#wow this is managing to be so much worse than i anticipated. holy fuck

[grasshopperjay]

wanting was enough (18+)

pairing: jay halstead x female reader

song: august - taylor swift

word count: 4.1k

summary: jay and the reader are old friends who meet at a bar. neither of them are in a good place, but their night gets a lot better with the others company. however, there’s something important that jay forgot to mention. 

warnings: swearing, angst (of course), yelling, smut, unprotected sex

“Am I dreaming? God I sure hope not.” 

 You’re already rolling your eyes at the horrible pick up line, taking a swig of your drink to get the confidence to shut this guy down, and then you see him, and you nearly choke. 

“Holy shit.” You stutter out. “Jay Halstead.”

“Holy shit,” He repeats, “Y/N. I can’t believe it’s you.”

He opens his arms and you shake your head, laughing in disbelief as you hug him. “How are you?” You ask, and he grins, occupying the seat beside you and you look him over for a minute, trying not to stare. He’s bigger, muscles filling out his previously boney stature. A lot has changed since high school and you can only hope he’s looking at you the same way, liking the developments you’ve made since you were seventeen. 

“I’m good! Yeah, great. How are you? You look amazing.” 

“Thank you,” You murmur, trying not to blush. “So do you.” You avoid the topic of yourself altogether, opting to not mention how little you’ve actually accomplished since high school. Sure you have a degree and a good job, but you seem to be lacking the happiness so many of your classmates have achieved. “What have you been up to? Last I heard you married Abby,” You blurt out, and he laughs, shaking his head in disapproval. 

Is it bad that the wedding ring that was not on his left ring finger was one of the first things you noticed? 

“Yeah, it was uh-, it was a military thing. Nothing more.” He confirms, and you nod suspiciously. 

“So you’re not with Abby then?” 

“No,” He laughs, “Definitely not. I mean she’s a great girl and everything, but, not for me.”

“Wow, I wish you would have realized that in high school.” You blurt out, and then your hand is covering your mouth, a reflex response to stop anything worse from coming out.

Jay raises his eyebrows, chuckling at your stunned face. “What does that mean?” You shake your head but he prods further. “Nope, you don’t get to do that, what do you mean by that?”

You’re giggling like a little girl and suddenly you’re seventeen again. This is how it always was, Jay charming as ever and you completely mesmerized. One crucial part of the picture is missing this time though, and you’re hoping it works for the better for you. 

“I just mean... I did a lot of pining senior year.” You murmur, and he narrows his eyes. 

“Elaborate.” It’s a demand. 

“Do I have to?” He nods. “Ugh, I was just always second place to her.”

He wants to respond with humor, but you can see in his eyes for just a split second that he knows exactly what you mean. 

He remembers what happened behind the mall, sitting in his car, so close to getting everything you’d ever wanted until his phone rang. Who else but Abby on the other end of the line. You had spent the whole summer together but no matter how far you’d come you were always just a step behind her. And just when you thought you were getting somewhere, August came. And you were off to school, Jay enrolled in the military. And the rest is history. 

“You were second place?” He clarifies, and you nod. “Well so was I.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, and he nods, tilting his beer to his lips. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Dan,” You haven’t heard that name in years. “I only went along with Abby because you were obviously into Dan.”

“I was not into Dan!” You shriek, and Jay laughs. “I’m kind of offended that you thought I was...” 

“You so were,” He accuses, and you keep giggling, covering your mouth to try and control how hard you’re smiling. “I liked you, like really liked you. But Abby told me you liked Dan, so I never did anything.”

“She lied,” You say, shoulders shaking with hysterics. “I hated Dan.” Jay is laughing now too, and goodness, you’re so happy you decided to stop at this bar. 

When the laughter fades, your eyes lock and for a moment the wind is knocked out of you. 

Even though you’re probably gonna regret it, you decide to take the leap you never were bold enough to take in high school. 

“Jay, I never thought about Dan a minute after high school... You, on the other hand? Everyday.” 

A small smile grows on his face, and then he says, “Yeah I thought about you a lot too.” 

You talk for hours, just catching up, and it’s so familiar. He asks about your job and your degree; laughs with you about your brother and how he’s managed to stay reckless after all this time; pries about your relationships in the last ten years. He tells you about his job now, and you soak in every moment as he talks louder, hands motioning like crazy when he gets to the crazy parts of his stories. You hold his hand while he opens up about things that happened on his tours, you can see the pain in his eyes even though he tries to put up a strong front. 

He’s so different from how he used to be, but still so similar. And even though a decade has passed, you’re still just as smitten with him as you were ten years ago. 

It feels like no time has passed since Jay approached you with his stupid line, but when the lights turn on, you realize what time it is. 2 am. You’ve been talking for five hours. 

“Shit,” You mumble, because you’re not ready to go.

It’s like Jay reads your mind though, because he slides his hand over yours, giving you a small grin when he says, “Do you wanna come back to my place? I’m not quite ready to say goodbye to you yet.” 

The answer is yes. A thousand times yes. But you can’t give in so easy. “Jay Halstead... We’ve only just met and you’re inviting me back to your place?”

He rolls his eyes, pulling your jacket off the back of your chair with a smirk. “I promise I’ll be the perfect gentleman. No risky business.”

And that’s how you end up in his apartment, sitting five feet apart on his bed like you’re still in high school. There’s a movie playing but neither of you are paying attention. 

However, it’s probably your fault that he’s so far away. When he guided you to his room, you, like a teenage virgin, poked a finger at his chest- his extremely broad chest- and said, “I’m not here to have sex with you.” 

You said it because you didn’t want to seem desperate, or easy... But it’s Jay, and you’ve known him since high school. You feel like you’ve waited ages for him. And you’ve changed your mind. 

But how do you tell him that without telling him that...

You turn your head to look at him, and the corners of his mouth tilt up as he realizes you’re watching him. He turns to look at you, extending his arm, “You know you can come over here and cuddle with me, I won’t bite...” 

With a sly grin you crawl over to him, settling in his arms. And damn, pressed against his hard body you’ve really changed your mind. “I wouldn’t be mad if you did... bite...” You say, words falling off towards the end. 

You freeze for a minute, locked in a staring match with him before you’re pushing yourself up to kiss him. He’s not surprised, his free arm wounds around your waist, his tongue slides into your mouth and all you can think is what have you gotten yourself into.

You kiss him harder, trying to get even closer to him but he stays steady, his hands sit comfortably, resting on the outside of your thigh and your waist, thumbs drawing circles through the fabric of your t shirt dress.

He makes no moves to go any further, and your timid nature prevents you from doing so either, but you’re walking a thin line. You want so much more. 

Finally you say fuck it, disconnecting your lips and tilting your chin up. He gets the hint and he scrapes his teeth across the soft skin. You whine, grabbing his t shirt while you mumble his name. 

“Please,” You whisper, trying to pull him closer. You hate that he’s made you so weak. All he’s done is kiss you and you’re nearly falling on your knees. 

“What do you want, baby?” He whispers, pressing delicate kisses to your neck.

“I want you to touch me,” You whisper, cheeks tinging red at your confession. He doesn’t seem to mind though, with a smile he brings your lips back to his. His tongue slides into your mouth, and you hold onto his shoulders a little tighter. Slowly, his hand makes it’s way from the outside of your thigh, to the inside. And then he’s pressuring your knee, pushing your legs apart.

“Jay,” You mumble, and the second his green eyes meet yours, you’re lost. 

“You okay?” He asks, and all you can do is nod. 

“Are you sure about this?” Another nod. 

You’re so beyond wet from just kissing him, it’s almost embarrassing. 

He’s so gentle, hands sliding further and further up until their fiddling with the waist band of your underwear. You raise your hips, thinking he’s going to take them off but he doesn’t, he only applies slight pressure to your mound.

His hands are working so slowly and the anticipation is building and building. His fingers work their way down, humming over your clit and passing until they’re ghosting right over where there is probably a wet spot. You can feel your cheeks start to burn red at the thought of it, and it makes you mad at him for being so annoyingly hot.

He presses more firmly, and even though it’s not quite where you want him to be, it still feels good, so you kiss him harder. He responds eagerly, nibbling on your bottom lip. Then he’s ducking his head into the crook of your neck, teeth and tongue grazing the spot just below above your collarbone.

You can’t help the moan that slips out, and you dig your nails into his shoulder when he chuckles against the skin there. He connects your lips again with a smile, and it’s so smug it’s irritating. You really just want him to do something other than tease you, so one of your hands leaves his shoulder, latching onto his wrist that’s under your skirt. When you push his hand up he laughs against your lips, pulling his hand from your grasp. “Jay, do something,” You grumble, tilting your head back. 

He leans into your neck, dragging his lips over the skin. “I thought you weren’t here to have sex with me.”

You internally roll your eyes, “This isn’t sex,” You reply and he laughs.

“Touche,” He says, and then he’s moving his hand up, yanking down one side of your underwear. You help him out, tugging down the other side, he slides them down your legs, and then slowly slides his hand back up, taking his sweet time. 

When he finally gets to where you want him, your shoulders slump, miles of tension being released with his simple touch. He dips a finger down to feel how wet you are, spreading it around he rubs slow circles on your clit, and you release exasperated little breaths against his lips. Your legs instinctively open wider, and Jay’s touch grazes lower, his middle finger teasing your entrance. It dips in, and you try to sink lower, but his hand on your hip holds your firmly in place. He pulls it out, and then goes in again, this time with two fingers. You buck your hips slightly, the pads of his fingers brush your walls, and your back arches while you ache for more. Getting his fingers in even further his palm presses hard onto the hood of your clit, and then you know you’re not going to last long after that. Your head is tilted back, chest heaving up and down and Jay watches in awe, working his fingers while you move with him. His fingers are continuously pressing against your g spot, and you’re practically grinding onto his palm now. It feels so good, and his lips are so soft against yours. He’s like a drug, and now that you’re almost to the edge you know one high isn’t going to be enough. “Jay-” You pull away from his lips, head tipping back.

“Let go,” He mumbles, pressing a kiss to your neck.

Another rock against his hand sends you over the edge, your eyes squeezing shut, and Jay stretches his hand back, avoiding your clit while you ride out your high on his fingers. Slowly they stop moving and your eyes flutter open when he pulls his hand out from under your dress. He sucks them into his mouth and surprisingly a hot moan slips past your lips at the sight. Fuck you need him. You fall back onto the bed, grabbing his shirt to yank him with you.

“Bab-” He starts to speak but you latch onto his neck pulling his lips down to meet yours. When you wrap your legs around him you feel his hard on press against you and it’s almost enough to make you moan embarrassingly loud again.

Hands sliding down, you tug up the fabric of his shirt and he pauses to get it over his head. He chuckles when your fingers hook into his shorts, “Slow down, babe.”

Ignoring him you push his shorts and boxers down, and he holds himself up with one arm to help you out. His cock is hard and you bite your lip at the sight of it, the tip red an soaked with precum.

When he leans back down, your hands grip onto his waist, legs wrapping around him in preparation. He slides his cock in between your folds and you jerk when he grazes your clit. “You sure, baby?” He asks.

“Jay, if you stop now I might combust,”

He grins, pressing a kiss to your lips before standing on his knees, grabbing hold of your calves he yanks you to the edge of the bed. Then he raises your legs so they rest on his shoulders, and he’s pushing into you so slowly it’s almost painful. You need him so badly, and he knows. You cry out when he sinks fully into you, knotting your hands into his hair. He has his feet on the ground for momentum, using your thighs to push you down and it has him so deep you think you could pass out. Every time he moves its like your whole body is getting shocked with pleasure.

“You feel so good,” His grip on your waist is getting tighter, and you grip onto his shoulders to pull him down to you, desperate to feel his lips on yours. When your mouths connect you feel like your lit on fire. 

