#so it’s not strenuous or biting into my already busy week

[mycological-mariner]

Cool so I get to start training in a forge and welding and steam engine maintenance and fitting on weekends

[ww2yaoi]

several sentences sthursday

sorry, I'm late (I'm always late), but I was tagged by @ackackh and @youcalledmebabe to post some of my wip. thanks! <3 here's some of part 2 of my sledgeleckie

Monotonous working parties become field exercises, night problems, additional weapons training, and drills. On several occasions, King Company humps through Pavuvu’s humid jungle or marches for long stretches along the outer road that substitutes as a landing strip for Navy planes. Training proves hard with so many Marines packed so densely on the island’s mere 50 square miles. The lack of breathing room makes division-wide exercises nigh impossible, and the First and Fifth Marines all but train on top of one another between their cramped bivouac areas.  Eugene feels acutely claustrophobic. Pavuvu’s walls had already begun squeezing him from every side once his excitement at arriving in the Pacific wore off and the reality of his situation settled in. The only upside is the far-fetched possibility that he might run into Leckie on one of these exercises. On especially strenuous hikes, the thought of the veteran Marine is almost enough for Eugene to ignore the bug bites on his neck, his skull boiling beneath his sunlit helmet, the sweat pooling in the notches of his spine, the deep ache in his knees. Suffice it to say, he’s been too preoccupied with his platoon to visit Leckie at his library again. Leckie hasn’t sought Eugene out either, likely just as busy as he is — at least, that’s what Eugene would like to believe. That night at the beach feels like a dream to him now, one with hazy, unreal edges, the pearlescent sand beneath them bathed in impossible blue. When their downtime comes in the late afternoon before chow, Eugene lies in his rack and replays their conversation in his head, trying to pick out every instance where he might have embarrassed himself enough to turn Leckie away. No matter how many times he runs through it, he ends up with hot ears and a dangerous warmth in the well of his gut. One thing Leckie said keeps him from feeling discouraged, however: I’ll see you around, Sledge.

slowly working on this... everyone has probably been tagged, but since it's been like a week, I'll tag @randlemartin @sidleckie and anyone else who's working on stuff :P

[idontplaytrack]

Reader takes care of a stubborn sick Capri who doesn’t want to miss cheer practice

Capri finally got cleared to do cheer again after the incident however a week and a half into cheer practices she gets a cold

Sang it to you soft & sweet

Capri Donahue x fem! reader

Warnings: coarse language, fluff, mentions & some descriptions to Capri’s accident and injuries, tiny bit of angst

Capri couldn’t wait to get back to cheerleading, but life kicks her down when she’s already down.

The last ten weeks have been pure chaos. From Capri’s electrocution accident, to her near death experience, her coma and her waking up. You got no breaks, feeling all the emotions. You were exhausted, but so happy Capri got through it. You didn’t lose her. Your girlfriend was still here, with you. Capri was out of school for awhile and relied on you to get her assignments done. You helped her catch up, and she was doing just fine, as you’d expected her to be. She was always a bright student. Now, Capri was just…bored. She has been longing to get back on the tumbling track, get moving again like she used to. It felt like eons ago when she last got to be as active as she was. So she was feeling a little bit upset over it, her doctors have yet to clear her for strenuous physical activities like cheerleading following a prolonged hospital stay.

To her, the biggest surprise was coming out of the ‘freak accident’ and being alive. Doctors say that it wouldn’t have been possible given how she literally died following the electrocution. But since they knew her case and extent of how she was hurt, this was a what they called a miracle. And hey, they weren’t wrong. She was experiencing some after effects, but they weren’t the worst part of her recovery process. The worst, was her being diagnosed with PTSD following the incident. The flashbacks and nightmares leading to insomnia attacks, she was tired for a long time and it had only recently improved. Why? She finally gave in and agreed to start seeing a psychiatrist and got her started on the appropriate meds to control her symptoms.

“I’m boredddd.” Capri groans.

“I know, baby.” You bite back a sigh, hand on her thigh tentatively.

“It’s been weeks, why am I still not allowed to do anything?” She sulked, laying her head in your lap. You naturally started to play with her hair and braid it. She smiles at you for that.

“Baby, you’ve been through a major thing, you’re still getting a bunch of symptoms from the electrocution. They just wanna be careful and make sure you’re completely safe before they clear you for something as strenuous as cheer.”

The accident didn’t leave her any scars, but she was definitely dealing with a lot, still. Muscle spasms, headaches, loss of balance, random tingling sensations…she even had an irregular heartbeat for awhile. Technically, the worst part of it was over. But was it, really? You guys didn't know if she’d be dealing with any long term effects yet.

“Are you coming with me tomorrow? For my appointment?”

“Baby, of course I am.” You took her hand into your own, pressing a kiss to the back of it. She doesn’t respond verbally but a smile tugs at her lips. Before you could say anything else, Capri’s sister returned home from her lunch date with her husband.

“Hi, guys.”

“Hey, Lucca.” Capri greeted back without a sigh.

The older sister couldn’t help it but laugh. “Why are you just moping around? You guys can go to the mall or the park.”

“Already did.” You answered while Lucca walked over and sat down on the armchair.

“Anyway…you ready for your appointment tomorrow?”

“I’m nervous.” Capri admitted. “Also kinda sucks that Daddy can’t come with me too.”

“I know, honey. But y/n will be there, and me. Heck, even Jude if you want him to stay instead of just dropping us off. “We’ll keep Dad updated, alright? He knows, but he’s just—”

“On that business trip. I know, I know. He was scheduled for that since before I got hurt.”

————

Capri squeals, “God, I can finally start doing cheer again. Oh, I’m so excited.” You rubbed her back, arm eventually snaking around her waist protectively. Ever since she’s gotten discharged from hospital, you’ve become way more protective of her than she was of you. And damn, the girl made sure everyone knew that you were her girl. Her excitement was adorable, but you were quickly worried. About how she’d hold up at practice— that was tomorrow. You didn’t show it, of course. You couldn’t do that. You didn’t want to be a downer and ruin her mood. She was so happy.

The four of you went out to lunch to celebrate, then went home. The older couple had work, while you and Capri had school the next day. So, some downtime was definitely needed. Capri also called her Dad immediately to let him know the good news. It was always such a sweet thing to witness the bond between Capri and her Dad— she was such a Daddy’s girl. Her Dad was busy, but he always tried his hardest to spend as much time with her and Lucca as possible. He also treated you like another daughter of his, which was lovely.

Everything went back to pre-incident normalcy for a week. The next morning, Lucca and Jude dropped you both at school on their way to work. It was obvious Capri was in a better mood than usual lately. She was practically floating. Heck, she even said hi to Darby. As per every Tuesday’s schedule, you and Capri would be separated by classes for the first half of the day, only meeting up again at lunch. “Hi, baby.” You approached her, that smile on your face quickly fell.

Uh-oh. She wasn’t doing well.

“Capri, honey?” You sat her down, “What’s the matter?”

She avoided eye contact with you but there was no doubt that she seemed a little pale. Capri sneezes seconds later, giving you the confirmation you needed. “No cheer for you today.” You told her.

“Babe, I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t. I don’t want you to push yourself too hard.” You spoke, cupping her cheek to make her look at you. “Do you wanna go home?” She ponders over your question briefly, then nodded her head without a word. Ever since what happened, she was significantly less stubborn, knowing how terrible things could get if she didn’t take care of herself, if she wasn’t more careful. Since the school clearly knew about Capri’s situation, they allowed her some leniency in terms of leaving school early. So you were able to take her home, no problem. Even though she’d agreed to go home, you knew she was upset about it, having to miss cheer practice. “You know, the squad just practices no matter what. We’d never miss a session over a cold.”

You bit your lip, not saying anything for a bit. “I’m sorry, but— you need to be careful right now, your body’s still recovering and now you’re sick so if you push yourself even just a little bit too much, I’m scared, honey.”

“I get it.” Capri gives you a solemn nod, “I’ll rest, okay?”

Once back at her place, you got Capri upstairs and into her bed after she changed out of her current outfit into a more comfy one. “You wanna get some sleep?”

“No.”

“Capri.” You warned.

She pouted, “I’m not sleepy.” You climbed into bed and carefully laid yourself on top of her. Capri sighs, “Yeah, I can easily roll you over and you’d be on the floor.” She smirked too. As annoyed as you were that she was being a little difficult, you decided to play along for a bit.

“Oh, yeah? You’d let your baby fall to the ground and hit her head?”

“Anything’s possible with me, y/n. You should know that by now.” She chuckles, rubbing your back soothingly.

You smirked, asking her playfully, “So, I’m your baby?”

“Huh. Did I say that?” She teased.

“Fine.” You huffed, “Stay up, don’t sleep.” Capri was just amused. Why was it so hard for her to take a goddamn nap that she so clearly needed?

“What can I do so you’d agree to take a nap?” You asked, gazing up at her big brown eyes. “I could sing.”

“You could.” Capri grins.

“Sure.” You agreed, having just the song in mind.

When you were done, you realised Capri was staring at you. “Uh.” She sniffed, “Did you…did you sing me this song while I was in the coma?” You blinked profusely, “I did. I wrote it to kind of just process all of what I was feeling and then one day I just sat there and sang it to you, hoping it would do something.”

Now her eyes were glossed over and her lips were quivering as she presses a kiss to the top of your head, “I’m so sorry I put you through that, darling.”

“It’s not your fault.” You were swiftly feeling like crying as well, but you swallowed your tears. “I’m just glad you’re still here with me.” Capri continues rubbing your back in a soothing motion, “Anything’s possible with me, y/n.”

You chuckled tearfully, “I’m sorry for being so insistent that you rested. It’s just that after everything…I’m terrified that I would lose you again if something happened so I’m being so careful but it’s not helping you if I just stay afraid all the time because life still has to go on, I shouldn’t be stopping you from cheering.”

“I think it’s sweet you’re looking out for me like that…being so protective. But, I get you. It’s not easy, having to go through all the stages of grief, the shock, the helplessness, the anger, and then hearing that ‘oh, she’s alive! But…she’s in a coma’. What happened didn’t just affect…me. It affected so many people, my parents, my sister, my friends…you. I heard it all, the crying, the screaming…and baby, I am so grateful that you stuck by me. You didn’t need to, but you did. And honestly, you— you were what I was fighting for. I could never leave you, ever.”

“Get some rest, I’ll be right here with you.” You licked your lips, getting off of her and laying beside her instead.

She nodded, finally not fighting the sleepiness.

Your arm rests across her chest, palm patting her to sleep. “We’ll get you a dose of meds for the cold if you need it later, okay?”

“Okay.” She agrees quietly.

“I love you.” You told her.

“I love you too, darling.” Capri replies groggily, “I love you so much. Thank you…for everything you’ve been doing for me.”

“You are my one, you set my world on fire.

I know there’s heaven but we must be higher.

I’m gonna love you till my heart retires.

Forever will last.

I think it went something like that.”

🏷️Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartandstuff @pda128

💭A/N:

So…it became a bit of angst. Sorry😬 okay. G’night y’all. (Let’s pretend reader wrote that song for this fic✨)

[hypmic-writings]

Hi! I'd like to request a scenario of Doppo getting into a fight/discussion with his s/o but ending with fluff please,,

━━ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ━━

Pairing: Doppo Kannonzaka x reader

Genre: Angst to Fluff

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,323

A/N: Aww, this one was sweet but also painful because I never like to see Doppo be sad. It’s always fun to write make-ups though, so I hope you enjoy~

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

“Welcome home,” you called out to Doppo as he walked through the door. You barely got a response save for a resigned grunt as Doppo passed you and trudged into the kitchen.

You bit back a sign of frustration as you rubbed your temples slowly.

It was clear that Doppo worked hard. You both knew that his job was strenuous and that he often had to sacrifice quite a bit in order to live up to his manager’s expectations, but it was getting to a point that was a little ridiculous. You had barely been able to see Doppo this past week, let alone sit him down and just spend some quality time together.

Whenever he would come home, you would try to ask him about his day or ask him to sit with you, but he would simply take a few bites of dinner and then head right to bed. His days were long and he was clearly exhausted, but it was beginning to affect you too.

Of course, you had your own work and your own life outside of your relationship, but if you weren’t even able to cuddle with your boyfriend before bed or even just sit him down and talk about his day…was there even really a relationship?

“Hey…long day?” you tried again, as Doppo walked back into the kitchen. He had taken off his tie and loosened a few buttons on his shirt, but the bags under his eyes were heavy and it looked as though he hadn’t slept in weeks.

“Always,” he mumbled, plopping down into a chair at the table and reaching for the leftovers you had re-heated for him. There was a pause, and while Doppo was debating falling asleep on the table, you were debating bringing up your concerns.

“Can we talk? It’ll just be a short one, I promise,” you said, sliding into the chair beside him and leaning over to take his hand in your own. He gave you a blank look but then his shoulders slumped.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but I’m just really exhausted. Maybe we can talk on Thursday? I have a day off on Friday…even though I’ll have to go into the office anyway to catch up…” he trailed off getting lost in thought.

“I just think we should talk. You’ve been really tired and busy lately and we haven’t had time together, even just to sit on the couch and cuddle,” you told him, feeling guilty and needy, but wanting your thoughts to be known. Letting feelings fester was never a good thing.

“I know and I’m sorry, but I’m just really busy at the office right now,” Doppo mumbled.

“You’re always busy with the office,” you said, immediately wishing you could take your words back. Doppo glanced at you with a confused look.

“Y/N, you know how hard my work can be. The hours are so long and I always have to stay late because sometimes I start projects and then I can’t finish them on time and then my boss starts to get mad at me and he sends me all these daunting emails and sometimes I think he might end up firing me because I’m so useless at my job and then – ”

“Doppo, stop. Please,” you said, pulling him out of his spiraling. “I’m just saying I wish you had more of a work-life balance, that’s all,” you told him, shrugging a little bit. You didn’t want to be resentful or sound angry, but you couldn’t help the tiredness flow into your words. Doppo froze for a moment but then slowly pulled his hands away from yours.

“I don’t have that luxury,” he said, almost sadly. “I thought you knew that,” he added, his words sending a knife into your heart.

“I know that, of course I do,” you started, but Doppo was already on his feet. “Wait, where are you going?” you called out as he began to walk away.

“I’m tired. I think I’m going to go to bed early tonight,” Doppo replied, slowly as he walked towards the bedroom. Your hand was practically out to reach for him, but he was turned away and without reading his expression, you didn’t know how to react. So you stayed in your seat, groaning into your hands as Doppo prepared for bed.

You hadn’t meant for the conversation to go like that, but somewhere inside of you, you could feel the chasm between you and Doppo grow just a tiny bit more.

*  *  *

You turned the key into the door before pushing it open, the cool air of your apartment a blessing from the burning summer heat outside. As you closed the door though, you realized that the TV was on and playing the nightly news. It was rare for you to ever forget to turn the TV off so you quickly walked into the living room in confusion, only to be met by your boyfriend sitting on the couch.

“Doppo?” you said, unable to process how, at only 7pm, Doppo was home from work and sitting on your couch. At the sound of his name, he jumped a bit in surprise, but stood up when he saw that it was you.

“Y/N,” he said, quickly muting the TV and walking over to you.

“Why are you home? Is everything okay? Did something happen?” you asked, concerned. You hadn’t gotten to see Doppo that morning before he left for work, and he hadn’t texted you anything all day so you were surprised to find him here.

“Everything’s fine,” he said, a small, almost shy smile, appearing at his lips. “I left work early so that we could spend some time together,” he admitted. Your eyes widened and you took a step back.

“Wait, Doppo. I know what I said last night, but I didn’t mean to pull you away from your work. I know how important that is to you. If you want to go back and work for a few more hours, that’s okay with me, I don’t want you to get in trouble,” you stammered, frantically, already feeling guilty. Doppo reached out and placed his hand on your arm softly.

“It’s okay. I’ll make up the work tomorrow or on Friday,” he said, stepping closer to you. “You said that we needed to talk and yesterday I didn’t listen to you. I…I’m sorry, Y/N,” Doppo said, his eyes wide and puppy-dog like.

“Doppo, I was never mad at you, I was just afraid you were overworked and…also I missed having you around the house. It was selfish of me to try to pull you away from your job. I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean to make you choose,” you admitted, slightly embarrassed.

“You didn’t make me choose, Y/N,” he insisted. “I’ve been working a lot more than usual and I know that hasn’t been fair for you. I’m not the best at…communicating, it’s hard for me sometimes. I want to keep doing my job well, but I want to make time for you too. And even if I did have to choose, I would choose you,” Doppo said, his cheeks turning slightly pink. His words made your guilt wear away and you allowed yourself to smile lightly.

“Personally, I still think 7pm is too late,” you teased, stepping closer to him and kissing his nose. Doppo frowned.

“But you’re coming home at this time too,” he pointed out, making you smile sheepishly. “Maybe you’re the one that needs to stop working so hard,” he said with a chuckle. You waved him off and pulled him back down to the couch where he was previously sitting.

“We can talk about it more later, but for now, no more work talk. Let’s just spend some time together while we can,” you said, snuggling closer into him as you sighed happily. Doppo wrapped his arm around your shoulder and nodded.

“That sounds perfect.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[raelly-writing]

Comfort - Thancred/fWoL

Some indulgent post-5.5 Part 1 fluff.

Nudity and some very tired adults being a bit flirty, but nothing NSFW or smutty in of itself.

----

“Did you ask for this?”

“In so many words, I suppose,” Thancred chuckled. The dull thud of the door being shut behind them was followed by the soft clang of him setting down their gunblades in a stand by it.

The wooden tub standing in his room was large enough to comfortably fit an elezen - or two hyurs. Lazy swirls of steam rose from the water, carrying with it a soft herbal scent that was oddly soothing after such a long and hectic day in an arid climate. On top of a stool was a pile of towels already laid out along with soaps. Thancred’s hand pressed into the space at the small of her back between her cuirass and belts as he came to stand next to her. Letting her breath rush out in a slow exhale, she turned her head to look at him.

Though there was a faint smile playing on his lips, there was no denying the fatigue etched into the lines around his eyes, the effect magnified by the smears of dirt clinging to his skin. Not that it was unexpected - even with that brief rest he’d had, he and Urianger had gone from Garlemald nearly straight onto the battlefield in Paglth’an.

“Remind me to thank Tataru then,” she spoke softly. Merely raising her hand to brush her fingers along the back of his neck made her muscles scream in protest as every scrape and bruise from the day made themselves known loud and clear. Sweat and dust had matted his hair, and it was tempting to run her fingers through it and try to untangle some of the knots.

Rather than pulling at her, Thancred stepped closer to her side, his hand light as he let it slide to rest on her hip. Viana turned into his embrace, eager for the contact, and let her eyes fall shut as she rested her cheek against his hair. Gods, she was so tired. It was tempting to just find the nearest soft horizontal surface and lay down to hide in the oblivion of sleep for a few precious bells.

“I’ll make sure to accidentally misplace a box of her favourite sweets in her desk’s drawer,” Thancred murmured against her neck.

Viana huffed out a short, weary laugh and nodded slowly. “That sounds good.”

The turmoil in her chest settled ever so slightly under the comforting weight of his arms around her waist. After the chaos of the day, the stillness of the room settled like a comforting blanket around them. The relief to finally be alone together, with no need to keep up their professional distance in front of the others was palpable. They leaned into each other, like the other was the only thing still keeping them on their feet.

Thancred’s slow breaths tickled her skin, his arms tight around her like he didn’t want to let go anytime soon. Viana idly brushed her fingers through his hair, earning a pleased sigh from him as he buried his face against her neck. The immediate feeling that he’d missed her made warmth creep up over her cheeks while a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

But it was hard to hold onto the momentary mirth. With her every breath, the scent of smoke and dry sand, blood, sweat and aether filled her nose, suffocating all but the faintest traces of his cologne that still managed to break through here and there. The bitter taste of helplessness that was all too familiar on her tongue, still lingered, her heart heavy knowing that there was nothing they could do to help Arenvald. A deep sigh made her shoulders slump further.

She hated this… the unknown, half expecting bad news to arrive at any moment, all while hoping for something good but not daring to think too much of it. She’d had enough of this feeling for a lifetime while they’d all been lying comatose in the infirmary, their souls on another world with no guarantee they’d be able to return.

Gods, Arenvald was still too young. Too hopeful...

“He’ll pull through,” Thancred said firmly, as though he knew where her thoughts were straying. “The lad’s strong. And too stubborn.”

Again, she nodded while making a low noise of acknowledgment at the back of her throat. “I hope so.”

He squeezed her waist, and they slowly untangled themselves from each other. “Come now,” he said with a quiet, comforting tone, “let’s get cleaned up.”

Taking a deep breath, she mustered a smile and leaned down to brush her lips to his. Despite what he said, Thancred quickly cupped the back of her head, holding her in place for a longer, firmer kiss that made her feel all the weeks he’d been away in Garlemald as keenly as a dragon smacking her into a rock wall. Thancred’s arm grew tighter around her waist, her heart fluttering in her chest as she all but melted into his embrace once more.

“There,” he murmured against her lips with a low, satisfied voice. “Missed that while in Garlemald.”

Laughing under her breath, Viana nuzzled her nose against his. “I missed you too,” she replied as she began to push his coat off his shoulders.

Thancred made a curious sound deep in his throat while standing still for her. “Oh, do tell, my dear” he drawled, his warm voice pitching down into a familiar rumble that had definitively haunted her dreams more than once while he’d been gone. Despite it, she could tell from the lack of its usual heat that it was more a jest than a serious suggestion - merely the comfort of familiar banter.

With a thoughtful hum, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll tell you,” she teased while stepping away from him, with his coat in her hands. “Later.”

Thancred’s low chuckle made her chest feel warm as he followed to where she could hang up his coat on a hook. Even with her armour in the way, there was something reassuring about the weight of his hand on the small of her back as he leaned against her. “I look forward to it,” he rumbled, but then reached up to begin easing her jacket off her shoulders.

Viana stood still and let him help her out of it, failing to bite back a wince at some of the twinges of sore muscles. “Thank you, love.”

“Hrrm, always do enjoy helping you out of your clothes,” he muse, but then instantly grunted and paused halfway to hanging up her jacket. “That sounded terrible.”

Viana laughed under her breath as she began removing one of her vambraces. “I think you’re excused of any lack of eloquence today.”

The weight of his hand returned to her hip, pulling her back around to face him. “Suppose we should save any strenuous activities for when we’re not so banged up,” he sighed while he busied himself with the clasps on her cuirass.

There was a thoughtful wrinkle between his brows, and she just barely resisted the urge to lean down and press a kiss to it. She had missed him, a lot, but as enjoyable as the thought was, the mere notion of anything but rest made her entire tense up in objection. No, all she wanted right now was to soak in a hot bath with him. Then have some food. Maybe a nap, if the time allowed it, before the inevitable discussions would begin of what the Scions should do next. “Probably best, yes.”

It was a relief to feel the pressure lighten around her body. The stiff leather sections had been pressing against and rubbing over what she was sure was large bruises and portions of skin still raw and sensitive from healing magic. While it was hardly the heaviest armour she’d worn, it was a relief nonetheless to be rid of the weight. Just as he eased it off her, a twinge of pain in her shoulder made her wince and tense up.

A concerned frown immediately darkened his features. “Does it still hurt?” he asked as he raised a hand to gently touch it.

Mustering a reassuring smile, Viana took her cuirass from his hand and set it aside. “It’s just a little stiff,” she replied, “Alphinaud said it’d probably be the case.”

“Hrrm… who knew fighting dragons in narrow canyons would lead to some scuffling,” he muttered. He began to undo the clasps on his own cuirass, but she firmly nudged away his hands.

“Here, let me,” she murmured.

He looked like he was about to object, but then he sighed with fond resignation and turned his attention to his vambraces instead. A comfortable silence settled over them as they continued helping each other out of their remaining gear, setting aside bags and potion satchels to be refilled later. They were both covered in dust and more than a few armour pieces seemed in need of repairs after too close calls with snapping jaws and sharp claws, or glancing blows from magitek arms, but for now, they just piled it all up in one place. They could deal with it later.

With a tired groan, Thancred finally tugged off his undershirt. Frowning, Viana brushed her fingers over the yellowed bruise still visible at his flank. Urianger’s magic had sped up the healing process to the point that it looked days old, but it was still large and nasty looking, with splotches of purple still visible.

“I’m fine,” he spoke up before she had a chance to voice her concern.

Viana glanced up to meet his gaze. “‘Looks worse than it is’, hm?”

Hells, fighting dragons in wide open areas was bad enough, but such large creatures had made the narrow ravines of Paglth’an seem even smaller. It had scared her half to death when a dragon had suddenly swung around to face attacks from somewhere else, and the wide arc of its tail had caught him off guard.

Thankfully it hadn’t been with full force, or he would have had more severe injuries to show for it.

Her glum thoughts were interrupted by Thancred leaning up to press a kiss to her jaw, his fingers already pleasantly distracting as they slipped under her shirt to dance up her sides. “Arms up, darling,” he hummed.

With a small, tired laugh she obeyed. “As you wish, ser.”

“Mmhm, I thought we agreed on saving that for later,” he chided while carefully pulling her shirt off, making sure not to jostle her bruised shoulder in the process.

“My apologies,” she chuckled, “couldn’t help it.”

Thancred gave her a crooked smile, but it faltered and turned more sombre as he gave her own bruises a critical onceover. Raising his hand, he let it gently rest over the worst one on her hip before pressing a lingering kiss to the slope of her neck. The simple gesture spoke volumes in of itself, and a comfortable affection warmed her chest as she brushed her fingers along the back of his neck and turned her head to press a kiss to his hair.

Bearing the brunt of their enemies’ ire was a burden they shared, but it did little to lessen the pain of seeing the other injured in any manner.

His hand skimmed over her waist, a small, careful tug urging her along towards the tub. They lingered together as they moved, exchanging small, brief kisses while they let their remaining clothes fall wherever they landed on the floor.

“Easy there,” Thancred murmured as he held her hand while she stepped into the tub.

Viana chuckled to mask the pleased noise threatening to rise from her throat - the water was just the right temperature, promising to soothe and relax every dull ache in her body. Mindful of her shoulder, she carefully settled down at one end of the tub. Thanks to the high edge, the water came up to her collarbones, fully enveloping her in the warmth. Immediately, it was like the last of her energy fled her body. Leaning back against the edge, her eyes fell shut as her breath rushed out in a sigh.

“Well, you sound quite pleased.”

Cracking open an eye, she gave Thancred an appreciative once over as he fished out a small canister from the water. The fire shards within clattered when he casually set it aside on the floor.

“Join me, and I’ll be even more so,” she replied with a little smile.

Thancred hummed and eyed her with an amused spark in his eyes. “I wasn’t planning on standing around in the nude.”

“Well, when you put it like that I suppose I wouldn’t complain about the view if you did,” she laughed and drew her legs close to her chest to give him room as he settled down on the other end, facing her.

A low, warm laugh rose from Thancred’s chest ebbed out in a satisfied sigh of his own as he leaned back. Viana watched fondly as his eyes drifted close and his entire body relaxed into the water with his deep exhale.

The muffled sounds of the bustle outside from Revenant’s Toll was a reassuring murmur in the background, but it did nothing to disrupt the comfortable silence that settled around them. Thancred’s chest rose with slow, even breaths, his head tilted slightly to the side. He must be more worn out than he’d let on.

Viana’s hand found his shin under the water and brushed her fingers up and down in an idle caress. “Tired?”

He blinked his eyes open and shot her a crooked smile. “Don’t worry, I’m not about to fall asleep on you,” he drawled.

She raised an eyebrow as an amused smile spread on her lips. “You say that now, love, but you seem quite fond of using me as your pillow,” she teased gently.

Leaning forward, he loosely grasped one of her ankles and pulled her foot back to him. “And I have very much missed doing so while away,” he replied with a dramatic sigh. “Most dreadful change of pace, having to sleep on the cold, hard ground while using my pack as a pillow once more. These old bones of mine can’t handle it anymore.”

Laughing, Viana started to respond, but his nimble fingers began to press into the arch and heel of her foot, and there was absolutely nothing she could do to bite back a deep groan at the sensation. “Oh Hells,” she breathed, eyelashes fluttering. before her eyes slid shut with a content hum

The comfortable silence was only broken by Thancred’s quiet chuckle. While being crammed into the tub together maybe wasn’t the most comfortable of places, with the warm water and long day at her back, and Thancred slowly soothing the dull aches, it felt like a real, tangible risk that she’d fall asleep right on the spot.

How long it was until he, with another firm swipe of his thumb up the length of her foot that coaxed a long groan from her, at last switched to her other foot, she didn't know.

“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you.”

