a few weeks of Paimon BEGGING Aether to just “Invite y/n, already!”

Paimon is getting tired of watching your semi-awkward interactions

So they hope bringing you on the team will stop making things so awkward

It kinda worked?

After gaining enough SP you used your ultimate, knowing that the missiles(?) couldn’t hurt anyone on your team

You scared the FUCK out of everyone

I mean you helped a lot but like

Give a warning please

Wait no he’s not mad at you don’t feel bad

Xiao:

Battle suit: Motolov Cherry: Augment Core

Let me tell you what an augment core is. I don’t know if they have a canon explanation because I skipped a lot of the HI3rd text, but it’s like a battle suit inside a battle suit.

They usually work similarly but in this case the battle suits aren’t very similar.

The way he met you was unique

He heard a ruckus around Wangshu inn and went to go see if it was trouble

It was but you were taking care of it

He was about to leave because you looked more than capable of handling this

But then he saw that you dual-wield greatswords (or claymores, as they’re called in Teyvat)

You were just flinging them around like it was nothing???

Curious, he stuck around to watch you fight from afar

Then you used your ultimate

Great, now there’s even more pink and blue paint every—

Wait what it all disappeared after the fight wtf

See, the thing is, you actually expected him to be there

That’s why you were clearing out any remaining hilichurl camps around the inn

But you didn’t tell him

So now your talking

You trust him a lot, considering you literally lured him out to talk to him

He sticks around, and of course he asks questions

“Are those horns?”

“Uh, I think?”

“You think?”

“How do you dual-wield strange looking claymores, and then fight with them like they’re regular blades?”

“They’re not actually that heavy.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you can hold one to test it out.”

He then dropped it on the ground, and fell down with it

Obviously it was kinda funny, but this is Xiao, so you try to hold back your laughter in order to keep Xiao as your friend

He then disappears out of embarrassment

You make a mental note to visit him at the inn sometime

Oh, and don’t forget the Almond Tofu

Venti:

Battle suit: Starlit Astrologos

Yeah she’s a support-dps

She’s my child and I love her

So it all started when you went to the adventures guild to find a place to stay

That’s where he heard you say “I have an anemo vision, but it’s in my coat.”

He surely didn’t remember giving you a vision, he’d definitely remember someone who looked as pretty as you

You got away with it and you were allowed into the adventurers guild!

Suspicious, he goes all like

“Hey, I couldn’t help but over-hear that you have an anemo vision! Let’s be anemo buddies!”

After he says that your just like oh no he’s on to me

You feign obliviousness, pretending like this man isn’t the literal anemo archon, and you agree

So you’re doing a commission and he tags along

Mainly because he doesn’t believe you have anemo powers and he waits for an excuse to come from you

“I’ll stay a bit behind and shoot a bit.”

“Ok, be careful.”

“I will.”

You dig your weapon into the ground, it made a musical bum sound

Wait do you actually have anemo powers

You used your charged attack and deal MASSIVE amounts of damage

And you use your normal attack to heal yourself when you get hit

He’s already amazed

Then a hilichurl is about to attack you from behind, but he can’t shoot it in time

Luckily, you dodge it in time, activating your ultimate evasion

Now, ultimate evasions differentiate from different battle suits

But the most common one is literally stopping time

But an extra thing this battle suit does is release a large burst of wind at the enemy who cause the evasion in the first place

Venti is so confused because he can move, you can move, but the hilichurls are slowed down by a lot

You yell at him to come step in the formation on the ground after time stops

So you continue attacking the hilichurls, and Venti makes his way to the small formation on the ground

The entire time he’s like

‘What the fuck, is y/n actually a human? What’s happening??’

Time goes back to normal and he steps in the forma— AAAAA EVERYTHING IS FROZEN AGAIN

Then the cherry on top to the cake of confusion was your ultimate

Hoo boy

Your ultimate is a giant formation with a tornado inside it

“Ok what the fu—“

After that you tell him that your from another world and about the whole situation blah blah blah

“So, you come from a different world, and then you took the powers of someone else from a different world?”

“Yeah, she’s like, really strong.”

“Is she a god?”

“Nope.”

“Then what are the gods in that world like..?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

“I wha—“