You sling an arm around his neck, wanting to keep him as close as possible. He presses short kisses to your lips while he continues to grind into you, he feels amazing and you know you’re climbing up quickly to another climax. His head tilts back, mouth falling open and it’s like a whole other stimulant in itself, seeing the pleasure that you give him. Nothing turns you on more.

“Jay,” You murmur, pressing a kiss to the underside of his chin. He responds by connecting your lips again, kissing you through your second orgasm. It’s long and incredible, and it crashes over you so hard it feels like more than just one, but he continues to fuck you through it, getting himself off. He presses you into the bed, and you admire the way his muscles flex, and the way he clenches his jaw while he’s coming undone.

He is so beautiful.

Finally he collapses on you, catching his breath before he rolls off. You both take a moment to let your thoughts catch up, labored breaths filling the room.   “Wow,” He finally says, and once again, all you can do is nod. 

Breathlessly he stands, grabbing his boxers to tug on before he winks and leaves the room. When he comes back minutes later, he has two glasses of wine in hand and you grin, you picked a good one. 

“Wow, if I wasn’t in love with you before I sure am after that little performance. Now this?” You smile, taking the glass. “You’ve out done yourself.”

“Anything to impress you,” He teases, clinking his glass against yours. 

You lay there for another few hours, tangled in the sheets just talking more. And you’re wondering if it’s possible to fall back in love in less than ten hours. 

Eventually Jay nods off, and when you look at your phone you realize it’s six in the morning. 

You didn’t exactly plan on staying at the bar later than eleven, work at nine usually is enough to prevent you from going home with a guy but apparently Jay doesn’t count. 

You don’t really want to leave but you should probably go home and shower, so you quietly put on your clothes, trying your hardest not to wake Jay up in the process. Before you go, you steal his phone, going to settings to get his number so you can shoot him a quick text goodbye. 

You’re typing as you sneak out of his bedroom, writing out a cute message about how much fun you had when a voice scares you. 

“Looks like you guys aren’t fighting anymore,” 

With your startle you accidentally press send on your unfinished text, muttering a shit as you look up to see who’s talking to you. If you remember correctly, it’s Jay’s brother, his hair still as fiery red as ever. 

When he sees you he freezes. You’re obviously not who he was expecting because he stutters out, “You’re not Erin,” 

And no, you’re not. 

You feel your stomach drop, and you’re praying that the best night of your life isn’t about to get ruined, but by the dire look on his face, it is. “Who’s Erin?” You mumble, and Will’s face falls, like he actually feels bad for you. 

“Jay’s girlfriend.” He whispers.

Your whole body goes still, a cold impulse spreading throughout your body as you realize what you just did. You can’t bring yourself to say anything else, you just run out of the apartment as fast as you can. 

You’re not really thinking, just acting as you walk down the street, clicking fast on your phone to order an uber, anything to keep you from actually digesting what just happened. 

And that’s how the morning continues, you don’t stop for a minute, occupying your thoughts with literally anything other than him. It works for a while, you can keep your mind off him while you shower and get ready for work, but then you’re sat at your desk, staring at your phone that has not stopped ringing since you sat down. 

It’s an unknown number but you know exactly who it is. There’s seven missed calls, numerous texts but you’re not looking at any of them. You’re busy thinking of what happens now.

What if she finds out? What if she finds out and finds you? You’ve maximized jumping to conclusions and gone straight for diving off a cliff into a lake of worst case scenarios. 

There’s more missed calls and texts by the time lunch rolls around, you’ve had concerned comments from just about everyone of your coworkers, but it’s easy to brush off their worry, your own however? Just about impossible.

How is it that you became a home wrecker without even knowing? Was there some sign of her that you missed? Because you feel like you should have known. 

You’re still sitting at your desk, staring blankly at a computer that has yet to be turned on today when your receptionist, Maggie, knocks on your office door. 

She looks like a deer in the headlights, eyes wide as she says, “There’s a client here to see you,”

“I don’t have any appointments today...” It’s Friday, you never schedule client meetings on Fridays. 

“I told him that, but he says it’s urgent.” 

For her sake, because she looks terrified, you roll your eyes and nod. “Okay send him in.”

She steps aside and then your client is sauntering into the room, badge on display for everyone, including poor Maggie to see.

“Is this a fucking joke?” You cry, and Maggie nearly jumps out of her skin. You want to tell her to drag his ass out of here but she’s clearly had enough excitement for one day so you dismiss her with clenched teeth, eyes unwavering from the shithead in front of you.

“Are you kidding me, Jay?” You growl, “Showing up here? I’m working. How the hell did you even find me?”

“I’m a cop, Y/N. I found you in two minutes,” He shuts the door behind Maggie and you can see the intrigued glances from your coworkers. “And besides I wouldn’t have showed up here unannounced if you would just pick up the phone when I called.” He argues, and you scoff. 

“Do you actually think you deserve that? After what you did?” 

“You never let me explain!” 

“What can you possibly have to explain, Jay? You turned me into a homewrecker!”

“I didn’t mean to-,” He starts, but you cut him off. 

“I asked if you were with anyone! You said no!” 

“You asked if I was with Abby.” He counters, “I didn’t lie.”

Your eyes go wide, jaw nearly dropping to the floor. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. That’s your excuse? A technicality?”

He shrugs, and you resist the urge to throw your penholder at him. “Who is Erin, Jay?”

“My girlfriend.” He admits, and you actually reach for your ammunition, but he continues, “Sort of.” 

“She uh, we haven’t been on the best terms lately, we were living together, but I moved in with Will a little while ago to give her some space. She got offered a job with the FBI in New York.”

“But you’re still together.” You state, and Jay winces. 

“Technically?” Now it’s your turn to cringe. “I went to her apartment before work yesterday, to try and talk through things but she was gone. Her place was completely clear. I didn’t even tell Will. That’s why I was at that bar last night, I was drinking my sorrows away.” 

“How am I supposed to believe you?” You whisper, teary eyed. You’re trying to take in everything he’s saying but you just don’t know if you trust him...

With a pained look Jay picks up him phone tilting it so you can see while he scrolls through his contacts, stopping on a name with a blue heart by it. He clicks on her name, and a picture of the two of them comes up as the line rings once, and then an automated voice chimes in. 

The number you have dialed is no longer in service. 

“I’ve sent her a hundred texts messages, but none of them have delivered.” He says, and his bottom lip is quivering. “You have to believe me, we’re over.” 

It sure seems that way... But the pain of thinking you were the other woman has quickly been replaced by the pain of realizing you’re the rebound. 

There’s no good outcome, any which way you spin this.

“So I was a rebound then?” You say, voice nearly breaking. 

He can’t say no to that, and it hurts you even more. “I don’t-, I don’t know. But I needed you last night. I saw you and I didn’t even think about her for the entire night. I felt okay for the first time since leaving mine and Erin’s empty apartment and I wanted to hold onto that. I still do.”

“Jay,” You whisper, “I don’t know if I can be that for you... It feels like high school all over again. Your second choice, again.” 

“You won’t be.” He reassures you, and then he steps forward to pull you into his arms and you shouldn’t let him but you do. “I promise you won’t be a second choice.” 

He can’t really promise that, though. He can try and you convince you of that, but he’s always been someone else’s. Never yours to lose. Tears roll down your cheeks and you try to pull away from him, but he’s not letting go. 

“I’m not ready to say goodbye to you yet.” 

.....

taglist: @nevertoofarfromivar​ @samanthavitale​ @malrunaway​ @bluecrush129​

[vagrantblvrd]

Do you have any ideas for the most angsty path to the Battle Buddies getting to finally be happy together?

Oh my God, this, okay, this.

So, idk if this is the most angsty path for these idiots, but it’s up there for me.

I mean, we all know by now what a terrific liar Jeremy is by now. He’s proven time and time again to be absolutely gifted, one might say.

SO.

Let’s say Ryan’s been working for whatever agency for a while now. Seen it go from something close to noble to something as far from that as you can get. (Not that there’s anything like noble in their line of work though, so there’s that.)

It’s nothing like the movies where there’s a clear-cut knowing right from wrong and all that, no.

Just comprise after compromise and sometimes you gotta look the other way and you can’t save everyone. (Trying to just gets you dead, or worse and you don’t want to know what that worse is, so yeah.)

Anyway, Ryan’s been at it for a while and he’s a jaded bastard, cynical as hell but the part of him that signed up for this life once upon a time is still in there somewhere. (Wants to do good, and he does when he can, but he’s been slapped down for it more than once and plays things smart(ish) - for the most part - now.)

And in comes Jeremy with that shine of someone just out of an academy somewhere or whatever training stage that churns out bright-eyed and bushy-tailed do-gooders like him, right?Ryan is like SIGH when he finds out Jeremy’s going to be his rookie because he won’t be the first, you know?

Ryan’s had other rookies placed in his care, and one way or another they don’t last long.

Not like he’s hard on them or anything, pushes them to quit, he’s just.

It takes a particular mindset to deal with Ryan’s…quirks. (Eccentricities.)

Part of the reason they stick the rookies with him, because God knows if they can’t handle him they won’t last long anyway. (Gotta be able to handle the weird and unexpected and all-around disturbing among other things, and Ryan’s pretty great at those things.)

So in comes Jeremy, this bright spot, and Ryan is SIGH because he knows how this goes. Kid comes in wanting to do good in the world and then reality sets in and it ruins them. (One way or another.)

Only.

Turns out under that bright smile and friendliness Jeremy’s a weird fuck too. Doesn’t bat an eye when Ryan goes about being Ryan, will, in fact, upstage him in certain areas. (Has that smirk and look on his face and instead of being annoyed Ryan’s impressed and amused and a little intrigued by this little shit that’s been dumped on him.)

Takes a little while before they really get along, but the seeds for it are there (pretty much) from the beginning.

A few bumps in the road here and there, because for all that Ryan’s starting to like Jeremy he’s still this kid, right. Young and really kind of dumb to be in this line of work and it’s just easier to think of him like that in his head. That line of reasoning behind people not naming strays they find so they don’t get attached. (Ryan pretends that actually works, like he doesn’t have some crotchety cats sharing space with him at home, or that old mutt he picked up a few years ago.)

Anyway.

They get along swimmingly, cause a lot of chaos and responsible for a hell of a lot of property damage (in the field for the most part, but their HQ and training facilities should invest in sturdier equipment - if it can’t take one little explosion and resulting fire not their fault).

They become a headache for the agency in a way that doesn’t involve conspiracy theories and the whatnot because sheer chaos and destruction and general mayhem.

Then Ryan makes the mistake of getting a little too close to Jeremy because they get sent on highly stressful missions with the death-defying shit they do and high-stakes everything. Close calls and moment to contemplate their mortality in the aftermath. Hours spent waiting for a target to arrive and the hurry up and wait.

Time spent recuperating from injuries and just.

Thinking.

A lot of it, and anyway, sometimes shit happens.

They’re on a mission somewhere and stuck in an alley with enemies searching for a couple of assholes and no cover, if they fuck up they blow the mission and get dead and all that fun and exciting shit?

Ryan’s the one to back Jeremy up against the alley wall, but Jeremy’s the one to huff in fond exasperation when Ryan doesn’t follow up with that tried and true making out to throw their pursuers off act everyone knows and uses at some point.

Gives Ryan this crooked little smile and then there’s kiss? Holy shit, there’s kissing.

Not like.

Romantically driven or anything like that, just the sure would be nice to not die in a dirty alley tonight kind of way, but, uh. Ryan’s kind of losing the thread here because even though it’s not supposed to be that kind of kiss, Jeremy’s still really fucking good at the general kissing thing.

And Ryan, with the hands that didn’t know what they were supposed to do so they settled on Jeremy’s hips, he kind of goes off-script. Takes those hands and cradles Jeremy’s face because this is Jeremy he’s kissing and it’s nice and he’s kind of fucked here, but hey. Kissing.