Viana huffed out a laugh - she didn’t need to look at him to know there was a self satisfied tilt to his smile. For a moment, she struggled against the warm, haze that’d laid itself over her mind to find the energy to speak, but finally she murmured, “Didn’t know you knew how to do this.”

“Hmmhm, I am a man of many talents.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Leaning her arm on the edge of the tub, she rested her cheek against her hand and opened her eyes to regard him. It was nice to see him so relaxed and at ease.

“Glad it hasn’t escaped your notice,” he drawled with a wink.

In a fit of juvenile playfulness, she wiggled her toes at him. Thancred snorted and gave one a little tug, coaxing a squeak from her.

His smile was infectious, mirth dancing in his brown eyes. All at once, she felt keenly aware of how her heart and mind felt so much lighter in his presence compared to the weeks that had passed since he’d left for Garlemald. How strange that they’d spent years knowing each other, yet it was just now that being apart made it feel like she’s missing a part of herself. Or had that sensation always been there before his soul had been ripped away to the First, and she’d just been too damned stubborn to acknowledge how much she missed him whenever their duties sent them in different directions?

“What’s on your mind?”

His question stirred Viana from her thoughts. Carefully, she pulled her foot from his grip. Thancred paused, his searching, questioning look softening when she shuffled to her knees. Any other day, when her muscles didn’t scream in protest at the effort of her movements, the appreciative sweep of his gaze following the trickle of water down her body would have sent a familiar heat curling through her veins.

Instead, she leaned forward, weight braced on the hand that wouldn’t upset her injured shoulder, and caught his lips in a chaste, tender kiss.

“Viana-,” he whispered against her lips, before his wet hand curled over the back of her neck, fingers pressing gently against the back of her skull. His other hand gave her waist a small pull, and with some shifting about, she soon reclined with her back against his chest and his arms around her. Viana tilted her head back to meet him when he nuzzled her cheek, the faint rasp of his stubble tickling her skin, then trailed a few lingering kisses to the slope of her shoulder. “We should probably get washed up, hm?” he murmured into her ear.

They probably should. Food was bound to be ready for them soon, with others coming calling for them. But she had no wish to move - she’d missed his embrace too much. Viana covered one of his hands with her own and raised the other to touch his cheek, then turned her head to press a kiss to his jaw. “I think we can afford to linger for a little while longer.”

Thancred made a quiet sound of acknowledgement, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles in her skin. “Then let’s do so.”

[shadow-assassin-blix]

A Picture is a Poem without Words

Chapter 13

A/N: Canon typical violence. Some spice at the beginning but nothing too detailed. I rewatched ep 2x06 and realized that Marta’s husband is named Diego. For the purpose of this fic, and to create less confusion, I have called him Antony. Dress is number 10 found here.  Gif from @scntacruz 

Pacho tags: @yungkvte @mcrmarvelloki

Everything tag: @mikeisthricedeceased

It had been 3 days since Blix had woken up. She had gone through her antibiotics and was now able to move a bit more freely.

The stitches were going to be removed today, and she couldn’t wait for it. The stitches were itching terribly.

When the doctor finally arrived, she was practically bouncing in her seat. It didn’t take him long to remove the stitches, with a small warning of ‘don’t do anything too strenuous.’

He left a moment later, and Blix spent a few minutes gently stretching. It was about 10am and Pacho had briefly left to go give his men some orders for the day. He came back in as Blix was about to stand up.

Pacho moved over to her, slowly. He stood before her, his hands cupping her face. He leaned down kissing her firmly and passionately.

She kissed him back with as much as enthusiasm. She started to lay back down onto the bed, her hands gripping his silk shirt tightly as she pulled him down. Pacho pressed his body against hers, and one hand moving down her body, while his other buried itself into her hair.

“I believe you mentioned something about spending the day between my legs?” Blix murmured against his lips.

“I did indeed. I plan on doing exactly that. Cleared my schedule and everything,” Pacho joked lightly as he moved down to press kisses to her neck, nipping here and there.

Blix giggled lightly at that, a moan escaping her mouth as he bit a particularly sensitive area.

He paid intense attention to that spot, as his hand slipped under her cotton shorts. His hand slid past her panties, his fingers running up and down her slit.

She moaned lightly at his teasing, her hips jerking up wanting more. They removed their clothes with some urgency, the both of them sliding under the covers.

The two of them spent most of the day either chasing their highs or simply lying next to one another, enjoying each other’s company.

The next day rolled around and the two of them finally untangled themselves from each other. They showered and dressed, before heading downstairs.

Gilberto & Miguel were downstairs waiting for them discussing next steps.

“Ah. Blix, lovely to see you moving about more freely. I hope you are feeling better?” Gilberto greeted her cheerfully.

“Yes, much better. What are our plans?” Blix asked them as they walked into the dining room to have breakfast.

The four of them sat down to eat and talk. As Blix made her plate, Diego appeared next to her, and after quickly kissing her head, he sat down next to her.  Blix smiled softly at him, telling him good morning.

Gilberto began to explain his thoughts to Pacho about next steps, as Blix checked her phone for missed calls. Upon seeing there was nothing there, she placed it on the table and listened to Gilberto.

“… Mrs. Moncada has reached out to Don Berna. I suspect she is attempting to make as many allies as possible to hurt Escobar. We will let her do whatever she pleases. Our priorities will be taking over his production lines and starve him of money,” Gilberto informed them.

“Where do we begin with that?” Blix asked him curiously.

“We’ve already begun. We are taking out his production sites, starting with the ones Mrs. Moncada informed us about to the ones Escobar doesn’t think we know about,” Miguel spoke up.

She nodded her head in understanding, glancing down at her phone when she saw it was going off. She answered it, standing up and strolling into the living room.

“Hey Javi, what’s up?” She greeted.

“We have a new colonel. Martinez. And the ambassador has insisted that DEA have an overseer. Messina. The ambassador is not too happy with any of the agencies currently. I would suspect he will be reaching out to you soon to bitch at you, just so you’re aware,” Javier warned her.

“Good to know.  What’s Martinez like?” She asked him.

“An ass. Extremely by the book. I have never felt more frustrated with Search Bloc. Hell, I’ve never felt more frustrated in general. I… hmm. I have a terrible idea that may bite me in the ass later but… if it means Escobar goes down,” Javier said in an exasperated tone.

“What do you have planned Javi? Please don’t do anything stupid,” Blix begged him softly.

She knew from experience that Javier would have half-assed plans that usually ended up with him being in all sorts of trouble.

“I’m going to reach out to some CIs and go from there. That’s all you need to know. I’m not going to risk your career by telling you too much,” Javier’s voice lowered as he spoke.

“Javi…” Her tone turned admonishing.

“Anyway, when you find yourself back over in Bogota let me know. We can go on that date,” Javier stated somewhat loudly.

“Do not use me as your cover,” Blix growled at him, hearing chatter in the background.

“Yeah, see ya soon sweetie,” He ignored what she said and hung up.

“That motherfu-” She groaned staring down at her phone.

Blix sighed heavily, as she pocketed her phone, and running a hand down her face in frustration.

She returned to the dining room, re-taking her seat. The brothers had continued to talk out their plans with Pacho and she half listened to them. Blix was far too distracted to fully pay attention.

Halfway through one of Gilberto’s explanations his phone rang, and he answered it excitedly.

“Good morning Marta, light of my life. What can I do for you?” Gilberto greeted.

He listened to her for a moment, before passing the phone to Blix.

“She apparently wants to speak to you,” He stated as he held it to her.

Blix took the phone, “Hello Marta. What’s up?”

“Hi. I need help. We moved up the wedding and I am freaking out over what to do. My mothers are driving me nuts and I cannot stand their opinions no more. Please help,” Marta sounded close to tears as she spoke.

“Okay. Tell me where you are and I’ll be there,” Blix said calmly as she stood up again.

“I’m at my father’s favorite home, thank you so much,” Marta vaguely explained, hanging up.

“Uhh. Okay. Gilberto? Which of your 10 mansions do you consider your favorite?” Blix asked him as she placed his phone on the table.

“Navegante will take you. I assume it has to do with her wedding plans?” Gilberto waited for her nod. “I assumed so. She has been panicking over the plans for the past week.”

“Vagueness runs in the family I see. ‘Kay. Just gonna go grab my bag I guess… as I’m led to an unspecified location. Not like that ever turns out terribly for anyone in a horror movie,” Blix mumbled as she made her way upstairs to grab her bag and some shoes.

Blix, after grabbing her things, stepped outside and got into the waiting vehicle that held Navegante and Maurice.

It took about an hour and a half for them to get there. Blix stared up at the house with an eyebrow raised as she took in the grand home.

“This man…is ridiculous…” Blix said quietly, shaking her head.

Blix strolled up to the front door, smiling at Marta who was waiting for her.

“Alright. What’s wrong?” Blix asked her as they stepped in.

“So, a great deal of it is taken care of, but so many small details need to be taken care of,” Marta began leading her to the backyard porch, to a table that was covered in books and samples.

The two of them tackled each item: place settings, decorations, dresses, accessories and the like. The entire process took about 4 hours to get everything decided and ordered.

“Now, what else do we need to do?” Blix questioned her as they finished up.

“Well. I was hoping… would you be willing to sing our first dance song?” Marta quietly requested.

“You want me to sing… for your wedding?” Blix clarified, staring at her surprised.

“Yeah.  I love the way you sing. Plus, I’m sure Pacho would love to hear you sing as well,” Marta teased lightly.

Blix shook her head at that, before replying, “I’ll sing one song. That’s it.”

Marta squealed happily and hugged her, yelling, “Thankyou!Thankyou!”

Later that week, while at Pacho’s place, the news reported the first murder committed by Los Pepes.

Blix quietly listened to the news report, glancing at the men around her who appeared unbothered by the grisly murder.

Blix slipped outside, as she called Javier. However, there was no answer, which said to her that he knew she’d be upset with what had happened and was avoiding her.

Over the next several weeks, Los Pepes became embolden and were murdering Escobar’s men left and right.

Gilberto drew the line when the latest macabre display took place at a Christmas light show, where small children saw the scene.

Gilberto attempted to reach out to Judy Moncada to talk to her and Don Berna about the murders. To tell them to tone them down.

Unfortunately, they no longer cared about the Cali Cartel; they were focused on exacting their bloody revenge on Escobar.

Blix spent most of that time helping Marta with wedding plans and getting the venue ready. The wedding was this weekend, and time was of the essence.

Marta insisted that everyone get their hair and nails done the morning of the wedding. Pacho, who was not expecting guests at 6am, stared at the bride to be with some confusion when she appeared in the doorway of his bedroom.

“Hello uncle! Can you please make sure Blix is up and downstairs in 15mins? We have a busy day today!” Marta said cheerfully.

Pacho raised an eyebrow at her, before glancing down at Blix who was buried in his blankets and pillows, Diego laying half on top of her.

“Was she aware of these plans beforehand?” Pacho inquired as he looked back at Marta.

Marta gave him a toothy smile, before disappearing.

“That’s a no,” Pacho answered to himself.

“My love? My beautiful shark? You have to wake up,” He gently spoke, kissing her shoulder.

“….why? wedding not until tonight?” Blix grumbled, shaking her head.

“I know but… Marta made plans apparently… and she’s downstairs waiting for you,” Pacho informed her, pulling the pillow she tried to hide under away from her.

Blix lifted her head up, eyes blearily staring at him.

“What do you think would happen if I said no?” Blix asked him, turning her gaze to the doorway.

“Marta would be upset, and cry which would then upset Gilberto and he would make you go through with it anyway using threats,” Pacho answered.

“… so my chances are good?” Blix questioned jokingly.

Pacho chuckled, “Get up. It won’t be that terrible. I’ll see you later on.”

Blix quietly crawled out from under Diego, who had flopped onto her back at some point during the night. Blix learned very quickly that Diego was the kind of person who very rarely slept in one spot all throughout the night and very much like to spread out and take as much of the bed possible.

Blix, who was crawling over Pacho to get out bed, mumbled, “This better not be terrible, or you are making this up to me.”

“I had already planned on it. I look forward to seeing you in the dress Marta picked for you. She says it’s quite… salacious,” Pacho teased her, kissing her on the cheek.

Blix simply rolled her eyes and changed out of her night clothes into some shorts and a tank top, with some flipflops. She wasn’t going to get overly dressed up for a day of hair and makeup. She stepped into the bathroom, brushing her hair and teeth. As she walked downstairs, she clipped on her shark necklace.

Marta smiled at her and said, “Good morning! We are going to have a wonderful morning and then tonight is going to be amazing!”

Blix smiled softly at her, still trying to wake up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

The next several hours were a whirlwind of hair, nails, and makeup. By the time, they were ready to put on the dresses, it was late in afternoon/almost evening and Blix was exhausted. They had arrived at the venue and were doing last minute preparations.

Blix had finally put on the dress that Marta insisted she wear, with red pumps to match. She stared at bejeweled bodice of it that had a nude material backing it to give it some modesty. The dress itself was made to fit her like a glove, so even without proper shoulder straps it was able to stay in place.

Her hair had been done up in a high bun, her makeup as bold as the dress.

“Marta, I thought all eyes were supposed to be on you? Not on me looking like I stepped out of a romance novel?,” Blix lightly joked.

“Ahh. The beauty of it is though… if all eyes are on you no one will pay attention if me and Antony slipped away for some alone time,” Marta whispered conspiratorially.

Blix chuckled at that, “I see. I’m the distraction.”

Marta nodded, causing the two of them to giggle some more. Marta turned and looked at herself in the mirror in her wedding gown, nervously running her hands over the material.

“What’s up?” Blix asked her, standing beside her.

“The wedding jitters everyone warned me about. I always thought I wouldn’t get them, because I love Antony so much. But I am feeling them now,” Marta responded, trying to take a deep breath.

“I’d say that’s pretty normal. This is a big step in your life. It’s not an easy one to take. No one would blame you if you decided to postpone. That boy worships the ground you walk on, and if you said you wanted to wait, he would do it. So, tell me. Do you want to wait, or do you want to go marry the man you love?” Blix posed the question to her, smile on her face.

Marta took a moment to calm herself before smiling and nodding at the mirror, “I don’t want to wait.”

“Alright then, I’m going to go take me seat. I’ll see you out there honey,” Blix stated as she stepped out into the hallway.

Gilberto stood nearby, waiting to walk her down the aisle.

“Hey, give her a minute. The wedding jitters have hit her. She may need some words of encouragement too,” Blix said to him, stopping in front of him.

“Ahh. I had a feeling they would hit her soon enough. I’ll go check on her,” Gilberto replied with a knowing smile. “Blix. If I may say so, you look beautiful. I get the feeling you are going to knock Pacho off his feet.”

Blix smiled, feeling her cheeks warm up as she made her way into the main hall. Her seat was next to Pacho near the front. She made her way down the aisle, spotting Pacho with Miguel and Antony.

Miguel was the first to notice her, and nudged Pacho on the arm, motioning to look her way. Pacho turned to look at her and stared at her in awe.

“Hi. We should probably take our seats, it should be starting soon,” Blix noted, as she got near them.

Pacho quietly led her to their seats, his eyes roving up and down her figure. He eventually leaned over, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“You look like a goddess in this dress. I cannot wait to see what it looks like on the floor as I worship you tonight,” Pacho whispered into her ear. “Who knows? I may not even wait till then.”

Blix cleared her throat softly, turning to meet his gaze. She gently gave him a kiss on the lips and whispered for him to behave.

He smirked at that, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, keeping her close to him.

The ceremony began 15 minutes later and lasted for about an hour. Pacho noticed during the ceremony, that Blix was not one who cried easily; many got teary eyed during the vows. He noted at one point that she had looked down at her own left hand, her gaze blank. He desperately wanted to know what was running through her mind, but knew he wasn’t going to get an answer anytime soon.

He reached over and held her hand in his, while the ceremony continued.

When it was over, they all headed to the reception to celebrate.

Miguel was the last family member to give a speech. Pacho looked around trying to find Blix, who had disappeared a few minutes after they had arrived.

“Good evening everyone,” Came her voice on the microphone. “For those of you who don’t know, my name is Blix. I am a friend of Marta’s.”

Everyone turned their attention to her, as she stood on the dance floor directly in front of the bridal party.

“A few weeks ago, Marta asked me a very important question. She asked me if I could sing the first song of the night. I agreed on the condition that I got to choose the song. She was a bit… hesitant to say the least. In fact, I had to bargain with her… a trait I am most definitely positive she got from you Gilberto,” Blix joked.

Several people chuckled, as Gilberto stared at his daughter with pride, pressing a kiss to her head.

“Per her request, she got to choose what I am wearing, hence why I look I belong in a telenovela or a romance novel,” She gestured to her dress with a wave of her hand. “And I get to choose the song to start our evening.”

Blix looked back toward the band who gave her a thumbs up to say they were ready to go. Antony, who knew what the song was going to be, led Marta to the dancefloor. Blix took up a spot in front of the band, looking at the couple with a smile.

“This is going to be a cover version of an oldie,” She hinted, softly clearing her throat.

The music began, and everyone stared at her curiously trying to figure out the song before she started to sing. Antony and Marta began to sway softly to the music, Marta was tearing up slightly as she recognized the song. It was one of her favorite songs

As Blix sang, her gaze moving about the crowd. Her eyes eventually locked onto Pacho’s who was smiling softly at her. She sang a couple of lines, keeping her eyes on his, subtly singing to him.

She broke her gaze away once she got closer to the end, moving it back to Marta and Antony. When the song ended, the crowd clapped and cheered. Marta after hugging Antony, strolled over to Blix to throw her arms around her in a huge hug. Blix hugged her back.

Blix handed the microphone to one of the band members who took over and began to play the playlist that Marta gave them.

Blix after giving her congratulations to the happy couple, made her way over to Pacho. She collapsed not in the empty chair next to him, but onto his lap.

“I am exhausted,” She said with a small yawn.

“Don’t fall asleep just yet… we still have to get through at least another hour before we can slip away unnoticed,” Pacho informed her.

Blix quietly nodded, before the two of them got up to get food and mingle. The party was in full swing, and she was standing near the brothers listening to them as they told stories about Marta. Blix noticed out of the corner of her eye, that Marta and Antony had slipped outside.

She smirked, turning to look over at the wedding cake. Blix tilted her head as she looked at it. Something about it wasn’t right, she just couldn’t put her fingers on it. She shook her head, thinking she was being paranoid.

If only she had listened to the paranoia.

One moment she was talking to Gilberto, the next all she could hear was a sharp ringing. She was aware of something on her legs, pinning them down, and several screams and shouts. Blix opened her eyes trying to focus on something, anything. Her vision was blurry, all she could see was disfigured shapes and splashes of colors.

A voice was calling her name, growing louder as it moved closer. The weight on her legs disappeared as a face came into view. It took several blinks for her vision to clear, and she was able to see Pacho’s face staring down at her.

“I’m starting to think someone out there wants me dead,” Blix mumbled as Pacho helped her sit up.

Pacho chuckled weakly at that, whispering, “You’re okay.”

The two of them slowly stood up, looking over each other, inspecting the damage. Blix could see several bruises on his face, and blood coming out his ear. He grasped his left arm, that she assumed he had landed on.

Pacho, looking her over, could see some blood coming from her nose, with various bruises on her body. He noticed she was favoring her left leg, probably due to the dead body that had landed on her right.

The two of them looked around, as Miguel made his way over to them, holding his shoulder. The three of them found Gilberto, and after making sure Marta and his family was okay, sent everyone home or to the hospital. The 4 of them somehow made it to one of Gilberto’s home, each of them covered in soot with some sort of injury.

The four of them made it into his office where Gilberto collapsed into a chair and stared off into space. Pacho lit a cigarette and Miguel stood there with his arms crossed.

Blix had one of the guards grab a first aid kit so she can fix everyone’s injuries. She set the kit on the coffee table, before going over to Gilberto’s glasses and decanter of whiskey. Her hand trembled for a moment, and she shook it thinking that would steady it before grabbing the decanter and pouring everyone a drink.

Blix passed them out once they were all poured out, and Miguel nodded his head in appreciation. Gilberto took the drink, blinking slowly.

Pacho took the drink after taking a drag of his cigarette. Blix took her place next to Pacho, leaning against a chair.

“That man… has no decency,” Gilberto began, standing up. “To attack my family like this… my daughter on the night of her wedding. Only a madman would do that. A crazed animal, dangerous.”

A moment passed, as Gilberto began to shake with fury.

“I want him dead. Not next year. Right now. Kill all of them. I don’t just want you to kill his lawyers, accountants, and bankers… I want you to kill his secretaries, anyone who lifted a finger to help that man. I want to see them dead,” Gilberto’s once calm voice began to shout. “ANYONE WHO HAS EVER LICKED A POSTAGE STAMP AND PUT IT ON AN ENVELOPE IN HIS NAME, I WANT TO SEE THEM DEAD! AND THEN I WANT YOU TO FIND ANYONE WHO EVER SHOOK HIS HAND AND KILL THEM TOO!”

Miguel during his tirade, placed his hand on his shoulder, nodding his head quietly.

Pacho paced slightly, fury on his face as he took another drag of his cigarette.

“That son of a bitch. From this night, we’ll show no mercy,” Gilberto declared with a shaky breath.

Blix looked at the 3 of them, knowing there was nothing she could say in this moment that could help them. There was something she could do however as she quietly guided each of them to a chair. Grabbing the first aid kit, she began to tend to their injuries softly. All 3 tried to wave her off, but a firm look from her made them back down.

“Can’t rage war against Escobar, if you let your injuries go untreated,” Blix murmured to Gilberto as she looked over his wounds.

Gilberto sighed heavily and allowed her to tend to him, along with Miguel. Pacho didn’t complain, having learned his lesson from the last time he had been injured.

Once all 3 were patched up, Pacho turned the tables on her and insisted that she let him look over her injuries. She let him tend to her minor injuries with a small sigh.

A few minutes later, her and Pacho were stepping out of the office. Diego greeted them; his face full of concern as his gaze roamed over the both of them.

“We’re fine. Could’ve been worse to be honest,” Blix assured him as the 3 of them walked out to a car, to drive home.

After the both of them took a shower, and changed into cleaned clothes, Pacho went to bed, Diego trailing behind him. Blix sat in the living room, not ready to go to bed just yet.

It was late in the night, and Blix couldn’t sleep. She stared at the proposal that Gilberto had drawn up and given to her the day before to give to the ambassador. With a heavy sigh, she called him not caring that she will probably be waking him up.

“Ambassador… I need to talk to you… and the CIA. The Cali cartel want to make a deal,” Blix began.

The next morning, in the early hours, she had flown out to Medellin, proposal in hand. The trip to the embassy didn’t take long, but it sure felt like time was moving slowly.

Blix stepped into the ambassador’s office, her face blank as she took a seat next to Stechner. She was grateful to have thought about putting on makeup this morning to hide her bruises, to lessen questions.

“So. Cali wants to create a bargain, eh? Is that what you’ve been doing with your free time Agent Lage? Hanging around cartel members?” Stechner said in a mocking tone.

Blix ignored him, as she pulled out the documents that Gilberto and the other Gentlemen had signed, setting it on the ambassador’s desk.

“Listen. I am well aware that no one here is innocent when it pertains to the Cali. I would know, since Gilberto informed me that the both of you are on his payroll. This meeting was bound to happen soon enough, so cut the crap. Let’s get this show on the road,” Blix spoke calmly.

“So, Gilberto wants free reign for 6 months after the death or capture of Escobar, and all 4 are willing to turn themselves in?” Ambassador Crosby asked in clarification after spending some time reading it over.

“Yes. All four of them have agreed to turn themselves in 6 months after Escobar’s death, or capture, without interference from law enforcement. No interruptions to production lines or sales. They spend 6 months making themselves rich, and then they’ll gladly let us arrest them,” Blix explained further.

“What about your bestie? Pena? Don’t think he’ll be too happy to know you made this deal for them. What are you going to about that?” Stechner questioned looking at her.

“Currently? I don’t care. He’s not focused on Cali. When that time comes, I’ll tell him the same thing I am telling you. It’s one less cartel. Who cares how it’s done?” Blix nonchalant answer disguised her worry.

She knew one day she would have to face Javier about her decisions, but it was not going to be anytime soon. She would deal with it when the time came.

Stechner stared at her somewhat impressed, “Living in Cali definitely made you more cutthroat. If you ever think about switching agencies let me know.”

Blix rolled her eyes at that, and watched as the ambassador approved the proposal, making a phone call to the president of Colombia. A few minutes later and the signed document was being filed away, signed by all in the room.

Blix stood up preparing to leave, when the ambassador stopped her, “Agent Lage, the annual Christmas party is tonight. You should come.”

Blix nodded once, making her way out into the hallway. Stechner sauntered outside beside her, his hands in his pockets.

“So, tell me… How is Mr. Herrera? I’ve noticed you no longer have been living in that lovely little townhouse of yours. However, I guess it is hard to stay there after Escobar’s men destroyed your door,” Stechner commented as the two of them walked toward the elevator.

“I’m not dignifying that with an answer,” Blix replied, shaking her head.

The two of them stepped onto the elevator, Blix not sparing him a glance.

“Not sure what happened recently for you to come forward about this deal suddenly… however… I hope you are prepared for the potential fallout if anyone else finds out about your relationship with him,” Stechner warned her.

Blix continued to ignore him, walking forward once the elevator doors opened. Blix was well aware of the consequences; she currently did not care about them.

Blix checked in with her team.

“What’s happening guys?” Blix asked them as she stepped into the office.

Theo, Cynthia, and Robbie all looked up from their desks, before grabbing files, holding them out to her.

Blix took all of the files, with a short laugh. They filled her in on current assignments they were working to help DEA. Cynthia & Robbie traded off on who monitored the airports. Theo listened to chatter and translated phone calls. She took a seat, going through each file and approving them when she was satisfied with the work. The work took about 2 hours before she sent off the files to various other departments to be filed.

Once she got caught up on paperwork, she left the embassy. She was not in the mood to go to another party, so she hopped on a plane back to Cali.

Returning home, she smiled softly at Pacho who was on the phone giving out orders. He finished up his call as he spotted her walking toward him.

He leaned down, kissing her softly.

“So… I was thinking you and me could go out for dinner this evening?” Pacho suggested as he straightened up.

“I like the sound of that. What are our plans to deal with Medellin?” Blix inquired as the two of them strode over to his corvette.

“I’ll tell you later this evening,” Pacho answered her, driving her into the city.

While the two of them ate, Los Pepes with the new knowledge being fed to them from Cali, attacked the Medellin cartel hard. Pacho eventually informed her of what was going to go down, and she had a feeling that this war was going to get bloody on both sides.

[irishseeeker]

this is for day 2 of @katexanthonyweek ! prompt: lovey dovey

                                          p.s I love you

Kate and Anthony spend their first week apart. They cope as well as expected.

“I must go.”

“Five more minutes,” Kate murmured, burrowing closer to her husband’s chest. “Then you can go.”

“We said that ten minutes ago.”

“I am failing to see your point.”

She felt Anthony’s laughter vibrating through his chest. They had been lying in bed all morning, Anthony’s departure creeping closer and closer. They had made love twice before Anthony left her to bathe and get dressed for his departure to Aubrey Hall.

Kate rested her chin on his collarbone, sighing softly as she looked at him. She wanted to remember every inch of his face. She knew she was being terribly dramatic, it was not as if he was leaving for weeks-it was merely a week he would be gone.

Anthony’s nose bumped hers, pressing his lips softly against hers. Her wretched splint had finally been removed, so their legs were tangled freely together on the bed.

Kate brushed some of his dark hair out of his eyes. “I have packed all of Newton’s things for you.”

“Must I bring the dog?” Anthony sighed, brushing his lips against hers. She could spend her entire life kissing him and it would never be enough.

Kate nodded, it was not up for debate. “You promised. I cannot bare the thought of you being alone down there.”

She felt him soften, pressing another kiss to her cheeks before ending with one on her lips. “You are lovely.”

“When are you going to admit that you love Newton? Do you think I do not notice the treats you bring home for him when you think I am not looking?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about, wife.”

“You, Anthony Bridgerton, are far more soft than you would ever admit.”

“Kate. I am a dangerous, intimidating man. I told you to stop calling me that-“

She interrupted him with a kiss. It was quite effective whenever she wanted Anthony to stop talking. “I will miss you.”

It worked, his lips moved against hers but they broke apart. “Not as much as I will miss you.” I hate leaving you. Are you sure you will be alright?”

Kate carefully considered her response. Anthony had not been to Aubrey Hall to attend to his duties physically since before her accident. He dealt with any issues through penmanship and had sent his brothers on his behalf for any pressing matters. He had refused to leave her side for weeks. However, Kate was nearly fully healed and it was time for Anthony to visit his tenants and attend to his duties. Kate’s leg was too weak to join him moving from house to house each day, so she was staying behind.

