#saving this so i can always use it when necessary. thank you op

[httpsserene]

CANGRATS ON 3K!!! it alright if you can't but, i was wondering if I could request the car wash kink rating for danny, max, oscar, yuki, and franco with the diy porn prompt

#3k vday celly

🧽🪣 would you like a complimentary car wash? — send me any five (5) drivers and one (1) kink from this list, and i will rank the drivers in order of who i think is most to least likely to participate/avoid, or love/hate that kink !!! each driver will have a small blurb written xxx

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. i always get stuck on writing one of these for some reason lol. have a bunch more requests from the celly that are going to be dropping every night this week morst likely! remember, the last day to submit a celly request is on valentine's day !!!happy 3k 🤍 and thank you for requesting, babe xxx

⌕ 3k v-day celly nav | all 3k requests | main nav | table of contents ↻

𝐦𝐭𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 (𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞) 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 fem!bipoc!reader x mv.1 | dr. 3 | yt. 22 | fc. 43 | op. 81 cw under the cut.

oral and vaginal sex. light humiliation kink in max's drabble?

𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭

Daniel’s eyes are starting to burn under the harsh light of the computer monitor. He’s been half-hard from the moment he started reviewing the raw footage, and he’s tempted to rub one out so he can edit without the constant throbbing of his arousal. Nobody can blame him for getting distracted while he tries to decide which of the three angles he recorded of you riding him in reverse cowgirl is the best. He knew convincing you that buying three separate camera setups was necessary because it allowed him this dilemma. Should he use the angle that shows your chest bouncing from the front? Or, the one from behind, where it shows his muscled abdomen and the plush, brown, skin of your ass marred by bruises of his handprints? Or, the close-up angle that shows where your cunt greedily swallows his cock? It’s an impossible choice, so he decides to alternate between all three. He clicks open File Explorer to save the video, wincing when he sees that the dedicated external hard drive containing all of your sex tapes is 98% full.  

Franco’s struggling to keep his phone steady as your tongue dances around him, moaning loudly when the head of his dick is caught in the warm squeeze of your throat. He looks away from the phone screen to watch the tears spill over your waterline, his groan of pleasure wobbling at the sight. When he looks back, the camera angle has fallen away, only catching the view of his hand lightly resting around your neck. His arm holding the phone is weak, and he has to move his hand from your throat to help focus the lens back on where he’s fucking into your mouth. Capturing the perfect angle becomes unimportant when he drops his phone on the floor to carefully guide you off of his cock, the video’s focus now is the ceiling. The audio paints a much more in-depth picture; sounds of the two of you kissing, the rustling of the bedsheets, skin clapping, the creaking of the bed, and the debauched noises of satisfaction from both of you echoing around the room. It gives him another reason to convince you to let him film another sex tape, and he’ll be sure the sight of him fucking you is front and center.

It’s one of Yuki’s fantasies. He didn’t think he’d ever have the courage to ask if you’d be willing to film a sex tape with him, considering that if it somehow leaked, it would have the potential to ruin your livelihood. One night, during a drunken game of truth or dare, you shyly admitted to wanting to make a sex tape and Yuki took the chance to make his fantasy come true. He’s practically filming in total darkness, the flash of his phone camera solely illuminating where he’s thrusting into you. Even though there are no identifying factors being shown (besides the contrast of your skin tones), he’s incredibly careful about making sure there are no easy tells— keeping your faces out of frame, having you muffle your whimpers into a pillow, and catching his breathy groans behind his hand. He swears the absence of noise coming from your mouths amplifies how wet you sound around him; he can’t wait to see if that’s the case when he watches the video afterward. There’s a feeling dancing at the base of his skull; it’s screaming that he’s some sort of freak for enjoying this, and it has him rushing toward his climax ridiculously quicker than he’d like, but the fluttering of your walls around him lets him know that you’re in the same boat. He wonders if there are any spare face masks hidden somewhere in the apartment; he’d show more than where your bodies meet if your faces are hidden.

Max is camera-shy. He knows it’s kind of ironic, given the amount of cameras that are focused on him on any given race weekend, but he can’t handle the attention during sex. When you both watched your first sex tape, Max was mortified. He can’t believe he looks and sounds like that during sex, the recording showing him just how desperate he is for you. Obviously, he feels the way his body responds to you, but he didn’t expect it to look so debauched on camera. It’s not like he’s ashamed by how good you make him feel, it’s just that he finds it humiliating to see it—regardless of the way you adamantly insisted that you find it hot as fuck. Now that he’s aware of how he looks, whenever the camera is on he isn’t able to devote all of his attention to you because he’s fixated on stifling his reactions—which ruins the point of filming a sex tape, and the fun of sex for both you and him. Max knows the video highlights the furious blush running from his cheeks down to his chest as he distractedly eats you out. He exhales heavily in relief, his scalp stinging deliciously when you tug him away from your cunt with a hand fisted in the mess of his blond hair, and he eagerly rushes to stop and delete the recording before you can even finish saying the words.

Oscar isn’t one to kink shame, but sex tapes are a no-go for him. He thinks it’s irresponsible to record his sex life, especially when you consider the effect it could have on his reputation and career if a video of him were to leak. It’s an irrational fear of his: he thinks that no matter how securely stored the sex tape could be, it would end up on the internet where millions of people would see it and then his reputation would be ruined forever. He’s a little terrified when you send him risqué photos, let alone nudes for that exact reason. It’s not like he doesn’t appreciate it—he thinks you’re mouthwateringly attractive when you’re fully clothed, of course, he appreciates the pictures of you in lingerie or less—but he’s going to scold you for sending it after he gets off to it…because what if that was the exact moment someone hacked into his phone and got their grubby hands on your nudes and posted them? Oscar hears how irrational he sounds when he’s telling you that, but that doesn’t stop him from thinking it. You lovingly call him paranoid, but you do respect his boundaries—he’s much more amenable to seeing you tease yourself with a vibrator live on Facetime rather than watching a recording of the last time you guys had sex. 

𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭

© httpsserene — do not reupload. photos in header from pinterest. mdni divider by @cafekitsune.

[the-stove-is-divorced]

Op i have a question about your writing process

I'm trying to make a project rn, and one of the problem I'm stuck at is making characters feel more than just a few trait. Like, characterization wise, what I'm trying to do is make them more,,, humane??

I'm not sure how to describe it but in your writings, characters always feel like their own selfs? Like, they have words they repeat more than others, they notice certain things faster than other certain things, and even the way they talk is /them/

The way they anger or react to things and all of that is usually unique to their own selves and what I'm trying to ask is, how do you characterize your characters? How do you add more than one layer to them? What exactly do you ask yourself to understand more about these characters?

Just, how do you characterize?

(also bonus question how do I find a destination to my writing? Cause there is several ending in my mind and all depends on a specific character, so what one should I choose and why??)

I’m flattered I can hopefully be of assistance!! (*´▽`*) All of these are difficult questions, but I’ll do my best! And thank you kindly! ♡ This got long, but I wanted to make myself clear!

For characterizations, I think about a lot of things that I'm condensing into the main question(s) of:

How and how often do they get in their own way? What do they fear, what do they want, and how do they act upon both? Are they actually successful in both? Either one? Do they think they're successful in either? How do they cope with failure? With victory? What's their mood? And then how would that mood impact their goal, like how their fears will impact their pursuits of xyz.

"Want -> but fear -> so act" setups help me keep characters in character! Like how Mark wants to save lives, but he's scared of confronting his father, so he's convinced someone else should handle his Dad. MK also wants to save the day, but he's scared he isn't worthy, so he's trying to prove himself by dealing with the enemy (mostly) on his own. Steven 2.0 (more fear driven) wants to prove his way of thinking is correct, but is scared his way he's lived was never necessary, so he doubles down to avoid thinking he was wrong. This helps gives their general goals way more shape, as their fears narrow down their decisions, and in turn, makes them feel more human, especially when they make mistakes (getting in their own way)!

Wanting this, but they fearing this, so they do this, also what helps me just destinations! Imma use how much can you fit under your skin as an example again, considering it's actually completed! Keep in mind I am a "chapter by chapter with vague plot points or scene(s) in mind that are barely connected" kind of author, as I am not a detailed planner and will never be ＼٩(๑`^´๑)۶／

Anyways, MK's main problem is he doesn't think he's worthy (via above), and his mood is notably anxious (he has his worst enemy in his head), desperate (to somehow succeed in doing this on his own), and irritable (from stress), SO he's more prone to make mistakes (which he’ll beat himself up about) and thus get in his own way. Now we can guess where the story will go (failure and desperation), because as more things fail, the more MK will unravel, worsening his moods until uh oh! Breaking point. ٩(× ×)۶

It’s also way easier to guess where the story needs to end, emotionally, by how they start. If MK starts the fic thinking he’s not good enough/unworthy, he needs to remember that he always good enough by the end (for a happy ending at least). If he doesn’t depend on anyone to help him, he should succeed only because they are helping him (lesson learned, huzzah!). How this happens depends on how you set this all up and how much you’re gonna bring back. Like, in this fic, MK constantly compares LBD to ice, painfully cold, so by contrast he needs warmth, which meant I needed to bring in something to create that warmth, hence bringing in the trigun furnace in the last chapter!

In terms of specific narrative characterizations from pov, like what words they use, what they repeat, what they stress, paying attention to their dialogue and guessing what they would say, are much harder for me to explain tbh (″ロ゛) !!! I write dialogue by literally imagining whether or not I can hear them saying this (mostly, and I'll re-watch clips of them speaking to help with this). I also consider whether this character would be this honest? This blunt? Additionally, do they ramble? When do they ramble? Do they choose their words carefully, or more loosely? And internally, what do they misunderstand? What do they miss? Do their thoughts contradict their feelings/actions? Are they trying to convince themselves something? And again, mood! Do their fears/anger/pride get in the way of what they understand?

I think misunderstands, misconceptions, limitations help make them feel human. What do they miss? How do they limit themselves? What mistakes do they make? Which sounds incredibly negative, but I found it very compelling, haha! (///￣ ￣///) Failure and success are equally important for characters, especially what it takes for them to accomplish either.

I hope these are helpful? Again, I've never really reflected on my own process beforehand, and I'm certainty not an expert by a long shot! ヾ(。＞＜)シ A lot of my writing is constant re-working, rewording, complete overhauls and scrapped chunks, if not whole chapters. I pride myself on focusing on consistent characterization (on top of being very flowery and descriptive since it's what I would want to read), as it's infinitely compelling thinking about putting a mf in a situation. If they act out of character, why put them in this situation in the first place?

Again, hope this helps in any way possible! (´꒳`)♡ Please let me know if I need to elaborate on anything, I'll do my best. (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[a-force-dyad-in-space]

Me, in my XY feels after rewatching Yi City last night: Let me check the character tag for some nice content about him

Me, while checking the character tag: *sees the most misguided takes about his character, incl. one where OP genuinely believed he would still be the bloodlusty, revenge-filled monster, even if he'd grown up in security like WWX without going through the trauma of losing his finger*

Do I think he likely would have grown up with resentful feelings toward YZY if she'd whipped him growing up? Sure, if that had been the case, but I don't think she would have resented him enough to do so.

Why, you ask? Because the main reason why JFM was so attached to WWX and YZY felt so threatened in regards to JC's neglectment was because of his history with WWX's parents, especially his mother. XY has no relations to WWX's parents, has no history with the Jiang clan, thus YZY would have had no reason to treat him the way she treated WWX.

Ergo, his growing up with them likely would have been very peaceful for the most part and he probably would have grown up loved, sheltered and a lot more emotionally stable. Can I imagine him being quick to anger? Sure, but not necesserarily out of his own volition but by osmosis of having grown up with YZY (whose character traits also heavily influenced JC). He and JC might have ended up pretty similar, but not necessarily.

It was never that XY had no sense of justice, his sense of justice was just always inflated and self-centered. No one, and I mean NO ONE, was looking out for him and his safety and comfort, so him looking out for himself first by whatever means necessary was a natural consequence.

He was abused by pretty much everyone he ever met (he himself said he was ALWAYS beaten up by everyone) UNTIL Xiao Xingchen saved his life in Yi City. That was LITERALLY the first time anyone had ever shown him genuine kindness in his life.

"And he thanked him by using his blindness against him, bla bla bla, so that's proof that he always would have been a monster even if people were nice to him, wah wah wah" I'm sorry, but did you miss the part where he'd already been through 20+ years of trauma at that point??? You really, genuinely think that a XY who had never gone through any of his childhood and adolescent trauma would still have made the exact same choices he made in canon???

Sure, his trauma is not an excuse for his behavior, but then again, his behavior probably would not exist without it.

He's a very loving person when he allows himself to be, even though he doesn't know that what he's experiencing is love and devotion, no matter how messed up it may look.

And we all know the tricking-XXC-into-killing-innocents thing only happened for a limited time; eventually, he stopped doing that. He loved living with XXC and AQ, that much is evident. If SL hadn't shown up, he would have kept living with them until the end.

Anyway, those bad takes just disappointed me, and they worry me with how little sympathy or compassion there seem to be behind them.

[thecircularsystem]

GOD. THANK YOU.

This entire time I’ve been trying to get a concrete hypothetical from someone that’s something more than “persecutors making suspicious requests” because “suspicious request” means literally nothing to me. Now I can actually discuss this.

Firstly: I have always advocated for more moderation. Literally never once have I not. I think that BAH blogs being aware of what they’re posting is a good idea.

But let’s go through your examples:

Someone requests a RL serial killer introject. “Wouldn’t that be disrespectful?” Nope. First place my brain went to was the trauma I have surrounding school shootings, and developing a part to hold that shooting trauma. I’m lucky enough that we have parts who can break that trauma up and divide it amongst themselves already. I don’t think it’s disrespectful at all, so long as it’s properly tagged and, perhaps, a disclaimer that introjects are not their source.

Someone requesting abusive behaviors? What a shocker. I poured all of my abusive behaviors at 16-17 into my created part, purposefully creating someone abusive in my system, knowing this would be abusive. That’s because it saved my life to push those things into another part. It also feels rude to suggest that systems just “don’t get that certain behaviors are abusive.” Many of us fully comprehended what we wanted.

The last one… that’s where dignity of risk comes in. If BAH blogs existed when I was a teen, I absolutely would’ve requested our Debra — our torturer and abuser. Because she was necessary and needed for my survival. I needed that. And she would’ve requested LED — because, despite the rest of us not understanding, he was needed too. Is it self harm? Yes! I’m not saying it wasn’t. But harm reduction > avoiding it entirely. If I hadn’t had those experiences, I would be dead.

So, I do not agree that these requests are inherently bad. I believe they have the potential to cause harm. Furthermore, the ORIGINAL discussion was about “persecutors creating parts to reenact trauma and triggers.” And while, yes, sometimes this is to reenact horrible trauma…

Some triggers are things like red hair. (Personal example.) It is dangerous for BAH blogs to make headmates with red hair for me, and I’m not even kidding, it was a determining factor for why I don’t look at BAH blogs. They’re immensely triggering for me, in very minor ways — name triggers, color triggers, the works. I’ve avoided them for those reasons and worked through my problems, but… if BAH blogs existed when I was in high school? I would’ve requested a red haired anime dweeb named [redacted] who liked emo music.

Would the BAH blog DM me to ask for verification of why? Would they let me know the potential harm of red hair?

That’s why the argument falls flat. Everything has a potential to be harmful. A part as I just described would’ve been far, far more harmful for us than the literal demon we did create. But the latter looks more like the gun from your analogy, so that’s what people have been moralizing about.

But… I DO agree there should be moderation! That’s not a bad take, not at all!!!

Make posts with explicit disclaimers that introjects are not their source, and that all parts have the ability to grow and heal.

NEVER take a request that makes you uncomfortable. I think people should really be telling the BAH blogs this; so many of them are young (which is another big concern to me) and feel pressured in these communities to take every request, or else they feel they’ll be pushed out.

If someone requests something that feels concerning to you, and you have the energy:spoons, I don’t think it’s bad to DM… if it’s impacting YOU. Again, nobody has provided a template conversation until your post, so up until this point, it’s seemed like the only way to “verify” is to know someone’s personal trauma. I know OP of the original take had said that wasn’t the intention, but I’m bewildered how that’s not the case when asking for “verification.”

Your example: I would immediately feel the need to justify my request. I would have to share intensely personal trauma with a complete stranger. “This is disturbing.” Yeah. I’m a traumatized person. It’s going to be disturbing. “We have to work that out before I post it.” What??? You… a complete stranger on the internet, need to work through my trauma? That feels intensely uncomfortable, to the degree I would stop using BAH blogs. It would be even more intensely uncomfortable since my persecutors I would request would never raise red flags, but the caretakers and protectors would. I would be denied the helpers in my system due to the assumption that I don’t understand my own trauma.

When I think it works: “Hey, your request has made me uncomfortable due to [XYZ]. I’ve decided not to post it. If you’d like guidance, here’s [BAH user who is comfortable with these requests]. And hey — if you want to talk about the reasons why you need a part like that, I’m all ears.” This is an open invitation. It’s YOUR comfort being focused on, with the ability for the user to make their own choice on how they handle it. If they’re not ready to work through that trauma, then they aren’t; it’s no skin off my back because I’m not their medical team. The most I can do in that hypothetical is make headmate bios, which is basically writing up OCs.

Lastly, since this post is long and I’d like to just stop talking about BAH blogs eventually (lol), my mind just goes to my OCs. I write up bios for my characters all the time. My characters are depressed, suicidal, hypersexual, and a million more things. Many of them are abusive since they’re antagonists in the stories. All of this discussion seems to be centered on, “BAH blogs need to be aware that people can hurt themselves using their content, and they need to prevent that hurt as much as possible.”

And, while I agree with the concept of that italicized section, I dislike what I’ve been seeing from the discussion — because of my OCs.

I tag my fics accordingly. I post under a mature tag. But that will not stop people from ignoring the tags, bypassing mature labels, and hurting themselves. It’s entirely possible someone introjects an abuser from one of my fanfics.

Should I personally verify those who read them to ensure they know the content and how the content may be harmful? Or should I just work under the assumption that they have the dignity of risk?

Because it seems like the only other option is, “don’t ever post anything that may be harmful.” And I’ve got some bad news for folks with red hair if that’s the case.

i've seen sooo many people on the opposite side of this debate about BAH blogs say something like "so we should stop selling knives because they can be used to harm?" uh no, nobody said that. you literally just pulled that out of your ass.

1) nobody is arguing to get rid of BAH blogs, which is what this metaphor implies, and 2) adding a vetting process to a blog where people are giving out headmate templates is not analogous to banning knives because nothing is being removed. this argument is completely facetious and i don't understand how we got here.

so here's my metaphor to explain my opinion: look at the way guns/gun licenses in the US are sold in many states. it's typically a two week (give or take) waiting period and lots of paperwork. sometimes things like gun safety classes. sure, this doesn't stop all the shootings that could happen in these states, but by preventing people from just walking into a gun shop and getting both a gun license and a gun in the same day, these states are making it more difficult for gun violence to occur.

me saying that these blogs should have a vetting process is equivalent to that situation. not equivalent to banning knives lmfao???

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

In Times Past

Character: Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bruce Wayne’s life doesn’t exist beyond the fake storylines he performs for the media and citizens of Gotham. Maybe the only person that can change that is someone who knew him before Batman ever even existed. 

Word Count: 8,200+ [One Shot]

Warnings: Violence, mentions of sexual harrassment

A/N: As I teased before, this was inspired by this scene from Batman Begins. 

Bruce could sense Alfred’s tension when he walked into the kitchen that morning. The man was not one to hold back his thoughts and feelings. It was both a blessing and a curse. But Bruce sensed it was the latter today.

Before Bruce could even get a sip of coffee in, Alfred tossed the Sunday newspaper in front of him.

On the front page was a photo of Batman, far too high of a resolution for Bruce’s liking. ‘BATMAN: SAVIOR OR MENACE?’ the headline read.

“A little too close for comfort, don’t you think?” Alfred asked with a hint of sass.

However, Bruce controlled his reaction.

“Not the first time I’ve been photographed, Alfred.”

“You’re dancing with the devil, Master Wayne.”

“So, what? You want me to lay down the cape because everyone in America has the ability to take a photo on their cellphone?”

“Of course not,” Alfred retorted. Though Alfred secretly wished every day that Bruce would say goodbye to the Batman. “I just thought perhaps you should be putting a bit more effort into Bruce Wayne’s life if you really want to throw Gotham off your trail.”

Then he tossed another newspaper. This one of Bruce Wayne, the other mask he wore.

‘Bruce Wayne Lights Up the Room at Charity Ball.’

Alfred points to the date…it was 9 months ago. And it was unfortunately the last time Bruce Wayne was in the press.

“You better start creating alibis, Master Wayne, or the dark web will start to putting two and two together…”

Bruce sighed. He knew Alfred was right. But he hated all that went with what he had to do. He’d rather face off with Gotham’s deadliest criminals than go galavanting around the city as the self-absorbed and reckless playboy persona that he’d created.

“There is a birthday party for Eaton Elliot next weekend. Naturally, being old family friends, you received an invitation,” Alfred explained. “Plenty of press will be there to note your attendance. Seems rather convenient."

Bruce recognized the name. It was the older brother of Thomas Elliot, a childhood friend that he slightly lost touch with. He’d see him or his parents at various events, and things were always cordial.

But it didn’t really matter how absent or quiet Bruce was when it came to maintaining such relationships. Everyone forgave such behavior when it came to saving face with the only living member of the Wayne family. Bruce could spit in the faces of Gotham’s elite and they’d probably thank him for it.

“Black tie affair, as always,” Alfred added as he slipped the invitation to Bruce. “Perhaps you could bring a date…”

Bruce glared up at the butler. “Dates make it harder to make a quick and quiet exit, Alfred.”

“Well, maybe that’s the point, Master Wayne.”

————

Just like he was on patrol or working on an op, Bruce had prepared for every single scenario. He made a plan that would be the most effective in the shortest amount of time. He didn’t want to torture himself any longer than absolutely necessary.

When Alfred asked him again if he was planning on bringing a date, Bruce had only replied with a mischievous smirk.

Because he walked in with a girl on each arm.

It wasn’t the classy or gentlemanly thing to do. And that was exactly the point.

Conversations paused, attention was turned, and flashes went off.

Bruce Wayne made his entrance.

He carefully fell into the groove of being the spoiled brat everyone had painted him out to be. It had been awhile since he played the part, but Bruce always found it easy when he was surrounded by these kinds of people.

Bruce made sure to slightly slur his words. He would get too handsy with his dates. He would rudely interrupt people to share his own useless opinion on whatever topic was leading the conversation. He never looked waitstaff in the eye.

But now it was time for the finale.

Bruce whispered a certain suggestion into the ears of his dates.

They shared a look that proved they were both game.

The three of them stumbled into a bathroom – one out in the open that most of the guests would be steered toward.

The kissing began and clothes were quickly shifted.

There was a split moment when Bruce wondered what this would feel like for a man who actually wanted to be in this situation.

The two woman managed unbuckle his belt, the clanking metal echoing in the all-tile bathroom.

But just as they unbuttoned and then unzipped his pants, Bruce’s cellphone rang loudly.

Right on cue.

“Ladies, ladies, ladies,” Bruce whined. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” his words stumbled out. “But I just have to take this call.”

“Aww. Brucie. You’re no fun,” one of the women fussed.

But Bruce gave off enough dominate energy that they didn’t try to fight him on it.

Hair disheveled, mouth swollen and pink, lipstick stains on his skin and his pants and belt barely put back together, Bruce stumbled out of the bathroom first.

The two women didn’t bother to stay back and spread out their exits, making it very clear what had just happened – or what it looked like just happened.

It didn’t matter that Bruce didn’t actually have sex with them, every woman in Gotham wanted to say they’d shared a bed with Bruce Wayne. His two dates would lie to save face and get street cred. Bruce hated that he knew that, that it was guaranteed.

Dozens of people, who were socializing near the bathroom, stopped what they were doing and watched with judgmental looks. Some men looked jealous. Some women looked disgusted and eyed the two women up and down.

Then there was the flash of a camera.

Bingo.

Bruce wouldn’t have to linger much longer now.  

He played up being somewhat embarrassed.

But just as he put his phone to his ear to take the fake call that Alfred dialed, he saw the last person he expected.

It caused him to do a double take and freeze. 

His focus fell for a moment as they made eye contact.

Why did she have to be here?

Why did she have to be one of his witnesses?

Why did it hurt so much to see how she looked at him as if he were a stranger?

And why did she have to look so god damn beautiful?

Y/F/N Y/L/N.

The Y/L/N family were another one of Gotham’s elite – well, they used to be.

Y/N’s father was once worth billions. But being born into wealth didn’t guarantee intelligence or the skills to properly run the family business. When Bruce and Y/N were in high school, Y/N’s father filed for bankruptcy and confessed that the family was about to lose everything. With the announcement, the press also exposed Mr. Y/L/N’s many lustful affairs.

What came next was a messy and brutal divorce that the media ate up.  

Out of spite, Y/N’s mother remarried her ex-husband’s biggest competitor, maintaining her status and wealth, and making sure she still came out on top. It was the greatest revenge and even Y/N had to give her mother credit for the ingenuity of it all.

Bruce remembered how terrible it all was for Y/N, who was used as a pawn in her parents war against each other.

Having had enough of it, Y/N fled Gotham and chose to live with her eccentric great aunt in London and finished her last year of high school there.

But Y/N didn’t run away from Bruce. They emailed, texted, video chatted, called.

They had always been good friends.

The elites of Gotham always suspected the two would get married. But both Bruce and Y/N pretended to ignore such whisperings.

But when Bruce shifted his life, when he changed his life’s purpose, when he started becoming a vigilante…he stopped taking Y/N’s calls and he stopped returning them.

He told himself it was better that way. He couldn’t handle any distractions. Batman didn’t have time for personal relationships, so neither did Bruce Wayne. But more importantly, Y/N deserved someone who would prioritize her – even just as a friend.

Now Bruce needed to get actually drunk.

Putting the phone back to his ear, he broke eye contact and made a beeline for one of the bars. 

“Did you forget to tell me about the guest list, Alfred?” Bruce muttered evenly to the phone, knowing that Alfred would easily be able to hear his anger and irritation.

“How was I to know who RSVPed yes or no…” Alfred bit back. But he knew exactly who Bruce was looking at.

Bruce frowned as he ended the call abruptly and asked for a whiskey.

“I don’t know, man. She’s not my type,” a man said to his friend.

The two of them were just a foot or two away from Bruce.

“What do you mean ‘not your type’? She’s fucking hot.”

“Don’t get me wrong, she’s beautiful. But she’s so stiff and uptight. Look, she’s had a resting bitch face all night.”

Bruce’s grip on his face tightened as he easily put together who they were talking about. It was moments like these that Bruce hated being lumped together with men like this.

“You’re an idiot,” the friend said with a laugh.

“Oh, yeah? Alright. If you’re so obsessed with her, why don’t you go over and talk to her?”

Bruce saw his window. 

With a sloppy haste, Bruce turned right into the two men and just happened to spill his drink over the man who was about to make a move on Y/N.

Bruce laughed and spilled another drink on the bar as he tried to grab some nearby cocktail napkins. “Gentleman, gentleman…I so dearly apologize.”

Both of them were clearly annoyed, but then realized who he was.  

Bruce gripped them by the shoulders and made sure his eyes were struggling to stay open. “I could be wrong…but it’s possible…that I have been over served.”

He broke out into a chuckle and both men forced their own laughter.

Bruce subtle glanced over to where Y/N had been standing. She’d disappeared.

He’d spared her…for now.

“I think it’s time I go home,” Bruce told them too loudly. “Do me a favor? Wish her congratulations for me?”

The two men looked at one another. “Congratulations? To who?”

Bruce frowned in confusion and looked around. “Isn’t this an engagement party?”

They tried to hide their laughter. “Wayne, this is a birthday party. For Eaton Elliot.”

Bruce’s brows shot up. “A birthday party? Look at that!”

Then he turned around, zigzagged his walk, and threw a wave over his shoulder.

But Bruce wasn’t that lucky.

Because when he made his way to the valet, he found Y/N waiting patiently with her back to him. 

Her fancy dress and gloves seemed to do nothing to help protect her from the cold night. 

Bruce could’ve left. He could’ve left her alone, gone back into the party, and made more of a fool of himself.

But next thing he knew, he was walking forward.  

“Waiting for your car?”

Y/N didn’t turn to him, but it was clear that she heard his question and recognized who it had come from. “I didn’t drive. They’re getting me a cab.”

Bruce nodded slowly even though she wasn’t looking at him.

All charm had left his body now that he had quit the act. It wasn’t going to do any favors for him. He needed to do this on his own, as his real self.

Y/N finally turned with a slight attitude and Bruce was taken aback at how she was even more beautiful up close.

“What are you doing here, Bruce?”

He smirked. “I’m here for the party, of course.” He didn’t want to play the part anymore – not with her. But it was second nature at this point.

Her lips pursed at his response.

“Leaving so soon?” He asked.

Y/N sighed. “Between you and me, I’m only here as a favor to my mother. She wouldn’t get off my back about coming. I tried to leave sooner, but…”

One of the valets hopped up the steps. “I’m sorry, Dr. Y/L/N. It can take awhile to get cabs in the area at this time of night.”

Y/N gave him a sympathetic smile and opened her mouth to say she’d walk home.

“I’ll drive her home,” Bruce spoke before she could. Then he handed the valet his ticket.

Y/N looked at him with confusion and a bit of annoyance. “You really don’t have to do that.”

Bruce just gave her a look that said he absolutely did.

Then Y/N gestured back to the party. “You’re just gonna abandon your dates?”

The way she asked made it clear that Y/N had seen Bruce stumble out of the bathroom with the two of them. He also didn’t miss how she emphasized the plural.

“They’ll be fine,” Bruce told her.

He took a step toward her. “Let me give you a ride, Y/N.”

She took in a deep breath.

She knew she needed the ride. Only an idiot would walk home at this time of night, even if the walk to her apartment was a relatively safe one for Gotham standards.

Y/N just nodded.

A minute later, an Aston Martin drove up.

Bruce offered his arm to Y/N and helped her down the stairs before opening the passenger door for her.

He handed the valet a few bills, not even noticing they were all hundreds.

“Where to?” Bruce asked her.

“Oh, umm…” Y/N quickly gave him her address.

“I know you’ve been gone awhile, but you definitely shouldn’t be walking around the streets of Gotham at night.”

Y/N scoffed. “I’m aware. I moved back awhile ago.”

“Oh. I didn’t know…”

“Yeah. Well, why would you? It’s not like you kept in touch.”

The car filled with silence.

Y/N stared out the passenger window, looking at the skyscraper lights of Gotham

It seemed Y/N had no issue with staying silent for the whole car ride.There was nothing awkward about it for her.

But Bruce knew there were things he needed to say. “I’m sorry.”

This was the last thing Y/N expected and her head whipped to him.

But Bruce kept his eyes on the road. “For disappearing like I did.”

Y/N slowly turned back to the passenger window and said nothing.

Bruce didn’t expect to win her forgiveness. He would have to deal with that. But at least he could apologize.

“Y/N.” Bruce said it ever so quietly, like he was forbidden from speaking it. “This isn’t…I’m not…” Dammit.��What was he even trying to accomplish right now? “Back there–”

“Back there?” Y/N interrupted his fumbling. “Oh, you mean the threesome you had in a bathroom at a party?”

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

Everyone bought his performance. Unfortunately, even Y/N.

Bruce pulled over and Y/N realized they were at her building already.

“You can say whatever makes you feel good, Bruce. Have at it.” Then she threw open the car door.

She put her hand on the handle to help herself out.

But she hesitated.

No. She wasn’t going down without a fight.

Y/N spun around to face Bruce, his blue eyes already waiting for her.

“You used to be kind. Strong and brave. You were better than all of them.”

And for the first time, Bruce really saw the damage he had done.

“Is that boy really gone?” She searched his eyes for the answer. “What is the act and what is the truth?” She whispered. “Huh, Bruce?”

He wanted to tell her.

Bruce had never felt the urge to expose his secret ever before.

But right now? Right now, he wanted to take Y/N back to the manor, drag her down to the cave, and show her all of his secrets – every single one.

But he couldn’t. And he knew that.

Bruce kept his face reserved.

His brow furrowed for just a second as he took Y/N in. All of her. Her eyelashes. Her lips. The styling of her hair. The dip of her neck.

“You became quite the woman, Y/N.” He told her. “And a beautiful one at that.”

Y/N blinked at the statement. Her mind desperately tried to decipher the hidden message in his words, in his actions from the night. But she came up with nothing.

She wanted to say that she knew he was using flattery to divert her attention from what she wanted to know. But it was also clear that he genuinely meant what he said as well. His eyes seeming to be taking in every moment of being in her presence.

If Y/N weren’t so irritated, she probably would’ve been more taken aback by his compliment, feeling vulnerable and almost embarrassed.

There wasn’t any point in pushing.

So Y/N took in a breath. “Thank you for the ride, Bruce.”

He just nodded. Then he watched her walk to the door of her apartment building. He probably lingered a few moments too long, but he couldn’t bring himself to once again put distance between them.

————

Alfred brought down food and an espresso to the cave.

When he looked up, Y/F/N Y/L/N’s face was on the giant screen.

“Working on a case, Master Wayne?” He asked with his usual sarcasm.

Bruce ignored the question. “She attended undergrad in Metropolis and then went to grad school in New York City.”