Also, also, maybe this tiny part of him that’s always been a little -lol- competitive because he’s not too bad with the kissing either. (And, okay, it’s Jeremy and Ryan can’t not make this good for him too and wow, wow, that’s not a conscious thought but he won’t realize it until later, so)

The guys chasing them fall for the assholes making out in a an alley ploy and the moment the two of them are clear Jeremy pulls back - looks a little dazed, which Ryan feels a touch smug about. (Or would, if he, too, wasn’t feeling the same.)

But then, okay, then they have that okay, now what? moment post-emergency situation kiss where Ryan’s hands are being awkward again.

Just. Suddenly super aware of their location. (Either side of Jeremy’s face with the wide eyes and :O expression, which, admittedly is less :O! and more :O? as time passes, but whatever.)

Still awkward and also shortness of breath from the extended emergency kiss and just.

Wow, never though that would work, but movies, huh? Ha-ha-ha???

Jeremy snorting beause Jesus Christ, Ryan, why are you like this?

But also, “We should, uh. Pick that up later?” and !!! “TALK. Talk about it later. Yes. Totally what I meant.”

But Jeremy’s kind of avoiding eye contact and blushing and Ryan goes from !!! to *eyebrow raise* and mm~hmm the way he does when he’s being a smug bastard. So naturally Jeremy elbows him in the ribs because mission! Must mission then li - talk. Yes. “Talk”.

(Spoiler: They do talk? But mostly it’s like. Kissing and other such things that usually end with a fade to black for television rating’s sake and such.)

Anyway.

These idiots get their shit together and sometimes there’s a smooch or two of these Fond Looks™ on missions. The whole making out in an alley ploy gets used a hell of a lot more, and sometimes it’s even mission related, so that’s always a bonus. :D

But.

In the meantime the corrupt bastards running the agency have gotten worse, and get some of Ryan’s and Jeremy’s buddies killed. Fellow agents and long-time contacts - people Ryan’s known and trusted for years and it’s not like Ryan was turning a blind eye to what his agency became, just.

What the hell could he do about it? (Bitter and cynical and no idea how bad it was until Jeremy came along and that was the beginning of the end because he started to give a shit again, didn’t he.)

Looked into things and caught the attention of the wrong people and he knew it. Warned Jeremy best he could without giving too much away - eyes and ears everywhere and of course his place is bugged to hell and back. (Smarter to leave ‘em in place than tip whoever planted them there off.)

Sure bet the same is true for Jeremy’s place and just.

Paranoia ramped up like whoa and then there’s this mission, right.

Bitch of a thing that should require months of prep and planning and lead-up time. Best intel they can get and maybe Ryan asking his contacts to look into things on the side for him, all hush-hush and the like.

But they don’t get that.

What they get is a skimpy batch of intel - no telling how good any of it is, or sources or anything. Super short time-frame because supposedly this situation popped up overnight without anyone anticipating it and it just.

The whole thing reeks of a trap and Ryan’s just like fuck, because before the whole Jeremy Situation he would have been - not fine with it because wow no, just. A little less angry about it.

Because definitely a scheme by the baddies to get them (him) killed and never mind the collateral damage.

So.

Ryan tells Jeremy he’s got a bad feeling about it after the briefing and Jeremy’s like. He’s got the same feeling because he’s not an idiot, but he also doesn’t know their agency the way Ryan does.

Thinks Ryan’s just being paranoid or something like that and tells him they’ve been through worse, so no worries, right?

Ryan’s like oh, fuck again because now is not the time for this optimism bullshit, Jeremy, but he can’t exactly say that, so.

They go off on their mission and Ryan tries, he really does, to tell Jeremy about what he’s been doing RE conspiracy shit and baddies and all that, but something always interrupts.

It’s Jeremy being all “Sorry, what, I wasn’t listening,” because he was going over their intel one more time on the flight out and distracted and then someone sat next to them and not a great time talk about it.

They’re waiting for a contact to arrive and Jeremy notices what he thinks is someone following them so they have to deal with that instead, and so on until they get to the heart of the mission.

Stealth until it’s not, and then shooting and yelling and the requisite explostions —-> fire and just as Ryan thinks they’ve managed to survive the hell mission?

Shit’s on fire all around them and the target (along with a large chunk of their people) are dead and it’s just the two of them in what used to be a lavish home built on the backs of others and so forth.

Ryan turns to Jeremy, some stupid joke - a quip or a one-liner or something stupid like that on his lips - and Jeremy pulls a gun on him.

Aims it at Ryan’s chest and blank expression and, “You should have left things alone, Ryan,” and “I’ve got my orders,” and “Don’t” when Ryan takes a step towards him. (To ask why, or talk him down or reason with him, it doesn’t matter because Jeremy and Ryan and God, he should have known better. He did, but then Jeremy happened and Ryan fucked up.)

Ryan is like ??? and kind of hoping this is some terrible joke, but it’s not and Jeremy’s not smiling or laughing and just when he’s about to pull the trigger one of the baddies goons (late to the party and all) stumbles in and draws Jeremy’s attention - and a bullet - which gives Ryan the chance to blindside Jeremy.

Only not so much and there’s this knockdown no-holds barred fight. Ryan’s on the defensive at first because he doesn’t want to hurt Jeremy, doesn’t know what’s going on, but Jeremy’s clearly out for blood.

Wants to kill him, hurt him, and eventually that gets through to Ryan, sinks in that this isn’t some fucked up joke or like all the times they’ve sparred in the past, and he gets angry when he realizes it, fights back.

Because Jeremy’s being a bastard, letting loose with these comments and remarks, throwing everything Ryan thought they had in his face. Telling him he’s stupid for trusting Jeremy, should have known better.

Wasn’t he the one to tell Jeremy not to trust anyone in their line of work? That it would just get him a knife in the back sooner or later? That there are go good people left anymore? And so on, right on into things Ryan told him he hadn’t told anyone else and it stings, burns.

Plays dirty, to win, and this isn’t like all the times they’ve sparred in the past. Impersonal at first, because they didn’t know one another and Ryan was testing him and then it became fun, because they were friends (and then more) and sometimes there was totally unfair cheating with stolen kisses as distraction and getting pinned to the mat or a wall for more kisses and then the whole sparring thing got sidelined, but yeah, this is not one of those times.

This is Jeremy aiming for Ryan’s knees, his kidneys. Going for his fucking throat and this look in his eyes Ryan’s never seen and he reacts in kind.

They draw blood, break bones, go vicious and underhanded and Ryan gets the upper hand at some point. Stares into Jeremy’s eyes and how easy would it be to kill him right now?

So easy, just fucking kill him and walk away and lesson learned, but -

Jeremy’s just looking back, all battered and bruised and this thing like resignation in the back of his eyes and Ryan hesitates.

Just enough for Jeremy to turn the tables, grab his gun that Ryan knocked away at the beginning of the fight and comes back up with it leveled at Ryan’s chest.

Only this time Ryan’s got his gun out too and it’s a stalemate.

Ryan staring at Jeremy because what else can he do? He’s got his gun in his hand and no way he could miss at this range (the same is true for Jeremy too, but not the point) but he knows he can’t kill Jeremy.

(Too soft, weak. Stupid as hell.)

“Why?” he asks, but he never gets an answer because Jeremy shoots him.

Always a hell of a shot and, again, no chance he could miss at that range and Ryan goes down.

Not a killing shot, because body armor and Jeremy knows it, but it knocks the wind out of Ryan and he’s pretty sure he’s got fractured if not fully broken ribs and everything’s gone all…fucky. (Getting shot will do that to you, even if you’re wearing body armor. Also the fight beforehand isn’t helping because tired as hell and hurting and it’s been a really shitty day, hasn’t it.)

Jeremy walks over to him, looms, and Ryan’s just trying to breathe without blacking out. (Not doing a great job of it because ow, but hey. He’d rather go out looking Jeremy in the eye than not, you know?)

Jeremy clenches his jaw and Ryan dredges up a smirk, little, do it, you bastard to it because he doesn’t have the air to say it? But wow is he thinking it.

Just as Jeremy’s about to put another bullet in Ryan, make this one count, there’s a commotion.

The baddie’s backup, their backup, or local law enforcement (the place has been on fire for a while AND the whole things blowing up shit beforehand) who knows.

Whoever it is, Jeremy has to make his escape before they catch him and such.

(Throws one last look at Ryan before he does, though, and even though Ryan’s on his way to passing the fuck out he could almost swear there’s something like regret in it, but that’s probably wishful thinking on his part and the whatnot.)

Ryan ends up in a local hospital as a John Doe (or whatever they’re called now?) and ~sneaks out before the authorities can question him about recent events or Jeremy or someone else comes around to finish the job.

Learns he’s been declared dead, killed in the line of duty and what a shame, you know? He was a hell of an agent and a good man and they’re really laying it on thick.

Hides out for a while while his ribs heal and hesitant to reach out to his contacts because so many of them became Jeremy’s contacts too, and it’s just.

Not even paranoia at that point so much as playing it safe, or smart, or whatever.

Dreams up all these elaborate plans of Revenge and the whatnot against the agency and the baddies (Jeremy lumped in there too, although Ryan never really has a plan for him, just. You know. General revenge plans.)

Anyway.

Once his ribs heal and he’s had time to think about it and not just reacting, Ryan realizes he’s done with all that shit, you know?

Tired, broken, whatever and he takes what he had before the hell mission and Jeremy’s betrayal and dumps it on some journalist or whoever somewhere he knows will jump at the chance to get to the bottom of things.

Maybe it’s someone at an agency that’s still in it’s almost noble stage of life that will Do The Right Thing and break his old agency the way it deserves to be broken.

Not his problem anymore.

Gets his hands on some fake IDs and all that and pulls money from accounts he set up years ago in case he had to fake his death or go on the run because you never know when you’re going to need something like that.

Sets up  new life for himself somewhere.

====

If we’re going with FAHC AU that means the Vagabond rolls into town with the dumb mask - two birds one stone with the Intimidation Factor and hiding his identity.

He Vagabonds about for a while until the Fakes hire him for a job and he’s like. ??? because what even are these assholes? But against his better judgement he finds himself liking them more than he thought he would and just. All kinds of shenanigans all over the place. Also, so, so much regret on Geoff’s part as Ryan and Gavin team up to make his life miserable and Michael enables their shenanigans and Ray is like :D about it all. Jack is very much >:D because Geoff asked for this.

Somewhere in there Ryan keeps tabs on his old agency and feels this hollow sense of petty vindication when he hears it’s been broken wide open thanks to his help and some outside sources - no one can agree on who or how or whatever, but he’s glad to be done with all that. (Doesn’t want to think about it anymore.)

ANYWAY.

Things happen and they pick up this asshole for another job, Ryan’s heard about him from the others, right? This free-lancer they worked with a time or two before. No fashion-sense to speak of, according to Gavin, but always hilarious and the good kind of chaos. (Weird how very not reassuring that is? But okay, whatever.)

Thing is, it’s almost like this guy is avoiding him? Whenever he’s around the penthouse it seems Ryan always “just missed the guy”, or when they’re out on a job he’s sniping because Ray’s off God knows where for a job from a friend of a friend if not working for the Roosters.

(More and more these days and really, they all know he’s going to head off on his own one of these days, just waiting on Ray to come out and say it, and no hard feelings because these things happen, but keep in touch and give them a call if he needs help and so on.)

Ryan is like. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

Figures the guys just not comfortable working with the Vagabond and doing it on purpose, which. Fine. So long as he’s where they need him to be and he doesn’t do anything to put the others at risk he can deal with that.

But then!