The last thing Kate wanted was for Anthony to worry about her while he was away. He had only begun to relax about her leg and it had been two weeks since her splint had been removed. “I will be absolutely fine. My leg is nearly healed. Mary and Edwina are coming to stay and your family will call everyday.”

Anthony nodded at her response, although the creases on his forehead showed his distress at their current situation. “I have instructed the entire staff, including your lady’s maid, to keep an eye on you. If anything happens during the night or you need anything, they will be waiting.”

“I nearly forgot I had a lady’s maid,” Kate teased, dragging her fingertips delicately down his cheek. “You were such a good one.”

Anthony had been an angel since her accident. Of course, they had argued plenty and she had cursed him to oblivion when his overprotective and controlling nature got too much. The ridiculous man had believed her incapable of feeding herself at times, claiming it was too strenuous of an act. He had taken care of her in every way he could, much to her disdain at times. He would bathe her, dress her, feed her and take her to relieve herself during the day and night, much to her mortification and severe objection.

He kept her company throughout most of the day, working while she lay in their bed reading, sleeping or complaining. She had felt awfully sorry for herself at times and Anthony had always made her feel better.

Despite her occasional annoyance, Kate absolutely adored him for everything he did and she still struggled to comprehend what she had done to deserve such an incredible husband.

She was going to miss him so much she wouldn’t know what to do with herself.

Her leg had healed, she just needed to learn to walk on it again. Her muscle was quite weak and could not handle too much pressure, but there was no longer any pain when her leg moved or was touched. She was slowly improving.

Anthony’s expression turned serious. “I want no funny business, Kate. If I hear a word of you putting unnecessary pressure on your leg or attempting to walk recklessly-I will come straight back here and tie you to that bed myself.”

In the six months they had been married, Kate had come to learn a few things about marriage.

This was a deciding moment, where she could either start an argument with her husband about treating her like a child or choose to understand this was how her emotionally stunted husband struggled to express his emotions and feelings.

Kate wanted to make him feel better, to let him know she understood him and to reassure him nothing was going to happen while they were separated.

“Is that a promise?” Kate’s smile was devious, she couldn’t resist flirting with him. She had become much more daring with her newfound experience as a married woman.

“You will be the death of me, woman,” He said, groaning softly as his hands moved down her nightdress to squeeze her derriere. They both knew they did not have time to finish what they were about to start.

“I promise I will be on my best behaviour,” She said, pressing a reassuring kiss to his lips. “I will have someone with me at all times. I will not get into any carriages but your mothers. I will not be up to much, I will need to save my energy for the ball this coming Sunday. Where I will be waiting for you.”

It would be her second public engagement since her injury. She had not seen anyone but her family and Penelope since the accident. Anthony had escorted her to a ball the previous week. She did not do much but sit in the short time they were there, but it was better than lounging about in her home as she had been for weeks.

She felt Anthony reach for her hand, which he brought up to his lips to kiss. She felt him slip something cool inside of her palm, which she quickly opened.

“I want you to keep this until I return.”

It was his pocket watch.

“Anthony, I cannot. You bring this everywhere-“

“Here she is, again, arguing with her husband.”

“It is a favourite pastime of mine.”

“I will keep it safe, counting down until your return.”

“I packed my blanket with your things. For when you to go to sleep.” Aubrey Hall was a home to Anthony, but it was also full of painful memories of his father. She hated the idea of him being completely alone, but her leg was too weak for her to join him. He would be too busy with his duties to see her until nighttime.

“The blue one?”

It had been a gift from her father a few years before he had died. She had never slept without it, and often wrapped it around herself when they were alone. “Yes.”

“I like that one. It smells like you,” He said, his thumb brushing the top of her cheekbone. “Lillies and soap.”

Anthony carefully sat up, pulling Kate along with him. “I must go.”

As she watched her husband stand up and straighten out his clothes, Kate fought off the embarrassing urge to cry.

They had spent a single night apart since their marriage, which was the night of his emotional breakdown that led to him running away to Bridgerton House. They had never been apart since.

Anthony knelt between her legs where she was sitting on the edge of the bed. He held her face in his hands, resting his forehead against hers.

“It is only a week.”

She nodded reassuringly, more for herself than Anthony. “It will fly by.”

“Please don’t cry, darling,” He said soothingly, wiping the tears that were freely flowing down her cheek.

“I am not,” She said stubbornly, the sob breaking free from her throat removing any plausibility from her statement. “T-there is something in my eye.”

Anthony snorted as he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her to his chest. He kissed her hair as she let out a few more sobs, ungracefully wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “I am being ridiculous.”

“Never,” He teased and they simuntenaouestly burst out laughing. ”I love you so much, Kate.”

“I love you so much,” She replied, pulling him towards her for a passionate kiss. She slips her tongue between his lips, glued to hers and never wants the moment to end. It does, a few moments later. “Please be safe.”

He pecked her lips softly. “Of course. I will write to you this evening.”

She watched him walk towards the door, putting on a brave face to smile at him. “I will see you on Sunday.”

She nodded, biting on her bottom lip hard. She was trying not to blink, to force the tears to stay at bay behind her eyelids. “Sunday,” She said, nodding at him. “Goodbye, Bridgerton.”

He laughed, staring at her with an intense expression that made her feel self conscious and alive at the same time. “Goodbye, Bridgerton. I love you.”

Kate waited until she heard the rumbling of his carriage leaving the front of Bridgerton House before she burst into tears. Anthony had left before sunrise, so she allowed herself to go back to sleep after her tears had subsidized before rising for the day.

That evening, Kate sat in the drawing room with Edwina. Mary had retired to bed and the sisters were relaxing, it was still too early for them. Usually around this time, Kate would be sitting on Anthony’s lap in his chair. They would tell each other about their days and just converse for hours.

They never ran out of words to speak to each other.

Kate knew she was being dramatic, but she missed her husband. It had not been a day and she was feeling quite sorry for herself. She was already writing to him, wanting to send it on the overnight postal carriage to Kent. It would be with him by morning.

“What are you doing?” said Edwina, putting down the novel in her hands to glance at her sister’s scrawling on

“I am writing to Anthony.”

“Kate.” Edwina laughed softly. “It has been a day.”

“Thank you for pointing out the obvious.” Kate huffed, letting her head fall back onto the cushion. “If I send it soon, it should get to him by morning.”

“I hate not knowing what he is doing,” She said, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Is he eating? When he is really busy, he sometimes forgets to eat. Maybe I should write to Aubrey Hall and make sure the servants bring him regular meals when he arrives home-”

“Kate,” Edwina said, interrupting her sister’s tangent. “Anthony is a grown man. He will be fine.”

“I suppose so,” Kate said grumpily, still debating whether she would write to the butler.

“It is rather lovely to see you like this, you know.”

“How so?”

“Completely in love,” Edwina replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Kate felt herself blush. “It suits you.”

“I can only hope I will have it someday.” Edwina bit her lip, fidgeting with the skirt of her dress.

Kate reached towards her sister, squeezing her hand. “I believe you have, sister. Mr. Bagwell is a lovely man. Once the appropriate time has passed for your courtship, you will be married. If that is what you desire.”

Kate dipped her pen in her ink pot and began to write.

Dear Anthony,

How are you? How was your day? I miss you terribly. How is Newton? I hope he is not terrorizing the cattle, he does love to play with them. I am imagining him running through the fields surrounding Aubrey Hall and the cross look on your face as you chase after him. I wish I was there with you both.

My day was very exciting. I ventured all the way to the drawing room and the kitchen. Colin called on me earlier and ate the chocolate cake meant for dinner, Cook was quite cross.

I am now playing games with Edwina after dinner. Please remember to eat and to get some rest. Brandy and biscuits are not a sufficient meal, Anthony Bridgerton.

I do not want to hear a word about my penmanship in your reply.

Please say hello and give Newton a kiss from me.

I love you.

Your Kate

The following evening, their butler walked into the dining room during dinner. “My lady, a letter has arrived for you.”

“Thank you.” Kate hastily grabbed the letter, squealing with excitement as she tore the letter open. Mary and Edwina watched her with amused expressions.

“Oh be quiet,” Kate said, scrunching her nose at her mother and sister before focusing on the letter.

Dear Kate,

Apologies for the delay in my response, it took me quite some time to make out what you had written.

Kate could practically see her husband’s grin as he wrote this letter. What an ass. Oh, she loved him. She continued to read on.

I began visiting tenants yesterday. There is a roof to be repaired and crops that extra help is needed to harvest. I met two newborn babies, I had forgotten how small they usually were.

I have eaten eggs for breakfast, beef for lunch and chicken for dinner. Are you satisfied?

Dessert was strawberries and cream, which I would have much preferred to have eaten off you. Remember?

Kate bit her lip, feeling her cheeks warm. This was not a letter she should be reading at a dinner table with her mother and sister. Of course she remembered what her husband was referring to. It had happened during their short honeymoon in Aubrey Hall. It involved a picnic blanket, strawberries, little clothes and a lot of cream.

She took a deep breath before continuing to read.

Please do not worry about me. I am fine. More importantly, how are you? How is your leg? I hope you are resting it. Please do not overexert yourself or I will make good on my promise to tie you to our bed.

How was Colin? Did he mention anything regarding his future travels? I worry about him. He seems to be keen to travel for the next few years without much purpose.

Newton is loving the attention most of the tenants are giving him, particularly the children. He had taken Hyacinth’s old doll hostage and has now beheaded her.

He noticed your absence after a while and began to whine but I managed to bribe him to keep quiet with some leftover butcher meat.

I love and miss you,

Your Anthony

Kate had sent her reply late the following afternoon, sending it out with one of the servants.

Dear Anthony,

I received your letter at the dining table, with my mother and sister present. Do you enjoy teasing me so?

Colin spoke of visiting Spain next. I know you worry, as an older brother should, but I believe he is still finding his purpose. He is still young and he has an adventurous spirit.

Benedict taught me how to paint with watercolours today. I had a splendid time, although it did make quite the mess. He is very talented. We should ask him to do one of our portraits. I have always wanted a portrait of Newton for our bedchamber.

Are you well? How are the tenants? I very much look forward to meeting the new arrivals when I come down. Please do send them my well wishes. I am looking forward to seeing them again once we move to Aubrey Hall after the season.

I hate sleeping without you. I love you, darling.

Your Kate

Anthony’s reply arrived the following afternoon, when Kate was having tea with the Bridgerton women. Kate had to excuse herself briefly to read the letter, she was too impatient to wait.

Dear Kate,

A portrait of Newton is not going in our bedchamber. It is not going anywhere in Bridgerton House. As pleased as I am to hear of my brother’s talents and your enjoyment, there will be no portraits of ill behaved dogs.

Your, not our, delightful dog decided to take a swim in the lake this afternoon. However, your dog had failed to take into account the depth and temperature of said lake and got frightened. He swam to a rock and refused to move until I had to swim to him, grab him and bring him inside.

I am still debating his murder.

This is the second time Newton has led me into a lake.

Newton is now attempting to follow me to bed. This is why we do not allow animals to sleep in our beds, Kate. They get needy.

I miss you desperately. I love you.

Your husband,

Anthony

Dear Anthony,

You would do well to remember Newton was sleeping in my bed before you were, Lord Bridgerton.

I do not believe for one second that you did not let Newton into your bed. I cannot lie to you, I am laughing as I read your letter. Newton is very naughty. He does get excited and he cannot help it. The world is a cruel place to not let me witness such an event.

I suppose I will always have the Serpentine.

When are you going to admit that you love him? It is rather sweet he wanted you to get him out of the lake. You are his papa.

Regarding the portrait of Newton, perhaps your office would be a suitable place for it?

Love,

Kate

It was very enjoyable to tease her husband and she even managed to do it through a letter. A letter arrived each day throughout the week, and she sent her reply shortly afterwards.

Dear Kate,

I am not going to have this argument again. Newton is not our child. He is an animal.

I will concede that he is good company. When he is not dragging me into freezing lakes or terrorizing the tenants chickens.

How is your leg? Have you been resting it?

The nights are so dull without you, I miss you. I would pay ten pounds to listen to you play the flute right now if I could. Instead, I am listening to Newton's snores.

Anthony

Dear Husband,

Newton is most definitely our child. If he is not our child, why did you have the tailor prepare him coats for the winter to keep him warm? His coats were made out of very similar fabrics to yours, I might add.

A coincidence? I think not.

My leg is doing well. I have not moved much. Eloise and Francesca joined Edwina and I for tea today, which was quite pleasant. Francesca played the piano, it was so lovely. However, when I offered to play the flute, they suddenly had to return home. Edwina then declared she needed a nap.

Mr. Bagwell joined Edwina and I for lunch this afternoon. I do think he will propose soon. They are so sweet together.

You would be so lucky to listen to my flute playing, Lord Bridgerton.

I love you. I am counting down the minutes until your return.

Yours always,

Kate

Dear Wife,

That is beside the point. I ordered those coats because it was the practical thing to do. I was not going to spend my time picking out additional fabric for Newton’s coats. A Viscount has much more important things to attend to.

Besides, I only wear the best fabric. There could not have been a better choice.

Newton is very fond of his coats, so I win. He wore one during our walk this morning.

I will listen to you play the flute anyday, darling. I might require a glass of brandy beforehand.

That is good news about Edwina and Mr. Bagwell. Perhaps for their wedding gift, I could pay for some carriage handling lessons?

The tenants appreciated the baskets you had put together for them, I had a few of the servants' assistance distributing them today. They asked me to pass on their thanks and appreciation to the wonderful Viscountess.

I cannot wait to see you, I love you.

Your husband,

Anthony

Anthony Bridgerton was on a mission to see his wife.

It was the longest they had been apart since they married, and Anthony had hated every second of it. He had arrived in London and headed straight for Hastings House, where the ball of the evening was taking place.

The Duke and Duchess of Hastings, his sister and brother in law, were celebrating Simon’s birthday.

The ball was well underway when Anthony walked into the ballroom. He was nearly two hours late, much to his delight. He planned on taking Kate home straight anyway, he just had to find her first. He scanned the ballroom but to his dismay, she was not in sight.

“Anthony!”

Anthony sighed as disappointment flooded his veins when he turned around to see Daphne, and not Kate.

“Have you seen Kate?” He stepped forward to kiss her cheek. “Hi Daph.”

“Please do not look so ecstatic to see me,” Daphne teased, smirking as she looked around the room. “It is only my husband’s birthday ball. The last I saw of her, she was sitting with Penelope. How was Aubrey Hall?”

Penelope would not be hard to spot, the poor girl was usually forced into an unfortunate frock that blinded the eye.

“It was busy but an enjoyable week.” That was a lie, Anthony had been miserable without his wife. He had spent the first month of their marriage trying to avoid falling in love with her and keeping his distance from her. “If you will excuse me, I have to find Kate.”

“Brother! How was Aubrey Hall?”

Anthony practically hissed before turning around to look at his younger brother, Colin. He wasted no time with pleasantries. “Have you seen Kate?”

“Hello, Colin,” Colin said, enjoying his brother’s irritated expression. “How are you, brother? I have not seen you in a week. No, no. I insist. Are you enjoying the ball? I am, our dear sister chose quite fine food- ”

“Did we not spend eighteen years of our lives together? Was that not enough?” Anthony replied, rolling his eyes at his brothers. “I would speak more kindly to the person who handles your allowance, brother.”

“As if you would refuse any of it to me, brother,” Colin retorted, grinning at his brother and Anthony huffed, he knew his stupid little brother was right. “You should try the pastries, they are divine.”

Anthony shook his head. “I am not hungry, Colin. I want my wife. Have you seen Kate or not?”

He knew he would get grief from his brothers later, for acting like a lovesick fool. However, he could not find it in him to care. He was one. He was completely infatuated with his wife, who he had not seen in a week and that was a downright crime.

“Lord Bridgerton. Kate is in the drawing room, resting her leg.”

A small voice piped up from behind them, and Anthony turned around to see Penelope Fetherington, smiling pleasantly at the two Bridgerton brothers.

Panic initially filled his chest as Penelope spoke. Had Kate hurt her leg? It was unusual for his wife to rest without some sort of bribery. His family would not be so calm if she had injured her leg, he rationaled, so he took a deep breath.

“Miss Fetherington, I did not see you there. Forgive me, how are you?” Anthony pressed a kiss to Penelope’s glove before nodding his head. It was rude but he did not plan to stick around for his reply. There was one thing on his mind: Kate. “Thank you, Penelope. If you’ll excuse me.”

He did not waste the opportunity to subtle whack the back of Colin’s head as he left the pair.

Anthony practically sprinted through the ballroom, the drawing room was onto two doors down from the large ballroom. He opened the door and there she was, breathtakingly beautiful, sitting on one of the chairs.

Kate’s head turned swiftly at the interruption, her eyes widening at the intrusion before a large smile settled on her face when she saw who it was.

“Did you miss me, Lord Bridgerton?”

His wife’s voice flooded his body with a lightness one would think only drugs could achieve. He felt almost giddy, striding towards her. If he did not kiss her in a few seconds, he would go insane.

“Not as much as you missed me, Lady Bridgerton.” Anthony could not even convince himself on that note.

He swiftly pulled her onto his lap, carefully lifting her leg, before he took his face in hers and kissed her with every fibre of his being. The scent of lilies and soaps flooded his nostrils as her lips moved against his.

He was never leaving her again.

“Hi,” She whispered as they broke apart, panting heavily as they caught their breath.

“Hi,” He replied, laughing at her as he pulled her closer, pressing his lips against hers softly before burying his face in her hair.

“I was told you were making quite the ruckus in the ballroom in your attempts to find me. It is quite rude to shove people out of your way, you know.”

Anthony rolled his eyes. “People need to learn to get out of my way to simply avoid being shoved. Where were you?”

He twirled a few strands of her hair around his fingers, watching her intently as she spoke. “Cressida Cowper purposely spilled wine on Penelope’s gown. I was helping her get the stain out.”

Anthony scowled, “What an abomination of a person. Penelope was the one who told me you were here. She seemed alright. Was she?”

Kate brushed some of his hair behind his ear, her fingertips lightly trailing his cheek. “She was upset, but tried to hide it. We did not have much luck removing the stain, though. She is dancing with Colin now, so her mood has improved significantly.”

“Cressida had to depart quickly afterwards. A few cream tarts found themselves smeared on the back of her dress.”

Anthony raised an eyebrow. “How they got there, one could only imagine.”

“I suppose we will never know.” Kate’s deviant smile said it all. He really had married the greatest, slightly terrifying, woman to ever exist.

Anthony grinned at her, his incredible wife, their noses touching now as his hands completely wrapped around her. “How are you?”

“Splendid. I did miss you terribly, though. It was quite the nuisance.”

He stole another kiss. “Oh, Kate. You do wonders for my ego.”

She laughed, that sweet, beautiful laugh that rang in his ears and made him feel alive. “It will eventually burst if we are not careful. Was everything well at Aubrey Hall?”

Anthony nodded. “Everything is splendid. I fixed every problem, collected rents and solved disputes. I am glad to be home.”

Kate kissed him, running her fingers over his cheeks. “You work so hard. Next time, at least, you will not be alone. That is the last time you will ever leave me.”

Anthony nodded in agreement. “I have no idea how I lived so many years without you. A week without you felt like a lifetime.”

“I suppose we should make up for lost time, my lord.”

“How so?” Anthony’s gaze darkened.

“Take me home and I will show you,” She whispered, blinking up at him in a way that made Anthony catch his breath.

He did not have to be asked twice.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch42: Maybe Baby Part 2- Between The Toaster And The Fridge

Intro: Steve comes home to a very, special welcome…

Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut! (NSFW) No under 18s. Teeth rotting fluff…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N- More thanks to @angrybirdcr​

Chapter 42 Part 1​

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

The recruits around Steve were laughing, and he had to smile himself. He’d just told them the story about how he had managed to get a flag down from the top of a pole once when he was training, right before he go the serum. He’d taken the pins out of the bottom of the pole causing it to crash to the floor where as everyone else had tried to climb it, including Gilmore Hodge. God, what a prick he had been.

“So, the moral of the story is just because it’s the path of least resistance, it doesn’t mean it’s the wrong path.” Steve looked around at the assembled team, smiling to himself as he repeated the words Natasha had once said to him, words he hadn’t agreed with in that circumstance but here, well, they fit.  “Consider each task on its own merit. Decide what your end goal is and then look for the simplest, safest and least strenuous way to achieve it. Conserve your energy for when there’s no other option open to you because that’s the time that you’ll truly need it.”

With that he nodded to Rhodey and moved to the side of the room, folding his arms across his broad chest as he looked at the assembled trainees. They seemed like a good bunch this lot, receptive to his advice and teaching which was an improvement on the lot he’d had a month or so back in Colorado. They’d been a nightmare and when they were awkward it made being away from his girls so much more of a chore. At least when they were like this, it made him feel like it was worthwhile. He took a few more questions, gave a bit more advice before they called it for the day and he headed back to his room to make sure he was packed, ready to head home the next afternoon. It had been three weeks this time, and whilst he’d spoken to Katie and Emmy every night it still didn’t make him feel any better at being away from them, even though he knew it was part and parcel of his job. 

It also wasn’t helping their baby-making plans either.

His phone was vibrating in his pocket and he smiled when he saw who it was. Flopping down on the bed he beamed at Katie.

“Hey sweetheart.”

“Hey handsome.” she smiled, yawning slightly

“What you been up to?”

“Been busy with this Half Way Home proposal.

“How’s it going?”

“Good, Pepper’s giving it the once over before we send it into the Senate. I don’t think they’ll have an issue, I mean we’re not asking for funding but with them behind us it means the sale should go through easier.”

“Sounds like you have it all planned.” He smiled “Bet Natasha is pleased.” “Hmmm” Katie frowned. “She’s flown off again this evening.”

He groaned “Johannesburg?”

“Yeah.” she shrugged “She won’t give up. Says she owes it to Clint to try.”

“She’s on a hiding to nothing.” Steve sighed “I don’t know what she thinks she can do.” “Who knows, but if it makes her feel better who are we to argue. We’d do the same in her position.” And Steve had nothing else he could say on the matter, as he knew she was right. He had done the same, pretty much.

“Can’t want to get home tomorrow.” he changed the subject, smiling. “Three weeks apart isn’t exactly helpful on the whole trying-not-trying front is it?”

“Not really no.” Katie gave a soft laugh

Steve grinned cheekily “Every time I’ve jacked off in the shower I’ve had this horrible, guilty feeling that I could be washing a little me down the-“ “Oh my God!” Katie snorted as Steve laughed loudly, his right hand flying to his chest “You’re disgusting!”

“You love it!” he smirked, and she sighed and looked at him.

“I love you.” she said simply, and he could do nothing but grin stupidly back at the screen.

“Hi Jen!” Katie greeted as she walked up to the coffee counter, Emmy walking behind it like she owned the place, casually heading into the back to find Brooke.

“Hi!” Jen turned to her, “Usual?” “Erm, to be honest with you coffee isn’t what I’m after today.” she said “Had a disgusting hangover yesterday that I’m still recovering from so can I get a tea and one of those Danishes please?”

Jenifer chortled, “Take a seat I’ll bring it over and join you for a bit.” Katie smiled, paid for her drink and food and headed over to the comfy sofas by the window. Sinking into the well-worn leather she pulled out her phone and flicked through a few emails, pleased to see Pepper had proof read their proposal and made a few minor tweaks. She had just fired it off to her secretary to make the changes and forward on when Jennifer sat opposite her, pushing her food and drink over the table. Katie was that hungry she wolfed the pastry down in about four bits, before leaning back, wiping her fingers with a napkin.

“I think sugar and carbs maybe the way forward today” she laughed “I feel better already.”

“Why is it the older you get, the longer hangovers last?” the woman asked and Katie shrugged.

“Gone are the days I could sink shot after shot and still make it out unscathed.” she rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her tea appreciatively “Being an adult sucks.” She spent a few hours at the coffee shop, leaving Emmy there after Jennifer had assured her it was ok for her to stay, before heading into the city to find Steve a gift. This year, four, was either fruit, flowers, linen or silk. Which was a random combination when you thought about it. But she found a really nice grey linen blazer that would suit Steve, and smirking to herself, bought a silk slip that she could wear to bed. Always nice to keep him on his toes as she had said last year.

She picked Emmy up and then stopped on the way home to fuel up the Camero, As she leaned against the side of the car, watching the numbers tick over on the pump, the smell of gasoline filled her nostrils, almost choking her and she was overcome with a wave of nausea and vomited straight onto the floor.

“Fucks sake.” she groaned, as she managed to compose herself, waiting for the feeling to subside. Thankfully Emmy was too engrossed in something on her phone to notice. Eventually, her stomach stopped flipping and she finished, paid and headed back to the Compound, wondering if she was coming down with a bug. But then, as she walked down the corridor with her bags the strong stench of bleach from one of the labs made her once again feel the need to hurl.  

Something clicked in her mind and she paused, suddenly feeling very hot.

“Hey.” Bruce looked at her as he appeared from the lab. “You alright? You look a bit pale.” “Yeah, fine.” she nodded, swallowing “Just remembered, I forgot to grab something. Emmy, can you take these up to the apartment and go straight to Nat? Bruce do you mind just…”

“No, course not.” He smiled, “In fact, I have something to show you Em. Remember that research I was doing into the…”

Katie didn’t stay to hear the rest, Emmy wandered off after Bruce chatting away, whilst she turned back the way she had come and hurried back to the car. 

***** Steve walked back into the apartment and was greeted by a whirl of sandy fur before Katie appeared hurriedly crossing the hallway to throw herself into his arms.

“Missed you.” He smiled, as he bent to give her a kiss.

“I missed you too.” she pouted, her hands fisting into his light blue button down “Three weeks is far too long, I don’t like it.” “I know, sorry baby.” he smiled “Where’s Emmy?”

“Nat’s” Katie said as she turned and headed back to the kitchen “I know it isn’t our anniversary until tomorrow but I wanted get you all to myself right away.”

“Yeah? Got something in mind?” He grinned, wrapping his arms around her from behind, nipping at her neck before he rest his chin on her shoulder.

“Yeah, feeding you.” she chuckled as his stomach gave a loud rumble “Hungry?” “I’m always hungry.” he pouted, his arms still wrapped tightly round her “Doesn’t help that whatever you’ve been baking smells so good.”

“Saffron buns.” She smiled and Steve let out a groan off delight as his stomach rumbled again “And seeing as you’re so keen to get your hands on one, can you get them out of the oven?” she nodded towards it and twisted away from his hold “I’m almost done with the rest of the food.”

Grumbling slightly at the loss of her warmth against his chest, he straightened up and pulled the metal and glass door open before he frowned. A single bun sat on the tray in the middle of the large oven. What was that about?

“Honey, what…” He turned to look at Katie who was stood behind him, biting her lip. He frowned, before he turned back to the bun in the…

Oh. Oh!

Steve spun round that fast he nearly fell over. Katie smiled at him, her eyes shining at the look of surprise on his handsome face.

“You’re - um. You - you’re…?” Steve couldn’t quite form his words. Katie smiled, as he swallowed hard “Katie…”

“Yeah. Although I think the correct term might be ‘we.’” 

“Sweetheart you…” he looked at his wife, not quite able to believe what she was saying “We’re, really having a baby?” “Yeah.” She nodded, sniffing slightly as she reached for him then with both hands, cupping his face in her fingers. “We are. You’re gonna be a daddy, Steve.”

“Shit!” He exclaimed with a laugh “I’m gonna be a daddy!” with that he pulled her into his arms and swung her up in the air, the same way he had done when she’d agreed to marry him, causing her to laugh before he gently brought her down again, her arms sliding around his neck as he set her on her feet, pressing another kiss to her lips.

“How far gone, do you know?” He asked, pulling back an inch. “Not sure. It can’t be that far but I have an appointment with the ob-gyn tomorrow morning. I wanted to make sure everything was okay after, you know…”

Steve glanced down at her stomach and moved his hand towards it, pausing.

“You don’t have to ask.” Katie smiled softly, taking his hand in hers and guiding it onto her stomach. Steve took a deep breath as his fingers splayed out gently across her belly under her palm, his face shining with pure unadulterated emotion as his eyes stayed focused on his hand.

He had never felt so happy or so alive in his life.

*****

A tiny blip. Nothing more than what looked like static brought tears to both their eyes as Dr Kellet pointed to the image.

“Well, Mrs Rogers” she smiled “from this I estimate you’re roughly eight weeks pregnant.” “Eight weeks?” Steve asked, as he did the maths in his head. Eight weeks took them back to the fourth of July, his birthday…

Katie grinned to herself as she felt Steve’s arms slide around her waist and his lips gently brushing on her neck, his stubble scratching at her skin.

“I’m trying to cook you lunch here.” she sighed as his hand worked beneath the waistband of her denim shorts. Her breath caught in her throat as his fingers skated into her underwear.

