#okay so a few weeks ago my landlord came to talk them and there was lots of angry yelling in the hallway and me and my roommate could hear

[onedirecton]

No fr when the actual hell are my neighbours leaving……….

[artificial-transmutations]

Beating Recession

Recession sucked, that much was clear to Logan even before he checked his email inbox. When he saw a few replies to his job applications from the last days, he sighed. He didn't need to open the mails to know that the news was bad, but he did so anyway.

"We regret to inform you..." - Logan didn't even read on. He had lost his job as an apprentice electrician about half a year ago. The company was going under, and Logan, the youngest and least experienced worker, was the first to go. That's how it was in this business. Since then, he had applied to every single position that came up - but apparently, the current economic situation was so bad that nobody needed another worker.

Logan had hoped that his apprenticeship would get him a job, but the fact that he was only 20 and had not much practical experience hurt him. Slowly, money was becoming a pretty big problem. Whatever savings he had (for some real estate of his own! As if that was going to happen!) had melted away over the last months. His rent was due, and he had no income.

In fact, he was one month late with his rent already, and although his landlord had been cool about it, Logan did not see how he would be able to keep his apartment. He really, really wanted to avoid moving back in with his parents who had their own problems, too.

So, what was he going to do? There wasn't much more to do than keep looking for a job, even though his chances were slim.

He opened LinkedOut and looked for openings, just as he had done multiple times before this week. The sparse list of jobs had not changed, so Logan scrolled on.

He was about to give up again when a listing caught his eye.

"Escape unemployment today! Change™ job agency will find the perfect job, for the perfect you. Apply here!"

He had heard of such agencies before, and the results were not pretty. Usually, they just took the applicants' data and sold it on. They would claim to have found a job for you, but it usually wouldn't work out, and the applicant would have paid money for this useless service. Still, Logan was curious enough to click the link. If they wanted money, he would back out immediately - it was not like he had any to spare.

To Logan's big surprise, when he clicked the link, a new page opened, with a web-based chat interface. Before he could close the tab again, there was already a message in the window. It read:

"Kevin: Hey, and welcome to the Change™ job agency. My name is Kevin. How may I help you today?"

It was a nice surprise that they didn't try to sell him anything or even ask for his data before he had entered the website. Well, no harm done. He might as well give them a try. Hesitating slightly, Logan's fingers hovered over the keyboard before he typed:

"Hi. I'm Logan and I'm looking for a new job."

The answer came quickly, but not so quickly that Logan would suspect the other person to be a chatbot. After some moments, Kevin's reply appeared on the screen:

"Great. What kind of job are you looking for? And what kind of salary are we talking?"

Logan considered the questions. This was probably the point where they would ask him for his data. He silently cursed his excessive caution. Of course, they had to ask these questions. How else should they offer him anything?

"Uhm. My last job was as an apprentice electrician, but at this point I would be pretty happy about just any job. The salary should be high enough to pay my rent."

Logan hesitated before hitting enter. He didn't want to come over as quite so desperate, but the truth was, he was.

"Okay, no problem. Do you have a preferred working sector?"

What a weird question. Why did it matter what industry he preferred?

"Uhm, not really. I guess anything is fine."

"Very well. Before I look up what's there in our database, I would need some basic information about you. Namely gender, age, ethnicity and sexual orientation."

"Wait. What does my sexual orientation have to do with a job? Besides, why do you need to know my ethnicity? Is this even legal?"

Logan had typed furiously and pressed enter before thinking about his reply.

"I understand your confusion. We here at the Change™ job agency strive to find not only a job, but the best job for the best you, so we need to know what we're working with. It wouldn't be very appropriate to apply a person as an actress who is really good at sports, now would it? Of course, you have to understand that your answers are confidential and will not be disclosed to any third parties, especially not your future employer."

That was fishy deluxe. Logan really didn't want to feed some unknown job agency all that highly personal information. On the other hand,... what did he have to lose?

"Well, I guess it can't hurt. Uhm. I'm a male, 20 years old, I would call myself white and I'm heterosexual."

"Wonderful. One last question: Are you comfortable with nudity and public sexual activities?"

"Wait, WHAT? I mean, uhm, sure, I guess? I mean, why should I need that?"

"This question is purely to determine if we should also have a look in the adult entertainment section of our job offerings. Alright Logan, please stand by while I enter your data into our search engine."

Logan leaned back. He felt a bit uneasy about all that. But it was not like his answers could lead them directly to his apartment, so he felt relatively safe.

A minute or so passed, and Logan started to think that he had been tricked after all, but just as he was about to close the tab, a new message appeared.

"Sorry for the delay, I had a few calls. We found two jobs that could be a fit. The first one is an office job in a big insurance company. To be honest, it's not that good of a fit and it doesn't pay very well either."

"That's fine." Logan wrote. He was incredibly on edge now. Could it really be so easy to find a new job? And he even had a choice?

"What's the other one?" he added to his previous message.

"Okay, the other job is a bit more unconventional, but we have the feeling it could be a great match. It's an actor position in the porn industry, at the famous XXX Incorporated."

"Porn? What? Are you serious? I mean, I don't have anything against porn or nudity or whatever, but I'm not sure if this is the kind of job I want."

Logan felt mixed feelings. The prospect of being some office drone sounded pretty uninteresting and a low pay wasn't all that good either. But a porn actor? Logan had to admit, the thought felt somewhat interesting, but he doubted he had what it took for that? Weren't porn stars famously hung and well-built? That was certainly not Logan. Just as he pondered those thoughts, Kevin's answer appeared:

"I understand Sir. So, should we continue with the first job opening then?"

Logan bit his lip, but the curiosity got the better of him.

"Wait. What does the second job entail? I mean, I'm not exactly... equipped for the porn business."

"Well, as I have said: It's an actor position, so you would star in some new adult entertainment productions. While I understand your modesty, our records show that you are more than adequately gifted for this kind of job."

Logan felt confused. He absentmindedly scratched his crotch before he replied:

"Uhm, sorry, I don't think you understand. I don't really think my..." Logan paused. Was he really going to write that? It was embarrassing, but at least he could be reasonably sure he would never meet this Kevin in real life. So, he continued:

"... penis is big enough for such a position."

The answer came promptly.

"Really? Better have a look to be sure ;-)"

A winking smiley? That wasn't very professional. Actually, the whole sentence wasn't. Still, Logan couldn't stop himself from glancing at his crotch. What he saw made him take a double take. His soft cock was forming a visible and ample bulge in his jeans. Logan knew that he was slightly smaller than average, so that was ridiculous. It was almost a... a porn star-sized bulge!

He stared at his package, but it wasn't growing any smaller. With trembling hands, he opened his jeans. Immediately, a well-filled pair of boxers escaped the confinement of his jeans. The dick print of his soft member was clearly visible in his underwear, and it wasn't just much bigger than Logan remembered. It was among the biggest bulges he had ever seen in his life!

His hands explored the impressive manhood through his underwear and felt every centimeter of the hardening dick. He had no idea what had caused this growth, but he wasn't complaining. Before he could interact more with it, however, he noticed another message on the screen.

"Are you still there, Sir?"

"Sorry, yes." Logan hurried to reply. What was he going to write? "I was below average just a few moments ago but now I have one of the biggest cocks in human history"?

Instead, Kevin answered.

"Good! I trust you had a chance to inspect your assets?"

"Uhm, yes."

"So, have you made up your mind, or should I look into the office position?"

Logan was torn. He wasn't sure what he had seen just a moment ago. Still, his enormous cock that was half-hard in his boxers was there, undeniably.

"Let's go with the porn star position." Logan finally typed, and his heart was racing.

"Very good! Now, as I mentioned, the position is in the adult entertainment sector. Do you know the company XXX Incorporated?"

Logan thought quickly about it before replying: "No, sorry, never heard of them."

"That is not at all surprising, since they specialize in the adult sector for homosexual men. According to your data, you identify as heterosexual. I hope that won't be a problem?"

Of course, there was a catch. Logan had heard about these gay for pay people and he hesitated yet again. They paid well, supposedly, but...

"Uhm. Would that mean I would need to be on the receiving end?" He wasn't too close-minded and could imagine kissing another man if he had to, perhaps even receiving a blow job from one. But having another person fuck him in the ass? No, that was way beyond his comfort zone.

"I believe the technical term you are looking for is 'to bottom'." Kevin replied, and added another message shortly after:

"But the company is, in fact, looking for a 'top' actor. They put it like this: 'We are looking for a well-built top for our new productions.'"

Logan was relieved. While he was a gold star gay man (why did he put 'heterosexual'? That was utter bullshit!), he was a strict top. This position sounded better and better. Still, one thing raised some new doubts.

"Hold on. I'm hung like a horse, but I wouldn't say I'm very muscular or even fit. I'm not much of a gym goer."

"Are you sure ;-)?"

Again, with the winking smiley! Kevin sounded so very professional most of the time, but then there were these messages. Logan scratched the back of his shoulder with some effort. Whenever he raised his arms so high the mountains of muscle on his upper arms danced and made it difficult to reach his back. Logan suddenly realized that something had changed - again! His shirt strained against his muscular chest, and as he lifted his shirt, he could see some cobblestone abs on an otherwise flat stomach. His calves had become thicker and strong. His jeans, which had felt slightly loose earlier, now seemed to be getting tighter.

Logan had never been very athletic. His body was lean, but not fit or muscular. That had certainly changed. When he looked at himself, he hardly recognized himself anymore. A huge dick, and a studly body.

Logan shook his head and let the shirt fall again. Whatever was going on, it was not a bad thing, was it?

"Alright, so I'm a buff top with a big cock. Is there anything else?" he smiled as he wrote that.

"Actually, there is one further requirement, but given your cooperation so far I don't believe it will be much of a problem either." Kevin replied, in his professional tone again.

"And what would that be?" Logan was intrigued.

"The company is especially looking for a, and I cite, 'huge, dominant Black top with large dick. Intellectual capabilities are not required'. Are you feeling up to that task? ;-)"

This time, Logan immediately raised his shirt to watch his body change. As soon as he read the words, his skin began darkening, first a golden bronze and then a rich black. It was a gradual change but happened very quickly. His muscles became even more defined, and his body hair thickened and grew even darker.

He didn't know what 'intellectual capabilities' meant, but as his body grew larger and thicker, he felt a strange fog entering his mind. It was a little unsettling at first, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. His usual thoughts quickly became overshadowed by his raising libido. As he grabbed his huge, Black throbbing cock, a dominant smirk crept on his mouth.

He turned his attention back to the computer and typed:

"Yeah, baby. I think I can make that happen. Just tell me who to fuck and I'll be there!"

He saw Kevin reply with a street address and a date and time, but Logan decided he would read that later. Now, his cock demanded his entire attention. He absentmindedly noticed his webcam turning on but paid it little attention. If Kevin wanted to watch him jerk his fat cock, he was very welcome to. After all, he just helped him find the job of his life!

That's certainly a way to beat recession! Also check out this blog!

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Well, I’ve had a hell of a week. So far since last weekend, I have:

- Had a conversation with my roommate after which I became sure I would not be able to stay in my house. There’s been a whole thing for the last couple of months where my roommate is moving out and has tried to give our place to someone else, but I very much like this place (for reasons that range from good price and good location and it’s a good house, to I get too emotionally attached to places where I spend too much time) and want to stay here, and it’s long and complicated but basically I’ve had two months of being constantly stressed due to uncertainty about where I’ll be living in the fall. Then last weekend, I had a very confrontational call with my roommate – and I don’t do confrontation well – in which he informed that he was going to do something I had not previously thought of in order to give the house away, I was pretty sure it would work, got very upset due to the unexpected confrontation and due to the fact that I became sure I wouldn’t be able to stay here.

- Three days later, a couple of other people talked to my roommate, I talked to the landlord, a few things changed (including – I’m not saying my roommate will listen to men but not women, but when our male mutual friend made all the exact same points to him that I did, suddenly they made sense), and I’m now pretty sure I can keep the place. More sure than I’ve been for two months. The first time in two months that I’ve been able to lift almost all of that stress off my shoulders, and it’s an amazing feeling. I almost hesitate to write this for fear of inviting the worst, since nothing’s signed yet, it’s not for sure. Also I do still have to find a new roommate to cover the other half of the rent because his subletter’s moving out. But I can figure that out. It’s a huge relief to know it’ll very likely be okay.

- On Monday night, I accompanied my brother to one of his comedy shows, a decision I made partly to take my mind off worrying about whether I’d get to stay in my place (since I hadn’t yet heard the good news about that getting better). My brother convinced me to put my name in a draw, where whatever name they pick gets to perform in the one spot they keep open for that. My fucking name got picked. I performed stand-up comedy for the first time. I recited some shit that I wrote a while ago and have wanted to perform but haven’t had the guts to try before. It went much better than I’d expected, though that’s only because I’d expected it to be a catastrophic failure. In reality it went fine. People laughed more than one time, which wildly exceeded my expectations. Afterward, several comedians and several audience members came up to me to say I did well. Some were presumably just being nice (I’m sure “just being nice” also factored into the laughs, as I did immediately tell them this was my first time doing it), but they seemed to mean it, at least a bit. I think it actually was all right for a first time. Afterward I hung around the bar and drank with comedians and it was the first time in ages that I can remember having so much fucking fun without any part of it being difficult.

- On Wednesday, I went out to a live Celtic music night. This is because a couple of weeks before that, my parents went to a folk festival out East and saw a few of my favourite singers, and that made me sad, because I used to go see music all the time, and I stopped in 2020, and I’ve seen a couple of music things since then but not many, and I miss it. So, it occurred to me, there’s nothing stopping me from just starting it again. The day after the folk festival that I missed, I Googled folk music in my area, found a reasonably priced Celtic music night at a venue that’s relatively near me, that I’d never heard of because it just opened during the pandemic. I checked its schedule and it has a lot of stuff that I like, including monthly Celtic music nights. This sort of thing is part of why I care so much about staying in my place that’s downtown. Near my sport. Near my friend. Near comedy. Near live music. I’ve spent so much time staying in my house not doing stuff, I’m only just starting to do stuff again, I want to do everything, that is not a good time to lose my downtown housing.

So on Wednesday, I walked to this new music venue, and it’s so good. So good. The perfect size, big enough to fit enough of a crowd to bring in touring musicians, not big enough for the size of the room to impact enjoyment. Capacity of about 90 people, I think, and well spread out. Stage with enough room for a band with lots of instruments. A building that was clearly made with acoustics in mind, the sound quality was fantastic. And when I got there, I didn’t want to pay for the overpriced water bottles you get at venues, but I was so hot and thirsty from the walk that I decided it was worth it. So I asked at the counter for a bottle of water, and they told me I could just take a cup and fill it from their water cooler for free. I will be returning to that venue.

Then they played music! God, it’s been so long since I’ve seen that stuff live, I love it. It was a band I didn’t know, but was made of four people, two of whom I did know, from other projects they’ve done. Three were local and one from out East. They all knew their shit, played a bunch of classics and some of their own stuff. Stuck very closely to the “Celtic” remit (unlike some bands that will just define “Celtic music” as “anything with a fiddle”), explained the history of every song and tune, it was mainly Scottish and some Irish and a few Cornish songs. Was fucking beautiful. The show was just about to start when I got a text from my roommate telling me he’d spoken to the landlord and I’ll get more details later but I’m going to be able to stay in the house.

- On Thursday, I went out to a different comedy night. This is one I’ve been to before, a pub that runs comedy every Thursday just around the corner from my house. I went a bunch of weeks in a row this spring, and hadn’t been for a few weeks, but was pleased when the woman working at the bar still recognized me when I came in, asked me where I’d been. This was normal, she’d started recognizing me after I’d been going for a few weeks. What was less normal was that this time, the guy who runs the comedy night also went up to me, and asked if I planned to put my name in the lotto draw, the same type of thing that I did on Monday when my name got picked and I performed. The Monday and Thursday night things both have seven comedians who are booked ahead of time, and then leave open one “lotto spot” that goes to whoever’s name gets pulled from a pitcher.

I said no, because that hadn’t occurred to me, I hadn’t even started to think about how I wanted to try performing again, I’d only come to watch. Then I sat down, thought for five minutes, got back up, and put my name in. Because why not?

My name didn’t end up getting picked, but I enjoyed some of the comedy (not all of it, these nights can be hit and miss, but a few people were good). After it was over, while I was paying my bill, the guy who runs the comedy night came over to me again. He addressed me by my first name, which briefly surprised me because I’d not spoken to him before that night, and I hadn’t realized he knew my name. He said he was sorry I didn’t get picked for the lotto spot, but would I like to perform – as in be on the actual bill, not just in the lotto – on August 10th, in two weeks?

My first thought was genuinely that he’d made some sort of mistake, what with me not being a comedian. I asked him if he was sure, and he said, “Yeah, I saw you at [name of other pub, that runs the Monday night comedy], you were good. So do you want to perform here in two weeks?” I said yes, and thank you, and tried to seem relatively cool about it. Then I left the bar (after briefly apologizing to the guy who had compered the night for how quiet the audience was, including me because to be honest I’d been too distracted by wondering if I’d get picked for the lotto spot to laugh out loud much, but the compere was good and got visibly distressed about how little audience reaction he got, I told him he was funny and deserved a better response, and he told me that made him feel much better and my comment made his night, I’d been nervous to say that to him but then was glad I did, little life tip, if you have nice things to say to people you should say them), and walked home while trying not to shout out loud “I love this fucking city!” as though I was Jim Carry running across town at the end of a movie.

So... it wasn't just people wanting to be nice when they told me on Monday I'd done well. A guy who runs a comedy night thought I did well enough to put me on a bill.

- Last night, I went out for dinner with my best friend, hadn’t eaten in actual restaurant in ages, that was really nice. Hung out at my place afterward. Appreciated how convenient it is to live a fifteen-minute walk from a guy I’ve known for twenty years and still want to see all the time.

- Today, Saturday, I’m about to drive to Montreal to see Tom Ballard and Josie Long, two of my favourite comedians, in a fairly small room at the Just For Laughs Festival. I am so fucking excited. Beyond fucking excited. I am not even going to try to explain how excited I am, because I won’t do it justice. I’ve written a couple of posts about it already. I can barely even think about it. I still can hardly wrap my mind around the idea that Josie Long is a real person and will be in a room with me, even though I’ve been sent pictures she’s put on social media of herself since she arrived in Canada earlier this week.

- Tomorrow, I am being sent to the seaside for my health. I fly out to my grandparents’ home on Canada’s East Coast, my favourite place in the world (Canada’s East Coast in general is a place I love, but my grandparents’ house, out in rural Nova Scotia and right on the ocean, where they’ve been living since I was two years old and where I’ve spent a lot of time every year of my life, is my actual favourite place in the world). My parents have been there for a couple of months now (that’s how they went out to the folk festival that I had to miss due to not being in the area), and I’ll be joining them for a week, and then we’ll all drive home next weekend, and I start a new job on August 8th.

My grandparents won’t be there – they moved into a care home a while ago, and my parents love that house so much and have been trying to figure out a way to keep it in the family, but it doesn’t look like it’s going to work. So part of why they went down this summer was to look into the process of selling it. They did do that a bit, and nothing’s happening immediately, but there’s a good chance this week will be the last time I’ll ever go there. I hope it won’t be. Selling it might take a long time and I might get there again. Or it might sell immediately because it’s the best place in the world.

Either way, I’m going to enjoy this time there. I feel really lucky to have had all the time with it that I’ve had for thirty years, and I feel lucky to get to see it again next week.

So, that's my life update. Things have been rather rough for a while, but they're really looking up. Not everything's sorted out yet, but to paraphrase 30 Rock's Liz Lemon, I am hesitantly allowing myself to feel slightly hopeful.

[reasonableapproximation]

I killed a mouse a while back. Unpleasant details under cut.

I've had mice to deal with several times before. Once in a previous flat, I tried to do it myself with various snap traps and homemade bucket traps, all baited with peanut butter. The buckets were just cardboard boxes so they probably would have just chewed their way out unless I found them really quickly. But they never got caught in any of them and eventually they just left.

Then in this flat, a few years back. Ally and I put down snap traps that they didn't go for, then glue, and... I don't remember if it was still somehow getting past the glue, or if we got the landlord to call someone in and we just put down the glue while we were waiting, or what. But someone showed up, found a hole behind the sink and cemented it up. Put down a trap of his own (a black box with bait inside, not sure if poison or trap-trap or what, I think it's actually still there). But we didn't see it again, and he came back a couple of weeks later to check.

A few months ago we had another, possibly multiple. Again we put down glue and had someone come in, not necessarily in that order. He was useless the first time, but we got the landlord to send him back and I think he blocked something up and we were fine for a bit. (I wasn't in when he came this time.)

And then just after christmas I woke up to scratching, and turned the light on and waited, and yep, a mouse scrabbled out from next to the wardrobe under the door and out.

I didn't want to get the landlord to send someone again, because the landlord didn't know Ally had moved out. I had been their main support network, and they were now in a psychiatric hospital. (From what they've told me, they hadn't attempted suicide but had been thinking about it enough to check themselves in.) I thought it wouldn't be helpful for some to call them to try to arrange access to the flat. Also I was annoyed at the previous guy having to come twice and then getting another straight after.

So I ordered more glue traps. They arrived on 29/12 and I put them down. They were in the archway between the kitchen and the living room, where maybe there'd be no way for the mouse to get to most of the flat without going over them - I don't remember if previous attempts have backed that theory up. I put peanut butter on one, chocolate on another and cheese on the third.

I was sleeping with a rug blocking my door, so I wouldn't really know if it was getting past them or not. But the next morning I woke up and went to check.

I was scared to look. I don't remember that from before. We'd split up less than two weeks ago, I think I was still pretty fragile.

The design on them, under the glue, made me jump a bit. Like, I was so hyper-attuned to the possibility of seeing a mouse that when I saw a drawing of a mouse (or more likely, just any vague blob where I worried a mouse might be) I reacted to it. But there was no mouse.

Next day, new years eve, same thing, except there was a mouse. I screamed a bit. It had gone past the bait without touching it and then gotten trapped. It looked dead. I thought about calling someone but didn't know who - obviously not Ally, and the person who'd been my main emotional support lately didn't enjoy talking about killing mice.