He’s on a job with this asshole as sniper and Gavin and Michael are also there and things fall apart, right? Turn to shit and there’s shooting and yelling and oh my God, Gavin, if you don’t shut up right now about that goddamn coin conversation again he’s going to kill you to save the assholes trying to kill them the trouble, okay? Now is not the time!

(Because they may or may not have been ~discussing coins and odds before things turned to shit and Gavin just rolls right on into the shootout still going on about the damn thing even with people trying to kill them and this isn’t funny, MIchael!!1!)

The sniper is just up there doing his thing, dropping baddies and opening up pathways for them with the killing the assholes in the way and all.

They get the hell out of there and regroup at a car Gavin tells them to head for. (He’s the only one still with his earpiece and a direct line to the sniper and anyway, Gavin seems to know where to go.)

Ryan’s going for the driver side door when Michael hip checks him right the fuck out of the way - “Are you fucking kidding me? The fuck out of here with your shitty driving!” - and shoves him towards the back passenger seat while he hops behind the wheel.

Gavin hops into the back with him and they peel out, Gavin giving MIchael directions to pick up their sniper while Ryan fires potshots at the assholes still chasing them.

A few terrifying moments later and they squeal to a stop a street or so over, and this asshole Ryan’s never met hops in. He gets a flash of color -purple and orange and yellow - and then they’re off again and it’s all chaos and mayhem and shooting some bastards when they make the mistake of getting too close.

Head to a safe house somewhere to hide out until they can figure out what the fuck went wrong, and Ryan finally, finally gets to meet the sniper.

Fucking freezes when he does, the guy slowly turning around after saying something to Gavin and oh, fuck, it’s goddamn Jeremy.

Ryan’s got his gun out and aimed at his his face without thinking about it, feels cold and disconnected and he’ll be damned if he lets Jeremy fuck with his family.

There’s some yellng from Michael and Gavin, and Gavin the little idiot getting between Ryan and Jeremy. Hands up andhey, c’mon, what are you doing Vagabond? We’re all friends here, aren’t we? And so on because Jeremy isn’t supposed to know who he is - no one but inner crew and a few select others know his name at this point - and Ryan’s so fucking on edge he can’t even, is about to yell at Gavin to get out of his way, Michael do something, he doesn’t know -

“Hey, Ryan,” and that’s Jeremy’s crooked little smile he gets sometimes Ryan remembers too damn clearly.

That soft little tone he used to get that’s like a knife in Ryan’s chest (he knows what it’s like, and this is worse because Jeremy and betrayal and what the fuck - )

“Jeremy,” Ryan says, nice and level and this threat behind it that has Gavin standing up straighter, losing that calming, soothing look to his face that has him turning to face Jeremy.

Backing up a step and to the side so he’s not in the line of fire and something eases in Ryan at seeing it. Realizing that whatever Gavin thinks, he’s trusting Ryan’s judgement over Jeremy’s, or.

Something.

(He knows the crew’s worked with the sniper - Jeremy - before, weirdly always when Ryan was out of town for reasons, but they haven’t known him as long as they have Ryan and it’s. He doesn’t know what it is, that Gavin is trusting things to Ryan at this point but it’s important.)

Michael, who’s off to the side in all this makes this irritated noise and drags Gavin back, keeps him behind the two of them and it’s just as reassuring for Ryan to know he’s trusting Ryan’s judgement on this too.

Makes that paranoid part of him that never quite got over the whole Jeremy Situation settle at knowing they’re on his side in this.

And then Jeremy sighs. Tells Ryan he knows he won’t believe him but there was a reason for the betrayal all those years ago.

Ryan’s not falling for it, but Jeremy just shrugs an keeps going. Tells Ryan about some assholes that approached him between missions, made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.

Double agent kind of shit to help expose their agency - told him about the shit they were doing and how it would look if they went ahead without him, you know?

How Ryan and other agents who weren’t involved would be lumped in with the real baddies - following orders isn’t a good defense when it comes down to it - but if Jeremy helped them, maybe they could do something about that?

See to it Ryan didn’t go to jail (or worse), but to do it he’d have to pretend to be working for the baddies.

Let them think he was one of theirs, just as greedy and ambitious and he went along with it to protect Ryan when the “good guys” came along to destroy everything the baddies were working towards.

Did a lot of bad shit to get closer to the baddies and the people in charge, things he regrets even now, but they didn’t really trust him, did they.

Knew all about Jeremy and Ryan and so they decided to test his loyalty.

Arranged that last mission fo theirs and gave him an extra objective to kill Ryan for them if for some reason everything else on that mission didn’t.

And Jeremy, okay.

He goes to the “good guys” and tells them about it and gets no goddamned help from them because they don’t give a shit after all. Tell him not to blow this for them - if he does, Jeremy’s going to end up in jail (or worse) right with Ryan and the rest and he better remember that.

So Jeremy, okay.

No fucking clue what to do, only that if he fucks up here they’re screwed anyway and no way out for them he can see?

(Tries to tell Ryan, but he just. Can’t? Doesn’t know how and by the time he does, it’s too late.)

He never planned to kill Ryan was ready to let Ryan kill him, because Ryan’s always been smart. Would have found a way to survive, get out from under the thumb of their agency and start over somewhere else and just. Fuck, Jeremy was so fucking tired at that point?

Stress of all the secrets he was keeping and the things he’d done and just.

Would have been  relief, you know, if Ryan put a bullet in his head that day, to be honest.

But then the commotion and having to run and he tried to find Ryan afterwards but the fucker turned into a ghost. (Thought he might actually be dead for a while there, until he heard rumors about this guy in Los Santos and got curious enough to go looking, but that’s another story all on its own.)

Jeremy stuck around with the good guys and their Plans to destroy the agency long enough to see it through to the end. Angry and bitter and no satisfaction when it happened, because they’d taken too much from him by then.

(Felt this twinge of amusement when he heard they’d gotten a huge boost/help from some journalist and this pile of secrets someone dumped on them, and that was the start of this bit of hope Ryan might still be alive.)

He dropped off the grid for a while after that, did the whole new identity thing for a while and ended up on the other side of the law. Heard those rumors about the Vagabond and went looking, and somehow always seemed to just miss the guy, you know?

Ran into this sniper somewhere, became a backup sniper to the Fakes and enjoyed working for them more than any of the other assholes who’d hire him on for whatever needed doing.

Coasted along, had a damn good hunch the Vagabond everyone talked about as Ryan - too many coincidences for him not to be, really - and had no idea what to feel about the inevitability of them running into one another again some day.

(Bound to happen in a city like Los Santos, given their shitty luck and the fact they had ties to the same crew and just. Yeah.)

When it did, he kept finding reasons not to come face-to-face with Ryan for a long damn time. Did everything he could not to, because how the fuck could he hope to explain himself?

But then this latest situation and Jeremy providing cover for Ryan (so much like the old days) and the others and then the car chase and now this, and just.

Yeah.

He’s expecting a bullet in his head, or maybe Ryan’s going to draw it out, but.

Ryan’s staring at him - or it seems like he is. Hard to tell with the damn mask, and.

Just.

Ryan, okay.

Staring at Jeremy and that scar along his chin he gave him back in that fight way back when. Barely noticeable with the beard Jerremy’s got now, but there’s this little break in the beard where the scar runs. Wouldn’t notice it if you weren’t looking for it kind of thing.

A few others, all healed up by no (it’s been years, better hope they would be) and Ryan just feels.

Fuck if he knows, just.

Gavin and Michael, hell, everyone seems(ed) to trust Jeremy before this, but so did Ryan and look how that turned out.

But.

Ryan’s always been an idiot, especially when it comes to Jeremy.

(Too soft, weak. Stupid as hell.) 

“Why?” he asks, even though Jeremy’s just told him, them, because.

He asked way back when, heart cracked right down the middle and bleeding out and Jeremy staring at him like he was a stranger. (A target and nothing personal, but I’ve got my orders.)

Jeremy could take the easy answer here, say it was to protect Ryan, but was it, really? (Yes, but also no, and no easy answer at all.)

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Jeremy says, because Ryan always told him there was no such thing for people like them.

(For anyone, really. There’s always more than one side to a story and someone’s hero is someone’s villain and all of that convoluted shit and just. Yeah, no fun at parties.)

Ryan snorts, because it sounds like Jeremy really thought he was, at the time.

(Younger and stupider and. Something to protect, even if Ryan’s having a hard time believing it after everything. Wants to, though, so fucking bad because after everything he still loves Jeremy in a way.)

“If you hurt them, I’ll kill you,” he says, completely serious and no give to it because Ryan’s stupid and weak, sure, to be giving Jeremy a second chance now but.

There’s Gavin and Michael and the others. There’s Jeremy looking wrecked by everything he’s just told Ryan (them) and letting him make the call on whether or not to kill him like whatever Ryan decides is fine with him, and just.

He can’t bring himself to kill Jeremy on his own behalf, but if he so much as indicates he’s going to put the others at risk he’ll do it.

And then, you know.

Long awkward time of them learning to work together since Ray ends up leaving not long afterward and they need someone to fill his position.

There’s A Talk with Geoff about it, but Ryan is just. He doesn’t mind, so long as Jeremy doesn’t hurt anyone in the crew. (More complicated than that because he’s still all fucked up about it, but can handle working with Jeremy for the crew’s sake and so on.)

It takes a long, long time before they’re anywhere close to being okay again. Ryan slowly learning to trust Jeremy again.

Learning this new Jeremy who’s old and smarter, yeah, but he’s gained this edge the Jeremy he knew never had. Gotten angrier, jaded and bitter and so on and it’s hard reconciling this Jeremy to  past Jeremy and just. (He sees the Jeremy he remembers from time to time, though. Usually around Gavin and Michael and the others, when his guard’s lowered and it’s. Fuck, it’s confusing as hell and he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on in his own head.)

There are all these Situations that happen from time to time, things that leave Ryan running around knowing Jeremy’s up high somewhere with that sniper rifle of his and how easy it would be for him to take Ryan out in the confusion. Blame it on the chaos and all that and know the others would forgive him for it (at some point) and move on and Christ, that’s dark, but it still runs through his mind every goddamn time.

Never happens though, and there are times Jeremy’s not sniping, feet on the ground right next to Ryan and this shove at the last minute that means Jeremy takes a bullet for him.

Bloody and injured but not dying - guy shooting for Ryan was a terrible shot - and loopy on painkillers and this soft, sad smile and “I’m sorry, Ryan,” and “I fucked up,” and “I know you won’t forgive me, but that’s okay, I hate me too,” and other such things that send Ryan the fuck out of there to go shoot shit in the shooting range or driving like a madman through the streets of Los Santos all the way up to Chiliad until the anger and hurt in his chest burns itself out.

(Anger at Jeremy for not just fucking talking to Ryan way back when, tell him what was going on and his ow obliviousness and secrets and how fucking stupid it all was. How they could have avoided the whole mess if they’d just fucking talked, and how fucked up things are now and just. God, he doesn’t know.)

Jeremy doesn’t seem to remember any of what he said while on painkillers and neither does Ryan.

They both do, of course. Jeremy assuming he’s right about Ryan hating him and Ryan coming to terms/making peace with the fuckery that was/is their lives and starting to look at Jeremy from the other side of all that anger and hurt.

Seeing the way he is around the others, how they are around him. How determined to keep them safe Jeremy is, the hits he takes to do so.

And then at some point they just.

Click again. Work together better than ever - were doing fine before, but now? The others take notice, realize something’s shifted but not sure what, and Ryan catches Jeremy giving him these odd, thoughtful (hopeful) glances when he thinks Ryan isn’t looking.

Goes on like that for a long damn time, and then there’s a Situation and the whole making out in an alley ploy comes back into play, only this time it’s Jeremy who’s hesitating.

Jeremy who doesn’t seem to be able to take that last step, seems scare to, and Ryan.