“Want me to stop?” he asked as her head fell back against his shoulder and she bit her lip.

“Didn’t say that.” she muttered as his fingers slipped further into her folds, finding her spot. His other hand slipped up her vest top and splayed on her stomach, pulling her back into him further and she let out a soft squeak as he slipped one finger into her. He continued to work her, she was putty in his hands and eventually when he knew she was close he moved and spun her round, pulling her to him, his arousal pressing into her as he kissed her, hard, his hands cupping her cheeks as he backed her into the wall. Her hands strayed down to the buckle of his belt and she quickly undid it, wasting no time as she slipped her hand into his boxers, grasping him hard. He bucked at the touch and let out a hiss.

“Easy soldier.” she grinned into his mouth as he let out a groan, his hands dropping to her shorts. In a flash she was out of them and her underwear and he lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist, back pressed against the kitchen wall.

“Shut up.” he mumbled, kissing her hard and she laughed into his mouth, a laugh that turned into a gasp as he pushed into her with no warning at all.

“Gonna fuck a baby into you doll.” He growled and her head rolled back, banging slightly on the light yellow painted wall. “Say that again.” she moaned.

He punctuated each word with a hard thrust “I’m…gonna…fuck…a…baby…into…you…” he purred, one hand resting by her head on the wall, the other snaking under her top and pulling down the cups of her bra. He rolled each nipple in turn between his thumb and forefinger leaving her grinding down against him for more friction as she kissed him again, hard, her gasps coming thick and fast as he rutted up, his hips snapping back and forth in a fast and deep rhythm. Steve let out a groan, his tongue sliding against hers sending the familiar red hot pokers of desire straight to his belly. His wife still managed to turn him on as much as the first time they’d ever been intimate together, despite there being what felt like a life time of ups and downs since then. If anything he was convinced that’s what made it better. He knew her body as well as he knew his own, every curve, every dip, every scar, blemish freckle and she knew his, each and every single inch of his skin, his limbs. Her hands grasped at his back, sliding up his t-shirt, nails raking down his skin, the stinging sensation causing him to grunt again as his rhythm picked up slightly, gaining momentum as he could feel himself going. “Come on, baby.” He muttered, his forehead pressed against hers “Wanna see you let go.”

“Stevie.” Her voice was a whisper, as her eyes fluttered closed for a second and he felt her thighs tighten around him, her mouth falling slack for a moment as her head tilted back. He moved the hand that was against the wall to her neck, holding her head in place and when her eyes opened again, those beautiful green orbs locked onto his she gave a low, sultry moan and he felt her walls tighten around him.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He mumbled as the strands in his stomach began to tighten “I love you, so much.” and with a final few snaps of his hips he came with a loud moan, his head falling to her shoulder, lips latching onto her neck as he thrust through his orgasm, before he stilled, both of them catching their breath.

Their baby had been conceived between the toaster and the fridge.

“So from that you’re estimated due date is the ninth April…” Dr Kellet smiled, tapping at something on her computer and then turning to gently wipe off the gel she had placed on Katie’s stomach. “So, do you have any questions?”

Of course Steve did. He spent a full thirty minutes drilling the woman about all the types of things Katie could and couldn’t do. Dr Kellet smiled, before she answered all of them, and some he hadn’t asked, in particular one about how sex was fine up until the birth if Katie was comfortable, warning him in fact that many pregnant women felt a spike in their libido in their second trimester. This caused Steve to flush and Katie to silently snigger.

“And lastly, I do hate to warn you about this as well but the term morning sickness, its bullshit. Should be called All Day Sickness”

“Tell me about it” Katie rolled her eyes. “Smells are the worst trigger.”

“Yeah, that’s very common.” the Dr Smiled “The good news is it should die down, if not go completely by about twenty weeks, but just keep yourself hydrated and rest up to avoid fatigue.”

“Thanks.” Katie smiled at her, “I’ll bear it in mind.”

As they walked back to the car, Steve’s arm curled round Katie’s shoulder and he pulled her closer, dropping a kiss onto her head. She smiled to herself, leaning into his touch as he gripped the scan photo they had been given with his other hand.

“I still can’t quite believe it.” He shook his head, reaching into his pocket for the car keys. “I know.” Katie’s voice was little more than a whisper. Steve turned to face her, his hands linking at the bottom of her spine “I can’t wait to tell everyone.” “We’re not telling everyone until twelve weeks is up.” she said, shaking her head “Bar Tony, Natasha, and Emmy.”

“Now?” He grinned, and Katie laughed as she snaked her arms round his neck.

“So impatient, Captain Badass.” She grinned as she leaned up to kiss him. “But yeah, let’s pay Tony a visit!”

Steve spent the entire forty-five minute journey grinning like an idiot, chatting about plans for nurseries and all sorts of stuff, he was incandescently excited. Katie simply let him go on, his happiness was infectious although she did at one point have to get him to pull over so she could vomit out of the passenger door.

Steve was out of the car like a shot and round to the other side, crouching down, his hand gently stroking Katie’s flushed cheek.

“You okay?” He asked, his face concerned as she reached for the bottle of water that was in the cup holder.

“Get used to this.” She groaned, laying her head back against the head rest.

As they walked up the driveway to the porch, Pepper spotted them immediately from where she was sat on a chair on the grass, Morgan happily led on her tummy on the tartan blanket. She greeted them as they approached and Morgan let out a loud shriek at the sound of their voices.

“Moo, you’ve gotten so big!” Steve smiled as he swept her up and she beamed back at him.

“Well you haven’t seen her in a few weeks.” Pepper chuckled, as Steve gently pulled faces at the infant, causing her to give him a huge smile. “They grow fast.” “You’re not kidding.” Steve mused and Katie smiled, unable to stop her heart blooming at the thought that he would be doing that soon enough with their own baby.

“Hey guys.” Tony smiled, walking out of the house and dropping onto a seat next to Pepper. “Not that it’s not nice to see you but we weren’t expecting you.” “Yeah, well, we err, have some news that we kinda wanted to tell you in person.” Katie glanced up at Steve as he gently placed Morgan back on the blanket and Katie sat on the wicker couch opposite her brother and Pepper, Steve perching on the arm next to her.

Pepper twigged immediately, smiling at Katie who grinned back.

“What’s the matter?” Tony frowned, “Are you sick? Is something wrong with the business?”

“Oh come on Tony, isn’t it obvious?” Pepper looked at him

“Errr no.” he frowned. “What-” he looked at his sister “-what’s supposed to be obvious?”

Katie glanced at Steve who gave her a grin before he turned and looked at his brother-in-law.

“You’re gonna be an uncle, Tony!” he smiled, dropping an arm round Katie’s shoulders.

Tony stared for a minute and then slapped his knees triumphantly, a huge grin breaking across his face. “You’re kidding me! Really? Really?” He leaned forward, intently scrutinizing Katie’s midsection until she tossed a throw pillow at his head. He dodged it, looked at her for a moment before he jumped up and swept her into an enormous hug. She stood up to greet him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Kiddo, that’s, wow, it’s awesome!” He spluttered.

“Thanks Tony.” She sniffed, stepping back as her brother reached up and cupped her face in his hands, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Guys, congratulations.” Pepper gave Steve a hug and then turned to Katie when Tony had finally released her, giving the younger woman a squeeze.  

“Wow, Baby America - you gonna dress him in star spangled diapers?” Tony paused, faltering, as he was shaking Steve’s hand. “Or her, or maybe one of each?”

“One of each?” Steve frowned.

“It isn’t twins.” Katie rolled her eyes

“You gonna find out what it is?” Pepper asked.

“I dunno we haven’t discussed it.”

“Wait, they can find out?” Steve frowned “They can find out what it is before it’s born?” Tony looked at Steve “Remind me how long you’ve been defrosted?”

“Tony.” Pepper warned him before she turned to Steve “Yes, Steve they can.” “But you guys didn’t?” He frowned. “We didn’t want to know.”  Tony shrugged, dropping a kiss onto the side of Pepper’s head before he clapped his hands together. “This causes for a celebration, only not you young lady.” He pointed at Katie and she rolled her eyes “Yes, beers.” he continued chunnering away to himself, heading back to the house.

“You two okay to watch Morgan?” Pepper asked gesturing to where Morgan lay on her back, legs wriggling furiously “Just keep an eye on her, anything she can get hold of she’s sticking in her mouth…”

The two of them nodded and sank back into the chairs and Steve dropped a kiss to Katie’s head, his arm curling round her shoulders as she snuggled into him, kicking off her shoes so she could swing her feet up onto the cushion besides her.

“Happy?” He asked.

“Ridiculously” she responded, giving him a soft kiss.

***** Later that night they broke their happy news to Emmy, only she didn’t react the way they had expected.

“So,” she looked down at her hands as her fingers twisted around one another, the way they always did when she was worried, “does this mean I need to pack my bags?” “What?” Katie frowned, “Why would us having a baby mean you need to pack your bags?” “Coz, well, you’ll have your own kid now.” she shrugged “Not like you’ll want me around.” Steve and Katie shared a look and Steve shook his head, dropping to his knees in front of the girl as Katie sat on the arm of the chair she was in.

“Of course we want you around.” Steve looked at the girl “Emmy, you’re part of our family now, and all this means is that our family is getting a bit bigger.”

Emmy looked up at Steve, her eyes shining with tears, before she looked at Katie, and melted into her arms as the woman gave her a hug.

“You have a home with us for as long as you want.” Katie pulled back, smiling “And besides,” she winked, “you’ll be our chief babysitter.”

Later that night, when she was getting changed for bed, Steve couldn’t help but just watch Katie as she moved around the bedroom in her sleep shorts and bra. The fact she was growing his baby just made her all the more beautiful to him, and when he couldn’t stand not touching her anymore, he threw his legs off the bed and moved to stand behind her, looking over her shoulder into the mirror as she finished cleaning her teeth. One hand came to rest on her hip, while his other hand slipped down, palm spread protectively over her bare abdomen as he pressed tender kisses to her cheek and throat.

"I love you,” he whispered softly against her ear.

She leaned back against him, looking at the two - no, three of them in the mirror, her husband’s head bowed against hers, their child beneath his hand.

For once he fell asleep before Katie, and as she lay there, gently stroking the back of his neck she couldn’t help the immense happiness that overwhelmed her. Things were about to change, again, for them. But this time, it was a change they both welcomed.

**** Chapter 43

**Original Posting**

[katiea03]

~*Snuggle*~ (Bokuto x Reader)

A/N~ I just wanted to say thank you for the love on my first post and I am really excited to continue writing more! I got my first request from one of my best friend, so this ones for you! ( ´･･)ﾉ(._.`)

 Requested 👉 | Anonymous asked ~ “Hi! I really liked your first post and I didn’t know if you were taking requests but do you think you can write a fluff about Bokuto 🥺👉🏻👈🏼 ?”

Word Count~ 1.3K 

Saturday could not have come any sooner! It has been an excruciatingly long week and you wanted nothing more than to lay in bed with your long term boyfriend Bokuto. You wake up peacefully to the warm sun hitting your face through your curtains. Your eyes flutter open and yawn happily as to not hear the blaring alarm clock you do every other day of the week. You stretch in the bed and the view of Kōtarō brings a lazy smile to your face.

  He was splayed across the bed, his long limbs in every direction and his face smushed against the mattress like he is every morning. His body practically falling off the bed and you breathed out a soft laugh. You instinctively brought your hand up to gently run your fingers through his disheveled salt and pepper hair.

  You try your best not to disturb him as you feel sympathy towards him. His practices as of late have been strenuous and exhausting. Tournaments were right around the corner and the coaches were pushing them to their limits. Though Kōtarō is always up for a challenge, you know this has stressed him out more than he would like to admit.

  With this being one of his only days to relax, you wanted to do all you could to alleviate even just a bit of his stress. You carefully slide out of bed, trying your best to not wake Bokuto. You quickly brush your teeth before quietly walking to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Looking into the fridge, you instantly know what to make for Bokuto. Tamago Kake Gohan. You get the rice cooker set up as well as the bowls and glasses all set up on the breakfast tray. Once the rice is done, you neatly pour it into two bowls as well as cracking an egg into each one. You season his bowl the way he likes it and set it back on the plate. You crack an extra egg on top for him and set yours up as well. You leave the dishes in the sink for later, carefully bringing the tray back to your shared room.

  Using your hip, you push open the door and see Bokuto still asleep. You place the tray gently on the bed before walking over to his side of the bed, shaking him lightly. He stirs a bit but with still no signs of waking up, you shake him a little harder.

  “Wake up Kōtarō,” and with that he turns to face you, blinking slowly. His hands running through his hair, he stares at you blankly for a second when a wide smile breaks out.

  “How lucky am I? I've been woken up by an angel,” he sleepily grabs your hand and presses a gentle kiss to the inside of your palm. You playfully roll your eyes at him as you feel your heart skip a beat.

  “Oh stop it!” No matter how many times he says it, you have the same reaction. You snap out of the loving daze you feel yourself drifting into and pat his chest. “Come on sit up,”. With his upper body against the headboard, you place the tray on his lap and slide back into bed with him. You could see hearts in his eyes when he looked towards you. He pulls you in close and peppers your face with kisses. Your laugh echoes off the walls as you playfully try to wiggle out of his grasp. In between laughs you manage to tell him,

  “Kōtarō! Hurry up and eat before it gets cold!” He finally lets you go before picking up his chopsticks and tapping them with yours.

  “Thank you for the food!” He calls out before digging in.

  You take a bite of your breakfast as you look towards Bokuto while he's nearly inhaling his. You try your best trying to stifle a laugh.

  “The food isn’t going anywhere, you’re gonna choke if you keep eating so fast.” With his mouth too full to speak he nods. This time you laugh out loud and he gives you a look that makes you laugh even harder. He swallows his food and jokingly elbows you before taking a reasonably sized bite.

  As you both eat, you catch up with each other. Though it's mostly him talking but you don’t mind one bit. You love how his eyes light up when he speaks of his team, or how he laughs when he talks about the craziest situations he gets Akaashi into. With how busy you both have been, you easily miss the domestic things like this.

  The now-empty bowls and cups are back on the tray and Bokuto goes to bring them back to the kitchen but you pull him back.

“Nuh-uh, you stay here! I’ll do it.” He attempts to protest but you are already walking out of the room with the tray. You clean up the kitchen a bit making your way back to the room. You close the door and with your back against the wall, you can’t help but admire him. His perfectly sculpted body laying flat against the bed as he looks up at his phone. Still in his long pajama pants. You climb back into bed and snuggle up next to him. He puts his arm around you and you're pulled in even closer to him.

  “So what do you wanna do today Kōtarō?” You trace patterns along his chest as he puts down his phone to look back at you.

  “I don’t know, let's just stay here for a while longer,” He runs his fingers through your hair, twisting a strand around his finger. You are almost surprised at his request seeing as Bokuto never seems to be able to sit still for long. You hum a response and close your eyes, taking in his familiar scent. He does the same and all you can hear is the birds chirping outside along with the rhythmic sound of each other's breathing. You hold onto him a little tighter and you both lay there in comfortable silence. Taking in each other's presence, you both slip back into sleep. Holding each other hoping to stay like this forever.

[prettybiching]

Okay writing this is 😳 but here goes: can you write a John King x fem reader fanfic with rough, unprotected sex where she goes back to work with cum dripping out of her 🙈

+ Omg your John King fanfic is my life. Thank you thank you thank you. Can you write one where they’re in the studio and JK bends her over his desk? 

+ First of all, thank you for your amazing writing and for opening John King requests. It’s everything I never knew I needed. Second, I’m not even going to ask for this anonymously because I have no shame anymore. If you’re open to it: John King fic request: female reader x Map Daddy. Spanking.

Attention

Pairing: John King x fem!reader

Warning: 18+ mature scenes (viewer’s discretion is advised), rough sex, choking, sir kink, spanking, unprotected sex ( don’t do that ), dirty talking, I think that’s it?

Word Count: 2,335 words

Note: My last John King oneshot did way better than I expected lmao. Decided to join these three requests together because,,,I got WAY into it xD

PS: Feel free to request anything on my inbox. I promise I will write them, I’m just a slow af writer. Thanks for all the love and support, mwah!

You knew what was coming for you even before John asked you to join him in his office after the show.

He had been busy the whole week, barely paying you any attention. So, you decided to take matters into your hand. At first, it was your outfit that he noticed, the red dress he loved so much clung onto you in all the right places. You chose to ignore his unmoving burning gaze. Instead, you conversed with the camera crew and the producers.

However, the last test of his patience came when you texted him a picture of what you were wearing underneath, his favourite lingerie.

You tried not to giggle in anticipation, hearing him take a sharp breath before locking his phone. His eyes shifted towards you, a smirk plastered on your lips. He shot you a menacing glare, warning you not to tempt him. If it were any other day, you would've obliged like a good girl, waiting for your turn, but not today. Today, you wanted to be a brat.

"John?" you called out for him, fluttering your eyelashes at him, feigning oblivion to his current state.

He turns around at the sound of your voice, looking seemingly unbothered. Without saying a word, he gives you a once over, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling the sleeves of his dress shirt. You tried not to let your eyes linger on the veins of his exposed forearms. No, your resolve was not going to melt.

"Come here," he instructs, his voice is calm yet commanding. If it weren't for his blown pupils, you might've thought the past hour didn't even happen. You roll your eyes, not wanting to give in to his demanding demeanour, no matter how aroused you were.

Your feet remained glued to the floor, unmoving. Once John took notice, he tried again. "Y/N," his voice was stern, leaving no place for a counter-argument, "I said, come here."

He is leaning against his desk, his arms crossed across his chest as he watches you come up to him, a hint of a devilish smile on your lips. You stand between his legs, only an inch between the two of you.

"What?" you bite, feigning disinterest.

He lets out a cocky laugh, shaking his head. "You're walking on thin ice, sweetheart," He says, and you have to bite back a moan at his tone. "How about you lose that attitude, do what I tell you, and I'll be nice."

However, you don't want nice, not after he's been ignoring you for a whole week. So, rolling your eyes, you cross your arms.

"No, I don't think I will."

The look on his face tells you he wasn't expecting that answer. Yet, he recovers quickly, a smirk growing on his lips before he swiftly leans forward and grabs your wrist, yanking you between his thighs. You have to catch yourself on his broad shoulders as you stumble from the firm tug, your stomach flush against his chest. His fingers fall to the back of your thighs before sliding up until they rested on your ass. He gave your cheeks a tight squeeze, holding you against him.

"You want to be a brat today, huh?"

Despite the tingling anticipation in your core, you're not about to give in easily. You were going to make it as strenuous for John as you could. You shoot him a glare, clicking your tongue, "Who said I'm in the mood?" You tried to push back against his shoulders, trying to create some space between the two of you, but his grip on you is unyielding.

"You are not in the mood, you say?" he asks, leaning against your ear, his warm breath over your skin, and you nod, trying not to gulp. "Then why do I smell you from here?" he nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck and subconsciously, you tilt your head to the side, giving him access to your bare skin. His fingers creep beneath the fabric of your dress, playing with the hem of your panties.

By now, your panties are soaking wet. After waiting for over a week for John to touch you, fuck you again, you were getting desperate. The way carried himself during the taping of the show didn't help either. Fuck him and his sinful mouth and intelligent brain.

His eyes remain fixated on you as he hooks his fingers into your underwear and slides them down your legs, until John leans forward, his cheek brushing your hip so he can pull them down himself. You step out of them, and his back straightens up, putting the piece of ruined fabric into his pants pocket.

"Bend over the desk."

"Baby, c'mon. We don't have time, just fuck me, you can spank me all you want later," You let out a whine, tucking out your bottom lip in a pout.

"So suddenly you are in the mood," he arched his brow. "Bend over the desk, now! You don't want to piss me off any more than I already am," he states sternly.

You unhurriedly move from in between his legs, but you are too slow for his liking. Before you can react, John again yanks you by your wrist before pushing you against the desk. One hand gently settles on the back of your neck, holding your head down, and the other starts trailing down your hem before slowly creeping up your thigh, tucking up the skirt of your dress, until you feel the cool air of the room brush against your wet pussy.

You clutch the edge of the desk with your palms, edging yourself and before you know it, the hand on your leg lifts itself up and strikes your right cheek. Your body jerks rightfully but the fingers around your neck tighten, preventing you from moving too much.

“Not so tough now, huh?” He says, stroking the sore skin. “How many do you think you deserve?” you shrug as best as his hold on you allows you. “If I remember correctly,” he pauses, just to brush his fingers against your pussy lips, smiling to himself when he feels the arousal leaking out of you. “You were being naughty.” He spanks your other cheek. “Sending those pictures when we had all those people surrounding us.” For that, the next hit lands on your right cheek again and you didn’t think before you dare to open your mouth.

"Really? You haven't fucked me in a week. If you keep on doing that I'll have to start taking care of it myself."

“Just for that, I’m adding five more for raising your voice at me and disobeying me.”

He spanks you for everything he listed, caressing your sore butt in between each hit and you are on the verge of crying, the tears in your eyes about to fall down your cheeks. When you think John is finished, you release a relieved breath, but suddenly, he strikes you three more times, without any break and you cry out, squeezing your eyes shut, the tears finally rolling down.

“That was for rolling your eyes at me,” he growls before leaning down, brushing his lips against your ear as he whispers, “now, what do you call me when we are alone?” You just need a minute to catch your breath to reply, but he’s not having it. “Answer me right now, or I’ll spank your ass raw, you won’t even be able to sit right. What do you call me?” he asks again.

“Sir,” You whimper quietly, and he smiles.

“Good girl.” He forces your body up with the hand on your throat and adjusts you on the desk, but before you can make yourself comfortable, he grabs your hips, pulling you up, so your ass is in the air.

His touch disappears for a moment and when you adjust your head to be able to get at least a little peek at him, your cheek pressed against the hardwood desk, you see him loosening his tie. He grabs your arms and crosses them at your wrist on the small of your back, tying them together with the piece of fabric.

He kisses each palm and then continues up your bare arm, licking, sucking, and biting, until his lips reach your shoulder covered by the short sleeve of your dress. “You okay, sweetheart?” He knows you are, but just to be sure.

“Yes, sir,” you smile, and he kisses the exposed skin of your neck.

Then, he kneels on the floor behind you, coming face to face with your glistening cunt, and he needs to adjust himself at its sight. He curls his fingers around your thighs and starts kissing them, getting closer to your core and his eyes close on their own accord when he inhales your smell. His lips finally make contact with your lower ones, his tongue licking a stripe from your clit to your entrance before he pulls away and hums, leaving you trembling.

“John!” You whine from the loss as your frustration grows, and he bites the tender skin of your ass.

“Baby, call me that one more time, and you aren't coming for a very long time.”

Your breath shudders when you exhale, “I’m sorry, sir.”

If it was any other time and any other place, he would take his time to properly punish you, but someone could knock on the door any second, and John has honestly been dying to devour you all day.

He spreads your cheeks and leans forward, finally burying his face into your cunt, his tongue finding the little bundle of nerves, and you moan, your eyes rolling in your head from the feeling of his soft tongue relieving the ache.

He takes the bud between his lips, sucking harshly and you buck your hips, causing him to grunt, and the vibrations go straight into your clit, more slick dripping from your hole. He didn't let a single drop go to waste as he licks up to your entrance, slurping the juices along the way before he starts plunging his tongue in and out of you. You bite your lip, trying not to make too loud sounds.

“That feel good?” he pulls away to ask, replacing his tongue with his thumb as he waits for your answer, rubbing your clit in quick circles.

“So good, sir. Let me cum, please,” you whimper and he smirks.

“You’re lucky we are in a time crunch or else I would take my sweet time to take this sweet pussy apart,” to emphasize it, he thrusts his thumb into you and pinches your sensitive clit between two fingers, another moan escaping your lips.

He slides his thumb back down to your clit, quickly circling it as he dives into you again, massaging your walls with the soft muscle until the knot in your belly starts tightening. You bite onto your lips to prevent yourself from screaming as the dam finally breaks, and you are cumming, John, drinking up everything your pussy has to offer and he needs to force himself to pull away, your taste almost too addictive.

Before you know it, the sound of his belt clanking reaches your ears, and a moment later, you feel his hand on your hip while the other gets a hold of his cock, positioning the tip at your entrance before pushing himself slowly into your heat. He groans while you mewl, filling you to the hilt and giving you some time to adjust to his size.

He starts with slow thrusts once he feels you constrict around him and the hand that wasn't bruising your hip grips the knot that holds your wrists together, giving himself leverage when he begins to quicken his pace.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby. So tight.”

And he feels incredible, too, his cock reaching all the right places, the familiar tingling reappearing again as your thighs start to quiver. He leans over you, his chest to your back as his hand on your hip slides down and starts rubbing your clit.

“You gonna cum, sweetheart?” his warm breath hits the shell of your ear. “You’re close, aren’t you? I can feel your pussy squeezing around me. God.”

“Please, sir.” You mewl, and he growls at your innocent voice, picking up his pace even more so, his thrusts becoming harder and your tied hands grasp his wrist.

“Cum for me, baby.” He nips at your ear and with a few more thrusts, you’re cumming again, not able to hold in the moans anymore. He rides you through it, chasing his own orgasm and when you feel his hot cum filling you up, he stills, his breath brushing your cheek as he pants.

Once he comes down from his high, he kisses your jaw and stands up, pulling himself from your heat, and you hiss at the feeling. He puts his cock into his boxers and zips his pants before he unties your hands, revealing the light red marks on your wrists. You stretch your hands a little before you bring them under yourself to lift yourself up, the skirt of your dress falling back down around your thighs and covering your now-glistening intimate parts. You can feel his warm cum trailing down your thighs as you attempt to stand back up.

Turning around, you stay leaning against the desk, looking up at John with those big eyes that make him weak in the knees. The corner of his mouth lifts at the sight of your dishevelled state; your hair is messy, your lips were swollen red from biting on them, a trail of dried tears run down your cheek and his cum still dripping out of you.

When you went back in front of the camera, you were evidently chirpier, your skin glowing and if anyone knew why they didn't bother bringing it up. Although, John's wide smirk when he watched you limp back to the studio might've given it away.

[pascalls]

Blinding Lights

Charlie finds solace in a familiar face after a run-in with Lovejoy.

I WANTED TO WRITE SOME CHARLIE x SAM ROMANCE SO HERE YOU GO.

Music: Blinding Lights - The Weeknd

For once, the anticipation that had settled in his clawed toes was not unpleasant.

It had been about three weeks since he’d last seen his… friend. Sam had ventured off on one of his lengthy hauls and Charlie was left to try making conversation with Larry whenever he stopped by Moe’s after work. The man was not the best conversationalist. Even less so than Sam. But it was, at least, company. Even if the late nights were earning him some ire whenever he made an attempt to return to the Lovejoy’s. Which he was beginning to fret about, whenever it came time to do so. Helen had been suspicious, as of late, wandering down into the basement at inopportune times and forcing the hybrid to take cover behind some piece of furniture or clamber out the window before he could be spotted.

Helen was clever. It wouldn’t take her very long to figure out what was going on, if he wasn’t cautious.

So he spent more time away, taking advantage of Moe’s cranky brand of hospitality and crashing in the man’s bed alongside him on more than one occasion. Regrettably, the paychecks that were coming from the school were still not enough for him to find his own place. But it was enough to make sure that he could get food regularly and the occasional small trinket or gift for Connor when he was able to see his son.

It was an improvement.

The muggy late-Spring air signified that they were certainly in for some heat in the upcoming summer season. Despite the slight slick of sweat that had coated his back as he strolled down the sidewalk, he didn’t allow the humidity to dampen his spirits. A busy day at the school - there had been an unfortunate incident where several gym students ran headlong into some cacti that Willie had forgotten to remove before the class encountered it - had meant that he was looking forward to meeting Sam in the evening to unwind.

Since the fall, where Charlie had allowed a bit of drunken boldness to make a move on the older man - one that he hadn’t been sure would be reciprocated - the two spent quite a bit of time together. It was a pleasant contrast to the nearly constant paranoia that he dealt with when he spent any modicum of time with the reverend. Something internal told him that this was a good thing, but he did his best not to get too carried away. Even if he and Sam had shared a few more… intimate moments, he was loathe to get so comfortable that he expected it as a default of their ‘relationship’. Whatever that relationship was. It had not been so neatly defined thus far. Part of him was okay with that - it meant that perhaps he was not in so deep that he could make a drastic mistake. But the other part of him… Well. He was desperate, deep down, for some solid footing.

Luckily, he was patient.