“Yes, I can see that…considering you have her student records exploited all over the screen,” Alfred responded with a smirk. “She’s been living in Gotham again for a few years, working as a psychiatrist. Even volunteers her services at Arkham – pro bono.”

That caught Bruce’s attention. He turned away from the screen to look at Alfred.

“I found no record of that,” he argued.

“Yes. Well, her mother is rather embarrassed by it. Thinks it gives the family a bad image. She insisted Y/N’s philanthropy was kept secret, even approved the NDAs herself.”

Bruce gave him a look, utterly confused how Alfred had access to such information.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “Never underestimate the power of gossip, Master Wayne. Most family secrets cannot be found on the dark corners of the internet.” Then he smirked. “You would gain quite the knowledge if you didn’t turn your nose up at it.”

Bruce smiled at that and turned back to the computer.

“So, I take it that it was good seeing her?” Alfred pressed.

Bruce tensed at the question. “Not entirely. I’m certain that she hates me.”

“Hates you or hates the character you’ve so carefully created?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just Bruce Wayne to her.”

Alfred opened his mouth to say more.

“Leave it, Alfred.” Bruce cut off before he could.

“Well, it appears I’m not the one struggling with leaving it alone, Master Wayne.”

Like many of Gotham’s elites, Alfred had humored the idea that Bruce and Y/N would make a marvelous couple. Like Bruce, Y/N didn’t let money and power sway her morals or damage her good and kind heart.

Alfred had always enjoyed having her over and listening to her and Bruce’s laughter as they caused trouble around the manor and entertained themselves.

But he also saw how her departure effected Bruce, no matter how much the teenager had tried to hide it at the time.

Maybe Alfred was an optimist or a romantic, but he still believed there was a chance for the two of them. But Bruce, quite frankly, would have to get over himself and his stubbornness.

————

Bruce was looking down at the city from yet another rooftop. It had been a quiet night. And he hated nights like that. It was always ended up being the calm before a storm.

“Batman?” Alfred spoke into his comms.

“Yes.”

“It appears there’s been a breakout at Arkham. The media hasn’t caught wind of it yet. But law enforcement has already been dispatched.”

“I’m on my way,” Bruce announced as he slid down a fire escape and made his way to the batmobile that he’d hidden in the shadows of an alley.

“Master Wayne…” Alfred knew to only use codenames on comms.

Bruce tense. “What is it?”

There was hesitation from the butler. “Y/N was scheduled to work a shift there tonight…”

Bruce said nothing. But his foot pressed the gas pedal down further than necessary.

—

Y/N was sitting with a patient when the alarm went off.

The people that worked there called them inmates, and corrected her every time she chose not to use that title.

Harleen Quinzel had been sitting across from Y/N for almost 30 minutes when they were interrupted.

“Oh, fun!” Harley clapped and giggled as the sirens filled their ears.

Harley and Y/N had formed an interesting relationship. The criminal seemed to like her and looked forward to her visits. She never threatened Y/N or tried to manipulate her.

Y/N believes she won her over by addressing her as Dr. Quinzel and often asking her professional opinions on trends and news in their industry. 

Most people there only referred to Harley as if she was property of the Joker, no matter how many times Harley clarified that she wasn’t his anything anymore.

“Does this happen a lot?” Y/N asked her, trying to remain calm.

“Not enough, if ya ask me!” She laughed.

Y/N made the mistake of opening the door and seeing that the majority of the cells had been opened and prisoners were slowly making their way into the hallway.

“Not good,” Y/N muttered.

“Don’t worry, doc. I’ll protect ya! Us gals gotta stick together.” Harley said from behind her shoulder.

Y/N whipped around and looked at her and then at the table she’d been sitting at. “Dr. Quinzel! How did you get out of your restraints?”

“Oh, I’ve always been able to. I just leave ‘em on to be polite.”

Y/N sighed. No one had explained any sort of protocol for such a situation.

“Where the fuck are all the guards?” Y/N asked.

Suddenly the lights shut off.

“Yippy!” Harley cheered.

Y/N turned to her and softly grabbed her shoulder, but gave her an insistent look. “Harley, we need to get somewhere safe.”

Her face did dip to serious for a moment. “You don’t need to worry about me. But you’re right. Not everyone in here appreciates a shrink…”

To her surprise, Harley starts pulling her through the darkness with a purpose.

Y/N had no idea where she was planning on taking her. It seemed all the doors were in lock-down mode, leaving her stranded. If she survived tonight, she’d definitely be bringing that up to the board.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Y/N yelped at the sound.

Someone had either gotten a hold of a gun or security guards were opening fire.

Either way, it caused chaos to erupt.

Suddenly the dark hallways were being filled with a stampede of prisoners. Either they wanted to take down the guard who was shooting or they were getting an adrenaline rush at the concept of their peers attacking their wardens.

The crowd ripped the two women apart. Y/N was shoved up against the wall and her head slammed against the cement.

Y/N swore under her breath from the pain.

“Is that…No, it can’t be…”

A voice called out over the madness.

A chill went up Y/N’s spine. She’d know that voice anywhere.

The Joker.

He wasn’t one of her patients. All researchers and doctors were forbidden to speak with him – especially after what happened with Harley.

But that didn’t stop the Joker from knowing who Y/N was. He whined and whined about feeling left out. “All my pals get to chat with her and all I get to do is look!”

Now, Joker was free from him isolation.

Y/N suspected he was behind the breakout.

And he was going to make a slight detour. A detour that was doing whatever the hell he wanted to with Dr. Y/L/N.

Y/N didn’t even bother hiding her fear. With a new found strength and endurance, she started shoving her way through the mob.

“I hear you and my pumpkin’ pie have gotten close.” Then his smile dropped. “Too close, if ya ask me.”

Y/N ignored him as another prisoner shoved into her shoulder.

“I don’t appreciate you putting ideas in her head!”

Y/N stopped, realizing she had miscalculated her escape and had come to a dead end.

So she slowly turned around to face him, putting her back to the wall. “And what ideas are those?”

“Independence. Self respect. A life beyond crime and incarceration,” he spat.

Y/N realized he had his goonies flanking him, only making her odds that much worse.

“Those aren’t ideas. They’re a reality, a possible future,” she defended.

Joker didn’t like that answer one bit. He threw himself against her, once again slamming Y/N into the wall.

He gripped her chin roughly and smiled with his yellow teeth. “You know…she’s not the only doctor I’d like to break in. And in more ways than one, if you catch my drift,” he giggled.

Then his eyes raked over her body, up and down. His hands slid down her hips and the side of her legs until they got to the hem of her pencil skirt.

Y/N shoved him away with all of her strength. 

But that earned her a slap across the face from him.

Joker gripped her waist tightly pressing her between the wall and his body. “I’m in charge now, doc. And I’ve got a few lessons to teach you.”

His hands grabbed at the buttons of her blouse and with one jerk, he ripped open her her blouse.

But before he could go any further, a few of his lackeys cried out in pain. 

Y/N swore she heard the sound of objects whipping through the darkness. 

She didn’t want to let herself feel any relief. But she hoped Harley had made her way back to her. She’d probably pack an even heavier punch once she realized Y/N needed protecting from her asshole ex.

But when Joker turned around and Y/N followed his gaze, Harley was nowhere to be found.

Yet three men were on the ground, unconscious.

“Well, well, well,” Joker muttered in amusement. “Has Batsy come out to play?”

Next thing Y/N saw was a shadow dropping down out of nowhere and taking out even more of Joker’s men.

Joker seemed to be prepared for such an interruption. Because he grabbed a knife from somewhere hidden on his body and ripped Y/N off the wall. He pressed Y/N’s back to his chest and put the tip of his knife to her throat.

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” Joker sang.

To Y/N’s shock, Batman stepped into what little light was in the hallway.

“Long time, no see!” Joker screamed so loudly that Y/N flinched. “Did you miss me, Batsy? And you came all this way to see little old me?! How very sweet!”

“Your attempted escape was a failure,” Batman stated. “There’s nowhere for you to go. All the exits are blocked. Arkham has been contained.”

“What a shame! I really felt this one was gonna work!” Joker laughed.

Batman took a step toward him. “It’s over, Joker.”

“You’re probably right,” Joker shrugged. “But I really wanted to have some fun with doc here. So, if you could give us some privacy.”

Batman’s eyes flickered to Y/N’s for a brief moment. “Let her go,” he warned.

“How about…no?” Joker laughed.

Just as Batman was about to make his move, Y/N grabbed the wrist of Joker’s arm that held the knife. She twisted it and dived in such a succinct motion that it was obvious Y/N had been trained.

Whipping herself out of Joker’s grip, she twisted Joker’s arm so roughly and quickly behind his back that he had no choice but to drop his knife from the pain.

Then Y/N was now facing him, and with one swift swing of her leg, she kicked him right in the groan.

Batman saw his opening and rushed forward, cuffing Joker in place.

While Batman neutralized him, Y/N stumbled for the knife that Joker had dropped, still not feeling safe and out of danger.

She looked around, realizing that the police had filtered in and apprehended all the escaped prisoners. Some were already locked back into their cells. Other’s were in handcuffs with guns being pointed at them in warning.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” his voice made her whip back around.

How the hell did Batman know her name?

She squinted wearily at him.

“You can drop the knife,” Batman told her quietly.

Y/N blinked and looked down at her hand, having forgotten that she even grabbed the knife. And she now had a vice-like grip on it.

Her hands were shaking when she dropped the knife and the clatter echoed in the hallway.

She eyed the Joker, not trusting any sort of weapon to be in his vicinity, despite being handcuffed now.

“He’s not going anywhere,” Batman noted, as if he could read her mind and hear the concerns she was thinking.

Police officers surrounded them now.

“Until next time, doc!” Joker sang loudly.

Batman stepped between him and Y/N, shielding her from even being seen by the lunatic.

Y/N eyed him, wondering if he did that on purpose.

“This way,” he directed lowly as he led her out of the hallway.

Y/N was surprised when he escorted her all the way out of the building.

Wasn’t this supposed to be Gotham’s Dark Knight? A disappearing act? An urban legend that some people still didn’t believe in?

When they got outside, there were even more officers. The night was flickering blue and red from all the patrol car’s lights still being on.

Commissioner Gordon was having a field day with Arkham’s warden, yelling at him about lack of protocol and no protection for the volunteers and workers that had gotten caught in the crossfire.

But finally, the reality of what just happened was starting to set in for Y/N. And she realized that her entire body was shaking.

All of a sudden, a blanket was wrapped around her shoulders.

She looked up to see that Batman had draped it over her. When and where he’d grabbed it, she had no clue. But the warmth was helping, so she didn’t question it.

“Thank you…for saving me back there.”

Was that a smirk on his lips? Was Batman amused by her?

Why was it so comforting when he was a mere stranger?

And his eyes, even when they were surrounded by a cowl and dark paint, they still felt familiar. Y/N had a similar feeling to deja vu.

“Looked like you had it handled,” he replied.

“Oh, I definitely didn’t. But thank god for those self-defense classes.”

They looked into each other’s eyes for a second.

“Make sure you get checked out by the paramedics,” he told her gently, but insistent.

It was far too gentle for his Batman alter ego. But she caught how it sounded like it personally mattered to him.

Y/N looked behind her, where the ambulance was.

But when she turned back around, Batman was gone.

Next thing Y/N knew, she was being surrounded by two paramedics and Commissioner Gordon who was careful not to push her by asking too many questions at once.

“Does he always do that?” She asked him in a daze.

“Do what?” Gordon asked.

“Disappear like that?”

Gordon smiled and nodded. “Annoying, isn’t it?”

———

“What’s the gossip of the privileged this week?” Bruce asked Alfred at breakfast a few days after the outbreak.

“Something specific you’re looking for, Master Wayne?” Alfred asked as he poured Bruce a big mug of coffee.

Bruce glared at him, knowing he was playing coy with him.

But he put his pride aside. “How is she doing?”

Alfred took pity on him. “She took some time off work. But seems to be handling it better than expected. Makes quite a bit of sense, doesn’t it? Her being psychiatrist and all.”

Bruce just nodded with a dazed look.

“You could always see for yourself…” Alfred added.

Bruce snapped out of his daze and looked up him questioningly.

“You could go see her,” Alfred confirmed.

“Alfred, don’t you start.”

“Start what, Master Wayne? Pushing you to form any sort of relationship?”

Bruce sighed and got up from the breakfast nook. He didn’t want to fight with him, so he’d made his exit before that happened.

“Batman has plenty of friends,” Alfred stopped him. “But what about Bruce Wayne, hmm? Who are his friends?”

“You saying we’re not friends, Alfred?”

“I’m all you’ve got, Master Wayne. And that’s my point.”

Before the discussion could go on any further, the doorbell rang.

The two men shared a look. 

No one stopped by the manor.

Alfred made his way over.

Bruce figured he’d wait where he was. But the front entrance was too far away from him to overhear any conversation.

A few minutes later, Alfred walked in with an unreadable expression.

“Dr. Y/L/N is here, Master Wayne. She is waiting for you in the drawing room.”

Bruce opened his mouth to tell him to make an excuse and get her to leave. But Alfred was already disappearing, making it clear that he would do no such thing for him.

When Bruce walked into the drawing room, he found Y/N’s back to him as she looked at the family heirlooms and trinkets that were displayed on the shelved.

She was dressed casually, which caught Bruce off guard since he’d only see her in formal wear and professional outfits since their reunion. Her hair was in a messy bun and she didn’t appear to be wearing much makeup, if any at all.

“Hi,” he greeted softly, making her quickly turn around.

“Hi,” she replied.

Bruce stepped further into the room. But neither of them moved to sit in any of the many seats that surrounded them.

“I heard what happened. How are you doing?” He asked.

She nodded and shrugged. “Alright.”

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Bruce admitted.

Y/N ignored his comment and her eyes went around the room. “I missed this place,” she thought aloud. Then her eyes fell back to his, softening. “I missed you.”

Bruce was taken aback from her confession. Seeing as the last time they were together, she was rather blunt about how disgusted and disappointed in him she was.

The energy between them felt so different than last time.

To his surprise, Y/N stepped toward him. And she didn’t stop until she was at a proximity that most would call rather intimate.

There was a voice in the back of Bruce’s mind, urging him to close the last bit of distance and place his lips on hers. But he managed to ignore it. That didn’t stop his heart from beating faster, though.

Y/N stared into his eyes for a few seconds, almost like she was searching for something.

“I have something that belongs to you…”

Bruce waited, not sure what she could possibly have to give him.

But then she pulled out one of his batarangs from her coat pocket, offering it to him.

She had found it embedded in the wall when she had gone back down to grab her personal belongings that night. 

Bruce kept his face composed. “I’m not sure I understand.” 

But he grabbed it from her anyways.

“He’s you,” she whispered. “Or I guess…you’re him.”

Bruce let out a breath, “Y/N…”

She took step away from him. “Don’t lie to me, Bruce.”

So he shut his mouth and said nothing instead.

“I’ve been doing some research. Things started lining up,” Y/N explained. “The first Batman sightings were right around when we stopped talking. The more Batman was in the press, the less Bruce Wayne was. And when he was, it was never positive – like it was meant to be a distraction.”

Her eyes went sad. “I never understood how the boy I used to love could grow into the man I’m so disappointed in. It never made sense.” She paused. “But when you wonder if the man himself is the mask, it all fits.”

“I’m sorry.” Bruce hung his head slightly. “I couldn’t tell anyone. Not even you.”

“I’d never share your secret.”

“I know,” he answered instantly.

Y/N couldn’t hold back her emotions any longer. Her eyes welled with tears. “Bruce…living like this has its consequences.”

Bruce said nothing.

She stepped forward and grabbed his hand. “You can’t change the world on your own. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Y/N wasn’t giving him advice. She was offering him something.  

Her trust.

Her secrecy.

Her love.

He shook his head, but gripped her hand tightly. “You would just end up in the shadows with me. And I…I can’t do that to you.”

“I’m stronger than you think,” Y/N defended.

“I’ve always known how strong you are, Y/N.” His jaw tightened at even the thought of being selfish. “You deserve more than what I can give. Gotham will always come first. That’s the sacrifice I made. That’s what is required. I can’t be what you need.”

Y/N studied his face, knowing that there would be no winning with him.

She nodded once, not even slightly hiding her heartbreak and disappointment.

Then she stepped closer and gave him a slow kiss on the cheek.

“It’s not a one time offer, Bruce.”

Bruce couldn’t move a muscle. He was rooted in place.

He heard Y/N have a short conversation with Alfred, then the door closed, and she was gone again.

———

Bruce Wayne was a fool.

Alfred could probably make a list, in seconds, with a hundred reasons why.

But, no, Bruce Wayne was a fool for believing Y/N would give up so easily.

Two weeks later, Y/N was at Wayne Manor again.

Bruce knew something was going on when Alfred didn’t seem surprised in the slightest.

In one of her arms was popcorn seeds, twizzlers, sour patch kids, and chocolate covered pretzels. In the other arm was a case of beer.

Y/N barely said hi to Bruce as Alfred helped her out of her coat and took the things out of her grasp so she was no longer struggling to hold it all.

“I’m here to use your theater,” she announced.

And with that, she walked right past Bruce like she owned the place.

Bruce looked at Alfred and silently asked, ‘What the hell is going on?’

“I believe you have a guest to entertain, Master Wayne.” Then he looked at the items in his hand. “And I believe I have some popcorn to make.”

Bruce still didn’t move.

“You successfully closed yet another case last night, it’s Friday night, and you have a beautiful woman who decided she wants to spend her time with you. Best you don’t keep her waiting, Master Wayne.”

Bruce narrowed his gaze as if telling Alfred they’d discuss this matter at another time.

“I presume you shouldn’t go empty handed,” Alfred added quickly and handed Bruce two beers from the case in his arms.

Bruce chuckled, but started walking away. “I’m surprised you even let this stuff in the house, Alfred.”

When Bruce reached the theater, Y/N had already started a movie.

He watched her a for a moment before she could realize he'd joined her. 

Y/N looked like she belonged there. Even after all this time apart, she just burrowed herself a cozy nook in Bruce’s life.

It was something she had been able to do even when they were kids. When Bruce had his mood swings or his depressive episodes, Y/N didn’t scare. She just found her way to stay at his side without upsetting him further.

Bruce grabbed the seat to the left of hers.

They weren’t really seats, more like small beds. A dozen were placed in the theater.

A couple could easily share one, but Bruce wasn’t planning on even approaching that fine line.

When Bruce sat down, he didn’t look at Y/N. But she gave a shy smile at his joining.

It was a long movie – almost a 3 hour run time.

And Y/N almost made it.

Without only 30 minutes left, Y/N had fallen asleep. Meaning Bruce’s attention was now taken from the movie.

He got up and grabbed one of the many blankets in the trunk hidden in the corner and placed it carefully over her, before silently leaving.

This was not a one time thing.

These type of visits continued.

Bruce knew Y/N and Alfred had to be in cahoots together. 

Y/N seemed to always come to the manor when Bruce needed her most. 

Alfred would force Bruce out of the cave and moments later, the doorbell would be ringing.

On the bad nights, she wouldn’t make him talk. She wouldn’t ask questions or try to make him magically feel better. Sometimes she would talk – mostly about mundane things. She’d tell Bruce about her day or how her neighbor always left baked goods at her door or about the new show she started watching. Sometimes she wouldn’t say anything at all, just sit there silently and make sure he wasn’t alone.

Sometimes she would bring coffee and pastries.

Sometimes Bruce would just walk into the library and find her reading.

Sometimes she would sit and chat with Alfred as if he was the reason she was visiting, and not Bruce.

Bruce couldn’t sleep one night. Nothing specific was causing his insomnia. Just the overall weight of being so many people.

It was 3AM when Y/N texted him to open the door for her because she didn’t want to wake Alfred.

When Bruce did so, Y/N was standing on the other door in sandals and a slightly transparent coverup that barely showed the outline of the bathing suit underneath.

He said nothing, but his face clearly showed that he wanted to know why the hell she was there in the middle of the night.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Y/N told him quietly. Then she shrugged a bit,“I decided I wanted to go for a swim."

Whether she was lying for his benefit, Bruce wasn’t sure. But he followed her to the indoor swimming pool like a sailor would follow a siren.

Without hesitation, Y/N kicked her sandals off and tossed her coverup on the nearest chair. And the next second, she was diving into the pool.

Bruce smirked at her nonchalance, but made sure to hide it when she breached the surface once again.

“Doesn’t your apartment building have its won pool?” He asked.

Y/N smiled and tilted her head back to get her hair wet again and out of her face. “They put too much chlorine in it.”

Bruce crossed his arms, “I see.”

“Coming in?” She asked teasingly.

He shook his head.

“At least keep me company,” she requested.

Bruce glared playfully at her, knowing the game she was playing.

But he finally sighed and nodded.

He was in cotton shorts and a t-shirt. But he decided to sit on the edge of the pool and dip his feet in.

He watched as she swam around, looking as natural in the water as a mermaid. She had always loved swimming as a kid and it appeared not much had changed.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He finally decided to break the silence.

Y/N swam to him and crossed her arms on the edge of the pool to rest and tilted her head to look at him.

She shrugged, “The usual: stress, nightmares, insomnia, too much caffeine.”

 Bruce’s concern spiked instantly. “Nightmares about what?”

She watched him for a moment, seeing how quickly her subtle comment triggered him.

“You’re not the only person who’s seen fucked up things, Bruce.”

An hour later, Y/N asked for a towel.

When she climbed out, she was taken aback by Bruce wrapping it around her shoulders and rubbing her down gently. It was innocent, but subtly intimate.

As their eyes locked for a prolonged time, and he seemed to realize what he’d done accidentally.

Y/N cleared her throat. “I should head home and let you try to get some sleep.”

“You could stay,” he offered. “I mean, we have plenty of bedrooms here,” he quickly added and saved himself a bit.

“Is that…what you want?” Y/N asked slowly.

Bruce knew what she was trying to ask. He didn’t trust himself to answer the way he should, so he didn’t answer.

“Let me drive you home,” he asked as they left the indoor pool and started toward the front entrance.

Y/N ignored the request until they were at the door. She turned to face him with a smug look, “I’m perfectly capable of driving myself. Thank you.”

She hesitated before kissing him on the cheek. “Get some sleep, Bruce.”

————

Months after Y/N’s visits started, Bruce was doing some research for a case on his tablet as he ate dinner.

“Margaret Caulfield’s engagement party is tonight,” Alfred broke the silence of the manor as he took Bruce’s finished plate.

Bruce looked confused on why he was supposed to care.

“Y/N will be there,” Alfred added.

But Bruce still didn’t understand what he was trying to say.

“Master Wayne, when you attend all those sufferable parties, what is the first question people ask you?”

Bruce thought for a moment. “When I plan on settling down, I guess.”

“Now imagine that, but magnified by about 100…and that is what Y/N’s experience is at those same parties. That young woman is one of the brightest people in Gotham and all those people care about is who will put a silly ring on her finger.”

Bruce leaned back in his chair, now understanding what Alfred was getting at. “I’m not her boyfriend, Alfred.”

“And you’ve made damn sure of that,” Alfred said a little too harshly.

Bruce watched him carefully.

“Y/N has fought off every one of your attempts to be a miserable recluse.”

Bruce opened his mouth.

“And don’t you dare try and tell me her efforts are wasted,” Alfred cut him off. “I’ve seen a change in you. And she has asked for absolutely nothing in return. She’d never ask you to pick her over Batman. Though she bloody well should!”

He wasn’t done.

“You’re not living, Master Wayne. And I won’t apologize for wanting more for you.”

Bruce just sat there and took it.

Alfred took in a breath, calming himself down. “There’s a suit waiting for you in your bedroom. I’ve decided I’m going for a evening walk.”

——————

Y/N didn’t know how many more champagnes she’d have to shrug to start feeling the buzz she so desperately needed.

Not even an hour of being at the party and she’s already been asked 15 times if she was seeing anyone. And when she answered no, half of those ended in them trying to set her up with someone.

As Y/N was trying to think of an excuse to escape, an old family friend approached her – a friend of her grandma’s unfortunately.

“Y/N, dear, let me see those hands!”

Y/N wanted to roll her eyes and snap, but she did as requested.

“No ring yet,” the woman teased, but she was also genuinely disappointed.

“That would be my fault, actually.” A voice said behind Y/N before she felt a hand on her lower back.

“Oh, Mr. Wayne, how nice of you to come!” The woman beamed. “Now, Y/N, why wouldn’t you tell anyone that you and Bruce are an item?”

“My fault again,” Bruce chuckled, “I’ve always enjoyed a good secret.”

Before she could ask more, Bruce smiled politely. “If you could excuse us for a moment.”

He steered Y/N to a private area of the party.

“What are you doing?” Y/N hissed at him. “The press are gonna have a field day. You and I will be every headline tomorrow.”

He smiled at her frantic concern.

“Why are you looking at me like that? I’m serious!”

Bruce captured her lips, silencing any further panic from her.

Y/N was completely caught off guard, but he wasn’t letting her go so easily. And soon, her hand went to the back of his head and she kissed him back. 

Damn all the people who were probably watching them.

When Bruce finally let her pull away, he smirked at her dazed look and cupped her cheek. 

She matched his smirk.

But then reality set in like a splash of cold water and she frowned.

“Am I – Is this your new cover?” She asked shakily, so scared that the answer was ‘yes.’

She could tolerate being Bruce’s friend for the rest of her life. But she wouldn’t survive being used in such a way. She couldn’t live in a fake relationship with a man she actually loved. She’d rather watch his sloppy persona with girls hanging off of him.

“No cover-up,” he muttered to her. “Just me and you – the real me.”

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

I worked so hard on this 😩  Please let me know your thoughts. 

[rayslittlekitten]

You Got This - Part 2

I recommend reading Part 1 first if you haven't.

Plot: After having a heart to heart, you and Jax re-live your youth.

Pairing: Jax Teller x F! Reader

Contains: a lot of fluff and fluffy sex, also a shit ton of Jax smoking porn, and you see his butt 🙃

A/N:  Thank you Anon for this request.  I hope you and the other readers enjoy this (if not more) than the first part. This took me longer than I expected to write this, but it's finally done.  I kept going back and forth on trying to decide what to include and what not to.  Also, had I known I was going to be writing a part two for this, the beginning of this would have been at the end of part one, but hindsight is 20/20. I actually did already write out most of the beginning but decided to leave it out of part one because I thought where I left it was a good place to end it. I also thought about eliminating it completely but I really like the interaction that happens with Gemma.  To me it's like a beauty shot. Is it necessary and does it move the story along at all? Not quite, but it looks good so let's just leave it in there anyways. Also to squeeze a little bit more angst out of Jax.

Also, I had a bit of trouble writing this as well because as strange as this sounds, I couldn't find the perfect song to pair with this.  Sometimes I need music to help me get into the mindset and mood.  I was going for like a nostalgic summer love kinda thing. I had actually thought to use a song form the mid-90s because to really make it feel nostalgic and Shanice's "Saving Forever For You" was the winner for that but I decided it was not right for this. Maybe their actual first time, yes.  Then it was a toss up between "Honey Whiskey" by Satica and "Take Me Away" by Sinead Harnett/EARTHGANG and the latter won given the situation. I'd recommend giving it a listen below (or any of the songs listed) to get the mood I was going for while writing the sex scene. I really thank you for reading my ramblings if you've gotten this far. I just want to give the readers the best experience to my stories and how it was intended when I wrote it.

A loud commotion outside interrupts the moment and you both realize you need to get dressed before someone finds the both of you.  He pulls out of you and you both quickly get yourselves together. You hop into the bathroom inside the bedroom to clean yourself up. When you walk out, you see Jax sitting on the bed smoking a cigarette with all his clothes and hair in place, like he had been sitting there this whole time and didn't move from his spot when you first walked in.  He glances over to you and you're reminded of how his handsome charming face is something you miss so much.

"I should probably go before someone starts looking for either of us." You walk out of the bathroom and towards the front door.  Jax grabs your hand and pulls you back to him.

"Hey." He stands up, cups your face and looks at you. "It's really good to see you again."

Suddenly you both hear the door knob rattling and then a knock following it.

"Jax, are you in there, honey?" You both hear Gemma on the other side of the door. 

You both separate and smooth yourselves out and Jax walks over to open the door. 

"Honey, what are you doing in here? Tara--" Gemma's facial expression shifts when she spots you. She looks at the both of you suspiciously. You both thought you were so slick when you were younger but if there was anyone who knew what you both were up to, it would be Gemma. Nothing slips past her. In fact, she’s always secretly hoped you two would get together. You were born into SAMCRO, making you MC royalty. The Princess of Charming.

"Oh, I didn't know you were in here too. I'm very sorry about Opie, sweetheart." 

"Thank you, Gemma." You walk closer to the door and Gemma pulls you in for a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Where's your fiancé?" Gemma asks curiously.

"Fiancé?" Jax glances over at you.

"I came by myself this time," you answer. "We're kind of on a break." You wrinkle your nose.

"I'm sorry to hear that too. Must be one hell of a break." Gemma's knowing eyes are boring a hole into you. "Lyla tells me you're staying a while?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna help her out with the kids for a week or so until she can figure it out.  I know you and the club will be a big help, but with everything going on, I think her and the kids can use another familiar face."

"Family is important and I'm very happy to see you here." Gemma's eyes shift to Jax with the same knowing look she gave you. "Well, whenever you're ready, Tara's looking for you."

"Thanks, mom." Jax runs his hand over the top of his hair. Gemma glances at you both again once more before she walks away.

You start making your way out the door when Jax pulls you back in.

"You're engaged?" Jax asks with wide eyes.

"Was," you reply. 

"Was it to that pretentious English prick you brought back with you last time?" Jax snarls.

"Ray is a good guy and he treats me really well. We're just going through a bit of a rough patch right now," you tell him. "Also, the last I heard, you're married with two children, Teller."

Jax just looks at you, knowing he has no right to be upset about you being with another man.

"And I believe your wife is looking for you," you say before walking away from him as you see your nephews and niece running up to you. "Hey guys!"

Jax takes a drag of his cigarette while he continues watching you as you kneel down to greet the kids.

A few days later...

The sun is beginning to set and Jax is at the clubhouse. Most of the people have already left. He needs some quiet and alone time after spending a few days earlier in the week not just watching his best friend get killed, but also saying goodbye and laying him to rest. He climbs up the ladder onto the roof of the clubhouse, one of his favorite places to think and reflect quietly while smoking.  What he didn't expect to find is someone else had beat him to the spot.

"I didn't know you were here," Jax says as he walks over and sits next to them. "You've been avoiding me like the plague all week."

"I miss watching the sunset," you reply without looking at him.

"The sun doesn't set where you are?" Jax asks as he lights up a joint.

"It's not the same."

Jax takes a long drag and then offers it to you. 

You look at it for a moment and form a small smile before taking it from him.  The roof was also a place you both frequented in your youth to smoke pot, away from your parents and the adults. Eventually they figured out your secret spot, but it didn't stop you guys from coming back. You take a pull and hand it back to him.

"I also miss this.  There is nothing like California-grown weed."

Jax takes a hit and blows out the smoke from the corner of his mouth.

"Do you ever miss me?" Jax looks over at you and passes the joint back to you.

You look over to him and squint an eye to prevent the sun from blinding you.

"Yeah, sometimes I do."

"Does your English weed taste like fucking tea and crumpets?" Jax jokes.

"Oh, I get the best shit there is over there. Trust me." You chuckle. "But... it's not home."

"So why don't you come home?" Jax looks back at you with the same squinty face.

You look at him for a moment deciding what you want to say. "You know, that's the reason why Ray and I put the engagement on hold. With everything happening here, I wanted to be closer to family. Figure my shit out." You take another drag and return the joint back to him.

"There's more than family that would love to see you back home too." Jax reaches for your hand and squeezes it.

"Jackson, what happened the other day, we both acted out of impulse. We were both just... vulnerable.  I'm sorry if it gave the wrong impression."

Jax shakes his head, then takes another long pull of the joint. “Ope was like my moral compass, kept me grounded and always pointed me in the right direction, and now he's gone, because of me."

"Jackson, you can't--" You start shaking your head.

"You’re the closest thing I have left of Ope. I need you." Jax holds your hand.

"Jackson, in your heart, you always knew what was best. You don't need me." You push a loose chunk of his blonde hair away from his face and tuck it behind his ear.  "I know you're hurting, but I can't fill the void that Opie left. Nothing ever will. Just focus on what's important to you and you'll figure it out.  You always did." You smile at him while caressing his cheek with your thumb. "You got this." He closes his eyes and leans in to your hand, soaking in your touch.

"You still have too much faith me." He turns his head slightly to kiss the palm of your hand.

"Yeah, maybe. Besides, our boat sailed a long time ago," you add, pulling your hands away from him and looking away. Jax takes the last drag of the joint and tosses it off the roof.

"Maybe that boat can make one last stop before sailing away for good?" Jax gently grabs your chin and turns your head to him to look into his slightly droopy eyes.

Even all this time, it's still hard to not get lost in his baby blues. It's even harder with the perfect setting: the firey orange sky, the slight California breeze, the clubhouse rooftop. Maybe it's the weed, but it feels perfect in the moment. It's all taking you back to the summer when you were 14, when the only care in your worlds were right in front of each other. It's also the perfect setting for cruising around. Jax use to "borrow" one of the bikes from the clubhouse and take you on joyrides, basking in the sun while the wind hits your faces.

He slowly leans into you, and you close the distance, pressing your lips against his. Jax immediately responds and kisses back, his tongue slipping between your teeth. You can taste whiskey mixed with a faint linger of cigarettes and marijuana. Jax cradles your neck and pulls you in closer to him.