God, he just.

Snorts, fond and exasperated and then there’s kissing.

Careful, careful, his hands don’t dare touch Jeremy this time around because this is such a fraught situation for them, stay on the wall behind Jeremy, fingers digging into the brickwork as his heart races because this brings up all kinds of memories and doubts and insecurities and fears, and it’s such a mistake.

But it saves their lives, has the assholes chasing them moving past without incident and then he’s staring at Jeremy who’s staring back, this heartbreakingly fragile thing in his eyes and it’s just.

“We should talk,” Ryan says, voice rough and heart about to burst from his chest and all this emotion in him he can’t sort out just yet. “Later. We should talk.”

Because feelings and them and their whole fucked up backstories pre-Fakes and yeah.

They do talk, and it’s this godawful painful thing with raw emotions and such but when it’s over there’s. Hope that they can maybe salvage what they had before, piece it together again and patchwork that shit with the things that have made them who they are now and create something stronger because of it, and oh my God, my mcfreaking heart, okay.

But yes.

====

If we’re sticking with the general Battle Buddies AU he finds himself a quaint little town to become the resident weirdo.

(You know the one, right? Lives in a small cabin/house somewhere a few miles outside the town or city or whatever. Seems nice enough, but also some kind of survivalist or something. Comes into town once or twice a week for supplies and such. Will chat with the store clerks or someone striking up a conversation but generally won’t initiate one himself.

Doesn’t cause anyone trouble and maybe - totally - takes in that three-legged stray that’s been a mainstay in town for a while. Got hit by a car or something a year or so back and the vet saved its life at the cost its leg. Someone took it in for a while but it ran away or they moves away and anyway, it’s kind of a weird dog, itself.

Not mean or dangerous, just. Weird.

Then Ryan comes along and the damn thing takes a liking to him (and vice versa) and anyway, they seem pretty happy about the state of things.

Wherever he ends up he’s there for a while, right? A year or two, and then one day this Stranger shows up. Goes out to Ryan’s place and the dumb stray starts barking at this tresspaser and when Ryan goes out to see what’s got it riled up, there’s Jeremy.

There’s a whole hell of a lot less Drama this go around, because reasons.

Just Ryan and Jeremy and this scruffy stray.

A lot of talking and explaining - the same bit about Jeremy forced to work for the “good guys” to protect Ryan and how well that went, what with the whole fight and whatnot that led to Ryan living in this tiny little town somewhere.

Ryan’s kind of.

He’s just.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

If Jeremy’s there to kill him he’s going to find it harder to do than way back when, if hes not?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

Jeremy is at a loss, but knows he wants to make amends - or something - with Ryan.

Gets a place of his own out there, rents out a room somewhere in town and goes out to Ryan’s all the fucking time.

Helps him with repairs around the place or with the garden he’s starting to grow some vegetables and the whatnot. Fishes and hunts and is just.

There.

Makes friends with the people in town, and Ryan feels this thing like annoyance/amusement when he realizes they’ve taken a liking to Jeremy. Cannot figure out how the hell he knows someone like Ryan or why they’re friends (are they?) and keeps quiet when they ask him about it.

This goes on for a long damn time, and Ryan’s just like wondering when Jeremy will get tired of it and move on, but he never does.

If Jeremy’s there to kill him, he’s doing a terrible job of it, isn’t he?

They’ve had Talks every now and then, hashing out what happened, what went wrong. Screamed and yelled and lost their tempers and broken down and just.Not all that fun, and yet Jeremy’s still fucking there.

Before he knows it there’s more of Jeremy’s stuff at his place than not, and the stray loves Jeremy and Ryan’s just.

Doesn’t know when that happened or when he stopped feeling wary of Jeremy being around (he does though, he so fucking does) and started feeling.

Not quite happy, but definitely something good to it.

It takes a long damn time for them to get around to realizing they’re going to be okay, all this shit where they have good days and bad ones. Longer still before the good ones outnumber the bad ones and some moment where Ryan kisses Jeremy without thinking.

Some sleepy morning, cold and brisk and winter coming on and the heat hasn’t kicked in yet and they’re shuffling around the kitchen. Moving around one another and Jeremy hands him a diet coke - would be coffee for any normal human, but Ryan still can’t stand coffee unless it’s heavily doctored with sugar and cream and whatever else and he still prefers his damn diet coke and Jeremy knows that.

Soft little smile and a murmured “thanks, Jeremy,” and absent kiss and Jeremy freezing because !!! that has Ryan ??? before he realizes.

And then he does, suddenly more awake as he looks down at Jeremy. Worried about having overstepped - he’s glad to have his friend back but doesn’t know if Jeremy wants them back, and did he fuck things up?

Jeremy snorts - that fond, exasperated thing - and makes a joke about Ryan just loving him for the diet coke, and trying to make light of it, let Ryan off the hook.

Ryan thinks about it for a moment, about letting this slide and pretending it never happened, but.

He’s happy, he realizes. Jeremy back in his life and this fragile trust their building between them again, and.

“I mean,” he says, “that’s one reason,” and is prepared for Jeremy to laugh and then go on with his business like nothing happened, but of course he doesn’t.

Just looks up at Ryan with all these FEELINGS in his eyes and.

“Oh, yeah?”

And Ryan is like, well, yeah.

Some dorks being dorks and then another kiss, helped along by the stray who runs into the room for the food Jeremy set out for him like the disaster it is. Knocks into Ryan in the process who stumbles into Jeremy who steadies him with his hands on his hips and this dumb smile at the stray’s antics, and looks up at Ryan who’s staring at him, and then another kiss happens because heart so full and all this FEELING and just.

Yes.

Much kissing and eventual happily ever after in this tiny little town in the middle of nowhere where they become the town’s old married couple.

Weird as hell and all the animals they end up adopting, because soft touches and neither of them able to tell the other no and mean it?

But also stupid in love and no one better to go to when a Situation crops up, as they’re wont to do a la movies where greedy assholes send thugs in to intimidate the locals and someone has to Take A Stand and just, idk, but pretty much every other episode of the A-Team tv show there ever was, because reasons. :D?

:D?????????????

[multifandomimagin3s]

Sweet Cheeks | Kabal Smut

Warnings: Smut, 18+

You didn’t even have to look at him to know that he was staring at you – you could feel his eyes burning into the back of your skull. Those eyes – amber like whiskey - never failed to send a shiver raking down the length of your spine; or rather, it was the dark swirl within them that somehow managed to turn your brain to mush, primal desire clambering to the front of your mind. He could turn you into a horny teenager again with so few words that it was impressive, but irritating. Very irritating, in fact – getting all worked up without being able to do anything about it was the very definition of torture.

In the short year that you’d been in the Black Dragon, it was clear that there was some form of tension between yourself and the hook-wielding male. Normally, this would be resolved with very heated arguments – sparked over nothing in particular but given that the entire team were collectively acting as cock-blocks, yelling seemed to help diffuse that deep burning desire. To on-lookers, he probably appeared to despise you – and vice versa – and whether that was true on his part, you weren’t sure. But what you were sure of was that, given half the chance, you would jump his bones.

Kano, being the dick that he always seemed to be, was planning on setting Erron, Kabal and yourself off on another ‘mission’ – a euphemism for some form of heist or assassination that he didn’t want to disclose too many details on. All you apparently ‘needed to know’ was that there was a shipment coming in on one of Earthrealm’s ports – one that was worth a hell of a lot of money – and as such, it was to be interrupted upon arrival. Erron waved the Aussie off with the excuse of “I got better shit to be doing,” which surprisingly wasn’t met with resistance. You could’ve cursed the Texan – he just solidified your place in the mission.

“What a shithole...” Kabal stated, voice reverberating through his mask slightly. To be able to properly be prepared for the mission, Kano had sent you both on ahead a day in advance – whatever was coming in that shipment was obviously important, he’s never typically this tenacious. Unfortunately for you, that meant that you had to hunker down for the night in what looked to be one of the worst motels in history. The drab, pale grey walls had begun to peel, curls of paint decorating the far wall. The carpet didn’t look to be in better condition, as it seemed to have a stain for every colour of the rainbow. The only clean thing in the room was the bed, but even the sheets were a strange off-white tone.

“It’s freezing in here,” You huffed, fingertips tapping the radiator; ice-cold. With a sigh, you shrugged your duffel bag onto the ground, rolling your shoulders at the relief from the weight,” Fuck it – it could be worse.”

“It could be worse,” Kabal mocked under his breath, kicking the door shut with his heel. You rolled your eyes at his impish actions – it had been a long day, in fairness, but if you were going to be able to share a room for the short time you would be here you’d have to get along. There would be no use killing each other over something as trivial as a motel room.

Kabal tossed his stuff haphazardly to the side of the bed, launching himself onto the covers. The mattress creaked in protest to the sudden movement. Now that he was sprawled across it, the bed seemed to be a lot smaller than it was before – it wouldn’t fit two people. Images of you sharing with him flashed into your mind, involuntarily tinting your cheeks a light pink.

“Didn’t your Mother ever teach you that staring is rude, Sweet Cheeks?” Kabal smirked, rolling onto his side to stare at you in amusement. You blinked a few times, a deeper blush now clouding over your face at the realisation that you’d most definitely been staring,” I mean, I know I’m hot, but –“

“Wow, so humble,” You retorted, having recovered from your temporary mortification,” I was concerned about the fact that your fat ass is taking up the entirety of the bed.”

His brows raised, a short chuckle escaping his lips,” Oh, so the mouse does have a voice. I mean there’s plenty of room here for two people…might just have to get a bit close.”

As appealing as that sounded, you weren’t going to give him the benefit of even taking him on. You turned, kneeling on the floor to dig through your duffel bag. With your back turned to him, you missed how intense his stare became on your form. The way you were crouched – on your knees, sitting back on your feet – made your ass look amazing. The sight alone made his cock stir in his pants. He bit his bottom lip, only averting his faze when you turned back towards him, folded clothes in hand,” You do what you like – I’m going for a shower.”

 ----------------

No matter what he did, he couldn’t get that image out of his head; your ass was perfect. You were perfect. One image transformed into another – he wondered how your skin would feel under his hands, his touch. His stiffening cock gave him no relief, straining against the tightness of his pants. The noise of the shower running gave way to another set of images – he wanted to join you so badly, pin you up against the tiled wall and fuck you until you couldn’t walk. He moaned lowly as his palm swiped across his clothed dick, his attempts at diffusing his growing arousal only adding fuel to the fire burning in his loins.

The sound of the shower door opening brought him crashing back to reality. He quickly swiped the pillow from the head of the bed, using it as a shield to hide his now obvious erection from you. You stepped out from the bathroom, a navy-blue fluffy towel wrapped around your body, hair still slightly dripping water. His hazy eyes didn’t know where to look first – your legs, now exposed to him for the first time. He’d only ever seen you in your uniform – a relatively skin-tight number which, to quote Kano the wordsmith, was “pure boner-food.” Your breasts were slightly squished against your body, from where your arm held the towel close to you so it wouldn’t fall. You unknowingly were killing him.

“Kabal?” He blinked. You were standing much closer to him now, and he felt his heart rate spike. He swallowed thickly, watching as a bead of water slid down from your neck, to the valley between your breasts, away from sight.

Holy shit – he was definitely checking you out. Feeling brave, you took another step forward, coming to stand between his legs which hung off the edge of the bed. His grip was tight on the pillow that rested in his lap; it didn’t take a genius to guess why that was there, given his tense posture and lustful gaze. You could see he was mentally fighting with himself on what to do next. This was the first time you’d been able to be truly alone with him, and who knows when you’d next have an opportunity like this. So, you went for it.