As he watched the sun begin to dip beyond the horizon, Charlie made his way towards the depot where he knew Sam left his truck. At times, the man would opt to sleep in the cab instead of actually trying to get back to his home. And Charlie didn’t mind that so much. There was something homey and comforting about that tiny bedroom where they didn’t have much of a choice but to press into each other’s personal space. It made for a good wingman… on more than one occasion. But his desires were not always so lecherous, he reminded himself. Today, he just wanted to bring his friend a hot meal that he’d picked up on the way - some teriyaki chicken and chow mein, along with a few cans of Duff - and make up for the lost time. Sam had confided into his more than once that life on the road was a bit dull and dreary. Returning to Springfield was generally the highlight. Charlie had agreed, but did his best to not be… so blatantly enthusiastic about it.

Tugging uncomfortably at his mask, he eagerly picked up the pace. Sam had told him that he’d be back by seven-thirty, and it was nearing eight already. Charlie looked forward to ditching his uncomfortable attire in favor of just being himself. Sam had kept his word - that he would not tell anyone about Charlie’s secret - and had kept that just between them. Even when they were around Moe, who was just as wise to the truth as they were. Charlie respected the man’s ability to keep things to himself, and he welcomed the fact that Sam didn’t seem to mind at all. It was a little strange, he told Charlie once. But, he admitted, that he’d seen a lot stranger during his years on the road. Charlie didn’t argue with that, even if his hind-brain wanted to. But it made the nights that they spent together a lot less strenuous. No hiding, no pretense. Sam was easy-going and confident in himself and what he liked. The hybrid found it… a little intimidating, at times. And might have found it almost frightening if Sam didn’t have a distinct way of putting him at ease.

Ugh. He felt himself a little hot in the face, just thinking about it.

His route took him past the church where he hesitated, feeling sweat bead at his temple for an entirely different reason. Hidden underneath his disguise though he was, there was something oppressive about the building that loomed overhead. He’d been hesitant to be seen in the church anywhere near the reverend as of late. It had a tendency to come back to bite him. He’d also pulled himself away from Chalmers’ obvious attempts at corralling him into this or that. Alarm bells had been set off at some point and he panicked, keeping his distance from both Tim and Gary for the sake of his own hide. Something had told him that despite his churning desire to be wanted by either - or both - of them, it was unwise.

Still… it was hard to ignore those desires. Every time he caught Lovejoy’s eyes, it opened up a whole box of feelings that he tried his hardest to cram down. The effort made him want to puke, at the best of times. At the worst of times, he followed his feet and simply absconded from the situation.

“I see that you’re purposefully avoiding me,” said a voice from a few feet away. It made Charlie jump and nearly drop the noodles in his possession, but he managed to keep his grip on it, glancing over at the church’s sign which had been hiding the reverend in question. Oh. He must have been changing the words and… Charlie hadn’t noticed.

Defensive, Charlie let out a little snuff. But he did his best to keep his cool. He didn’t want to ruin his mood by getting into an argument. Especially not when he was already late in meeting Sam. The last thing he wanted was for the other man to think Charlie had stood him up. “I had plans. And I’ve been busy with work. I’m not avoiding you.” Internally, he wondered if maybe he was trying to reassure Tim. That he hadn’t forgotten about him. Even if their encounters were strained, once upon a time, he thought that the man might return those torrid feelings that the hybrid had clung to now for months.

“You’ve had a lot of plans the last couple of weeks,” Lovejoy replied, clearly suspicious of the hybrid’s motives. He shut the box of letters he’d been using to change out the sign, glancing down at the bag of food that Charlie was carrying. “Are you doing food delivery now?”

“No,” Charlie said calmly, ignoring the reverend’s initial observation. Sure. He had plans a lot. Which was mostly just crashing with Moe. But Lovejoy didn’t need to know every detail of his life. “If you wanted me to share my calendar with you, I would have. But you never asked.” It was a bit of a dig. To make Tim really consider how overbearing he was being. As usual, it probably wouldn't work. But that wouldn’t keep Charlie from making the attempt anyway. The holy man was usually too far up his own ass to realize.

Lovejoy tried his best to maintain his composure, drifting closer to the hybrid as if he were going to engage in friendly conversation with a parishioner. As he was expected to do. But his stare was still accusatory. And Charlie noticed that it looked like the man wasn’t getting much sleep, the dark circles underneath his eyes even more prominent. “Not knowing whether or not you’re down there makes it hard for me to figure out what I need to do to keep Helen off your trail. Checking in would at least be appreciated.”

The hybrid stared at Tim, trying his best not to let guilt jab at him from somewhere in the back of his mind. No, it wasn’t his problem if Tim wanted to continue to lie to Helen, whether or not Charlie was there. At this point, he was loath to say that he even wanted to keep being a secret from the reverend’s wife. The town gossip though she was, would anyone really believe her if she happened to mention that there was a reptilian succubus living in her basement?

Probably not.

Charlie breathed out a little sigh, leveling his stare at the other and refusing to duck his head to appear meek. “Then just assume I’m not. I’m making a fair enough income now. I can find other places to sleep that are a little more comfortable than under your train set.” It was a lie. Sort of. The income had nothing to do with the fact that he had an ally or two that he could rely on for a nice, warm bed. Even if Moe’s had a weird smell to it, he at least had a mattress. And Waylon was occasionally accommodating, as long as Charlie could provide a bit of ‘entertainment’ and distractions in the process. And Sam… Well… When he was in town, Charlie had never been turned away. It brought a bit of a warm feeling that settled in his belly and emboldened him just a little in the face of the reverend.

Tim looked a bit taken aback. As if he’d been slightly offended. “So… what, you don’t need me anymore?” It had been clearly meant as an attack, but there was a slight twinge of hurt in the man’s voice.

The hybrid looked away briefly, not meeting Tim’s gaze. He recognized when he was being guilted. Lovejoy was good at it. “That’s not what I said.” Maybe. Maybe he didn’t need Tim anymore. Despite the aching in his chest, he’d long-since been affirmed that there was nothing for him if he chased the expectation of being welcomed into the reverend’s arms. But he hesitated to admit that here and now. Not when he was running late to meet Sam. “I’m not ungrateful,” he continued. “I just… I’m not interested in burdening you with myself for any longer than I need to. You can’t tell me you don’t want that space back to yourself?” He turned the situation back around on Lovejoy, pressing him to say otherwise. Maybe trying to get him to admit something one way or another.

“I’m only concerned with what you’re telling people about me,” Tim said, tension in his shoulders. He didn’t like being cornered like that, Charlie knew.

“I’m not telling people anything. Even if I did, who would believe me? You’ve got… y’know. Jesus on your side or whatever. Anyone here would take your word over mine in a heartbeat.”

Lovejoy found it hard to argue with that, but he chased the urge to do so, taking a step which blocked Charlie’s way forward. Whether he did it on purpose or not, Charlie felt slightly threatened, feeling his scales bristle in mild fear underneath his clothes. The time was ticking by. Sam would undoubtedly believe that something had happened if the hybrid didn’t get going now.

“You’re my responsibility. If I let you wander around without knowing where you are or what you’re doing, who’s to say that Burns won’t come looking for you?” Lovejoy stared at Charlie with apparent conviction. “The bible says that a good shepherd lays down his life for his sheep.”

“I’m not a sheep!” Charlie snapped, though he did his best to keep his voice down. It was not yet night and there could be others passing by. “I’m sick of you calling me that. I wasn’t put here for you to guide me to the light. You’ve got plenty of people in there,” he pointed to the church, “waiting for you to tell them what to do and how to live. Just because you hit me with your car doesn’t make me one of them.” Angry though he was, he wanted nothing more than to leave. End the conversation. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200. So he pushed past the other, trying to make his way towards the depot again.

“I just want to save you!” Lovejoy called after him, desperation lacing his tone. But Charlie was not feeling kind.

“From what?” He called back to the other, whirling around to narrow eyes at him. “From my Sin? Because right now, the only thing I need to be saved from is you.”

Tim paused, clearly taken aback. “You don’t mean that.”

Exhaling into his mask, Charlie bit back an aggressive retort. “I only have so much fight in me,” he said, loud enough just for the other to hear above the buzzing of the nearby street lamp. “I can’t keep chasing something that you’ve told me time and time again is wrong. You tear me apart in six different ways every time you look at me and you still expect me to get on my knees and beg you for a single positive interaction. I don’t want to do that anymore.” He sighed again, shoulders slumping. “You know how I feel. How I’ve felt. If you don’t want to - or can’t - return that, then the onus is on me to move on.”

The reverend seemed rooted to the spot, unable to say anything in return for a few moments. As if he was having a hard time refuting what he was being told. Charlie knew he couldn’t. It had been more than enough times that he’d said to the hybrid that what he felt was wrong - they couldn’t be together. No matter what emotion or desire lay underneath the surface of Lovejoy’s religious shell. And Charlie was simply tired.

“I-” Tim began. But he was cut off as he looked up to see that they were no longer alone.

“Charlie?”

The hybrid turned back around to see that their conversation had been interrupted by Sam. He blinked in surprise, then moderate embarrassment. “God, what time is it?” He said, haphazardly trying to cover up what he and Lovejoy had just been discussing. “I didn’t mean to make you come this way to find me. I was on my way, honestly.” Sheepishly, Charlie smiled from behind his mask. It wasn’t immediately obvious, but Sam’s easy-going nature meant that he could return the gesture just as easily.

“It’s alright. I just thought something mighta happened. Glad t’see that you weren’t held up too much,” Sam replied cheerfully before his attention shifted to the reverend to whom he gave a courteous nod. “Rev.”

Lovejoy was tense from head-to-toe, forced to process Charlie’s last words and put one and one together to come to a conclusion that Charlie knew he’d hear about later. The reverend’s gaze was squarely on the barfly before he was able to regather his composure and return the nod. He didn’t know the man’s name. Had never bothered learning it, even if Sam made the rare appearance from time to time in the church. He had no particularly strong religious convictions.

Charlie glanced back at Tim nervously. No doubt, they’d have to pick up that conversation later. “It was nice to see you, Reverend,” he said after a moment. “We’ll chat again soon.”

Sam looked from Charlie over to Lovejoy, the tension in the air palpable. But he said nothing, gesturing for the hybrid to accompany him back to the depot. His home was a little too far for them to walk there without the trip taking them well into the night. So the truck would have to do for now. Not that he or Charlie minded very much.

Charlie followed behind, casting one last look at Lovejoy. He could swear that the holy man looked like he was about to break into a tirade, but he heard nothing and eventually focused fully back on Sam, hoping that his pre-planned rendezvous would block out the feeling that he’d just shattered Lovejoy’s heart in some type of way. Maybe because he knew how it felt…

“You alright?”

Sam’s voice broke through the veil of guilt that threatened to pull Charlie under. Shaking it off, Charlie glanced up at the other and nodded, allowing himself a slightly nervous laugh. “Yeah. Just… you know. Getting preached at sometimes kind of throws me off.”

“Didn’t seem like a typical sermon,” Sam replied, glancing at Charlie knowingly from behind his glasses.

Clearing his throat, Charlie tried not to make eye contact. He had a… difficult time lying to Sam. Whether it was because he genuinely trusted the man or didn’t want to lie to him, he wasn’t sure which. But he didn’t want to get into the particulars. Especially not when he felt like it… might put things at risk. Nope, he didn’t want that. “I brought you some food!” He said instead, holding up the bag with the chicken and noodles within. Hoping that would be a sufficient distraction. Luckily, Sam seemed to accept that the hybrid was not an open book at that exact moment, and he took the bag from the other before patting Charlie’s plastic beak affectionately.

“Y’can take that off if y’want. There’s nobody on these side streets and nobody at the depot. We shouldn’t be bothered any.”

Breathing out a little sigh of relief, Charlie tugged off the mask and cloak, holding them in his arms as they walked. It was becoming more of a chore to keep his disguise maintained from day to day. Whenever he got the opportunity to not wear it, he considered it a blessing.

“That’s better,” the barfly said with a little smile.

Charlie had to keep himself from giggling like a fucking school girl. Fuck. What was wrong with him? They’d certainly had more intimate moments than this, but something as simple as that tiny, hidden compliment had him reeling. Stupid.

They walked side by side until the depot fence came into view and the hybrid followed Sam through the gate and towards his rig. The bright red was always a stand-out and made it easy to identify. He was thankful for that, knowing that had he not been able to tell the difference, he may have frightened some random trucker on more than one occasion.

“Wasn’t too bad of a trip, I take it?” Charlie asked as he came to the door, waiting patiently as it was unlocked and Sam clambered inside, reaching out to offer a hand for Charlie to climb up right after him.

“Boring, but otherwise pretty run of th’mill,” Sam replied, shutting the door behind him and making his way back to the not-very-roomy bedroom that he slept in. Charlie set the bits of his disguise in the front seat and hopped back with him, making himself comfortable on the bed and giving a lazy stretch. Sam settled on the floor for now, opening up the food that Charlie had brought him and making short work of it. Obviously hungry.

“You never seem to have very interesting stories. Unless you keep them all under wraps.” Charlie scooted up behind Sam, rolling onto his back on the bed and batting gently at the man’s hat like a lazy cat.

“Warehouses and truck stops don’t really make for interestin’ conversation.” Sam removed his hat and placed it over Charlie’s face with a gentle huff of laughter in between bites of his food. Something about his rumble of a laugh made the hybrid’s stomach flip pleasantly. It was a comforting sound after his earlier confrontation with Lovejoy. “Besides, I have more interestin’ stories whenever you drag me into somethin’. Wouldn’ make sense t’tell you about ‘em when you were there.”

“Aw,” Charlie replied, sitting up and setting the man’s hat atop his own head to wear. Feeling a little goofy and giddy as he did so. “Didn’t realize you felt that way.~” His voice lilted teasingly as he settled into their usual back-and-forth routine of flirt after flirt. Despite Sam’s quiet, old-man demeanor that he normally carried around, they both played off each other fairly well. It was something Charlie cherished. And something he figured that not many others were able to experience when they were sharing Sam’s company. It made him feel… special. Wanted.

He kept that bit to himself.

“So…” Sam began once he’d finished his food and was working on one of the beer’s that Charlie had provided him with. The hybrid was not as interested in getting drunk tonight, but he’d more than adjusted to the perpetual scent of alcohol and cigarettes that had long-since settled into Sam’s clothes. In fact… there was a part of him that enjoyed it. “I’m guessin’ I didn’t actually interrupt a sermon earlier.”

Charlie tensed slightly, reaching up to remove Sam’s hat and set it aside as he shifted his gaze away from the other. Guilt threatened to bubble up inside of his gut again. “...That obvious, huh.”

“A little. Th’way he was lookin’ at you made it look like you’d ran over his dog.”

Scoffing, Charlie didn’t answer right away. Uncomfortable with the topic, but knowing that he likely owed Sam some form of explanation. He trusted the man. Though he worried, internally, that getting too far into his fucked up dynamic with the reverend would frighten Sam away for one reason or another.

“He was just upset that I wasn’t coming around as often. Mostly just been… minding my business whenever you’re not here. Hanging out with Moe… That kind of thing.” He hesitated to go into further detail than that. Sam didn’t need to know that he occasionally slept over with Smithers too. It made him feel like a little bit of a… slut… Not that he would say so.

“Uh-huh,” Sam replied, nursing his beer and seemingly lost in thought until he continued. “And he’s… not likin’ that he can’t keep tabs on you?”

“...Possibly.”

“Hm. Sounds like he’s upset that you’re not as obsessive over him as he wants you t’be.”

Charlie frowned a little to himself. Sam had probably hit the nail on the head. His tail curled around himself as his insecurities were brought to light, though he had a hard time being upset at Sam about it. The man was only saying what he’d been able to observe. It must have been pretty obvious, now that Charlie thought about it… “I’m sick of his hovering. It’s gotten out of control.”

“And y’told him that?”

“I tried to.” Charlie’s ears dropped back against his hair, admitting in a not-so-verbal way that he had not been as assertive as he probably should have been.

There was silence for a moment as Charlie stared down at the sheets on the bed and Sam seemed to be focused on his drink. Until he seemed to be finished with it and set it aside to toss in the garbage later, getting up with some effort and getting himself into the bed to sit next to the hybrid. Charlie glanced away from him. A bit ashamed that the topic of Lovejoy had been brought up at all. Drunkard or otherwise, Sam had some good powers of observation. As much as Charlie enjoyed his company, it made him feel like he was being seen right through.

“He’s gonna have t’accept that you’re your own person eventually. Whether or not he wants to,” Sam finally said after a few minutes had passed.

“I’m not even sure I’ve accepted that yet,” Charlie responded with a bit of a bitter laugh. He hadn’t meant to say that, but it came out of him all the same. “And the last thing I need is to put the burden on you to help me do that. It’s not your responsibility.” He found himself echoing what he’d told Lovejoy, but from… a different part of himself. With Lovejoy, it was through tired defeat that he tried to remove himself from the situation, but now… He just didn’t want to saddle Sam with more drama that the man surely didn’t need in his relatively quiet life.

Before he realized it, he felt a press against his shoulder, turning to glance at Sam as the other closed the distance between them, watching for a heart-pounding moment as the barfly reached to intertwine their pinkies as they had done several times before. It was a much more romantic gesture than Charlie had initially meant it to be the first time they’d done it. But now… It set his nerves alight and made him wish that his face weren’t so red.

“Might not be my responsibility, but m’happy to help you along,” he murmured to Charlie, the slight slur in his words not at all dampening the intent which made the hybrid wheeze a little with embarrassment as he unwittingly scooted his hand to take a more firm hold of Sam’s. Maybe clinging to it. Just a little. God help him.

“You could really fool everyone, you know. Into thinking you’re just ‘some guy’ at the bar,” Charlie said after a moment of trying to calm his racing heart. “And not… you. The you that I know.”

Sam chuckled a little. “The me that you know is not as drunk as I usually am.” Leaning over, he pressed a kiss to Charlie’s temple. A gesture which did not qualm the aggressive thump-thump going on inside of Charlie’s chest. He didn’t altogether understand why he couldn’t get himself together. He was not unfamiliar with the concept of being smitten, but he’d been denied a positive response to it for so long, that he hesitated to call it that this time too.

At least until another kiss was placed to the side of his face and he faltered, unable to resist allowing himself to hope. Maybe it would be different. Lovejoy never gave him this kind of affection so openly. Not without a fair amount of pestering. Not without an argument and harsh words. Not without pleading and tears and a thick, heavy feeling that hung around his head. Right now… all he felt was light. There was fear, but as the seconds ticked by, Charlie tried to muffle it.

And eventually he turned, meeting Sam’s gaze for a prolonged moment. It was honest, he thought. There was no sense of an ulterior motive. No reason for Charlie to believe that this was all a long-con. Sam was not that kind of man. Right?

Right?

His hesitation was not missed. Reaching up with his other hand - his fingers rough and calloused, Charlie noticed - Sam placed it gently against Charlie’s cheek. Holding his face delicately and softly, as though he was trying to provide the kindest support. To offer warmth through the touch that would squelch that fear.

God, Charlie thought.

Let me not be wrong again.

As though a dam had burst, Charlie leaned forward and captured Sam’s mouth with his own, drawing him into a heated and nearly desperate kiss that Sam returned after a moment of trying to process the act. Every time Sam went away for a while, the hybrid forgot just how warm and comforting his kisses were. His hands were strong, but kind. He tasted like beer and smoke, but Charlie couldn’t get enough. He drank in the affection to the point where he thought that it would drown him. But it would be a sweet death, Charlie thought.

For once, he forgot about Lovejoy. As he broke the kiss to take in a breath, he caught Sam’s eyes again.

“I missed you,” he blurted out against the other man’s lips, red in the face when he realized how brazen the admission was. But he certainly wouldn’t take it back. The feeling was only solidified with Sam nodded, a bit breathy in his murmur of agreement before Charlie felt himself being pulled into another kiss, toppling over and onto the bed as he felt Sam’s arms closing around him.

It hadn’t been the first time they’d spent the night together, but there was something different now. Charlie hesitated to put words to it, but as he felt himself get lost in the comfort and security of Sam’s presence, he knew that he would have to, eventually.

For now, he was okay with accepting the warmth and safety he was being offered. He was okay with murmuring more sweet words when he could find the words to say. He was okay with being vulnerable. He was okay with the warm, smoky sound of Sam’s voice in his ear. He was okay with the touch of his hands; the heat between their kisses; the thrumming of his own heart.

He thought about the next time Sam would have to go away for a while. It made him ache.

Maybe he’d tag along.

In the corner, his phone lay unattended, dutifully remaining in silent mode as the night wore on. The screen blinked lazily, but otherwise didn’t bother to alert its owner that he had missed several calls from the reverend.

They would go unanswered tonight.

[dagneyrobertson]

I get lonely on Thursday nights. Maybe not every Thursday night, but some Thursday nights, I get lonely. It's been eight months since I had steady companionship. It's been four and a half months since we moved out of our friend's place and into our own.

I enjoy being alone, or at least I used to. After 20 years married, and 15 years as a mother, alone is something I need to reacquaint myself with. My busy, crowded thoughts can spread out, just a bit, on Thursday nights. They also remind me that, although I am good company, I am only one. I long for conversation about something aside from work, anime or Kpop. I envision myself laying with my feet in someone's lap, strong hands kneading. It's those small things I miss, coffee already made, car windows scraped before I get to my car on a freezing cold morning, writing love notes on the bathroom mirror in lipstick.

Don't misunderstand. I love having my full size bed to myself. I've managed to fill my generous closet all by myself. I'm making this single mom thing happen. I just had a great review at work. It's been a year and half there, 9 months in this position. I love training. I enjoy the people I work with, and believe I am well liked.

Somehow, I recently let myself get talked into running for a municipal clerkship. Honestly, I was considering a part-time job, and this would fit into my routine. I would be taking minutes, keeping records, cutting ribbons, nothing strenuous. So I've been chatting people up and getting signatures for the past few weeks. It's gives me kind of a frontline view of how suspicious everyone is right now, talking local politics with the national election not yet in the rear view mirror. City and village positions are non-partisan. No need to declare a party loyalty. No reason to talk about it. Yet everyone asks. There is such an Us vs. Them dynamic that no one wants someone from the other party keeping The Minutes. Clerks don't even vote. Truthfully, I see that as my growth opportunity here, biting my tongue and not having an opinion. It's good to try new things. Lol.

Anyway. I'm not so lonely, anymore. Thanks for letting me spend the better part of hour spilling my guts. I appreciate your time. Writing is better than logging on to Plenty of Fish, cathartic instead of distractive. There are better things to do than paging through "local singles". *cracking knuckles* Now, back to my plan for Village domination.

If someone asks you to sign a petition so they can get on a ballot? Be kind and humor them They are clearly crazy.

Good night my Tumblrs,

Dagney

[trashi-bee]

Caught Red-Handed, Pt.1?

Pairing: Reader x Rude asf! Nikki x Vince x Tommy

Warnings: 18+ pls, language, mentions of alcohol, degradation, choking, hair pulling

Lil Summary: Reader works at a diner that the boys frequent, becomes infatuated with them and follows them home (based off of early 80′s Motley) 

Also! I got a lot of inspiration from @thewritingdoll​ when writing this! (she wrote a piece that included reader! breaking into somebody's house and I really wanted to write something of my own that incorporated that! xox) .. also for some reason I tried to edit this post and I deleted like all the text so sorry if you’re seeing this again but I had to reformat it lol 

You felt so pathetic, being so easily tempted by the three most deplorable boys to step foot within your little diner. They came every Sunday morning, smelling of jack, sweat, and whatever whore they were with the night before. 

At first you hated them, fucking despised them. They were loud, disrespectful and refused to treat anybody with an ounce of respect. 

“Fill up my cup, would you kitten?”, the blonde haired stunner you’ve learned goes by Vince quips, flashing you a sly grin as you stroll towards the group with a pot of fresh brew in hand. Pouring a cup of coffee has never felt so strenuous, simply being in their presence makes your face flush and your knees go weak. 

As soon as you’ve finished your assigned task you turn to leave, only to be held back by a hand placed on your forearm. “What’s the rush, baby?” Nikki’s mischievous olive hues lock with yours, “a little company would be appreciated, sit down”. Being ordered by a drunken punk should make you furious, but instead you feel your sex throb at the thought of how else he could boss you around. 

“I’d love to stay, but my boss-“ you’re interrupted mid sentence, Tommy pulls you towards him and places you in the booth. “Don’t be silly, we’re the only people here”, he interjects, you turn and realize he’s right - had you been that preoccupied with your thoughts that you failed to realize you were alone? alone with the boys who crept their way into your dreams and flooded your head with all the possible ways they could use you. 

“Oh.. right, I guess I could stay for a minute”, your mouth goes dry and your heartbeat increases tenfold, why did they have this effect on you? 

“We’ve been coming here every Sunday for a few months now, long enough to tell you’re never very busy, yet you always find a way to avoid us when we come in- no need to be scared, kitten, we don’t bite'', Nikki intervenes once again, he’s undoubtedly the leader of the pack.

You’re caught off guard, searching for the perfect excuse, just as you feel a mischievous hand crawling up the side of your upper thigh, making its way towards your core. “I- uh- I haven’t meant to stay away from you guys, I’m just usually the only worker here”. Tommy smirks from beside you, aware of the damage he’s causing. 

Thankfully, you’re pulled from the situation when you hear the familiar ring of the door being opened on the opposite end of the diner, in walking an elderly man, making his way towards the counter. You slide out of the booth and take your still warm pot of coffee along with you, heading towards the man that saved you from utter humiliation. 

You’ve barely left his side, forcing small talk to pass the time, ignoring the three boys across the room. After what felt like an eternity, they finally left. You weren’t sure if you were relieved that you’d finally have some peace and quiet, or disappointed that more hadn’t happened. 

The weeks continued to pass and they continued to come every Sunday, hitting on every living and breathing piece of ass to pass their table, yet they became more courteous towards you, no longer making snide remarks and ogling you as you bent over to refill their mugs.. and honestly, it hurt more than you’d like to admit. 

As time passed, your desire to be mistreated and degraded by the ill-mannered boys increased, it took over your every thought. Not only was Sunday difficult, but you found yourself thinking about them every day of the week, you had to see more of them, learn more about them. And that’s when you followed them home. 

You’d come to learn they lived together, and that they didn’t really have a schedule as they played in a band together. Partying throughout the night, waking up in the afternoon and doing it all over again the next day. 

You’ve been watching them for a while, unsure of when exactly you’d be able to sneak inside their apartment as they were really hard to track- then it hit you.. the only time you were sure they’d be away was Sunday morning. 

You took off your Sunday shift for the first time in months, sad you wouldn’t be seeing them this week but overjoyed that you’d be able to rummage around in their dirty little play pin. 

Getting in wasn’t too difficult, as their door had been kicked in by the cops so many times they had to nail it shut and leave the window open in order to enter. The interior is exactly what you’d imagined it to be, broken glass strewn across the floor, ripped clothes covering the few pieces of furniture they own, a vast array of stains decorate the carpet, the air smells of Jack Daniels and a strong musk, their natural odor, and it’s so fucking intoxicating. 

You have no idea where to start, so you wander down the hall in front of you, entering the first room you find. A dresser overflowing with leather pants and band t-shirts, a bed lying on the floor and posters covering the wall. In the corner, a white bass. This was Nikki’s room. 

What now? Do you take something, or play it safe? Would they notice if you took a few mementos? A shirt or two couldn’t hurt- the idea of lounging around at home in their clothes sounded fantastic, you had to take something, anything. 

Getting down on your knees in front of the overfilled dresser, you pulled open the bottom drawer, pawing through the mess and taking in the scent that enveloped each piece of apparel. 

That’s when you heard them, entering the apartment through the same window you’d crawled through only moments ago - how could they be back already! You’ve calculated this so perfectly, they’d never missed a Sunday at the diner, ever. You were fucked, absolutely terrified and with nowhere to hide, there was no getting out of this. You froze in place, a single set of footsteps heading towards the room you were in, how would you explain this? Would you have to quit your job? You’d never be able to face them again. 

“Well, boys, I guess we know why our little pet wasn’t at work today”, Nikki calls out, staring you down, a playful and arrogant smirk growing on his lips. “Care to explain why the fuck you’re in my room, bitch?”, you open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out, embarrassed and defeated, you look towards your feet. 

“Lost for words, little girl?”, you hear him step closer, so close that you can smell the bittersweet scent of alcohol that radiates off his body. The other two enter the room to find what Nikki’s discovered, the waitress from the diner down the road standing in their apartment, caught red-handed. 

Calloused fingers reach underneath your chin, forcing your head upwards so that you’re staring into the eyes of the Nikki Sixx, your lips only inches away from his own. “I asked you a question, didn’t I? I expect an answer, little one”, you search your head for something, anything, biting down on your lip and batting your lashes, you decide on the safest option available, “I partied here a few days ago and left something behind, I came back to get it”.