I psyched myself up and went to step over it to get a binbag. It twitched when I got close. I screamed again. I crouched down to look a bit closer (still from a distance) and saw it blink. It also looked like it had vomited a bit, but I'd recently seen on wikipedia that mice don't vomit. Maybe that was some small hairs that had gotten pulled out?

I thought of another friend who's had to put down animals before. I messaged to explain what was going on and ask if she was up for a call. She was. She also said she hates glue traps, which like, okay but I probably wouldn't have brought that up at that precise moment. I explained that I don't like them either but nothing else worked and this at least would keep them out of the rest of the flat and she said fair enough.

(She also said they were about to be made illegal? I haven't heard anything along those lines. She's way more clued in to that kind of thing than I am, but she's not epistemically careful enough for me to take this kind of thing on her word. Idk.)

I was freaking out a bit, talking fast and hyperventilating, and she calmly helped talk through the options. I didn't want to hit it with a hammer because then I'd never use that hammer again and I didn't want mouse everywhere. I didn't want to use a knife, similar reason. We decided I'd put some cardboard down over it and step on it.

When I dropped the cardboard it started wiggling. Oh fuck. Deep breaths. I stepped. Through my headphones, I heard it crunch. Fuck fuck fuck.

She had me step a few more times to make sure, then walked me through grabbing a binbag and getting the whole thing into it without having to see it. She comforted me that it's natural to freak out, it means I'm not a psychopath.

I hadn't expected it to be so bad. I spent the rest of the day mildly traumatized. I was seeing family, which helped. I told my mum, dad and brother, but not my grandmother. They were sympathetic. We saw Wonka, it was fun. Then I went to the pub to hang out with people from reddit, mostly either strangers or people I hadn't seen in years. That was fun too, but packed enough that I went home before the new year.

I put down more glue traps and kept the rug blocking my door. The next day I was scared to look again, but no mouse.

I also ordered some steel wool that day. I had a guess that it was getting in where the person years ago had blocked up, where the cement looked a bit loose. I regretted not ordering it sooner, I don't know why I hadn't. I think partly I wasn't wild about rummaging around under the sink but like, what was my plan? Kill a mouse and leave it's way in open?

Anyway, it arrived a couple days later and I blocked up that hole and moved the rug. I was going to leave the glue traps there for a bit longer just in case, but around about now my bath started leaking into my kitchen (adjacent to it, not underneath). I didn't realize that was what was happening at the time, I thought I'd somehow just spilled a load of water, but in any case they were soaked and I didn't have any more.

I think for the next few days I was still nervous to look there when I got up in the morning.

I'm okay now. It was one of the least fun things I've ever done, but I don't think it was morally bad of me. Like, I could have done better, I should have got the steel wool sooner. And I spent 30 minutes freaking out while it was trapped, if I hadn't freaked out I could have killed it sooner which would have been better. But under the circumstances I wouldn't judge someone else for acting like I did, and I don't judge me either.

I think it would have been a lot more psychologically pleasant for me to go out and leave it trapped and wait for it to die. But I think that would have been morally worse, and I'm glad I didn't.

[jodilin65]

I sent a message to the honker saying I saw him in Arkansas, explaining that I saw a truck identical to his when I was riding my virtual bike there. He read it but ignored it completely. This guy does not want to be friends. It’s like he added me to be polite but doesn’t want to actually be friends. That’s okay, though, because I have a feeling we don’t have much in common.

I’m pretty much stuck in Arkansas. When I look at the map it always looks like I’m closer to the border than I actually am. Still have another 40 or 50 miles to make it to Missouri, though.

Tonight’s goal is to finish checking 2008 and having all of that posted to Blogger. Damn, though. The Jes pest, as I’d call him, really was a pest. Never before did I have a landlord insert their presence in my life like that. We moved into his trailer in April and by August I realized he wasn’t gonna stop coming down and bugging us regularly. I don’t know if he just wanted to keep an eye on us or what but he and his barking mutts really took the joy out of what peaceful country living was supposed to be about. We moved there to get away from people and we just wanted to be left alone yet he came down nearly every week. His place still beat Phoenix any day but we moved there to escape car stereos, screaming kids and dogs just have to listen to his dogs, his motorcycle, his bulldozer, and his fucking engine gunning.

Tom was pointing out that I’ve had fewer problems and more energy since dropping Galileo and teasing me about them having been a curse. I don’t know about that but I know that at this point I’m just gonna go back to the old-fashioned way (minus the virtual appointments you didn’t have decades ago, of course), and stick to that since that still seems to be the norm and likely always will. You know what they say about all good things coming to an end, and I don’t want to have an app like Galileo, as much as I miss the peace of mind it gave me, or something similar just to have to give it up in a year or two for what’s cheapest at the time. So I’ll go back to my original goal before I even knew Galileo existed and find someone local that I like and who’s significantly younger that can hopefully be my forever doctor unless one of us moves.

I’m jumpstarting my diet by slowly switching out the no-nos. I still want to talk to a nutritionist, but I’ve done enough research to get a general sense of what they’re going to tell me.

All the white stuff has to go. White rice, white pasta, white potatoes. When I say white potatoes I’m talking about the flesh, not the skin. if I want potatoes, they’ll have to be sweet potatoes.

I’ll have to cut back on sugar of course and be mindful of condiments. I’ll also have to kiss the creamy stuff goodbye and my sprayable Parkay “butter.” Pretty sure they recommend real butter over margarine. Since I hate black coffee, I’ll be switching to tea.

I resurrected my Facebook journal account deciding once again that it’s better to have something you don’t use rather than regret dumping it.

My calves have been pretty much zapped to the point that I should never have to shave them again. All that may be lingering are a few fine skinny little hairs here and there that are very short and very thin and very hard to see. I’m working on my right thigh now.

Coincidentally or not, since freeing myself of the toxicity, arrogance and stupidity up north, I’m back to getting tons of sales calls, even though they don’t usually leave messages. For a while, I had hardly been getting any calls but now I’m getting them every day. No biggie though.

[alexa4devilsxo]

"Okay, slow down there, Romeo." Ruby grinned at them. "That's personal information, and I'm not sure what you're going to do with that information. What if you suddenly fancy the landlord and the attention shifts from me? I can't have that. Already there's too much competition, I have to make sure you stay focused at least while you're here." Ruby took a pillow as she spoke, fully intending to hit Ella, but then just gently placed it on their lap so they'd be comfortable. Ruby wasn't actually a demon, she had manners. "Honestly, I think I lost feeling in my tongue ages ago. From the amount I chug, it's basically just fuel for me. But I will say... Don't try this at home." But it really was a week. There will turn a point in the day where she will swap from coffee to something stronger.

"It's everyone at this point because everyone keeps secrets." Even her. "So Dante, right now, is a fucking knife in my ass. You'd think he was some kind of saint for the commotion he had caused." A grunt escaped from Ruby as she put down her head on the back of her couch. "I am strategic." It simply wasn't in a way that they'd know. Her strategy was always to shift focus away from some people and onto others. Ruby didn't give a fuck about anyone else. Besides, the law enforcement in this town was fucking ridiculous, anyway. If they were any good, ATF wouldn't have been called. But it made her job easy. Not that Ella needed to know any of that. "Can you become some sort of potions master? Create a concoction that would make everyone talk? I mean, potentially I could contact someone in Colombia for Devil's Breath, but that's such a hassle." Would make her job way easy. With maybe a few casualties. Ruby smiled at the thought.

"That's good." She said at them going home. At least they weren't hurt. "If you start making TikToks I swear i will hurt your ass and put you in jail." A side not, but also a promise as it came from Ruby. "Maybe Dante fucked someone and left without a note? Revenge of the ex?" Her grin was wide as she looked at them. "I mean, that seems like all the drama, right?" Ruby poked their nose. "Secret information, silly. You don't tell me shit, I won't tell you shit. But if you want to tell me shit, I'm all ears. But even if you try to hide it from me, I know how much you hate the side of me that does this job. So it's a loss for me, really." As they weren't going to talk to her, no matter what their relationship was.

"A dance? Shit, how do I..turn up the heat in here? Do you have your landlords number, I just gotta text 'em real quick," they teased, eyes widening as Ruby took the coffee. "Damn, that kind of morning, huh? Are you sure you didn't just burn the skin off your throat? Or are you just really that tough? I truly admire it. I gotta blow on my coffee like sixteen fucking times before trusting it enough to reach my lips. Been burned too many times. Literally." They put a hand to their chest and gasped, "What do you mean all of you fuckers? How am I involved in this? I didn't even know who the fuck Dante was until they were saying his name. But you can't really blame anyone for not wanting to talk to a cop." They raised their hands in defense. "I know, I know you're not technically a cop but I mean all the same thing, you know? You have a weapon, you look for clues, you try to put away the "bad guys" or whatever." Ella was usually pretty vocal about how much they couldn't stand any type of law enforcement but for Ruby's sake had kept much of it to themselves. "But of course people aren't going to talk to you. You gotta be more strategic, tiny dancer."

"Well lucky for you I love to do plenty of what's not good for me. Yikes, that sounds like a nightmare. I went home, took an edible and went to bed. But yeah, I mean, it's the Tik Tok era people want things recorded, going viral, getting attention. Honestly feels like the only time people pay attention anymore so I can get that aspect. Why they'd want some butthole lawyer back? I don't know. The whole shooting shit was pretty dramatic but I mean it scared the shit out of me so you know, kudos to them, I guess. You trying to find these people or you trying to find Dante? Or both? Or is that top secret super cop information?"

[afeb]

Bucky Barnes - Salvation

long and kinda slow-burn :)

“Stay safe you,” Matt said as I walked out of the small bookshop.

“Always try.” I smiled back as I skipped down the steps.

I scanned over the books I’d bought on my short walk home, turning the first few pages and already sinking into the stories within. The streets were quiet, sun setting as I hurried home to avoid dark.

I finally stepped foot inside my apartment and immediately went around and turned on all the lamps. I detested the dark, an old habit I found hard to break, as I swiftly checked from room to room. I did this to make sure no one was inside, but in the back of my mind I only looked for one man. Books placed on the side, I was about to sit down when a heavy knock sounded from the door.

“Bloody hell,” I muttered as I walked over. I swung open the door.

Fuck.

Slamming it shut quickly my heart raced and face paled. I could throw up, or faint, and I considered doing both. How did he know where I lived? What was he planning on doing? I bargained that I’d never go to police, and I didn’t for that matter, so why is he here?

“Y/N?” The Winter Solider said through the door.

“I-I haven’t told anyone.” I said.

“That isn’t why I’m here.” His voice was softer than I remembered, he sounded...normal.

“P-Please just go.” I begged, hand still tightly holding the doorknob.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised. “I won’t even come into the apartment, I just need to say something.”

I peeped through the spy hole, making sure he was alone. He usually was, however, on one occasion he brought back up. That was the worst of times.

“Step away from the door.” I ordered, to which he readily complied and took two large steps back. I opened the door a crack, waiting for him to pounce. But he remained firmly planted in his spot.

Warily, I creaked the door open. He was dressed in black jeans, a navy top and a black leather jacket. His hair was cut short, his beard was growing out and he no longer donned the muzzle he used to in public. Gloves covered his hand. He looked completely normal.

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes, and I am no longer the Winter Solider,” he said. “Apologising to you is my way of making amends with my past.”

I furrowed my brows. “What?”

He gulped. “I...I did awful things to you, and I’m sorry.”

“Is this...is this a joke?” I asked, peeping my head out a little and looking down the hallway.

He shook his head. “I’m trying to be a better person, and apologising to you is part of that. I could also, do things for you?”

My eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“No!” He said. “No, I meant like...jobs or, I dunno...anything.”

“I’m so confused.” I whined as I rubbed my eyes. “Are you going to kill me?”

He shook his head. “No.”

His eyes looked pleadingly at me. He was alone, he looked normal and I could feel the truth drip off his words. After a long pause, I sighed deeply.

“Do you want to come in?” I stepped aside.

“If that’s okay.” He stiffly smiled and walked past me.

I shut the door and watched him. He looked around the small space, standing in the hallway. I had photos lining the walls, all of friends and family, and he took care to look at some of them.

“You can take off your coat and gloves.” He nodded and shrugged of his jacket, however, chose to leave the gloves on.

“Nice place.” He complimented.

“Thanks,” I had no clue how to act around him. He followed behind me as I led him into the kitchen, turning to face him as he lingered in the doorway. “I was going to cook some dinner.”

He nodded. “Anything special?”

I shook my head. “You could...join, we could talk.”

“That would be...nice.” He smiled.

I cooked in near silence. James took a seat at the small table by the window and watched me as I mulled around the kitchen. Chicken in, salad made, I turned to face him.

“It’ll be about half an hour.” I said as I sat opposite him.

“You’re being very kind.” He said.

“So, what is this?” I gestured between us.

He leant back. “The US Government has pardoned me, and part of that agreement is that I have to go to therapy. My Doc came up with a plan to help me...move on from my past. I have to go around and make amends with the people I hurt, or helped, and that means you.”

I nodded. “How many have you done?” I asked.

“A few,” he said. “I was...I was putting off doing you.”

I frowned. “Why?”

His eyes cast over to me as he took a shaky breath. “I...hurt you. In life changing ways, even if you forgave me, I could never forgive myself.”

I pursed my lips for a moment and didn’t speak. His eyes looked down at his lap, a sad expression coming over his face.

“I hated you,” I whispered. “I always thought in my head that if I ever got the chance, I’d kill you. But then I spent a while researching you, your past. What they did to you, how they treated you, what they made you do. And I realised, it wasn’t really you who hurt me, it was them.”

He gazed at me through his lashes. “Y/N...”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” I smiled, reaching over and taking his hand. “Water under the bridge.”

His hands flexed, squeezing mine. “Water under the bridge.” He repeated.

The gloves were soft against my hands as I peered down at them. “Can I see?”

His face grew uneasy as he shifted in his seat. “Um...yeah, sure.”

He peeled the gloves of slowly, almost waiting to me to stop him. The metal had changed. Instead of the bright silver I was used to, it instead was sleek black with gold details. He rolled his sleeve up as high as it would go, the infamous star now gone. It suited him better, I thought, complimented him more.

“It looks nice,” I smiled. “Better than the old one.”

“Thank you.”

“Could I?” He gave me a nod as I ran my ran over the cool metal.

It was really a work of art. Oddly, this one didn’t scare me. The other had felt my skin, brought me to the edge of death so many times, but this one? This one had only gently squeezed me hands.

We both jumped as the oven beeped, giggling a little as I stood and plated up our meal. We ate quietly, James complimenting my cooking one too many times. The evening drew on and soon James was shrugging on his jacket and lingering by the door.

“Thank you,” he smiled. “Dinner was amazing.”

I laughed. “I’ll have to cook it again.”

His eyes glistened with happiness at the chance of us seeing each other again. “I’d like that.”

I opened the door for him. “It was nice seeing you, the real you.”

He nodded. “I meant it you know, need a boiler fixing, walls painted, I’ll do it.”

He quickly scribbled his number in a small notebook and ripped out the page and handed it to me. “I’ll keep that in mind,”

“Bye.”

“Bye.” He danced around me for a moment before enveloping me in a short, tight hug.

Weeks passed and I didn’t contact him. I thought I’d be a painful reminder of his past and thus didn’t want to keep contact with him. That was, until my sink burst and my landlord claimed it wasn’t his responsibility. I’d tried hard to fix it myself, and the local plumbers charged ridiculous rates, so I found myself texting James.

To James B -

Hi! Sorry I haven’t contacted you before, been very busy! Could I pick up the favour you owe me? My sink has burst and I’m in desperate need of a plumber. - Y/N

I didn’t expect a reply, but he text back before I’d even put my phone back on the table.

From James B -

Hey! No worries. Heading over now.

I scrambled to tidy the apartment, dreading to confess I in fact lived like a pig most days. After a frantic half an hour, a knock sounded from the door.

“You’re a life saver,” I sighed as I opened the door.

James offered a lopsided smile, shrugging his shoulders. “No worries,”

“It burst two days ago, I had a go myself but I think I made it worse.” James set his bag of tools on the counter and opened the cupboard under the sink.

“Oh yeah, I see what’s wrong,” he silently set to work, laying on his back and doing god-knows-what.

After a while I went into the living room and read my book, curling my legs underneath me and settling down. James banged about the kitchen and a swear word or two later, he popped his head around the door.

“Done.”

“So soon?” I quickly stood and bounced into the kitchen. I turned the tap and stepped back, expecting water to drown my feet, but instead it simply swirled down the drain. “It lives!”

James chuckled at my remark. “A few bolts came loose and disconnected, easy stuff really,”

“Thank you James.”

“Bucky,” he quickly said. “Call me Bucky.”

“Thank you, Bucky.” I smiled. “Want to stay for lunch?”

“Yeah,”

We chatted mindlessly as we made sandwiches, Bucky telling me about his childhood. When he was the Winter Soldier I only heard gruff orders, but he had a voice that sounded smooth and sweet. His eyes lit up when he spoke of his siblings and parents, of a life that felt like thousands of years ago.

“You got a boyfriend?” Bucky asked, fiddling with the label on his beer.

I cocked a brow. “No, you?”

“No.” Bucky said. “I’ve tried these dating websites but...feel out of my depth.”

I nodded in understanding. “I abandoned those long ago,”

“I’m glad you text me.” He said. “I’ve spent the last few weeks wondering if you would.”

“Truthfully, I thought you wouldn’t want to speak to me.” I confessed.

“Why would you think that?” He frowned.

“I’m a reminder of your past,” I explained. “I can understand that even looking at me must be hard for you.”

Bucky paused for a moment and scanned over my face. “I see you as my salvation, not my damnation.”

I smiled. “I don’t think I said it before,” I shuffled a little closer. “But I forgive you, Bucky.”

His breath hitched, arm dropping to rest behind my head. “Say it again.” He whispered.

“I forgive you.”

Our bodies were close, Bucky resting his forehead against mine. I closed my eyes and waited for him to make a move, but they fluttered back open when I felt the moment slipping.

“I don’t want to push it,” he confessed.

“You aren’t.” I promised.

“I did bad things to you,” his hand stroked over my cheek.

“Then do something good.”

His lips pressed to mine. They were soft, softer than I’d thought, and he went slow and easy. I sighed into the kiss and pressed my body flush against his, my hands planting on his chest. His hand on the back of the couch slid off and looped behind me back, pressing me further into his as the other hand slid into my hair and held me close.

“Please,” he mumbled against me.

“Yes.”

Bucky eased me back into the sofa, lips still pressed tightly to mine as he eased between my splayed thighs. My hands moved up to fist his short hair, causing a quiet groan to escape his lips. Bucky’s hands held onto my hips as he gently, almost teasingly, ground his crotch to mine.

“Lemme make it better,” he whispered, trailing kisses down my cheek and neck.

“You can do anything,” I breathlessly promised, rolling my body up.

His hand slid down my stomach and into the back of my loose trousers, cupping my clothed pussy and flexing his fingers. I gasped and threw my head back, Bucky surfacing to peer down at me with hooded eyes.

“There?” I nodded at his question.

His fingers eased my underwear to the side and felt over the slickness he’d created. The cool metal of his hand ran over my burning cheeks and I thanked god for the relief of coldness in this moment. My eyes widened as his finger tips circled my swollen bud.

“So wet,” he murmured, gazing into my eyes.

“For you.” I whimpered back, cupping his cheeks.

“Me?” I nodded. “Good girl,”

I moaned again at his words, his fingers picking up their pace. My back arched as he eased two fingers into me, stretching me out. He groaned a little, muttering something about my tightness, before pressing his lips to mine.

“O-Other hand,” I said against his lips.

“What?” He pulled back, stopping his movements.

“Can you u-use your other hand?” I pouted my lips.

“Are you sure?” He furrowed his brows.

I nodded. Bucky removed his hand from my underwear, offering his glistening fingers to my lips. I hastily took them in my mouth, small hand wrapping around his wrist as I sucked. He momentarily closed his eyes, losing himself for a second before easing his metal hand between our bodies.

“Really?” He questioned again, playing with the waistband of my trousers.

I bucked my hips. “Please,”

I couldn’t help the loud moan that left my mouth as his metal fingers resumed his flesh fingers task. They rubbed tightly into my clit, causing my eyes to pinch shut and my jaw to slacken and drop.

“Such a good girl for me,” he cooed against my cheek.

I whimpered again. “I-I’m-“

“Gonna cum baby?” He asked, fingers increasing their speed.

I nodded and cried. “Yes!”

“Like feeling my metal hand, huh?” He teased with a smirk.

“I do! Yes!” My nails bit into the skin of his forearm, the other hand running over the smooth metal of his shoulder. “Oh Bucky!”

“Cum,” he shortly ordered. “Please baby, please cum.”

My head threw back and I saw stars. My back arched as Bucky wrapped and arm under me and held me close. He moaned softly into my neck, grounding his crotch against my thigh. My arms loops around his neck as I shuddered against him.

“S-Stop,” I begged, gently coaxing his hand from my underwear.

“Sorry baby.” He sighed into my neck.

We stayed tangled in each other for a moment before I reached a teasing hand down between us. Bucky quickly stopped me, sheepishly grinning down at me.

“I already...just then...” he blushed.

“Really?” I giggled.

“You have no idea how good you looked.” He whispered, pecking my lips.

I smiled warmly, stroking over his cheek. “Would you like to grab a coffee with me?”

He laughed loudly. “I’ll do more than that.”

[awesomerextyphoon]

Home for Christmas

This is my first entry for the wonderful @navybrat817​, @stargazingfangirl18​, and @donutloverxo​’s Happy Hoelidays Challenge!

Pairing: Chubby!Bucky x Black!Reader (Fem)

Summary: You got screwed this holiday season. Thankfully, someone decided to give you a break.

Rating: 18+/Explicit

Word Count: 2,211

Warning: Unprotected Smut (wrap it before you tap it!), Oral (f and m receiving), Fluff, Angst, Talks of Anxiety

A/N:  Not gonna lie, I feel a little intimidated by all of the amazing writers participating. So let me throw my hat into the ring, so to speak. Dividers are by the lovely @firefly-graphics​. Check them out!