You crashed your lips to his, eyes closed; if he pushed you away, then fair enough. But he didn’t – he did the opposite. You gasped into his mouth as he took your waist in his hands, tugging you firmly into his lap. The pillow had been tossed aside; your bare sex collided with his clothed cock, hard and twitching under your weight. The friction sent a soft whimper tumbling from your lips. Kabal smirked, hands taking the edges of the towel in his hands. With one tug, you were completely bare in front of him.

A hot blush came to your features as his eyes roamed the exposed flesh in appreciation, tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip. His hands skimmed your bare sides, moving slowly upwards to cup your breasts; he gave the soft mounds a gentle squeeze, grinning as he pulled more soft, wanton moans from your mouth. His thumbs toyed with your nipples,” You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this, Princess.”

Princess. Something about the nickname, coated in lust and want, coming from him sent a wave of heat to your core. He bent over, placing his mouth over your left nipple, tongue flicking the pebble gently. Your hand came up to tangle in his hair, ruffling his pony tail as you scratched lightly at his scalp. He let go with a slight ‘pop’, sucking your clavicle harshly, lightly scraping the flesh with his teeth.

In a flash, you suddenly had swapped places. You were sprawled out on your back against the sheets, Kabal now crawling over you. You chuckled breathlessly, arms looping around his neck to pull him down to you in a heated kiss. He let out a groan as your tongue traced his bottom lip, begging for entrance. Well, who was he to deny you?

He leant down on his left elbow, supporting his weight, as his right hand began to slide down your body. His nails scratched lightly on your navel, watching as your hips wiggled in anticipation at what was to come. His form slinked off the bed, coming to kneel at the end of the bed. He took your thighs in his large hands, pulling your centre closer to him. You giggled at his strength, biting your lower lip coquettishly.

Kabal’s attention was now directed towards the spot between your legs. You were wet, glistening in the low light. His index finger traced your folds, deliberately avoiding your clit,” Holy shit.” Before you could even reply, his finger slid into your warmth, curling in search of that special spot that would have you squealing. Your toes curled as he brushed against it, a second finger joining the first to add more pressure. You moaned out a garbled, high-pitched version of his name as he sped up his movements, the sinful sound of your slick folds growing louder.

Just as you could almost taste your approaching orgasm, he pulled away, a string of clear, slick connecting his fingers to your pussy. Your shoulders raised off the bed, brows furrowed in frustration for your lost orgasm,” What the fu-“ He slid his slickened fingers into your mouth, moaning lowly as you suckled the digits.

“You talk too much, Baby,” He jested, placing his hot tongue over your clit. Your eyes shut, moaning around his fingers as he sucked on the small bundle of nerves like his life depended on it. Your legs took refuge on his shoulders, the hard muscles tensing and relaxing as he moved. His thumb took to circling your clit, tongue dipping into your centre. You reached for his hair, trying to pull his head closer to you if that was even possible. Kabal hummed, hand squeezing your thigh, the vibrations almost making your eyes roll back into your skull.

You gasped, body shuddering in delight as he pulled your climax out of you. Kabal let you ride out your high, holding your hips to his face tightly, arms locked around your waist. He licked his lips, before stepping back to admire his work. You’d barely even started and he’d reduced you to a quivering mess,” This is beautiful.”

You giggled, slowly sitting up. Your body was still tingling in post-orgasmic bliss, but the night was far from over. Standing on slightly shaky legs, you cupped his aching bulge in your hand, grinning as he let out a hiss. His hand game to grab your ass, kneading the supple flesh in his hand. Wordlessly, you reached for his belt-buckle, taking the metal clasp in your hands, undoing it swiftly.

You slid your hand down past his boxers, grasping his dick. The sensation of your soft palm meeting his hot flesh was enough to make him shudder, eyes closing in bliss. But he needed more. He needed you.

He shrugged his tank top off, his necklace jangling as he tossed the material over his shoulder. You helped shimmy his pants and boxers down to his ankles, which too were flung off to one of the corners of the room. His hands scraped the wet tendrils of your hair into a makeshift ponytail, as your nails scratched at his happy trail. His stomach jumped at the sensation and you grinned. He smiled lopsidedly,” You minx.”

Your small hand wrapped around the base of his dick, giving it a few slow pumps. A bead of pre-cum formed at the head; you caught it with the pad of your thumb, smearing it across his tip. Kabal took in a deep breath, his grip tightening slightly on your hair in response. Your tongue licked a bold stripe from his balls to his tip, pressing into the vein on the underside of his shaft, before sucking the head into your mouth.

“We should’ve started doing this – fuck – a while ago, instead of fighting,” Kabal moaned out as you slurped his entire length into your mouth. His tip hit the back of your throat, eliciting a short gag as you took him as far as you could go. Pulling back, your hands jerked what you couldn’t fit in your mouth as you bobbed your head faster, his hips now jerking randomly in response. You hummed a girlish moan against his shaft, cradling his balls in your hand. The additional stimulation had him throwing his head backwards with a low groan, beads of sweat forming on his brow.

You pulled back with a ‘pop’, hand still pumping his length briskly,” I didn’t think you liked me at all, but clearly I was wrong – at least, to some degree.” Kabal nodded, catching your wrist in his hand to pull your grip from his dick. You stood to your feet, slightly woozy as the blood rushed to your head. He pulled you close, chest to chest, capturing your mouth in an intense kiss.

He scooped you up into his arms, legs wrapped around his waist. His arms hooked underneath your thighs, holding you up as if you were as light as a feather. Kabal pulled away with a boyish grin,” You were wrong, Sweet Cheeks – I can’t stop thinking about you, you’ve grown on me.”

You giggled as you were tossed backwards onto the bedspread. Kabal’s hungry gaze watched your breasts bounce, before he covered your body with his own. Your legs snared his waist, hand reaching down to stroke him once – then twice – before lining him up with your eager, dripping core. His whiskey-coloured eyes stared into yours as he shifted his hips forwards, sheathing himself inside you with one slow thrust. You gasped as there was a slight sting in response to his size, your body adjusting to the intrusion, as he started to move; first with slow, languid thrusts, until he was ploughing you into the mattress.

He hissed as your nails scratched down his back, clinging onto his shoulder-blades for dear life as his cock reached deeper – and deeper within your centre. Your eyes closed in pure, hot bliss, moans tumbling out of your mouth with each of his movements. His cock felt better than anything you’d ever experienced in your life – rivalled only by his mouth and fingers. His arms wrapped around your shoulders, holding you to him in a very intimate embrace. It was odd but not unwelcome, as you latched onto his neck to stifle your moans that were gradually growing in volume.

“Fucking shit,” He cursed, throwing his hips forwards into yours, jolting your body upwards at the movement. His lips caught yours in a sloppy kiss, as he felt his cock begin to twitch within your walls,” I’m gonna cum.”

“You wanna cum on my face?” You purred. He didn’t pause his thrusts, but your sultry tone caught him by surprise. Holy shit, he fucking loved you. His thumb pressed into your clit harshly, drawing another orgasm from you, your pussy gushing all over his dick. With a grunt, he pulled his shaft out from your core, fisting it back and forth quickly over your form. Your flushed face and wanton moans spurred him on, a string of curses tumbling from his lips as he reached his climax; hot white spurts of cum splashed across your chest, chin and hair.

You sighed a sweet moan, biting your lip in a futile attempt to stifle a grin,” That was hot.” He groaned as you swiped some of his cum from your chin onto your finger, licking it into your mouth.

“You are hot,” Kabal retorted, as he collapsed onto the mattress beside you, placing the pillow back in its rightful place.

“I’m gonna go clean this off,” You gestured to your sticky chest; he smiled proudly at his work. Kabal folded his arms behind his head, watching as you sauntered around the room with a slight limp, fetching a pack of baby-wipes from your bag to swipe away the sticky residue. Having done so, you slid in beside him; the lack of space wasn’t such a bad prospect now, as he pulled you closer, nose buried in your hair.

“You said I’ve grown on you,” You teased, playing with the crocodile tooth of his necklace with your thumb and forefinger. He hummed, cupping your smaller hand in his own, tracing your knuckles. His other hand drew shapes on your lower back, whiskey eyes softer than before – or maybe it was the light.

“That you have,” He replied simply,” I think you’re hot – you’re beautiful, smart, funny, and sometimes a pain in the ass – but that’s why I like you, Sweet Cheeks.”

[marvelstud10s]

Cupid’s Bullet | 02

Leading a life of mystery and quiet, she has everything under control in her impeccable life as an assassin. Except this one time.

Warnings: curses most likely, capturing, striking

A/N: hehe some feedback would be gr8 thanks :))) *endgame never happened here* ask to be in my taglist in my asks too

*can somebody find me a website where you can describe words you can’t think of ?? I saw a post about it but I can’t find it ??

3.2K words of complete shit writing

Chapter 2

“Holy shit,” Sam murmured through his comms, soaring through the sky, trying to locate his target. “She just, disappeared into thin fucking air, how’d you miss her Barnes?” Sam asked, disbelief in his voice. All he received was a grunt from the super soldier, waiting on the side of the highway for some new transportation, his motorcycle far from revivable.

Bucky watched the cars pass, the scene playing over and over in his head, trying to figure out one, how the girl managed to escape, and two, who she was talking to. The rest of the team didn’t know that she had some help, it wasn’t in the debriefing. “Guys,” Bucky spoke up with a raspy voice. “She was talking to somebody, like a partner,” he recalled slowly. “A car came out of nowhere, nobody inside, and opened the door for her, as if waiting,” he confessed. The rest of the team was quiet, going over this new piece of information. “Computer maybe?” Nat offered, driving in her fake delivery car to the highway. “That would make sense. Friday, figure out more about this woman. She’s more complicated than we thought,” he said, setting down the mechanical super suit on a random rooftop, not wanting to double task in the air.

“Tony, I don’t think we have the right idea about her, or any idea about her at all,” Steve finally said, looking throughout her apartment, trying to find something useful. “How so, Cap?” Tony asked, half distracted as he was shuffling through her files. “First off, her apartment is a little messy. Somebody wouldn’t leave a safe house a mess if they were on the run, but she has a list of people, names crossed off, which makes me question my first discovery. And two,” Steve bent over to pick up the little handheld box, turning it over to find his reflection staring at him. Weird place to put a mirror. “We didn’t even plant this. It was already outside her door. It doesn’t have an address, name, or anything. But she knew it would be for her. Should we open it?” He inquired. The team was silent, Tony letting out a huff at this new revelation. “Okay, back to the quinjet, we’re starting over on this case.” He concluded, turning Iron Man around, in the direction back to the ship.

Bucky was silent, feeling his long suppressed fear sneaking up behind him. This mission was too much for him, too soon. Bucky tried desperately to catch his breath, every breath he took in, seemingly escaping from his constricting lungs. Bucky clawed at his tactile suit, trying to get out of the trapping leather, whining at all the weightless guns and knives that seemed to suddenly weigh too much. Three months of therapy could never really save him from the thoughts that were already seeping from the cracks into his broken, but carefully placed together, facade. You did this. You failed this mission. Bucky shook his head, chest heaving, trying to block out the familiar thoughts. Bucky placed his hands on the side of his head, trying to follow what the therapist told him to do when he was feeling vulnerable. “Macy Jenkins, Ryder Quincy, Anthony Santos, Khalil Brown, Jeremy Seong, Maria Costa, Olive Brown, Joshua Finnegan,” he whispered. Bucky whispered more names, repeating them over and over in his head, slowly, but effectively, calming him down. As if on cue, Nat pulled up as he put his hands down, a small frown on his face. She jerked her head for him to get in, noting how off his body language was. Bucky closed the door carefully behind him, trying to remember his super soldier strength.