The three men laugh in unison, causing your stomach to do flips, they didn’t believe you. “If you were here, we would’ve noticed, do you think I’m dumb, bitch?”. You shake your head, cheeks flushing and your sex throbbing at the derogatory names he’s been referring to you with. You’re in the most vulnerable position you’ve ever found yourself in, the three most filthy boys in the city towering over you, enclosing you. Nikki peers behind you, an evil grin spreading across his plump lips “you were going through my dresser, weren’t you?”, you feel Vince run his digits through your hair, grabbing at your locks and pulling you back to look him in the eyes “little fuckin’ thief, huh?”.

Nikki looks you over, he says nothing but his demeanor shows that he demands a proper explanation. The grip Vince has on your hair tightens. Nikki places his hands on your waist, pushing the fabric of your shirt up to expose a few inches of skin. The fear you felt moments ago now mixes with excitement and lust, an intoxicating mixture of danger and pleasure. 

“I think I’ve figured it out, boys, little miss shy wanted to gather a few treasures to keep for herself- gather a few shirts to smell as she toys with her pussy at night, thinking of the sleazy boys from the diner fucking her stupid”, a whimper passes your lips, Tommy chuckles, “I think that’s exactly what this little bitch was up to, weren’t you taught not to steal?” Your eyes meet, his grin matching Nikki's, pure evil. 

“Only a twisted little whore would follow us back to our house and rummage through our dirty clothes” Vince chimes in from behind, pressing his stiff member firmly against your ass. The hold on your hair is finally released, your head falling forward, just in time for Nikki to wrap his hand around your neck, his free hand pushing apart your lips, two fingers reaching the back of your throat. Your eyes water as you choke on the thick digits invading your mouth. Drool drips down your chin and onto your clothed chest, Nikki pulls his hand free, smearing the spit that covers his fingers across your face. 

“See, we could make a big deal out of this-“ Nikki gestures to the space around him, alluding to the space you had broken into “..Maybe tell your boss you took off your shift to break into our lovely home, or, which I think is the better option, you could finally let us have a little fun with you”.

Your eyes light up, ecstasy pumping through your veins. Primal instincts had taken control, you were nodding your head in agreement before you had even considered his propositions. “Do anything you want to me- anything”.

[fanfictionaries]

In My Head - Cloudy’s 200 Follower Hyperbole Challenge

Prompt: “I swear to you, I saw it! It was like a baby’s arm holding an apple!”

Pairing: Steve Rogers X female reader

Summary: Being a technological genius had its ups and downs. The downs being you spent more time in your head than you did in the real world. What happens when that character trait has you seeing a whole new side to Steve Rogers? A lot of new sides. 

Words: 4.1k

Warnings: Smut, Swearing, Oral, Throat-Fucking, Dirty Talk, Size Queen, Rough, slight Dom/Sub?, NSFW/18+ only

Author’s Note: Thank you @crushedbyhyperbole ! This was a lot of fun and congratulations on 200 followers! <3 

***

It was your fault, really. You were never known for being overtly present. In truth, unless it was completely required, focusing on the world around you was rarely your main priority. Some called you spacey. Others an airhead. But really it was just that you had more things to think about than where you were going or what the people around you were doing. Your high functioning intelligence made things like algorithms and technical designs the forefront of your attention, while everything else just seemed to blend into the background. White noise. That’s why Tony saw you as such an asset to his lab. There was nothing he loved more than someone who focused on their work so much that everything else took the back burner. So, you never felt the need to be apologetic about your airy personality. If Tony found it acceptable and you found it natural, then why was there a need to change?

Well, the events of that afternoon were a testament to the downfalls of your nature. You were stuck on a problem. You couldn’t get the circuitry on Nat’s new and improved Black Widow’s Bites. It kept shorting out and it was driving you insane. The frustration was manifesting itself throughout your body, agitation and pent up energy coursing through your veins. Deciding to run it off, you left your lab in the basement of the compound and made your way to the gym. Hopping onto one of the many treadmills, you whipped out a strenuous three miles, letting your mind wander over your problem with each step. By the time you stopped the machine, you were sweaty, out of breath, and thoroughly satisfied. You were pretty positive you’d fixed the circuitry issue, the only thing left to do was go back to the lab and apply it physically. Lost in thought, you wandered into the locker room, planning on rinsing off and changing into your work clothes. Steam billowed from the shower area, the sound of water running from a single stall. Making your way to your locker, you began to strip in front of it. Dirty clothes piled on the bench in front of you, you opened your locker to grab your towel and soap only to find it empty. What the heck? Where were your clothes? Maybe you were in front of the wrong one. Opening the locker next to it, you found that one empty as well. A few more lockers opened, and you were thoroughly confused. Empty. All of them empty. You were sure that you’d chosen a locker in that area. Coming back to reality in a rare moment of clarity, you looked around you to see that yes, you were in a locker room, but it looked wrong. Everything seemed…flipped.

The squeak of the shower faucet turning off caught your attention instinctually. Looking to your left, you saw the curtain slide open and to your horror Steve Rogers completely naked. You stood frozen; eyes wide as you took in his impressive form. Sinewy, wet muscle stretched from his traps to his obliques, the sharp cut of his adonis belt pointing like an arrow to a light brown patch of curls. What sat below, caught you completely off guard. Steven Grant Rogers had the largest cock you had ever seen in your life. It was a few moments before Steve noticed you as well. Wide eyed and slack jawed, the time ticked on as the two of you stood rooted to the spot in shock, unable to look away from each other’s naked forms. The distant sound of heavy gym equipment broke you from your trance and you let out a squeak, breaking Steve from his stupor as well.

“What the hell (Y/N)!?” exclaimed Steve, covering himself with his hands and staring up at the ceiling. But it was too late, you’d seen it all and so had he. “Why are you naked?!”

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” you cried, running from the room and putting your clothes on as quickly as possible without tripping. You ran barefoot through the gym, your shoes long forgotten on the bench in the locker room. You didn’t stop until you made it all the way to your lab and even then, you didn’t stop.

You’d been in your lab for the past week, working nonstop. Locking yourself away seemed like the best option, and so you only left the small space for necessary provisions like food and bathroom breaks. The loveseat you kept in the room had become incredibly handy as well, allowing you to take small cat naps in between your work.  You hoped that if you could keep your mind occupied, you wouldn’t think about what you’d seen. You wouldn’t think about all that you’d seen. All that he’d seen. But alas, it was no use. All the important and creative things that usually floated through your mind, blinding you to the outside world, were gone. Replaced by more…inappropriate but equally creative things.

Lost in a vivid daydream of riding Captain Steve Rogers till the cows came home, you didn’t realize that the soldering iron you’d been using had slipped from your grip and was currently burning a hole through the sleeve of your shirt. When the searing pain of 400 degrees Celsius came into contact with your arm, you jumped back clutching your arm to your chest.

“Fuck! Motherfucking fuck! Jesus motherfucking Christ! Mother fuck, fuck, FUCK!” You scrambled to the sink, yanking up your sleeve and turning the cold water on high.

“Whoa, put a quarter in the swear jar, why don’t ya?” Natasha’s voice rang through the room, obviously having heard your outburst. She came to your side, observing your arm through the clear stream of water, a bored expression plastered her face. “Ehh, I’ve seen worse.”

“You’ve seen worse than a 400 degree Celsius burn?” you asked incredulously, the burning sensation beginning to dwindle as the cold water numbed the pain and flesh.

“Don’t suppose you’ve ever seen what a Vietnam land mine can do to a man, have you?” Natasha asked with blasé, picking up the soldering iron from the floor and turning it off before carefully placing it in its stand.  

“Point made,” you responded, turning the water off and delicately toweling off the area. You inspected your arm further; it wasn’t the worst thing you’d done to yourself in the lab. It may blister, but not bad enough to warrant a hospital visit. Moving to the first aid kit, you pulled out the burn cream and ointment, applying it to your arm followed by a large bandage.

“You’ve been noticeably absent. What’s been keeping you all cooped up?” Nat asked. Her tone was casual, but you’d known her long enough to know that no question from Natasha Romanov was ever casual. Chances are, by the time she was asking you a question she already knew the answer.

“I take it you’ve spoken to Steve then,” you sighed, moving to your workbench and beginning to fiddle with the first thing you saw.

“Something like that—" Natasha smirked “—If you count him glaring at me and insisting it was none of my business, then yes it was a riveting conversation.”

“Then you don’t know what happened?”

“I may have gotten Steve to spill the beans,” said Nat, fighting a small smirk. You rolled your eyes. Spies and their interrogation skills.  

“I didn’t mean to walk in on him! I was thinking about how to fix your stupid bites and—”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault?” Natasha raised a speculative eyebrow at you, making you backtrack.

“No, no, I just—I saw…I saw him naked Nat! And he saw me naked and…”

“And?” Natasha asked, not fazed at all as to why it was such a big deal.

“I saw him naked and I liked it!” you admitted, leaning over your workbench and burying your face into the cold metal top.

You heard the crass bark of Natasha’s laughter, “Of course you liked it (Y/N), he’s a super soldier. I doubt you’d find a guy nearly as built as him.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about his…ya know!”

“Oh? Please elaborate,” said Natasha, leaning against the workbench opposite of you.

With a heavy sigh, you stood up, holding out your hands out to represent the length of Steve’s well…length. Natasha gasped, “No! You’re lying!”

“I swear to you, I saw it! It was like a baby’s arm holding an apple!”

“Okay – you have officially been spending too much time with Tony,” said Natasha, walking over to you and placing her hands on your shoulders. “Look – you’re going to have to get over this sooner rather than later and by sooner, I mean a few seconds because I may have agreed to distract you so that you couldn’t run when Steve came down here to talk to you.”

“You what?!”

Just as you made to run for the door, Steve walked through it, the entirety of him making the space feel small. You stood there, staring at each other in awkward silence.

“Well—" said Natasha cutting the tension “—I can see that the two of you have a lot to discuss. I’ll just be going.”

And with that the red head was gone, leaving the two of you to stand in silence. You stared at the ground, unable to look at the man without thinking about his…oh god, you couldn’t even say it in your head. In all honesty, it shouldn’t be surprising that the super soldier was packing, but you never expected it to be so MASSIVE. God, this was wrong. He was a human being. Not just some piece of meat. Some thick…big…piece of delicious meat.

“Look, about what happened—” Steve began, but you cut him off.

“I’m so sorry Steve. Really, I wasn’t thinking, and I thought I walked into the women’s locker room and apparently it was the men’s locker room and I really shouldn’t have ogled you the way I did and—”

Steve chuckled, stopping your apology in its tracks, “You’re sorry? Here I thought you were upset with me for checking you out.”

“Truthfully, I didn’t even notice. I was too…um, you were checking me out?”

Steve went bright red, “Well, I mean, yea. You’re a beautiful woman and you were naked. I mean, I’m Captain America, but I’m no saint.”

“Oh.” You were quiet, letting his words settle. Steve thought you were beautiful. That was news to you. “Well, I guess while we’re being honest, you were pretty impressive to look at as well.” Some parts more than others.

“And what parts would that be?”

It wasn’t until Steve asked, eyebrows raised and an amused look on his face that you realized you’d said that last part aloud. Shit.

“Is it my…arms? Legs? Chest?” Steve asked, stepped towards you slowly with a teasing tone in his voice.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, leaning your head back and closing your eyes. You were thoroughly embarrassed.

“Come on (Y/N), tell me. I need to know what my best feature is.” Clearly Steve was trying to lighten the mood, but if he knew what you really thought his ‘best feature’ was, he wouldn’t be treating this so lightly.

“I don’t really want to—”

“Is it my shoulders? I tend to get complimented on them a lot. Or is it my—”

“Your penis! It was your penis Steve! You literally have the biggest dick I’ve ever seen!” Your hands flew to your mouth, as if you could retroactively grab the words and stuff them back into your brain.

Shock splashed across Steve’s face before quickly dissolving into something different. He took another step towards you, crossing his arms and emphasizing the bulging muscles of his upper body.

“Oh my god. I am absolutely mortified. Please, can we just pretend like I didn’t just—”

“Like you didn’t just say I have the biggest dick you’ve ever seen?” Steve asked, smirking down at you, arms still crossed. The words sounded so delicious coming from his lips and heat began to pool in your center.

“Jesus…yes. That. Can we just pretend like I didn’t say that?” you pleaded. The last thing you needed was Steve of all people teasing you about this.

“Hmmmmm, I don’t think I can.” Steve looked down at you in mock thought, his expression speculative.

“Steve, please. Don’t do this,” you pleaded again, turning away from him and moving across the lab to fuss with some equipment. Maybe if you physically distanced yourself, he’d understand that you didn’t find the joke funny in the least. It might also calm you down – your nipples were so hard you were sure they could be seen through the many layers of clothing you wore.

“Do what?” Steve asked from behind you, his voice slowly growing louder as he approached your turned figure. “I’m just curious. Tell me, have you been thinking about my cock all week? Is that why you’ve been hiding? Avoiding me? Because you can’t stop thinking about it?”

You turned, meeting the hard flesh of his chest. How had he snuck up on you so easily? His words were antagonistic, but seeing his face up close, you realized that his eyes held a dangerous glint to them. You used your tongue to wet your lips, throat suddenly feeling dry, “I um…I—that’s—well that’s just ridiculous.”

“Really? I don’t think so—” He uncrossed his arms, leaning down to brace them against the countertop behind you, invading your space “—I haven’t been able to stop thinking about your body either. How it looked. How it would feel in my hands. Would it would be like to have you under me. Over me. Those perfect lips wrapped around me.”

His words had you in a trance. Had Steve really been fantasizing about you the way you’d been fantasizing about him? There was no way he was interested in you seriously. What would he want with the space cadet in the labs? It had to be purely physical. You’d never been one for casual anything. Still, the thought of his hard, long member in your mouth made you salivate. You squirmed, thighs rubbing together and a small whimper escaping your lips.

“Oh (Y/N), sweetie. If you wanted a taste, all you had to do was ask,” said Steve, his tone condescending. Reaching a hand up, he tapped you lightly on the nose before pushing away from you and reaching for his belt. You watched as he undid the buckle followed by the button of his slacks and then slowly slid his zipper down. Slipping his thumbs into the waistband of his boxer briefs, he pushed the fabric down just enough to reveal the entirety of him. He was even bigger than you remembered – although that might be because the last time you’d seen it, he’d been fully flaccid. Now, you watched as the smooth skin slowly tightened as he grew in length. He grasped himself in one of his large hands and stroked himself a few times, smirking confidently at your slack expression.

“Well—” he motioned down to his fisted cock “—get on your knees sweetie. It’s not going to suck itself.”

The words should have angered you. They should have sparked a small flame of defiance that said, ‘suck it yourself, you asshole’. He was being presumptuous, cocky, demeaning.

And yet…

You dropped to your knees, wasting no time as you wrapped your lips around the thick head. He was thick, unimaginably so, but that didn’t deter you. Relaxing your jaw, you let your tongue run along the underside of the tip. He tasted heady, raw, masculine. The musk of his skin and salt of his precum coated your tongue as you took him deeper. Forming a seal around what length you could manage, you sucked languidly, bringing a hand up to grip the sizable rest of him.

Steve moaned, a hand coming down to lightly rest of the top of your head as you bobbed on his cock, “That’s it. What a little cock slut. You like that? You like worshipping this dick? You can barely get halfway down but look at you try. It’s so adorable.”

You shuddered, his words causing a visceral reaction in your body. You could feel it, the wetness building between your legs. Sinking deeper onto his length, relaxing your throat and allowing just the tip to pass the threshold, you slid a hand down your body and up your skirt. Not even making it to the inside of your panties, you felt the proof of your arousal dripping down the inside of your thighs. You moaned, trailing your fingertips over the slick and up to meet your soaked center.

Fingers threaded into the hair on the back of your head and yanked harshly. You cried out, reaching up to grip Steve’s forearm as he pulled you roughly off his cock and back up to your feet.

“Look at you,” he said, running a thumb over your spit soaked lips, the saliva dribbling down your chin as you breathed heavily. “So pretty.” He pressed his thumb past your lips, letting it rest against the flat of your tongue as he gripped your jaw tightly in his hand. Slowly, he slid the digit further and further back before removing it and replacing it with two of his fingers. When he reached the back of your throat and met no resistance he kept going, a look of pride on his face. He was impressed. He fucked your throat with his fingers, your hair still gripped painfully in his other hand. When he was satisfied, he pulled his wet fingers from your mouth and brought them down below your skirt, shoving past your panties and using the moisture to rub your already sopping cunt. You whimpered at his touch.

His eyes never left yours, his unwavering gaze challenging you to say something. To say anything resembling a no. It was like a test. A test to see how far he could push you. How far you’d let him push the boundaries of what was and was not acceptable. So, this was what the great Captain America was into. You could tell he liked to see you like this, pliable like putty in his hands. His to shape and mold. You could see it in the way he almost vibrated with satisfaction when you gave in. When you let him use you like an object. In that moment, you never felt more like an object. Steve made you feel like you were nothing but a body to play with and use for his pleasure. The way he looked at you. Like he wanted to possess you. No. Like he already owned you. Your mind told you to run. It told you that everything he was doing was wrong. But your body, your body had never felt so alive. If Steve Rogers wanted to treat you like an object, then call you a fucking lamp.

Sighing in satisfaction, Steve gripped your hair tighter and began to walk, dragging you towards your small loveseat. Tripping over yourself, you attempted to keep up with his long, fast strides. He pulled you roughly onto the cushions, positioning you onto your back with your head hanging off the side. Your skin prickled with anticipation as he flipped your skirt up, yanking the thin material of your panties down your legs. Next was your shirt – body raising off the couch long enough for him to pull the material over your head. The cups of your bra were pulled roughly down, revealing the soft flesh of your breasts, nipples peaked. He gave the sensitive tips a gentle squeeze; your body arched into his touch.

“So sensitive. I like that,” Steve hummed, moving to stand above your head. Gripping his shaft, he pressed the tip to the seam of your lips, “Open.”

You did as you were told, opening wide to allow his length to slowly slide into your mouth. Conscientious of your teeth, you took him as deep as you could. When his cock met the barrier of your throat, Steve’s hand came down to stroke the delicate skin of your neck. He ran the tips of his fingers along the length, his touch feather light.

“Relax. Breathe through your nose.” His voice was firm and commanding. Tilting your head further back, you relaxed your tongue and throat, allowing him to slide further and further until his pubic bone met your chin. At the realization that you had managed to take all of him down your throat, your pussy clenched, and clit throbbed. Breathing heavily through your nose, you waited as Steve kept himself still inside your mouth.

“Now—" Steve began, breath coming in rough pants, “—I’m going to fuck this tight little throat of yours. How does that sound?”

You moaned around his length, making him growl at the vibrations.

“Oh, I think you like that. Why don’t you touch that little pussy? Play with your little clit while I fuck your throat with my cock.”

You touched yourself, the sweet pull of his erection only adding to your arousal as he began to thrust in and out of you. He was gentle at first, taking his time. But very quickly his pace became erratic and so did your fingers at your center. Dipping your hand down, you fingered yourself, feeling the building sensation of an orgasm on the brink already. A second hand at your core caught you off guard. Steve was leaning over you, his own hand pushing your fingers out of the way and diving into your depths. His fingers were longer and wider than your own, reaching places previously untouched.  

“Fuck! You are absolutely dripping. Does this turn you on? My fat cock using your little throat? If I’d known you were such a little slut for big cock, I would have shown it to you a long time ago.” He continued to finger you, your own hand at your clit, hips bucking uncontrollably as you chased your completion. You were growing lightheaded, unable to breathe through your nose as well, as he used you for his pleasure.

“You’re close. I can feel it. Come on my fingers. Come on my fingers while I come down this tight little fuck hole,” demanded Steve, fingers picking up pace. His other hand wrapped around your throat, feeling his own cock moving through the thin layer of flesh. He squeezed ever so lightly, the pressure making him moan. Your vision began to turn black, head drifting ever higher as the coil in your womb grew tighter and tighter until it was too much. Your body convulsed under him, crying weakly around his length as your orgasm took over. The last thing making it into the conscious forefront of your mind, the sound of Steve’s own release and the warm sensation of his cum splashing down your throat.

When you came back to reality, you found yourself wrapped up in the warm arms of a certain super soldier. Seated on his lap, he rocked you gently, a large hand stroking your back, your hair, your face. Blinking up at him, he smiled down at you. All traces of the hard, patronizing, possessive man were gone. Replaced with the soft, kind eyes of the Steve Rogers you and the rest of the world knew.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, voice soft, as he stroked your cheek.

Your own ‘hi’ came out cracked and hoarse, evidence of the rough session that had just occurred. Steve looked down at you, his face a mixture of adoration and regret.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, “I’m so sorry (Y/N). I didn’t mean to lose control like that, I just—you just—” The words escaped him. He looked away exasperatedly.

You reached a hand up, cupping his face and making him look back down at you, “Hey, I’m okay. I’m a big girl. You didn’t break me.”

You gave him a small smile, grateful when he returned it.

“Are you sure? I mean, you passed out,” Steve said, giving you a look akin to a kicked puppy.

Who was this man, that he could go from dominant and possessive to sweet and child-like so quickly? Shaking your head, you laughed lightly, lifting up to place a soft kiss to his lips. He kissed you back, his lips soft and firm against your own. He held you close, arms strong and protective around you. Pulling away, you looked up into the blue azure of his eyes, “I’m sure. Besides, you know me – always stuck in my head.”

Marvel Taglist:

@caffiend-queen

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part of the wyliwf verse.

the sideshire files | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: food mentions, complicated parental relationships, teenage emancipation, emotional abuse, mentions of being disowned, mentions of transphobia and homophobia, classism, mentions of past underage drinking, crying, religious content (church, going to confession), remus cameo, mentions of choking/killing someone, something similar to the canon “have you thought about killing your brother?” monologue, please let me know if i’ve missed anything!

pairings: gen 

words: 57,686

"patton,” meredith says warmly, “and logan, too! come in, come in, let’s get you both out of the cold.”

“hi,” patton says, and shuffles into the diner. “um—sorry i’m late, but, you know. babies.”

“oh, they’ll need something right at the moment that’s most inconvenient, won’t they?” meredith says. “and no worries, the time’s really more a suggestion anyway—most of the rest of the kids aren’t here, but let me introduce you to my son, wyatt—”

mark, who’s sitting at the counter, looks like the man at the counter copy-pasted, except mark’s aged about twenty more years and is a bit softer around the belly. wyatt sets aside his fork and turns to more fully face him—the only difference, other than age, are the perfectly circular glasses that wyatt’s wearing, making his brown eyes overly large, like he’s looking through two magnifying glasses.

“hi,” patton says. “i’m patton, this is logan.”

“hello, patton,” he says, and, equally seriously, “hello, logan. may i hold him?”

“oh! sure,” patton says and passes him over. 

wyatt holds logan a little far away from his body, surveying him. logan surveys him back. wyatt tilts his head for a moment.

“he’ll suffice,” wyatt says decisively, hands logan back, and turns back to his breakfast.

“um,” patton says, juggling logan in his arms so that he’s comfortable. “thanks, i think?”

“you’re quite welcome,” wyatt says. he continues to eat his eggs.

“hey, patton,” virgil says. “merry christmas eve.”

“merry christmas eve,” patton says.

“can i get you anything?”

patton chews at his lip, and says, “hot cocoa/coffee?”

“you know the whole spiel, i’ll spare you,” virgil says.

“it’s a christmas miracle,” patton says.

“yeah, yeah,” virgil mutters, and pours him a mug.

“thanks,” patton says, accepting it. “is there a plan for the day?”

“cook a lot,” virgil says vaguely, “which we’ll eat throughout the day. um, christmas cookies, at some point.”

“oh, sugar, before i forget, you should bring in the movies from the car, so we can start the marathon,” meredith says. 

“after breakfast?” wyatt says.

meredith pauses, sighs, and says, “all right, after breakfast.”

mark says, “patton, would you like some pancakes? i’m thinking of making some and only meredith’s taken me up on it.”

“oh, i’ll eat anything,” patton says quickly. “pancakes sound great, thank you.”

“but, yeah,” virgil says and shrugs. “christmases are pretty relaxed, around here. we tend to work for half the day in the diner, but since the vast majority of my family are no longer child laborers—”

“hey,” meredith says, jokingly indignant.

“—it’s probably mostly going to be me, down here, but who knows,” virgil says. “maybe nostalgia will work in my favor, and i’ll get some unpaid laborers, and i will be shot when the revolution comes, rightfully destroyed under the hammer and sickle. anyway, we close after lunch so we can do a big dinner, we open one present of our choosing before bed. not much else goes on, for christmas eve.”

patton thinks of his past christmas eves, crammed with making appearances at holiday parties and going to church and sitting through teas and brunches and cocktail parties with business partners of his father’s, women in the same societies as his mother. 

you know what? he can take a lazy day and good food and christmas movies. that isn’t strenuous at all. he shouldn’t miss the rush of small talk that felt more like an invasive interview than anything—he’d hated it then, why is he missing it now?

“it’s the first christmas eve without a house here, though,” meredith says, cutting in, “so i’m afraid you’ll have to suffer through our various experiments on how to make all of us fit into virgil’s apartment with some degree of comfort.”

“oh, hey, speaking of comfort,” virgil says, and digs out the baby carrier, which meredith picks up before patton can even try to adjust logan to reach for it himself. 

“thanks,” patton says, and carefully settles logan into the carrier. logan babbles his thanks, and patton digs around for the new pacifier he’s just gotten him, one of logan’s admittedly few christmas gifts—logan’s old one met a bit of a dismal end in the inn’s garbage disposal—and pops it into logan’s mouth. 

for the first time since coming to sideshire, patton’s facing two days off work, and responsibilities, other than logan. it’s probably a good thing that he’s got built-in plans, because if he didn’t, he’d be sleeping for two straight days, only waking up for logan’s crying and maybe food, like, a hastily made peanut-butter-and-jelly or just whatever bag of junk food’s cheapest and closest. 

and now, he’s got a freshly-made stack of pancakes (from scratch, no less) and people to fawn over his baby and, apparently, christmas movies to watch. 

oh, huh. he hadn’t even thought about it just now—when was the last time he’d watched tv? when was the last time he’d lounged on the couch, and snacked on food, and watched tv? certainly not since logan was born. probably not even before that—patton had spent a lot of time in his room, during his pregnancy. it felt like whenever he ventured out to sit in the living room all he got were disappointed looks and irritated snaps.

months, patton decides. it had been months. maybe even a year.

so, with that strange feeling sitting heavy on his chest, he digs into his pancakes with maybe a bit more aggressive fervor than he usually does.

“thank you, mr. danes, this is delicious,” patton says, by rote, after he eats one bite. he’s still going to be polite, even if he feels funny about thinking about what he’s lost—even little things, like tv. 

losing bigger things, like his parents, potentially for forever, make him feel things a lot worse than funny.

but he’s not going to think about that today or tomorrow, he tells himself firmly. after christmas, he’ll have six days between christmas and the new year. he’ll think about it and make a decision then, even if the thought roils his stomach and makes the pancakes a little more difficult to swallow down than usual.

“mark, please,” mark says, looking pleased with himself.

“good luck with that,” virgil says dryly. “i think the only reason i’m not mr. danes is because you didn’t find out my last name until a couple weeks after we met.”

“it’s polite.”

“it’s not a sin to call people by their first names,” virgil counters.

“it’s a sign of respect to call people by their title,” patton counters. “you know, for my elders.”

“ elders!” virgil squawks indignantly. “i’m not an elder, i’m twenty-three!”

“and i’m sixteen! therefore, you’re an elder.”

virgil mutters something along the lines of when you’re twenty-three i’m reminding you of this conversation, which is an absolutely mind-boggling concept. twenty-three. that had never sounded like a year patton would make it to. even seventeen seems practically insurmountable.

patton manages to say something along the lines of “yeah and when i’m twenty-three, you’ll still be my elder,” even while he’s thinking about it. twenty-three. logan would be… six, seven . walking, talking, reading, writing. in school. he’d know what foods he’d like and hate and have favorite subjects and least favorite subjects and if he preferred math to english or science to history and he’d have friends and maybe even a crush.  

logan growing up— that’s what’s insurmountable. not this tiny little baby who, currently, seems to be estimating how far he can throw his pacifier and if papa will go and get it for him, pulling it up out of nowhere. patton would know if logan’s eyes, now that shade of brown that matches his, will have stuck around, if logan will favor him or christopher or both or maybe even neither. if he’ll be tall or short, athletic or academic. if he’ll grow up with or without grandparents.

logan can stay a baby for quite a while longer.

patton is saved from this particular line of thinking when freddie arrives and immediately pounces onto wyatt’s back with a holler of delight, which wyatt tolerates with what patton’s starting to think is his typical placidity. 

freddie then proceeds to pepper him with questions, hiking up the leg of her jeans to proudly display a massive bruise on her knee that her parents exclaim over. 