Back to Masterlist

“You have until the end of the month.”

“Okay, thanks.” You could barely keep your voice together you were so distraught.

You lost your job and your apartment all in the same week. You had used up most of your savings paying your grandmother’s medical bills. Your anxiety had gone through the roof since you got the pink slip yesterday. Now, six weeks till Christmas, you have to ask (beg) your friends if you can couch surf until you can get back on your feet.

You told your therapist that your anxiety had spiked to uncomfortable levels. You could barely sleep at night and you’ve had trouble concentrating on simple tasks. It felt like the world was closing in and you were helpless to stop it.

You hoped that something would give.

  Bucky was coming back from an outing with Sam when he spotted you fumbling with your keys with tears streaming down your face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Startled, you swiveled your head, “Oh Bucky! How are you?”

“I’m fine. So, do you want to talk?”

Your lower lip quivered and the dam broke,” I lost my job yesterday, all my savings went to my aunt’s medical bills, and my landlord said I have to leave at end of the month!” you sobbed as Bucky pulled you in for a hug.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Bucky cooed as he rubbed circles onto your back.

“It’s not, but thanks.” you choked out trying to compose yourself.

It would seem that fate thought it right to mock him today. Brock got another compliment for his work and the love of his life was about to be on the streets.

Though Bucky shouldn’t be surprised that you knew next to nothing about his feelings with him being too cowardly to tell you. They first came ten months ago at a get-together Sam roped him into attending. He was enraptured by your kindness and sharp wit, plus it didn’t hurt that you were breathtakingly beautiful and your cookies were heavenly. The two of you quickly became friends going to movies, museums, and adult arcades. You were exceedingly kind and understanding even when Bucky showed you his prosthetic arm.

He wanted to go further, but he didn’t want to ruin his friendship with you.

Though, maybe…

“I was wondering, would you like to stay at my apartment ‘til you get back on your feet? It has three bedrooms and two bathrooms so you won’t be ‘invading or unwelcome’. I know you’re thinking about it.”

“But what about the re-”

“No. It’s fine. You said it yourself. You need to rest and regroup.” He was going to be fine, he was the CTO of SHIELD Inc. Both Steve and Sam have stated that he should move to a condo or a penthouse, but he’s glad that he never listened.

You nodded your head and sighed,” Okay.”

Bucky grinned, “Good. Though it’s not for free. Your payment will be in your ‘out of this world’ cooking.”

You giggled, “It’s a deal!”

  You moved in three days later. It was delightful to not have the threat of financial instability peering over your shoulder.

It didn’t take long for you to settle into a routine. You woke up around 7 AM, did some exercises and meditation, made breakfast, had a nice conversation w/Bucky, did some job searching, researched different recipes to try out, baked some desserts for Bucky to share with his team, cook dinner, had a nice chat w/Bucky over dinner and wine, and Bucky would do clean up with a movie.

Both Bucky and your therapist noticed your dramatic increase in your mental and emotional health.

Your aunt noticed how serene you looked when finally had the chance to visit her. She also teased you about Bucky and how cute the two of you would look.

You deflected your aunt in good jest, but she was not wrong. You had started to see Bucky in a new light. He was devastatingly handsome, sexy even. He was tall (6’3” / 1.9m), broad shoulders and muscular arms that you always loved to be enveloped in, eyes like the Mediterranean after a storm, luxurious dark Chestnut brown that was delightful to the touch, and a soft, protruding belly that was perfect for cuddling (though Bucky was insecure about it though). He was your own giant teddy bear who you would love to love (and fuck).

Maybe the two of you could be something more.

  “You have to tell her, Buck.”

Bucky groaned internally at yet another one of Steve’s interventions. He hasn’t been able to focus at work since you’ve moved in with him. Sam was constantly calling him out on it, and now Steve has weighed in on the issue.

“C’mon, you need to let her know how you feel. Otherwise, you’re taking advantage of her spectacular cooking and baking skills.” Sam exclaimed while biting into a Levain Style Toffee Crunch Cookie.

Bucky knew that he should say something. He was planning on telling you on Christmas Eve about the gift he bought you last week.

Now, all he needed was courage.

“She probably feels the same way, Bucky. There’s no way she would’ve stayed with you this long if she didn’t like you.” Sam added while going for his third Salted Caramel Brownie.

“I know. It’s just that she deserves someone better.”

Steve scoffed, “For fuck’s sake, man! You are smart, caring, and funny! Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You have a lot to offer!”

Bucky gave Steve a smile, “Thanks, Stevie.”

“Sure. Now move over, I want some of those brownies.”

  Christmas Eve dinner was going well.

You were able to visit your aunt two days prior to which she teased you about Bucky yet again. You didn’t dare to bring up the sex dreams and times you masturbated in the shower wishing it was Bucky giving you such sensations.

You were biting into your teriyaki-glazed salmon when Bucky cleared his throat, “What’s wrong?” you asked.

“I’ve been such a coward,” Bucky uttered.

You put down your utensils, “Bucky-”

“No. I-I love you.”

What?

“I’ve loved you since that get together ten months ago,” You smiled at the memory,” I saw this kind, funny, beautiful woman who was amazing and was willing to put up with a loser like me. I know that I’m not in your league-”

You stood up,” Bucky, you’re not a coward and you’re not a loser. You have been nothing but kind and understanding this last few weeks. You let me stay with you when I was barely hanging on financially. You’ve respected my space without expecting anything in return. I know I’m not the best roommate, but-”

You were cut off by Bucky enveloping you in a tight hug, “Thank you,” he breathed.

Glancing up at him, you whispered, “I love you too.”

Bucky gathered his courage and captured your lips in a searing kiss. The kiss sent a bolt of electricity throughout your body. After a few moments, you pulled away and licked your lips in excitement.

“May I kiss you again?”

“Please.”

  The two of you were a tangled mess of limbs once you reached his bedroom. Bucky ripped off your top and chuckled at your attempt to cover yourself,” You have nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart.”

You backed onto the bed with a grin, unable to hide your giddiness as Bucky’s eyes darkened with lust and the look on his face was not unlike that of an apex predator.

Bucky took things slow, wanting to savor this moment. He worked you from top to bottom at an agonizingly slow pace. Soft, open-mouthed kisses marked his path smirking in pride at the sound of your moaning and squirming with each caress.

“Bucky please,” you begged as Bucky made his way to your chest.

Bucky tutted in response, “Let me adore you, love,” as he covered your breasts with hickeys, pinching and sucking your nipples, relishing the sounds of your moaning and mewling. He smirked at your praises as he made his way to your stomach.

He made sure to give your midsection extra love and care, “Utter perfection,” Bucky murmured as he kissed a stretch mark near your hipbone. Your heart soared at the declaration. You’ve never had a partner who complimented you let alone give you the time of day let alone a partner who actually put your needs first.

And in such a delicious manner.

Bucky was about to go in on your thighs when you stopped him,” Please, let me,” you panted as you got off the bed and undid his belt. You bit your lower lip once you got back his boxers.

He was a lot bigger than you thought.

“You sure about this, doll?” Bucky asked amusedly taking in your raised eyebrows and a sly grin.

Nodding eagerly, you laid your head in his awaiting lap and gave his dick an open-mouthed kiss followed by a long, slow lick to his weeping tip.

You were careful not to go too deep, not wanting a repeat of that one Spring Break. “Fuck, doll,” Bucky praised as you worked his dick like a lollipop. You alternated between playing with his balls and sucking on what you could fit in your mouth.

Bucky bellowed when you lightly scraped him with your teeth. He never thought that someone like you would give him the time of day. Ever since Bucky left the Army, it seemed that no one would even look at him, even before they knew about the prosthetic left arm. He was about to give up all hope of finding anyone who accepts him when you came into his life. You were his light, but you were not afraid to be imperfect. He could be vulnerable with you in a way that he has never been with anyone, even Stevie.

You continued your ministrations for a couple more minutes until Bucky gently tugged your hair, “Sorry doll, I won’t make it if keep workin’ me like this, and I want to give you my first gift this evening.”

You pouted but relented as Bucky motioned you back to the bed. You parted your legs and moaned when Bucky gave your slit a long, slow lick after kissing and nipping your inner thighs.

“Better than any baked good. Fuck! I could get addicted to this!” You giggled at the statement loving the praise.

Bucky attacked your folds with a masterfully executed battle plan. He switched between licking and sucking your clit with insane precision, scissoring your folds with his thick fingers (sometimes metal ones), and playing with your juices.

You were on Cloud Nine. Each of his movements sent wave after wave of euphoria throughout your body. Bucky’s tongue and fingers made your hair stand on end and bolts of electricity shot through your veins and danced along your skin. You grabbed a fistful of his luxurious hair and arched your back towards him.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” Bucky rumbled.

The dam broke.

“Bucky!” you shouted as Bucky lapped up your juices and crawled up to caress your face.

“You sure you want this, doll?” Bucky asked.

“Please Bucky,” You begged as he pushed himself into you inch by inch pausing once he filled you.

“So fucking tight!” Bucky breathed huskily.

“Bucky. I. Need. You.” You murmured between kisses to his neck and jaw. He started out at a slow pace, making sure you were used to his size but he intensified his thrusts once you began moaning in pleasure and begged him to go harder.

Each thrust hit you just right, sending you higher and higher, but Bucky made sure not to send you over the edge (not yet). He decided to add to your sweet, sweet torture by kissing your neck, shoulders, and collarbone. You didn’t know how much you could take, but at the same time, you didn’t want to end.

Thankfully, Bucky heard your mental pleas. He worked your clit and you came with another shout as he nipped the juncture between your neck and collarbone. Bucky came soon after with a primal roar.

Laying on Bucky’s bed and looking out the window, you saw a thick yet gentle snowfall. You were about to make a nice (if not a little snarky) Christmas remark when you felt a weight on your chest. Casting your eyes downward you found a silver snowflake on a thick silver chain with sapphires in the middle and on each of its six points. It was beautiful.

You nearly swiveled your head in shock. “Bucky you di-”

Bucky caressed your cheek and kissed you, “You’ve been so kind to me since we’ve met and I wanted to give you something as wonderful as you.”

“Well, since you put that way. I guess you’ll have to wait until tomorrow for your present.” you teased.

Bucky snaked his right arm around your midsection, “It might not be ‘til Noon at best. I’m gonna need another round.” he crooned as he kissed your neck.

Part of you wondered what the hell all those people were thinking when they didn’t give Bucky a second glance. Well, it matters not. Bucky was yours and you would be damned before you let him go.

Taglist: @giorno-plays-piano​ @lookiamtrying​ @jtargaryen18​ @sapphirescrolls​ @jobean12-blog​ @sweeterthanthis​ @gotnofucks​ @mculibrary​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @golden-ariess​ @navegandoaciegas​ @stargazingfangirl18​ @opheliadawnwalker3​ @tilltheendwilliwrite​ @imanuglywombat​ @bucky-the-thigh-slayer​ @navybrat817​ @anyatheladyclown​ @buckysbunny​ @nacho-bucky​ @donutloverxo​ @stephanieromanoff​ @threeminutesoflife​ @angrybirdcr​ @angrythingstarlight​ @chixkencxrry​ @hurricanerin​ @marvelfansworld @the-soulofdevil​ @captain--barnes​ @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ @thebanprincess​ @winteralpine​ @leslie2898​ @buttercandy16​ @propertyofpoeandbucky​ @hevans-angel

[cal-kestis]

If I Could Never Give You Peace

(Javier Peña x Female Reader)

Gif by @pedropcl​ [original gifset]

Summary: Two years after resigning from the DEA, Javi finds himself in Los Angeles, haunted by glares of gunshots and blood-stained hands. He’d succumbed to the idea that he’d never have peace — doesn’t deserve it after everything he did in Colombia. Then, she moves in next door and maybe, he thinks, things could be different. “I hope this doesn’t scare you,” she whispers, her fingers still tracing shapes over his head. “But I care about you, Javi, a lot. I think I could fall in love with you someday...” She exhales, a quiet, shaky sound. “I think I’ve already started.” Word Count: 4,357 A/N: A Reader-insert one-shot with a nameless female reader. No “Y/N” or "you," but the reader can be anyone. Inspired heavily by Taylor Swift’s “Peace.” How many TS references can you find? Lol. Tags: Fluff, Angst (with a happy ending), Mentions of death (but no one dies, I promise), Alcohol, Cigarettes

[Read on AO3]

The rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me... All these people think love’s for show, but I would die for you in secret... Would it be enough, if I could never give you peace? — Taylor Swift, Peace —

When Javier Peña handed in his DEA badge and gun two years ago, he knew he couldn’t stay in Texas. Not forever.

Texas held too many familiar faces, old friends calling him a hero when he felt like a villain. It held too many ties to an old version of himself he’d rather not remember… muddied images of him with a beautiful woman, an abandoned altar, and a shattered promise. No, he couldn’t stay. Not even for his father.

So, Javier Peña and the unwelcomed overcast of his nightmares found a one-bedroom apartment in sunny Los Angeles.

In time, he realized he needed the city: constant motion, endless traffic, and hoards of busy people who would never remember his face. He could blend in. He could be alone.

He could have a clean slate.

But each night, glares of gunshots flashed behind his eyelids and invisible bloodstains marred his calloused palms as if to remind him:

He could never have peace.

Then, she moved in next door.

The first time he saw her, he only caught a glimpse. She and her boyfriend, he assumed, held towering stacks of brown boxes in front of their faces — sweating as they lugged the dusty weight into the empty space.

For a moment, he considered offering some neighborly help but decided against it — When have you ever cared about being a good neighbor, Javi? — closing himself in his quiet apartment with a glass of whiskey.

The second time he saw her, she came knocking on his door the next night.

“Hi, neighbor,” she smiled brilliantly. And for a split second, he swore he felt something foreign flutter in his stomach, but dismissed it as the after-effects of spoiled dinner. “I just moved in next door and wanted to introduce myself.”

He could not take his eyes off her. His gaze stayed glued to a small bead of sweat trailing a slow path down from her hairline, where she’d pulled it back with a makeshift scarf-headband. The droplet slipped down her cheekbone, over a smudge of dust that had settled in from her moving boxes. It drifted down the curve of her jaw, dipping into the slope of her neck until finally hiding away below her tank top. And by some miracle, she only needed to repeat her name for him once before he came out of the trance.

“Sorry.” He gulped, removing the cigarette dangling from his lips. “Javier.”

He extended his hand and she met him halfway. Soft. So soft.

“Good to meet you, Javier.” She smiled again. Flutter. “I’m sure you’re busy. Just wanted to say hi. I’ll see you around.”

And just like that, she swiftly turned on her heel to walk the few steps back to her door, bare feet strutting off, flaunting her daisy dukes, and — God help him, he’s a man and she’s beautiful — he stared.

The nail in the coffin?

When she opened her door and gave him one last smile over her shoulder, she winked.

No, he could never have peace.

—

After that, he hardly ever sees her.

Part of him feels relieved, unduly wary of the strange flutter he’d feel just thinking of her name. The other part, the traitorously curious part, dreams of catching another glimpse of her glistening skin or a quarter note of her honeyed voice. He’ll never admit it out loud, but he finds himself often wondering if her boyfriend gets to enjoy her sun rays and melodies. Lucky bastard.

He blames his roaming thoughts on the fact that it’s… been a while.

This is what you wanted, he’d remind himself when he’d wake to an empty bed — a stark contrast to his time in Colombia. This is the way things should be.

Just when he starts to believe those words, he finds her crumpled on the floor in front of her apartment — the contents of her purse strewn across the hardwood beside her, palms pressed firmly against her eyes. One tiny sniffle and a tremble of her shoulders, and he melts into a puddle beneath her muddy sneakers.

“Hey,” he whispers tentatively, voice raspy with cigarette smoke.

She jolts at the sound, immediately wiping her face with her sleeves and plastering on a saccharine smile.

“Javier,” she tries to say, but her voice breaks on the vowels. “Sorry, I was just— rough day. And to top it off, I think I left my keys inside. I tried Jerry but no luck.”

“Jerry’s a shit landlord,” he sighs, earning a nod from her. He takes out an old, faded receipt from his pocket and kneels in front of her, finding a pen amongst her spilled belongings. “Try this number. He’s usually fast. Can get you back in your apartment tonight.”

He hands her the scribbled receipt and she takes it with a real smile, albeit small. “Thank you, Javier.”

He nods, a tiny dimple forming in one tanned cheek, before getting up to unlock his apartment. The door clicks but he stands there for a moment longer, listening to her waning sniffles as she throws her things back into her bag. His eyes screw shut tightly, a silent war waging behind his forehead, his fingertips feebly trying to rub it away.

He sighs long and heavy when he realizes which part of him has won.

“Would you... like to come inside my place while you wait?” He mutters, mainly to the floorboards. “I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”

“Okay.” Her smile is warm like the sun, despite the cloud of tears still glazed over her eyes. “But you don’t strike me as a cream and sugar kind of guy.”

“No,” he admits with an amused smirk. “But I’ve got some old whiskey, older milk, and a phone you can use, toll-free.”

“Thanks, Javier,” she sniffles. “Coffee sounds nice. But hold the booze and tainted milk.”

And that’s how she ends up in his apartment, sitting at his small dining table, slowly sipping from his coffee mug, using his landline to call the locksmith.

Maybe it’s the caffeine or the three (stolen) pink packets of sugar she found in her purse (“It’s not stealing. Diners offer dozens of them in cute little boxes, I mean practically gift-wrapped, and I modestly accepted three.”), but coffee gets her talking the way alcohol coaxes even the darkest secrets from iron-barred lips. She just broke up with her boyfriend. Or he broke up with her — found some younger, hotter-than-her aspiring actress in Hollywood and left her in the dust of the boxes she’d just unpacked.

“Sorry,” she whispers. “You’ve been so nice. Really, Neighbor of the Year,” she laughs, but he thinks it sounds off. He wants to hear the real thing. “And here I am, taking up your space, drinking your coffee, and dumping all my problems on the table. Tell me if I’m talking too much, Javier. I tend to—”

“Javi,” he says, furrowing his brows as if mildly stunned by the two syllables he just spoke. She looks confused. “You can... call me Javi, for short. And I don’t mind listening.”

“Javi,” she tests the name on her tongue, smiles. His stomach flutters. “A good name for a good guy.”

The argument dies on his tongue the minute he thinks it, even though she’s horribly, terribly wrong.

Sometimes you gotta do bad things to catch bad people.

If she knew...

“I should be out of your hair in 20 minutes anyway,” she says, breaking him out of his dark reverie. “Locksmith’s on his way.”

When she finally gets back into her own apartment, Javi jostles her doorknob, double-checks the lock, and knocks on wood for good measure.

“Find your keys?”

“Got ‘em!” She chirps, jingling her lost keys. “I’m gonna have to memorize that number.”

“I’m next door, too, if you ever need anything.”

“Me too. I can lend you some sugar for your sad-man, bitter coffee,” she jokes. “Thanks again, Javi.”

He sends her a tight-lipped smile and a short nod, a familiar weight settling in his chest as he turns back to his lonely apartment.

“Would you like to come in for dinner?” She asks, quiet and suddenly timid. “I’m no chef, but I’ve never made a spaghetti I couldn’t tolerate.”

He opens his mouth to refuse but she beats him to the punch. “It’s the least I can do after you helped me out. Please?”

And it’s the way she asks that gets him. The way “please” seems to fall from her lips like an unanswered prayer. He wonders, maybe she’s just as lonely as him.

So, he walks into her apartment, she smiles, and his stomach flips.

—

Months pass by with this new routine. He joins her for dinner at least once a week, if their schedules allow. If not at the local diner where she infamously loots sugar, it’s usually at her place. For one thing, although it’s usually pasta, she tends to have more appetizing (read: edible) groceries stocked up than him. But if he’s being honest, something about her apartment just feels more like… a home.

Framed smiles of her and her loved ones line the walls. With each visit, he finds himself studying a new one, imagining the story behind each snapshot. (He noticed after their first dinner, she’d thrown out the photos of her ex, replacing them with Polaroids of the city.) Piles of pillows stack up neatly on her couch, vibrant hues and patterns decorating the space. He adores the soft waves of music always floating around her space. She plays a different record each time, but somehow, each one compliments the sweet tones of her voice perfectly.

Her place feels brighter than his too, and he’s not sure if it’s the east-facing windows or if it’s just her.

Soon, he doesn’t need to decode the photos on the walls anymore. She tells him more than she’s told anyone before — about her hometown, her family, what she studied in college, her travels, her favorite books, her irrational fears, her dreams.

He tells her considerably less, especially when it comes to his time in Colombia.

For now, she doesn’t mind. She likes the way he watches her when she talks — brown eyes soft and warm, brows pinched together as he takes in each word, the ghost of a grin tugging at one corner of his lips when she gestures dramatically.

He realizes, one night after dinner, he comes home smiling now. And he thinks the nightmares have started dwindling, ever since that first dinner.

Maybe, he lets himself imagine. Things could be different.

—

He calls for you over and over, shouting until his throat burns and the echo of his frantic voice pounds in his ears.  

“Where are you?” He screams.  

The narrow hallway is dark, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. He crushes his body into the hard wall, arms sliding roughly against cold brick as he tries to keep himself concealed. The gun in his hand feels icy and impossibly heavy, and his arms tremble as they lift the weapon higher, rounding the corner.

“Llegas tarde, Peña,” a deep, gravelly voice sneers. “You’re too late.”

“Tómame!” Javier yells. “Tómame en su lugar.”

“You would die for her?” The voice chuckles. “Llegas tarde.”

The voice’s shadow moves, revealing a smaller shadow crumpled on the floor — lifeless.

“Javier! Javier!” A distant voice chants, accusing him. Boom! Blaming him. Boom!

“Javier!” Boom!

The pounding sound wakes him up with a jolt, and his sweat-slicked chest rapidly rises and falls as he reaches for the gun inside his bedside table.