The loud roar of a motorcycle driving by and backfiring breaks you up.  You both are brought back to reality that you are both still on a rooftop and a bit baked.

"Come on, let's get inside." Jax jerks his head towards the latch.  Jax helps you down the ladder first and he follows behind.  He quickly makes a sweep and doesn't see anyone except for a few guys at the bar with their back turned towards the both of you.  Jax grabs your hand and leads you back into the spare bedroom you both were in earlier in the week. This definitely feels like you both are hormone-driven teenagers again, sneaking around the clubhouse. 

Once Jax closes and locks the door, he turns his attention back to you but he stops in his tracks to really look at you. All of you. He never thought he'd ever be with you or see you like this again.  What happened the other day was different.  Like you said, it was a moment of weakness, an impulsive move on both of you because of shared pain.

This time, there is no urgency, there is no hurt, just the two of you re-living a moment the two of you wish you had the opportunity to experience over and over again. This time it's intentionally and purely for the most selfish reasons. He walks over to you and presses his lips onto yours, taking his time to actually taste and feel your soft lips on his.  He pulls you in close to his body as his hands explore yours.

As the both of you continue to deliberately and slowly make out, Jax grabs your ass and presses himself against you, feeling his erection through your clothes. Jax pushes you backward towards the bed and you fall back when you feel the edge hit the back of your knees. He falls on top of you and expertly starts disrobing you while making out with you.  In one quick swift, Jax pulls your shirt over your head, leaving you in a satin black bra.  He takes his time with you, starting with his lips on your neck, licking and kissing it, even nibbling at it.  He's always wanted to leave a hickey on you, letting all the guys know you're taken. He then makes his way down to your collar bone, the top of your chest and then pulls down your bra on one side to reveal a nipple.  He puts his mouth over it and swirls his tongue around it.  Jax looks up to see your reaction and find you looking back biting your lower lip. He smirks and pulls down the other side of your bra and gives that nipple the same attention, making you arch against his mouth. 

"Oh, Jackson," you moan.

He lets out a low growl.

"As much as I want to hear all the sexy noises coming out of your mouth while I'm pleasuring you, you gotta keep it quiet, darlin'." He kisses you while he unhooks your bra and tosses it aside. He then unbuttons your pants and backs himself off the bed. He slowly slides your pants and thong off your hips and down your legs. He licks his lips, excited to unwrap you like his present. You watch him as he lowers himself to his knees and kneels at your feet to help you with your boots and removes the rest of the clothes off your body.  Suddenly feeling a bit exposed and shy like it's your first time with Jax, you keep your legs together. Jax places his hands on each of your knees and coaxes them open. He looks at his gift and licks his lips.

He dives in between your legs while looking up at you. His soft lips and warm wet tongue are licking and sucking you on all the right places and his beard tickling your inner thighs.  That's new to you.  He barely had peach fuzz in his teens. You feel him slip a finger inside you as his lips are pulling at your clit.  Your breathing is getting shorter and more shallow.  Jax inserts another long finger in you and finds your g-spot, rubbing circles on it.

"Jax, I..." Feeling your orgasm building, you are rendered speechless. Jax continues sucking and stroking you until you come undone into his mouth and on his fingers. He watches you squirm and thrash as you scream quietly in ecstasy. He doesn't stop until you are sensitive to his touch and you push him away.  He wipes his beard and smiles at you, proud of his accomplishment. Jax surely still knows his way around your body.

You glance up to him as he gets to his feet.  You watch him strip his clothes off, first the kutte, then his shirt pulled over his head.  He kicks off his sneakers as he takes his time unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans.  You're glad he's taking his time though because it allows you to soak up and remember every second you have with this gorgeous man in front of you.  He finally pulls his jeans and boxers down.  Besides from the other day, the last time you and him were this intimate, the both of you were shorter, slimmer and clearly less experienced.  Now you’re both grown, gained curves and muscles and are far more seasoned in the bedroom.  He's also certainly grown in other places as well.

"Back up," Jax nods his head as he climbs onto the bed and  hovers above you.  You scoot back so your whole body is on the bed.  Jax lays on top of you and smashes his lips against yours again, cradling your neck and grinding against you.  You can feel the head of cock teasing your opening.

"Maybe we should use a condom this time," you tell him in between kisses.

"I'm not gonna lie.  You did feel amazing without one the other day," Jax admits.

You and Jax had always been careful and taking the right steps when you were younger, using condoms at all times so that time was the first time you both had sex without one. Thankfully you are on birth control and both are STD-free, but you know you shouldn't take any chances.  

You give him a knowing look.

"Anything for you, darlin'." Jax gives you a kiss on the cheek before getting up to put on a condom.  He climbs back on top of you and looks at you as he caresses your face, still not believing that you're beneath him.

You gently grab his face with both hands and kiss him deeply. You then feel him slip inside you. All of him.  You moan into his mouth and move with him, both of your hips slowly thrusting in unison. Jax grabs your hands and brings them above your head. He intertwines his fingers with yours and thrusts deeper into you.  He watches you while you relish in the moment, as he pulls these lost emotions from you with each deliberate push.  You wrap your legs around his waist and it encourages him to pick up the pace.  You try to do the same and meet his rhythm.

Jax releases your hands and reaches for your legs behind him and brings them in front of him to rest on his shoulders, deepening his access to you.  His hand reaches up to cradle your neck as he pounds into you. You then feel his thumb slide over the front of your throat.  You start to feel his fingers tighten slightly around your neck. This is also new for you and Jax, but you're loving it.  You can feel yourself getting closer to achieving another orgasm.

"Jackson..." you pant.

"Come for me, darlin'.  I know you're there," Jax grunts.

You close your eyes and feel bliss as you let yourself go, letting your body take over you.  After your orgasm subsides, you open your eyes and find Jax is no longer making love to you, but just smiling at you while still inside you. Now it's time for you to show him a few tricks you've learned.

"Get on your back," you tell him.

Without any protest from Jax, you both switch positions.  Jax lies on his back with this hands behind his head, waiting for you to take the wheel.  You straddle him and take your time sinking yourself onto him.  You feel a lot more confident about being on top than you did when you were younger.  You were shy and inexperienced.  Now? You're going to ride him like the sexiest Harley you've ever had the privilege of sitting on. You slowly start riding him, rocking back and forth, grinding on him and teasing him. You enjoy the feeling of him filling you up to the hilt as you push down on him.

Jax looks up at you, watching you take charge and own his dick.  He definitely notices you're a lot more comfortable in this position than he remembers.  He reaches up and runs his hands over your breasts, massaging them and caressing your nipples as you enjoy the ride. He's certainly enjoying the view.

"You are still as fucking beautiful as the day I fell in love with you," Jax says, mesmerized by the image in front of him.

You smile and then lean back, placing your hands behind you on his thighs. Jax looks at you curiously. You roll your hips and start sliding up and down on him, giving him a clear view.  He looks down and watches himself disappear in and out of you.

Jax groans and runs the palms of his hands over your thighs and settles on your hips.  One of his hands then slides over between your legs and he starts rubbing circles on your clit with this thumb. You moan and gasp. You then lean forward, placing your hands on the pillow of each side of his head and lean down closer to him.  You start bouncing your ass up and down as you look down on him, your hair forming a curtain around your faces.  Jax grabs your ass and starts thrusting up to meet your movement. The only sounds echoing in the room are your pants and your bodies slapping against each other.  Jax speeds up and watches your face as it distorts.  He knows you've got another one inside you and you're very close.

"Come on, darlin'. Let it go." Jax coos.

You let out a loud moan as your legs shake and feel like a firecracker exploded inside of you.  Jax clamps a hand over your mouth as he continues to drill inside.

"There you go, Y/N." Jax smiles watching you fall apart on top of him.  He then swiftly flips you onto your back and roughly drives into you a few more times until he finally gets his own release.

As he slows down, you both look at each other, savoring the moment and then kiss softly.

Suddenly the door knob starts to rattle and the person on the other side is banging on the door.

"Yo, hurry it up! I gotta take a shit!" an unrecognizable voice shouts.

"Hey asshole, the bathroom is further down!" You both hear Chibs shouting. You place your hands over your mouth as you start to laugh.

"Shh!" Jax puts a finger over his pursed lips as he tries to suppress his own laughter.

SMASH CUT TO BLACK

A/N: I never put notes at the end but I figured I'd let you enjoy the fic first before mentioning I currently don't have plans to expand this story. I might in the future, but not in the near future.  I originally intended the first part to be short and be a one off, but I just kept writing and writing and there were so many places and opportunities to keep expanding. Same for part two.  There were so many directions I could have gone. I had a bit of struggle with this for some reason. It's not quite exactly how I pictured it ending but it works for what it is.

If you haven’t read it yet, I wrote two short scenes titled “Carry Me Home” and “Joyride” which are like flashbacks in this universe.

[attention-bajoranworkers]

Just this once (and then once again) Part 6/?

@deepspacedukat deserves the world for putting up with my bullshit. Ilysm ❤️

Warnings: smut. ❗18+ ONLY. Minors DNI❗

You watched the station as the USS Archer approached it to dock and a mix of excitement and anxiety washed over you. You finished your coffee as the ship docked before heading to your temporary quarters to get your stuff. You thanked the Captain before disembarking and to your surprise, Commander Sisko was waiting for you at the airlock.

“Commander.” You say with a smile.

“At ease, ensign.” He says, mirroring your smile. “Welcome to Deep Space Nine.” He adds before gesturing for you to walk with him. “We have assigned you quarters, and I’ll be more than happy to give you a tour of the station when you’ve settled.” He explains.

“It won’t be necessary.” You wanted to tell him. “That’ll be wonderful.” You say instead.

The Promenade was bustling with people as you crossed it and you realized that you remembered the station to be warmer than it currently was. Benjamin led you to the habitat ring and to your quarters before saying his goodbyes and allowing you to settle in.

You dropped your bags as the door closed behind you, heading for the replicator to get some tea before approaching one of the viewports. You let out a chuckle. It seemed that destiny had a sense of humor after all.

-

Your first couple of weeks passed by quickly, getting to know everyone and getting into the rhythm of your new job. Quark was surprised, to say the least, when he saw you again, but happy nonetheless.

“So, is our dear Commander aware of your past visits to Ter- Deep Space Nine?” He asks, pouring you a drink.

“No, and I think it’ll be best if it stays that way.” You say and he chuckles. “Quaark.” You say, your tone threatening.

“My lips are sealed.” He says.

“They better be.” You warn before taking your drink and going back to your table.

You made quick friends with Dax and she practically dragged you around to meet everyone. For some reason Major Kira always seemed to be tense, and it had you on edge the first few days, but then you realized that was just her way and that she was quite nice. You had heard about Odo, of fucking course you had, but luckily enough he didn’t seem to know about you or any of your past visits to the station.

“Hey.” You say walking out of the turbolift and into ops, shooting Julian a questioning look when you saw he was there too. “House call?” You ask him before approaching Dax. “Hey, so, report’s done, I only have to hand it in to Benjamin.” You explain as she takes the PADD you’re holding to check out the aforementioned report.

“Great.” She says with a smile, handing you back the PADD.

“What’s with the long faces?” You ask her, noticing the Major’s tense shoulders and furrowed brows as she focused on whatever was on the screen she was looking at.

“Benjamin’s got a visitor. He might even be happy if you interrupted his meeting.” She says with a chuckle as you look towards Benjamin’s office.

“I’m off duty tomorrow, but you can send me any data you need analyzed anyway.” You say and she nods. “Alright, time to save Ben, I guess.” You add making her chuckle again.

You chime the door and try to get a peek, but can’t see who Benjamin is talking to while waiting for him to either let you in or have you come back later.

“Commander.” You say, entering the office as the door finally opens. “Just wanted to hand in this report before turning in for the evening.” You explain placing the PADD on his desk.

“Thank you, ensign.” He says taking it and giving it a quick once over.

“Where are your manners, Benjamin?” A voice says and you almost got whiplash from how fast you turned to see who had just spoken.

“Right.” Benjamin says placing the PADD back on his desk. “Ensign Holden, I don’t think you’ve had the…pleasure of meeting Gul Dukat.” He adds.

A smile played on his lips as he observed you, frozen in place and at a loss of words, trying to process it was Dukat who was standing before you.

“I don’t think either of us has had the pleasure, no.” He finally says when you don’t say anything, approaching and taking your hand before bringing it up to his lips to kiss it.

“That’s enough, Dukat.” Benjamin tells him, sounding rather bored as you turn to look at him, finally able to speak.

“I- I should probably go now.” You say. “Yeah.” You tell yourself as you turn to leave, feeling Dukat’s eyes on you until the office’s door closes behind you as you stand in front of Benjamin’s office.

You left ops without muttering a single word, earning a few confused looks as you passed Dax and Julian.

You patted your hair dry and put on your fluffy bathrobe before leaving the bathroom and heading for the living room to replicate yourself some dinner.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You exclaim when you see the man standing in your living room by the viewport.

“Who?” He asks, turning to look at you.

“Dukat?” You ask, half exasperated, half in disbelief.

“Is that how you greet an old friend?” He asks, approaching you.

“How’d you even get in?” You ask, still trying to process what was happening. “Duh, of course he’d know how to get in. He used to be the station’s C.O. after all.” You think as he stops before you, studying your features.

“It’s good to see you too.” He says as you pull the robe tighter around yourself, making him chuckle softly when he notices the action.

It’s not like he didn’t already know what was underneath it.

“I- A little warning would’ve been nice.” You finally say, meeting his eyes.

“Should I have let you know in Benjamin’s office?” He asks as you walk past him and go sit on the sofa. “Or maybe at Quark’s while you were having lunch with dear Julian?” He adds, following you and sitting beside you.

“Okay, okay, I get it.” You say, signaling him to stop. “Kanar?” You ask and he gives you a surprised look. “Quark’s welcome present.” You explain sitting up and disappearing into your bedroom only to return moments later with a bottle of Kanar.

You pour two glasses and sigh after your first sip. You hadn’t had the chance to drink it since the last time you had seen Dukat.

You both sit in silence and you feel yourself eventually start blushing under his gaze.

“What?” You ask before sipping your drink.

“You haven’t changed a bit.” He says placing his glass on the coffee table and standing before reaching his hand out for you to take.

You do without giving it much thought and he pulls you up from the sofa. You don’t have the chance to think before he’s claiming your lips, hands pulling your hips toward him. Your arms wrap around his neck, glass of kanar in hand as you kiss him back, free hand tangling in his hair as he deepens the kiss, his tongue fighting yours for dominance and you can taste the kanar on him.

You eventually pull apart due to the lack of air, your chest rising and falling furiously as you try to catch your breath and he continues peppering your jaw and neck with kisses before taking the empty glass from your hand and placing it on the coffee table.

“Wow… okay.” You breathe out as he looks down at you. “That’s not how I expected my evening to go.” You add, a smug smile pulling at his lips before he kisses you again, hands traveling down to your thighs and picking you up, making you wrap your legs around him as he carries you toward the bedroom.

He leaves you sitting on the edge of the bed before stepping back to take his chest piece off as you watch him. He pulls you up to your feet again, undoing the knot of your robe before pushing it off your shoulders and making it pool around your feet. He traces your sides with the tips of his fingers before leaning in, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Lay on the bed.” He says, his voice low and making a shiver run down your spine.

You do as he says, his hungry eyes taking you in as you hold yourself up on your elbows, meeting his gaze. He takes off his boots before crawling in bed over you, his lips claiming yours for a brief moment before he starts to kiss down your neck and over your chest before continuing his journey downwards. He kisses your thigh, holding your gaze before running two fingers through your folds, making you throw your head back, eyes closing as you let yourself fall back on the bed.

“I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already dripping.” He says, kissing your hip, fingers toying at your entrance and making you moan softly.

He smiles against your skin at your reaction before finally running his tongue through your folds and making you swear. His hands hold your hips down as he starts eating you out, the sounds you’re letting out only encouraging him further.

“Oh fuck.” You let out when he focuses on your clit, your hips bucking up against the hands holding them down as you hold onto the sheets for dear life.

You feel yourself clench around nothing as he drives you nearer to the edge with every passing moment and turns you into a whimpering, moaning mess as he works his tongue on you.

“Oh God, Dukat!” You call out before he finally makes you come, your thighs closing around his head, legs shaking and toes curling as he keeps going until you’ve ridden the waves of your orgasm.

He stops when your fingers run through his hair, prompting him to move back up to you.

“Good girl.” He praises before leaning in to kiss you, making you moan as you taste yourself on him.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.” You manage to say when he pulls apart, making him chuckle.

As he gets off the bed to get undressed, you crawl to the edge of the bed, undoing his trousers as he pulls his shirt over his head.

“I want to ride you.” You say against his skin while peppering his naked chest with kisses, your hands traveling up to his neck ridges as you move to kiss along his jaw.

He lays beside you on the bed, allowing you to straddle him, his hands falling to your hips as he holds your gaze while you take him in your hand and guide him to your entrance, the sound he lets out encouraging your further as you run the head of his cock through your folds before finally sinking down on him. You both moan at the sensation, his fingers digging into your flesh as he stretches you so good, making you clench involuntarily around him.

It had been too long and he felt like coming home.

You support yourself on his chest as you start riding him, feeling every inch of him in every move and letting your head fall back as your back arches, getting lost in him, not a single thing in the world mattering in the moment. His hands guide your hips as you settle on slow calculated moves instead of frantic fucking, wanting to make him feel as good as you did, his grunts and moans driving you on.

He eventually turns the both of you over, leaving him on top and in control as he somehow manages to thrust even deeper into you, making your eyes roll as you wrap your legs around his hips. You look up at him as his fingers wrap around your neck and his free hand starts drawing lazy circles on your clit as he fucks you into the matress, pushing you closer to your second orgasm by the second. When he makes you come, he silences you with a kiss as he fucks you through your orgasm, your legs quaking around him and your nails dragging down his back as he stills too, spilling into you, the warm feeling of him filling you up making you moan as he moans and grunts against your neck.

He allows himself to lay on top of you and you welcome the weight, your hand moving to run your fingers through his hair as you both pant trying to catch your breath.

“That’s definitely not how I expected my evening to go.” You chuckle as he kisses the column of your throat before pushing himself up and pulling out of you, making you wince at the loss of him. He sits back, looking at you as you feel his cum drip out of you, a hint of pride on his face as he sees you like this.

After a few moments he leaves to go get a washcloth from your bathroom, cleaning you up before getting back in bed with you, pulling the sheets over the both of you before pulling you to lay on top of him.

You were spent and tired and the warmth of his body against yours lulled you to sleep, and you didn’t even try to fight it.

When you wake up, you reach your arm out only to find an empty spot beside you.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid, Cassie.” You mutter to yourself, sighing and rubbing a hand over your face.

[ejzah]

Suggestion from @mashmaiden: Maybe one of the guys asking Deeks if he's doing okay after everything that's happening?

A/N: Somehow this suggestion is six or so months old. I think this was in reference to Sam or Callen checking in with Deeks. Enjoy the angst!

***

Crumbling

Deeks finished wiping down the bar, not that it really needed it since the last time he cleaned everything. It gave him something to do though.

In the last two weeks, business had completely tanked. Not only had he sent The Squid and Dagger staff home multiple days, but now he was actually closing early to save on electricity.

He braced his hands against the bar top, letting his head hang between his shoulders. The front door opened and without looking up, he called out.

“Sorry, we’re closed.”

“Your sign says you’re open,” Callen answered and he hastily straightened.

“Oh hey, Callen. Yeah, I must have forgotten to switch it off.” He walked over to do just that, then grabbed the bucket of water and soap he’d left on a table. “Can I get you a beer?”

“Sure, as long as it’s not anything we made,” he answered, taking a seat. Deeks smirked automatically, not having the energy to really fake it. He grabbed a beer he knew Callen preferred and slid it his way.

While Deeks continued cleaning, Callen drank in silence for a few minutes. It wasn’t unusual for him to drop by, though it was less common now he was back with Anna.

“So, how’s it going?” Deeks snorted at the question, pursing his lips.

“On a scale of 1-10, let’s go with about negative 20.”

“That good, huh?” Callen commented.

“Sorry, you didn’t come to hear me whine. What do you need?”

“Actually, I did come to see you.”

“About what?” Deeks asked, shoulders tensing as he braced himself for whatever bad news Callen brought with him.

“Well, Sam and I were talking about you-”

“Always good to hear my coworkers-sorry, former coworkers-are talking about you. Brings out the warm fuzzies.”

“And, we’re worried,” he finished, seeming unbothered by Deeks’ interruption.

“You guys don’t do worried. You do pensive. Maybe angsty. Definitely brooding. But not worried,” Deeks said, summoning up as much sarcasm as he could under the circumstances.

“Deeks, I’m not talking to you as a team leader right now. I honestly want to know how you’re doing. You’ve been through a lot recently.”

Sighing Deeks, pressed his palms against his eye sockets, balancing his elbows on the bar.

“Honestly? I’m not doing that great,” he said, swallowing heavily. “God. It just seems like the hole I’m in is getting deeper every day.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Callen asked, sounding unsurprised by his confession.

“Unless you have several thousand dollars or can convince one of two law enforcement agencies that they really need me, probably not.”

“Deeks, we’ll get you back on the team,” Callen assured him and Deeks chuckled, biting down on his bottom lip to keep back what he really wanted to say. “In the mean time, we’re all here for you.”

“Yeah, that explains why you basically threatened to have me removed from OPS a few weeks ago,” Deeks retorted before he could help himself. The moment still stung, another reminder that he was slowly losing everything.

Callen had the good grace to shift uncomfortably and grimaced.

“Sorry about that. We probably could have handled the situation better, but you have to know that we all want you back. Whatever LAPD and NCIS say, Nell is still trying to get you reinstated. And if necessary, every single member of our team will speak on your behalf.”

“Thanks.” Deeks swallowed harshly again, glancing away. Callen didn’t need to see how close he was to having a minor break down. Fiddling with the lid from his beer, Callen scanned the bar once before turning back to face Deeks.

“Does Kensi know how bad things are?” he asked.

“Yeah, I mean, she knows it’s not good. But she’s also certain that we can still manage to buy a house and have a kid.” He spread his hands helplessly. “I can’t destroy her hope by bringing up all my issues again. Besides, I don’t know that she wants to hear it.”

“I’m sure she does,” Callen said, looking more concerned than when he walked in. “And the longer you don’t talk about this, the worse it’s gonna get.”

“I know,” Deeks sighed. “It’s just hard to admit you’re failing at everything.”

“You’re not failing at anything, Deeks. You’re a good cop, not a bad businessman/lawyer, a pretty awesome husband from what I hear, and if NCIS is smart, you’ll be a great agent.”

Deeks didn’t know what to say to that, so he stayed silent as Callen checked his watch.

“Hey, I need to meet, Anna, but you know you can call us about anything, ok?”

“Sure.” Deeks gave him the ghost of a smile. As Callen walked out, he sighed deeply. He knew Callen had meant well, but he didn’t think all the pep talks in the world would keep his life from caving in.

[refinedbuffoonery]

Looking Through A Window (5)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Admittedly, this is kind of a filler/transition chapter, but I have big plans for this story, and I’m really excited for y’all to read what happens next. Expect an update every weekend this month! 

*****

The nightmare sinks its claws deeper as Mac tries to dislodge it. He knows it’s a dream, and Mac tosses and turns as he grapples for control of his mind. 

The images in his mind persist. He's back in the Sandbox, but this time Bozer is with him, and Bozer's dying from a bullet wound before Mac can carry him to safety. Mac's had the dream a million times, and it always ends the same way. 

I know you won’t let me die, Bozer says. But seconds later, his eyes turn glassy when his soul leaves his body. 

Mac’s throat closes, cutting off his oxygen supply, and for a moment he thinks he’s going to follow Bozer into the afterlife. 

It’s just a dream. He’s just lucid enough to remind himself of that. Wake up, Mac commands his body. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. 

The nightmare won’t let him. 

Suddenly a different set of claws grip Mac’s shoulders, and the voice ordering him to wake up isn’t his own. He tries to jerk away, but the claws dig in. 

Not claws, Mac realizes. Hands. Slender ones, with long fingers. Nails biting into his skin through his worn t-shirt. 

He knows those hands. 

“Wake up,” Riley hisses, and it’s enough to finally yank Mac from his dream. Mac’s eyes snap open, automatically scanning his surroundings. The bedroom is pitch black, but Mac can just make out Riley kneeling above him, her tired face twisted in concern. Her hands are on Mac’s shoulders, but not pinning him to the bed like he first thought. Her touch is light, and her thumbs make gentle sweeps across his collarbones. Mac’s own hands find Riley’s forearms, but he doesn’t push her away, nor does she lay back down. “You okay?” she asks. 

Mac tries to play it off. “Yeah, bad dream. That’s all.” It’s a bit of an exaggeration, considering that he’s drenched in sweat and the final and most disturbing seconds of the dream are lingering longer than the rest. He knows it’s not real, but Mac can’t quite shake the sick feeling. 

Riley exhales, and Mac finds himself mirroring her breathing automatically. Sliding a hand down to her wrist, he presses two fingers into her skin, feeling the steady thrum of her pulse. It’s faster than he expects. 

Almost as if in explanation, Riley says, “You scared the shit out of the dog, not to mention me.” 

Mac winces, feeling guilty. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Slowly, Riley releases him and lays back down, leaving plenty of space between them. Mac misses her touch the instant she lets go. “Want to talk about it?” 

That throat-closing feeling returns as Mac contemplates what to tell her. Part of him wants to share, but a bigger part hesitates when the explanation dies on his tongue. “Not really,” he finally says. 

“Okay.” Riley says, pausing. “You’re wide awake right now, aren’t you?” 

This, at least, he can admit easily. “Yep.” 

There’s another long pause, filled only with the soft sound of their exhales. Just when he’s about to tell Riley to stop worrying about him and go back to sleep, she says, “Come here.” 

Mac stills. That weird tension still lingers between him and Riley, causing awkward silences and stilted conversations. So this…this is unexpected. 

He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. But, her voice is soft and reassuring, and who is he to turn down a free opportunity to cuddle with the woman he loves? Even if it might be a mistake. 

As soon as Mac scoots across the bed, Riley pulls him into her side, guiding his head to rest on her non-injured shoulder. Riley’s side of the bed isn’t nearly as warm as his, but her body is soft and Mac likes how they fit together. Mac can’t help but sigh in contentment as Riley lightly scratches his scalp, and he lets an arm settle over her waist. They’ve fallen asleep together plenty of times over the years, but she’s never held him. Not like this. His heart pounds at the intimacy of it all. 

But as Mac slowly starts to relax, the pulse in his ear doesn’t slow like it should. Because it’s not his heartbeat he’s hearing. 

It’s hers.

Does that mean…?

“So,” Riley says, breaking the silence. “It’s later.” 

The realization feels like a slap to the face. That’s why her heart is beating so fast. Not because of their close proximity, but because it’s later and there’s still that unresolved thing hanging between them. Mac’s fleeting hope that Riley’s racing pulse meant something else is nothing more than a fantasy in his head. 

Swallowing his disappointment, Mac starts, “Riley, I really am sorry—” She cuts him off. 

“Stop. You don’t need to apologize again. I forgave you the first time.” Her fingers sweep behind his ear, making him shiver slightly. “It’s my turn.” Riley takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry for not listening to you. Like, really listening. Your concerns are legit, and I shouldn’t have brushed them aside and followed Matty blindly.” 

Oh. 

“I hate this situation just as much as you do, and I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise.” Her voice catches slightly. “Also, I lied to you this morning, in the car. I knew I needed to apologize. I just didn’t know how to say it yet.” 

Pointedly ignoring the intimacy of the gesture, Mac brushes his thumb over her ribs in a way he hopes is reassuring. “It’s okay.” 

Riley tenses beneath him, and Mac freezes instantly. “It’s not, but thanks for saying that anyway,” she murmurs, relaxing again. Her fingers resume their path through his hair, catching on the occasional tangle. 

Mac doesn’t know how to reassure her that it really is okay. So instead he confesses, “Sometimes I hate this job.” 

She’s quiet for a few long seconds before responding. “Me too.” 

It’s weird voicing it aloud. They’re all painfully aware of the downsides to the job, but rarely does anyone directly mention it. Maybe Riley is on a similar page as him after all. 

Mac questions, “Are we doing the right thing? Playing along and letting innocent people get hurt just so we can take down the whole organization at once?” He needs to know her answer…needs confirmation that this whole op isn’t just one massive wrong choice. 

“I think the good we do outweighs the bad,” Riley says after a few moments. “At least that’s what I tell myself so I can sleep at night.” She shifts, and for a brief, exhilarating moment, their hips press together before she pushes her knee uncomfortably into his thigh. Mac squirms, trying and failing to find a good position, ultimately taking a chance by slotting his leg between hers. Riley inhales sharply, but she doesn’t push him away. Mac tries not to read into it. Lying like this is intimate and intense and yet so easy. So right.

Mac pushes the heady feeling aside, ignoring the way it crackles in the background, threatening to consume him. They need to have this conversation, without distraction. Even welcome ones. 

“Riley, we helped them kill people,” he says, and Riley’s hand stills in his hair. 

“We can’t save everyone, Mac." 

The thrumming in his body stops so quickly Riley might as well have dumped a bucket of ice water on him. 

His heart cracks as she softly repeats, "We just can't." Like maybe she's breaking her own heart too by saying it. 

He wants to kiss her chest—to press his lips to her heart in an attempt to soothe the ache there. 

Mac understands all too well. It’s not the countless lives they have saved that stick with him, but the few they couldn’t. Zoe, the researcher who drowned in the Arctic to save her students. Jill, who fell victim to one of Murdoc’s murderous games. Charlie, who sacrificed himself so Mac wouldn’t have to choose between saving his friend and saving hundreds of innocent people. Lasky, the nuclear plant engineer who was just doing his job. Mac’s father. His aunt. Jack. 

Riley clears her throat. "So, yeah. I think we are doing the right thing. It just sucks.” 

Mac agrees, even though he can hardly admit it to himself. But there’s still one thing he doesn’t understand. “I don’t get how Matty seemed so okay with all of this,” he says. 

“Come on, Mac. You know Matty hates this just as much as we do. She wouldn’t ask us to play along if she didn’t think it was necessary.” Riley’s fingers resume their steady, sweeping path through his hair, and Mac takes comfort in the gesture. 

He sighs. “You sound like Jack.” 

“I learned from the best. Don’t tell him I said that,” Riley warns, but Mac can hear the smile in her voice. 

He tilts his face toward the ceiling, imagining Jack looking down at them from whatever afterlife he found himself in. “You hear that, old man? She admitted to learning something from you.” 

Riley snorts, giving Mac’s hair a sharp tug. “Oh shut up.” She means it to be playful, but it sends a bolt of desire through his body. 

It’s too much, with her hand in his hair and their bodies intertwined, and the intimacy may very well burn Mac alive. Every nerve in his body goes on high alert, and his grip on Riley’s rib cage tightens automatically. 

“Sleep,” she murmurs, clearly mistaking the tension in his body as coming from somewhere—anywhere—else. Riley is one of the smartest, most perceptive people Mac knows, and yet she has no idea how he feels about her. Maybe that’s a good thing, he reasons. It’s easier that way. Less complicated. 

Although full-on front-to-front cuddling isn’t not complicated. 

It doesn't take long for the gentle pressure of Riley's fingers to win out, and Mac melts into her touch, letting his body grow heavy. Sleep beckons, and his eyelids flutter shut of their own accord as Riley wraps her free arm around his back, pulling him closer. Again, he thinks she feels like safety. 

In his last moments of consciousness, Mac mumbles, “I like this,” before drifting back to sleep.

*****

For the first time, Riley is already out of bed when Mac wakes, and he’s positive it has something to do with the fact that he’s still on her side of the bed. 

Cuddling with her was a mistake. Even if it led to the best sleep he’s had in a long time. 

Burying his face in Riley’s pillow, Mac takes a deep breath. It smells like her. He hears the front door open and close, and then Riley’s muffled voice fills the apartment. Mac can’t quite pick up what she’s saying, but he thinks she’s on the phone rather than talking to Harley. 

Suddenly getting up seems like a daunting task. 

Not caring if it makes him a coward, Mac stays in bed, taking the opportunity to study the bedroom decor. This is day nine of the op, and before now Mac never bothered to appreciate the work someone put into setting up the safe house. It’s too modern and minimalist for his taste, but he has to admit it looks nice. The bedroom walls are a soft light gray, with a handful of paintings of different sizes and framed photos of him, Riley, and Harley scattered throughout. More of the photos Bozer took are in the hallway, but Mac’s never given those more than a cursory glance. 

Across from the bed sits the single, expensive-looking dresser, with overstuffed drawers that don’t quite shut all the way. One of Riley’s drawers is completely open, and the t-shirt she wore to bed last night hangs haphazardly over the edge. 

Mac’s eyes catch on the photo sitting on top of the dresser, beside the plant he keeps forgetting to water. It’s one of the wedding photos, and it’s the only photo Mac has really paid attention to, since he stares at it every day while getting dressed. The photo is of Riley and him slow dancing, and she’s looking at him like he hung the moon. And he’s looking at her the exact same way. 

More than anything, Mac wishes it was real. 

The bedroom door creaks open, and Mac cranes his neck to see Harley’s fluffy head peek through. She doesn’t enter. Instead, Harley watches him cautiously, almost like she wasn’t expecting him to be awake and is now unsure what to do. 