“You know, it wasn’t your fault, Bucky. She’s more advanced than we anticipated.” Nat spoke up into the silence. Bucky glanced over at her, shaking his head, not daring to open his mouth to spill his thoughts. “You’re skilled enough Bucky. We just weren’t prepared. You’re valuable to this team. You’re the one who managed to catch up to her, not us.” She said, not expecting a reaction, turning up the radio, tapping her fingers on the worn out leather of the steering wheel to a new Dua Lipa song. Bucky’s eyes shifted briefly to her face, a small smile forming. Nat always knew what to say, even if she was the most broken out of everyone else. Bucky played with a loose string of the seat, feeling like a little kid who just got told his pasta art was beautifully made. Even if he knew it wasn’t, he still had a small smile on his face.

Bucky could literally not frown harder if he tried. He could feel the strain on his face, the pull of his eyebrows, and the twitch of his right thumb on his thigh. The team sat in the debriefing room at the compound, going over the mission and files once again. “No, Friday didn’t find anything about her e-companion. And she couldn’t scan anything from inside the box, either. You guys got anything? Capsicle?” Tony asked, pointing his chewed pen at Steve, crossing his feet on top of the table and leaning back, unconsciously calling him by Steve’s nickname. Steve’s face fell just a tick, giving an annoyed pointed look to the famed superhero. “No, but I think the box would just give us answers we need. What do we know about her? That she shoots people but it doesn’t do anything to them? I don’t think we’re dealing with some bank robber type situation here, let’s just open the box to see what we’re dealing with.” He concluded, looking at the mysterious box placed carefully on the middle of the sleek table. Nobody said anything, silently agreeing to the Captain’s suggestion.

“Well then, let’s do it?” Sam said nervously, staring at the box with a little bit of fear. “Aw, is the pigeon scared?” Tony asked out of fake sympathy, pouting and smiling cockily, but sitting up quickly at the pen in his mouth blasting out ink from his over chewing. “Obviously no, squid. Stop putting stuff in ya mouth and maybe that wouldn’t happen,” he tsked. Tony wiped his face quickly, unknowingly making it worse, but nobody notified him, so he didn’t care. “Steve, open it,” Bruce spoke up out of the blue, crossing his arms a little tighter across his chest as he leaned farther back into the door frame. Everyone looked at Steve expectantly, waiting for him. Steve breathed in, refusing himself to let out the, “why me?”, bubbling in his chest, pushing down his scrawny and sickly past self, and bringing out the rebel’s bravery. Steve grabbed the box, taking the little knife from Tony’s offering hand, carefully cutting the colored cardboard. Steve put on a hard face, hoping to fool anyone into thinking that he wasn’t afraid of whatever was inside. Suddenly, the box shook, Steve quickly putting it, and the knife down, watching as it shook harder as the seconds passed. Everybody wheeled their chairs a bit farther back, watching in curiosity. The box suddenly stopped, a dead silence falling over the room. Nobody dared to breathe, watching as the box sat there. It seemed like almost an hour before a great boom, silent, but great, came from the box, the team quickly turning away and groaning at the bright light.

“I only open for the worthy,” came a booming voice. The light suddenly went away, and the box laid there, almost innocently, not a scratch on it’s exterior. The team started in disbelief. “Is this some kind of sick joke?” Sam asked angrily. “Where is that strange hunk of muscle,” Tony muttered, already trying to page him. “Wow, I knew Thor liked pranks, but this is a little much,” Bruce said, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. His heavy breathing fogging his glasses a bit. Everyone looked over in alarm, but seeing as Bruce’s breathing exercises calmed him down, it calmed them down a bit, too. Heavy footsteps suddenly walked into the room, a hearty voice following. “Hello, Midgardians! Needing my help once again, I see,” he smiled, biting into his stolen pop tart. Tony was a bit confused at how he arrived so fast, but quickly put that aside. Steve crossed his arms across his broad chest, giving him the famed ‘Cap America’ look, but adding a bit of a glare to it. Thor’s smile faltered, finally catching up to the mood in the atmosphere. “Am I in trouble?” He asked timidly, his personality not quite fitting with his stature. “What the hell is this?” Tony asked, rubbing a hand on his forehead, gesturing with his other hand the box. “Um, a box?” Thor responds carefully. Nat noticed his genuine confusion, along with Steve, Bucky and Bruce. “This is a dumb prank man,” Sam scolded, shaking his head, still oblivious to Thor’s innocence. “What prank? I haven’t been to Earth in months!” Thor defended, finishing his pop tart so he could focus on the accusation. “C’mon don’t lie, it literally said, “I only open for the worthy.”” Tony mocked, doing a terrible accent. “And that’s your trademark line, it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. And I am a genius, so,” Tony said, always remembering to add a little compliment for himself. Steve took in Thor’s body language, how he was gesturing wildly, as he tried to explain how he had nothing to do with it. “You really didn’t know about it, did you?” He asked the God. Thor shook his head frantically.

The team looked at the box with newfound attention, feeling something wrong in the pit of their stomachs. “You said a voice? Open it again, I want to hear it.” Thor said, now caught up with this mystery. Steve took the box and cut it open again, and it shook again, seemingly harder, and the blast seemed brighter than before. “I only open for the worthy.” It said again, maybe even louder, as if trying to drill it into their memories. Thor looked on with a confused, but shocked face. “Where did you get this.” He said, pointing a finger at the box. Steve took a step back from it. “From a mission. Why,” he demanded, breathing a little faster. “I need everything on that mission, now.” Thor said, taking a step back as well.

Steve hesitated. “The mission was about a target who was seen briefly, shooting a gun at two civilians at a cafe, but it never hurt them. She was spotted carrying a red gun, in a black bag, and was followed back to her apartment after months of trying to get to her. She was too stealthy for us to follow her immediately. She got away, but this box was left outside her door.” Steve explained. Thor slowly shook his head, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “Yeah, no, you need to find her, and get her here, I don’t think this is a small ordeal.” Thor informed the team. Tony sat up. “But what’s in the dang box?” He asked, throwing his hands on the table. Thor shifted his stare to him. “That’s the thing. I don’t know what it is, but what I do know, is that it’s from Asgard, and that it’s dangerous. Everything that’s dangerous we put that whole “worthy” line. It gives that sort of ‘don’t mess with us’ vibe, you know, it’s kind of our thing.” He huffed a bit of a light laugh, but it quickly left. Tony gave him a blank stare, opening and closing his mouth at his loss of words. “So, let me get this straight. You don’t know what it is, even if it was from your own home planet. Can’t you tell from the packaging?” Tony asked, his frustration showing. “Well I suppose you don’t know every single box on your home planet, now do you?” Thor asked with a bit of attitude. Tony recoiled, a single hand to his chest. “Our planet isn’t one fucking city!” Tony exclaimed, throwing his hands up. Thor glared, opening up his mouth as if to say something, but glanced over at the box once again.

“There is something a bit familiar about the packaging, actually.” Thor murmured under his breath, but a murmur for him was regular volume for everyone else. “What is it, Thor?” Natasha asked, leaning forwards towards the God. Thor never ripped his gaze from the package, leaning forward, he grabbed the box and turned it over, finding a mirror on the bottom, a carved, decorated silver border outlining it, a single carved apple at the bottom, and two carved doves around it. Thor gasped through his nose, putting it down quickly and moving back to his original spot. “That mirror,” Thor said. “Their from somewhere different than mine. Not my- our, universe,” He spoke quietly. Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “So she’s from a different universe?” Steve asked. Thor shook his head. “I’m not sure. But this box is. Those doves, that apple, that mirror, their a representation of Aphrodite, I’m not sure if you’ve all heard of her, but she isn’t Norse. She’s from Greek Mythology.” He explained. Tony snorted. “Aphrodite is not real, you are, Norse is real, Greek is not, end of story. Maybe she just likes birds, fruit, and staring at herself. I mean who doesn’t like staring at themselves, I mean, except for Sam.” Tony smirked. “You’d have to actually be visually appealing. Sorry to break it to ya,” Tony insulted, shrugging his shoulders. Sam shook his head. “Menace,” He whispered under his breath. Tony winked.

“Okay, guys, focus. You’re saying that Greek Mythology is real? Different mythologies can correlate with others?” Nat asked, looking up at Thor. “I didn’t even know that until now,” He confessed. “I need to take this to my father.” He said, grabbing the box. “I’m going with you,” Steve said, already walking in front of the God. “Me too, I’ve been there before, plus I don’t really want to be here with Tony,” Bruce whispered. “I don’t have to be a God or a super-soldier to have heard that Banner,” Tony said, standing up. Bruce smiled apologetically. “Okay, So, I’m going to go with Thor, Steve and Bruce, while Bucky, Sam and Tony are going to stay here?” Nat confirmed, standing up. “Yeah, I’m gonna get Lang and the Pym’s here. Could use some more brains here.” Tony sighed, already ordering Friday to contact the three. Nat nodded, turning around with the rest of her team to get suited up.

Bucky leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, not knowing what to do. Tech really wasn’t his thing, obviously. Back in the day, he was actually very gifted intellectually, but it wasn’t really useful to know advanced mathematics in the 21st century. The five great minds, Janet Van Dyne, Hank Pym, Hope Pym, Scott Lang (who gave a very long handshake and a rather long speech about his vibranium arm), and of course, Stark sat a few tables away, talking. Sam sat along with Bucky, giving out a huff as he traced patterns into the lab counters, tapping his foot on the floor in impatience. The five discussed in hushed whispers, Tony explaining the situatuion. “What?!” comes an angry exclaim. The two veterans look up in surprise to see The oldest Pym going up to Tony’s face. “You made us fly all the way across the country because your stubborn ass couldn’t finish a small mission?! What a genius you are!” He yelled into his face, poking his pointer finger into his reactor. “Whoa, relax, will ya? This is extraterrestrial, I promise. Now can we just gather our horses, please?” Tony asked, raising an eyebrow and both his hands in defense.

Hank looked at him up and down, but was eventually backed away by Janet. Sam breathed a laugh, finally finding some entertainment. Tony turned and glared at the two. “Hey bird brain, Tin Man, would you two make yourselves useful and look back at the footage? We haven’t had the chance to yet. Thanks, too sweet, really.” Tony said, already turning back around. Sam rolled his eyes as Bucky got up as well, happy to at least be doing something.

The ride towards Asgard was silent, as Nat and Steve never rode to another planet, let alone outer space. Nat held her breath, then let it out slowly, but it came out shakier then she expected. Bruce smiled softly at her. “Nervous?” He asked, letting out a chuckle. “Well excuse me, but outer space really isn’t my forte.” She smiled back bashfully. Steve watched the two with a knowing smile, a twinge of sadness in his chest, a sudden longing for a feisty British brunette suddenly overcoming him. Steve averted his gaze to Thor instead, choosing not to dwell in the past. “Does your father know about the different type of mythologies existing too?” Steve asked him, the silent beeping of autopilot coming as calming to the hero. “I’m not sure, it would be like having duplicates of your own people, but not looking like you. Like there was another Captain America, except he was,” Thor paused, trying to find the right words. “Less-american-y.” He smiled, going back to gazing out the window. Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asked, looking at Nat and Bruce for support, who turned to listen to the conversation. Bruce looked away, but Nat smiled. “Well, for starters, you’re literally a walking version of patriotism.” She explained, gesturing to his whole body. Steve scoffed in disbelief and was about to fire back when the quinjet came to a sudden halt, making the four hurdle forward, but slowly land. “Can this ship even land on water?” Nat asked, watching as is landed near the walkway leading to Asgard. A broad shouldered man stood at the end, watching the jet. A walkway landed, letting the four walk down the ramp to the rainbow walkway. Thor jogged ahead, pulling the mysterious man into a brief hug.