Slowly, Javier creeps to the front door where the loud pounding started. But when he peers into the peephole, he only finds her — looking as tired and distressed as he feels. A wave of relief floods through his overheated body.

She’s wrapped up in a blanket, a worried look wrinkling her forehead.

He puts his gun down in a drawer and lets her in.

“What time is it?” He asks.

“Almost 4 in the morning.”

“What’s wrong?” He demands, suddenly worried about why she’d be waking him this early.

“You tell me,” she says, frown lines still etched by her eyes — mirroring his own tired marks. “I heard you yelling. I was worried, Javi.”

“It was...” he starts, squinting as the images flash in his mind again. “Just a dream.”

It only takes one glance into his eyes for her to reach out to him, pulling him in by his neck until he nuzzles into hers.

He breathes her in, holds her like he’s not sure she’s real, like she might be gone tomorrow. “It was just a dream,” he echoes, but he’s not sure who he’s trying to convince.

“It was just a dream,” she repeats after him.

She pulls him by his hand toward his couch, sitting down before patting the space beside her. And just this once, he allows himself to let his head rest in her lap, lets her drape her fuzzy blanket over him, lets her soft fingers draw slow circles in his hair, lets her lull him to sleep with mumbled whispers he can’t quite make out, and lets her ward off the lurking darkness like a nightlight.

He’s asleep before he can hear the quiet secret that spills from her lips.

“I hope this doesn’t scare you,” she whispers, her fingers still tracing shapes over his head. “But I care about you, Javi, a lot. I think I could fall in love with you someday...” She exhales, a quiet, shaky sound. “I think I’ve already started.”

She comes over to his apartment more frequently after that. Whether to bring him dinner or just sit on his couch in comfortable silence, she doesn’t like to leave him alone.

And maybe, she’d rather not be alone either.

—

He doesn’t remember how she convinced him, but here he is... sitting at a crowded bar drinking water, watching his tipsy neighbor bouncing alone on the small dance floor.

Every so often, some cocky drunk comes up to put his hands on her waist and tries to dance with her, but she plasters on a faux smile and shakes her head at them, muttering something while nodding in Javier’s direction. Each time, they sulk away and he chuckles.

Finally, she bounces over to him, tugging at the sleeve of his leather jacket.

“Dance with me, Javi. Please,” she draws out the word, an octave higher than normal.

And despite himself, he follows her voice like a sailor enthralled by a siren’s song.

She puts her arms around his neck, swaying her body against his. And then she shouts over the music, “I’m so glad we’re friends.”

And the heart on his sleeve falls straight to the floor, clanging loudly in his ears like metal.

‘Friends’ is more than you deserve, he reminds himself.

But then she continues, resting her head against his chest, her index finger coming up to tap a tantalizingly slow beat over his collarbone. “Good friends,” she sighs, lifting her gaze until her chin digs into his heart, her lips just inches from his. “Really… good… friends.”

She’s kissing him before he can even process the feeling. And despite his better judgment, he lets her. She’s everything warm and soft and good, with just a hint of alcohol — and he’s what you get when you turn those words upside down, jumble the letters, and crumple the paper into a jagged ball. But he craves the way her curves somehow fit perfectly against his cold, shattered edges. And he knows he shouldn’t.

So, when he feels her tongue trace along the seam of his mouth, he gently pulls away, hands rubbing soothing circles on her shoulders.

“You’ve had too much to drink, cariño,” he says. “Let’s go home.”

“Okay,” she whispers, smiling with half-lidded eyes, drawing her finger across his mustache then below his ever-pouting lip.

She’s passed out in his car by the time they’re back home. When he unlocks her apartment door for her, she stays latched onto his arm as he turns to leave.

“Stay,” she whispers.

“I—”

“Please?” She asks, in that way he knows he can’t fight. “I don’t want to be alone.”

And just like that, the door closes behind him and he stays.

He finds her an oversized shirt to change into, helps her wipe the smudged mascara off her face, and holds her until the sun rises.

When she wakes, the space beside her is empty but warm and indented, the shape of his body lingering in the sheets. A full glass of water, ibuprofen, and the phantom taste of Javi’s lips are the only other traces of her really… good... friend.

—

He’s not avoiding her… per se. But it’s a long, lonely week later when he sees her again, on an uncharacteristically rainy Sunday outside their apartment building.

“I just got home,” she blurts after standing there dumbfounded for a good minute. She nods to the soaked brown paper bags in her arms. “Groceries. Uh, obviously. Were you...?”

“Forgot my umbrella,” he answers.

“Same,” she chuckles awkwardly, droplets hanging on her lashes and the ends of her hair, only partially covered by her hood. “Obviously.”

“Here, let me help you.” He takes the bags from her, keeping the door open with his foot as he waits for her to head inside.

“Thanks, Javi-er.”

He follows her upstairs silently, his wet, squeaking shoes punctuating each slow and heavy step.

“I can—”

“Let me just—”

They fumble and dance around each other in her doorway as he sets her bags in her apartment. And, as if to torture herself, she decides to stand under her door frame when he leaves to grab his umbrella, waiting the longest minute of her life for him with a forced smile.

He waves his umbrella at her after locking his door. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah.”

He nods and walks back down the stairs.

“Javier, wait.”

He pauses, his back still facing her, drenched shoes balanced on two different steps.

“Can we talk?” She hates the way her voice sounds when she asks, tinny and trembling. Clearing her throat, she clarifies, “About what happened... at the bar?”

He sighs, screwing his eyes shut tight and rubbing his forehead.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he says, low and barely audible as the rain starts picking up outside. And he walks away.

She’s stunned still, watching as his figure shrinks with each step he takes away from her. He’s already out of the building by the time frustration fuels her feet to follow him into the rain.

“Like hell there’s nothing to talk about,” she yells over the downpour, hair quickly sticking flat to her face. “Javi, we kissed!”

“You were drunk,” he says, just loud enough for her to hear, still walking.

“I wasn’t drunk,” she argues to his back, remembering with perfect clarity exactly how his lips felt on hers. “Just a bit braver. Javi, stop! Look at me. Please.”

And like clockwork, he turns slowly but doesn’t move any closer.

So, she closes the distance to stand beside him under his umbrella, taking in his features without the obscurity of rain.

“What are you running from?” She wonders, reaching for his fidgeting hand. “I would never hurt you. I—”

The line between his brows looks deeper than usual, as if they’d been stuck in that pinched position for weeks. Shadows lay in rings beneath his eyes, accompanied by smaller lines that carry untold stories she hopes he’ll entrust her with someday. His mouth is parted just slightly, as if to say something he knows could change everything.

And it does.

“I have to go.”

Her hands are empty and wet when he leaves. And the rain buries his parting words into the pavement.

I don’t want to hurt you.

—

She doesn’t hear from him for two weeks. Doesn’t even catch a glimpse of him.

The rain sticks around longer than usual for Los Angeles, making her apartment feel cold and gloomy. But maybe, it’s just missing him as much as she is.

Then, while she’s folding her laundry one night, she hears his door rattle and practically bolts to her own. He’s there. Keys in hand, rolling luggage in the other, hair tousled like he’s been pulling at it with his fingers. He looks at her when she opens her door, just for a beat too long, before hiding away in his apartment.

She sighs, closing her door in defeat.

But just as she starts getting ready for bed, she hears two knocks at her door, heart beating rapidly as she slowly makes her way to open it.

“Hi, neighbor,” he greets her softly, and the sound of his voice after so long without it nearly brings her to tears.

“Where did you go?” She asks. But she really means, Why did you leave?

“Texas,” he says. “I... needed to see my dad.” But he really means, I was scared.

“Oh.”

“Can I...” he mutters. “Can I come in please?”

She hesitates for only a second before stepping aside and he looks around like he hasn’t seen the inside of her apartment hundreds of times already.

He stops near her bedroom, where a new picture hangs proudly: a goofy, blurry photo of him stashing three pink packets of sugar in his shirt pocket.

“It’s the only photo you’ve let me take of you,” she says quietly, standing next to him with a wistful smile on her face. “I miss our diner dates.” But she really means, I miss you.

He doesn’t respond, just silently walks to her couch and sits, fingers rubbing circles into his forehead.

Minutes roll by slowly as she watches him from the other side of the room, battling with some invisible hand covering his mouth, holding on until the end to keep the words locked up.

“I’m not a good man,” he whispers, so softly she almost doesn’t hear it. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of... back in Colombia. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to tell you. I think a part of me is still there, fighting some unwinnable war. Hell, even before Colombia, I—”

Muddied images of a beautiful woman, an abandoned altar, and a shattered promise flash in his mind.

“Fuck. I can’t shake it,” he says, looking up at her with red-rimmed eyes, waving the invisible iron shackles on his wrists to show her. “Any of it. The nightmares...” He recalls her shadowy body and a dark, menacing voice. “They’ve followed me for years. I—” he looks at her, eyes darting across her face. “I could never give you peace.”

His head hangs low and a wayward curl brushes against his forehead. Despite how much space he takes up on her couch, he looks so small, defeated —  the weight of his past crushing him into this tiny, torn, crumpled-up piece of paper covered in red-inked, scratched-out sentences.

“Javi,” she whispers, but he doesn’t meet her eyes. So, she crosses the room and kneels in front of him, her palms reaching for his cheeks and lifting his gaze to hers. “Javi, who said anything about peace?”

The wrinkles deepen between his brows as he studies her, tries to understand what she means in the cloudy orbs of her eyes.

“The past is the past. We’ve all done things we can’t speak of. And sometimes at night, we live it all again. God knows I’m far from perfect. But I know you’re a good man, Javi. I see you,” she tells him, stroking the curves of his cheekbones with her thumbs.

“I’m not—”

“Do you trust me?” She interrupts his argument. He stares at her, blinks, before nodding once.

“Then trust what I’m saying. You’re not perfect. But you’re good.”

His eyes close as soon as she sees water beginning to pool behind his lashes.

“I’m not asking for peace. As long as I get to be with you, it would be enough.”

And then his lips are crashing into hers, pulling her into his lap until he’s covered in her. The sound he makes when they touch is devastatingly beautiful, like she’s a balm soothing his freshest wounds and healing his oldest scars. It feels like his entire body has exhaled — lungs deflated, bones liquified, mind released from a decades-old straitjacket. If not for gravity, he could float from the way his stomach is fluttering. His shoulders lower and he sighs as if he’d been holding his breath for his entire life until this moment.

He’s drowning in her, submerged to the top of his head. But he can finally breathe.

“I’m sorry I ran,” he whispers into her skin. “I’m sorry I left, cariño,” he kisses just below her ear. “My dad said I was the biggest asshole on the planet for leaving. I’m sorry, baby. So sorry,” he licks the seam of her lips.

“Mi alma, you have no idea,” he sighs when she parts her lips for him. “How much I love you.”

And she captures the words on her tongue, kissing him with a ferocity that says, Yes, I do.

“Want to know a secret?” She gasps when his lips trail down her neck. Her voice is barely a whisper, as feather-light as her fingertip skating across his shoulder.

He hums, a soft, lazy smile stretching his lips wide, so wide.

“I don’t think it’s possible,” she says, staring into his deep brown eyes. “That I’ll ever love anyone more than I love you, Javi.”

Her finger stops, retracted to shield herself after such a heavy confession. His eyes blink slowly, head lifting off the couch cushion.

He doesn’t say a word. He only stares at her, the softest smile on his face — his edges blurring into gentle curves in front of her very eyes.

“You’re it for me,” she finalizes.

And then they’re crashing into each other again and again and again.

End Notes: Look, it’s been almost 10 years since I sat in a Spanish class and watching Narcos only restored 3% of my limited vocabulary. Here’s what I got from Google Translate: “Llegas tarde.” = You’re too late. “Tómame!/ Tómame en su lugar.” = Take me!/ Take me instead. “Cariño” = Darling, honey “Mi alma” = My soul P.S. Please let me know if I missed any tags/triggers!

[hookingminor]

close quarters (2) - andre burakovsky

a/n: here’s part 2! hope y’all enjoy please leave me a message w your thoughts I love hearing what you guys think

word count: 2,735

one / two / three / four / five

-

Despite his sudden aloofness that past few days, Andre knocked on your door the following Thursday.

“Hi, Andre, did you need something?” You asked curiously. He never bothered you in your room.

“Actually, I had something for you. I know you’re still looking for a place, so I talked to some people and got you a showing for tomorrow at five,” he replied.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you thanked him, “Really, I can find my own place.” Though, you weren’t really sure if that last part was true. It had been a couple weeks, and you were still at a loss.

“It’s no problem,” he said with a blush, “I can send you the address and phone number of the agent later today.”

“Wait, you’re not coming with me? You have to come with me, Andre. I can’t just show up somewhere for an appointment I didn’t make,” you said hurriedly before he left.

“I don’t think—,” he began to say, but you cut him off before he got any further.

“You sent me your schedule, I know you don’t have anything going on,” you said with an accusatory finger to emphasize your point, “You have to come with me.”

Andre opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. He knew he’d been caught, and you weren’t taking no for an answer. You raised your eyebrows, putting on a hopeful face as your lips slowly quirked into a smile.

“Great!” You said cheerfully when you knew he wasn’t going to argue, “I’ll be ready to leave at three!”

When you closed the door in front of him, a victorious smile on your face, Andre threw his head back to gaze at the ceiling, cursing himself for not being able to tell you no.

-

You and Andre walked to your showing the next day as it was only fifteen minutes away and the parking in Denver was hell. When you arrived at the opulent building, you stopped in your tracks to berate Andre.

“Who the hell did you call? I can’t afford a place like this,” you said in awe, mouth agape as you stared up at the high rise.

“I may or may not have promised the landlord two years worth of season tickets in exchange for a favor,” he said, chuckling at your stunned expression.

“You really should not have done that,” you said, though the bite in your voice wasn’t as harsh as you intended it to be.

“It’s not a problem. I don’t have any family near me anyway, and I have the tickets to give away,” he said with a shrug.

Andre ushered you through the lobby and up to the seventh floor, apparently he’d been given the entrance code already. You didn’t say anything the entire way, too taken aback by the cleanliness and luxury of the building. You read the signs in the elevator that indicated the floors of a few amenities, pausing when you came across the information for a pool. This had to be way over your budget even with Andre pulling a few strings.

A middle-aged woman greeted you when you stepped out the elevator, tapping away on her phone as she stood outside the door you presumed was the apartment.

“Hi, you must be Andre. I’m Ellen, I’ll be showing you around today,” the woman said, using a key to unlock the door.

You followed her into the entryway, your eyes immediately noting the open concept and large kitchen. Granite covered the countertops, a perfect contrast against the white cabinets.

“As you can see, there’s a lot of natural light that comes from the large windows and balcony, high ceilings in all the rooms, new appliances in the kitchen, bathrooms were redone a year ago,” she listed on, but you were already sold the minute you entered.

“There is a gym on the first floor, each unit comes with its own washer and dryer, pool is on the roof, though it’s only open during the summer,” she continued as you wandered through the living room.

It was much bigger than what you needed but beautiful, nonetheless. Ellen led you to the hallway along with the attached bedrooms.

“This is the master bedroom, ample space for a king-sized bed and plenty of room for clothes and shoes in the walk-in closet,” she described with a chuckle.

“Oh, we’re no—” you started to say, shaking your head at the insinuation of you and Andre being a couple.

“We love it, thank you,” Andre said loudly, drowning out your voice, “Would you mind giving us a few minutes alone?”

“Of course, I’ll be out in the kitchen if you need me,” Ellen said with her best saleswoman smile. She left the two of you in the room, and you gave Andre a funny look.

“It’s easier if they just assume we’re a couple. Less awkward,” he explained, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. You gave him a smirk that said “sure, I totally believe you” as you allowed yourself to pace across the bedroom.

“So, what do you think?” He asked after a moment, slipping his hands into his pockets.

“It’s perfect. Way out of my price range but perfect,” you replied.

“Don’t worry about that, it’s all handled. I promise it’s within your budget now,” he said.

You stood at the window, overlooking the city and taking in the view. It was the perfect location: only a few blocks away from your new job but still close to the interstate if you needed to go somewhere. There was a grocery store on the corner across the street, and you could see three coffee shops just from your view from the window.

“I don’t know how to thank you for this,” you said sheepishly. You hated owing people, and this felt like one huge favor no matter what Andre said.

“Think of it as a welcome to Denver present,” he said, “So should we go sign the papers now?”

As much as you wanted to say no, to tell him this was too much, the offer was too good to pass up. You weren’t going to find another place like this that you could afford, and Andre had already promised the landlord tickets. It would just be rude to refuse now. At least that’s what you told yourself when Andre led you back out to the kitchen.

“We’ll take it,” Andre announced when you’d joined Ellen back in the kitchen. She set her phone down on the counter when she heard his voice.

“Perfect!” She said joyfully, removing a packet of papers from her purse and setting them on the table, “I have to make a quick call, but let me know if you have any questions.” She pulled out a pen from her purse, handing it to Andre before moving to a different room.

Andre gave the pen to you as you began rifling through the lease. You scanned the apartment rules and contract appendices, noticing the way the monthly rent had been blacked out and replaced with a new price.

“I don’t even want to know what the real rent is,” you chuckled lowly, signing where it indicated.

“I wasn’t going to tell you anyway,” he replied, leaning his elbows on the counter as he watched you read.

You flipped through the rest of the pages, most of the words were a formality and discussed liabilities, not that you intended to break anything. When you had finished filling out the last signature, Ellen appeared back in the kitchen, the same bright smile on her face.

“All finished?” She asked, putting her phone back into her purse. You nodded your head, handing the stack back which she tucked away with her phone.

“You’re going to love this place. It’s very popular with young couples starting out on their own, so you’ll have a lot of neighbors like you,” she said as she escorted you back out of the apartment.

“The least starts on the first, and there is a service elevator just out back that you will be given a key to,” she added finally, locking the door behind you, “If you have any more questions, you can call me any time, or I’m sure you have the landlord’s number.”

It was clear Ellen had another appointment to get to, so you said your goodbyes quickly and left the same way you came.

When the elevator doors shut, Andre turned to give you a big smile.

“Don’t look so smug,” you said with an eye roll, “I’m going to be surrounded by young couples all the time now.”

“Well, you can always just invite me over if you need a fake boyfriend to show off,” he said without hesitation. You widen your eyes in surprise at his proposition, and Andre is quick to backtrack

“I didn’t mean like— I just meant that… If you ever need company…” he stuttered, cheeks heating furiously. You laughed at his uncomfortable shuffling.

“It’s okay, Andre, I know what you meant. And you’re always welcome here, you’re kind of my only friend in Denver anyway,” you chuckled playfully, trying to ease the tension.

The elevator hit the ground floor, and you exited, eager to leave that awkward conversation behind you.

“Back to the apartment, then?” You asked to change the subject as you both stepped out of the building onto the sidewalk.

Andre glanced down to look at you, entranced by the way your eyes glittered in the sunlight. So, he decided to take a risk.

“Actually, do you want to get dinner? I know a good sushi place,” he asked in a hopeful tone, “You know, to celebrate the new apartment and all?”

You didn’t think your mood could've gotten any better, and Andre didn’t think your smile could get any wider, but both of those things happened when he asked you out for dinner.

“I’d love to,” you replied.

Andre walked you throughout downtown Denver to a fancy sushi restaurant that sat on the corner of the street. Despite not making any reservations, you were lucky to see it wasn’t that busy and you were able to easily get a table for two.

He ordered a bottle of wine for the table when the waiter stopped by as you read over the menu.

“Do you want to get some sample platters and just share? That’s what I usually do when I’m with the guys. It’s also the best way to try everything,” Andre asked, pouring out two glasses of wine. You agreed at his suggestion, placing the order when the waiter came back.

“So,” Andre started, bringing the wine glass to his lips to take a sip, “How do you know Taylor and Tom? In all my years in D.C., they never mentioned you.”

“Taylor and I actually met in college, she was the senior assigned to mentor me freshman year. So, we spent a lot of time together. I moved to D.C. after graduation, and she was currently there with Tom so I reconnected with her and that’s how I know them,” you explained, taking your own sip of wine.

Andre nodded his head along with your story, and then he launched into the story about how he met Tom. You knew it was because of hockey, obviously, but he went into more details about their friendship and living situation with Latta.

“I always wondered why you had three ketchup bottles in your fridge,” you chuckled along with his story. You’d only been to Tom’s apartment a handful of times and it was usually because Taylor had to swing by and pick something up but you always found it odd why one household had three bottles of ketchup and absolutely no other food. You just assumed guys were weird and didn’t know any basic cooking skills; it turned out you were not all that wrong.

“Yeah, the domestic skills of the apartment were not very high,” Andre laughed with you.

He asked about your jobs after school and why you moved to Denver, and you asked about his home back in Sweden. Questions turned into recalling childhood memories and other hobbies and interests you had outside of your careers. The sushi came halfway through an anecdote of how Tom broke a hotel TV in Calgary because he was trying to kill a spider.

You continued into a story of how your sister tricked you into walking on a bee’s nest, which resulted in ten different stings and a trip to the hospital. An hour passed and the sushi between you slowly disappeared as you took turns telling stories and taking bites. Soon, the plates were empty, the bottle of wine was finished, and you could feel the waiter hovering near the wall waiting for your signal to deliver the check.

Exiting the restaurant, you stumbled out on the small ledge that dropped down to the sidewalk, your arm instinctively reaching out to grab Andre’s arm for stability. You chuckled when you made contact, clearly a little more tipsy than you originally thought. His hand slid down to your waist, holding tightly until he felt you were steady enough without the support. And even though he removed his arm from your hip, you kept your arms snaked around his as you began walking. Andre didn’t retract his arm or look uncomfortable with your proximity, so you kept it there.

He steered your bodies towards the direction of his apartment, and you knew you were probably a good thirty minutes away. The bubbly atmosphere from the restaurant followed you the entire way back to the apartment, both of you continuing the banter from earlier. It seemed as if the wall that was between you, the one that had you dancing around each other because of the unusual living situation, had been broken down and you were finally past the stage of awkward acquaintances and into the stage of friendship.