Mac pats the mattress. “It’s okay. Come on.” When she doesn’t move, he adds, “I’m sorry I scared you last night.” His apology must be enough, because Harley jumps on the bed with him. She stands between his outstretched legs as Mac rakes his hands through her fur, scratching her butt the way she likes. “How about I get you a new toy to make up for it?” he asks. Tail wagging, Harley licks his face in approval, and Mac laughs. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Riley raises her voice—she’s complaining about something, although Mac still can’t determine what—and both Mac and Harley turn their attention to the sound. 

Harley looks back at him, and Mac starts to think that he wasn’t far off the other day when he noticed Harley playing protector. He smiles softly. “Go check on her.” 

Harley jumps off the bed immediately, surprising Mac when she glances back at him on her way out the door. 

Still smiling, Mac gets up to start his day.

By the time he emerges from the bedroom, Riley is playing fetch with Harley in the living room while she’s on the phone. Surprised the call has lasted this long, Mac raises his brow, silently asking who she’s talking to, and Riley holds up a finger. One second. 

While he’s waiting, Mac wanders into the kitchen in search of breakfast. 

Riley’s next throw ricochets off the wall, and the tennis ball hits Mac’s thigh. “What do you mean he’s not in the database?” she shrieks. “Bozer, practically every criminal in the world is in that database.” 

Mac freezes midway through unwrapping a muffin. 

Riley pinches her nose. “Then run the sketch through the DMV database. The guy who tailed me has to exist somewhere.” 

He swallows. “Tailed?” 

“Hang on, Boze. Mac just walked in.” Exasperated, Riley moves her phone away from her face. “I took Harley for a walk while you were still asleep, and some guy tailed me. Don’t worry, I lost him long before returning to the apartment.” 

Mac bristles. Riley had been in danger, and he was asleep. Why didn’t she tell him where she was going? He tries not to think about all the bad things that could’ve happened. “You think this guy is part of the Patriots?” 

Shrugging, Riley says, “That makes the most sense. But it’s hard to know for sure when we don’t have personnel records.” 

That’s just one of many problems with this op—no official list of known members of the Patriots. Mac and Riley have no choice but to learn about people the old-fashioned way. 

Pinning her phone between her cheek and her shoulder, Riley retrieves the tennis ball from under the couch, her voice muffled as she asks, “Got anything, Boze?” A few seconds later, she groans, but Mac can’t tell whether it’s because of Bozer’s answer or the amount of hair now stuck to the visibly soggy tennis ball in her hands. He makes a mental note to vacuum again. “Thanks for trying,” she says before hanging up. 

Treading carefully, Mac asks, “Well?” He doesn’t need to be a genius to know that she’s still rattled, no matter how much she tries to downplay it. 

“His name is Peter Morrison, and he has three speeding tickets. That’s it.” Still holding the tennis ball, Riley’s shoulders slump as she sits on the arm of the couch. Confused why she stopped playing, Harley stands between Riley’s legs and whines, nosing Riley’s hand in an attempt to get her to throw the ball again. 

When Riley doesn’t oblige her, Mac asks, “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” Riley says, but her voice is tight and she bristles when he moves closer. He knows she’s lying—they’ve both been lying a lot recently—but what Mac doesn’t understand is why. He knows why he’s lying, but why does Riley still feel the need to hide how she’s feeling from him? 

It’s like the intimacy of last night never happened. 

Mac takes the wet, hairy tennis ball from her hands and throws it for Harley. “Do you want a hug or help kicking someone’s ass?” The question earns him a small smile, one that makes Mac’s heart flutter in his chest. 

“I was thinking more along the lines of punching someone in the face, but I suppose we can kick them too,” she quips. Mac laughs, and the corners of Riley’s eyes crinkle as her smile widens. 

“Sounds like a plan.” Harley brings the ball back and drops it at Mac’s feet. “Last throw,” he tells her, knowing full well it won’t be. Turning his attention back to Riley, he asks, “How’s your shoulder?”

Absent-mindedly, Riley’s fingers trace the outline of a bruise peeking out from beneath her tank top. “It hurts. You grabbed it in your sleep last night, and I almost screamed.” 

Mac grimaces. “Sorry.” He wants to ask about last night and make sure they’re okay, but the words refuse to form. “I’m going to call Conrad and make him explain, okay?” 

“Okay.” Riley nods. For a second, it seems like she wants to say something more, but she ultimately doesn’t. Honoring her implicit request for space, Mac briefly squeezes her arm as he walks away. The gesture is a promise: I’m here.

*****

“This is unacceptable,” Mac growls at Ethan, later that day. After giving Conrad an earful over the phone, apparently Mac made a big enough fuss to warrant a visit from the leader of the Patriots himself. They meet in public—neutral ground—at a park not unlike the one across the street from Mac and Riley’s apartment. It feels wrong to use the term safe house, since it’s not as safe as they thought. 

“I’m sorry you feel that way, James,” Ethan placates. “It’s simply standard business procedure. I’m sure you researched us before formally offering your services.” 

Mac barely stops himself from making a face. Oh they researched the Patriots, all right. “Of course we did.” He really should do a better job of holding his snark at bay, but Mac lets it tint his words anyway. “But we didn’t invade individual members’ privacy or threaten anyone’s personal safety.” 

“My employee did not and would not have hurt your wife. She was never in danger, I can assure you.” 

“And how was she supposed to know that?” He’s borderline yelling, but Mac is too pissed to care. The more Ethan tries to convince him the situation is okay, the more Mac wishes they were closer to the playground so he could strangle Ethan with the chain from the swings. He snarls, “Explain that to me.” 

Ethan, it seems, is at a rare loss for words. Mac waits, forcing the other man to fill the silence. “I suppose she wouldn’t have,” Ethan finally admits, although he shows no sign of backing down. 

Mac stands. “Don’t let this happen again.” He starts to walk away, content with having the last word, but Mac stops dead in his tracks when Ethan calls after him. 

“If you won’t comply with the way we do things, then I guess we’ll just have to find someone else.” 

Mac spins on his heel. “That’s bullshit,” he spits. “You need us. You won’t find anyone better, at least not that you can afford, and we both know it. Your organization is small potatoes right now, but with our support, the Patriots could join the big leagues. So it’s up to you to decide whether you’re content with throwing your money at a pipe dream or if you want to actually accomplish something.” Ethan is taller than him, but Mac manages to look down at him anyway—something he learned from Matty. “The choice is yours. Let me know when you’ve made it.” 

Without waiting for a response, Mac shoves his hands in his pockets and walks away, praying he didn’t just ruin the whole op.

.

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[heyitssmiller]

Clandestine: Chapter Three

The first mission doesn’t exactly go as planned. Also, Logan has a thing for glasses, apparently.

@lumosinlove Thank you for letting me run away with your characters! <3

Again, @donttouchmycarrots is my hero and the best proofreader ever! This fic wouldn’t be what it is without her.

Clandestine Masterlist

.

The bank was quiet, save for the soft murmurings of tellers and customers. Sunlight filtered through the windows of the storefront, light and hazy. The office plant by the front door was growing way too big for its pot. There were a few people waiting in line, absently scrolling through their phones. Others were sitting in the waiting area, mindlessly taking in their surroundings. It was calm, peaceful.

Or it was, until a redhead came sprinting out of the men’s restroom, screaming “Fire!” at the top of his lungs.

The bank then descended into madness.

A man watched from the driver’s seat of his car as people frantically streamed out of the building and onto the sidewalk. He sighed, taking a second to rest his forehead against the steering wheel. “Damnit, O’Hara. This wasn’t part of the plan.”

29 Hours Earlier

“Good morning, cubs!”

“Fuck you, Black.” Logan muttered into his cup of coffee. “It’s too early to be that excited.”

Leo smiled a little and set a paper bag on the table. Logan stared at it. Where had it come from? He hadn’t seen Leo carrying it into the briefing room, but it was too big to stuff into his pockets. He didn’t have a bag or anything – the only thing he was carrying with him was a notebook and a pen. How did he manage to smuggle it in?

Logan was so confused, and it was still too early.

“I brought muffins.” Leo explained, opening the bag and handing one to Finn. “They’re cinnamon swirl.”

“Nut, did you make these?” Finn asked, removing the wrapper and taking a big bite. Leo shrugged.

“I like to cook.”

Black looked up at him in awe. “These are amazing.” He cradled the muffin in his hand like it was something precious.

“I can give you the recipe, if you want.”

Logan grabbed a muffin, looking up quickly at Remus’ snort. “He can’t cook.”

“Neither can you.” Sirius shot back, a little more hostile than his usual teasing manner. Logan glanced back and forth between the pair, tearing off a piece of muffin and popping it into his mouth. Fuck, that was good.

His partners had clearly picked up on the tension, too, but neither of them brought it up. Leo twirled his pen around in his hand, eyes moving from the pair to Finn. He smiled as the redhead enthusiastically grabbed another muffin. Logan snapped his gaze back to Sirius. “Can we get started, please?” He asked pointedly. “If you make me get up this early, we’d better be doing something productive.”

Finn laughed at him, nose scrunching. “Are you always this grumpy in the morning?”

Green eyes rimmed with dark, dark lashes glared back at him. Logan didn’t say a word but took a long sip of coffee instead, refusing to break eye contact. Finn let himself stare a little longer than he probably should have. He wasn’t lying when he told Logan he was a sucker for green eyes.

Sirius finally broke the tension-filled staring competition between himself and Loops and looked down at his files. Remus started the projector without a word, only speaking up when he was ready to begin his presentation. “We’re starting you three off with the easiest flash drives to retrieve – the two in the banks.”

He moved to a picture of the layout of one of the banks, pointing at a small room tucked away in a corner of the building. “So the safe is back here in this room. You can’t get back there without permission or an escort, which makes it a little trickier. The security system is also very high-grade, so I don’t think trying to break in after hours is our best bet here. There’s too many little things we might miss.

“The plan is to go undercover. Leo and Finn, you’ll be infiltrating this bank. Logan, you’ll be lookout. Leo, you’re going to pretend to be a safe specialist. Tell them the make and model of the safe Riddle uses is faulty and the company sent you to see if this one needs to be replaced. I don’t really care what you say, just make it believable.”

“What kind of safe is it?” Leo asked.

Sirius looked down at his notes. “It’s a… Tigerking Digital Security safe. Does that mean anything to you?”

Leo grinned. “Makes my job a hell of a lot easier. They’ve got a weak spot.”

“What am I doing during all of this?” Finn asked through a mouthful of muffin, crumbs stuck to his mouth. He swiped at them with his tongue before speaking again, “Distraction?”

“Yeah. It’ll have to be big – big enough to get Leo alone with that safe. How long do you think it’ll take to crack, Knut?”

He shrugged. “Ten minutes, tops. It’s got this small hole at the back where bolts are fed through. I can get a stiff wire through that hole and hit the reset button. Then I can reset the code of the safe and open it without leaving a trace.”

Finn smiled, mischief in his eyes. “I think I can manage a ten-minute distraction.”

That… that didn’t sound good.

Finn took one look at Logan’s fearful face and laughed. “Relax, it’s nothing too dramatic. I’ll probably just ask for whoever takes Leo back to look at the safe and then throw a fit when they say he’s not available. And then I’ll drag out our conversation to give our dear Nut enough time. Simple.”

“That… actually works.”

Finn scoffed, giving Remus a look. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Because you’re Finn O’Hara.”

Finn thought about it for a second, then shrugged. “That’s fair.”

“Nut, when you open the safe you need to replace the real flash drive with this decoy.” Sirius said, holding up a blue flash drive. “This op might take weeks or months – if Riddle comes to check on this drive, he needs to see one instead of an empty safe. Now, if he actually checks the information on the flash drives… well, we’re screwed. Hopefully it won’t come to that. He doesn’t usually check the flash drives unless absolutely necessary – it’s too much of a hassle.”

“And I’ll loop the security camera footage when you get there, so there won’t be any evidence of you tampering with the safe.” Remus said. “Get in, get out. Not too hard, right? And we’ll both be with you every step of the way. You’ll have microphones and earpieces so that we can all communicate.”

Finn couldn’t tell if the bouncing of Leo’s leg was his normal restlessness or nerves. His face was a mask of calm that revealed nothing. For someone who didn’t have any previous experience in espionage or conning people, he sure was good at hiding how he was feeling.

Finn handed him another muffin anyways.

The dimpled smile he got in return was nothing but genuine.

***

Remus sat down on his couch with his dinner, sighing to himself as he stretched out his back. It had been a long day, but he finally felt ready for tomorrow. Their plan was solid, the cubs were as ready as they were ever going to be, he had his video loop for the security camera in the safe room, the rest of his tech had been checked over and deemed ready to go. There wasn’t much else he could do besides get a good night’s sleep if he could.

That would be easier said than done, though.

Sirius chose that moment to throw open the door and close it loudly behind him. Remus glared at him. “Is that really necessary?” He asked, but didn’t add anything else on as Sirius slammed down a stack of hand-written pages onto Remus’ coffee table. 

“You want me to open up? Fine. There’s all you need to know about me.”

Remus looked down at the pages and instantly felt guilty. How long had he been working on this? “You didn’t have to-”

“You said you couldn’t trust me.” Sirius interrupted coolly. “I can’t get my brother to safety if you guys don’t trust me.”

It appeared that his brother was his sole motivation. For all of this. Remus could understand that. He’d stop at nothing if the safety of his own brother was put into question.

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to do this.” Remus looked up at him, at the stiff set to his shoulders, the detached look in his eyes. He went too far the last time they’d talked about this, hadn’t he? “Look, we got along for over a week when you first got here. I think we can do that again, right?”

At Sirius’ skeptical face, he sighed. “This is on me just as much as you. I… I don’t trust easily.” He had to laugh at that massive understatement. “Perks of being a spy. But I feel like we can manage learning to trust each other the old-fashioned way.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

“Getting totally, outrageously drunk and sharing all our secrets.”

Sirius’ straight face only lasted for about a second before he busted out laughing. “You go from wanting my entire life story to wanting to get drunk together?”

“It’s a failproof way to gain someone’s trust.” Remus said solemnly, cracking a smile when Sirius laughed again, incredulous. “But not tonight. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“This Friday, then?”

He couldn’t help but notice the hopeful look on Sirius’ face. Had he ever done this with someone before? Did he have any friends besides his brother previously? He put up this excitable, outgoing façade, but Remus honestly had no idea what lay underneath. He nodded decisively. “This Friday.”

Sirius hesitated, then spoke again. “Do you think they’re ready?”

“I think so. And we’ll be there if something goes wrong.” Remus met his eyes, trying to instill confidence into the ex-Snake. “No matter what happens, we’re going to do our best to get your brother out safely.”

“And what if that’s not enough?” Sirius asked, eyes haunted.

That was exactly why Remus hadn’t made any strict promises. There was no way to guarantee that they would get Regulus back. If Remus was in Sirius’ shoes, if this this was Jules instead of Regulus, what would Remus most want to hear?

“We’re going to do everything we can, I promise.” He said, soft but firm. “I know that’s not enough, but it’s the best we can do as of right now.”

Sirius stared back, then nodded. “Thank you.” He looked down at Remus’ food. “What’s for dinner? I’m starving.”

Remus laughed, shoving him away. “Get your own, you leech. This is mine.”

“Leech?” Sirius demanded, dramatizing his offence. “I can’t believe you called me a leech. You were the one who offered to house me, after all.”

That was true. Even if he hated to admit it, Remus was lonely. He lived in this apartment all by himself, worked mostly on his own, and his family lived miles and miles away. And being a spy didn’t exactly make it easy to find friends. He was distrusting and cautious by nature, especially after... well. After he left fieldwork and transitioned to a desk job.

He didn’t know why he’d offered to let Sirius stay, honestly. He just got this gut feeling that it was the right thing to do.

And Remus Lupin always trusted his gut.

“Worst decision I’ve ever made.” He quipped, laughing as Sirius threw a pillow at him. Sirius was a horrible roommate. He left dishes in the sink, beard trimmings on the bathroom counter, and his shoes haphazardly strewn about the living room.

But he always had hot water on the stovetop in the mornings when Remus woke up, always let him pick what they watched on tv at nights, and always replaced anything he had used up without being asked. And, if Remus was being completely honest with himself, soft gray eyes paired with an even softer smile weren’t exactly a terrible thing to wake up to.

So far, this whole roommate business wasn’t too bad.

***

Logan hated nothing more than being lookout.

He watched on as Finn and Leo geared up, testing their mics and earpieces and making adjustments accordingly. He was supposed to be watching the entrance to make sure no Snakes entered the building. They were doing the first bank heist while Logan was stuck here, in the car parked on the street, where he couldn’t see what was going on or if his partners were in trouble.

Their first mission, and he was stuck outside.

Ugh.

“You ready for this?” Finn asked Leo as he discreetly tucked a wire under his collar and out of sight. Leo had his eyes trained on the building across from them, wrapped in his coat and a thick scarf, fingers drumming out a staccato beat on his thigh. He didn’t seem to have heard Finn.

“Nut?”

Leo swiveled his head to look back at them. “Hmm?”

“You ok?” Logan asked, watching the blond’s face for signs of nervousness or stress. But his gaze was steady, determined. For someone on their first mission, he was remarkably calm. Either that or a much better actor than Logan had given him credit for. But then his expression flickered and a shadow of doubt crept in.

“I’m fine.” He said, and Logan couldn’t tell if he was trying to convince them or himself. He reached out and gave the blond’s shoulder a squeeze, letting his hand linger before trailing it down his arm and pulling away.

“You’re fine.” Logan reassured with a smile and watched the resolve build back up in Leo’s eyes, causing the knot in Logan’s chest to ease up a little.

That was better.

Finn looked at him for a second, then took his glasses off. “Here, put these on. I feel like your cover story requires glasses.” He gently eased them onto the other boy’s face. Leo blinked rapidly, then squinted and widened his eyes to adjust to the lenses.

“Jesus, what prescription is this?”

“It’s not that bad.” Finn said, ruffling Leo’s hair in retaliation. He took a step back to see the finished product and whistled lowly. “Damn, maybe we should take those off again. We’re supposed to be unmemorable when we’re undercover. No one will be able to take their eyes off you with those on.”

Logan had to agree there. Soft blue eyes blinked back at them from behind tortoiseshell frames, looking larger than they normally did. Leo buried his nose in his scarf in an attempt to hide the blush caused by Finn’s flirtatious words.

The sight did strange things to Logan’s stomach.

Remus’ voice reached them through their com link, startling all three of them. “You guys ready to go?”

Leo took a deep, steadying breath. “Let’s do this.” He looked back at Logan, eyes fierce – a stark contrast to the soft look of only a few seconds ago. Logan sucked in a breath of his own. This kid sure was something.

“See you in a bit.”

“See you in a bit.” Logan echoed, grabbing the car keys out of his pocket and letting his lips twitch up into a smile at Finn’s cheery salute. He leaned against the car door and watched the pair make their way around the corner and towards the bank without glancing back.

He got back into the car and moved it around the same corner before putting it in park. His eyes shifted between the street in front of him and his rearview mirror, a book in his lap to keep from raising suspicions, and settled in to worry and wait.

***

Leo shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting and made his way to the front desk. Ignoring his pounding heart as best he could, he locked eyes with the teller and smiled. “Hi there. Is your manager here?” He asked, dragging his accent out slow and sweet like molasses. “I’ve got a few questions about your safes.”

She smiled back. “Sure thing. I’ll go grab him.” Leo thanked her as she left, looking around while he waited and trying his hardest not to squint too much in Finn’s glasses. 

“Nut, between the accent and the glasses - plus your looks in general - I think that girl is half in love with you already.” Sirius’ voice teased, causing Leo to flinch slightly. He needed to get used to hearing the voices of people he couldn’t see during these missions.

“She is not.” He muttered back as he pretended to rub his nose, covering his mouth as he spoke so that no one else could see it. His hand absentmindedly played with the old, frayed bracelet on his wrist.

“You can do better, Nut.” Logan chimed in, voice a little gruff.

“How do you know?” Sirius asked. “You can’t even see her.”

“I’m using my imagination.”

Sirius barked out a laugh while Remus just sighed and requested that they all stay focused. Leo glanced around at the lobby again. Finn was standing in line behind him, looking at something on his phone. He forced himself not to look at his partner too long and kept scanning the rest of the lobby. It seemed to be a pretty quiet day - there weren’t too many people inside. A few people were seated in the waiting area and some were waiting in line behind Finn. Leo saw the teller and a short, balding man who must have been the bank manager making their way back towards him.

Leo stuck his hand out when they reached him, which the manager shook with a fake smile on his face.

“Hi, how are you doing?” Leo asked, withdrawing his hand. “I’m Fred Decker with Tigerking Digital Security. I have on record that you’re currently using one of our safes, is that correct?”

“Fred?” Sirius’ voice asked incredulously. “Of all the aliases you could use, you choose Fred? Nut, you should be ashamed of yourself.”

Remus hissed at him to shut up. Leo ignored it.

“Yes, that’s right.” The manager said, a bit stiff. “What’s this about?”

“There’s a recall on a few of our safes. I was wondering if I could take a look at yours and see if it needs to be replaced. Free of charge, of course. This is an error on our part, and we want to do all we can to fix it.”

The manager hesitated, then nodded. “This way.”

Leo followed the man through a set of doors into a hallway, spotting Finn out of the corner of his eye as he approached the front desk and sent Leo a quick wink. That, more than anything, calmed Leo’s nerves. If Finn was acting like this was just run-of-the-mill and not a big deal, then they must’ve been doing something right. The door closed behind Leo, blocking his vision of the lobby. He took a fortifying breath and followed the manager into the safe room, secluded from the rest of the bank.

“Here we are,” The manager said, then pointed to a safe wedged into the corner of the room. “And there’s your safe.”

“The camera in the safe room is already on a loop, Leo. You’re all set.” Remus’ voice said, steady and calm. Leo looked the safe over, stalling as he waited for Finn’s distraction.

“Fuck,” he heard through his earpiece. “Leo, you’re going to have to hang in there for a few more seconds. The planned distraction didn’t work.”

Leo swallowed, looking back up at the manager. “So there’s these holes in the back, see?” He said, figuring a sure-fire way for him to stall was to talk about the safe. He could keep up a conversation like this for hours. “They’re used to bolt the safes into the wall. A few of our older models have larger holes.”

He grabbed the stiff coil of wire out of his pocket. “Some thieves have learned that you can get to the reset button in these older models if you use a tough wire like this and insert it through one of the holes. Basically all I want to do today is see if a thief could potentially do that with this safe. Is that all right with you?”

“Yes, of course! If there’s a problem, our client would want that fixed immediately.”

“I’m sure they would.” Leo said absentmindedly as he started fiddling with the wire for as long as he possibly could. He straightened it out from it’s coil, looked down it’s length, and then pretended to straighten some kinks out.

Don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic-

Remus’ voice was a little more tense now. “Finn, where’s that distraction?”

Finn, who was in the men’s bathroom grabbing handful after handful of paper towels and shoving them into a trash can, grumbled, “I’m working on it, ok? Sirius was right - that teller definitely has a type, and it sure as hell isn’t me. I had to improvise.”

“What does that mean?” Logan asked warily. Finn could practically see him gripping the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip as he forced himself to stay put. “What are you doing?”

Finn grabbed the bottle of hand sanitizer on the bathroom sink and took the top off, dumping the contents into the trash can as well. He grabbed the lighter in his pocket (he liked to be prepared, thank you very much) and produced a small flame.

“Something stupid.”

He lowered the lighter to the trashcan and prepared to run.

Leo could hear the shouting from Finn’s distraction all the way back in the safe room. He looked up at the manager, pretending to be confused. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure.” The manager frowned, shifting from foot to foot nervously as he looked towards the commotion. “I’m going to check it out. I’ll be right back, ok?”

Leo waved him off with a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right here.” He messed around with the safe until the door closed, then hissed, “Finn, what the hell is going on out there?” He moved Finn’s glasses to perch on top of his head and shoved the wire through one hole in the back of the safe. He grabbed his flashlight to look through the hole on the other side, searching for a small red button.

“I might’ve started a fire in the men’s restroom.”

“You what?” Leo demanded, finally finding the reset button and moving the wire steadily closer to it. “You do realize that does the exact opposite of give me more time, right?” Sure enough, the fire alarm sounded, loud and clear.

“Fuck me.” Leo muttered as he jabbed the reset button with the wire. Someone - Leo thought it might be Finn, but he wasn’t sure - muttered something too soft and muffled to be picked up by their mic. Leo didn’t have the time to question it. The safe door opened with a soft click. He quickly switched the flash drive with the replica and closed the door again. The wire got recoiled and shoved back into his pocket, Finn’s glasses returned to resting on his nose. He climbed to his feet and made his way towards the lobby at a quick pace. “I’ve got it.”

“Nice work, Nut.” He heard Logan say, and couldn’t repress the jittery feeling he always got after a successful job. He exited the bank, looking around for the manager. He seemed busy as he talked to his employees in an attempt to get the situation under control. He caught Leo’s eyes and stepped towards him. “Mr. Decker! I was looking for you.”

Leo only just remembered to over-exaggerate his accent. “I heard the alarm and high-tailed it out here. Was it a prank?”

“No,” He said after a beat of hesitation, “Someone actually started a fire in the men’s bathroom. The fire department is on its way. Hopefully it won’t take too long and you can get back to looking at that safe.”

“No need, I already finished. The holes were too small for the wire, so y’all should be fine. Anything thinner than the wire I used will be too flimsy to press that reset button.” Leo glanced down at his watch. “I do have six more banks to visit today, though, so I’m afraid this is where I leave you. Thank you for being so cooperative.” He held out his hand for the manager to shake again and gave one last smile before walking back down the street towards their designated rendezvous, trying to look casual and not like he was running away from the scene of a theft.

Sure enough, a non-descript gray car was waiting for him, right where it was supposed to be. Without a word, he climbed into the back and sprawled across all three seats, throwing an arm over his eyes as Logan put the car into drive.

The three of them were silent for a few seconds before Leo cracked a smile and laughed. “The one thing – the one thing that could get me kicked out of that safe room too fast, and that’s what you decided would make a perfect distraction?”

Finn looked back at the back seat with a grin, which softened when he laid eyes on the blond. His hair shone in the late-morning sunlight, highlighting a streak of gray at his temple. Those long legs of his took up most of the back row, and even then he still had to bend his knees to fit all the way. His eyes were blocked by his arm, but Finn could’ve seen those dimples via satellite image from space. 

“Hey, cut me some slack. I was making it up as I went.” This sent Leo into another fit of laughter, causing Finn’s smile to broaden.

“Besides,” Logan added, “You’re quick with your hands. You didn’t need all ten minutes, you barely needed three.”

Leo shrugged, which looked really strange in his current position on his back. “Got lucky. Found that reset button faster than I usually do.” He adjusted Finn’s glasses, which were still resting on his nose. “Maybe I need glasses, too.”

“Shut up. Those glasses are a statement piece, thank you very much.”

Logan snorted, watching Leo’s hand reach over the center console to return the glasses to their rightful owner. “Maybe that’s why you’re a terrible marksman, O’Hara. When’s the last time you got that prescription checked?”

Finn gasped in offense. Logan glanced over briefly and noticed the tips of his ears getting red. Cute.

“How dare you! I am not a terrible marksman!”

“That’s not what your file says.”

“What?”

“The evidence doesn’t lie.” Logan said, struggling to bite back his grin. Finn was just so fun to tease.

“Screw debriefing. When we get back to the office, we’re going to the shooting range.” Finn crossed his arms over his chest sulkily. “Terrible marksman. How dare they. Nutter Butter, back me up here.”

Leo blinked at the new nickname, but he couldn’t say he minded it too much. Especially when Finn said it like that, with such unfiltered affection. He watched the redhead turn around in his seat to look at him with big Bambi eyes, only then remembering that he was looking for an answer from Leo.

He put on a show of thinking about it, then shrugged. “I dunno, Finn. The evidence doesn’t lie.”

“Et tu, Brute?” Finn whined. “Betrayed by both of my partners. Unbelievable.”

Leo wished there was another word for partner. Maybe he should refer to them as just coworkers now. The term partner was giving him ideas. 

Ideas he couldn’t afford to be having for the first and quite possibly the biggest op of his life.

“Also, you’re one to talk!” Leo looked back up at Finn when he realized he was talking to him. “Have you ever shot a gun before, rookie?” He stopped suddenly, then grinned broadly. “Oh man, please tell me you’ve shot a gator when you were back in Louisiana. That’s so badass.”

Leo arched an eyebrow.

“Just because there’s horror stories about gators doesn’t mean they deserve to be shot.” Logan said, switching his turn signal on and waiting for the left turn light to change from red to green. “They’re a big part of the ecosystem.”

“And they kill people.”

“Oh come on, when’s the last time you heard of someone being killed by a gator?”

“Literally last week, down in Florida.”

“Well, that’s Florida. Crazy stuff like that happens in Florida all the time.”

“Did you hear about that guy from Florida who made a beer run while holding a gator?”

Logan chuckled, glancing over at his partner in disbelief. “What?”

“You heard me! Apparently he walked in, looked around and asked ‘Y’all ain’t out of beer, are you?’ But then the story gets weirder!”

Leo just sat in the backseat and laughed at Finn’s dramatic retelling of Florida news as building after building flashed by outside their windows, feeling lighter than air. His first mission was a success. He grabbed the small, innocuous flash drive out of his pocket, twirling it in his hand. One down, six more to go. If all missions were like this, taking down the Snakes wouldn’t be so bad.

He should’ve knocked on wood after having that thought.

[itsallmightbitch]

Covert Ops For Dummies (Part 2)

I hope you’re all excited, because the skinny scarecrow man is back and is making panties drop all over the place.

Pairing: All Might/Toshinori Yagi x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Smut and swearing. Par for the course with me, kids.

Word Count: 12211, give or take.

Summary: After your little tryst in the closet a week ago, Toshinori has been avoiding you. Hizashi is eager to make back some of the money he lost and you know just how he can help you.

*once again this gif isn’t mine but is oddly appropriate....

---------

It had been a week since the ‘incident’ in the closet and so far, Toshinori had been… well. If you were honest, you had no idea how he’d been.

 He’d been avoiding you.

 You weren’t really taking it to heart. At least, not anymore. The first night, yeah, you’d been stuck in your own head, wondering if maybe you’d done something wrong or if you’d been too forward. But the more you’d dwelt on it, the more you had started to realise that this was his thing to work through- not yours.

 He could barely meet your eye across the room at the next teacher’s meeting and when he eventually did, his face had instantly bloomed red and he’d choked out some terrible excuse in order to run off early.

 You might have been offended if you had thinner skin.

 Thankfully, you guessed that it wasn’t your fault that he was acting the way he was. Despite all those little whispered things in the closet, the cold light of day had made him panic. Years of hating himself for being what he saw as weak, his failing health and self-loathing when he was what you’d affectionately dubbed as ‘Small’ Might… that wasn’t going to go away because he’d fingered you in a closet and you’d told him he was still pretty.

 It had been silly of you to even consider it.

The long process of getting home after the event had given his brain time to work and time to freak out. Getting past those reporters, the police, the very thankful parents- all of whom wanted to stop him, talk to him, shake his hand.

You just knew that during that, he’d somehow come to the conclusion that what had happened between you was simply you feeling sorry for him and that any affection or attraction you’d shown him was the result of pity.

 Pfft, as if.

 For God’s sake, you felt sorry for Hizashi after he’d been wrangled out of his money but you weren’t planning on visiting that closet again any time soon.

 Like a gentleman, he’d walked you to your car afterwards but even before you’d registered the cogs turning in that big ol’ brain of his, he was making his excuses and blasting off like he was Team fucking Rocket.

 So much for dragging him back to your place. You’d watched him go, your mind a jumbled mess of want, hurt and longing.

 All of those feelings had ultimately led you here, doing something that you wouldn’t normally ever consider doing. Although, you’d never really considered getting it on in a closet of a strange house before either so…

 After you’d given him a brief outline of your plan, and he’d stopped laughing at you, Hizashi had been all too eager to make back some of the money he’d lost to Aizawa. It didn’t take much convincing for him to bend the rules a little. You’d sent him off on his merry way with a few Out of Bounds signs and instructions to get Toshinori up to his office by any means necessary.

 His office was nice, you decided as you waited patiently on the couch.

 He had an adorable amount of All Might paraphernalia littered around and an American flag was pinned proudly on the wall- next to several framed photos of him shaking hands with other celebrities. But that was nothing compared to his desk.

 It made you feel all warm inside, just looking over the few personal photos that were framed there.

 A photo of him and young Midoryia, looking very proud of themselves at a beach. He and David Shield, arms slung over each others shoulders and sporting those carefree smiles that youth brought on their faces. A picture of a very stern faced Nighteye that made you mildly uncomfortable as it seemed to judge you through the glass.

Quit judging, you thought. He needs to relax and this is a fucking great way to do it.

You moved on from that one quite quickly.

 At the end of the row was that damned faculty photograph that Principal Nezu had made you all participate in.

 The one where you’d purposely shoved yourself against Toshinori’s side despite the photographer’s insistence that the shorter of you were to stand in the front. When you’d protested, Toshinori had done something you hadn’t expected him to do, given his disposition for being a wallflower around you.

 He’d bent down, his big hands around your waist and suddenly, he was lifting you with ease. Up, up, until he sat you on his shoulder. You’d been an ecstatic mess, a stupid smile on your face and your usually uncooperative wings spread out above the other teachers.

 All Might had struck his usual pose, flexing his muscles and grinning- except one of his hands was on your hip, holding you steady the whole time and the sensation of his fingers pressing into you had stayed with you for days.