“can you check it?” she asks, but wyatt’s already patiently taking her knee between both hands, adjusting his glasses.

“does it hurt very badly when i do this?” wyatt says, pressing his fingers to it lightly.

“no.”

“how about now?”

“other than it just being more pressure? no.”

wyatt looks at her over his glasses, unamused. “you’re just doing this to see if, in my medical opinion, this might possibly be the biggest bruise i’ve ever seen, aren’t you.”

freddie grins at him beatifically.

“a choreographer wanted to do a number where i never touch the ground and they just hurl me in the air the whole time, from person to person,” freddie says. “i’ve got tons.”

wyatt sighs. “i anticipate more demonstrations forthwith.”

“no showing off battle wounds in my diner!” virgil shouts from the kitchen.

freddie pouts.

“my apartment,” virgil says, emerging, “is right there. do your weird world-record-seeking stuff away from the food.”

“world record?” patton asks.

“it’s freddie’s not-so-secret ambition to do a world record, of some kind,” virgil says. “i’m not even sure if she cares what it is.”

“preferably something with acrobatics, but i’m flexible—“

“no physical puns!”

“you never let me have fun!” freddie sulks, but she is lowering her arms from where she’d been about to interlock them behind her back, to do something incredibly weird with her body because her bones seem like they’re made of rubber, patton’s guessing.

“do you need ice?” mark asks freddie, frowning at her in concern and passing a hand over her hair. “you’ve been icing and bandaging everything properly, right?”

“...yep,” freddie says.

“winifred,” wyatt says, handily polishing off his eggs, “i will offer you an escape from parental smothering by means of asking if you would like to help me carry in christmas movies from my car.”

“oh, thank god,” freddie says.

“my name is wyatt,” he says. patton isn’t fully sure if he’s kidding.

“i know, big guy,” freddie says fondly, and meredith rolls her eyes even as her children both make their getaways.

“what on earth are we going to do with that girl,” she comments to mark.

“she’s run away to the circus, dear,” mark says, “i don’t think there’s much else for us to do.”

a pause.

“i’m going to send her back with a care package of ice packs and ace bandages, though,” mark decides. “just to be safe. it never hurts to have them.”

meredith smiles and rubs his arm. “that’s a good plan.”

parenting, patton thinks. just to be safe seems like a pretty integral part of parenting, planning too. it’s good advice, even if they didn’t mean for it to be advice. the danes’ seem like a good example to follow.

logan bops at his pacifier hard enough that it falls out of his mouth and onto the counter, with a delighted babble at the demonstration of gravity.

he guesses he’s got a while to go before he has to worry about all that, though.

  patton has never seen the diner so crowded.

he and annabelle have managed to lay claim to one of the tiny tables in the corner—well, “lay claim,” they were there before any of these people—and patton watches. 

they were going to watch a movie, but after all the siblings got there meredith ended up helping out a waitress who looked ready to tip over under the weight of all the plates she’d been carrying, and then one thing led to another, and now patton and annabelle were watching the danes family at work, like none of them had ever left.

meredith and freddie are a rapid-fire chatty team at the counter, with frequent gales of laughter from their customers.

essie and wyatt flit around the diner, taking orders and making well-timed quips (essie) or observations (wyatt.) wyatt doesn’t even need a pen—he just remembers everyone’s orders, down to the condiments.

silas, who is apparently much stronger than he looks, is toting the weight of two fully-loaded trays at any given time for the elder two siblings.

virgil and mark occasionally emerge from the kitchen, but patton can hear sizzling and knives chopping and the smell speaks for itself—spices and sugar and so much good food that patton’s considering—

“brunch?” annabelle asks.

“oh, thank god,” patton says, “it smells so good in here, i was getting hungry again.”

“do you wanna each get something and split it?” annabelle says. “just so we have some options.”

“that sounds great,” patton says. “um, is there any food you don’t want to get? like, allergies, personal preferences, that kind of thing? that seems like the easiest place to start.”

he and annabelle slowly whittle down the menu—it turns out annabelle’s very open to just about every food option—and annabelle waves enthusiastically to essie, who perks up and prances over to their table.

“hey,” she says brightly.

“hey,” annabelle says, smiling, and accepts the kiss that essie presses to her cheek. 

“you guys doing okay?” essie asks, sticking her pen into the knot of brown hair piled on top of her head. “i kind of got sucked back in, sorry.”

“i’ve got patton to keep me company, we’re okay,” annabelle says, smiling.

“oh, right, good,” essie says. “patton, this exact thing happened last year and i felt so bad, annabelle was just sitting alone in a corner for half the day, but—“

“hey, it’s cool,” annabelle says. “i had a book to read.”

essie frowns. “still—”

“you’re spending time with your family,” annabelle says. “go fetch us some french toast and waffles and caffeine, and i’ll consider forgiving you.”

she’s clearly joking, and essie smiles, relieved.

“love you,” essie says.

“i love you too, babe,” annabelle says, and essie’s smile widens before she practically floats back to the counter to turn in their order.

“how long have you two been together?” patton asks annabelle.

“oh, years,” annabelle says. “seven or eight, give or take.”

“wow,” patton says softly.

“yeah,” annabelle says, and a goofy kind of grin spreads across her face. “she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, i can handle a morning watching her have fun with her family, y’know? it makes her happy. plus, i’d be useless doing anything with... that.”

“me, too,” patton says.

“and, i mean, now you’re here,” annabelle says. “so i’ve got someone to chat with, which is good, because i forgot to pack a book this year.”

patton laughs, mostly to be polite, and says, “i guess that is good, yeah. um, so, how did you and essie meet?”

“college,” annabelle says. “we were roommates, and then, well. one thing led to another. best random assignment i could have gotten.”

“that’s really awesome,” patton says sincerely, and that sets annabelle off on a “I Love My Fiancée” tangent which patton is really happy to listen to. essie is, according to annabelle, the sweetest, most thoughtful, caring, wonderful person that she’s ever met, and she’s so excited to spend the rest of her life with her, and she can only hope that she will stack up so that she’ll be able to deserve her, and when essie is approaching to drop off their food, she’s blushing, so she must have overheard, and annabelle grins.

“you really don’t need to be so shy,” annabelle quips, and essie blushes a little more.

“well, you don’t have to be so loudly happy about it,” essie mumbles.

“of course i’m going to be happy about you, why wouldn’t i be happy about you?” annabelle counters. “you’re going to be my wife.”

essie beams at the very idea, and, with another kiss on the cheek, she floats back toward the counter, where freddie clearly begins teasing her, complete with heart-clutching and dramatic fake swooning.

“so,” annabelle says, after patton takes a forkful of french toast, “what’s your story? virgil hasn’t really told any of us much.”

patton slows his chewing as much as he can, trying to formulate an answer. well, see, i got pregnant and ran away from home and now i’m torn between breaking my parents’ hearts or mine, depending on the choice i make?

“well,” patton begins cautiously. “i’m, um, it’s—well, i, um. it’s.”

“complicated?” annabelle asks. “i mean, it’s—y’know. me too.”

patton blinks. 

“i’m from texas,” annabelle elaborates. “small-town texas. um. you can probably fill in the stereotypes from there. i fully cut off contact with my parents about four years ago.”

“oh,” patton says, and it’s like the word is punched out of him. “i—i’m really sorry.”

annabelle shrugs. “it is what it is,” she says. “anyway. the danes’ have been great. i’ve been coming to holidays with them since i graduated college and, you know. came out to my parents.”

patton chews his lip, and admits, “mine’s not quite the same situation, but—but close.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

he isn’t sure if he should say more—he has a vague feeling he should probably elaborate, but the idea of having a breakdown in the diner again is. not his idea of a fun christmas eve morning.

“that’s rough, dude,” annabelle says. “um, esther’s the emotionally capable one, so, sorry, but. you want some waffles?”

patton snorts.

“yeah,” he says. “okay, sure. i’ll have some waffles.”

⁂

"okay, so, you wanna pick, lo?” patton says to logan, holding up the cookie cutters in front of logan, but far enough away that he won’t grab at it. “stars or angels.”

logan considers his options. then, making a cooing noise, he very clearly reaches for the shiny silver star cookie-cutter.

“good choice!” patton cheers, and leans in to kiss logan on the forehead. “stars it is. it’s a shame you don’t have teeth to eat these with.”

he puts his finger in logan’s hand, so he has something to grab at, and sets the cookie cutter out of sight. logan then proceeds to drag patton’s finger toward his mouth, just to chew at it. as patton expected.

“oh, that’s a good idea,” meredith says, and then holds up a christmas tree and a reindeer cookie cutter in logan’s line of sight. with his free hand that isn’t currently holding patton’s finger to his mouth, he reaches for the tree.

and so begins a parade of people consulting the baby on cookie shape choices. granted, sometimes logan doesn’t always make a choice—at silas, logan makes a disdainful noise and starts chewing on patton’s finger with even more fervor, seeming to glower at him—but he does reach for quite a few choices, with no pattern that patton can decipher. 

at one point, he gets a bit frustrated that he can’t hold any of the things that are being held in front of him, so virgil digs up two blunt, plastic cookie cutters, which means patton is free to wash his hands as logan starts mouthing at a snowflake-shaped cookie cutter, the mitten-shaped one cast aside. 

now that the lunch rush is done, the diner’s officially closed for christmas eve and christmas, which means that it’s time for the danes’ to start making christmas cookies. they’re like a well-oiled machine—there’s tons of home-made sugar cookie and gingerbread dough, with essie and freddie making frosting together, freddie occasionally flicking dyed frosting toward her siblings, and essie would only sometimes catch her wrist with a kind of scolding laugh.

virgil, with a streak of purple across his cheek and a clump in his hair, helps patton and annabelle figure out how to best utilize the dough they have, so that they’ll have maximum cookie and minimum scraps. 

all the while, christmas music plays, filling up any noise that isn’t taken over by conversations amongst the danes’. and there are conversations. listen, patton’s used to a lot of conversations echoing around a room, but he’s used to people in his parents’ world with their quiet, politely pitched voices, so that their gossip and snide commentary wouldn’t carry to their targets.

the danes’ have no such concerns.

their loud, booming laughs and indignant squawks and clamorous chatter and roaring responses and impassioned, ranting interruptions could maybe be heard from outside, let alone within the same room. it’s cacophonous, rowdy chaos.

any unwritten, strict rules of conversation that patton’s been preached to have been cheerfully thrown out the window. he can jump from conversation to conversation as he pleases, and no one seems to mind that he does because everyone’s doing the same thing. he can join mark and meredith’s debate over what constitutes a good christmas cookie, then chime in on his opinion on a book that he, annabelle, and wyatt have all read, and back up virgil when freddie pokes fun at him.

even virgil and silas, whose argument patton remembers vividly, are bumping elbows, and silas tousles virgil’s hair as he traps him under his arm, but it’s less like a dangerous, harmful thing and more like sibling squabbling, especially considering freddie joins right in by leaping on silas and yelling “YOUNGEST SIBLINGS ALLIANCE!” and essie trying to yank her off while proclaiming about the twinly treaty, while wyatt watches calmly from the sidelines and mark and meredith break them up with the weary, well-meaning tones of parents who have done this a million times before.

patton’s never seen anything so different; he’s an only child, from such a different world, and chris, his closest friend, is an only child, too. siblings are so strange. there are no manners. there aren’t any lingering hurt feelings. it’s almost like family time out of a movie, except it’s so much more chaotic and messy.

patton loves it.

as the cookies bake, the entire family works together to start decorating the tree, placed proudly in the center of the diner. none of the matchy-matchy, expensive, fancy ornaments that patton was never allowed to touch. cardboard boxes full of past childhood ornaments made during school, which erupt into various stories and reminiscing about the sideshire schoolteachers, cheesy souvenir ornaments from the various travels of every danes, including some new ones that mean lots of questions about what they’d been doing there, a popcorn-and-cranberry garland that essie, annabelle, and silas are still making even as wyatt drapes it round and round the tree. 

somehow, the whole gaudy thing works; glinting with glittery ornaments and two strands of lights, it’s visible from the outside, when patton obligingly steps out to check and see. he helps everyone stack their presents under the tree—it turns out, the danes' have some color-coding going for their gifts. gold wrapping paper means they're presents for mrs. danes, silver for mr. danes, green for wyatt, red for essie, pink for annabelle, black for silas, yellow for freddie, purple for virgil. so patton ends up kind of organizing the presents so it's like a color wheel around the tree; everyone's presents, all together so they can just go to their color instead of hunt every present ringing the tree.

even as disorganized as they seem, it’s clear that the danes’ are a well-oiled machine, because by the time everyone decrees the tree satisfactory the cookies are cooled enough to decorate.

“i’ve never actually decorated cookies like this before,” patton says, as virgil passes him a piping bag full of icing—they’re splitting up all the icing into tiny bowls and piping bags, so everyone’s got their own little icing station. everyone's already wearing an old meredith's branded apron, from before virgil took over the diner.

“what, with a piping bag?” virgil asks. "it's pretty easy, once you get the hang of it, you can practice on some of that wax paper if you want—"

"no, i mean," patton says, "we usually order christmas cookies to send to people. like, caterers or bakeries usually take care of it. i've never actually gotten to make my own christmas cookies."

there is dead silence around the prepping station in the diner's kitchen. then:

" what," freddie breathes out, disbelievingly. "never? never ever?!"

"never ever," patton agrees. "i mean, maybe when i was really tiny, but—"

"you've never even made a ginger you?" essie says, incredulous. "or—a gingerbread house? not even one of the ones that come in kits?"

patton briefly imagines his mom's reaction if he brought in some cheap, pre-made gingerbread house to assemble. to make a mess, in her kitchen? even if she never actually used the kitchen, it’s still hers, and—

patton shakes his head, and there's an explosion of questions— have you never decorated a cookie EVER, do you even eat gingerbread, do you bake stuff usually—?

"well, i've baked stuff before, but," patton says, and swats at virgil when he snorts.

"you burned 'em, didn't you?"

patton huffs, but doesn't deny it. because, well. he did. it's really probably for the best that the professionals were in charge of these christmas cookies, because he definitely would have messed them up somehow.

"what do you eat on christmas?" silas demands.

"um," patton says, scratching at his temple, "whatever catering that people have got, on christmas eve, and my parents usually have a party on christmas that has these amazing apple tarts, i swear they're the best part of christmas—"

"well, at least there's some kind of traditional dessert," meredith says.

"not all families are so food-centric, dear," mark says.

"well, i know, but." meredith says. " still. no christmas cookies, ever?"

"well, that does it, then," freddie says decisively. "you get first pick."

there's a rush of agreement from everyone—well, silas is silent, but he doesn't disagree—and patton tilts his head quizzically.

"get a dozen of these, whichever ones you want," virgil says, gesturing to the huge amount of cookies on the cooling rack. 

"surely you're going to make a gingerbread self," wyatt says, and there's a burst of recommendations of what cookies he should get, pointing to the best specimens of each cookie shape, and patton just kind of ends up going for a little bit of everything—stars, trees, a reindeer, an angel, an ornament, a snowman, a bell, and yes, a gingerbread man—and stares, bemused, at the tools virgil sets in front of him.

"um," patton says, and virgil laughs—not in a mean way, but still enough to make patton flush a little. 

"okay," he says. "so, when you hold a piping bag, there are a couple grips you can go with, and it mostly depends on the kind of decoration you're doing... "

and so begins patton's lessons in frosting christmas cookies. 

mark shows him how to best ensure that there aren't any air bubbles in the icing.

meredith tells him about how to mix together icing on wax paper to get the exact color he wants, like he's a painter or something.

wyatt, with his steady surgeon's hands, shows him how to ice beautiful, delicate-looking flowers.

essie shows him how to best press down sprinkles without getting stray bits stuck where he doesn't want them.

annabelle, laughingly, demonstrates the best way to push his hair out of his eyes without accidentally smearing pastel blue frosting across his forehead.

freddie demonstrates how to throw cookies like ninja-style throwing stars, but that's less a decoration lesson and more of a way to directly target someone who teases her about her messy cookies.

even silas shows him how to use a toothpick to get even, straight lines.

and virgil helps him fix his mistakes, and helps him move things when his hands are too sticky to move anything without getting it messy too, and even helps break down a cookie so he can make a little gingerbread baby, for logan.

and even if patton's icing jobs look messy in comparison to mark's practiced work, or wyatt's even, steady lines, they fit right in with freddie's colorful, smudged ones, and annabelle's, which she mostly requests essie's help with.

"it's really more about the fun of the thing," meredith says, when she sees him looking between wyatt's and his own. "did you have fun?"

patton grins and nods, and she gives him a thumbs up.

"well then," she says decisively. "i mean, they're all going to have the same thing happen to them. and even if they're messy, i promise you they'll taste just as good. go on."

so patton picks up a star, the first one he'd iced—with shaky little blue swirls and silver glitter—and crunches into it.

it's just crisp enough on the outside and soft on the inside, with sugary, yummy icing, and, well. even if patton's icing might be a bit ugly, he can't deny that meredith's right.

so he picks up a blank star, and he starts icing again.

⁂

“logan,” patton says, around a mouthful of gingersnap cookie, “it seriously is a shame that you don’t have teeth to eat these.”

logan, who’s fixated on the television—virgil guesses all the colors and sounds must be super interesting, to a baby—doesn’t seem to care very much.

"these are the best christmas cookies i’ve ever had, ever,” patton says sincerely. “thank you.”

“you’ve said that a million times,” meredith says, amused. “you’re welcome.”

she passes him another as she speaks. honestly, virgil would kind of start interceding, but his mom has the same “must feed” gene that he does, except she doesn’t pay as much attention to things like nutritional value. he doesn’t blame her; patton’s wearing an old sweater that’s been handed down to him, and it's big enough that it makes him look pretty scrawny.

some danes’ (silas, mark, and wyatt) are in the kitchen, making an endless parade of appetizers and snacky-type things that are fighting for space on virgil's coffee table, shoved to the side of the room, whereas others (meredith, freddie, essie, and annabelle) are parked in virgil’s living room with him and patton to watch the collection of christmas movies wyatt had lugged in from his car.

currently, ralphie is fantasizing about going blind from soap poisoning as freddie mouths dramatically along with his parents’ wailing, she and virgil parked beside each other on the ground. freddie doesn’t move too much, though, because she’d loudly complained at essie until she’d started playing with her hair. so essie had obliged, one hand poking out from the blanket she's tangled under with annabelle, brushing her fingers absently through freddie’s hair.

his mom’s in an armchair, which leaves patton lying down on the loveseat so that logan can get some tummy time, heads turned so that they can watch tv. patton keeps absently running his hand up and down logan’s back—well, admittedly, there isn’t much to run his hand up and down, he’s a baby, and a somewhat small baby for his age, at that—and virgil can see logan’s eyes, reflecting the light of the tv.

virgil notices out of the corner of his eyes that he’s seeing less and less of patton’s eyes. they go half-lidded, then closing before occasionally opening, and then—

“patton,” he says softly, just as an experiment, and patton doesn’t so much as stir. it does, however, draw his mother’s attention.

“oh, poor thing’s all tuckered out, isn’t he?” his mom comments, in a suitable undertone.

“yeah, he’s been pretty strung-out lately,” virgil murmurs, and, hesitantly, gets to his feet, hunting for a blanket he’s got stashed somewhere. and then a little odd dance ensues; he puts the blanket over patton without covering logan up too much, and then, carefully, ever so carefully, he lifts logan from patton’s chest and secures him in his arms.

“i didn’t want him to fall,” he explains to his mom, as he tugs the blanket the rest of the way up, to cover patton.

“probably a smart choice,” his mom says. “i could take him, if—“

“no, that’s okay,” virgil says, looking down at logan as he adjusts his hold; logan seems to cuddle closer, and virgil stares as logan lets out a squeaky, strange little yawn. 

“you’re sleepy too, huh?” he asks, and logan’s tongue pokes out, just a little, just enough that something in virgil’s heart feels like it’s swelling from the sheer adorableness of it. 

so virgil settles on the ground in front of the loveseat, and keeps his hold on logan, watching as his eyes slide shut, too.

“strung out?” his mom asks, and virgil would shrug, if he wasn’t holding a baby that’s slowly falling asleep.

“logan’s got colic,” virgil explains in an undertone, “which we’ll probably hear, soon enough, and he’s been working a lot.” a beat, and then, “i think he’s having trouble sleeping too.”

honestly, virgil’s pretty relieved that he’s fallen asleep; the bags under his eyes have been growing deeper and deeper, and his requests for caffeine have started to slide from jokingly desperate to actually desperate.

his mother tsks and murmurs “poor thing” and virgil can practically see her plotting before his very eyes. you know what? not the worst thing in the world. patton could afford some motherly spoiling during his first christmas away from his family. 

hadn’t that kind of been the intention when he’d asked patton and logan to join the family christmas, anyway?

and so his mother plots, and logan snoozes, and essie and annabelle snuggle, and freddie acts along, and patton sleeps.

and keeps sleeping.

the fact that danes’ and colicky logan keep quiet for as long as they do is a miracle. they ensue in furiously silent rock-paper-scissors matches to see whose movie of choice is played next, and when they do speak, it’s in whispers. and logan—honestly, virgil’s not sure if he’s ever been so quiet for such a long stretch of time in his whole life. he’s quiet during the grinch that stole christmas, and love actually, and it happened on fifth avenue, and he fusses a little during the santa clause, but it’s easily enough fixed. well. with his dad’s help.

but patton’s nap is starting to move into full day’s sleep by the time his dad is loading in home alone, and logan lets out a piteous wail, and patton starts awake, hand going to where logan was lying on his chest, and virgil quickly turns so that patton can see logan in his arms.

“oh, hey,” patton mumbles, reaches for logan, and gets to his feet. “hey, hey, hey, you feeling okay?”

“we changed him, earlier,” virgil says, and then patton seems to notice that the sun has set, and he startles again.

“i,” he says, and shakes himself. “sorry, virgil, i can’t remember where your bathroom is—?”

virgil points, and patton goes. 

“after this one, i think it’ll be dinnertime,” his dad says thoughtfully.

“finally, i’m starving,” silas says. “did we have to delay it for so long?”

“don’t be mean, silas,” essie chides gently. “we’ve waited while you took naps.”

“yeah, when we were four,” silas says.

“silas matthew,” their father scolds wearily, and silas scowls, fixating his stare on the tv screen, effectively ignoring the rest of them. but he doesn’t shift away when essie nudges him, then puts a hand on his arm, as if to keep him on her left side, annabelle to her right.

well, essie’s always been able to get through to silas when none of them ever have. virgil guesses it’s the twin thing.

if silas stops being an asshole for one day, it’ll be a christmas miracle.

⁂

patton feels... fuzzy.

that’s the best way he knows how to put it, or, at least, it’s the best way he can come up with right now. he isn’t sure how long he’d slept—it had to have been hours—but such a huge amount of sleep at an unexpected time has patton feeling slow, and dazed, and stupid, but that that last bit isn’t too unusual.

the danes’ have kindly—what else is new, they’ve been nothing but kind—been politely quiet about how long it takes patton to catch up to their conversations, or understand their jokes, or tune in to their requests to pass coasters or if he wants a bite of the appetizers they’re snacking on as they wind down home alone.

patton’s claimed the floor. they’d tried to get him to stay on the loveseat, when he came back from feeding logan, but he’d refused. he’d monopolized it all day, and really, if he fell asleep again then patton would be kissing goodbye to any ragged semblance of a sleep schedule that he still had.

so patton’s on the floor, and mr. and mrs. danes have taken over the loveseat, with virgil beside him on the ground and annabelle in the armchair and wyatt examining freddie’s ankle flexibility, or something, on the couch, freddie peppering him with questions all the while.

essie and silas... huh. patton actually has no idea where essie and silas have got off to. last patton knew, essie had gone back to help silas make some adult-only drinks (”absolutely none for either of you!” meredith had said, clearly not aware of patton’s history with drinking adult drinks since he was about thirteen) about... well, half an hour ago, maybe, and they haven’t been back since.

it’s been easy to be distracted, though, because he’s pretty sure that mrs. danes’ favorite drink is apparently spiked eggnog, and she’s certainly had enough to show it, a pretty pink blush high in her pale cheeks. she’s leaning over, again, cooing softly at logan, who babbles gleefully and reaches for her understated, dully glinting jewelry.

“little hands,” she coos, poking him in the midst of his chubby little palms, and logan babbles, smiling, as she squishes her hands gently between her fingers. 

“little feets! itty bitty baby feets!”

logan squeals as she squishes his feet much in the same way, kicking, and patton doesn’t even realize he’s beaming wide until meredith reaches over to gently squish his cheek between her fingers, too, in a move that’s so thoughtlessly, habitually maternal, so casual in its kindness and affection, it strikes patton dumb.

affection’s been hard to come by, for a lot of his life. affection gives without expectation or later price to pay has been even rarer, maybe even nonexistent. even after his time in sideshire, where it seems to overflow, it overwhelms him.

“and,” she says, turning her attention back to the baby, “a... little... noooose!”

logan proceeds making delightful baby noises, and even tries for a few claps of his hands, the way patton’s been showing him, and patton leans in to gently clap above him again, just to show him.

“yay, logan!” he cheers quietly. “yay! can you say yay?”

he knows it’s too early to except logan to talk, but really, yay isn’t that complicated of a word. it’s just one syllable, and really, logan’s babbling in semi-recognizable syllables now anyway.  

“how about a laugh?” patton prods. “you’re so close, can i get a laugh?”

logan’s gotten so close to laughing, and he’s on track to laugh, even if it’d be early it’s not unheard of early, so maybe this’ll do it. he’d love it if he heard his son’s first laugh tonight.

he’s such a smart baby, patton thinks, swelling with pride. really, logan might just be the smartest baby that’s ever lived. he’s pretty sure that every parent thinks that, but really, patton’s pretty sure that he’s the right one here.

patton, so overcome by paternal happiness, sweeps logan up into his arms and waltzes his way to his feet, spinning, as he presses noisy kisses into logan’s cheeks, mwahmwahmwahmwahmwah! as logan shrieks and squeals and patton spins, so full of love for him, and—

and in the midst of his spin, he looks at just the right time, he glimpses a clear shot to virgil’s balcony.

well, it’s really too teeny to be a full balcony, like his balcony back at his parents’ house, so it’s really only enough space for two-ish people and a near-indestructible potted fern. it’s more of a mezzanine, or whatever the mini-version of a balcony is called.

and there are two people clustered together. silas, his arms wrapped around his stomach, and even in the low light and the distance patton can see that his face is achingly vulnerable, as he bows his head, and essie, equally obviously, empathetic, reaches out her hands to put on his shoulders, and patton just barely sees a snatch of essie pulling her brother into a hug, holding him tight, and that’s it, that’s all patton sees before he continues twirling with his son.

he doesn’t look again. it’s what he’d want, if he was silas. besides, that seems like a pretty private family thing.

⁂

patton’s sure he’s never had such a well-fed, delicious christmas eve in his life, and he hasn’t even eaten dinner yet .

everything looks absolutely mouthwatering—it’s the traditional kind of christmas day meal that he usually has at his parents’, turkey and mashed potatoes and rolls and that kind of thing, except the danes version has clear deviations: green bean casserole, which he’s never had, he doesn’t think, sweet potato casserole with brown sugar and pecans on top, fresh cranberry sauce instead of canned, homemade gravy instead of store-bought, corn made off the cob instead of canned. 

they’d dragged together some tables in the diner rather than attempt to engineer virgil’s tiny table to get nine people (plus a baby) to fit, so they're all seated beside the christmas tree. he’s got his back to the doorway leading to virgil’s apartment, so he’d be able to steal away and tend to logan faster without disturbing anyone, if logan needed it, and he probably would. he’d been so quiet when patton had napped, he’s sure that his schedule’s gotten pretty messed up, too. logan is parked in the carrier, on a booth table, clearly visible to everyone at the table.

well, really, it's mostly for patton's benefit, he's pretty sure, because once he looks away from his son to start paying attention to the conversations around him, he looks back right in time to see meredith looking at him knowingly.  

patton smiles, sheepishly, and she nods, as if to say i get it. well, she's had five kids. she probably gets it more than he does. actually, she definitely gets it more than he does. patton's absolutely clueless.

but before either of them can say anything, mark gently taps a spoon against his plastic cup—it doesn't provide as clear a ting-ting-ting as the crystal-cut glasses his parents would use—and everyone quiets down.

mark lifts his cup.

"another year gone," he says. "it's been wonderful to see you all in town again. now that we're all getting older, it hits me each and every year how precious this time is. of course, i'm proud of you— all of you—are going out there and making your own life, but i can't help but think about how bittersweet it is that family time is getting fewer and far between."

"aw, dad," freddie mumbles.