Well, you hoped it was at least at the stage of friendship, though you were silently hoping it had progressed past that. You would’ve been blind to have not found Andre attractive, but with his schedule and odd behavior and the fact that you lived together, you decided not to act on it.

But tonight you were feeling like pushing the envelope a little bit further.

The two of you entered the front door of the apartment, and for the first time in nearly two hours, a silence fell between you. It wasn’t uncomfortable by any means, but it was clear that your night out was over and the bubble that surrounded your date had popped. Now, you were back into the temporary roommate bubble.

Your hand finally released its grip on his arm when you both reached the kitchen counter. Andre stood between you and the marble countertop, his eyes still twinkling as he gazed into your eyes.

“I had a great time today,” you blushed, “Thank you for dinner… and the apartment.”

Still in a blissed out haze from the date, Andre didn’t think twice about lifting his hand to brush aside a strand of your hair. You leaned slightly into his body as his hand paused to rest behind your ear for a second.

Taking a deep breath, you tilted your head up a couple more inches, hopefully communicating that you wanted him to kiss you.

It was this action that seemed to snap Andre out of his stupor because one second he was moving his finger to lift your chin, and the next second he was dropping his hand and stepping away. He blinked away the lustful mist that clouded his eyes before coughing awkwardly.

“Uh, I have to get to bed,” he said, taking a few more steps out of your reach, “Practice in the morning.”

“Oh, okay,” you said dejectedly, your lips turning into a frown. Were you reading the situation wrong? You could’ve sworn he was feeling the same way you were.

“Yeah, uh, goodnight,” Andre mumbled, turning on his heels before speed walking to his room.

The air around you felt awkward for the first time that entire night. You were bouncing off each other the entire night, why was he closing himself off now? Your brows furrowed in confusion as you took a few seconds to process Andre’s suddenly bizarre behavior.

What the hell just happened?

[libsterslobsters]

The Wanton Song

Summary: How do you broach the topic of sex with the 90-something super soldier you've found yourself dating? That's the reader's question. Luckily, she and Bucky are no strangers to awkward conversations...

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem!enhanced! Reader

(Reader can see bits and pieces of the future in visions and understands all languages)

Warnings: SMUT, tiny bit of angst, lotsa fluff, maybe some past dub!con if you squint

Author's note: Wow... here I am posting smut on the internet. Never thought that would happen. Tmi, but I'm married, so I have a good amount of sex 🙀 and I actually had a great first time, but some people don't, and that's what I tried to represent. That, and CONSENT!!!! Consent is sexy, y'all. Safe, sane and consensual all day every day.

As always, the reader's name isn't stated so that you can read as a self insert, but I've written so much at this point that I refer to the Reader as Violet in my own mind.

*************************************************

 Life has been going swimmingly these past few months. Better than ever before in fact, or at the very least, better than in a long time. She’s still a fugitive, living life looking over her shoulder, but now she has a steady job, a steady paycheck, and oh yeah, a steady boyfriend. Those three things have never aligned for her before (especially the last one). Overall, she’s pretty happy. But, because she’s her, there’s still a question niggling at the back of her mind.

 The transition from “you’re my only friend” to “we’re together now” went smoothly, helped in part by the fact that Barnes had been at that particular juncture the whole time. From the outside looking in, the only major changes have been the addition of those three simple but very key words and an upping the anti in the cuddles department.

 Speaking of cuddles, that’s a very mild term for what’s going on these days. It starts out innocent enough. The usual location is on the couch at one or the other’s apartment. There hadn’t been much distance between them since that first time where they ended up talking more than watching the movie playing from her laptop, but now, the space is nonexistent. As a general rule, within the first ten minutes, her legs somehow end up over his lap or in some way intertwined with is. The intention is always to pay attention to what’s on the screen but, well, when you’re that close, it would be rude not to snuggle up. And, when the other person looks that damn kissable, it would truly be insulting not to take the plunge.

 Now, considering the angle, one of them has to lean in. Otherwise, it would be awkward. That generally determines who, somewhere from two to ten minutes later, is on top of who. Of course hands wander, and even though it’s understood that the word “no” can be employed at any time and immediately obeyed (not to mention the copious amounts of “Is this okay”’s being asked), she can’t remember a time either of them have said it.

 If she had to attach a term to what comes next, it would be ‘dry humping.’ And then… nothing. It always ends far too soon, leaving her flustered and with her heart racing. At first she thought it was because he simply didn’t want her, but, well, there’s certain physical signs that point to that not being the problem. Her next guess was that he’s simply being respectful. Well, as sweet as that is, she’s ready to get on with it. She’s only human after all, and as such, has needs. Sure, she could take care of them herself, but if she had to guess, he’s experiencing those needs too, and from what she’s heard, it’s more fun to take care of it together.

 The only issue: how the hell do you bring something like this up, especially when the person you’re bringing it up with grew up in a much more repressed era than you did? She’s been debating it for the past week, and despite having multiple visions, none of them have given her that key insight into what to do.

 Finally, she decides to just say it. They’ve made a point to be honest with each other, and it’s probably best to get it out of the way. They’re adults, after all. They can have this discussion. She’s going to come straight out with it.

 “Hey, can I ask you something? It’s kind of personal, and maybe a little uncomfortable.”

 “Sure, Doll.” The response is immediate. “Fire away.”

 Glancing up to make sure they’re not at a pivotal scene in tonight’s movie (they have a system; at his place, watch something he grew up with, at hers, something made literally anytime after 1945), she spits out the whole sentence in one breathless go. “Are we ever going to have sex?”

 It feels like a branding iron where his arm is still wrapped around her shoulder. Still, it’s comforting. At least he’s not moving away.

 “I gotta admit, that’s not the question I was expecting. What brought this on?”

 She shrugs, carefully keeping her eyes trained on the wall behind his head instead of on him.

 “Nothing in particular. Just…” is there a delicate way to put this? “...I think things are going well between us, and sometimes when we’re together… I’ve noticed that there’s a physical response.” She’s really hoping that’ll suffice, because she can’t think of a good way to say “I can feel that you’re hard when you’re on top of me”.

 “Oh.”

 Apparently, her meaning is indeed clear enough, because he removes his arm from her shoulders. She’s about to apologize (all the while mentally berating herself) when his hand closes over hers.

 “I’m sorry about that, Doll. I’ll try to stay calmer.” Wait, that’s not- “It’s just an issue guys have. Don’t think it means you have to do anything that you don’t want to, because I would never-”

 “I know you wouldn’t.” Without thinking, she cuts him off. “And I want to.” It feels like she’s sitting in a sauna, she’s so flustered from this conversation. “But only if you do, and I understand if you didn’t-”

 “No.” It’s abrupt, cutting her off. A definite answer that leaves no room for questioning. “No, I do. I just-” He clears his throat. “-I didn’t want to bring it up, in case we weren’t on the same page. “ This seems to be a recurring theme, so far. “And it’s not a must. If you change your mind-”

 It’s pure instinct. There’s no thought involved as she closes the gap between them, this time with her on top, and presses  her lips against his. The response is immediate and enthusiastic. She considers just going on, not putting a stop to things, but realization hits that, although overall she’s ready for this to happen, she’s not ready for it to happen tonight. There’s still things she needs to take care of. Most importantly, protection.

 So, gasping for breath, she pulls away. “I’m calling for a rain check, but if after that, you still think I’ll change my mind-” she pushes back her hair and forces herself to take a deep breath. “-then you may just be beyond help, Barnes.” If the chuckle is anything to judge from, she’s made her point.

_________________________________________________________________________________

 Wow. Bucky thinks to himself as he exits out of the browser tab on his phone. That’s enough internet for one day. Too much, actually. He knows that it’s the information superhighway, but good god, no one needs THAT much information. He really needs to be more specific with what he googles… or less… or just not at all.

 He’d never admit it (and really, who the hell is gonna ask him anyway), but he spent the last hour looking up how to have sex. He’s engaged in the act before, yeah, but it was seventy years ago. Plus, it used to be this huge taboo thing that you suspected was going on behind closed doors, but no one (not even the married couples) owned up to it. If you were ever found out, there were severe consequences. As a man, he didn’t have to worry as much, but if whoever the woman was had her dirty laundry aired… oh boy. She’d be a pariah, a “scarlet woman”, unfit for marriage or to even give the time of day. That led to limited encounters, and, well, it just seemed smart to brush up on what information is out there. As it turns out, people have written a lot about the fine art of love making. Unfortunately for him, most of it is absolute garbage. Some of the positions he just read about (because at that point, the article was like a train wreck; he badly wanted to look away, but he couldn’t) don’t even sound possible, much less pleasurable. He’s all for society being freer, but good grief!

 He’s halfway through a bottle of straight vodka (it won’t have any effect, but he’s hoping maybe the alcohol will travel to his brain and sanitize his eyeballs from most of the shit he just read) when his phone rings. Great. He’s always happy to talk to her, but right now… wow. It’s gonna take him some time to recover, so he hopes she doesn’t need him to say much.

 “Hey, Doll.”

 “I am so fucking pissed off right now.” That sounds promising.

 “At what?”

 “The city of Bucharest, my apartment, the landlord, whoever the fuck did the plumbing in this building! God!” She’s clearly out of breath, so it takes a minute before she can speak again. “I’m sorry, Buck. It’s just that I came home from work, and one of my neighbors told me the entire sixth floor is under a good inch, inch and a half of water.” Wait-

 “How-”

 “I don’t know. Busted pipe. It’s leaked down onto the fifth floor, so I’ve got about fifty other pissed off people for company.”

 “Jesus.” 

 She chuckles harshly. “Yeah, we could use him right about now to perform a miracle. This is a shit show, and I haven’t even told you the best part.”

 “So the spontaneous flood wasn’t the highlight of your day?”

 “I fucking wish! So, naturally, I tried to call the landlord, along with basically everyone else. Get this: since it’s after five o’clock on a Friday, he’s not gonna do anything. Told us collectively to suck it up! And of course, when there’s a leak, they have to cut the power…” He’s starting to see a pattern here.

 She sighs. “I really needed to get that off my chest. How are you?” Still slightly weirded out by the information overload, but feeling a little more steady now that he’s got a good catastrophe to concentrate on. However, that’s probably not the best answer to go with.

 “Better than you are.”

 “What, the sky isn’t falling where you are?” He chuckles.

 “No, it’s right where it’s supposed to be.”  Which reminds him… “But since it seems like you’re short a functional home, why don’t you just stay here until they sort things out?” He’s got a couch that, while it doesn’t have anything on an actual bed, he can manage to sleep on for the next few nights. Or maybe they can share his bed. He shakes his head. That thought needs to be put to the side, even if it’s meant in the most innocent way possible. Of course, in case she decides to cash in that rain check…

 “Yes. I mean, that would be great, if you’re sure.”

 “I’m sure.” Actually, he can’t think of a better way to spend the weekend. The plan was to meet up either Saturday or Sunday, possibly both, so this isn’t that far out of the ordinary.

 “Okay, but just a warning: They’re not letting us go up to our floor in case there’s been electrical damage as well-” That’s smart. If the pipes are in that bad of condition, who knows what the wiring looks like. “-so all I have is my purse, backpack, and what I wore to work. No toothbrush or pajamas, or anything like that.”

 “That’s alright. All you have to bring is yourself.” He’ll have to look, but he’s pretty sure he has something in his closet that’ll work okay for her until she gets the all clear to go into her apartment. Plus, there’s a laundry mat just around the corner, not to mention a pharmacy.

 “Thank you. I really appreciate it.” 

 “Not a problem.” He glances at his bedside clock. Five thirty-four. It takes roughly half an hour to get across the city by bus, so… “I’ll see you around six fifteen?”

 “See you then.”

 As soon as the line goes dead, he springs into action. First thing’s first: make sure there’s no dirty clothes, old dishes, or trash laying around. That takes all of five minutes. He should probably check that he does indeed have something she can wear so they won’t have to fumble around later. Tshirts are pretty universal and… yes, he has a few pajama bottoms that have a drawstring waist. How much time does he have left? The phone screen lights up, giving him his answer. Twenty-seven minutes. More than enough time to run around the corner and pick up a few things.

 His intention is to buy the basics: spare toothbrush, deodorant, hairbrush, maybe a different shampoo than his three-in-one body wash (it’s convenient for him, but she might prefer something designated for hair specifically). But, well, there’s quite a few aisles, and he gets sucked in. Does he need to buy razors, or is that rude, like he thinks she’s hairy? What about aspirin? How often do most people get headaches? He honestly can’t remember. 

 By the time he realizes that he really needs to get a move on, his basket is full and he has no idea what aisle he’s on. Desperately, he looks around, and his eyes land on… huh. So they just have them out in the open these days. Last time he was in the market for that, he had to beg a married friend to make the purchase for him. He briefly wonders if he’ll need to produce proof of marriage or something similar, but pushes the thought to the side. It’s the 2000s. He can probably just go up to the register and pay, and no one will give him a second look. But there’s just one problem: which brand? He should google… suddenly remembering his adventure from earlier today, he decides to just go with his gut and pick one. There. Now, he needs to pay and get the fuck out of here because there’s only ten minutes left, and he’d rather not have these out in the open, in case she thinks that’s the reason he’s asked her to stay over. If it happens, great. If not… well, he’s made it for the past seventy years. What’s a few more?

___________________________________________________________________________________

 She was still pretty shaken up when she arrived at his apartment, carrying her backpack and purse, slightly damp from the drizzle of rain now covering the city. But immediately receiving a long hug, being instructed to make herself at home, and hearing the offer to take a shower so she could warm up did a lot to restore her good mood.

 It was one of the sweetest thing she’s ever experienced in a lifetime where most people have showed her their worst, going into that bathroom and finding a new toothbrush, stick of deodorant, nail clippers, hairbrush, and even shampoo. That and Barnes bashfully informing her that, “I’ll stay in the living room until you’re done. Take your time.” She almost suggested that he just join her in an attempt to broach the subject they left off on two nights ago, but thought better of it. She’s just started to strip when a knock comes from the other side of the wall.

 “Sorry. I just remembered that I forgot to give you a change of clothes. Can I leave them outside the door?” A smile forms on her face.  

 “Sure. Go ahead.” No one’s given this much thought to her comfort or boundaries before. Yet another reason she knows this is the right decision.

 She doesn’t stay in the shower for long, just enough time to wash and stop shivering. After toweling off and brushing out her hair, she cracks open the door. Sure enough, a worn but clean tshirt and pair of pajama bottoms are waiting for her. The familiar scent of the laundry detergent he uses envelopes her as she dresses and, at long last, leaves the safety of the bathroom.

 True to his word, he’s still sitting on the couch, thumbing through a book she gave him some months back (he’s missed so many feats of literature that have made their way into pop culture; today’s choice is The Hobbit because, while it was out before everything happened to him, he’s never read it) when she emerges. Just in case he’s so absorbed that he hasn’t heard her, she repeats his gesture from earlier and knocks softly on the wall.

 “Hey. I’m out. You can have your apartment back.”

 “Hey.” That smile always makes her feel slightly unsteady on her feet. “Find everything okay?”

 “I did.” She settles into the place next to him. “Thank you, by the way. You didn’t have to go out and get supplies.”

 “I know.” He nods, hand closing around hers. “But I wanted to make sure you had whatever you needed.”

 They chat for a while about their days, discuss what they should do with the weekend ahead, even throw out ideas for dinner. The entire time, she’s trying to figure out the best way to bring up that she’d really like to finish what they started the other night. However, by the time he’s left to grab some sort of takeout, she’s still no closer to an answer.

 Fortunately, their dates usually follow a pattern. Food, a movie, and then the not-so-innocent cuddles. This time, he’s on top of her when she feels the tell-tale sign that he’s as fired up as she is, so she suggests,

 “Do want to maybe move to somewhere more comfortable?” His already dilated pupils grow even larger, and he nods.

 “Yeah. That sounds like a plan.” She waits for him to roll off of her and head towards the bedroom before she grabs her purse and, digging around inside, grabs one of the foil packages she bought after their last date.

 It’s only once she closes the door behind her, shutting them into an enclosed space with a bed (not to mention it’s pretty damn clear what both of their intentions are), that nerves get the better of her.  He takes a step towards her, and she leans up to kiss him, but he ducks his head out of the way.

 “You’re shaking.” His hand ghosts over her arm, making it obvious that, by comparison, she’s practically vibrating on the spot.

 “Sorry.” She chuckles nervously. “It’ll pass.”

 “It’s alright.” As he says it, he meets her eyes. “We can stop. Nothing has to happen.”

 “I know.” She nods, swallowing hard. “But I want it to.” Their lips briefly meet before he pulls away again.

 “Let me ask you, just before we get started, is this-” He stops short, eyes darting from her face to the wall and back again. “...have you… before?” Oh. “Not that it matters, not to me, I just wanted to know so that-”

 “I have.” She nods, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. “Once. I was eighteen, and-” It was awful. She’d been seeing the guy for a few months and he kept whining about her not putting out, so she decided to get it over with. He went in dry without any warning, and when she asked him to stop, give her a second to adjust, he told her he couldn’t. She was bleeding and in pain for days afterwards, and to top it off, when her period was late, she thought that, even though he’d pulled out, she was pregnant. That turned out not to be the case, but it, along with the fact that she usually doesn’t stay in one place for very long, has put a damper on her ever wanting to do that again. Except for now. “-it wasn’t a great experience.”

 “I’m sorry.” On instinct, she searches for the judgment in his face, the disgust. It’s nowhere to be found, only genuine sympathy. “I’ll do my best to make sure this time is better. That is, if you’re still up to it.”

 “I am.” Not waiting for a reply, she wraps her arms around him and starts trailing kisses up his neck towards his ear. “I am. I trust you.” She hears his breath catch, but before she can comment, he’s hoisted her up and is carrying her in the direction of the bed.

 As he sets her down, she pulls him on top of her, letting her hands wander over his sides, up his back. After a few moments, she feels his fingers move from her hips to toy with the hem of her… his.. shirt.

 “Is this okay? Can I take this off?” She starts to nod, but remembers just in time that he’s so close, they’d butt heads.

 “Please.” She expected to feel exposed once she was at least partially undressed, but instead she feels… adored. His eyes are roaming over her newly exposed skin, though his hands have respectfully returned to her waist. In a moment of confidence, she reaches behind her and unhooks her bra. There. Now she’s completely shirtless.

 “You’re so beautiful.” The flush from her cheeks is spreading down her neck, but she still smiles.

 “Care to make things even?” It’s brief, but she catches the look of hesitation.

 “Sure.” Before she can offer to do it, he shrugs his shirt over his head, revealing to her, for the first time, the entirity of his metal arm. She must look for a moment too long, because with a shrug, he informs her, “I can put my shirt back on. No big deal. I know there’s some scarring…” That’s not going to fly. She needs to reassure him, make him feel as desired as he’s made her feel.

 “Or if you want to stop-” She stands and, after briefly making eye contact, places a kiss on the most prominent scar.

 “Don’t you dare think that way for a second.” They’re flush against each other, chest to bare chest. “Not for one.” Slowly, she slides her hands from his shoulders down to his waist, hesitating just over the button. “Is this okay?” Another shakey breath.

 “Yes.”

 Going forward, it’s much less awkward. The rest of their clothing is shed, and soon they’re back to their previous position; on the bed, with him on top of her. She feels his fingertips brush the inside of her thigh and gasps.

 “May I touch you?” She nods.

 “You’d better.”

 It’s gentle, more of him feeling her out than anything else. Still, she can’t help but think this is infinitely better already than last time around. Suddenly, he pulls his hand away, and it takes all her effort not to whine at the loss of contact. Before she can ask if something’s wrong, does he want to stop, he’s flat on his stomach, head between her legs.

 “Tell me if you need me to stop.”

 “What-” Her breath catches as it becomes infinitely clear what he’s doing.

 Again, she’s expecting pain when, after several minutes he eases a finger into her, but at this point, she’s so wet that there’s absolutely no difficulty.

 “Are you okay?” She nods.

 “Don’t stop.”

 The process is agonizingly slow, he’s so intent on his task. When, finally, he pulls away, she’s so close that she can almost taste it.

 “Do you still want to-”

 “If you don’t stop asking me that, I’m gonna slap you.” It’s a joke, and she thinks he knows it, but just to be sure, she siezes his hand (the metal one, which is usually cold but has now warmed from being held close against her body. “I’m ready, so long as you want this too.”

 “I do. You wouldn’t believe how much.” Yeah, she thinks she would. “Just give me a second.” Perfect timing. He rolls off of her, which gives her the opening she needs to grab the packet she managed to hide under the pillow while he was… otherwise distracted. When he returns from digging inside the wardrobe, she holds it up, only to realize-

 “Oh.” He’s got one as well. “Seems like we both came prepared.”

 He chuckles. “Just in case, although that wasn’t why I asked you to stay.”

 “I know.” She nods and pats the space next to her. “Not why I said yes either, although I can’t say I’m disappointed.”

 He returns to the bed and drops his packet onto the nightstand. “Save this one for later?”

 “Definitely.”

 There is a bit of discomfort once he starts to push inside her, but it’s not painful. Just… overwhelming. Slightly embarassed she asks,

 “Can you wait a second? Please?”

 “Of course. Are you alright?” She shifts her hips slightly, making them both groan.

 “Fine. You can move now.”

 She may have only done this once before, and she has no idea what his experience consists of, but as she hits her peak mere seconds before he does, gently coaxed over the edge, she can’t help but think some things are better the second time around.

 “I love you.” It’s whispered against her neck as, once she cleans up and returns to bed, she settles herself against him.

 “I love you too.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

 The first thing he thinks when he realizes that he’s not alone in bed is that HYDRA’s found him. He’s being activated. His eyes shoot open although apart from that he doesn’t move a muscle, and that’s when he recognizes the person next to him. It’s her. She’s here.

 The events of last night come back to him all at once, and he feels a smile forming on his face. It’s been a while, and in any case, it would be wrong to run a comparison, but what they shared, the pure intimacy of it both physically and mentally was incredible. Maybe he should feel a sense of shame. That’s what he was taught growing up. But instead he feels… peaceful.