 Thus, the official faculty photograph had been born. The one that all the papers were forced to publish, seeing as you’d all refused to have another one taken.

 He could be bold with you when he wanted to be and days like that proved it.

 The memory of that day was one of your favourites. Seeing that confidence, how pleased he was with himself over making you smile. It was like catching a glimpse into the past. 

 You eyed the big, comfortable looking couch in the corner.

 That definitely looked sturdy enough-

 You didn’t get to finish your train of thought because the door opened suddenly and All Might was shoved inside, Hizashi hot on his heels. He was mid-sentence as he walked in, laughing over something Hizashi was saying and he didn’t even notice you.

 “Well, if it’s that urgent Mic, I suppose I can spare a few minutes!”

 “Trust me. You’ll be thanking me for weeks to come.”

 “Thanking you? Thanking you for-”

 His eyes settled on you when he finally focused his attention on the room and his voice caught in his throat, long enough for Hizashi to belt out a raucous laugh. He slapped a hand against All Might’s broad back and then turned his beaming grin to you.

 “One Number One Hero, delivered as promised,” he waggled his eyebrows. “You kids have fu-un!”

It was a good thing you hadn’t gone with your original plan of greeting him in lingerie.

 Before you could even think about reprimanding Mic, he was gone, leaving behind nothing more than a smoke trail and Toshinori looking for a means of escape. You made sure he knew that it wasn’t going to happen, quickly positioning yourself between him and the doorway. Despite his unlimited strength, you knew that he wouldn’t barge you out of the way just to save face.

 Like you’d said before. He was too much of a gentleman.

 “You. Sit. Now,” you pointed at the couch, using your best angry voice and you swear that you saw him swallow hard, eyes trained on the carpet as he followed your instructions and seated himself on the plush cushions.

 “I um, didn’t think you were working today,” he muttered, rubbing one hand over the back of his neck and fidgeting with a button of his suit with his other. Another part of your absolutely diabolical plan. You’d purposely left your car at home that morning, so he wouldn’t see it in the parking lot.

 “Well here I am,” you said shortly. “It looks like cornering you seems to be the only way I’m going to get you to talk, so... yeah. Talk. Why have you been avoiding me this week? I was starting to think I had the plague.”

Both true and untrue. You knew why, deep down. 

 “I haven’t been avoiding you-” he spluttered.

 You inwardly rolled your eyes in exasperation. While it was nice of him to try and spare your feelings, he was an absolutely awful liar when he wasn’t prepared.

 “Liar.”

 He winced like you’d struck him and you softened your tone, realising you’d have to approach this differently. You couldn’t just wrangle the answers out of him like you could with other people.  Sometimes you wondered what he’d been like, back in the days of his youth when he was saving people with a smile and that villain hadn’t yet darkened his door.

 Had he been confident about his body? Had wild romances and broken a slew of hearts on the way?

 Maybe.

 But… even then, he didn’t seem the type to do things like that. He was a man married to his work, with too much empathy for others to go around breaking hearts. That’s why you knew full well that him avoiding you hadn’t been to intentionally hurt you. Looking at him now in his muscular form, still almost too embarrassed to look you in the eye- you wondered if anyone had ever told him that just being him was enough.

 You wanted to climb into his lap and show him it was enough. He was enough.

 On the other hand, he kind of deserved to sweat after the week you’d had. Anxious, confused and unbelievably horny. A barrage of almost hourly daydreams, most of which involved his hands in some way, shape or form. 

Your marking scheme had gone straight to Hell- especially after you’d set your students an essay about a hero who had inspired them. Half of the papers had been about All Might and you’d thrown A’s left, right and fucking centre at them.

Even the terrible ones.

 The nights held no reprieve either.

 There hadn’t been one that had gone by where you didn’t wake up, breathing hard and sweating like you’d just run twenty blocks in the midday sun. It was exhausting. It was like your body was always on edge, longing for another touch, another look. 

The constant nervous tension was getting to you and your concentration had suffered for it.

 All because Toshinori Yagi had fucking fantastic hands and was withholding access to them.

 You had to shake yourself to bring reality rushing back.

 “So… what? You just get me off once and then run for it? Is that how it is, Toshinori? Did it really mean that little to you?” you asked inspite of yourself. You hadn’t actually meant to say those things.

You hadn’t even realised that you were this upset about it. So much for not taking it personally. His head shot up, eyes wide with surprise when what you’d said finally registered. 

“You could have just told me. You didn’t need to- I dunno. Spare my feelings,” you said, quietly.

 “What!? No! Tha- That’s not it at all!” he yelped, standing from the couch with surprising speed.

 “Then what is it? Did you not enjoy yourself?” you said and rested a hand in the centre of his chest. His whole body tightened under your palm, like every muscle was being electrocuted just because you were touching him. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, watching the red rising up along his neck like he was going to start blowing steam from his ears.

 “Of course I enjoyed it,” he said at last and to your surprise, his voice didn’t shake once. His hand did though, when he brought it up to cover yours. “Every second of being with you like- like that,” he said and swallowed hard. You tilted your head to the side, eyes searching his face. “Things were just a little overwhelming, especially after Eraserhead finding us. I don’t deal with things like that well.”

 That was an understatement. You gave him an understanding half smile. It had been embarrassing for both of you.

 You had studiously avoided Shouta for the better part of three days and it only just dawned on you that Toshinori had probably done the same. Not that Shouta seemed to care much about the whole thing beyond getting his money.

 He hadn’t mentioned it again.

 “Look, Toshi, I get it okay? Heh, at least I think I do-” you tried, sighing when the words refused to come. Maybe it was because of the low, dull throb between your legs or maybe it was because he looked so damn good in that suit but you were distracted. “But I’d prefer it if you talked to me about it instead of hoping it’ll just go away.”

 “I didn’t want it to-” he started, but then stopped himself. “I thought things would be alright between us if I just stayed away. A dumb plan, admittedly,” he flashed you a sheepish smile and squeezed your hand in his.

 “Listen,” you said slowly, “Could you maybe, you know, shrink down please?”

 He shot you a bemused look and you could guess it was the same as the look he’d given you back in the coat closet the first time you’d asked. It wasn’t something that many people asked him to do often.

 “What? Why?” he asked, clearly caught off guard. Good. That gave you a higher chance of actually getting him to do as you asked. It felt like you needed to prove a point. That you were interested in Toshinori too- not just All Might. “I still have a few hours to go…”

 “Does it make you uncomfortable? You don’t have to,” you acquiesced, although reluctantly. You knew there was a line for him but... as much as you wanted him to be comfortable with you, you didn’t want to have sex with him now if he was in his muscular form. It would entirely defeat the purpose of you being here.

 “No, no, it’s alright,” he said after a beat and to your relief he did as you asked. The room quickly filled with smoke.

 He didn’t actually lose much height on you, you noticed, once you had wafted the smoke away and he’d recovered from his coughing fit. Straightening up from where he’d been bent at the waist, you thumbed a line across his bottom lip absently, wiping away blood.

 “Sorry,” he grunted, scrubbing his hand over his face to make sure there was nothing left. It had sounded painful and you knew it happened often.

 “Are you okay?” you asked, searching his face. Your hand still lay on his chest, thumbing absentminded circles against his shirt and he met your gaze with those vivid, strikingly blue eyes that always took the words out of your mouth. Your stomach swooped in your gut and a low, excited throb pulsed between your thighs.

 The longing ache from earlier worsened.

 “M’fine,” he said softly, not looking at you any more but at the blood on your hand instead. A forced, incredulous laugh made it’s way out of his mouth and it instantly set you on edge. That was not the way he usually laughed. “So kid. Is this better? Am I any easier on the eyes?” he asked and the questions were tinged with a bitterness you’d never heard from him before. 

You didn’t like it at all and the question got your back up almost immediately.

 “Yeah, actually it is,” you answered defensively, eyes narrowing as though daring him to argue with you.

 He laughed that not right laugh again and it was like ice.

 “Is that right? Well. Take a good look,” he said and stepped back, arms splayed wide. The suit that would have usually been stretched across his broad chest, hung on him now. His expression was far from the usual happy go lucky Toshinori that you’d fallen for. He really was full of so much self-loathing that it astonished you. The number one hero, Symbol of Peace and saviour of Japan- hated himself. Really hated- and that twisted your stomach painfully. 

“Is this really what you want in your bed at night?”

 Your face dropped, expression full of pain. But not for you. For him- because he really did believe that he wasn’t good enough in this form. That he was somehow lesser.

 He must have seen the hurt in your eyes because his expression softened all of a sudden and his arms dropped back to his sides. He looked away, ashamed of his outburst.

 “I’m sorry,” he muttered, exhaling tiredly. “I shouldn’t be taking my insecurities out on you. It’s not your fault. I guess this isn’t what you expected after everything, huh?” 

You had been silent for a few moments but that question needed an answer.

 “Yeah.”

 He looked up at you, confused.

 “Yeah?” he parroted.

 “I want you in my bed every fucking night,” you said breathlessly and without giving him any more time to over think, you yanked him forward by his tie. He crashed into you and before he could say anything you were kissing him hard, tangling your fingers in the soft hairs at the base of his neck.

 He only flailed a little bit much to your amusement and eventually his fingers wrapped over your shoulders, finding purchase.

 You only pulled back an inch or so to breathe before crowding him, not giving him a single moment more to be down on himself, or to cast doubt on your very obvious intentions. You wouldn’t hear another bad word about himself come out of his mouth.

The back of his legs hit the couch and he stumbled, landing with a little ‘oomph’ and the adorably dazed expression that you’d kissed onto his face.

 You wasted no time and straddled his thighs, one arm braced on the back of the couch beside his head and the other blissfully free to roam across his chest.

 “You’d never break a promise to a fan, would you Toshi?” you murmured, purposely being vague. He looked confused, his head cocking to the side as he managed to focus on your words instead of the fact that you were in his lap.

 “I made you a promise?”

 “A million orgasms? Remember? I do. It’s all I’ve been thinking about,” you admitted, fingers toying with the knot of his tie. Idly undoing it and then his shirt collar, you ducked your head and trailed a line of kisses across his throat. 

It was true. Every moment, every spare second of every day, that promise had taken up your thoughts- as well as all the ways he could fulfil it. With his hands, his mouth, his cock. You had been a woman possessed.

 Toshi’s hands were almost burning as he slid them up along your back and a delicious shiver raced along your spine.

 “I’m sorry,” he said abruptly and you stopped your assault on his neck, lazily bringing your face up to his. His expression was earnest prompting you to press another kiss to his lips, sweet this time instead of hungry. You knew from his tone that he was being honest, serious. “I’m sorry for- for avoiding you like a coward. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t want you. I did. I do. I just-” he paused, head falling back while his hands came to rest on your hips. “I dunno. I don’t know what to say to you, sweetheart. You could do so much better.”

 “Bullshit,” you said sharply, trying and failing to stop your voice from sounding angry. How could he ever think that? After all the things he’d done? The sacrifices he’d made for others while he kept the world safe? And always, always with a smile.

“You’re a good man Toshinori. If everyone could be a little more like you, then the world would be a fucking awesome place to live.”

 “Thank you but that’s not what I meant. I do appreciate it though,” he said, smiling at you as his hand came up to cup your cheek and he swept a thumb over your cheekbone. “I dunno if you’ve noticed but I’m old kid. Past my prime. You’re…” he trailed off with an almost disbelieving laugh, his eyes roaming over you from where you were seated in his lap, up to your face and back again. 

You flushed under his appreciative gaze, well aware of what he was thinking of when he looked at you like that.

“Younger,” he managed at last. “Gorgeous. Sexy. A million other things. I-”

 He stopped himself, meeting your wide eyed look with an honest one of his own. You had been rendered speechless, the caress of his eyes like he was running his hands over you. He’d never opened up this much and you were drinking it all in- thinking of ways to tell him he was wrong and all the while trying not to preen under his compliments.

 “I’m terrified.”

 Not what you’d been expecting. You blinked stupidly at him for a moment before those unused gears in your head finally began to be useful again.

 “Terrified? Of what?” you asked, confused as all Hell. “Of wanting me? You can’t really think that it’s so out there. Age differences don’t matter to me-”

 “No, not that. Look,” he said, his blush adorably bright as he tackled your questions. You shut up for a moment at last, letting him talk. “I haven’t had someone look at me the way you did last week in- in years.”

 His eyes darted down to his side and you followed his gaze- well aware that he meant since before he’d been injured. Before he’d almost died, was the silent addition and you felt an uncomfortable unease when you thought about him not being here any more.

 You distracted yourself, focusing on the sound of his voice instead and enjoying the soft vibrations you could feel through his shirt.

 “Definitely not when I’m like this. Although, All Might stills gets plenty of attention,” he said with a roll of his eyes, obviously fed up with it all. “I can safely say, no-one has ever shoved my hand down their pants and let me touch them like you did. Not when I look the way I do now.”

 While you were immensely proud of your own confidence the week before, you still couldn’t quite grasp what he was trying to tell you. Shifting in his lap, you leaned into the hand that hadn’t left your cheek.

He gave you a pointed look and suddenly, it clicked.

 “Wait... you’re telling me that you’ve never had sex in this form. Ever,” you deadpanned, disbelief evident in your voice. It was almost unthinkable, to you anyway. But the way he looked at you was proof enough that he wasn’t pulling your leg.

 A wave of cold washed over you as it slowly dawned on you that the first action this big, lovable sweetheart had gotten since he’d been hospitalised had been a quick fumble in the dark with your angry ass. 

The least romantic thing that could ever have happened in the history of fucking humanity- and yeah, you knew that was dramatic but what the fuck!? All of this, with the added bonus of one of his co-workers eavesdropping not ten feet down the hall.

 Shit.

 If you’d have known then… then, you would at least have burned a fucking candle or something. Put up a little mood lighting! Or at least checked to see if anyone was listening.

The knowledge that he probably didn’t even mind your advances and poor planning made you feel even worse. He’d just gone along with it.

 “I did try, you know?” he said uncomfortably after a drawn out moment of you silently freaking out. You reluctantly came back to the room and sucked in a breath, attempting to not look too panicked. This did not sound like it was about to have a happy ending. “After psyching myself up for days I actually got up the courage to go out to a bar like this. I even approached a few women but-” he trailed off, shrugging helplessly.

 “Did it um… go well?” you asked and he laughed, but it was humourless. The same kind of laugh from earlier that had chilled you. He softened though, noticing the look on your face.

“No, kid. It didn’t go well.”

“Oh,” you replied, voice small.

 “I’ve never had a woman look at me like she was, I don’t know. Repulsed, before,” he threw the word out like it meant nothing but fuck, it felt like he’d hit you. The air vanishing from your lungs in an instant. He just tossed words like that around and had no idea how much they affected you. “It’d always been so easy for me but after that night… I just never wanted to feel like I did again. So I didn’t try.”

When he finally looked up at you, he almost jumped, the emotions written clearly on your face.

 You weren’t gonna cry. You were not going to cry. Fuck. Too late.

 Scrubbing at the corners of your eyes, you sniffed hard and turned your head away from his startled expression. You couldn’t look at him, sitting there, so sweet and earnest and lovable. You couldn’t think about it, about him going home alone that night and wondering what was wrong with him.

 Thinking he wasn’t good enough as he was.

 It was too painful.

 “Shit! Are you alright!?” he choked in alarm, ducking his head around until you were forced to look him in the eye. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

 Swallowing back your stupid tears, you nodded and wiped your arm across your face.

 “Those people were fucking morons,” you managed savagely after a moment of silently collecting yourself. That was one of the nicer words that came to mind. You didn’t want to say what you actually thought because you didn’t want to start on a vulgar rant that could last for, easy, an hour.

His smile brightened your mood though.

 “Huh, well,” he laughed all soft and embarrassed like, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. “It’s nice of you to say so- but even if I had gotten further than asking for their numbers... I don’t think it could have gone anywhere. My confidence was just shot. This…” he gripped his side softly, eyes darting down.

 He trailed off, not finishing his sentence but you got the gist of what he wanted to say.

 That scar that haunted him both mentally and physically was hard to forget about. The constant elephant in the room, whether between you and him or him and his career. You couldn’t do anything about that second one but, at least you had a little bit of power over the first.

Ignoring your whirling emotions for a moment, you managed to calm yourself enough to talk properly.

 “Hey, look at me, big guy.”

 You used the nickname you used when he was All Might. Big guy. He always smiled when you called him that- and not that well practised hero smile either. A real smile. The one that made your heart skip a beat.

 Now was no different. The corners of his mouth rose slowly and then he was gracing you with a soft, gorgeous grin that lit up the fucking room.

 You almost forgot what you were going to say. His eyes tentatively met yours and the words came back to you, despite how heavy your tongue felt in your mouth.

 “Toshinori, I know this is hard for you, okay?” you said, swallowing back all the words and emotions that threatened to pour out of you and picking your words carefully instead. “I know you’ve had bad experiences in the past and it might be difficult to trust me... but you’ve known me long enough now to know that I don’t fuck around with things like this. I would never hurt you like that.”

 “Yeah, yeah I know,” he replied lowly, and his forehead fell against yours.

 While he didn’t look entirely convinced, his body did relax somewhat between your legs and he actually tilted forward to kiss you- which sent a little thrill along your spine. You were happy to accept it.

 It became heated quickly, the palm of one of his hands pressing between your shoulders to bring your body closer to his. You arched your back, your stomach and breasts plastered to his front by the time you tore your mouth away to breathe. 

The hard line of his cock pressed up between your legs, giving you a good idea that his body’s needs were far outpacing his reluctant thoughts.

 “You make me so fucking hot, Toshi,” you muttered and he captured your mouth again in another searing kiss, his free hand carding fingers through your hair. It was soothing and you found the tension you’d been holding in your shoulders all day, easing.

 “You sure you’re not trying to kill me?” he replied when he pulled back, his voice hoarse and needy at the same time. You bucked playfully in his lap and tugged at his open shirt collar, bringing his face close to yours.

 “Like I would kill you before I’ve seen you naked,” you pointed out, as though it was obvious.

 Despite the entire conversation up until now and the fact that you were sitting in his lap and raring to get this party started- he still flashed you an uneasy smile at the mere mention of him getting undressed.

 Thankfully, you were more than prepared for this eventuality. You had put a little bit of thought into this other than, ambush him in his office and ride him on the couch.

Although, you got an A for the plan so far. 

 “Hey, look at me,” you soothed reassuringly, lifting his chin with your finger. He did, the corners of his mouth turning down. “Don’t sweat the small stuff. We’ll do this one step at a time and you can stop me whenever you want. I won’t be upset, okay?” 

He nodded, looking at you with fucking hearts in his eyes. You knew your expression was much the same so you could hardly tease him about it.

“I’ll even go first to ah- make you more comfortable,” you shot him a wink, smoothing your hand over his cheek. You knew how self conscious he was but you weren’t about to let that spoil his good time. If he was more comfortable being fully clothed and you being naked, then so fucking be it.

 Besides, the thought made you kind of hot. It was like being called to the principal’s office for being naughty-

Oh. Wow. There was a fantasy that was just waiting to be explored. There was time for all of those things later though. Right now, this was about him.

 Your offer of getting naked didn’t seem to rid him of his nervous tension though. If anything it made it worse. You slid out of his lap all the same, subtly surveying him.

 A gut wrenching rush of heat and wetness spread between your legs when you did.

 All he was doing was sitting there and he was managing to turn you into a needy, aroused mess.

 Granted, he was very, very attractive to you right now- even if he might not think so.

 He was reclined back, his cheeks pink and his hair a mess from where you’d been gripping handfuls of it. His lips were well kissed and his chest was rising and falling rapidly- tie hanging loose around his neck. His legs, all long and lean were falling open and the hard outline of his cock was straining against the fabric, ready to be free.

 Honestly, it was a miracle that you could stand up at all, let alone be moderately sexy while you stripped for him. But by the time you were naked- your panties thrown over your shoulder to land on his desk- he was as equally fucking ruined as you were.

 He’d clenched his hands into fists, his knuckles white and his teeth gritted like he longed to reach out and touch you but wouldn’t do so without permission.

 Feeling oddly confident despite the difference in dress, you stepped between his legs and waited as he trailed his eyes up and over you. 

“You can touch me, ya know,” you reminded him after a moment. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and slowly- oh so fucking slowly- he reached out a hand and rested it lightly on your stomach. His hand was big and his palm hot when he splayed his fingers out and they brushed the undersides of your breasts.

 It was no wonder you’d been a little sore the day after your excursion in the closet. His fingers were long and there had been many times that you’d become hyperfixated on them before now.

 “Is this better?” you asked, voice husky and hopefully sexy.

 He glanced up at you face, giving you a nervous laugh. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said reverently, his gaze wandering in a heated path from your head to your feet- lingering on your breasts and then on the apex of your thighs.

His hand slid to your hip and with a strength that belied his skinny frame, he tugged you back into his lap. You laughed as you stumbled into his embrace but it quickly morphed into a moan when his mouth closed over your nipple.

 His other hand came up to cup your breast, his thumb sweeping a wide circle over the peak and you could do nothing but whimper like an idiot in heat as he lavished attention on you. The sweet pull of his lips, the sharp nip of his teeth and then the soothing stroke with the flat of his tongue had your head swimming while long fingers worked you diligently.

You could feel your arousal threatening to drip along the inside of your thigh, sticky and hot and you wanted him to feel it too.

 On the other hand though, you didn’t particularly want to ruin his suit pants. You’d already made him come in his hero outfit and the dry cleaning for that material was probably expensive as fuck. It was only that vague thought in the back of your head that made brought you back to reality and tug on his hair to get his attention.

 He glanced up at you with a hum of questioning.

 Leaving one last longing kiss between your breasts, he reluctantly pulled away and let you attach your lips to his again. He was deceptively good with his tongue, you thought suddenly. You could hardly wait for him to eat you out.The thought made your thighs quiver in anticipation and it wasn’t abated when his hands slid along the back of them and then up, covering your ass.

 His fingertips dug into the soft flesh, pulling you closer.

 The slow build of confidence you were seeing was addictive. You wanted him to show you just what you’d been missing these past few months. You wanted him to make you scream like you had in that closet and the mere thought of his fingers sliding into your aching pussy made your head light.

 He might not have done anything like this in a few years, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a few tricks up his sleeve either.

 His mouth dipped to your throat and that son of a bitch knew how high you wore your shirts because he stopped just below an invisible line and promptly sucked a dark mark into your skin. Your pussy clenched around nothing longingly and you fisted your hand in his shirt, unable to even protest.

 The thought of being marked by him was simply too arousing.

 “Toshi,” you admonished playfully, pressing a kiss to the side of his head so he knew you weren’t actually mad. He gave a coy laugh, humming against your skin and you felt him smile rather than saw it.

 “Sorry kid,” he rumbled, fingers squeezing your hips now instead of your ass. You kind of missed the grip he’d had on you, keeping you close to his eagerly straining cock. Fuck, you wanted to take him inside you as soon as possible. “I got a little carried away.”

 “You know, you’re going to have to stop calling me kid eventually. Otherwise this might get weird,” you pointed out, trailing your gaze over his flushed face. He gave you a lopsided, sheepish smile and the tips of his ears went pink.

 “Force of habit. You are younger than me, you know.”

 You tutted and rolled your eyes but your half smile gave you away.

 “Come on, Toshi. You act like you’re ancient sometimes. Live a little, old man.”

 He laughed. A genuine, full laugh that had you not knowing whether to cry, kiss him or just ride him until you were both exhausted. Then to your surprise, he wrapped you up in his arms with a playful growl and kissed you.

 Oh yeah, number three was definitely winning.

 Even though you were naked and he wasn’t, you didn’t feel the kind of reluctant embarrassment you might have felt with anyone else. Toshi was the last person who would ever judge you and knowing that bolstered your confidence enough to tug his face up to yours. 

You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth.

 “Wanna know a secret?” you asked, noticing the moment his eyes became entranced by your mouth. He made to move forward- almost not hearing your question- but your hand on his chest made him stop.

 “Huh? You have a secret?” he said and when your smile turned wolfish, his grip tightened where it was already digging into your waist. If it was nerves you weren’t sure but you said nothing about it. 

 “I’ve been thinking about doing this all week. Sneaking into your office and fucking you.”

 “Oh?”

 He might have aimed for nonchalant but he missed by a mile, his voice cracking a little when he swallowed. You watched his Adam’s apple bob and heard the sharp little inhale of breath that hitched in his throat. Your tongue swept over your bottom lip now, keeping his attention on your mouth.

 “Do you remember that day in the teacher’s lounge?”

 The day he’d stood like an awkwardly adorable beanpole in the corner while the principal talked, looking everywhere but at you and then had split before you could even talk to him. He shot you a very apologetic look when he remembered his behaviour but you shut him up before he could say anything about it- your finger trailing across his lips lightly.

 “The whole time, I was thinking about sucking your cock.” He choked out a noise but you hushed him, not quite finished with your story yet. “Just, getting on my knees and taking you into my mouth... Honestly, I was super unprofessional.”

 A giddy little thrill ran through your body at admitting your little secret fantasy. 

 To your surprise, he didn’t pop a blood vessel like you thought he would. Instead, his eyes darkened and slowly, tentatively, he drew the finger that you were tracing over his lips into his mouth. A fresh wave of arousal washed over you at the unexpected, but welcome, turn of events.

 With your other hand, you slowly began to undo the buttons on the front of his shirt.

 Even though his eyes were trained intently on your face, he didn’t protest or ask you to stop- much to your relief. He released your finger with a soft, wet pop and in a bit of a daze, you made quick work of his tie.

 Instead of throwing it to one side, you circled it around your neck and let the soft, smooth material fall between your breasts. His eyes followed it and you were glad to give him something else to focus on other than the slow exposure of his chest and stomach.

 “Does it suit me?” you asked, the tip of your tongue pressing against a sharp canine and your expression scandalous.

 He snorted, unable to stop himself from laughing at your ridiculous expressions.

 “It’s never looked better, that’s for sure,” he said, his hands sweeping up along your sides to press your breasts together around the soft line of the tie. “You’re so fucking pretty,” he muttered, half to himself and half out loud. Then his whole face went beet red when he realised that you had heard him- like you would be mad at him for saying it.

 On the contrary, a rush of affection filled you to the point that you simply had to lean into him and nuzzle a sweet kiss to his mouth. You butted your forehead against his gently, your noses touching.

 Jesus, just how blue were his eyes?

 Button by button, his shirt fell open between you and by the time you were finished looking at him like he was offering you the moon, you could see the barest glimpse of the dark pink, shiny skin peeking out from one side.

 You made sure that you didn’t let your gaze linger for a moment more than necessary.

 Instead, you focused on everything else that you could see.

 You found yourself pleasantly surprised. For a man as skinny as he was- his body was mostly lean, solid muscle. While you could just make out his ribs, the rest of him was nicely built. You trailed a hand along the newly exposed skin, all tan and warm under your touch. You followed a path down between his pectoral muscles and across the still faintly defined six pack that he was sporting.

 When the muscles twitched under your hand, you threw a playful glance at him.

 “You’ve been holding out on me,” you said accusingly, a throaty chuckle slipping out when he looked confused. Exhilaration mixed with adrenaline was making you giddy and before he could say anything remotely bad about himself, you swooped forward and kissed him- pressing your naked form against him and rolling your body into his embrace.

 You wanted him, needed to feel him everywhere. You couldn’t get close enough.

 His arm came up across your back, fingers splaying between your shoulder blades as he held you firmly to his body.

 After a moment of slow, lazy kisses, you coaxed his tongue into your mouth to encourage him to him take the lead. Sure, showering him with compliments and telling him how much you were enjoying yourself was all well and good- but there wouldn’t be anything better for his confidence than letting him take control of the whole thing.

Besides, you were happy to have him set the pace if it meant he was relaxed with you.

 “I want you on top of me,” you murmured and you gasped when his mouth suddenly dipped to the hollow of your throat. His tongue laved a line from there, across your collarbone to where he bit down lightly on your shoulder. “Toshi?”

 Saying his name seemed to finally awaken something in him because you were suddenly scooped up into his embrace and a second later, you found yourself looking up at the ceiling- encased in the lush cushions you’d been admiring earlier. 

They really were as comfortable as you’d thought they’d be.

 You were quickly distracted from you admiration of the furniture by a hard body slotting between your open thighs. He loomed over you, one big hand planted firmly in the cushions beside your head and the other suddenly cupping a handful of your breast.

 It was quickly becoming apparent that Toshinori was a breast man. 

He palmed each one softly, expertly and your nipples pebbled under the ministrations. He cocked his head, eyes fixed on your tits like he wasn’t planning on leaving them alone any time soon.

 He rolled one nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging it gently a few times before moving to the other to give it the same attention.

 You were breathing heavily by the time his fingers slid away from your nipples to the forgotten tie that rested in the valley of your breasts. Well. You’d forgotten about it while he was lavishing attention on you. Clearly he hadn’t.

 While he watched your expression, he deftly tied a knot to secure it around your neck.

 Hnng.

 You went utterly boneless, especially after he gave it a playful tug and it slid ever so slightly tighter around your throat. Sparks ignited in your stomach and flitted down between your thighs, tingling and tightening muscles in their wake.

 Well, that had been unexpected.

 You wanted him to do it again but lacked the diction to actually tell him and a low, eager whine escaped instead of words. He shot you a pleased smile and then sat back onto his knees, his shirt now hanging open to reveal his stomach.

 This time, you made sure that he knew where you were looking as your heated gaze sank downwards, lower and lower- drinking him in.

 The difference in dress must have finally gotten to him, especially the way he was staring at you and suddenly he was undressing, agonisingly slowly with his eyes on yours- and all you could do was lie there, a soaking mess of wordless wonder.

 He took his time with it and even though you knew it was partly because of his insecurities, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was subconsciously teasing you. You certainly felt teased with every new inch of skin revealed.

 His rumpled suit jacket was thrown over the back of the couch carelessly and then he was finally shrugging out of his too big shirt- only sparing a quick, curious glance at your face as he did. His cheeks were still bright pink but he said nothing- letting his actions speak volumes.

 He paused only once when he finally reached his belt buckle but you fixed him with a dark, heated look that spurred him to continue.

 Never had you been so aroused by watching a man strip before.

 Long, clever fingers slowly undid the buckle and the memory of those same fingers driving you to orgasm had your hips bucking involuntarily. His movements slowed as he looked away from what he was doing to your face.

 What a sight he made, you thought idly. Kneeling over you, his pants splaying open at the top and tented under the heaviness of his erection. He followed your gaze, coming to rest where you were looking and then, to your surprise, he palmed a hand over the outline of his cock- almost as though he was showing off.

 You swallowed hard, making a noise of impatience.

 His lips quirked noticeably and he went back to work, tugging off his shoes and socks and then going back to his trousers.

 Finally, he was naked. You sat up, reaching for him to bring him back to you, missing the heat of him on top of you. He followed you, nudging your thighs apart to kneel between them. 

His cock was thick, bobbing softly under it’s own weight and he gripped the base, stroking a slow line up along the shaft and then back again. A silvery bead of pre-cum leaked from the tip as he pulled his foreskin back, dripping down bit by bit until it threatened to fall.

You desperately wanted to catch it on your tongue, take him into your mouth- but this moment was his now. Your control had been handed over. 

 His scar took up a solid chunk of his torso,splashed across what was once smooth, unblemished skin. The wound had clearly been deep- and yeah, you didn’t really know all the details of how he’d gotten it but you could guess that it had been an agonising experience. It didn’t bear thinking about.

 The fact that he was here, that he was alive and warm above you was a testament to how amazing he really was. To have gone through all of that and survived it,come out fighting on the other side… He was astounding.

 “You with me, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice smooth and sweet, hovering hesitantly above you with his cock in one hand and the other gripping your thigh. You met his gaze solidly, a salacious grin splitting your face.

 “I’m right here,” you said softly, shimmying closer and bringing your knees up snugly against his hips. That was an invitation if there ever was one.

 “We can still stop if you want to-” he said, trailing off. You were both naked, inches away from each other and he was still trying to give you one last out. One last opportunity to change your mind.

 Like you would.

 He released his hold on your thigh, his hand cupping across his side and his eyes searching your face, the worry in them palpable. Was this suddenly too much? Were you coming to your senses at last?

Clearly slipping into deep thought had made you look reluctant to continue- in his eyes at least.

 “Don’t you dare,” you warned, your voice playful but laced with an underlying seriousness. “Toshinori, I’ve been getting myself off all week because of you. You don’t think I deserve a little something for all my suffering?” you asked quietly, before dipping your hand between your legs to rub a slow circle around your clit.

 It was a delightful feeling, pleasure igniting as you settled into the familiar touch- only made all the more intense knowing that he could see you doing it. He watched, breath bated and his shoulders tensed as you touched yourself- strokes lazy and unhurried.

 Nipping your lip, you tilted your hips upwards to give him a better view. Your thighs fell apart and you slipped your fingers lower, finding slick wetness and pressing inside.

 A gasp clawed up your throat without you even thinking and you sank two fingers in, practised and confident in your own expertise.

 To your delight, he forgot all of his insecurities for a moment. Long, nimble fingers folded around his cock and he began to stroke himself- all while intensely watching you masturbate for him. His thick moan split the air and it was like music to your ears.

 It was very arousing, watching him jerk off over you. Because of you.

 “Please Toshi,” you said, breathlessly. “I need you.”

 His answer was a filthy, eager groan and without any more thoughts of stopping or worry about what he looked like, he moved forward and pressed the tip of his cock between the swollen lips of your pussy. You jolted, inhaling a sharp, stilted gasp of pleasure at the sudden touch.