" but, " mark continues. "again. i am very proud. of all of you."

he meets eyes with everyone at the table, and, after he's inclined his head ever so slightly at patton, patton stares down at his empty plate.

not you, he scolds himself. of course he's not proud of you, he's barely known you for six days and honestly, what have you done to make anyone proud of you?

it doesn't stop the rebellious little flare of warmth that he feels, though.

"the past few days have been wonderful. i have cherished this time together. i love being your dad—" annabelle looks choked up—"whether you're with me or if you're out making your own life. so," he says, and lifts a glass. "i'll keep the sappy stuff short, as we have this fantastic meal laid out before us. so. merry christmas and a happy new year, everyone."

"merry christmas," everyone rumbles, lifting their glass, and patton belatedly does so too. mark lifts up the platter of cut turkey, and meredith helps herself, before doing the same for him, and the passing of food begins.

patton's plate just about overflows.

"you know you can get seconds," virgil says to him an undertone, amused, and patton flushes as he attempts to stack his rolls back from where they've toppled off his plate.

"everything looks so good," he says defensively. 

"again," virgil says, who really has no room to talk, his food's about to spill over the edges of his plate too, "seconds."

patton decides to do the mature thing: he sticks out his tongue at virgil, shoves one of his rolls into his mouth practically whole, and then tries not to choke on his overlarge mouthful.

virgil stifles his laughter into his glass of wine.

patton's right to have so much on his plate, because everything is amazing. patton's world full of fiddly food, more about the aesthetic and the finery than the actual taste, would have never dreamed of having food like this, but honestly, everyone might have been a bit more cheerful if they'd stooped to eating food that was prepared in a diner. 

if he'd had these warm, fluffy dinner rolls. if he'd had the fragrant, fruity, frankly yummy fresh cranberry sauce he gets to smear over his rolls. if he'd had these buttery, yummy mashed potatoes with a pool of gravy that he can soak up with his bread. if he'd had the opportunity to try green bean casserole with the crumbly little french onion bits on top. if he'd had sweet potato casserole, which patton goes back for seconds before he's even finished his first serving. if he'd had this moist, good turkey, rather than the tradition of his father having first carve and then it being ferried away for the servants to do the actual carving.

if he'd had people who, even as they gently teased him about taking more food, loaded more on his plate when he was looking away, if he'd had people who were earnest about wanting to know what he'd thought, if he'd had people who were as welcoming of him being the way he is, if he'd had people who were less critical and more accepting, then maybe he would...

patton firmly redirects his thoughts. i'm deciding after christmas. after christmas. pay attention to what's happening now. 

and, in what patton's starting to think is typical of danes style, there's a lot to pay attention to; granted, there aren't a ton of conversations happening because of the spectacular, delicious food, but there are still a couple peppering the table that jump freely from topic to topic. there's also a lot of wordless gestures for certain foods (the rolls make quite a few rotations around the table) and salt and pepper and so on, and every once in a while someone will get up to refill their drink and will be met with a flurry of requests, but for the most part, it's... quiet. easy.

warm, patton thinks. it's warm. not just temperature-wise—it is nice and toasty in the diner—but it's warm in the sense of how the danes' interact with each other. there are a lot of smiles and compliments on the food and conversation, and... and at this point on a typical holiday, patton's shoulders would be tensed up, waiting for some kind of comment, except he's never made it this far into the holiday without that kind of comment and stop stop stop.

there is one thing, without fail, that makes patton feel better. so patton gets to his feet and shuffles over to check on logan, who looks close to falling asleep, pacifier solidly in his mouth, and patton reaches out to run a thumb gently down his cheek.

"you okay?" he asks him softly, and logan blinks at him slowly once, twice, and patton feels the corner of his lip quirk up.

"yeah, you're okay," he says, in the same soft tone, relieved. and you will be okay, i promise. no matter what happens, i'll make sure you're okay.

"is he good?" comes from behind him, making patton jump. he turns back to virgil, who's looking at him quizzically, still seated at the table.

"yeah, he's good," patton says, and smiles wryly at him. "i mean, no telling how long it'll last, but—"

"yeah, he's good," virgil says, and cocks his head. "he looks ready to fall asleep, doesn't he?"

"yeah," patton says, and takes a breath. he'd been right, seeing logan does make him feel better. "i should probably leave him to it."

"he'll need you, soon enough," virgil says, so patton goes and sits back down at his spot at the table.

it has calmed him down—it's like just taking a second with logan has provided the same effect of a whole, calming day at his parents', not just a few seconds.

so patton throws himself back into the conversation, and keeps glancing over at logan, who even offers him a wave or a noise every once in a while, and it feels... right. it just feels right .

[gingerpeachtae]

Concentric [1]

masterlist

Words: 5.2k

Genres: fantasy!AU, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, eventual smut (?)

Warnings: strangulation

Summary: You had been ready for the end of the semester. You had been ready to spend time away from your best friend, Jimin, and finally move on from the feelings you harbored. Yet, after your friend was forced to reveal a secret, you found yourself in a new world that was chock full of magic, war, and wonder. So, here you were, basically thrown into your own fantasy novel, with your best friend on one side, and six male warriors on the other.

A/N: OOF. I told ya’ll it would be up ASAP! Again, pls leave any love, advice, suggestions, etc! I hope you engoy :)

“Look, I’m just saying that there’s no way Frodo would have ever reached Mordor without Sam.” You waved your arms in frustration. “Hell, Shrek wouldn’t have gotten Fiona, both away from the castle and as a wife, if it weren’t for Donkey.”

You kicked at a stray pebble on the edge of the path. “Sidekicks are just so underappreciated.”

You were currently in a passionate rant, which often tended to be about some pretty random things Today’s lucky subject was the mistreatment of sidekicks, but it could have easily been the folklore of the Chupacabra or deciding which movie adaption was more cringeworthy: Percy Jackson or Twilight. Your best friend sighed as you both made your way through the campus arboretum.

“Only you would be so wound up about something like this Y/N.” He grinned.

It was a cool, crisp April morning. The sun was just beginning to emerge, creating an ethereal light across the horizon. Droplets of dew clung to the grass next to the worn-in sidewalk, and the trees were plump with their newly grown leaves that painted pockets of shade against the ground. You smiled to yourself as you admired the beauty. You hated waking up early but watching the world slowly come to life as you walked to class almost made it worth it. Key word: almost.

“Oh, but my dear Jimin.” You moved the smile to his direction, nudging his shoulder playfully. “Just wait until you’re the sidekick. Then you won’t be as eager to mock them.”

Your friend just shook his head at you and chuckled, the action rumbling throughout his compact, bulky frame. He grabbed your arm and tugged you onward toward the business building.

“Come on. We’re going to be late if you keep yapping about random shit all morning.”

Your heart began going crazy, beating at a rapid pace like it was a goddamn EDM song. You mentally scolded yourself and told it to sit down and shut up. Fuck. You hated yourself for it. Jimin’s been your best friend since you were 10 years old. Ever since punching his sweet face after he tried to scare you with a spider he found lurking around during recess. You knocked him on his ass, and when he didn’t run to the teacher to tattle, you helped him fabricate the poorly detailed story of how he slipped on the wet metal of the playground and banged his face. You and Jimin have been inseparable from that day forward. And you’ve been in love with him since you were 17. Unfortunately, you know the feeling isn’t mutual. This wasn’t some friends to lovers fanfic misunderstanding either. This was reality and sometimes reality just sucks like that. You’ve watched him flirt, kiss, and date his fair share of girls throughout your time together, and not one has he ever looked at you with any romantic inkling. Why would he? There he goes with his muscular and flexible as hell body. Seriously, the only thing this boy does more than eat and nap is put in time at the studio. Paired with dark hair that prefers to be dyed a vibrant orange, plump limps that beg to be kissed, a strong nose, a cutting jaw line, and oh my god his eyes. Dark brown with flecks of amber light. Like an animated tiger’s eye gemstone. Don’t even get yourself started on the way they squish close when he smiles or laughs hard. God, you swear nobody else has eyes even clo-

SMACK.

You ran straight into the glass door.

“Shit!” You rubbed your forehead painfully. “What the hell Jimin!? Why didn’t you hold the damn door open?”

All you got in response was a choking sound as the boy tried to reply but couldn’t because of the laughter shaking his body. It caused his eyes to do the damn squishy thing. You quickly looked away so that you wouldn’t stare in blatant awe.

“Damn and you call me clumsy. It’s not my fault you weren’t paying attention,” he finally wheezed out as he doubled over from the laughter.

Asshole.

Geez that hurt. You thought while massaging your poor head.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m fine thanks for asking.” You rolled your eyes and started walking once more after safely passing through the doorway.

Four flights of stairs later and the two of you arrived outside of your 8 AM lecture. Ah yes, nothing quite like accounting at 8 in the freaking morning.

“Seriously, who invented 8 AM classes? Because I would really like to have a word with him for this terrible contribution to society,” you huff, “and I say him because there’s no way a woman would do this to society. Actually, I want to have a word with whoever talked me into taking a goddamn 8 AM!”

“Y/N…” Jimin hesitated. “That would be me.”

Of course.

“Also, why the actual fuck are we taking an accounting course?” you continued to whine. “We’re dance majors!”

After completing the awkward, squeezing, tip-toed walk through the classroom aisles to two seats next to each other, you collapsed into your respective chair.

“Because you and I are both minoring in entrepreneurship and it’s a required course.”

Raising an eyebrow at his smartass response you proceeded to poke his bicep.

“Well you and I are going to have a little chat later about your negative influences.”

“Oh, please Might Y/N, spare me from your wrath!”

You snorted in response, earning a stare from the chap sitting to your left. You retaliated with a glare, warning the bugger not to fuck with you this early.

“Whatever. But you definitely owe me some ice cream Slim Jim.”

Jimin winked before turning his attention back to the front of the class. Feeling your cheeks grow warm, you placed your face in your hands to hide the betraying blush. You inwardly groaned, reminding yourself that the semester was almost done. Just four more weeks and you can spend some time away from Jimin. Just four more weeks until he went on his annual trip to stay with some distant relative in the middle of nowhere with no reception. Maybe this year you could finally let go of your hopeless, unrequited love while he was gone.

Ugh. Ew. The thought made you roll your eyes at yourself. You were such a fucking sap.

“Ohhhhhhh my gosh.” You moaned as you licked the creamy deliciousness that trailed down the square indentations of the waffle cone.

After enduring the early class from hell, you and Jimin had separated ways for the rest of your classes for the day. Luckily, you didn’t have to withstand mindless lectures about debits and credits after 9:15.

“You are officially forgiven for making me take an 8 AM,” you informed Jimin. Although forgiven, you still side-eyed the cup which held his strawberry ice cream before continuing. “Except not getting a cone is a violation of ice cream law so…”

“Oh, come on! There is no such thing as ice cream law!” He threw his non-cup arm wide in defiance.

“There sure as fucking hell is! Thou shall never turn down ice cream and thou shall always choose a waffle cone. It’s first grade Slim Jim.”

“First I am disgusted you managed to throw in a SpongeBob reference. How do you always do that!? Second, I must simply agree to disagree. The cones get stale and leaky at the bottom. Plus, you get y/f/f ice cream, which is yucky, so I refuse to acknowledge your law.”

“Take that back! That’s like saying brownie edge pieces are better than the center pieces!”

“…But they are.”

All you could do was slowly turn and gape at your best friend in horror. It was quickly replaced with a scowl when he flicked your forehead.

Grumbling through your scowl, “Hey, so I need to hit the studio for a bit after this, but we’re still on for family dinner tonight right? I’m thinking of making that pulled pork mac and cheese you love.”

Jimin stiffened beside you and slowly let out a sigh, running a hand through his orange hair.

“Y/N, please don’t be mad, but I completely forgot about dinner and something else came up…” He awkwardly toyed with his ice cream.

“Seriously?” You weren’t mad. Just… disappointed. It was one of the last free nights you each had before finals and showcases started up. “You better not be cancelling on me for some girl you found at the bars last night.”

You murmured the last part in a low voice. Not like it wouldn’t have been the first time, though. He was constantly going out with girls he met, even if it sometimes meant leaving you behind. Not that you were salty about it. Or jealous. Nope. Not at all. But, you were his best friend, so it’s not like you could complain about it to him.

“No! No, it’s not a girl. I promise,” Jimin quickly retorted. “I just completely spaced on this project I have for K201. I have to meet up with my group to finish it, and tonight was the only night that worked with everyone.”

Well, at least it was a school excuse and not some bimbo. You thought as you popped the last bite of cone into your mouth.

Sweat dripped down your forehead and into your eyes. It left a pleasant satisfactory sting as your equally sweaty forearm rose to wipe it away. Dancing was hard, it was strenuous, but you relished in it. You loved feeling the music gliding across your body, inviting and encouraging your movement. The burn of your muscles. The stretch of your limbs. The bass in your chest. It was utterly euphoric. You had been in the studio for two hours already, but being the perfectionist you were, you kept telling yourself “one more time.” The first had been six times ago. After wiping away more sweat that fell down your face, you reached over to restart the song just. One. More. Time. Taking a deep breath, you walked back to your starting place as the ticks counted down to the start of the track.

Inhale. Exhale. Go.

After running through the routine three more times, you felt satisfied enough with the day’s progress. Breathing heavily and dripping sweat, you could not wait to take an unnecessarily long and hot shower. Yes, you were aware that cold water was much better for your body, especially after exercise, but cold water was evil. Even during the summer months, you couldn’t resist standing under scalding water for a good 30 minutes. At least you would rinse off with cold water for like 20 seconds at the end. That had to count for something, right?

But you didn’t feel like going home just yet. You didn’t want to open the fridge and see the ingredients you were originally going to cook up before Jimin threw a curve ball into the evening’s plans. As you thought of the places you could go instead of your single bedroom apartment, you realized that you hadn’t been to the state park just outside of the town in a few weeks. With Spring in full swing, it had to be breathtaking at the moment. Since you were already sweaty and gross, you figured being so for a little longer wouldn’t kill you as you grabbed your keys and turned off the studio light before walking out the door.

Twenty-seven minutes and a flash of your annual park pass later, you pulled into the first open spot you saw, which happened to be next to an ugly matte black Jeep Wrangler.

Geez, who paints their car matte and thinks it looks good? You ponder before whipping your eyes back to the vehicle.

Wait. Ugly matte black Jeep Wrangler?

You hope out of your car and slowly walk around to the Jeep. Positioning yourself beside the driver’s window, you peered through the tinted windows. There better not be a damn dreamcatcher…

...

“Slim Jim! I got you a present!” You excitedly hand over a small bag with unicorns adorning the side.

Jimin eagerly grabbed the gift, delighted with your choice of bag décor.

“I hope it’s a-”

“Dreamcatcher!” You interrupt singing as he removed the item from its magical paper prison.

“Um. Thanks Y/N, but you know I don’t really need this. I don’t get nightmares anymore,” he says as he lifts the delicate object higher to take a better look.

You punched him in the shoulder as he frowned at the white dreamcatcher in his hand.

“I wanted to get you something to hang from your rearview mirror that wasn’t so damn doom and gloom,” you explained as you gestured to his all black interior, “and it matches the one in my car! So, think of it as sort of a best friend necklace type thing.”

...

You hadn’t been sure if he would hang it up, but the next time you hoisted your y/h self into that black Jeep, it was proudly strung up above the dashboard. Where it still was as you currently looked through the window.

“Why the hell is Jimin here?”

You didn’t think he ever came here without you, because you basically had to drag him when you did. The guy loved the outdoors and every other park, but he had some weird aversion to this park in particular. Wouldn’t say why, though. You eventually just stopped asking when you were never given a straight answer. But, oh boy, were you going to be asking again today. With a groan of frustration and annoyance, you entered the hiking trail. Just wait until you find that boy, you were going to strangle him with your sweaty little hands.

You’d been walking for about thirty-five minutes before you found him. He wasn’t on the main trail, but on a side path that led to a small clearing. Not many people knew about it, but after you had stumbled upon it, you made sure to show it to Jimin the next you had dragged his ass out here.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“-Shit.” The man of the hour cut off in the middle of whatever he had been saying to himself when he heard you.

“What the hell Jimin!? You cancel on me, have the audacity to lie about why, and then I find you out here doing… doing what exactly?”

Marching across the clearing, you stopped a few yards away from him. You crossed your arms and cocked an eyebrow, just daring him to try and make up a crappy excuse. At least he had the decency to look scared shitless at your approach.

His eyes began darting all over the clearing. His hand nervously raked through his hair, but he stayed silent.

You’d had enough. “Are you really just going to stand there and not say anything?”

“Y/N. Please. Please just go home,” he begged, his eyes still darting. “It’s not safe.”

“It’s not safe? I’m pretty sure tick season is over Jimin,” you scoffed. “Are you buying drugs or something? What’s going on with you?”

“I can’t explain. Just please go home,” Jimin continued to plead, “I don’t want you-”

His sentence was interrupted when a force suddenly seized your neck and thrust your body backwards, pinning it against a tree. The odd thing was that nothing had touched you.

“What the hell is this?” You managed to spit out to your friend, who was looking at you with wide, panicked eyes. Then the force around your neck

Began.

To.

Squeeze.

Out of the corner of your vision, you could see that Jimin was trying to reach you, but it seemed an unseen force held him at bay too. He kept shouting some gibberish that you couldn’t understand. Probably because you were currently getting, you know, choked to death.

Shit. Shit. Shit. It hit you that you were actually getting bloody choked, and not in the good way.

You tried gasping for breath, but the air was not reaching your lungs. Your head started spinning and darkness began to rim your vision, slowly invading more and more of your eyesight. Desperately, you attempted to rip away the force blocking your air. But when you brought your hands up to your throat, you registered a warm, solid substance. It felt like skin. Thoroughly freaked and near passing out, you continued trying to claw the force away, but it completely encompassed your throat and wasn’t budging. Oh my god. You were going to die because of a ghost. Hello? Welcome to death registration, what’s your cause of perishing? Casper the fucking Ghost.

Wait. Were those fingers? Your vision was almost entirely black by now. You could still faintly hear Jimin shouting over the thumping of your heart. If those were fingers, then there must be a hand, arm, and body, right? You released your grip on the supposed hand around your throat and instead reached out to find what it was attached to.

Fabric. More skin. Muscles. A man? You hope. Either way this should hurt like a bitch.

You were losing control over your body, but you weren’t done for yet. You were too much of a stubborn bitch for that. Kicking out with your leg, you located one of Casper’s appendages and sloppily found the other with another kick. Then, with what little energy you had left, you forced your right leg up as hard and high as you could manage. The sudden rush of air back into your lungs made you even more dizzy as whatever held you vanished. Collapsing to your knees, you coughed while trying to support yourself by gripping the tree trunk behind you. Suddenly, Jimin was kneeling beside you, repeatedly saying your name. You don’t know how he escaped his ghost, maybe a spiritual kick to the tender region too.

Caressing your hair, he murmured, “Hey, hey, it’s going to be okay.”

“I don’t feel okay,” was all you could mutter before your arms gave out and the world fell to black nothingness.

Slowly, ever so slowly, you cracked open your eyes and saw Jimin’s worried face looking down at you. Your body felt like it was lagging behind your head, like when you kept moving the joystick forward during a video game, but the character decided to go sideways instead.

“You’re okay Y/N,” he reassured you, “you just passed out briefly.

Oh.

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, grunting as dirt and twigs scraped against them as you did so. It still seemed to be only the two of you within the clearing, but you knew something, someone was there. You could feel it. You know, beyond the whole thrown against a tree and strangled thing.

Gripping his arm, you looked your best friend dead in the eye. “Okay, you’re going to help me up, and then you’re going to explain to me what the hell just happened.”

After doing so, and hesitantly stepping away from you, he attempted to act nonchalant.

“You tripped on a tree root and hit your head.” He shrugged.

You stared at him because there was no way. That had to be bullshit. You decided to straight up say as much. A few seconds went by and neither of you said anything. Jimin suddenly cocked his head to the left and nodded. His hand reached out in the direction his apricot-colored head had tilted toward, and then something peculiar happened. A tiny, delicate flower petal appeared in his hand. It hadn’t floated in on the breeze or fallen from the trees above. The pink petal had just… appeared. Cupping the object in his hand, he walked directly in front of you and extended the hand that held the petal. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, not understanding what revelation that petal was supposed to bring.

“Uhhh?”

Understanding your puzzlement, he explained that you apparently needed to place the petal on your tongue. You still had no reason as to why you needed to do that, but you still took the object gently out of his hand. Giving him a quizzical and skeptical glance, you proceeded to place the delicate pink petal inside your mouth. Expecting to have to gag on it as you swallowed, you were shocked when it simply dissolved on your tongue like powdered sugar. As soon as the last remnant disappeared you gasped as your vision went black. Stars erupted behind your eyes and the sounds of every living thing amplified to clarity. For a split-second, all you could see was that blinding galaxy. All you could hear was the stars twinkling and the rumbling of an endless, black expanse. You were fully alive, and you felt the world drifting by your fingertips. But the stars began to dim and dim and dim until your vision cleared. You blinked to regain yourself and stilled when you finally registered the clearing again. When you registered what was in the clearing.

You and Jimin were no longer alone.

Six strangers stood within the clearing.

Six of the most gorgeous men you had ever seen. Beautiful, regal, and intimidating as hell. They each wore a variation of what seemed to be a mix of armor and camouflage as they easily blended in with the spring colors. You sharply inhaled as you noticed that their ears extended into long, delicate points. They looked like some kind of modern Legolas. If Legolas decided to cut his hair, dye it random colors, and give you an immediate lady boner.

Damn. You seriously needed to get laid.

You stared at them before tightly closing your bugging eyes, counting to ten, and re-opening them. Nope, still there. They gazed back, waiting to see what you would do.

“You-I-I’m tripping. I’m high and I’m tripping. Whatever you gave me is some new drug, right? Which first off, screw you because that’s pretty fucked up,” you stammered out to Jimin, “Or you hired these cosplayers to appear right after I ate that thing. Mhmm. Yup. That’s it. Good prank.”

You looked at your friend, desperate for reassurance that this was just a hallucination, or some weird joke. He only shot you a sad expression before shaking his head. In a stressed gesture, he drew a hand down his face then through his orange locks.

Eyes bugging out yet again, you returned your gaze to the strangers. You noticed that one of them had moved to go lay down against the base of a tree, his arm tucked underneath his mint-colored hair. Was the situation too boring for the lad? You couldn’t exactly agree with him. About half of the others had small smiles tugging at the corner of their mouths, yet they were not all relaxed. Some were too still, too stiff to possibly be relaxed. A couple took a more forward approach and had their hands resting upon their weapons, ready to draw.

Hold the door. Weapons!?

Double taking, you saw that, yes, your eyes were correct. They were all armed. Swords, daggers, bows, one of them even had a mace. But no guns. At least that you could see. One of them had his hand tapping the ruby hilt of the dagger strapped against his side. You could see two more blades crossed behind his back. His face was more steeled than the others. He did not look in the least bit pleased.

Another with striking pale-yellow eyes said something to Jimin, in a language you couldn’t understand, gesturing to you as he spoke. Even though you had no idea what language it was, you put two and two together and realized it was the “gibberish” Jimin had been speaking earlier. The yellow-eyed man seemed to be the tallest out of the group, and although he did not appear to be pissed at the current situation, it was clear that he did not find it ideal. Whatever your friend replied with had the ruby-hilt man glaring even harder. Much to your surprise, however, was that a man to his left broke out into a huge, boxy grin.

Talk about having absolutely no clue on what was going on.

Finally getting over your initial, paralyzing shock, you found your attitude starting to make an appearance. Done with being out of the loop, you glared back at the one who seemed to have an issue with you. His hand stopped tapping the ruby gemstone and instead gripped the handle hard, his entire body locking up from the pressure. You swore he glared even heavier too, if it were possible. You internally rolled your eyes. What a chump.

Jimin took a deep breath and gently released it before turning to face you.

“Y/N/, I know how this is going to sound, but please just- Just listen.”

You looked your best friend in the eye and nodded.

“I’m not human, not entirely,” he explained, running a hand through his hair again. A habit he did constantly, but this time your eyes locked on his ears.

Jimin had never had what a person would consider a normal, rounded ear. His were slightly pointed. Not to the extent of the six strangers surrounding you, but a gentle tip that went beyond that of a typical ear. You’d never given it much thought but would occasionally tease that he was a magical creature. As you looked at them now, you could see that even though they were not as extreme, they carried the same shape and elegance as the ears of the others in the clearing.

Seeing the wheels turning behind your eyes, he motioned to the others. “I’m half Saeni. I spend my summers in their realm.”

“Uhhh-”

You were cut off by the man, no male you rethink since you were just told that they were not humans, that had spoken with Jimin earlier. He seemed to be getting impatient, his yellow eyes narrowing at you. Jimin rapidly fired back, gesturing to you over and over. God, you were getting tired of them talking about you like you weren’t there.

“Hey! Stop talking about me and not telling me what you’re saying. It’s super freaking annoying. And rude,” you declared as you crossed your arms with a huff.

Jimin whipped his head back to you in disbelief before he began chuckling. It was just such a you thing to do to already be over his big reveal and be demanding to be included in the conversation.

“Okay, okay.” He put his hands out in front of him as a peace offering. “So, they need my help, and um, need me to leave with them tomorrow.”

Um, excuse me. What?

He couldn’t just leave tomorrow. Damn looking forward to him going to his Aunt’s for the summer. He couldn’t just leave to go to this realm place out of nowhere.

“What about school? What about your Aunt’s for the summer… oh. Shit. There is no Aunt is there?”

Jimin only gave you a small, tight smile, his eyes filled with regret. Well, alrighty that answers that then. You took one deep breath, quickly deciding in your head before continuing. You still did not fully understand what was going on or what a Sinai? Saeni? Or whatever Jimin had said was, but you did know one thing for sure.

“I’m going with you,” you announced defiantly.

His eyes widened. “What!? No. No, you’re not. It’s not safe.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“You could get killed,” he strained.

You simply shrugged. “To die will be an awfully great adventure. Plus, finals are going to kill me anyway so…” You mumbled the second sentence under your breath.

“Y/N/, this is serious. I mean it. You could really get hurt.”

A male appeared behind Jimin, the one with the boxy smile, and clapped him on the shoulder. You had been so caught up in the argument that you hadn’t even noticed him, and the others, moving. With him being up close, you could finally get a better look at his appearance. And damn, were you quite happy at that. He had grey, almost silver, hair that flopped against his forehead regardless of the thick headband that attempted to push it back. The band did lift the steel-colored locks enough to fully see his dark, prominent eyebrows and clear, sharp blue eyes. Hot damn. He was fucking beautiful. You also noted that he had a small mole on the tip of his nose, numerous silver hoop earrings, and a single, dangling feather earring that matched the arrows holstered on his back. While you were preoccupied admiring the specimen before you, the attractive male looked you up and down before smiling again and squeezing Jimin’s shoulder.

“For Exia’s sake, Chim. Just let her come. It’s not like you’re going to win an argument with a female like her.”

That snapped you out of your daze. A female like you? Slowly, you moved your gaze to Jimin then back to the male, ready to oh-so-kindly inquire as to what type of female you were. Just as you went to start yet another argument, you finally registered what he said. Or rather, you registered the fact that you had been able to understand him.

Your mouth dropped. “You know English?” You stupidly asked as if it hadn’t just been established that yes, he did know English.

“I do, but only sometimes.” He winked.

Ooo-kay. Like that answer made any sense.

He paused, tilting his head to the side before adding in a genuinely concerned tone, “Hey, you might want to close your mouth before you inhale bugs.”

You blinked your eyes twice in astonishment.

What the-,” you sputtered, “this is between Jimin and me, and…” you trailed off, again putting a hold on your outburst to look at your best friend.

“He called you Chim.”

He gave you another sad smile. “Park Jimin is my real name, don’t worry, but I had to go by another name over there for… reasons.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the glaring male turn his head to the side while snorting sarcastically. As you turned your head to him out of confusion for his reaction, you also saw Jimin give him a warning look before adding to his statement.

“Let’s just say that Chim is easier to go by.”

“Mmmm seems fake but okay,” you retorted, returning your attention back to your friend with a sigh.

With each minute that passed, it seemed like you knew your best friend less and less. How many secrets did he have? How could you even call yourselves “best friends” when he had seemingly lied to you since day one? You sighed once more, trying to wrap your head around it all. Although the entire situation was straight out of a goddamn fantasy book, you still trusted the person in front of you. Because this was Jimin. Your Jimin. Your Slim Jim. Even if he had avoided some things, he was still the boy that tried to scare you with a spider, he was still the person who has seen you at your worst, the person that was always there for you through breakups, injuries, and weak moments. He was still your best friend. And you wouldn’t abandon him.

You looked at him with determination. “I am going with you. Just tell me when you need me back here and what you need me to bring.”

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