 That is, until her eyelids flutter and she rolls over, shifting the covers so that he gets a good view of her still naked body, and with it, the bruises on her thighs and hips. Bruises unmistakably left by his fingers. Dammit. He’s done the last thing he ever wanted to do: he’s hurt her.

 “Good morning, sleepy head.” She yawns, the teasing words muffled. “It seems like we overslept.”

 His mouth goes dry, and all he can manage to choke out is a simple, “Yeah.”

 She frowns, sitting up slightly, and lets out a small groan. “You alright there, Bucky? You look a little off.” The late morning light only serves to highlight more marks he’s left, this time on her shoulders, neck, and breasts. Stubble burn. Hickeys. Why the hell was he so rough? At the time, he thought he was being gentle, but obviously he’s just as much of a monster as Bucky Barnes as he is once the Winter Soldier takes over.

 She’s still staring at him, brow furrowing in concern.

 “Fine.” He clears his throat and begins to sit up. “Stay here. I’ll make you a cup of tea, maybe some oatmeal.”

 “Alright. Don’t be gone too long.”

 Her words follow him out of the room, and into the kitchen. Fuck. He should’ve known better. 

Maybe once upon a time, he was a decent man, one who could be with a woman like  her and not do her a disservice. But now, it’s clear that he falls short in every way. In an act that was supposed to be pure pleasure, a way of communicating how much they mean to each other, he’s hurt her.

 “I trust you.” The words from last night ring in his ears. He shouldn’t have let her. It’s pretty damn obvious that, even at the best of times, he can’t be trusted.

 “Tell me what’s going on.” Even with his enhanced senses, he still jumps in surprise as the unexpected words come from behind him. He turns around slowly, not wanting to startle her. She’s standing there, clad in only one of his shirts, arms crossed over her chest (now bearing his marks), staring him down.

 “Nothing.” He shakes his head.

 “Bullshit. I had a vision of you staring off into space, and here you are, jumpy as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.” At another time, her choice in phrases would make him chuckle, but right now, he can’t muster it.

 “Last night-” Her eyes widen, but she stays silent. “I hurt you.”

 “No, you didn’t. Not at all.”

 “I did.”

 She frowns. “Bucky, I think I’d know if you’d hurt me, and I’m telling you, I’m fine.”

 “Doll, look at yourself!” He reaches out to take her arm, but immediately freezes. “Go in the bathroom and take off your shirt. Take a good look in the mirror and then tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

 “Alright.” Her jaw clenches, and she marches off in the direction of the bathroom. A deep sickness gnaws at the pit of his stomach and, completely worn out, he sinks into a kitchen chair.

 Not thirty seconds pass before she walks back into the room, this time completely undressed.

 “Tell me you’re not talking about a few love bites.”

 “And bruises! You may not have noticed, but they’re in the exact shape of my fingertips.”

 “Oh my god!” She shakes her head. “It’s a sex injury. A minor one at that! If you didn’t heal so damn fast, you’d probably have nail marks all over your back!”

 “That’s not the same thing.”

 “How is it not the same thing?”

 “I’m a monster! And you’re not.”

 She takes a determined step towards him, and he leans as far back as the chair will allow.

 “Bucky, you are not a monster, and I am not afraid of you.”

 “Then you’re stupid.” He hates himself for his sharp words, but she needs to take this seriously. Underestimating how dark, how evil he can be, is a mistake. A deadly one.

 “Hey!”

 “Don’t you get it?” Without any input from his brain, he stands. “They could find me, and with a few words, I could stare you dead in the eyes as I murdered you! If you were my mission, I wouldn’t even hesitate, and you’d be dead before your body hit the floor!” Her mouth falls open, but she immediately closes it again. “This isn’t something that can be worked through with some patience and a positive attitude! I could kill you!”

 “So could a million other things!” Her voice rises in volume, and before he can contain it-

 “But they’re not in the bed sleeping next to you!” He’s shouting at her. God. Everyone is right. He’s beyond saving.

 A few tense seconds pass before she looks up at him, a steely look in her eyes.

 “Look, I get it. I know what you could do to me.” As she speaks, she pulls out a chair and sits. “But I could also get run over when I cross the road, or the room could fill with carbon monoxide while I sleep. I could have an aneurysm and drop before anyone knows what’s happening.”

 He opens his mouth to tell her the likelihood of any of those things happening is far lower than the chance that he’ll hurt her, this time in a major way, but she holds up a hand, silencing him.

 “I’m gonna be cautious, but I’m also not going to live my life in fear that the ceiling is going to collapse or nuclear war is going to strike, or that someone is gonna turn up and say the magic words that make you go cuckoo for cocoa puffs-” What? “-and I just realized you’re too old for that reference.”

 “That’s another thing-” He’s about to remind her exactly how big their age gap is, that although he’s physically close to her age, chronologically, he’s closer to the age of her great grandfather, but she lets out a sudden groan of frustration, and that makes him bite his tongue.

 “Oh, fuck off, Barnes! If you’re about to start in on how you’re too old for me, then I’m not gonna wait for you to go full Winter Soldier before I kick your ass!” Out of all things, that’s what snaps him out of it, makes him feel like maybe, just maybe, there’s still a chance they can make the best of things.

 Smirking, he asks her,

 “You think you could kick my ass? Really?” It must be the breaking point for her too, because she snickers.

 “Of course. It’s the little bitches you have to watch out for.”  That’s it, he’s laughing, nearly doubled over, and from the looks of things, she’s in much the same state.

 “You’re something else, you know that?” He asks between stilted breaths.

 “I think we both fit in that category, Pal.” Her smile fades, but only slightly. “Bucky, if you really want me to go, if that’s what’ll give you peace, then I’ll do it, but I meant what I said. I trust you.” Never. He’ll never want her to go, he’s sure of it. Well then, that only leaves one option.

 “I know what we’re doing today.” It’s an abrupt segue, but it’s the only thing he could come up with on short notice.

 “And what’s that?”  The microwave dings, reminding him that he needs to stir the oatmeal, and he pushes past her.

 “Sit down and have your tea. You’re going to need all your energy if I’m gonna show you how to use a gun.” If she’s staying, then at least he can teach her how to defend herself beyond the basics she already knows.

 “So I guess this means you’re keeping me around for a little while longer?” It’s spoken like a joke, but he turns to her, meeting her eyes to drive the point home.

 “Yeah, Doll. As long as you want me."

[sinner-as-saint]

Okay but hc on Cherry!Mob!Seb fucking reader up after catching her on another man in the club- feed me this content, I beg (love you btw)

Cherry p1

Hmm, interesting because someone else also requested a part 2 to Cherry.

Mkay, here we go...

So

The mob boss would often go out of town for a couple of days

But then he always came back to you, for you rather

But this time, it had been 2 whole weeks and there was still no sign of him

You were a little worried at first, given the nature of his job.

But then the worry turned into annoyance and finally anger by the end of the second week.

He was clearly fine and well, probably having the time of his life with other women

So sulking over his departure was a waste of time.

You taught yourself to move on.

Sure, without his huge amounts of money, you earned much less every day

But it was still better than nothing

You had gained new clients, a couple of regulars too

One night, you were doing what you do best; performing for a very loaded man who showered you with money bills

The man even gave you his gold chain at some point; with his initials on it

Good thing you weren't wearing the collar given by Sebastian

And speaking of the devil...

Once you threw a quick glance around the dark room; you saw him immediately

Surrounded by his guards, hands in his pockets, dressed in a dark suit

Sebastian

His blue eyes glared at you

And just to fuel his very visible anger and discomfort, you moved even sinfully across the man's lap

Your scandalous outfit was perfect as well.

It showed just enough of your body to grab anyone's attention

And your actions clearly angered the mob boss even more

He knew you saw him, so all he did was point towards the private rooms and walked into that section of the club

He knew that sooner or later, you'd follow and join him eventually

And you did, after purposely keeping him waiting for quite a while

"Oh look who's here. What happened, you lost your way?" you sassed.

He kept quiet as he sipped on his liquor; sat on the dark red couch like it was his throne.

He studied your appearance

Your white lacy lingerie

Your excuse of a see-through cover up

Your slightly smudged dark lipstick

The golden chain around your neck, replacing the very expensive diamond collar he had given you a while ago; with his last name on it

But the thing he hated the most, was the bundle of cash tucked into the waistband of your thong

And you were disrespectful enough to show it off

He clenched his jaw as his eyes roamed your body

He had missed you

And he even hurried his way back, eager to find you and have you on his lap while he finally touched you and told you about the time he'd been gone

But no

He return to find that his girl defied him.

"Come here" he simply said, authority dripping from his words

You approached him, thinking he would just be a bitch about what he saw earlier but then he would finally give in

But no

Oh no

The mob boss was furious

He pulled you into his lap and gripped your jaw

"Get your hands off me!" you slapped his hand away

But he placed them back, gripping your face harder this time; it hurt just a little

"Why are you being like this? What the fuck were you doing just now, outside?"

You almost laughed

"My fucking job! Now go get fucked somewhere else!" you were mad too, but under your anger was hidden hurt

You could've sworn you heard him growl the moment you tried get off his lap

Ans within a second he had you pinned down on the couch

He held you by the throat gently

"You will not disrespect me like that, babygirl" he dared to move

You chuckled

"Or what huh? I have nothing to lose, Sebastian. I'm just a whore to you anyways." you sounded as though you were questioning his power

And he hated that, amongst others things

"Just a whore huh? Well, let me show you how I treat one," he'd whisper before going absolutely crazy

He'd tear off your lingerie in less than a few seconds

And you'd let him

You had missed him too, truth is you'd take whatever he'd give you

But he did go a little over the limit

I'm thinking Sebastian would just not care

He'd be degrading

To a point where it hurt

"I was stupid to even give you my attention! Should've left you out there, to be used like a whore"

He spoke while he separated your legs and settled in between them

He was quick to push himself in you, not even bothering about your whimpers

"I was stupid to put you on a fucking pedestal and call you mine. But I leave for a couple days and you get back to where you truly belong. Guess whores never learn, huh?"

He wanted to push your limits; physically and mentally.

He knew his words hurt, but he wanted you to feel how he felt when he walked in to find you on someone else's lap

You whimpered as he filled you up, he didn't give you time to adjust to his size; he just started rocking his hips against yours

You moaned at how good he felt, but then he quickened his pace

He was relentless

"You'll do anything for money, huh? Tell me, did he fuck you like this as well? Did you let him?"

He asked as he merciless pounded into you, pinning your wrists above your head

He grabbed the golden you wore and yanked it off your head, throwing it somewhere on the ground.

You moaned out loud, struggling to keep your eyes open as it started to water

You weren't sure if it was out of pleasure or because of his choice of words

At some point, he'd pull out, turn you around, pull your hips up before pushing into you again from the back

You'd whimper at the intensity of his thrust

"Aww, what is it? You can't take my cock? But isn't that what whores do? Fucking shut up and take it then!"

He'd keep going

You'd cry out his name as the pressure would built in between your legs

"You asked for this, well then fucking take it! What else is a whore good for, huh?"

You felt the tears fall, at the same time your body betrayed you and you came all over his cock.

He grunted as he felt your walls clench around him, milking him perfectly as he came right after you did

Sebastian pulled out and pulled your naked body onto his lap

You had missed his warmth so you instantly clinged to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pushing your face into his neck

You let the tears fall, and sniffled at they did

Sebastian's heart broke

He had been rougher than usual, and rude... He knew that

Sure, he had been angry and rude but he was the only safe place you knew. Or had.

He regretted everything he told you

He was ashamed aa he stroked your bare back gently

"Baby?"

You didn't respond, instead you sniffled again

"Baby, I'm so sorry" he spoke again, his voice a stark contrast to what it was just a minute ago

"You're mean" you finally spoke, voice strained and tired

You sobbed softly, still holding him tightly.

His heart broke a little more. Once he was done, you could've easily left, but you didn't

You stayed because you had no one else, and you needed to be held and taken care of.

"I'm sorry baby, i know i was rude and bad. But it's only because i thought you wouldn't be mine ever again. And I couldn't live with that" he explained.

You sniffled again.

"Still. You were so mean" you spoke, pulling away to look at him with tears in your eyes.

He wiped your tears away and pulled you into him

"I'll make it up to you, I promise. Will you please forgive me, baby"

"No" you simply said, avoiding his blue eyes.

He sighed, knowing you'd come around.

He put his suit jacket around you and carried you out of the club through the back door and into his car.

He sat you down gently and drove as fast as he could.

The silence was heavy, but not unpleasant

"I didn't wanna do it" you said, leaning against the window

He was confused

"Do what?" he asked

You wiped some more tears away and took a deep breath.

"I didn't want to perform for the man. But I'm running out of money, and I have to pay this month's rent or my landlord will kick me out."

You finally confessed

"You could've just told me that, Y/N" he said, sounding more caring than you wanted him to.

You almost chuckled through the pain

"You were gone for a week, Sebastian. Besides, that's my problem, not yours." you made it clear.

But he didn't like that.

He stopped the car abruptly.

"You are mine! All your troubles are mine, okay? You don't have to worry anyways, you're never going back to work in that club"

You knew that possessive tone, and it only entailed surprises.

"What do you mean?" you questioned further

"I'm buying it. You can run it." he spoke as if it were nothing at all.

You were shocked.

"Seb, what-"

He cut you off.

"You heard what i said, baby"

"But why?"

"Because i want you all to myself. I want you to be with me."

You scoffed.

"This is how you ask girls out?"

He looked at you and smiled.

"Not girls, just you." He caressed your tear stained cheek lazily.

After talking about it, after he constantly apologized for his previous behavior and a few playful banters later, he started the car again.

"Where are we going?" you asked

"Home." he replied.

"Your home?"

"Our home." he corrected you. And you almost cried again.

"Why? Haven't you had your fill?" you teased.

"I have. But every king needs his queen by his side. And I need you. I'll keep you safe and happy. Forever."

a/n: *sobs* y'all-

Everything tag list:

@charmed-asylum

@ravenmoore14

@stangirl-fangirl264

@xbuckxnastyx

@qrndevans

@starkerhowlter

@fafulous

@smolandrare-coffee-bean

@alexxcorona113

@heartislubbingdubbing

@buggy-blogs

@livsheph

@tt-nikithakppr

@chowder200

@curlyhairedandconfused

@beckloves

@inez-lannister-stark-martell

@amantedelcalcio

@reniescarlett

@rocknrollsinner

@siriusjohnpotter

@scarygoodgirl

@ladymidnightt

@the-illusion-of-a-kiss

@unlikelycandylove

@fentybucky

@marshyrebelcloud

@talk-geek-to-me

@antisocialvscovibes

@tasteslikeblueberries

@the-jer-bear

@aynaraxas

@dreams-in-blxck

@socksracoon10

@moony-tonks-lupin

@anncutamarica

[weirdthinkingdragon]

Unwanted Devotion

Yandere Erasermic x Reader

Warnings of yandere and obsessive themes, and kidnapping (like usual)

I was resting in the cat cafe with my best friend, Adara. She loves cats almost as much as me, and they seem rather fond of us too. I scratched the chin of a long-haired Bombay. Its fur was extremely soft and silky to the touch. They take really good care of the cats here. I should know from working here before. Adara laughed as the tail of a white Persian swiped across her nose. It was a peaceful silence between us otherwise.

“So, anyway, have you got anyone to date yet?” She asked, suddenly speaking up. Why did this have to come up? “Eh, only once, but it didn’t last long since he liked someone better.” 

“Ouch. Well, definitely plenty of fish in the sea, huh?” I sighed. “Yeah, but that isn’t really the main focus right now. I can focus on that after my job starts to pay me more. Barely scraping by, but they’re giving me a raise hopefully next week.” 

“That’s not a wrong thing to do.” I rolled my eyes at her. “Says the one married to a rich man already.” 

“Once again, true.” The bell opened to two men entering. They seem slightly familiar. Adara seemed to recognize them before I did. “No way! Is that Hizashi and Shouta!?” I knew she was about to yell out to them. I tried to stop her by covering her mouth, but she leaned away right before. “Hey, Hizashi! Shouta! Is it really you two!?” Her yelling caused the two of them to turn their heads into our direction. A face of annoyance came over the one with the long black hair. It perked up a bit when he and I locked eyes. 

It didn’t take long for the two of them to come to our table, especially seeing the two cats with us. The Bombay of which decided to rest in front of me on the table. That seemed to grab Shouta’s attention. It just looked at him while purring contentedly.  He seemed rather surprised. It could be this one doesn’t like many people. Adara sat next to me for the other seat to be empty for the two of them. 

“It’s been AGES guys! We really should have kept better touch! How have the two of ya been!?” As hyper as ever Hizashi exclaimed. It startled the Bombay, making their fur puff up, but they still didn’t move. 

Adara nodded. “Yeah, it’s been way too long. Surprised to see you guys here. The two of you have been rather busy, huh? being heroes AND teachers now.” 

Wait… what? “Wait… they’re teachers now?” She nodded. “Yep. They actually have been for a few years already!” My eyes widened in surprise. “Hah, wow, never expected you to become a teacher Shouta!” He kept his ever so stoic expression. I do however have a growing interest in how he got that scar on his face. Something tells me it might be a touchy subject though, so no bringing it up.  

A cream-colored Persian went into Shouta’s lap, instantly getting his black outfit full of bright long specks. He didn’t seem to care in the slightest, and it made Hizashi chuckle at him. Hizashi grabbed Shouta’s free hand closest to him and interlocked their fingers. An odd sense of sadness came over me, but there was also happiness as well. Shouta seemed to be looking around making sure no one else saw. It wasn’t very busy considering it was night and had less than half an hour before closing. 

It reminds me that I used to like both a while ago. Of course, now that's definitely off the table. It’s great they stuck towards their heroic desires though. I had to give up from not being able to intern. Same with Adara. Shouta saw where my sight was aimed and tried to pull his hand from Hizashi. “No worries! We can keep it a secret!” Adara piped up.

I smirked at her and looked at them. “What secret?.” She smirks back and that seems to ease Shouta. “Ya should have told me you quit working here! I was tryin’ to find ya months ago! I asked your co-workers when you worked so I could drop by. They refused to tell me!” 

“Well, think about it. They probably thought you might have been a stalker or something. You’re not as recognizable without your hair up.” He thought for a moment and nodded. “Ya got me there!” 

“Still, really bummed they didn’t even tell me someone was asking for me. We could have met so much sooner!” 

“You’re tellin’ me! Well, don’t stop now! Give me your number!”

I laughed at his enthusiasm and gladly gave it to him. He almost too eagerly put my number into his phone. “Might as well give me your number as well.” Shouta piped up. I was rather surprised he wanted it. He didn’t talk to me much back in school. He did often sit by me though. Rather closely too, but there was nothing about it. I shrugged it off and also gave it to him. Adara did the same, but they didn’t seem as enthusiastic about it? Well, she can be rather annoying in her texts. The Bombay demanded attention again by rubbing their head against my hand. 

“Anyways, I envy the energy you have Hizashi. You never seem to run out.” I commented. 

“I really wish he would. He can never be quiet.”  

“Aw Sho, don’t be like that! Ya know you dig it!” 

“I really don’t.” Hizashi looped his arm around Shouta’s shoulders. “Baaaabe! Don’t be so meeeeaaan!” 

“Quiet down!” He snapped, quickly looking around again. None of the staff were in earshot distance and they were busy starting to sweep and restock things. 

“I’d like to ask something if that’s okay,” I said. Shouta looked at me and nodded while Hizashi and Adara were spouting something about music and new slang. He nodded. “How long have the two of you been together? You don’t have to answer if it’s too personal though.” 

He seems to think for a moment. “Believe it or not, it wasn’t long after school. We met up again and spoke to each other at times like now when we have the time,” He looked over and “glared” at Hizashi. “If only he could be a bit quieter, but that’s never going to change with his loud mouth.”

“Were ya talkin’ ‘bout me, babe?” Hizashi suddenly asks, gaining attention towards us. I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Maybe, maybe not,” A smirk grew on my face. “He’s just saying how much he loves you.” Shouta glares harshly at me with a bit of blush forming on his face as Hizashi quickly pulls him closer. “Aw! How sweet of ya!” Adara laughs at Shouta’s misery. 

Hizashi looked at me. “So, y/n, have ya got a lover yet?” I groaned. “Adara JUST asked me that before you two came!”

“We weren’t here then.” I sighed heavily. “No, and I’m not planning on it until my life is more together.” The two of them grew worried expressions. “What do you mean?” 

I gave a nonchalant shrug. “Just having trouble with a bad landlord and bills. You know, the usual sucky things of life.” Hizashi looked at me with a small frown. “We could-” I knew what he was about to say, and that’s a definite no.  “No. I can’t have you guys do that for me.” I cut in. “But we’re will-” 

“Nope! I’ll handle it on my own.” 

“Y/n, this is serious. Let us help you before it gets worse. I’d know.” Shouta’s voice turned incredibly stern. It almost made me want to cave in and accept it. No wonder he’s a teacher now. 

“Listen, I understand your guy’s concern for me, but I’ll be fine! You both have my number, so maybe just text me something later, and I’ll reach out if I need to.” I persisted. Shouta’s eyes narrowed more. I’ve forgotten how truly powerful this man’s glare was. Yikes. 

It felt like hours, though it was only seconds until he finally relented with a nod of his head and the other two let out their breath they were holding. 

Adara decided to break the tension in the worst way possible. “Hey, Y/n? Remember when you used to have a crush on-” I covered her mouth before she could finish. “That jerk from school? Yeah, I want to slap my younger self for ever having that damn thing on such a narcissist.” I quickly came up with that lie and glared harshly at her. I could tell Shouta can tell something was a lie. 

Adara licked my hand. It took a lot of restraint not to recoil and take my hand away from her mouth. “We better go. Text me later for us to meet up!” I told them, and dragged Adara out the door. I yanked on her long red hair to make her come, and as a little payback. As soon as we got out the door and a little ways away, I let go of her. “What was that about!? You were going to make it so awkward between us four than it already was!”

“Don’t try to deny it! You STILL have feelings for the both of them! I can tell just by the way you look at them!” 

“They’re together now! Do you know how bad it would be!? Seriously, they’d never want to talk to me again!” She shrugged. “I don’t know about that. They seemed still pretty interested in you.” 