 “Please,” you chanted softly. “Please, please, please-”

 “Fuck,” was his choked response, the blunt head of his cock sliding through your wetness and bumping against your clit. He did it again, then again and you quickly realised that he was watching the expressions on your face intently. Once more, to draw another groan out of you and then he was pressing inside- pushing you apart and filling you inch by inch.

 Your thighs trembled around his waist and your head pressed into the couch below when your back arched.

 “Oh, Toshi!” you cried, pleasure racing through you. You were suddenly thankful that you didn’t have to worry about making too much noise. There was nothing holding you back here.

 He was stretching you far more than you’d thought he would and it very quickly toed the line between pleasure and pain. The adage that skinny guys have big dicks was definitely holding true because damn-

 It was almost too much but then he made a noise of absolute bliss and buried his face against your neck, teeth scraping your skin in a playful bite and you relaxed- just enough to feel comfortable taking him in further.

 His breath was scorching and you could feel the silent tension building in his arms- in the hand that was holding your hip up from the couch. He carried on inspite of it, sliding himself into you even further, deeper, making you crazy.

 He watched your face the whole time, drinking in your expressions.

 Eventually, he bottomed out and his pubic bone pressed against you, signalling that he was as deep as he could go.

 Your head span in delight. Toshinori, the man you’d been yearning for for months was currently balls deep in you- his breath catching in his throat and his fingers digging into your hip hard enough to bruise.

 The mere thought was enough to make you clench around him and his hips jerked reflexively. Red flushed across his cheeks as he fought with himself not to do it again.

 You stroked a gentle line down his back, fingertips dancing over his vertebrae one by one. As you went lower, you were constantly interrupted by the smooth skin of multiple scars and you wondered briefly just how many he had.

 But then he grunted softly into your ear and brought your attention back to the here and now.

 A shiver ran through him and you felt it- from your fingers to your pussy.

 “You okay?” you asked, your voice uneven as you tried not to shift your hips too much. Every movement, every sharp breath he took, ground him hard against your clit and you were beginning to throb with the unreleased tension.

 You didn’t want to come too soon. You wanted this to last for as long as it could.

 “Y-yeah… It’s just-” he said as steadily as he could, nuzzling his nose across your cheek as he semi-avoided answering your question. “S’been a while sweetheart. I don’t want to, um-”

 Your eyebrows rose in surprise. Ah, you hadn’t even thought of that.

 Hadn’t he made it perfectly clear that he hadn’t seen any action in a while? It would make sense that he would be a little over sensitive the first time. The thought of him losing control came unbidden and you couldn’t deny that it turned you on. Warmth and something else- something foreign rose in your chest and you cupped his cheek, tugging him down for a lazy, unhurried kiss.

 “Take as long as you need to, baby,” you said, squeezing softly around him and he choked out an embarrassed, almost nervous laugh.

 Whether it was over your not-so-accidental slip of the tongue or the current situation, you didn’t know. Probably a little of both.

 But if he got to call you ‘sweetheart’ and make you all pathetic and needy, then you could return the favour you decided.

 “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” he said, his breath catching when you hitched your legs higher again over his hips. You grinned up at him, circling your arms around his neck and stroking your fingers through his hair.

 “Believe me, Toshi. I’m far from uncomfortable… I like having you inside me,” you murmured, peppering little kisses down, from his bottom lip to his chin, and then to his sharp jawline. He slid his hand up along your side, sighing almost contentedly against your hair. “Feel so full. So good,” you continued, nipping at him teasingly.

 “Y-yeah?” he said.

 “Fuck yes Toshinori,” you sighed a pleased, longing sound and rose your hips a little to make sure he was as deep as possible.

 Having him resting inside you, all hot and hard was doing things to your head. Your inner muscles flitted and spasmed around him, relishing the stretch and while you could hardly wait for him to move- simply having this, being with him like this… it was so much more than you’d ever dreamed about.

 Far better than your wild fantasies of destructive fucking and hot rendezvous. Those were great, yeah and you had no doubt that you would get him there eventually… but this…

 Oh. This.

 It was real and he was here in your arms, looking at you with an expression akin to adoration. Giving him the confidence he deserved to have was more than you could have asked for. He nuzzled you again, stroking your hair away from your face and then pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

 You giggled, a noise that you would never have made in a thousand years in public. But it made him grin, all big and happy and then he moved his hips and your world went quiet- soft and hot and spinning all at the same time.

 It was just the two of you, here in this office- in this little bubble that reminded you of the week before. His forehead was pressed against yours and his fingers were roaming across your skin with an impassioned eagerness- thumbing over your nipples and then sliding between your bodies to rub circles against your clit.

 His hips snapped suddenly against yours and it drove him home inside you. You arched up, pressing your slick stomach against his. You could feel the rough texture of his scar against you and when you opened your mouth to suck in a shaky breath, he found it with his and stopped you in your tracks.

 He found a good rhythm fairly quickly, breathy sighs escaping him with every roll of his body into yours.

 It had already been a warm day and was even warmer in the office, and sweat beaded on his forehead.

 Your hands found purchase wherever they could and eventually, one drifted up along his injured side without you even thinking. He didn’t stop his thrusts but they did slow, his steady rhythm faltering a little bit. You realised what you were doing and your eyes found his, arm suddenly tense. You didn’t want to move your hand- wanted to feel all of him, every part.

 You never wanted him to feel repulsive again. Ever.

 However, Toshi said nothing.

 Instead, his eyes bore into yours with a deep, bone shattering intensity. Fuck that was hot. He didn’t take his gaze away from yours for a second and it was like you were in a trance as he reeled back slowly- oh so fucking slowly- before slamming back into you.

 The sudden force of the thrust rattled your brain and it also tore a frantic, strangled sound from your throat.

 Pleasure rocketed through your body and when he did it again, you knew to expect it and rolled with him, timing it so you met him halfway. He grunted, his jaw going slack and his eyes squeezing shut as he concentrated on the pleasure he was taking from your body.

 Your name fell from his lips and hit you like warm summer rain on your skin. You answered with a cry and a garbled mess of pleading- begging him to take you harder, take you faster, love you, fuck you- please, please-

 “Baby, please,” you sobbed as he switched to shallow, half halting thrusts. He barely pulled out at all with every stroke and it seemed as though he suddenly wanted to be as close to you as possible.

 You only just managed to register what happened next.

 Warmth engulfed the hand that you’d kept on his ruined side and you eventually managed to break through the haze of pleasure in a moment of lucidity, glancing down.

 Your heart skipped a beat in your chest, then regained it’s pace and thundered hard against your rib cage.

 Toshi’s big hand covered yours, pressing your palm against the one thing that made him the most vulnerable. It was an incredible show of trust from him and you lunged upwards with your free hand, pulling him into a frenzied, hot kiss- almost letting out a sob into his mouth.

 He moaned and your tongue met his, replying with a choked, needy groan of your own.

 “Perfect, you’re perfect baby-” you said hurriedly, feeling the winding, throbbing tension in your groin building to a release.

 His hips stuttered as you spoke and you knew that as much as he was trying to hold back his climax, he wasn’t going to last much longer. You wanted to see him come. Wanted to see the desperate, sweet pleasure in his expression that you’d caused him.

 As though he’d read your mind, he glanced down between you to the sight of him sliding in and out of you, then back to your face.

 “You haven’t-” he choked, clearly realising what you were trying to do. You squeezed hard around his cock again and his next sentence cut off midway with an almost agonised moan. “Fuck, you, you haven’t come yet.”

 “I will,” you murmured reassuringly, already nearing the peak. You needed to see him. “I will, I promise. I wanna see you come Toshi,” you pleaded, one hand stroking his side gently and the other tangled in his hair to keep his face close to yours. He looked like he was going to argue some more but you kissed him hard, all tongue and teeth and his whine was music to your ears.

 His pace turned frantic as he did as you wanted, chasing his orgasm with a fury.

 His hips slapped against your ass and you could feel your arousal dripping out of you, covering you both and making every thrust sound slick and wet. Obscene noises filled the little office and the heat drove you both onwards- a writhing mess on the couch.

 He tensed suddenly and a long line of expletives mixed with your name, turned the air blue.

 Toshi came hard and the look of sweet ecstasy on his face was glorious.

 His body shuddered, throwing his hips forward in small, shaky movements as he came inside you. Wet warmth spread between your legs and that, coupled with the grinding against your clit was enough to send you where you wanted to go.

 Your orgasm rose in easy, pulsing waves like water breaking on the rocks and he kept up the soft circles on your clit all the while- guiding you through it. Your inner muscles fluttered around him and he huffed out a laboured breath, his arm shaking under the weight of keeping him upright.

 As your orgasm slowly receded, you relaxed backwards and released a breath you hadn’t even realised you were holding. Cheeks red and hair a mess, Toshi stared at you the whole time- his expression gravitating between satisfaction and disbelief.

 “You okay?” you asked, knowing full well that he was hovering between both yes and no. Now that the haze of lust was gently dispersing, the fact that he was naked and very much exposed to you was probably creeping back up on him. “Hey, look at me Toshinori.”

 When he did as you asked and his eyes met yours, you flashed him a sly grin and tugged him down to lay on you. His arm gave out and he landed on you with a startled noise. Laughter bubbled out of you at his surprised expression but it quickly turned to one of fond affection instead, when he realised that neither of you were freaking out.

 He wasn’t as heavy as you’d thought he would be and his body fit nicely against yours.

 You could feel come dribbling out of you and down to the couch below, his softening cock still very much inside you. Neither of you had the energy to do anything about it though which, hey, was a real shame because this couch should honestly be in a fucking hall of fame somewhere. At least, in your opinion.

 Presenting it to said museum might pose a bit of a problem.

 After a long moment, filled with gentle touches and kisses, he finally spoke, rising up on his elbows to come face to face with you.

 “Hey.”

 You were pretty sure you looked like a mess- having just been royally fucked on a couch in the middle of the summer heat. But the way he looked at you made you feel like a movie star or some shit. His eyes sparkled with something unspoken but pleasant and you couldn’t stop the giddy smile that broke across your face.

 “Hi,” you managed to say at last, stroking his hair away from his forehead. “So um… are you gonna thank Hizashi after this? Because you probably should.”

 His laugh was loud, energetic and happy. He laughed like he used to and it drew all sorts of emotions that you’d been holding back to the surface. You blinked hard, feeling tears forming in the corners of your eyes when you did. Damn, stupid emotions, you thought bluntly.

 So you buried your face into his neck before he could see your tears. You didn’t want him thinking that he’d done something wrong and you didn’t want to explain why you were crying like an asshole after really great sex.

 “I’ll send him a card,” he chuckled, hugging you close to him and that just made the tears come harder than before- but you curled closer and discreetly wiped your eyes. His hand swept up along your side and you both lay quietly for a moment, you collecting yourself and him basking in the blissful afterglow.

 It took you a minute to get your emotions in check but you did eventually and soon, it was becoming far too warm laying underneath him. As reluctant as you were to move, you nudged him and he took the hint- slipping out of you at last and rolling to the side.

 You shifted, pillowing your head on your arm. It was, thankfully, an easy task being face to face with him while you were both horizontal. He grinned, mirroring your pose and for a few moments you both lay like that- his free hand tracing lazy circles against the softness of your stomach.

 In the warmth of the room and the heat from his body, it would have been easy to drift into a dozy sleep but you resisted the pull of exhaustion.

 Instead, you trailed a finger across his scar, finally taking the time to look at it properly. He tensed more out of habit than anything else, but said nothing to stop you as you explored. You were almost fascinated by the pattern it made. Like a sunflower burned into his skin.

 “I would punch them,” you said finally, looking back to his face and finding his expression light and almost pleased.

 His eyebrow quirked in curiosity, a half smile forming on his lips.

 “Punch them? Who?”

 “The person who did that to you. I would punch them. So fucking hard,” you said firmly, with a conviction you didn’t know you possessed. His expression softened and his gaze dipped to your lips as though he wanted to kiss you. Then, he remembered that he was technically allowed to kiss you and so he did, dipping forward to find your lips- languid and hot.

 “No need to, kid,” he said when he pulled away. “I already did.” Pride tinged his voice when said that. “Besides. I would never let him get close enough to you to punch. Never.”

 He gave you a stern look but it didn’t hold much weight seeing as his hair was sticking up in every direction and you were both still very naked. It was difficult to pull off serious when you were naked. True facts. Sliding your thigh between his legs, you watched his expression change from serious to amused when you waggled your eyebrows at him.

 “Heh, you liiiiike me,” you singsonged childishly and he snorted, rolling his eyes as though he could deny it. “C’mon Toshi,” you jabbed him lightly in his uninjured side and he jerked, choking out a laugh. He was ticklish it seemed. “Admit it. You wanna kiiiiiss me-”

 You were abruptly and very rudely, in your opinion, cut off when he did just that. But you were both smiling too hard for it to be a proper kiss- simply giggling and laughing against each others mouths.

 Your teasing had clearly lightened his mood even more and honestly, if you could make him look like this every day for the rest of your lives, you’d happily do it. In the back of your mind, you wondered if he’d like that too.

 You hummed a pleased sound, butterflies erupting in your stomach.

 “Yeah, I guess I do,” he said. He didn’t elaborate which part he was talking about, but you didn’t mind.

 Either one was good for you.

[aricazorel]

10. An alternate ending to an episode or scene?

Thank you for the ask! Sorry it took me a while to get to it...

This is from a meme about things you might have done differently from a movie/series/video game you like. I can't find the original meme because my timeline ate it but anyway...

This is for Mass Effect 1. Kaidan Alenko x Rebecca Shepard. 2933 words. The scene is the part of the debriefing after the Virmire mission if you choose to save Kaidan. I don't necessarily like the dialogue choices during the debrief or the conversation you can have right after. To me it didn't deal with the consequences of the choice made on Virmire very well, especially if Kaidan and Shepard were together. Here's my version:

"Why me?"

“I can’t believe Ash didn’t make. How could we just leave her down there?” Kaidan said in quiet shock during the debriefing after the Virmire mission. His words giving voice to everyone’s thoughts. While a success, that victory had come with a price. A high price.

“Williams knew the risks going in. She gave her life to save the rest of us,” Commander Rebecca Shepard said evenly, honestly. The Lt. knew what she said was true. They all did, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear.

“Why me?” Alenko pushed, his expression one of incomprehension. Everyone knew the bomb would have gone off regardless of whether he had been saved or not. No one had questions the command decision Shepard had made on Virmire. Everyone knew the stakes and supported the call that had been made, placing no blame on their commanding officer.

“We had to leave her behind. Saren has to be stopped. At anycost,” Shepard explained, pushing aside her own regret and guilt to help her Lt. deal with his own.

“Why not her?” he asked with soulful eyes. The very eyes she had come to know so well. The ones she looked to for reassurance and sometimes guidance. Something she had never done before with anyone, not since becoming an N7. Now they looked for a reason for the outcome of the mission, someone or something to blame.

“There was no time. I couldn’t save you both.” She admitted the awful truth in a quieter tone, knowing full well the rest of the group could still hear her. This wasn’t a conversation they should have in front of others, but he needed something, and she couldn’t deny him that. “I’m sorry, Kaidan. I wish there had been another way. But there wasn’t. You know that.”

“I know. And I am grateful,” Kaidan replied, his expression softening. That did not stop him from stating the exact cause of her own guilt whether it was true or not. “But Ash died because of me. Because of us.”

“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t my fault,” the Commander stated firmly, in her most even command voice. Willing herself, Kaidan, and everyone else in the room to believe it. Hoping simply saying it was enough. “The only one to blame here is Saren.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m—We’ll get it done.” Kaidan resumed his professional demeanor as he swiveled in his chair back to the center of the room. It was typical Alenko behavior and totally appropriate for what they had just gone through. The minor outburst however was not characteristic of the Lt. and she was sure he would insist on forgetting about it later. Maybe even apologize for it. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t unwarranted.

The rest of the debrief proceeded as all the others had except for the somber mood and the empty chair beside Kaidan. Everyone filed out of the room when it concluded except Shepard who walked over to the consoles to update the Council on current events. As she did, the N7 noted Alenko waiting near the door as she punched up the comm channel for the Council. She turned just enough to see his face, his expression stoic. But his whiskey-colored eyes longing for something. What that was she wasn’t sure and until the next part of her job was completed…

She nodded at him even though he appeared to want to say something. She turned from him before he could as the Council appeared before her. Whatever he wanted to say would have to wait. It always had to wait…

~ ~ ~

After the praise and reprimand from the Council, Shepard checked in with Pressley before descending to the crew deck, fully intending to retreat to her quarters. Of course, that had been before she’d seen Kaidan checking over the auxiliary ops panel right beside the door to her quarters. She had suspected for a long time that he checked the panel more than necessary so that he’d have a legitimate excuse to catch her attention and talk to her. Normally she did not mind it. In fact, she enjoyed their impromptu conversations. She enjoyed being around him period but right then…

The Commander paused a few feet from her quarters, staring at the dark colored metal of the doors. She closed her eyes. She could avoid it. Call everything off. No longer acknowledge the growing relationship between himself and the Lt. After Virmire she should but…

The memory of pleading whiskey brown eyes flashed in her mind. Damn it. She couldn’t leave it the way things were. He deserved more. Ash deserved more.

She opened her eyes and walked the few steps required to reach the console…and Kaidan. She stood silently beside it, waiting for him to say something. She didn’t trust herself to start the conversation, waiting to know his state of mind first.

She watched him take a breath and then wipe his brow. He slowly turned towards her as he asked, “Anything you need, Commander?”

His tone was formal, just like it had been at the beginning of their mission. Fine. She could start out that way, though she knew that’s not how this would end. But she needed to be straight with him. For both of them. For Ashley. “I wanted to see how you are dealing with Ash’s death.”

“Dealing…ma’am,” Alenko replied slowly. His tone even, professional still. Maintaining eye contact. All the signs of a good officer. But that wasn’t what she wanted but maybe that’s what he did. “Sorry for anything I said back there. Adrenaline.”

She nodded. She had expected him to apologize, to downplay what had occurred. She doubted anyone else would actually mention it either. Everything was still too fresh but this—the guilt and blame needed to be addressed before anything else happened. Before it adversely affected the mission. Before it came between them…if there was a them. “I understand. I don’t like losing people either.”

“I’ve served for years but never lost a soldier under my command. Not to hostile action anyway,” Alenko admitted. Even though he had not been directly in charge of the mission, he still outranked Ashley. He had survived while a subordinate hadn’t either because of luck or personal relations. Maybe both.

Regardless the personal question the Lt. asked next was not the one she had anticipated. “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you deal with the loses on Elysium?”

It wasn’t what she wanted to talk about. It wasn’t what would help her deal with Ash’s death. Not really, but maybe it would help him. If that was the case, she would indulge his question. “It was my job to get everyone out safe. I failed. I vowed not to let that happen again. Same here. I’ll remember her, and I’ll do better for her.”

“Yeah. I guess that is all we can do. Thanks for the advice, ma’am.” He responded with respect and professionalism. She expected no less from the Lt. she had come to know and rely on. What bothered her was the fact he wasn’t questioning her further about why she had made the call. Sure. What she had said back in the conference room made sense and was true but didn’t he want to know more?

She had come to accept that Kaidan kept his emotions in check partially because he saw it as being professional. But more importantly it helped ensure his biotics remained in check. But would this really cause him to lose control?

When she didn’t move to leave, he asked, “Is there something else, Commander?”

She frowned. “Yes. I thought you might need to talk to me.”

“Isn’t that what we just did?” he asked, his tone almost sounding flippant. Maybe he was trying to lighten the mood, maybe he was trying to act normal. Either way she wasn’t buying it.

“Kaidan, that’s not what I meant,” she said as evenly as possible, dropping rank and protocol. Maybe she needed to confront what had happened more for her benefit instead of his. But that didn’t mean it wouldn’t help him too.

“Then what did you mean, Commander?” the Canadian officer asked as he crossed his arms, his stance becoming silently defensive. His whiskey-colored eyes boring into her, not pleading with her like before.

He had apologized for the outburst. He had accepted her explanation to his questions. He said he understood that it was Saren to blame and not either of them. He had thanked her for sharing how she had coped with Elysium. He remained calm, rational, professional. Yet in that moment that was not what she needed.

Maybe she needed someone to feel the way she did. To question her. To not just accept her decision. To acknowledge that she had lost a friend too…

The great Commander Shepard needed more than just the acknowledgement of her subordinates, a pat on the back from her superiors, the thanks of the masses for doing her duty. Rebecca Shepard needed to know that she hadn’t crossed a line. That she hadn’t sacrificed a good soldier, a friend for selfish reasons. That she wasn’t turning into the monster she was supposed to fight.

Her confidence faltering as her Lt.’s eyes continued to bore into her, she began turning away. “I—Forget it, Kaidan. I—I won’t take up anymore of your time.”

The Commander façade she wore for others, for her own sanity sometimes, was fading quickly. She couldn’t let anyone see the cracks, to chance someone seeing what laid beneath. That she was not what everyone thought she was. She couldn’t let Kaidan see that part of her, not when he might actually blame her for Ash’s death.

Maybe she was to blame. Maybe she had been selfish. Maybe there had been a way to save Ash or a way to save them both. If she had only tried harder, if she had been quicker, smarter, more determined—

“Commander?” Alenko’s voice called out to her as she faced the door to her cabin. Was that concern she heard?

It didn’t matter. She was responsible for those under her command, and she’d just lost one more. A friend, and she wasn’t sure if it had been because of her personal relationship with a subordinate.

“I—I should leave you to—I have reports to file—I—”

“Rebecca.”

Her name. Her given name. The utterance of it was like a slap in the face. She wasn’t Rebecca to anyone on the Normandy. She was the Commander or Shepard. Only one person had called her that…

Her head turned of its own volition to the source of the voice. Whiskey brown eyes no longer bored into her. Instead, they studied her with concern and worry. She shook her head. “I can’t.”

She rushed into her quarters without further explanation. As the doors shut behind her, she stood in the middle of her room. The emotions from the Virmire mission breaking through the carefully constructed barriers she had erected. Very few times since becoming an N7 had she had those walls break but this time…This time was different. She was solely in charge of the mission, her own crew, her friends, her enemy. If Saren won, if she allowed the loses Saren inflicted on them to wear her down then it would all be for nothing.

Ash’s death would be for nothing. But did she have to die? Had it been a needed sacrifice? Was it the right choice? Was choosing who lived and died ever a right choice? He was right to blame her. It was all on her. She was the Commander. That’s all she was—

“Rebecca,” an all too familiar voice called from behind her as the doors to her cabin hissed shut.

She closed her eyes. He wasn’t supposed to be there. It was her fault. He blamed her.

“Rebecca, talk to me.”

“No.” How had he gotten in? Had he actually used the door code she’d given him? It would have been the first time then…

“Please talk to me. I’m—”

Shepard turned around, glaring at him. “How can you want to talk to me? I’m responsible for what happened! For what—For what happened to Ash! I—”

“That’s not what you said in the briefing,” Alenko said, taking a step towards her. He stood with his arms spread wide, showing he was not a threat. “You said Saren was to blame.”

“Of course I did!,” she all but screamed. “The bastard is responsible but so am I! I’m the one in command. I made the command decision that killed Ash!”

“The Geth killed Ash not you,” Alenko corrected as he bridged the remaining space between them. “Ashley would not want you to do this to yourself.”

“What does it matter? She’s gone, and she’d not coming back. What difference does it make? Why do you care?”

“Because I care about you! Because you aren’t to blame! Because you aren’t alone!” he said loudly, nearly nose to nose with her.

Shepard didn’t flinch. Instead, she stared blankly at him, saying barely above a whisper, “I’m always alone. I have to be…”

Strong arms suddenly grabbed her and pulled her into a tight embrace. A hand cradled her head as the other rested securely around her waist. A quiet voice murmured into her ear, “You are not alone. Not anymore.”

She wanted to protest, to tell him he was wrong, to order him to leave but no words came out. Instead, she went limp against him, relying totally on his strength for support. Kaidan accepted her dead weight without complaint as she began crying, her sobs muffled by his shoulder.

As Alenko held onto her tighter, he said with raw emotion, “You aren’t to blame. You were right. Saren is responsible. Ash knew what could happen. We all did. She went out the way she wanted to. With honor. Saving those she served with. Saving those she called friend…We didn’t kill her.”

Shepard threw her arms around Alenko as he sunk to the floor with her, both resting on their knees as she shook her head. “I tried…I tried to think of something. Anything. I didn’t want her to die…I—”

“I know, Rebecca. I believe you,” the Lt. soothed as he ran his hand through her red hair. “She trusted you to make the right call and you did. Remember? She said she didn’t regret a thing. You can’t either.”

She pulled at the back of his shirt as she fisted the material. “How can you believe that? I’m the Commander and she died on my watch.”

Kaidan pulled back just enough to see her face. He smiled down at her tenderly. “Because I know that you are more than the Commander. I know that you are human just like the rest of us. And I know you feel her death just like the rest of us.”

“But why—”

“Because I know the woman behind the Commander,” he said gently as he cupped her cheek. “I know Rebecca.”

“Kaidan,” was all the N7 could say as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. He didn’t blame her after all. He understood what she was going through. He didn’t see her as just a soldier or commander or CO. He recognized that she was human too. That she felt the weight of every decision she made and its consequences—good or bad.

“I’m right here, Rebecca,” he soothed as he moved them to sit on the deck plates. “And I’ll stay as long as you need me to.”

She held onto his shirt tightly, refusing to give up her anchor. She knew he would stay. He would always do the right thing, say the right thing, be the good man that he was. He wouldn’t judge her because of the actions of another. He understood both the burden of command and the human emotions beneath.

He understood her.

Drawing strength from Kaidan, she knew nothing could bring Ashely back. At the same time a part of her recognized that the words he had repeated back to her were also true. Neither of them was to blame and if she had made a different decision more people may have perished.

They would do better next time. They would do better for Ash. They would end Saren, and she would make sure the galaxy knew a Williams had made that victory possible. Ashley did not die in vain. She was a hero and a friend.

And for those reasons, Rebecca Shepard would continue to fight the good fight with the continued support of those she had come to call more than comrades in arms. Those that she called friends.

Why me he had asked. But it wasn’t just a question he asked in that the one instance. It was a question she asked herself every day. Even with the knowledge that Kaidan knew the real Shepard and that Ashely both knew and accepted her fate, the question remained.

Why me?

And the answer was always the same.

Because she was the only who could. But this time it would be with the knowledge she had people who believed in her not just because she was bound by duty.

Kaidan believed in her.

Ash had believed in her.

Why me?

Because she wanted to, she had a personal stake in it now. Not just because she could.

Why me?

Because she chose to. To honor those lost. To honor Ash.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

20 years a blogger

It's been twenty years, to the day, since I published my first blog-post.

I'm a blogger.

Blogging - publicly breaking down the things that seem significant, then synthesizing them in longer pieces - is the defining activity of my days.

https://boingboing.net/2001/01/13/hey-mark-made-me-a.html

Over the years, I've been lauded, threatened, sued (more than once). I've met many people who read my work and have made connections with many more whose work  I wrote about. Combing through my old posts every morning is a journey through my intellectual development.

It's been almost exactly a year I left Boing Boing, after 19 years. It wasn't planned, and it wasn't fun, but it was definitely time. I still own a chunk of the business and wish them well. But after 19 years, it was time for a change.

A few weeks after I quit Boing Boing, I started a solo project. It's called Pluralistic: it's a blog that is published simultaneously on Twitter, Mastodon, Tumblr, a newsletter and the web. It's got no tracking or ads. Here's the very first edition:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/02/19/pluralist-19-feb-2020/

I don't often do "process posts" but this merits it. Here's how I built Pluralistic and here's how it works today, after nearly a year.

I get up at 5AM and make coffee. Then I sit down on the sofa and open a huge tab-group, and scroll through my RSS feeds using Newsblur.

I spend the next 1-2 hours winnowing through all the stuff that seems important. I have a chronic pain problem and I really shouldn't sit on the sofa for more than 10 minutes, so I use a timer and get up every 10 minutes and do one minute of physio.

After a couple hours, I'm left with 3-4 tabs that I want to write articles about that day. When I started writing Pluralistic, I had a text file on my desktop with some blank HTML I'd tinkered with to generate a layout; now I have an XML file (more on that later).

First I go through these tabs and think up metadata tags I want to use for each; I type these into the template using my text-editor (gedit), like this:

   <xtags>

process, blogging, pluralistic, recursion, navel-gazing

   </xtags>

Each post has its own little template. It needs an anchor tag (for this post, that's "hfbd"), a title ("20 years a blogger") and a slug ("Reflections on a lifetime of reflecting"). I fill these in for each post.

Then I come up with a graphic for each post: I've got a giant folder of public domain clip-art, and I'm good at using all the search tools for open-licensed art: the Library of Congress, Wikimedia, Creative Commons, Flickr Commons, and, ofc, Google Image Search.

I am neither an artist nor a shooper, but I've been editing clip art since I created pixel-art versions of the Frankie Goes to Hollywood glyphs using Bannermaker for the Apple //c in 1985 and printed them out on enough fan-fold paper to form a border around my bedroom.

As I create the graphics, I pre-compose Creative Commons attribution strings to go in the post; there's two versions, one for the blog/newsletter and one for Mastodon/Twitter/Tumblr. I compose these manually.

Here's a recent one:

Blog/Newsletter:

(<i>Image: <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:QAnon_in_red_shirt_(48555421111).jpg">Marc Nozell</a>, <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en">CC BY</a>, modified</i>)

Twitter/Masto/Tumblr:

Image: Marc Nozell (modified)

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:QAnon_in_red_shirt_(48555421111).jpg

CC BY

https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

This is purely manual work, but I've been composing these CC attribution strings since CC launched in 2003, and they're just muscle-memory now. Reflex.

These attribution strings, as well as anything else I'll need to go from Twitter to the web (for example, the names of people whose Twitter handles I use in posts, or images I drop in, go into the text file). Here's how the post looks at this point in the composition.

<hr>

<a name="hfbd"></a>

<img src="https://craphound.com/images/20yrs.jpg">

<h1>20 years a blogger</h1><xtagline>Reflections on a lifetime of reflecting.</xtagline>

<img src="https://craphound.com/images/frnklogo.jpg">

See that <img> tag in there for frnklogo.jpg? I snuck that in while I was composing this in Twitter. When I locate an image on the web I want to use in a post, I save it to a dir on my desktop that syncs every 60 seconds to the /images/ dir on my webserver.

As I save it, I copy the filename to my clipboard, flip over to gedit, and type in the <img> tag, pasting the filename. I've typed <img src="https://craphound.com/images/ CTRL-V"> tens of thousands of times - muscle memory.

Once the thread is complete, I copy each tweet back into gedit, tabbing back and forth, replacing Twitter handles and hashtags with non-Twitter versions, changing the ALL CAPS EMPHASIS to the extra-character-consuming *asterisk-bracketed emphasis*.

My composition is greatly aided both 20 years' worth of mnemonic slurry of semi-remembered posts and the ability to search memex.craphound.com (the site where I've mirrored all my Boing Boing posts) easily.

A huge, searchable database of decades of thoughts really simplifies the process of synthesis.

Next I port the posts to other media. I copy the headline and paste it into a new Tumblr compose tab, then import the image and tag the post "pluralistic."

Then I paste the text of the post into Tumblr and manually select, cut, and re-paste every URL in the post (because Tumblr's automatic URL-to-clickable-link tool's been broken for 10+ months).

Next I past the whole post into a Mastodon compose field. Working by trial and error, I cut it down to <500 characters, breaking at a para-break and putting the rest on my clipboard. I post, reply, and add the next item in the thread until it's all done.

*Then* I hit publish on my Twitter thread. Composing in Twitter is the most unforgiving medium I've ever worked in. You have to keep each stanza below 280 chars. You can't save a thread as a draft, so as you edit it, you have to pray your browser doesn't crash.

And once you hit publish, you can't edit it. Forever. So you want to publish Twitter threads LAST, because the process of mirroring them to Tumblr and Mastodon reveals typos and mistakes (but there's no way to save the thread while you work!).

Now I create a draft Wordpress post on pluralistic.net, and create a custom slug for the page (today's is "two-decades"). Saving the draft generates the URL for the page, which I add to the XML file.

Once all the day's posts are done, I make sure to credit all my sources in another part of that master XML file, and then I flip to the command line and run a bunch of python scripts that do MAGIC: formatting the master file as a newsletter, a blog post, and a master thread.

Those python scripts saved my ASS. For the first two months of Pluralistic, i did all the reformatting by hand. It was a lot of search-replace (I used a checklist) and I ALWAYS screwed it up and had to debug, sometimes taking hours.

Then, out of the blue, a reader - Loren Kohnfelder - wrote to me to point out bugs in the site's RSS. He offered to help with text automation and we embarked on a month of intensive back-and-forth as he wrote a custom suite for me.

Those programs take my XML file and spit out all the files I need to publish my site, newsletter and master thread (which I pin to my profile). They've saved me more time than I can say. I probably couldn't kept this up without Loren's generous help (thank you, Loren!).

I open up the output from the scripts in gedit. I paste the blog post into the Wordpress draft and copy-paste the metadata tags into WP's "tags" field. I preview the post, tweak as necessary, and publish.

(And now I write this, I realize I forgot to mention that while I'm doing the graphics, I also create a square header image that makes a grid-collage out of the day's post images, using the Gimp's "alignment" tool)

(because I'm composing this in Twitter, it would be a LOT of work to insert that information further up in the post, where it would make sense to have it - see what I mean about an unforgiving medium?)