“You’re reading too far into things. I don’t want this to come up again.” I hissed, and stormed away with feeling sheer embarrassment at the utter gall she had to try bringing that up. 

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

I started to hang out with the two of them in their limited free time. It surprised me they wanted me to hang out with the two of them every time they were free. My little thing I still had for them quickly vanished as I saw their interactions. Now it’s me trying not to physically gush how adorable they are together. Shouta was reading with his legs over Hizashi’s. A cute little habit I noticed of his is him always having to touch Shouta in some sort of way. In public? A “friendly” arm slung around his shoulders. Between us? Holding his hand or even just rubbing his hands on Shouta’s legs. Especially if Shouta is wearing shorts, like he is now. 

I didn't want to impede on their connection more and more as my mind focused on it. They don’t need me here. They were sitting on their couch while myself was on the loveseat. My phone was out in front of me while I absentmindedly glanced at the two of them from time to time. The more the thought wandered, isn’t this kinda weird as well? We don’t even really speak at times like this. Sure, the peace is great and all, but… Fuck it, this has to change. Come on Adara. Right now would be a great time to- 

My phone started to ring. It was Adara. Impeccable timing! I answered it and stood up to leave the room. “What’s up gir-’

“You need to get away from them NOW!!!” Adara sounded beyond panicked. Panic quickly started to rise in me as well as I glanced at the two men. They didn’t seem any different. I stopped looking before Hizashi and I could lock eyes. 

“What do you mean?” I question. 

“I fully underestimated just HOW much they love you! My husband was just warned by his friend you’re in danger. You need to leave, and NEVER be alone with them again! No matter how much they ask! Get out now, before you can’t again!” 

Okay, that’s beyond concerning. But they’d be caught if they ever did something like that! This can’t be a joke though. She’s surprisingly not one for jokes. 

“You’re on a suspect list! It’s free reign if they get you! RUN!” 

The fear increased tenfold with her words. I look back at the cou- They’re not there! Flight kicked in, and I started to run towards the front door. My wrist was suddenly grabbed, and my phone is yanked from my hand. My attention snapped forward to Shouta tightly gripping my phone. Tight enough his knuckles turned white as he pressed the speaker button. 

Hizashi was standing next to Shouta with a betrayed and hurt expression. His frown deeper than I’ve ever seen it. Shouta isn’t doing much better. “You know Adara, It’s rather hurtful to go back on trying to rekindle our love.” Chills ran up my spine. That doesn’t even sound like Hizashi. 

A shriek of surprise came over the phone. It quickly turned to her breathing heavily. She sounded more angry than fearful. “It’s because you two are fucking insane you put them on the suspect list!!” she spat. 

“That’s rather hurtful, dear Adara.” Hizashi fully blew off her accusation. 

Shouta squeezed it tight enough the screen started to crack. He wasn’t holding my wrist… I decided to run for it. I didn’t even get close to the door when something wrapped tightly around my waist and dragged me back. It was pulled up slightly to prevent me from falling. There was only one thing it could be… Shouta’s capture weapon. He was using his quirk and it only needed one hand. The other still held the phone. 

“You’re no longer needed. Stay quiet, and maybe things won’t end bad for you.” 

‘Crack’ the phone got crushed. 

I was in full blown panic now. Especially the look on their faces. It didn’t take long for Hizashi to hug me tightly. Something wet dripped onto my shoulder. Why is he crying!? If anything, I should be the one crying! “Sho, w-we did it all wrong!” Shouta sighs angrily. He stopped using his quirk, but his capture weapon still was wrapped tightly around me. Including my arms which were pinned to my sides. 

“We overheard that night. We were hoping to bring your love back to us by jealousy,” His eyes narrowed as he looked away. “Turns out that was clearly the wrong decision. It only drove you away more.” 

Hizashi hugged tighter. “Do-Don’t worry Songbird! We can still fix this! We can make ya love us again!” He turned his head towards Shouta. Shouta walked behind me and hugged my bound form as well. It was so binding to the point it was hard to breathe. I tried to squirm in their toxic grip. The attempt to break free was clearly fruitless, only succeeding in them squeezing tighter like a snake suffocating its prey. 

Shouta leaned to be right next to my ear, and let out a satisfied exhale. It being so close to my ear sent another shiver up my spine. “We should have done this much sooner.” Hizashi eagerly nodded as I started to get tired and stopped struggling. 

“Ya see! They’re already lovin’ us! Sho, it’s not close enough though!” In the corner of my eye, Shouta nodded in agreement. They released me, but like a leash Shouta pulls me over to the large couch, Hizashi not far behind. 

"Hold them." Shouta said, and pushed me closer to Hizashi. He didn't have to be told twice. Shouta quickly used his quirk to undo his capture weapon. They had a silent conversation as I started to squirm again. “Guys, stop this! I moved on, you guys need to as well!” 

Their faces turned to delusional obsession. Hizashi sat on the couch, and forced my legs to wrap around his lower back. Shouta quickly ties his capture weapon around my ankles before Hizashi lets go of my legs. 

Hizashi then leans against the armrest of the couch as Shouta goes behind me. He puts his legs over Hizashi’s, and leans forward to fully sandwich me. 

“No. We’ll make you love us again. We lost ya once, and never again.” 

“One way,” He leaned next to my ear again. “Or another.” It didn’t take a genius to know it was a threat… That and him squeezing his legs into my sides. 

It was easy to tell I wasn’t going to be able to go anywhere anytime soon…

[timelordthirteen]

Desperate Souls 1/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit

Summary: A broke and heartbroken Belle French comes to an agreement with Mr. Gold to do a little modeling, just for him, in exchange for the money she desperately needs, but it isn't long before they both realize they've made a deal they didn't understand. Based on this prompt.

Chapter Summary: Belle makes a depressing discovery and considers her options.

Notes: OKAY. Here we go. Chapter 2 is almost done, but everything was getting stupid long and in spite of my plan I had to break it up. The entire story is all fully outlined now, but I make zero promises about my ability to keep it updated because I'm the worst. In total it will be anywhere from 10 to 15 chapters.

[AO3]

Belle stared at the paper in her hands.

$37.23

That was all that was left in the account. She staggered and then dropped down onto the old sofa. Her heart was thumping in her chest, her face felt hot, and her vision blurred. The page fluttered away, sliding over the coffee table to fall off the edge and onto the floor on the other side. The corner of the paper fluttered in the air from a heating vent in the floor, and she watched it for a long moment before her head dropped to her hands, palms pressed to her face as tears stung her eyes.

Her heart, her hopes, her money; Garrett Gaston had taken everything.

Well, almost everything. Apparently, she still had thirty-seven fucking dollars and change left. She shook her head and laid back against the cushions, breathing slowly. Calming down was step one, step two was figuring out a logical plan to fix things. Most of the regular monthly bills: car payment, cell phone, and utilities, had already been deducted before Garrett had a chance to clean out their shared account. That left whatever was on the credit card and the rent to pay. She let out a short, humorless laugh, and sat up. There wasn’t much on her Visa, some books she ordered from Amazon last month and her Netflix subscription. Even if there was more she could get away with making minimum payments if she had to and eat the interest until she got back on her feet. The rent was a whole other story.

Mr. Gold didn’t do minimum payments, but he did do late fees and interest.

There was also her promise to her father. Moe French was always just barely making ends meet, and she had agreed to loan him some money to buy extra stock for the flower shop ahead of Valentine’s Day, something she had done last year as well. That holiday always put the shop in the black for a while, and she hadn’t been concerned that she wouldn’t get her money back. Now she was wondering if she would also need a loan of some kind just to keep a roof over her head.

Maybe she’d even have to move back in with her father.

Belle blinked, letting the tears roll down her cheeks, leaving trails through her makeup. Living with Moe was not an option, not if she wanted to maintain any semblance of a relationship with him, which left her with few choices. She pushed to her feet, wiping at her face with her hand as she crossed the small living room to pick up the bank statement. Her eyes immediately went to the top of the page.

Beginning balance…$4,737.23

The statement crumpled in her hand, her fingers squeezing it into a tight ball, digging the sharp edges of the folded paper into her palm before she spun on her heel and threw it across the space. It smacked against the door to the bathroom. She followed it up by yanking the ring off her left hand and flinging it in the same direction. It made a satisfying ping as it careened off the doorknob and rattled to the floor.

Rage fueled her as she stomped through the apartment, snatching up the handful of things her now very ex-fiance had left behind before he fucked off to Mexico with a woman who wasn’t her, taking all of her money with him. She felt like an idiot for agreeing to sign Garrett onto her account before they were married, but in the moment it had made sense to pool their funds. They were starting their new life together, supposedly, and he made a point of saying he wanted to help pay for the wedding.

Belle and her father didn’t have much, and from the outside it seemed like Garrett was far better off financially. He had a decent job selling insurance, a nice car, nice clothes, and his parents were very well off real estate agents in Boston. Or at least that was what he had told her. She had never met them, and that, combined with the fact that he had yet to make any deposits into their now shared account, told her all she needed to know. Garrett Gaston was a lying asshole, and for all she knew his parents could be dead or have disowned him. It was clear he had used her, though she wasn’t sure the year long charade was worth the four thousand-seven hundred dollars he’d stolen from her.

She let out a ragged breath and ran her hands through her hair. A hooded sweatshirt with a rip in the front pocket, a paint splattered t-shirt, a pair of work boots that had seen better days, a phone charger, and a mismatched pair of socks lay in a pile on the sofa. Everything else he’d taken with him, including half the hangers in the closet. He must have crammed it all into the same large suitcase and duffle bag he’d used to move in just three months ago. She wondered if he’d had it all planned before then, or if it was a spur of the moment decision. When had he met this other woman? Had he cared about her at all, ever?

Belle sniffed loudly and rubbed her nose. She refused to shed any more tears over Garrett, and looked around the room for anything she might have missed. A thought hit her then, and she hurried into the kitchen, took one of the chairs from the small table by the window, and used it to reach up on top of the fridge. Her heart sank when she felt nothing but dust. He’d even taken her emergency fund, mostly made up of spare change and small bills shoved into an old jar. She wasn’t sure how much was in it, but it had to be a couple hundred dollars. That brought the total to almost five thousand.

Deflated and exhausted, she climbed down off the chair, and placed it back at the table. Then she walked back into the living room and briefly contemplated setting Garrett’s things on fire. There was a burn barrel in her father’s backyard that he used for yard waste. Maybe she could invite Ruby and Ashely over for a bonfire, and roast marshmallows that they imagined were ex-boyfriends.

That thought made her smile, but a few seconds later, she sighed and reluctantly went to pick up the bank statement and engagement ring. Being angry might make her feel better temporarily, but it wouldn’t solve any of her current problems. Unfortunately, neither would anything Garrett left behind, which were clearly items he no longer cared about and which had no value. At least she’d been wearing the ring when he packed up and left, or he likely would have taken that as well.

She went into the bedroom and sank down on the end of the bed. The mattress dipped and the frame creaked, yet another reminder of her less than stellar financial state. A couple of weeks ago, they’d talked about getting new furniture after they were married, in particular, a bed, and Belle rolled her eyes at the memory. She put the engagement ring back in its box on her dresser, and decided to take a shower. As the hot water ran down over her neck and shoulders, she made a mental list of what she needed to do, and felt calmer after she was done.

After drying off and changing into some comfortable clothes, she shoved Garrett’s belongings into a trash bag and set it by the door to take down to the dumpster in the morning. Then she sat down with the little notebook she kept in her purse and a pen, and started writing out her expenses for the next month. By the time she was done, and after considering the amount of her usual paycheck, the total she would at the end of next month was...fifty four dollars.

She fell back against the sofa and blew out a breath. There was no way to make the math come out any better. Rent included the usual utilities, but there was food, her cellphone, car insurance, and those incidental costs of existing like laundry detergent and toilet paper and probably a hundred things she’d end up running out of next week. It felt like life was out to spite her. The cushion she had worked so hard to build up was gone, as was the paycheck that had just deposited. Garrett probably waited until Thursday just for that reason, to squeeze just a little bit more out of her and make her ruin complete.

She got up and went back into the bedroom. The ring box seemed to be mocking her as she reached for it, and she flipped it open and scowled down at the princess cut diamond. It was about one carat in size, flanked by two smaller diamonds, which gave the ring a total weight of about one and half carats. It was huge as far as engagement rings went, and she supposed that was more of Garrett showing off money he didn’t actually have. The truth was she didn’t care for it at all, the squared off princess cut being her least favorite, and the set of three gems gave it a bulk and gaudiness that wasn’t her style. But it was what he had picked out and proposed with, and because of that she made herself like it. The band was rose gold, her favorite, which was at least one thing he managed to remember about her.

Belle snapped the box shut and shook her head. The ring had to be worth something, and though there was only one place in town she could take it she was confident that Mr. Gold would give her a fair price. He had always been fair, even if he often came off as cold and eccentric. She’d never had a problem with Gold, though she didn’t really know him that well either. A few times she had gone out of her way to try to be nice and talk to him, but he seemed annoyed and eventually she gave up. She was friendly and polite when she saw him, not just because he was her landlord, or because we wielded some strange power over most of the citizens of Storybrooke, but because she sensed he was someone who didn’t have a lot of kindness in his life.

She set the ring down and yanked open the bottom dresser drawer. Inside was a small collection of what could only be described as ugly Christmas sweaters, leftover from the annual holiday parties that Granny would throw at the diner. Those were taken out and set aside. Beneath them was something that made Belle frown all over again, a pile of silk and lace, with a few price tags caught up on each other. It was the pile of lingerie that she’d been reserving for her wedding and honeymoon.

The sting of tears made her blink and she felt her earlier anger bubbling up again. She knelt down in front of the drawer and pulled all of it out, throwing it behind her on the bed. Then she set about separating it, untangling tags and eye hooks, and pairing up the things that went together. She hadn’t worn any of it yet, but the items with tags had been purchased too long ago to return, never mind that she had probably thrown out the receipts weeks ago. It wasn’t designer stuff or anything, but it had to be worth something, so she folded it all into a neat stack and placed it on top of the dresser. Then she set the ring box on top and resolved to take all of it to Gold’s shop tomorrow.

None of it would be missed.

[hansols-yoda-boxers]

CNS Spin Off - Old Flame

Choi Seungcheol x Kim Minji

Word Count: 822

“How’s the search going?” Nayeon asked, seating herself on the edge of the desk Minji was working at.

“How did you know that was what I was doing?” Minji questioned.

“You have disappointment and disgust all over your face and that can only mean looking at shitty apartments and talking to shady landlords.”

Jeonghan leaned over from where he was working. “Still nothing?”

“Still nothing,” Minji sighed, sitting back in her chair. “Seungcheol even has friends asking around but it looks like I might be couch surfing for the foreseeable future.”

This wasn’t how Minji was planning to start her career. This wasn’t how anyone wanted to take a step in their life, living out of boxes with their car packed full and sleeping on people’s couches. But there was nothing livable available and she couldn’t keep waiting. If nowhere was good enough to put in an offer…

“What about Seungcheol’s couch?” Jeonghan questioned.

“Maybe for a while,” Minji said doubtfully. She knew if she asked he would say yes in a heartbeat, but she also didn’t want to impose. Seungcheol would never have the heart to kick her out or to ask too much of her. She didn’t want to put him in that position so that was still the very last resort in her mind.

And,

After six years one would think that a friendship would be strong. She knew hers with Seungcheol was. But she also knew they had never really lived together. They had shared a cabin for a few summers but the dynamics of eight or nine people in a cabin was vastly different from living with him and one other person, not to mention on their couch. What if they didn’t get along? What if their little habits annoyed each other? What if they were really incompatible when it came to how they lived in private?

“I’m sure he’d let you,” Nayeon said. “I think he’d let you do anything you wanted.”

“That’s-” Minji started but her words dropped off as Seungcheol came into the administration office. The admin staff all threw him glances as he spoke in low, angry tones over the phone, stalking over to the programming desks.

As he got to the edge of Minji’s desk he hung up the phone, looking as if he wanted to throw it. Nayeon and Jeonghan watched him cautiously but Minji stood up, gently taking the phone from his hand and rubbing her hand up his arm. Seungcheol calmed a little at her touch, taking a deep breath.

“What happened?” Minji asked.

A grin laced with frustration tugged at Seungcheol’s lips. “My roommate is moving out. Next week.”

“What?” Said Minji.

“That’s sudden,” added Nayeon. 

“Did he just decide?” Jeonghan asked.

“Nope,” Seungcheol said, running a hand through his hair. Minji wrapped her hand around the fist he’d unconsciously made and he relaxed it. “He knew two months ago he just didn’t tell me until he had everything finalized.”

“Dude, that sucks,” Jeonghan said.

“I’m aware,” Seungcheol groaned, dropping into Minji’s chair.

Minji rested her hands on his shoulders. “You’ll figure something out.”

“In less than a month?” He questioned. “I can’t afford the rent on my own. Maybe for September but after that…”

“Wait, that’s perfect!” Nayeon said excitedly.

Everyone looked up at Nayeon in confusion.

“How?” Minji questioned.

“You need a place to live, Seungcheol has an extra room. It’s a no brainer.”

Minji felt her mouth drop open as he stared at Nayeon.

“That does solve both of your problems,” Jeonghan added.

Minji felt a hand on hers and looked down to meet Seungcheol’s gaze. He seemed just as unsure about the idea as she was. It was one thing to be on his couch for a month or two, but another entirely to sign a lease for a whole year together.

“That… is a solution.” He finally said.

“Do you think- Would it be okay?” Minji asked, her stomach full of butterflies.

“I-It should be? Right?���

Nayeon snorted. “You two are acting like you don’t live together all summer, you’ll be fine.”

“Are you actually worried you won’t get along?” Jeonghan chuckled. Both Minji and Seungcheol dropped their gazes. Why was it so much easier for everyone else to believe it would be easy for them?

“Living one on one is a bit different,” Minji mumbled as Nayeon and Jeonghan got up. Seungcheol followed suit. 

“If anyone would be fine it’s you two,” Nayeon said, rolling her eyes. They all started to head for the door, on their way to lunch. Seungcheol stayed close to Minji and as they walked the two fell back a bit.

“Do you think we’ll be alright?” Minji asked.

“It’s just living together,” He said. “People do it all the time. We’ll have separate rooms. We’ll be fine.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

“Yeah, of course,” she added, feeling no less stressed at all.

[queenofcats17]

Remember that HLVRAI Coraline AU? Here’s the thing I wrote for it.

Original idea came from me, @lady-lampblack, and @sbpstudios

This is also really old and I’m now finally finishing it. Some things have changed since the initial post because I had ideas.

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

Joshua hadn’t wanted to move. 

He’d liked his house and his friends and his school and hadn’t wanted to leave. But his dad had calmly explained that while he didn’t want to leave either, his new job was in another state. And while his dad hadn’t said it outright, Joshua knew money was tight. He’d heard his dad talking about not having enough money to keep the house when Gordon had thought Joshua was asleep. 

Barney had offered to help, but Gordon had gently turned him down, pointing out that Barney had his own things to deal with. A security guard’s salary could only go so far and Gordon didn’t want Barney sacrificing his own health and safety just to help him.

So, they’d moved. 

Joshua, his dad, and his dad’s roommate. 

Joshua sat in the back of the moving truck, staring up at the ceiling while he listened to his dad and Benrey argue. 

“We’re seriously not gonna have wi-fi for the whole weekend? That’s lame, dude.”

“Look, I couldn’t get anyone to come out any sooner. And it’s only for one weekend.”

“Lame, bro.”

“Well, I don’t know what you want me to do. That’s just how it’s gonna be.”

“Are there gonna be other kids at our new house?” Joshua asked, getting up so that he could look at Benrey and Gordon. Benrey was playing on his PSP while Gordon drove the moving truck.

Even if he had to move halfway across the country, maybe he could still manage to make some cool new friends.

“I dunno, bud,” Gordon admitted. “The landlord mentioned that he doesn’t usually rent to families with kids, so...probably not.”

“Oh.” Joshua’s face fell and he allowed himself to slump back onto the floor of the truck.

“I’m sorry, Joshie,” Gordon said, glancing back at his son.

Joshua said nothing. It wasn’t fair. The last time they’d moved, it had only been to another city, but it had still been hard. He’d been yanked away from his friend and had to make new friends. And now he’d have to make new friends all over again. 

“You’ll still have us, little man,” Benrey said, looking over his shoulder at the little boy slumped on the floor. 

“It’s not the same,” Joshua mumbled. “I wanna have friends my own age.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Joshie.”

Joshua said nothing else for the rest of the drive, curled up in a little ball.

Benrey and Gordon continued to talk off and on. Although it sounded like arguing, Joshua knew that was just the way the two of them were. They’d been this way for as long as he could remember. He knew his dad and Benrey cared a lot about each other, they’d lived together Joshua’s whole life after all, but neither of them seemed willing to admit it. Which made no sense to Joshua. He didn’t get why they didn’t just admit they liked each other. But then again, Joshua didn’t get a lot of stuff about grown-ups. 

He ended up falling asleep, only being woken up by his father announcing that they were there. Yawning and rubbing his eyes, Joshua sat up and peered out the windshield. Immediately his eyes widened. 

The building before them looked like something out of a historical drama, aside from the fact that it was all painted bright pink. It was massive, with what Joshua saw as towers, tons of windows, and a huge porch. 

“That’s our house?” Joshua asked, his voice hushed in awe. 

“Well, kind of,” Gordon said. “The house got converted into apartments a while ago, so we’re going to be living in one of the apartments.”

Joshua was briefly disappointed, but it didn’t last long. Apartments meant there would be other people, so he wouldn’t be alone. Plus, the house was in a wide open area so he could run around all he wanted.

“Can I look around?” Joshua asked, bouncing up and down. “I wanna look around!”

“Sure, just give me a second to find the landlord-”

But Joshua wasn’t listening. He’d heard ‘sure’ and had run with it, scrambling over the seat and Benrey to get out the door and onto the lawn.