(While I'm on the subject: putting the "add tweet to thread" and "publish the whole thread" buttons next to each other is a cruel joke that has caused me to repeatedly publish before I was done, and deleting a thread after you publish it is a nightmare)

Now I paste the newsletter file into a new mail message, address it to my Mailman server, and create a custom subject for the day, send it, open the Mailman admin interface in a browser, and approve the message.

Now it's time to create that anthology post you can see pinned to my Mastodon and Twitter accounts. Loren's script uses a template to produce all the tweets for the day, but it's not easy to get that pre-written thread into Twitter and Mastodon.

Part of the problem is that each day's Twitter master thread has a tweet with a link to the day's Mastodon master thread ("Are you trying to wean yourself off Big Tech? Follow these threads on the #fediverse at @pluralistic@mamot.fr. Here's today's edition: LINK").

So the first order of business is to create the Mastodon thread, pin it, copy the link to it, and paste it into the template for the Twitter thread, then create and pin the Twitter thread.

Now it's time to get ready for tomorrow. I open up the master XML template file and overwrite my daily working file with its contents. I edit the file's header with tomorrow's date, trim away any "Upcoming appearances" that have gone by, etc.

Then I compose tomorrow's retrospective links. I open tabs for this day a year ago, 5 years ago, 10 years ago, 15 years ago, and (now) 20 years ago:

http://memex.craphound.com/2020/01/14

http://memex.craphound.com/2016/01/14

http://memex.craphound.com/2011/01/14

http://memex.craphound.com/2006/01/14

http://memex.craphound.com/2001/01/14

I go through each day, and open anything I want to republish in its own tab, then open the OP link in the next tab (finding it in the @internetarchive if necessary). Then I copy my original headline and the link to the article into tomorrow's XML file, like so:

#10yrsago Disney World’s awful Tiki Room catches fire <a href="https://thedisneyblog.com/2011/01/12/fire-reported-at-magic-kingdom-tiki-room/">https://thedisneyblog.com/2011/01/12/fire-reported-at-magic-kingdom-tiki-room/</a>

And NOW my day is done.

So, why do I do all this?

First and foremost, I do it for ME. The memex I've created by thinking about and then describing every interesting thing I've encountered is hugely important for how I understand the world. It's the raw material of every novel, article, story and speech I write.

And I do it for the causes I believe in. There's stuff in this world I want to change for the better. Explaining what I think is wrong, and how it can be improved, is the best way I know for nudging it in a direction I want to see it move.

The more people I reach, the more it moves.

When I left Boing Boing, I lost access to a freestanding way of communicating. Though I had popular Twitter and Tumblr accounts, they are at the mercy of giant companies with itchy banhammers and arbitrary moderation policies.

I'd long been a fan of the POSSE - Post Own Site, Share Everywhere - ethic, the idea that your work lives on platforms you control, but that it travels to meet your readers wherever they are.

Pluralistic posts start out as Twitter threads because that's the most constrained medium I work in, but their permalinks (each with multiple hidden messages in their slugs) are anchored to a server I control.

When my threads get popular, I make a point of appending the pluralistic.net permalink to them.

When I started blogging, 20 years ago, blogger.com had few amenities. None of the familiar utilities of today's media came with the package.

Back then, I'd manually create my headlines with <h2> tags. I'd manually create discussion links for each post on Quicktopic. I'd manually paste each post into a Yahoo Groups email. All the guff I do today to publish Pluralistic is, in some way, nothing new.

20 years in, blogging is still a curious mix of both technical, literary and graphic bodgery, with each day's work demanding the kind of technical minutuae we were told would disappear with WYSIWYG desktop publishing.

I grew up in the back-rooms of print shops where my dad and his friends published radical newspapers, laying out editions with a razor-blade and rubber cement on a light table. Today, I spend hours slicing up ASCII with a cursor.

I go through my old posts every day. I know that much - most? - of them are not for the ages. But some of them are good. Some, I think, are great. They define who I am. They're my outboard brain.

[huearmy]

Alley Cat.

Summary: You have been living in the streets since always, poor and free cat. Namjoon is a house dog who call his owners Mom and Dad. And you two love each other in all the purest and sincere love. You just believe he is the best thing ever happened to you, and all he dreams of is to protect  you from the terrible things the stray life can bring. The solutions, for him, is obvious: you join his family.

Pairing: dog!Namjoon x cat!Reader

Genre: FLUFF, angst ops I did it again 

Words:  11k +.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: None I think.

Your hips sway from side to side, your long, fluffy tail is up, and your smart ears are moving in all directions, showing how alert you are as you tiptoe through the crowd on the wide sidewalk of the busy street. Nobody really stops to look at you, nobody pays attention to stray hybrids. But you pay attention to everyone. And in semi-open bags, watches and jewelry on display and wallets in the back pockets, which with light hands you sneak up on without being noticed. You are very good at this, it is your way to survive. And whenever is necessary you even find your way to return the documents that come with the wallets and purses, because you are not a bad kitty.

Feeling the pockets of your hoodie heavier than before, satisfied, you walked away from the hustle and bustle, to less busy streets, until you reached an empty alley, behind a restaurant. Between two large garbage cans you sat huddled, so that no one would see you, taking the necessary care not to touch anything dirty or stinky, your nose already wrinkling with distaste for the smell of the place. You emptied your pockets to count your spoils. It was not a very good day, you stole several wallets, but few with a lot of money, in fact one literally only had the documents and some coupons and the subway pass - these things are useful, but you can't survive the whole week with just it. Besides, you took an expensive looking watch of a guy in a suit, and a big ring that you got from a lady who was walking her dog, these things you would change later when you return to the homeless camp.

With a sigh you stood up looking around, put the wallets, now empty of every item of value, in a plastic bag. Time to go to the subway to use your new pass and put the plastic bag wallets in the lost and found. In the bathroom of the station, in front of the mirror, you opened your personal bag - which you also got in suspiciously ways, as well as basically everything inside it - to get a hair comb and your toothbrush. You  brushed the fur of your tail and ears until no strand is out of place, and even without toothpaste you brushed your teeth to make your sharp fangs shine. As a last detail, with a fingertip you applied a little strawberry lip balm. Naturally beautiful, you looked in the mirror feeling lovely. A fifteen-minute train ride and a short walk later, you were in another alley, climbing the external emergency stairs of a building that cats like you dream of living in, stopping outside the window of a  apartment  on the seventh-floor. With the tip of your nail you lightly tapped on the window glass and waited. Only someone with good hearing would hear, so there was no danger that a human would come to you, yet you hid near the wall until you heard familiar footsteps coming towards you, and the window opened for Namjoon's handsome face to appear to you. "You are early." He smiled at you, adorable dimples showing up, making your stomach full of butterflies.

You stepped close to him, as he got out the window to get close to you too. "I just wanted to see you. I had nothing else to do anyway..." You shrugged and hugged his torso with your arms, bringing him to you even more.

Namjoon's smile widened as he took your face between his hands and kissed you. You could feel his tail happily wagging behind him, making you laugh against his lips.

"I'm glad you came earlier, I can spend more time with you." He pulled just enough to speak, your noses touching. "Are you hungry?"

"I'm always hungry." You shamelessly looked at him with doe eyes. You are always hungry indeed, your stomach always making weird noises, sometimes hurting for being empty for too many days.

"I will feed you, then." He pecked your lips a couple of times more. "Want to get in?"

You shook your head negatively. You never enter his apartment. You prefer not to invade that much.

"Thanks, Joon." You let go of him.

He smiles at you again before entering through the window, disappearing on the corner of the corridor, which is the only part of the apartment you had ever seen. It's been almost six months since you and Namjoon started dating. You two met in very specific and unconventional circumstances, where you basically stole his owner's wallet while the two of them shopped at a street fair, and well he saw you doing it, and even if you were fast on disappearing through people, he tracked you with his dog nose. When you thought you were safe enough to check the wallets you had stolen, hidden in an alley - as usual - he took you by surprise, holding your wrist with a hard look on your face. You didn't try to fight, you just cringed. He was so much bigger than you and he looked so angry... You had been beaten by dogs before, and this is an experience you try to avoid. Seeing you so scared tightened Namjoon's heart, his intention was just to retrieve his owner's wallet so she could pay for the veggies, not to scare you, so he politely asked for it, letting go of your wrist. 

He had seen you before that encounter, through the window, in the alley next to the building he lives in, on the streets when he goes out for a walk or to do chores for his owners, like putting out the trash or buying something at the market for breakfast. He had noticed you more than once. So the next time he saw you after that, he called you to talk, and already feeling attracted to him, you obliged, and since then you are very good friends, which soon became something else. You have come to learn that his owner, an old lady he calls Mom, goes out three times a week at the same time, and it is on these days that you come to see him. You took a sit by the stairs, resting your head on the wall, feeling tired, it's been days since you could sleep properly, and exactly three days since your last fool meal - which was the last day you've been with Namjoon. To say the truth, you weren't feeling just tired, you were weak... sick even. But you pushed the thought about it to the back of your mind and smiled when Namjoon came back through the window with pots of warm food and a bottle of soda. Your stomach made a twist in happiness.

"Mom made pasta yesterday and I saved some for you... In this one we have steak and onion rings." He seated beside you, handing you cutlery, and placing one of the pots, the one with pastai, open on your lap. "I also got a chocolate bar for taking care of the neighbor's baby on saturday, and saved it to share with you."

"Ownnn." You coed, placing a sweet kiss on his cheek. "You are so sweet, thank you. Since when you babysit?"

A blush spread his cheeks and his tail started to wag again.

"It was the first time, actually. It was kind of scary, taking care of something so small and fragile... and cute. I like babies so much." He looked so happy. You were happy. You two spent hours outside his window, talking, sunbathing, napping, reading... You are not illiterate, but you are not very good at reading, having few opportunities to do that in your life, so Namjoon teaches and helps you whenever you feel like it, if not, you lie with your head on his chest or on his lap to hear him read to you, in his calm voice. Often you fall asleep, like that, outdoors, on blankets and pillows that he brought so you could be more comfortable, the sun warming your legs, your stomach full, and the guy who moves your world taking care of you. 

You sleep better in this little time than in your bed at night, alone. You never said it out loud, but Namjoon knows. He is very good at noticing unspoken things. So when he hears your small snores, he always closes the book on his hand to look at your peaceful sleeping face and play with your hair. Even when he starts to feel uncomfortable, or if any of his arms or legs sleeps, he doesn't move, afraid to wake you up earlier than necessary, even if it lasts for hours in the same position. He wanted you to accept to come in, he wanted you to lie and cuddle with him in his bed, where is more comfortable and has more space... He wanted your scent to stay on his pillow so when he remember of you at night he would miss you a little bit less... He really wanted you could live with him. He was thinking exactly about it now, holding you as you sat on his lap, head against his shoulder, face hiding on his neck. By your breathing he could say you were sleeping, even if you were holding him back tightly, almost as if you were afraid he wouldn't be there when you wake up.

A loud honk on the street made you jump awake, startled and looking around, looking for a possible threat.

"Shhh. It's ok. It was just a truck in the street." He rubbed a reassuring hand on your back, bringing you to his chest again as you relaxed.

"Did I fall asleep again?" You whined. "For how long?"

"I don't know... One hour or so." He kissed your temple.

"Oh, noooo." You whined louder, the biggest pout in your lips. "Sorry. I didn't mean to... I wanted to be awake to enjoy my time with you..."  

"Don't worry, it's adorable. You look tired anyways..." He was trying to make you cortable again so you could go back to sleep.

You rubbed your eyes cutely and put your hair behind your ears.

"No, no... I'm okay." You mumbled. "Soon your mom will be back, and it's safer to go home before it gets dark... I don't wanna miss a second of you."

Namjoon is the best thing you have, and it's not just because you don't have much in life, it's because he is the person who most cared and loved you in life, You can't even remember the last time you felt so safe before you met him, or the last person who hugged you like he does. You may never have felt these things before him. In the homeless camp, everyone helps, protects and cares for each other, but it is more out of necessity than love. There is nothing you can give Namjoon that he doesn’t already have, he doesn’t need you and yet he’s so loving and kind. And that's why you miss him even sleeping, even dreaming about him, because dreams are nothing compared to him in real life... And even if you know that your love will end someday... Even if you live anxious and scared thinking that the next day could be the last with him... You are an alley cat, and alley cats never have a happy ending. You can die at any time on the streets, in many different ways. And even if you have a long life, one day his owners can find out about you and forbid him to see you, or he can get tired of you or fall in love with someone like him... With pedigree and owners who take care of them. When any of these things happen you will be prepared, but until then you want to spend as much time with Namjoon, in his gentle embrace, feeling desired like never before. You snuggled on him and he sighed, kissing your face over and over, making you giggle.

He knows you are lying when you say you are ok. He is intelligent, and reads a lot about a lot of things, besides, once again, he is very good at noticing unspoken things. He knows you are not that healthy, that you are always anxious, and that both things have been getting worse in the last few weeks. He wants to protect and care for you, but he can't. He can only guarantee that you have at least one decent meal three times a week, and when you are away anything can happen to you and he cannot do anything to stop it. Namjoon really wanted it so much that you could live with him...

"Y/N?" He cupped your face with one of his hands, the other still holding you close.

"Hmmm?" You purred with closed eyes, head leaning towards his hand.

"Did you think about that conversation of ours?" His voice was deep and wary, his hand on your back tracing circles to keep you relaxed.

"What conversation?" Your lips reached his hand, to kiss his palm gently.

His breath got stuck on his throat at the sign, but he continued.

"That one about you coming to live with me..." He almost whispered, the last time you talked about it you got really excited, and he didn't want it to happen again.

Your stomach felt heavy as if you had eaten bricks, and your heart squeezed in pain. You opened your eyes slowly, without making eye contact with Namjoon, however much he was looking for it. Your purring was gone. "Oh... This conversation..." You gulped, voice tight. "Not really... I said it already, Joon. I'm an alley cat, I'm where I belong, and your owners won't like me anyways."

You forced a smile at the end of the sentence, as if it wasn't a big deal, still not looking at him in the eyes.

"And I said I disagree. You belong where you want to be. Where you are safe and loved. And this place is with me..." He inquired, tooking your face with both hands now, kissing you softly. "Right? Don't you want to be with me?"

You nodded in silence, staring at his lips, and then  tightly squeezed your eyes shut.

"Good. Because I want so bad to be with you too." He was decisive as he stated. "Besides, there's no way mom and dad won't like you... You are cute, kind, sweet, smart, intelligent, and most importantly, I like you sooo much..." With each adjective he gave you a peck on the lips, and ended with a real kiss, making you melt. But it didn't last long, not as much you would like, because he had more to say to you. "You will eat well everyday, we will sleep together, we will never have to worry about the time passing and you will having to leave, nor will you need to steal or use public restrooms. Never again. You will be mine twenty-four hours a day and I will be able to protect you..." He bombarded you with pleas, each filled with tenderness.

"Namjoon..." You whispered.

"Y/N, please..." He begged.

"Namjoon... I..."

"I already talked with my mom." He stated.

You finally looked at his eyes, shock overtaking your face.

"What?" Your voice was small and expectant.

His mouth curved in a reassuring and bright smile.

"I told mom about a friend I made. A very special friend. We talked about you more than once or twice, actually. She already loves you, Y/N." His heart tightened as he saw your eyes getting wet. "She told me to invite you to dinner on friday. She will make you lasagna."

"Why would she do that?" You were incredulous.

"Cus I asked her to." He caught with his thumb a tear rolling on your cheek. "She wants to meet you, Y;N. And when that happens I know that she will fall in love with you to the point that she'll want to adopt you... I won't even have to ask. The same goes for my father."

You searched for lies in his eyes, but you only found certain. Namjoon really believed in each word  he said. It didn't calm you at all.

"I'm afraid, Namjoon" You admitted, and even if you didn't, he would know. ________________________________________________________________

The homeless camp used to be in an abandoned building, and probably with a condemned structure in the poorest part of the city... Now it is under a bridge a few kilometers away, because the police arrived expelling everyone, seizing goods, destroying improvised rooms, and arresting anyone who resisted a few months ago. Now you guys have more space than before, but raining on your head is more likely - which is very bad today, because looking at dark clouds forming in the sky, the smell of ozone that precedes storms entering your sensitive nose, you already know that the night will be long and scary. It makes no difference here whether it’s human or hybrid, everyone’s in the same shit. You walked through recyclable shacks and old tents, groups of strays, thieves like you, and beggars, garbage collectors, and some drug addicts - those you usually avoid - looking for a specific shack. At that time the line for exchanges is longer, but you are one of the favorites, so to the displeasure of many, you totally ignored everyone who arrived before you and entered the improvised door with a crochet curtain. "Ah, Y/N..." A pretty woman sitting behind her desk - wood boxes - smirked to you. The other two exchange dealers greeted you as well. "Right on time as usual... What do you have for me today?"

"Not much. I hope it is of value." You drop the ring and the watch in front of her.

"No phones today?"She raised an eyebrow to you.

"Nope, it wasn't a good day for busyness."

She sighed.

"It never is when you go to see your rich boy." She dryly said. "He is no good to you, Y/N. Not only because he takes your focus from work, but because hybrids created with the best never understand what life is like for strays... He will hurt you at some point."

She really looked concerned, and talked low so the other people around won't mind what is not their business. Yet you got slightly annoyed.

"You can't know. You are not a hybrid."

She smiled sympathetically.

"No. But I'm a stray. Have always been."

With a pair of gloves and a magnifying glass she studied both items you bought in silence for a moment. You were happy she turned her attention to another direction than your personal life. Then after a whole minute she got up. "Come with me."

You followed her to the back, into an old car - where things of value are kept. Most people in the camp don't even know about this car, hidden by old wooden walls and cardboard, but again, you're a favorite. "Ok. The watch is not a big deal." She said already counting the money to pay you. "I can give you this much and a new pair of shoes I got of your size. New pair of shoes."

You smiled, eyes sparkling with feline pupils going round, your tail moving side to side in interest. The only pair of tennis you have are cheap, beaten up, and with holes on the heels. A new pair is nice, especially if it isn't bigger or smaller than your feet. And you could look better on friday's dinner... You stopped the thought midway. You didn't decide to go yet, it was still making you anxious and freaking out... Besides, what good would new shoes do if all your five clothes are old?

"And what about the ring? It looks expensive." You asked with big eyes.

"It can be." She was examining the ring with a smaller, thicker lens now. "It's old. it has a date and a name written on the inside... And the stone doesn't look fake. I'll have to take it to a pawn shop to be sure of the value, and to be able to pay you. Can you wait a few days?"

"Sure. My shoes?"

You have your own little home, an old camping tent that you fixed in improvisation, inside all you have is a blanket and cardboards that prevent you from sleeping directly on the cold floor, a backpack where you keep your clothes - your personal items and money is always with you - a book Namjoon lent you and some silly magazines, and an ugly Christmas ornament that shines with battery, which you use to have some light at night. The dark scares you. Kneeling in the small space you took your hoodie, t-shirt and bra, instantly feeling more comfortable, from inside the backpack you took a clean t-shirt and put it on after applying deodorant, you also changed your jeans for a pair of jogger shorts, and vented the hoodie again, already feeling the cold air of the rain that was about to fall. Both the t-shirt and the jeans needed to be washed, as well as most of your underwear, so you've already set aside the right money to pay a visit to the laundry the next day. It made you sigh in regret. You shouldn't have come home.Ttwenty-four hours laundries are heated and much better to protect yourself from storms, bsides having bathrooms that you can use to wash yourself, you should have gone there with your clothes to wash it and to sleep where it is safe. Thinking if it would not be a good idea to follow through with this plan, you stuck your head out of the tent, and it was at that moment that the first thunder broke out, making you practically throw yourself back inside feeling your heart beat fast in the throat. With shaking hands, you zipped up the tent and wrapped yourself in the blanket as best you could, determined to sleep before the storm got too loud. It didn't work.

Hours later you were still in the same position, shivering with cold and fear, silent tears streaming down your tightly closed eyes. With every thunder, your heart felt like it was going to leap out of your chest, in addition to the violent sound of rain and wind that terrifies you, you almost couldn't breathe anymore. Even with your ears close to your head you could hear other guys from the camp laughing and talking loudly, somewhere drier under the bridge, probably sharing a drink around a fire to keep warm... If you weren't so afraid you would join them, but you couldn't move, paralyzed in a fetal position. At some point, you wouldn't be able to say how long after, you caught something in their conversation that caught your attention.

"Are you lost?" One guy said.

"You clearly don't belong here, dude. What do you want?" Another one shouted, so you understood better. You didn't hear the answer, whoever they were talking to, that someone should speak in a much calmer tone, or frightened, since the camp guys can be quite intimidating when in group.

"I don't know who you are talking about, and I don't like trust fund dogs like you snooping around our territory... " The second guy threatened even more loudly, I clearly growl following the words.

"You should go home, dude." Another one talked.

Growls and altered voices indicated that they were surrounding the guy, maybe it would end up in a fight, and just by thinking about you tightened the blanket in your hands, bringing it closer to your frightened chest. Violence was the last thing you needed now.

"Wait! Stop you guys." You heard the first voice, he sounded way nicer, so you didn't understand him as well. "Can you describe again? I can help you to find." The turmoil passed, so your fear that the argument would turn into a fight too, but then again, you had nothing else to focus on other than the storm outside. A thunder louder than the others made you whimper and cringe even more. You just wanted to sleep so that it would end soon. To make matters worse your horrible Christmas ornament started to flash until it went off, the batteries ran out, and you were now in complete darkness and on the verge of a panic attack. Every cell in your body screamed that you were going to die, totally irrational, but nothing in the world would save you from that horrible feeling right now.

"I think this is her tent, but I personally don't know her, so I can be wrong." That nice guy talked just outside you little home. "Is this Y/N? Are you home?" You wanted to answer. This was your chance not to be alone with your fears and get help. But you couldn't put enough attention to it, the chest pain and difficulty breathing were the only thing you could think of. The only sound coming out of your mouth was the mixture of whimpers of pain and hyperventilation, and you doubted that with the noise outside he could hear it.

"Sorry, dude. I think is not here..." The guy started and just now you understood that he was talking to someone else.

You were confused, with difficulty thinking, and was even more confused when she heard a familiar voice, very close to the door.

"Y/N?" More tears are streaming down his face in relief. You didn't know if you were dreaming or hallucinating, but it didn't matter. Even if weakly, you regained the ability to speak.

"Namjoon??" You sobbed.

The answer came almost instantly, in a worried tone.

"It's me, princess, can I come in?"

"Please.." Namjoon never heard your voice so small and fragile before. He knew you were afraid of storms, he was restless at home, pacing the room, thinking about you alone in the worst rain of the year, so as soon as mom and dad went to sleep, he packed a backpack and went out by the emergency stairs. More than once you talked about where the camp was, he knew exactly where it was, even though you never let him visit you before. But he didn't expect to see you like this. After thanking the hybrid who helped him find you, he unzipped the tent to find you in the shape of a frightened ball, huddled in the corner of the tent. You were shaking so much. He took the backpack off his back and went in the tent, zipping it to stop the wind, and then kneeling right next to you. Your eyes were closed, you wanted to look to see if it was really him, but the fear of opening your eyes and seeing only darkness hold you back.

Namjoon was prepared for that. From the backpack he pulled out an emergency light that brought clarity to the small space, and that alone was enough to calm you down a little, in the next instant you felt another blanket being placed on you, a warm blanket with the smell of Namjoon, and this is almost the definition of heaven for you. A hand brushed the hair off your face and massaged your scalp. You finally looked at him, eyes bloodshot from crying. "Princess, can I lie down with you, can I hold you?" He asked for permission, words full of love and care.

"Please." You nodded eagerly.

Namjoon got beneath the blanket and brought you close to his chest, letting you bury your face in the crook of his neck.

"I.. c-can't breath... Namjoon..." You whined. Still feeling like you would die.

"Shhh, loosen your fists... Here, let's hold hands, okay? Try to breathe with me. I'm here to protect you." He kissed your forehead, managing to hold your hand without undoing the embrace around you.

Several minutes passed away until you started to feel better, and your body let the tension go, and you managed to hug him back. You were damn tired and sleepy now. "Thank you." You whispered, kissing his chest.

Namjoon wanted to say to you to not thank him, because everything he wants is to keep you safe, that he wouldn't sleep while thinking if you were ok or not. Instead he just kissed your temple, then the tip of your nose, then the corner of your lips, then your whole face.

"I love you." He lifted your chin to look at him. "You are everything to me."

You wanted to cry again, a huge mix of feelings overflowing you. Your hold on him tightened and you kissed him exactly the way he did to you, not missing one spot, but ended it with a solid kiss on his lips, noses and foreheads connected as well.

"I love you too. You are the most precious thing I have." You smiled, but still there were tears on the corner of your eyes. "And it scares the hell out of me."

He laughed.

"I know. It scares the hell of me too." He closed his eyes and sighed. "I've never slept on the floor in my life, and it's pretty uncomfortable. But I would only go back to my bed tonight if you were with me."

Having Namjoon to hold you the whole night in a comfy and warm bed really sounds good. But you didn't voice it out.

"Ah." Namjoon spok suddenly. "I brought food too... If you want..."

"No." You held him tighter, before he could manage to let you go. "Stay here. Cuddle me. I just want it." The rain and wind still howled outside, periodically thunders broke out frighteningly. But Namjoon's presence, protecting you from these things really made you forget, minutes later, with his hands massaging your hair and the base of your ears, you fell asleep, and had the best night's sleep of your life. ________________________________________________________________

Next morning you were still cuddling, Namjoon spooning you, you using his arms as a pillow, legs entangled, holding hands. When you opened your eyes it wasn't raining anymore and the emergence light was off, which isn't a problem now that the daylight has come. 

You can feel Namjoon's breath against the back of your neck as you came out of your slumber, and as he, who was already awake for a while now, noticed you were waking up, he started to lightly kiss your nape and shoulders, tickling you and spreading goosebumps across your skin. Even still sleepy, you laughed in your rusky morning voice.

"Good morning, princess" His morning voice was also attractive. He pulled you closer to his chest, still kissing you and making you giggle. "Did you sleep well?"

"Hmmm... So warm..." You turned to him and hid your face between him and the blanket. "I could sleep here forever..."

"Then go back to sleep."

Waking up for real and wanting to get up and get on with your day seemed the most difficult thing at that moment. Your eyes were heavy and you were soooo warm and cozy, all your worries were miles away from you now, and namjoons smell is always so good and calming... Before you finally returned to unconsciousness, a thought crossed your mind making your eyes open wide, almost on alert. "What time is it? Your mom and dad know you are here, won't they be mad at you for not sleeping at home?" You freaked out.

With eyes closed and a relaxed face, Namjoon just smiled.

"Don't worry, love. I texted my mom telling her I went for a walk, I do it a lot so she won't think much of it." He pressed a kiss on your forehead, lazily talking against your skin. "Besides it's early, they are still sleeping..."

"Hmmm. Ok, then." You purred.

Namjoon loves when you purr, is the cutest thing ever, and the vibration on your chest against his makes him happy. He couldn't hold himself and wag his tail as well. You love when Namjoon wags his tail, is the cutest thing ever. Suddenly both of you were laughing at each other's cuteness, your sleepyheads gradually waking up.Then your stomach made a weird sound making it impossible to try to stay in bed.

"Sorry, I'm hungry."

Namjoon seated up and he stretched, feeling the impact of sleeping on the hard floor, pillowless, for the first time in his life. He was adopted at a very young age, as a toddler, by a couple who could not have children and always had the good and the best, he had the luck that most hybrids do not.

"Your neck hurt?" You asked, already massaging it for him. 

"A little, but it's' nothing. Thank you." He reached his backpack, picking a thermos and mugs, as well as a can with sandwiches and a packet of cookies. "Breakfast."

Your eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, you usually don't eat in the morning, so just the image of sandwiches made your heart beat faster.

"Oh my god I love you." You picked one and stuck it whole in your mouth, feeling blessed. When Namjoon served you a mug of hot chocolate you ended up in cloud nine. "My god, I love you even more."

In order not to lose contact with his heat, you laid your head on his shoulder to eat in silence, just taking advantage of his presence. He put his arm around your shoulder and brought you closer, as he did the same. You could really get used to waking up next to Namjoon every day, having breakfast every day... Having breakfast with Namjoon every day. "Is there any bathroom around here I can use?" He asked when you were with full bellies.

"Not really. We have chemical toilets near the exchanges but they are always being used and smelly. Usually I go to the subway or some restaurant... I have to do laundry today, we can go there, the soap smells good." You answered calmly, as if not having access to basic hygiene was not subsistence.

"Then let's go." Namjoon tried to fix your messy morning hair.

Your eyes got wide, and then you hid your face in your hands.

"Aaaaaaah..." You whined, murmuring things that Namjoon couldn't understand.

"What was that, love?" He laughed.

"You are not just seeing my morning face, I must also be all swollen from crying my eyes out... My eyes must look like two buns." You voiced your mental breakdown making Namjoon laugh again. 

"It's okay, princess, you had a hard night, besides..." He took your wrists in his hands, trying to uncover your face. "Your morning face is the cutest. You are always beautiful."

You looked at him between your fingers.

"But my eyes look like two buns, right?" 

"Yeah." Namjoon confirmed and you whined again, pouting hard. "But I can borrow you my sunglasses when we go out, so only I'll see your beautiful bun eyes."

"Thank you, Joonie."

You got everything you would need - basically everything you have - and got out the tent hand in hand, backpacks on. The camp was awake in it's routine. As you walked down the way out of it a group of kids ran in your direction.

"Y/N!!" They sang and called. The smallest boy, a cat like you, stood out from the group and threw himself into your arms, asking to be held. "Hello, Y/N. Who is this?"

All the kids looked at Namjoon with doe eyes, curious with your answer.

"This is my boyfriend, Namjoon."

All kids coed by it, asking things to him, and inviting him to play, as much they were demanding you to.

"This is my gang." You told him with a smile and then turned your attention to the little strays. "I can't play today, bubbles. I have to..."

Before you could continue, all of them started to complain and argue why you had to play. You looked lost, because you really like to spend time with the littles and are horrible at saying no to them. Namjoon saw the need to save you.

"Sorry kids, she is all mine today... But what do you think about cookies?" He took the package out of his backpack, which you two barely ate, and the kids had their eyes shining just like you minutes before.

"Thank you." The older girl of the group took the package to distribute among them.

You put the little boy down and entangled your fingers with Namjoon again.

"Bye bye, kids."

"Bye Y/N!"

Until leaving the camp you greeted a few more people here and there, receiving several smiles and 'good morning', in addition to curious looks and several comments about your boyfriend. Namjoon noted that you seemed to know everyone by name, and that everyone knew you too. The group of children followed the two of you at a distance, perhaps hoping you would change your mind and decide to play with them, or to gain something else. "These people like you." Namjoon said, after you two got out and moved away enough that no one would listen to you. "But it isn't a surprise at all, you are special."

Your face heated up.

"What do you mean by special?"

"It's easy to fall in love with you." He simply said, looking at you as if it was the most obvious truth in the word.

Your stomach made a twist. You don't feel like it, looking through your past and all the times you had love denied to you, or when everything you got from others was hate and contempt. If you were that lovable you wouldn't live in the streets. Part of your resistance to meeting Namjoon's parents is precisely because of this, fear of rejection.

Namjoon noticed your change of humor, and didn't need you to explain yourself to understand what was passing through your mind. He just kept talking.

"Those little guys seemed to be crazy about you, I bet they would be upset if you came to live with me... I know that I've had to deal with jealousy the way people look at you when you're being adorable more than once." 

"What are you talking about?" 

"An example... The times we went to that bakery, the owner adores you, and you know, she praises you until you're embarrassed, and the cashier is always staring at you and that makes me uncomfortable cuz I know he thinks you are beautiful."

You sighed.

"She always gives me snacks when I pass by." You were already seeing the laundry shop. "I know what's your point, Namjoon... I'll go."

"Will you...?" He looked confused.

"I'm going to that dinner... on friday."

Namjoon gave you the smile that made you want to make all his wishes real. ________________________________________________________________

Friday came faster than you expected. And you're much less anxious than you thought you would be - but of course, that doesn't mean you're calm. After getting your money for the ring you stole at the beginning of the week, you broke into the locker room of a public pool - hybrids not allowed - and took a long shower, and now at the mall you were looking at cute hairpieces. Would it be too much? You already have a new pair of shoes but you wanted to look presentable and adoptable. You wanted to look good. Usually you only think about surviving and that doesn't include good clothing, but today is a different occasion, it is a special day. You bought a satin ribbon for your hair.

Walking around the mall, nobody paid much attention to you, as usual, from time to time you had to avoid going through a security guard, so as not to be questioned for being without your owner around, but other than that, it was being a peaceful walk. Until you saw exactly what you were looking for. You don't even remember the last time you wore a dress, maybe never, but they are perfect for meeting someone formally, right? If the idea is to make a good first impression... After looking at the dress through the store window for a few seconds and made the decision to enter. You went straight for it, holding your breath until you saw the price and made sure you could buy it. You took one out of the rack as you found one that would suit you. "Excuse me, can I help you?" 

You were almost startled when the attendant appeared at your side, too distracted to imagine yourself wearing the dress to pay attention to your surroundings. "Ah... Hello." You smiled, holding tighter to the dress. "I want to buy this." She smiled politely, looking around.

"Of course. Where is your owner?"

You have been through this situation so many times that the answer came out of your mouth naturally. "At the shoe store next door, they said I could come first and buy this dress..." You smiled widely as if you really have a loving owner waiting for you to come back with your new dress.

"Oh, I see." Her smile faltered a little. "So we need to wait for your owner to come here. We don't sell to unaccompanied hybrids."

You mentally cursed.

"I got it..." You tried to  look terribly upset to soften her heart. "But I have the money with me, it would be easier if you just let me pay already... right?"

She sighed and took the dress from your hand and put it back in the rack.

"We only sell to hybrids accompanied by tutors. No owner, no dress. Please leave." She turned her back on you.

"Wait!" You followed her. "I need this dress to get an owner. I really have the money..."

"I said no. Leave before I call the security."

You obeyed, stepping out of the store with a bitter taste in your mouth and an urge to cry. You weren't as nervous as you thought you would be, but that situation was enough to trigger all the fears in you to manifest. More than once you have been humiliated and treated like an animal for not having a human to have you, but today is the first time you want one, that you have the possibility to change things. This is the last time you let them be unfair to you... Being more discreet as you are used to being, you entered the store again, right after another customer, taking advantage of the fact that the customer was distracting the attendant, kept down until you were close enough to get the dress. Without worrying about change, you left the money on the counter and headed for the exit again. It's just that you're not used to robbing stores - not that you're robbing now, technically you paid - so you didn't remember about the alarm... As soon as you walked through the door, the deafening noise sounded... And you ran. Without thinking too much, even running, you started to put the dress, over your shirt and shorts, so that no one could take it from you. You heard the store clerk yelling for security. "Give that dress back now! Somebody stop that cat!" "I paid for it!" You shouted back. The new shoes were not very good for running. In the next second, a security guard held you by the arm, to immobilize you, you could hear the commotion of people around you, and footsteps of other security officers approaching. "Let go of me, I paid!" You didn't think much about it, you just moved your free hand. The security guard shouted along with the movement, you scratched him right in the face, and he released you. You ran again. Seeing the exit you saw the chance to escape right in front of you, when you mingled with the people on the street nobody could catch you, you would disappear, and everything would be fine... Almost there. Then something wrapped around your neck and you fell back just for another guard came to restrain you. ________________________________________________________________

Namjoon was sitting on the emergency stairs. It's been an hour since you should have arrived for dinner. He's worried, because you're not a late person, but maybe you changed your mind at the last minute... maybe he asked too much when he invited you to meet his parents promising a home that he wasn't even sure he could give you... You don't even have a cell phone to tell him about it or for him to call you to find out how you are... Should he go after you?

"Namjoon? Your food is cold, you should come in and eat..." His mom appeared on the window. She had a comprehensive look on her face, the kind that mothers use when they want to cheer their children up. "Come on, I'll warm you up a plate."

"Thank you mom. But I lost my appetite... I'll wait a little longer." "Ok, my love. We'll be waiting for you..."

His mom had made for dinner everything he asked and prepared a bed in the guest room so you don't have to come home late, his dad opened a bottle of wine and set the table with cute candles. They were waiting for you too.

"What do I do?" He whispered to himself. Maybe he should just get in, eat and then wash the dishes, apologize with mom and dad for making them  prepare the whole dinner night, and go to bed... He would see you again on monday, so you both would talk about it, things would be ok then... Still he couldn't stop thinking about checking you up right now, he already knows where you reside...

He heard a whistle.

A few flights down the stairs, in the dark, he could see a group of people... children... The kids of the camp, looking at him with hybrid eyes shining in the dark. "Hello?" Namjoon carefully called.

The older girl from before stepped forward into the light of a window to be seen, but didn't get closer than that. She spoke in a low voice.

"Y/N is in trouble... She got arrested."

Namjoon's heart dropped.

"What?"

"She must be transferred to a shelter till the end of the night..." The girl continued, voice worried. "They might put her down because she scratched someone... Please help her."

Namjoon hardly heard the last part. He didn't need to know the context, or how rumors of you being arrested spread among the homeless until it reached him, or if he could do anything to really help you... He just wanted to reach you and that's it. He ran inside with teary eyes and struggling to speak, looking for the people who could do something in a situation like this.

"Mom! Dad!"

Hearing the despair in Namjoon's voice, his father was the first to meet him in the hall, holding him by the shoulders. Namjoon is not one for crying, so it must be serious. "Son, what's the matter?"

"Y/N... got arrested. I don't know why, but we need to help. Dad, you need to help." 

"What's happening?" His mom got out of the bathroom looking all worried.

Before Namjoon could explain again, his dad answered.

"Honey, pick my keys and wallet, please. We need to go pick Namjoon's girl."

"Pick her? Where?" Even without understanding and questioning it, his mom got the keys and wallet, as his dad got to put his shoes on.

"At the hybrid specialized police station." He answered.

Namjoon was putting his shoes and jacket on too, remembering to pick a coat for you as well, not knowing if you were wearing a hoodie or not and the night was chilly.

"Jesus! I'll go too!" His mom ran to pick her stuff. "The night will be long in a way that is not what I was imagining when you opened that bottle of wine, dear..."

The three of them left the apartment and headed to the elevator. Namjoon was shaking on his spot just by thinking about how you are right now, what you are feeling, if you were okay or if you were being treated well. He couldn't bear the thought of you being put down just for scratching someone, he knows you are not violent, if you did such a thing is because you needed to... He just pushed that thought to the back of his mind. His father put a hand on his shoulder, almost at the same time as his mother took his hand.

"It's okay son, we are going to get her. It will be okay." His dad said. "Thanks, dad. Thanks, mom." ________________________________________________________________

At the police station, the officers did not leave the three of them warming up chairs as expected, but only because Namjoon's mother is a retired detective and has arrived already showing her credentials and demanding to speak to the person responsible for your case. "The theft charge was dropped because she apparently left the money before setting off the alarm and fleeing, but the charge of aggression remains. The mall employee needed twelve stitches across the face." An officer explained to them after confirming you were there, in one of the cells. "Usually when a hybrid commits a crime, we sue the owners for negligence, almost as it does with minors, the parents are responsible for the crimes... In the case of a stray we pass it on to the hybrid control system, a shelter will take responsibility. This is what will happen to your friend, ma'am."

"And what do we need to do to take her home?" Namjoon's mom was the one talking.

"You have to ask the shelter staff. They should be coming soon, you can wait in the lobby. In any case, this is their card."

That said, the police made it clear that he had no more time to talk to them and guided them out the office door, back to the lobby, where now, they would just have to wait. Hybrids do not receive visits except from their owners, so they couldn't even see you. They had no way of letting you know that they were there for you, so you could be calm. Perhaps it was not necessary at all. Before the three had time to make themselves comfortable on the wooden bench next to the reception, a group of people in white uniforms came out of a door across the hall, a hybrid cat walking in the middle of two of them. You were still wearing your new dress, still tagged, the satin ribbon adorning your hair around your ears. You had your head down, but it could be seen that besides being handcuffed, you were wearing a collar, being pulled by one of the guys. 

"Y/N!" Namjoon got up from his seat, already on the impulse to come to you. Upon hearing your name you looked up, eyes red with crying for thinking you had ruined everything, for having already accepted that an uncertain and probably horrible future was coming... But there was your hope again. You really didn't expect to see Namjoon ever again. "Namjoon!" You called with your voice breaking and your eyes filling with tears again. You tried to go towards him too, reach out to touch him, but you can barely take a step before they tug on your collar making you choke on your crying. "Hey!" Namjoon practically growled. "Joon, don't let them take me, please!" You despaired to see that the shelter staff completely ignored him, still guiding you out. "I just wanted to look pretty to your mom! I swear... Don't let them take me, Namjoon!" Seeing that you were agitated the guy pulled you harder by the collar and another one grabbed you by the arm to contain you. More heavy tears rolled down your face and you resisted, still trying to get to your boyfriend. Namjoon actually growled now, you've never seen him show his teeth to anyone. A police officer came and stood between him and the staff, a man you didn't remember seeing before called Namjoon in a warning tone and you wondered if he was his father. "Don't hurt her." Namjoon spoke through his teeth. "I suggest that you contain your hybrid." The officer spoke to Namjoon's father. The third staff, who was not busy trying to drag you out, approached carefully. "Sorry, but what's going on?" "We came to get Y / N, this is what is going on." Namjoon replied how hybrids generally aren't allowed to do. The staff looked confused. "Isn't she stray then? Are you her owners?" "No. She is a friend of our boy, we came with the intention of helping her." His mom replied, taking a step forward. The staff's face contorted, mouth twitched. "I see. But there's not much to do right now, I'm sorry. If she doesn't have any owners we need to take her to the shelter." "Even if we are here to take her home?" Namjoon questioned, incredulous. "We can't just put her in the hands of strangers, she is our responsibility. If you want to adopt her, then need to be in the shelter early in the morning." The guy smiled without much sympathy, he seemed too tired to be more friendly. "So, good night. Come on." He turned his back on Namjoon and his parents, the other two guys made even more effort to take you to the door. "No!" You cried, trying to kick and fight to get rid of them. "Namjoon!" "Get your hands off her!" Namjoon bypassed the policeman, ready to fight, to get you out of the hands of the two guys. It was necessary for the policeman and his father to hold him together to contain him. But there was no fight, because in the next moment the staff that was holding your arm was fed up and with a syringe on your neck made you sleep. The last thing you saw was Namjoon's face turning into a blur. The guy picked you up carefully, and now without resistance, took you out of the police station. "In any case, see you tomorrow." The staff nodded goodbye.

"Wai!" Namjoon called reaching out with the coat he brought you. "Can you give this to her? She's can get cold."

The guy looked from Namjoon to the coat and smiled.

"Of couse." He picked it and followed his coworkers outside.

"Y/N..." Namjoon yelped without knowing what to do, because what he wanted was to run after them and get you back, but there were still two men holding him in place, and one of those men was his father... He never disobey his parents. "Come on, son. Let's go home, yeah?" His mom took his hand in a conforting way, and everything he wanted was for her to hold him.

The three of them got back to the car in silence, Namjoon seated  on the middle os the back seat as always - where he can see and talk to both mom and dad, regardless of who was driving - with his head low. His mind was working hard, the whole situation was so unfair, and he could only see one solution that would depend entirely on how willing his parents were on helping. He wanted to do it right, but things got complicated. Loosing you couldn't happen.

"Don't worry, son. We going to the shelter tomorrow and see what we can do." His dad spoke of the passenger seat. "They can't keep her against her will right?"

"Actually they can, darling." Mother bite her lip. "Hybrids are not citizens..." A tense silence ensued, the two don't like to talk about these things in front of Namjoon for fear of making him upset. "Mom... Dad." Namjoon softly called after some time.

"Yes. Baby boy?" Mom tried to make eye contact through the mirror, but Namjoon was staring at his hands. "Namjoon?"

He took a deep breath and started to speak, feeling a lump in his throat. "I was planning on bringing it up after the dinner. Is something I've been wanting for some time. Only now it's not just wanting, it's probably the only way..." He fighted the urge of crying, talking more firmly instead. "The only way of seeing Y/N again. I can't deal with the possibility of never seeing her ever again. I know is a lot to ask, but can you guys adopt her too?" ________________________________________________________________

Because of the tranquilizer you didn't wake up until the next day, in a strange place, full of strange smells. It was all very clean and you were sure you had never been there, it took you a while to actually wake up and remember the events of the previous day and deduce that it must be a room in the shelter that picked you up at the police station. Next to your bed there was another one, empty, although by the smell you knew someone sleeps in it. You were alone in the room. You tried to get up, feeling a little dizzy, wondering if you were going to the door or the window. In the process of getting out from under the covers, you found something with a familiar smell, a coat in which you slept hugging. You brought the fabric up to your nose and took a deep breath. "Namjoon ..." You put on your coat and chose the window, since the door would probably be locked. The image on the outside left you breathless for a moment. You had been in a shelter before, which you ran away from, but it wasn't like that. Outside there was a huge grassy space, full of hybrids running around and playing, they were obviously separated by type and breed, and employees in white uniforms were everywhere too. They looked happy. Hope of not being put down has arisen in your heart. At least you weren't going to die. The door behind you opened.

"You awake." A woman, a nurse, entered pushing a cart with a tray. "How are you feeling?"

"Good, I think..." You answered, putting the bed between you two. This detail didn't go unnoticed, but she didn't seem bothered, street hybrids are always suspicious at first.

"We needed to use tranquilizer on you yesterday, please let me know if you experience any side effects, such as dry mouth, dizziness, lethargy, loss of appetite, itching... Anything you are not used to. Ok?"

"Ok."

"I brought you breakfest." She smiled. "Aparently you won't stay with us for long, but we can't let you starve, right?"

Your heart dropped, and for reflex you looked through the window, to the other hybrids.

"What do you mean I won't be here for long?" You asked her, hoping she wouldn't look at you with pity or something like this.

She just motioned for you to sit on the bed and placed the food tray on your lap. You have not been able to see anything in her expression that gives you the intentions of the shelter towards you.

"A social worker will come and talk to you, until then try to eat." "Ok." You said again.

She left. And you were alone in the torturous wait, having only scrambled eggs and sliced apples to distract you. At some poit the hybrids playing outside started to get in ad the grass area got empty, except for some employees collecting forgotten toys and cleaning up the garbage that the hybrids left behind in their rush to get back inside. It should be lunchtime or something, or maybe... In the old shelter you lived in a few years ago, there were two moments of the day when the hybrids were on display for the public, for adoption, two periods, one in the morning and another in the afternoon... Maybe that was it. Maybe some of that happy hybrids would get lovely homes today. 

You ended to eat and laid down on the borther of the bed, where the morning sun was hitting and closed your eyes. You were still with the dress, no one tried to get it from you, with is good cuz you paid... much more than money. You sacrificed a lot more than money in that shitty beultiful dress. You missed the chance to live with a good family and to be able to see Namjoon again. Even if you ran away and managed to talk to him, would he want you after you got arrested for assaulting someone...? Wouldn't his family forbid him from seeing you if he still wanted you? What would you do now?

Your lament was interrupted by a knock on the door which opened shortly thereafter, revealing a woman wearing a suit. "Y/N, right? Can we come in?" She said, behind her was another staff, which one you recognized as one of the staff that got you on the police station. You nodded, sitting up, and they came in. The woman got a seat in a chair beside your bed, the man stood by the door.

"How you today?" She asked, as you just shrugged in silence, she continued. "I'm the social worker. I guarantee that all hybrids that pass through this institution are well treated, have everything they need, that the documents are all up to date, exams done, and also I take care of adoptions, as well as... procedures for last resort. You got into a terrible mess yesterday, didn't you?"

"It wasn't my intention..." You mumbled.

"I've heard of it." She looked to the staf and then to you again, handing you a paper. "There are two names circled there, do you recognize those names?"

With your limited reading ability and the nervousness of having to answer the question, you caught your eye on the names really fast, one for men and one for women, and shook your head no. Nobody known to you came to your mind as you read them. "You don't know them?" The woman insisted.

"Not that I remember... Why?" You risked.

"This couple is interested on adopting you. How it sounds?"

You heart got race. What does she mean by adoping? You’re not even twenty-four hours at the shelter, and someone’s already interested in you? Like, how? That's weird. She should be lying to you.

"It sounds suspicious." You said lowly, not looking at her or at the guy at the door.

She nodded.

"You can meet them before any paper be signed. Your opinion will be considered here..."

You kept silence for a while... Thinking.

"How are they interested in me if they didn't see me at all?"

"They said their hybrid is your friend." She smiled, checking the tablet she has with her.

An electric current ran through your spine, suddenly you were sitting on the edge of the bed, facing the woman. "Their hybrid? What his name? Do you remember the name of the hybrid?" You looked expectantly at her. As she didn't awnser as fast as you wanted you reached at the staff, you never talked so fast in your whole life "Is the hybrid from yesterday? The one that was on the police statation to get me?"

He nodded.

"Is Namjoon here? Can I go to meet them right now?" 

You put on your shoes and stood up, ready to go, looking from the woman to the guy and from the guy to the woman waiting for them to open the door and show the way. She woman stood up as well, looking satisfied with your good will.

"They are waiting in a visiting room. Follow me, and please behave."

You almost could't contain your eager, ears tilting in all directions as you walked between the two of them through the iluminated corridor till the elevator, eyes scanning the buttons and the colorful red light indicating the floors as you got down to the fist floor, nose sniff as a lot of diferent smell of diferent hybrids filled your senses in the corridor full of glass doors. She stoped in front of one of this doors and looked at you as if asing again for you to behave, and then opened it. You barely stepped into the room to see Namjoon walking back and forth in front of the couch, and in the next second his arms were around you, and yours were around him. His happy whining and you purr mixing as the embrace got tighter. "Are you okay? Did you sleep well? Did they fed you? You are not hurt, are you?" He showered you with questions, tooking you face in his hands to look at you.

"I'm fine. I was doped up, so yes. Yeah. And no." You smiled brightly, looking at him as well, then your smile dropped a bit. "You look like you didn't sleep well."

"I could't." He stated seriously.

"He was too worried about you, honey." A voice came from behind him, and you finally remembered you two werent alone.

The old lady you know as his mom was smiling at you from the couch, hand in hand with a man you supposed that was his father. You had the impulse of partially hiding behind Namjoon, your face red and your tail between your legs.

"Hello. Is nice to meet you. Sorry for the trouble." You took the courage to say, even if you felt o small.

"Is nice to meet you too." Dad said with a wide smile. Even if they haven't any blood connection, you could say he and Namjoon smiles in a similar way, warm. "Lets go home with us?"

You looked at Namjoon, waiting for his confirmation, to make sure it was real. He squeezed you hand, entangling you fingers.

"Mom thought it was cute of you of trying to impress her with a pretty dress. I told you, they already love you. Cus you are adorable."

You saw mom nod, agreeing with his words. 

You shook your head yes, feeling your eyes getting wet with happy tears.

"Please. take me home" You hugged him again, not wanting to let go ever again.

 You heard the sound of the pen against the paper as the documents were been signed, at same time you felt Namjoon's lips pressing against your forehead, drawing a satisfied sigh from you. You almost couldn't believe.

"We only need your fingerprint, and you're all set." The social worker said to you, pointing a specifc blank space on the papers for you to print on.

You eagerly did it, without leting go of Namjoon's hand. God, you will be the clingiest cat for a while, at least until you get used to having him everyday. You let a happy sound came of your mouth as you fingerprinted the last page.

"Now we go home?" You asked, jumping on your spot.

Namjoon's tail were wagging to all directions, hitting everything.

"Now we go home." He showed his dimples to you and your heart almost combusted.

Thanx so much for the request @theresa-nam-nam-me​ I had a really good time writing this (=ↀωↀ=)

[madlymiho]

Hello!!!! If I'm right on time can I request spooky alphabet Casper, Frankenstein, kill, supernatural & Unexpected with Law & Zoro? If not then delete this.

Hey anon! ☺️ you were in time!

Law's S and F letters has already been answered, so I won't put it again here!

Thanks for requesting my alphabet! 🤓❤️ I hope you'll enjoy it!

Spookyvent #12

Zoro

Casper: Do they believe in ghost? Would they hunt for them? Do they believe in a life after death or are they down on the ground most of the time?

Zoro isn’t so much a believer (remember how he claims he didn’t believe in God even when he was in Skypeia?), so ghosts? Meh, possible, for sure, maybe it exists, maybe not. Who really cares? If they exist, well, he’s not afraid of them, and he’s more curious to know if he’s able to slice them in pieces rather than truly study them. Can he kill a ghost for a second time? That would be a nice thing to discover for sure! If Luffy believes it can be fun the hunt them and discover their existence wherever they are, yeah, for sure he’s in! Zoro lives for the thrill and the fun, and he’s probably the one who doesn’t blink when his captain comes up with the stupidest ideas. So frankly, Zoro is swinging between his non-beliefs in general, and the very fact that his world is a damn example of weird things happening. If it happens, it happens, he will only care if it can bring some fun and challenge in his swordsman’s life!

Frankenstein:  Favorite literature to read during this spooky period? Comics? Novels

Not that he’s the most idiotic man on Earth, but Zoro isn’t a thorough reader either. He sometimes borrows some comics to Usopp or Franky, he avoids to ask the damn cook for any kind of reading as well (because he knows what he will find), and he’s not really into very complicated books like Robin would enjoy. What can be his options? Chopper prefers to read medicinal books, Nami is into romance or navigation stuff, and Brook prefers some classical readings Zoro finds too boring to actually care. Perhaps if any of them could offer him a story with sword and war, he will pay attention and might try to read (if he’s not falling asleep during the process).

Nah, really, the best option remains in having a member of his crew (Robin, for sure), picking a very morbid and bloody story to read it out loud, so at least, he wouldn’t have to read it himself - especially not when someone can do it better than him!

Kill: What would be their most favorite way to kill someone? What is their method? Are they able to kill or would they get cold feet?

Killing isn’t what motivate Zoro to fight. He’s not looking for any sort of murder, and this is not the Straw Hat’s philosophy, on the contrary, they always prefer to try saving soulds rather than condemning them. Zoro will always make sure that he’s not deadly hurting someone, only seeking for the challenge of the combat rather than the death of his opponent. Even the most cruel ennemies he fought aren’t dead today, even if Zoro definitely has the power to end their lives.

Zoro has honor, despite his choice to become a pirate, and killing someone is a part of the forbidden thing of his own code.

Supernatural: What are their beliefs? Do they actually trust in supernatural existence in the first place?

Absolutely nothing, this guy is bulletproof to any kind of supernatural beliefs. You can put him a ghost, a god, a zombie, for sure he’s surprised, but he believes they are some kind of explanations, coming from the Devil Fruits in the first place. Real ghosts, real demons, all of these, he clearly thinks they are a myth and nothing else. He’s very rational, and would never pay attention this kind of stuff, preferring to live his life in peace.

Supernatural things aren’t a thing for a swordsman, he has to remain down to earth to prepare himself to claim the title of being the best fighter, and for that, he can only count on himself anyway.

Unexpected: What could really surprise them, what would be the most unexpected situations to spend Halloween for them?

Having a quiet celebration can be the only surprise for Zoro here. Quiet... the only world which would never define the Straw Hat and their chaotic vibes. It seems almost frightening to imagine that they can behave. Imagine how it can be so disturbing to have them all quietly seated around a table, eating in peace and soft voices, until they would all choose to sleep rather than doing some mischief in town?

So scary... It gives goosebumps to Zoro for sure!

Law

Casper: Do they believe in ghost? Would they hunt for them? Do they believe in a life after death or are they down on the ground most of the time?

No, definitely, Law doesn’t believe in ghosts. He doesn’t really believe in anything from the supernatural area, mostly because of his scientist mind for sure. Of course, as everyone, he has sometimes wished to be able to see his family again, or Corazon, because it could have offered him a bit of comfort when his days were dark and clouded. But right now, as the grown-up edgy man he is, frankly, ghosts are nothing but stories. Even in a world like the one he lives in, he can’t allow himself to really have hopes in those beliefs. So he doesn’t care, and wouldn’t hunt for them. Surely, he has better things to do.

A life after death? If he’s not certain about it, at least it hopes it exists. Probably because he wishes to see the people he lost once more. He wants them to forever live pain-free, in a soothing world they will all deserve. But it’s only his personal hopes, and not something he will share with anyone.

Kill: What would be their most favorite way to kill someone? What is their method? Are they able to kill or would they get cold feet?

It really depends on the person, Law would avoid killing someone if he can. He doesn’t believe it’s necessary, especially with the power of the ope ope no mi he has. After all, he can remove organs and uses them to balckmail those people, so killing innocents, or pirates, just for the thrill to kill someone else? No, really not for him. He’s also a doctor, and it would be a contradiction for him to assassinate everyone on his path.

Though, for the people who hurt his loved ones, you better be sure that death can be on the menu. He prefers to come up with a long prepared plan rather than just rushing to kill that person. His emotions are honestly blinding his judgement, and his way of killing might be utterly brutal, depends on what the person for sure. So yes, Law can kill, Law will kill if he has a good reason - he’s still a pirate after all - but he’s not thirsty for blood and can definitely control his wrath.

Unexpected: What could really surprise them, what would be the most unexpected situations to spend Halloween for them?

Probably endind up trick and treating with any member of his crew or some allies like the Straw Hat, or just... celebratring Halloween in the first place. The real surprise would be that someone eventually find the good arguments to make his change his plans. He doesn’t want to go outside, he doesn’t want to party, he doesn’t want to put a costume on... If anyone manages to make him change his mind, well, that would be quite a feat here! After all, Law hates when things don’t follow his plan, and he’s not very comfortable when something breaks what he has anticipated for days, or weeks.

For sure... He’s afraid of the chaos Hallowen can be if he’s around the Straw Hat for example, quite sure that he would have the most stressful night of his entire life for sure!

[squidpro-quo]

For the prompt : Jaskier is kidnapped and used as leverage against Geralt (I'd be forever grateful if you did this op)

    Thank you so much for this prompt! A perfect opportunity for angst and whump and hurt and comfort, i can only hope i fit it all in here. This was a load of fun!

Jaskier strained against the rope tying his hands together, reminded of another time when the same circumstances had led to his life changing—he’d argue for the better most of the time—and now it might just happen again, except the change to his life will be that it ends. His fingers are turning numb, with how long he’d been held in the stone room it’s no wonder, only a question of how much longer until they figure out that it was all for naught. Bribing the innkeep, getting the herbs necessary to drug him, the fortified hold they’d decided to hole up in? It was all too much effort for a lost cause, but he’d kept his mouth shut for once knowing that if he spoke a word of the futility of their plan, then they’d have no reason to keep him alive anymore. 

    The door creaked; the sound of the key scraping in the old lock had him struggling to scramble as far away from the door as possible, his body protesting every movement even as he knew it wouldn’t help. They’d made up their mind. 

    “How’s the little songbird now? Ready to sing a sweeter song?” The man that entered had a grin with the curve of a sickle, sharp and cutting, to offset the fact that his lisp would have undercut any threats made in anyone else’s mouth. The sharp whistle of his breath through the cracked crags of his teeth accompanied his heavy steps and Jaskier bit back a retort about his singing’s quality in favor of staving off the inevitable by just a few seconds. 

    “No refrain? I’d heard it was hard to shut you up, not the other way around. Guess some things just end up embellished into lies, don’t they?” The look in his grey eyes grew hard.

    Jaskier knew what was coming, he might have found himself in trouble more times than he could count but he’d learned when to expect a punch by the set of a man’s shoulders. This time was no different. The blow caught him across the temple, leaving his ears ringing and the ache in his head redoubled after he’d just started to regain some peace from the pain. He slipped sideways down the wall, unable to catch himself when he couldn’t feel the stone beneath his fingers, to the hoarse laugh of the man he’d realized was the orchestrator of it all. Jaskier rested his forehead against the cool stone floor, hoping it would take away some of the pounding that he felt reverberating through his skull. Like metal clashing against metal, the clanging sounded deceptively close despite the fact that he knew it was only his tired mind playing tricks on him. 

    “Talk,” the man ordered, in a deceptively soft tone, forcing Jaskier to look up at him to read his lips and discern his meaning. “You can talk to that monster, but not to a human?”

“What do you want me to say?” Jaskier couldn’t hold his tongue any longer, though his own voice sounded muted and echoing inside his head. His fear had been a thin veneer before, but now it was being poked through with the usual thorns of irritation and the aching need to be glib. “That I haven’t seen him in months? That I don’t know where he is? That I doubt he knows, or really cares, where I am either? You didn’t understand it the last time I said it, but I guess the constant whistling can get in the way of listening comprehension.” 

“The entire continent knows you’re companions, traveling together, dining together… sleeping together,” the man raised his eyebrows, before continuing, “You know him better than anyone.” 

“Do I?” Jaskier swallowed, to get the dry taste of irony out of his mouth and to keep from retching at the way the world turned blurry before him. “If sleeping together was all it took, I’d have several dozen of those I’ve courted lining up at your doors. So I’d say you’re out of luck on that shaky limb of logic.”

It was a good joke, considering he’d likely die just from the surprise of Countess de Stael riding up so many months after leaving his poems as ash in her fireplace. Or Geralt, who last he’d seen was firmly in the arms of someone Geralt had risked his life for against all odds and against all wishes, her own included. Not that she’d seemed to mind at the end. 

“Is that a note of pity I hear?” 

“I can’t do many things, fight a murderous band of men for example, but I know when I’m not wanted. I don’t begrudge anyone that.” He didn’t, he loved freely and indiscriminately, pouring his affection into the world along with his quips and commentary as an inexhaustible resource. Because what better way to try and stay a memory in someone’s heart long after the flare of passion has gone cold. He couldn’t help it if Geralt had been a never-ending well for him to attempt to fill, not realizing how he’d fallen down into it in the process and the answer he’d been chasing had been merely his own deluded echo in return. 

“He might not come for you now then—” Jaskier had a brief moment of hope at the contemplative look on the man’s face, the sliver of mercy amidst the cold calculation. “But he’ll surely come for your headless corpse. If your songs have even a fraction of truth, he’s the sort to be mad about that kind of thing.” 

Cold ice slid down Jaskier’s spine, because the man was right. Geralt was nothing if not a righteous man, perhaps surly and grumpy to a fault, but he’d fight anyone that threatened the helpless, never mind that it happened to be Jaskier. He’d written songs about it after all, he’d know. Blood pounded in his ears, the sound seeming too loud in the confines of his terror and he could almost imagine the keep itself was resounding with it, the thump of his heartbeat bouncing through the walls in an irregular series of bangs. 

The man snatched his attention back when he slid his axe free of the belt at his waist, hefting it for a better grip and leaning down to yank Jaskier upright. 

“Wait! Wait, what if you just let me go? There’s a new idea, worth considering—”

“Don’t worry, if it really doesn’t matter who ends up dead as long as it’s someone he could’ve saved then we have an endless supply of who to use. As you’ve said, it doesn’t take anyone special,” the man said, rank breath wafting into Jaskier’s face, and he wished that wasn’t the last thing he’d ever hear. 

Axe shining in the flickering light of the torch, the man shoved Jaskier into the right angle despite his best efforts to scrounge together enough strength to resist. The man lifted his arm, already evident that he wouldn’t be able to make it one clean cut and didn’t particularly care, and swung. 

Jaskier had closed his eyes, content with the darkness if that’s all that was left of life anyway, and so the sound of wood breaking from close by and the short gurgle of a last breath was all he knew before there were hands on his face. 

Calloused, rough, and warm, familiar from the many years and he leaned into them so quickly they were all that held him up. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know, but he did anyway because he needed to see, to remember the sight of Geralt leaning over him, engulfing him in his shadow and tracing the bruises on his face with a touch so gentle he could’ve sworn it was a dream. 

“Jaskier,” just the rumbling timbre of Geralt’s voice was enough to make Jaskier realize that he’d been worried, chest heaving and sword bloodied from his rush through the keep. To him. 

“Cutting it pretty close, no?” Jaskier snorted, relief making him lightheaded. Relief that he wasn’t dead, that Geralt was there. “Did you get it? He was about to cut my head off, that  kind of death offers so many opportunities for pithy jokes. Would be a shame to waste it…” 

“I came as fast as I could,” Geralt said, tone not plaintive in the slightest but desperate, as if he thought Jaskier was really doubting him. As if he hadn’t been doing just that not a few minutes ago. 

Jaskier swallowed, this time to keep the words, all the damning and too honest words he wanted to bare before Geralt, down and keep what he’d been willing to carry to the grave with him just a while longer. 

Before he could find anything to say, Geralt pulled him close, palms brushing over his ruined doublet and down to Jaskier’s deadened hands, enveloping his fingers in a grip he could’ve sworn was trembling just slightly. His other hand slipped into Jaskier’s hair, until he felt the spot last touched by the man lying dead at their feet. 

Jaskier hadn’t meant to flinch but he saw the way Geralt’s eyes narrowed at the movement and tried to stand on his own to make up for the moment of weakness. 

“In the area, were you? I don’t think you’ll get much coin for this job.” He wanted to ask, wanted to see if he was more trouble than he was worth but he didn’t want to hear the ugly answer.

“I was already searching for you, when I heard.” Geralt’s hand stayed on his back, just like when he’d carried him around in the djinn’s aftermath. “Last time I saw you, you were covered in your own blood, like now. You left… and I didn’t know where you’d gone.” 

Jaskier stumbled, both from the way the room seemed to spin beneath his feet at the change in altitude as he got up and the fact that Geralt had followed him this time, sought him out and found him. 

“I got into yet more trouble, as you can see. Nothing new there.” He rubbed his newly freed hands and grimaced at the red welts the ropes had left behind. He’d have to wear his longer-sleeved wardrobe to cover those up. He looked up to find Geralt’s gaze still raking over him, the furrow in his brow the one that always formed when he was considering something. “Did you need something?”

“You shouldn’t be alone.” 

“W-what?” Jaskier stuttered. “What does that mean?”

“I’m trouble,” Geralt continued, looking like he was choosing his words carefully. “And you are too.”

    “Thank you for the astute observations… Where are you going with this?”

    “I already said it. That you shouldn’t be alone.” 

    Jaskier waited, but Geralt stared at him with the same set look on his face as when Roach gave him a neigh instead of a bump in the chest, unsure what to say. But words had always been Jaskier’s forte, even if he swallowed them down sometimes. 

    “Are you saying you think trouble loves company?”

    Geralt nodded, and that was enough for Jaskier. He’d never be empty of what he poured into the world, and so when something spilled into him instead, he overflowed. Geralt’s empty well might just have a bucket of water inside it, and he’d managed to fish it out after all. 

prompts open