He took off across the grass, eager to explore everything about the apartment complex. He’d never lived in an apartment in a house before! However, in his excitement, he failed to notice the man emerging from basement apartment. Before either knew what was happening, Joshua had plowed right into the man, knocking them both to the ground. 

“Joshie!” Gordon yelled, running after him. “Don’t go running off like that!” He knelt down and helped the man up. “I’m so sorry.”

“It-It’s okay,” the man replied with a smile. “I wasn’t looking where I was go-going either.”

The man was tall, even to Gordon, which meant that he looked like a giant to Joshua. He was wearing what could only be called “dad clothes”, his attire consisting of a loud Hawaiian shirt, cargo shorts, and socks and sandals. 

“You’re really tall,” Joshua announced.

The man blinked, then laughed. “I get that a lot.”

“So...do you live here?” Benrey asked, peering past Gordon.

“Not...exactly?” The man laughed again. “I-I’m the landlord.”

Gordon’s face went as pale as it was conceivably able to. Benrey put a hand on Gordon’s shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly. 

“What’s a landlord?” Joshua asked loudly, still captivated by this strange man.

“It means he owns the building the apartments are in.” Gordon’s voice went up an octave. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Coolatta, I-”

“It’s alright,” the landlord cut him off with a reassuring smile. “And yo-you can call me Tommy.”

“Oh, uh, okay, Tommy?” Gordon laughed nervously. “It’s...Um...It’s nice to meet you?”

“You-You too.”

Joshua was getting bored sitting there. He wanted to keep running and exploring, not listen to the adults talk. So, he began to look around while his father and Tommy continued to talk.

Benrey stepped out from behind Gordon, hands shoved in the pockets of his sweatpants. “So, uh, Feetman said-”

“Don’t call me that in front of our landlord!” Gordon hissed, swatting at Benrey’s shoulder.

This didn’t seem to deter Benrey in the slightest as he kept going. “Feetman said you didn’t rent to people with kids. Why’d you let us in?”

"We-Well, you just seemed so desperate,” Tommy replied. “It did-didn’t feel right to turn you away.”

“Thank you again, Mr. Coo- Tommy,” Gordon quickly corrected himself. “I really appreciate you letting us rent here.”

“It’s no problem,” Tommy assured him.

“So, uh, how much do I owe you for the first month’s rent?” Gordon asked, digging out a notepad. 

As the three adults began to hash out the first rent payment of the month, Joshua spotted a flash of black in the bushes. Curious, he crept over. As he got closer, a cat emerged from the foliage. It was a slender tuxedo cat, its fur sleek and glossy. It almost looked like it was wearing a little suit with the way its fur was patterned. It looked up at Joshua with piercing blue eyes that almost seemed to glow. 

Joshua reached for it, transfixed by its gaze. There was a strange intelligence to the way it looked at him. As if it were somehow....human.

“Joshie!” 

At the sound of Gordon’s voice, the cat turned tail and ran, disappearing into the shrubbery once more. 

“Joshie!” Gordon repeated. “We’re going to start unloading the truck!”

“You gotta stake out your room or else we’ll steal the best one,” Benrey added with a grin. 

“Hey! No fair!” Joshua protested. 

He ran back to his father and Benrey, the cat momentarily forgotten. 

Tommy, however, watched the bushes with a solemn expression. As the three new tenants began to unload their belongings, he disappeared into the woods outside the apartments, following the lead of the cat.

.

Joshua spent the next few weeks meeting the other residents of the Pink Palace. 

Downstairs were Mr. Bubby and Mr. Coomer. They were married and had been in the circus together when they’d been young. Bubby was constantly boasting about his fire-breathing act and often still attempted to set things on fire, much to Tommy’s dismay. Coomer was still incredibly buff, even at his age, and could often be found chopping wood for Bubby to use in his little arson attempts. The whole fire thing was enough to make Gordon wary, so Joshua mostly only visited them when Gordon didn’t know about it. 

Upstairs was Darnold. He was a high school chemistry teacher, although he didn’t want to do any cool experiments with explosions. Still, he was pretty fun to hang out with because he knew a lot of cool stuff about science. Even if he didn’t want to do explosion experiments, he was still happy to lead Joshua in some safer ones. Joshua got dropped off at his apartment a lot to be babysat while his father and Benrey worked because Darnold was the most normal and stable of the other tenants. Not to mention it was summer, so Darnold didn’t need to be at the school.

Next door was Forzen, who Joshua had only seen once. He was an ex-soldier and a bit of a shut-in. Joshua had been told to leave him alone. 

And then there was Tommy. Tommy lived in a different house away from the Pink Palace, coming by every day to check on everyone. He was by far the coolest person Joshua had ever met, aside from Darnold and his dad and Benrey, and his dog was awesome. Sunkist was big enough for Joshua to ride! Tommy had let Joshua ride her a few times and it had been amazing.

But as awesome as Tommy was, there were certain things about him that were...strange. Whenever he thought other people weren’t watching, Joshua had noticed that his expression became strangely solemn. And he always seemed sad whenever he was around Joshua, even though he tried to hide it. 

Not to mention, Joshua had seen him talking to the cat he’d seen on his first day at the Pink Palace. It always happened on the outskirts of the property, with Tommy crouched down and the cat half-hidden by the bushes.

“Whose cat is it?” Joshua asked Darnold one day after he’d been dropped off at the man’s apartment for the day.

“I’m...not sure what you mean,” Darnold said, looking up from the vegetables he’d been cutting. He was making a stir fry for both of them for lunch, which meant his usual bowtie and sweater vest combo had been removed and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows. 

“There’s a cat I see sometimes. It’s black and white and it’s got these really pretty blue eyes,” Joshua explained. “Whose cat is it?”

Darnold hummed, frowning slightly. “I don’t think it really belongs to anyone. It just....” He gestured vaguely with his free hand. “Lives in the woods and shows up sometimes. No one’s sure where it came from. Tommy takes care of it sometimes, though.”

Now it was Joshua’s turn to frown. “So you don’t know anything about it?”

“Nope.”

“Uuuugh.” Joshua groaned, sinking down on Darnold’s couch.

“Sorry.” Darnold smiled apologetically.

“Well, do you at least know why Mr. Coolatta doesn’t let people with kids live here?” 

“Also no.”

Joshua groaned again, sinking further into the couch.

“I always figured it was due to some safety hazard,” Darnold said, returning to his cutting of vegetables. “Although, Bubby and Coomer say that that rule was in place even when Tommy’s father owned the place.”

This piqued Joshua’s interest. The first thing that ran through his mind was that there was some sort of conspiracy going on here. Some hidden secret. 

Maybe it had to do with the weird door little he’d seen in the living room. The one that led to a brick wall and was only opened with a key shaped like a button. Gordon had figured it had probably connected the room that was their living room to whatever the correlating room in Forzen’s apartment was and had been bricked up when the house had been made into apartments. A simple enough explanation. But Joshua didn’t quite believe it.

Something was going on here.

Joshua had to find out what it was.

This turned out to be harder than Joshua had expected. Darnold didn’t know anything about the door or the rule, as he’d learned, he couldn’t talk to Forzen, and when he’d asked Tommy, the landlord had reacted rather strangely. 

“Oh, w-well, you know,” Tommy had said with a nervous laugh. “Sa-Safety hazards an-and all that. Oh, would you lo-look at the time!” He’d then turned and absolutely sprinted away, not even answering the question about the door.

Which left Bubby and Coomer. 

Joshua stood at the top of the stairs leading down to their apartment, a notebook clutched to his chest. Both his father and Benrey were out at work, so no one was there to stop him. Taking a deep breath, he marched down the stairs and knocked on the door.

Almost immediately, the door was opened, revealing the beaming face of one Doctor Harold Pontiff Coomer. Coomer was not a tall man, but he was a big one. He looked like a teddy-bear come to life while wearing long-sleeves. But when those long sleeves came off, one could see properly how Coomer was built like a brick wall.

“Ah, hello Joshua!” Coomer said brightly.

“Hello, Mr. Coomer,” Joshua said, drawing himself up to his full height, which was not all that tall. “I’ve got some questions I wanna ask.”

“Questions?” Coomer repeated, amusement flickering in his eyes.

“Mm-hm!” Joshua nodded resolutely, holding his notebook to his chest.

“What sorts of questions?” Coomer asked. 

Joshua was about to answer until Bubby’s voice came from deeper in the apartment. “Who is it?!”

“It’s Joshua!” Coomer called back without missing a beat. “The boy from upstairs!”

“He’s still alive?” There was some shuffling and Bubby appeared, wearing a faded blue bathrobe and squinting at Joshua over the top of his incredibly thick glasses. 

“Why wouldn’t I be alive?” Joshua asked.

“There’s a monster here that eats kids,” Bubby answered matter-of-factly. “Would’ve thought it’d have put its little feelers out by now.”

“A monster?” Joshua’s eyes widened, all thoughts of the little door gone.

“Yeah, why do you think they don’t rent to kids?” Bubby folded his arms. “Monster. Eats kids.”

“So Mister Tommy knows?” 

“But of course!” Coomer replied. “His father never let him come near this place when he was a child for fear young Tommy would be snapped up!”

“And there’s no way Greg didn’t tell the kid about it when he took over running the place,” Bubby added.

Joshua nodded, scribbling this information down. 

He’d known something was going on! 

“What do you know about the monster?” Joshua demanded, his face screwed up in adorable determination.

“Not much.” Bubby shrugged. “It’s weird, it eats kids, got a thing for buttons I think.”

“It lures you in by giving you everything you could possibly want.” Coomer’s expression was suddenly dark, his voice low and solemn. “It grants your heart’s deepest desires and then it steals away everything that makes you you. It eats your life and drains your soul until there is nothing left but an empty husk.”

There was a long pause as both Bubby and Joshua stared at Coomer. 

“Jesus Christ, Harold,” Bubby finally said. 

“Or so I’ve heard!” Coomer’s bright expression and peppy tone immediately returned. “So don’t go following any strange button-eyed creatures!”

Joshua nodded slowly, clutching his notebook to his chest like a safety blanket.

Thankfully, his attention was drawn away by the sound of his father’s voice. “Joshie? Joshie where are you?” 

“I gotta go,” Joshua announced, looking back at Bubby and Coomer. “Thank you for your valuable information.”

“Don’t get eaten!” Bubby yelled after him as he ran away. “You see any spider looking fucks, you set them on fire!”

Gordon was standing on the porch in front of their door, looking slightly panicked as he scanned the lawn to see if he could locate Joshua. Benrey had a hand on Gordon’s shoulder, rubbing his thumb in circles on Gordon’s shirt. Gordon visibly relaxed when he saw Joshua running up. 

“There you are, bud.” He knelt and opened his arms, allowing Joshua to run into them. “You had me really worried. I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“Sorry, Dad,” Joshua mumbled. “Just wanted to ask Mr. Bubby and Mr. Coomer some stuff.”

“What kinda stuff?” Benrey asked, leaning against the doorframe. 

“I wanted to know why Mr. Tommy doesn’t let people with kids live here,” Joshua said. “Mr. Darnold said it’s been that way since Mr. Tommy’s dad owned the house.”

“And did they have an answer for you?” Gordon asked as he picked Joshua up. 

Joshua lit up, nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah! They said there’s a monster that eats kids and that’s why Mr. Tommy and Mr. Tommy’s dad don’t want kids here!”

“That’s an interesting story,” Gordon said with a somewhat unsure smile.

“If there’s a monster, why’d he rent to us?” Benrey asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Tommy did say we seemed desperate.” Gordon’s smile slipped a bit.

“It’s okay, Dad.” Joshua put his little hands on the sides of his father’s face, staring at him with an adorably determined expression. “If I meet any monsters, I’ll kick their butts.” 

Gordon blinked, then laughed softly and kissed Joshua’s forehead. “Of course.”

“I’m a cowboy! I’ll kick their butts!” Joshua insisted as Gordon carried him inside.

“Hell yeah you will.” Benrey agreed, following them inside.

Gordon sighed, although he couldn’t help but smile while he did. “Don’t encourage him, Benrey.”

Dinner that night was spaghetti, which Joshua couldn’t help but complain about a little. It was just noodles and store bought sauce, both of which were rather bland. 

“I’m sorry, bud.” Gordon smiled wearily. “I’m just kind of tired.”

“You’re always tired,” Joshua grumbled, sinking lower in his chair. 

Gordon got very quiet after that. Benrey immediately jumped in to fill the silence with his rambling about PlayStation, but Joshua could tell he’d struck a nerve. 

That night, after he was supposed to have gone to bed, he crept to his bedroom door to listen to his father and Benrey talking from the living room. 

“I’m a horrible dad,” Joshua heard Gordon mumble. It sounded like he’d been crying. “I’m ruining his life and he’s going to hate me when he’s older.”

“You’re doing the best you can, bro,” Benrey replied.

“But is it good enough?” Gordon demanded. “You heard him! I’m always tired!”

“Yeah, well, busting your ass 24/7 is gonna do that to you.”

“I’m not giving him the kind of life he deserves, Benrey! He’s only eight and we’ve already had to move twice!”

“You’re doing the best you can,” Benrey’s voice grew soft, barely audible through the door. “And even if you can’t always be there, he knows you love him, Gordon.”

There was a loud sniffle, likely from Gordon. 

“Thanks, Benrey.”

“No prob, dude. Now.” The creak of someone, presumably Benrey, getting up from the couch. “I’m gonna go get you some water and check on the little dude, okay?”

“Okay.” 

Joshua scrambled to get back in bed, hiding under his covers to pretend he was sleeping. He could hear Benrey’s footsteps coming closer, then the door opening. Joshua laid as still as he possibly could, trying to keep his breathing even.

There was a beat of silence, then, “I know you’re awake, kiddo.”

“How’d you know?” Joshua popped up.

“You and Gordo snore real loud when you’re actually asleep,” Benrey said as he leaned on the doorframe. He’d turned on the lights, illuminating the room and his smirk.

“I do not snore,” Joshua huffed, folding his arms and pouting. 

“Sure, kiddo.” Benrey strode into the room. “Now, it’s past your bedtime. You gotta sleep now.”

Joshua laid back down, continuing to pout as Benrey tucked him back in. 

“Why don’t you and Dad get together?” He asked after a moment. 

Benrey froze, hands hovering over the blankets. “.....Huh?”

Joshua stared up at him, his expression earnest and full of youthful sincerity.

“I know you guys like each other,” Joshua said. “So why don’t you get together?”

“It’s...complicated, little man.” Benrey started playing with the tassels on his hat. 

“But you guys love each other!”

“Your dad’s been hurt by people he loved before.”

Joshua fell silent. 

He knew exactly who Benrey was referring to.

Joshua knew virtually nothing about the man that was his other biological father. All he knew was that Gordon and this man had dated and the two of them had wanted to have a child together. Joshua. But when Joshua had actually been born, the man had skipped down, leaving Gordon alone with his newborn baby. 

“Shifty bastard’s lucky I haven’t seen him since he pulled that stunt,” Joshua had heard Barney say once to Benrey after Gordon had gone to bed. “Otherwise I would’ve kicked his teeth in.” 

The Calhoun brothers had a lot of feelings about Gordon’s former partner and absolutely none of them were positive, although they tried not to talk too much about him while Gordon was around. 

Joshua himself didn’t particularly care about the man and seldom spared him a passing thought. Except when his dad was in pain. Then he thought about the man and wondered why he would leave Gordon all alone like this. 

“But you’re not like him,” Joshua insisted. 

“That doesn’t mean he’s not gonna be scared,” Benrey said, his voice soft. “When you’ve been burned like that...The fear never goes away.”

“So...Is he just gonna be miserable forever?” Joshua started to tear up. He didn’t want his dad to be miserable.

“Not forever. He just needs some time. He’ll be okay, I promise,” Benrey assured him, ruffling Joshua’s hair. 

“...Are you gonna make sure he’s okay?”

“Yep. I’m kinda like a superhero, y’know? Keeping your dad safe from the shadows.”

Joshua giggled at Benrey’s attempt to look cool, his fears assuaged for the moment.

“Sleep well, bud.” Benrey kissed Joshua’s forehead and exited the room, closing the door behind him.

Joshua rolled over in bed, snuggling up under his blankets. Soon enough, he was fast asleep.

He was awoken hours later by what sounded like claws scrabbling on hardwood. He sat up, looking blearily around. The room was dark and the house was quiet. Aside from the claws on the wood, that was.

“Dad?” Joshua called out. “Benrey?”

There was no response. 

Frowning, Joshua picked up the flashlight he kept next to his bed and put on his cowboy hat. His cowboy hat always made him feel braver. He crept into the hallway, shining his flashlight around. The sounds seemed to be coming from the living room.

The living room where the teeny door was. 

Joshua walked a bit faster, sliding into the living room. There, in front of the little door, was the cat he’d seen outside. And a rat. A rat made of...cloth? The cat had the rat in its mouth, shaking it about as if trying to break the rat’s neck. In its own mouth, the rat clutched the button key to the door.

“Kitty? What are you doing in here?” Joshua asked, walking over to the cat.

The cat’s head snapped around to look at Joshua, and he got the strongest feeling that it was telling him to go back to bed. It was the same look that Gordon or Benrey gave him when they were very tired and really wanted him to just listen to them. Joshua took an instinctive step back. He hadn’t thought a cat was capable of such a human expression.

The rat took advantage of this shift in the cat’s attention to wriggle out of its mouth and through the little door with the key. Which was now open.

“Wait! You can’t take that key!” Joshua yelled, chasing after the rat without a second thought. “It’s not yours!”

The cat’s eyes widened as Joshua darted into the strange passage beyond the tiny door. It quickly followed after him, the door swinging shut behind them.

The tunnel beyond the door was.... strange. Joshua wasn’t sure why he felt like this, but he felt like he was crawling through the throat of something large. It felt....alive. He shook his head and tried to move faster. 

Soon enough, he reached the end of the tunnel, pushing out into the room beyond. 

“Umm...Hello?” Joshua stuck his head out of the doorway. It looked exactly like the room he’d left. Except...he could hear someone humming. Frowning, Joshua pulled himself out of the tunnel and got up, following the humming toward the kitchen.

Outside of the living room, the house looked different. It looked...He wasn’t sure how to describe it. It just looked...brighter. More welcoming.

“Hello?” He asked, pushing the kitchen door open. 

There was a man in the kitchen. He had his back to Joshua and was humming while he chopped something on the counter. Upon hearing Joshua enter, he turned around, revealing....

“Dad?”

The man who looked like Gordon smiled warmly. He looked almost identical to Joshua’s father, with a few key differences. This man was far more put together than Joshua was used to seeing Gordon. His orange sweater and brown slacks were immaculate, and his hair was fluffy and swept back in neat ponytail.

And he had black buttons where his eyes should have been. 

“Joshie!” The man who was not his father said, in a voice exactly like Gordon’s. “You’re just in time for dinner, bud!”

“You...You’re not my dad,” Joshua stammered, backing up. 

“I’m your Other Father,” Not Gordon explained. “Now, could could you go tell your other Other Father that dinner’s ready now?”

“My....other Other Father?” Joshua repeated weakly.

“He’s in his study,” Other Gordon said, already turning away to start presumably plating the food.

“Okay.” Joshua nodded, turning away. He still had his flashlight clutched tightly to his chest.

He wasn’t sure what Other Gordon had meant by “study”. They didn’t really have a study. The closest they had was the designated game room, which Benrey did spend a lot of time in. So, Joshua headed there.

As he got closer to the game room, he could hear the sounds of a piano being played. Joshua frowned slightly at this. The closest thing to an instrument he’d ever heard Benrey play had been a kazoo, and that had only been to bother Gordon. Although, he had heard Barney mention once that Benrey had wanted to be a musician when he’d been younger.

When Joshua opened the door to the game room, he was greeted with the sight of another Benrey sitting at a piano. Like Other Gordon, Other Benrey was far more put together. He was wearing a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a blue vest, black dress pants, and a blue bowtie. His hair was slicked back against his head, as shiny as the blue buttons that constituted his eyes.

“Hey there, bud!” Other Benrey grinned upon seeing Joshua. “What’s up?”

“You can play the piano?” Joshua whispered, eyes wide with awe.

“Don’t need to. It plays me.” Other Benrey said with a wink.

A pair of gloves on mechanical arms emerged from the top of the piano, the gloves slipping on to Other Benrey’s hands and spinning him around to begin playing. Joshua almost dropped the flashlight as he scrambled forward to get a better look. It was incredible to watch Other Benrey’s fingers fly across the keys, even if it was mostly due to the gloves. 

“That’s so cool!” Joshua exclaimed when Other Benrey had finished. 

“Glad you think so, little man,” Benrey laughed, ruffling Joshua’s hair. “So, what can I do for you?”

“Oh, uh, he said to tell you that dinner’s ready,” Joshua replied, placing his cowboy hat back on his head.

“Oh hell yeah! I’m starving!” Other Benrey grinned, getting to his feet and scooping Joshua up in his arms. “We better not keep him waiting, huh?”

Joshua nodded. The anxiety he’d felt upon seeing the Other Gordon had calmed a bit with this Other Benrey, who was every bit as silly and comforting as the Benrey Joshua knew.

Other Benrey carried Joshua to the dining room, where Other Gordon was dishing up pancakes. 

“Pancakes for dinner?!” Joshua’s eyes lit up as he was set down in his chair. 

Pancakes for dinner was a rare occurrence at their house. Gordon and Benrey were always too tired to make pancakes most of the time.

“Of course,” Other Gordon said with a smile. “This is a very special occasion, which calls for a very special meal.”

“Hope you remembered the fruit, babe,” Other Benrey laughed, snaking an arm around Other Gordon’s waist and kissing him on the cheek.

“How could I forget? It’s your favorite part,” Other Gordon replied, playfully swatting at Other Benrey’s shoulder. 

“You’re together?” Joshua asked, voice small but hopeful.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Other Benrey asked. “We love each other. 

“And we love you,” Other Gordon continued, smiling softly down at Joshua. “We’re so glad to have you here.”

Joshua couldn’t help but smile. After everything that had been going on lately...This was exactly what he’d wanted. 

Gordon and Benrey happy together, not tired or overworked, paying attention to him.

He almost didn’t want to go home.