“Heimdall! It’s so good to see you old friend,” Thor greeted, clapping him on the back. Heimdall smiled at him, turning his head to see the others. “Natalia Romanoff, Steven Rogers, welcome. Bruce Banner, a pleasure to have you again.” He winked at the latter. Bruce nodded, almost going into a bow, but remembering his mistake with Rhodes. “How do you know our names?” Steve asked, looking at him almost suspiciously. Heimdall politely smiled, knowing of the Captain’s hesitance. “I’m Heimdall. How could I not?” He raised an eyebrow playfully. Steve sat in embarrassment, letting the two Asgardians laugh at the foreigners expense. “Well, I have something I need to do. I’ll see you later, friend.” Thor said, giving him another hug. Heimdall nodded, already knowing what they needed to do. Heimdall turned, and with a goodbye, headed to the Bi frost.

“Okay team, how are we getting there? Carry one of you at a time?” He asked, throwing his hammer into the air and catching it with ease. Steve shifted his weight uncomfortably. “I’m okay,” he verified, not trusting the speed of the hammer. “Well, guess you’re walking Steve,” Nat said, already volunteering to go first. Steve gave her a confused look, looking at Bruce who just shrugged, who was waiting to go next. And with a burst of wind in Banner and Roger’s faces, the two were gone. “Wow, that’s a little um, fast,” Bruce said nervously. “Walk with me,” Steve suggested, nodding his head in the direction the assassin and God went, already heading on his way to the large castle. Bruce hurried to catch up to his long strides, already dreading the long walk.

Yet another A/N: i fucking hate this

but go in my asks to be in a taglist and/or to request a fic !

[thoughtfulwaffles]

Started With A Text

>>Part One<<

MrBeast x Reader fic

Should I make this into a series or keep it a one shot thingy?

-

The flight to North Carolina was long. It was weird being in a different state than the one you grew up in. You didn't travel much so seeing how other states run things excited you. You were scared. After all you were flying to meet a complete stranger you've only talked to a few times. He did seem friendly from the times you have talked to him and from the videos you've watched. He hasn't done anything that makes him jump out at you or anything but you were in it for the money.

As you get off the plane you notice Garrett, a guy from Jimmy's videos. He was holding a sign that had your name on it, dressed in a nice suit. You wondered why Jimmy got someone to pick you up considering the unique and kinda embarrassing situation he was in. 

You shyly walk up to him as he asked, "Are you Y/N?" 

You nod politely. The man turned around and walked slowly through the crowd of people. He lead you to a black car after picking up your luggage. There was no words spoken on the ride to wherever Jimmy lived. 

The car stopped in front of a suburban home. Garrett got out and opened the door for you like a chauffeur You grabbed your backpack and stepped out of the car. The house was one story, tan brown with white trimmings. 

"You may head inside. I'll grab your luggage and put the in the garage. Jimmy will tell you the rest."

Nodding, you headed for the front door. You knocked, nerves filling up your stomach. You wondered if it was appropriate to just walk in. Your anxiety wouldn't let you but it was something to think about. The door opened a few moments later, revealing a worked up Jimmy. He looked neater in person and was way taller then you imagined. His hair was brushed to the side and his cheeks were blushed as if he had been running a mile. He wore his famous investor shirt along with grey shorts. His hand stayed on the door, blocking you from entering. "Wow." He whispered under his breath.

Tilting your head to the side, you furrowed your eyebrows. "Excuse me?" You said as politely as possible. The butterflies were still chewing at your stomach but you kept your confidence.

"Uh..." Jimmy ran a hand through is brown hair. "Come in. Come in." He moved away from the door to let you in. "Um... we can sit and talk or... uh... have a tour of the house." 

"Show me round." You say flirtatiously. You were getting paid to do this so do what the man wants. You suppressed the rolling of your stomach and started to play with your hair.

The tall man blushed harder. "O...okay." He managed to muster out. Jimmy shuffled over to the left where the kitchen was. "This is the kitchen as you can tell. " He spun around with his arms open.

"Cool, cool." 

"Uh... yeah." Jimmy smiled as he looked at the ground. You could tell he was getting flustered being around you. You noticed he put a hand in his pocket to hide his very noticeable boner. "Do you want to see your room?" He asked, trying to get the focus off of his boner.

Smirking, you nod.

Jimmy hurriedly walked to the right where a hallway was. He passed two white doors before he stopped at the second door on the right. He looked back at you before twisting the nob. The room was almost empty except for a queen sized bed and a small desk. A lamp was placed next to the bed. You walked passed him to see how large the room was. It was fairly medium sized room, nothing too special. Jimmy entered the room behind you, shutting the door behind him.

"This is a lot larger then my old room." 

Jimmy inhaled sharply. You could tell he was refraining from saying a dirty joke. You sat on the bed to test out the mattress. You bounced a little, shocked by how comfortable it was. "Wow."

"Yeah, Wow." Jimmy was looking at you with desperate eyes. He followed your every move, taking in every inch of you. It almost looked like he was drooling. "You like it? I didn't know what to get you so I settle for the middle. If you don't like it we can get you another one. He walked slowly towards you, his height intimidating.

"Let's test it out." You gently place a hand on the man's thigh. You could tell he was tenting in his pants. His breath hitched as you touched him.

You started to move your hand slowly upward. You heard the man whisper fuck to himself as he closed his eyes in pleasure. You inched closer to him, kissing his neck finding the sensitive parts. The words that slipped out of his mouth grew louder as you cup his boner, massaging the very hard piece of flesh through his pants. Jimmy exhaled in a moan. You kiss up his neck and to his ear. "How do you like it love?" 

"You fine with being a sub? I have thought of so many dirty things i'd do to you." Jimmy's voice was uneven but you could hear the desperation.

"Have me how you want me."

Suddenly you could feel Jimmy's hands on your waist, pushing you to lay down on the light brown sheets. You comply, letting the man who is paying you way too much take control. He crawled on top of you, kissing exposed skin as he made his way up. When he reached your face he hesitantly went for a kiss. It seemed he was second guessing yourself so you reached up and grabbed his face. Pulling him into a kiss, his slightly tough lips moved against yours. He started to press himself against you, his member hard against your thigh. He moaned in your ear, shivers going down your spine at the sweet sound the man made. You felt his hand go up your side and make its way to your breast. He pulled away form your lips as his breath hitched. His excitement must be getting to him. His movements grew faster.

"You sure you're okay with this?" Jimmy asked as he hooked a finger in the waist band of your pants. 

"Yes baby." 

Hooking his hands in your waist band, Jimmy pulled your pants down. He gazed at you black underwear, his dick twitching in anticipation. As his hands went up your side again they went under your shirt. You felt exposed as Jimmy took you in. He struggled to take his pants and shirt off. His pale skin rubbed against yours as he hovered over you. He kissed your neck as he went back to rutting against you. You grew impatient but wouldn't say anything. Jimmy reached up and grabbed your wrist forcefully. He smiled as a little gasp left your lips. 

He kissed you with a want you couldn't describe. His confidence was in the skies now. He toughed at your lips with his teeth, his dick jumping. He removed his hands from yours to unhook your bra with ease. He then kissed your chest, making his way to your panties. He slowly peeled them off with his teeth. When they got to your knees, he ripped them off along with his boxers.

He stood on his knees in front of you, taking in ll of you once again. "Fuck kitten." 

If you were feeling exposed earlier, now was definitely worse. It did help that you were staring at Jimmy's 7 inch dick. After the shock of physically seeing this person, you observe the rest of his body. He didn't have much hair on his milky skin, just the hair that grew on his face. He wasn't muscular but wasn't thin. He was in the middle. He looked human.

Jimmy placed a hand on your inner thigh, feeling every inch of your skin before he positioned himself. He grazed the tip of his dick on your clit, exhaling as he did so. "I can't wait much longer kitten. Are you sure you want this?"

"Yes love." He rutted against your lips in an attempt to wet the area more. Jimmy wanted you so badly but refrained to not hurt or scare you. "Please." You whisper in his ear.

He moaned as he guided the tip of his dick into you. You could tell he wanted to go faster but he didn't. He entered you slowly, careful not to hurt you. You let out a light moan as you feel his inches crawling into you. 

"Kitten?"

"Yes?"

"I can do... rough... things right?"

You smiled. Never has anyone been so concerned for you during sex. You appreciated the fact that he asked for consent so many times. You found it very charming. "What else are you paying me for?" You smirk.

You felt strong hands grab your chin shutting you up. "Be good little kitten, will you?" The man growled.

You whimpered in pleasure as Jimmy rammed himself into you harder and harder. His need to catch his high was very evident in his movements. Jimmy removed his hands from your neck to hold your hands above your head. He moaned in your mouth as he slowed down, teasing himself. "Tell me how badly you need me."

You gasp. "Baby... I want you so badly. Please baby." You were confident in your moans, since you did do this for a living. 

Jimmy almost halted his movement completely. "What was that kitten?" He let go of your hands to choke you. You could feel his breath on your ear, exciting you. 

"Please baby." You whimper out. "I... I need you. So fucking badly. Please. I want you to fuck me."

"Fuck you how?" He put a little more pressure on your throat.

You gasp loudly as the man thrusted into you with force just once. "I want you to fuck me how you've always wanted to fuck me. Like all those times you've wished your hands were mine."

"Fuck." Jimmy whispered to himself. He increased his speed, his need to finish controlling him. He placed his head in the crook of your neck, letting out little gasps of air. He placed a hand on your hip, thrusting faster and more erratic. You moan and enjoy ever bit of Jimmy.

"Please baby."

"Ah fuck kitten. I'm close." You could feel his dick hardening as he pounded into you. 

You moaned and moaned as Jimmy tried to reach his high. You tugged on his hair and said, "Cum for me baby." 

A few moments later Jimmy pulled out of you and came all over your stomach. His eyes remained closed in pleasure and his cheeks flushed. He stayed above you, happy in his bliss. His chest rose rapidly, trying to catch his breath.

"Holy fuck." He gasped. "You don't know how long I've been waiting to do that."

[theepicwaffleman12]

Under the Waterfall

So this is a Bumbleby lemon. My first lemon, actually. (Well, really, it’s more of a lime.) If you’re not a fan of that, keep scrolling. That’s all you gotta do.

For the rest of ye, here, have a shower fluff. I hope you enjoy. Let me know how I fucked up and I’ll do my best to improve for next time!

(Oh, and of course I’m gonna be writing WhiteRose stuff too, eventually. Did you honestly expect me not to? :P)

She stood under the waterfall, the droplets cascading on her body and rolling off with gentle splashes. She stood, thinking, under the rain of an Atlas shower.

It had been quite the past few days.

“Oh.”

He fell. The sickening crunch heard later didn’t ease matters, only made her mind worse. Then there was Yang, kneeling beside her, holding her close, keeping her calm.

“I know you won’t.”

She knew. She knew that she wouldn’t leave. They remained there for quite some time, just holding each other, promises restored and faith returned.

But what if she thinks I’ll leave again? Did she think I was never going to come back? What about us now? We’re closer than we ever were, but how long until that comes crashing down? How much happiness do I have to lose?

What if sh-

“Hey.”

That voice. Blake dragged herself from out of her mind, covered herself and turned around, and there was Yang standing in the entryway of the shower, a towel in her robotic hand. She gave Blake a glance from head to toe, blushed slightly, but still carried that same confidence that Blake knew and admired for so long.

“Room for one more?” asked the blonde as Blake’s cheeks dusted a light pinkish-red. “You seemed a bit down recently, even more so than usual. Maybe this’ll be good for both of us,” Yang explained. Blake slowly smiled and gave a nod.

“Now turn around.”

“Wait, why?” Blake shot a quizzical look at Yang as she set down the towel and popped off her arm.

“So you get a surprise,” said Yang almost nonchalantly, before adding with a sensual growl, “and I get to have a good look at that Bellabooty.” Blake rolled her eyes at the nickname she hadn’t heard in so long, but did as she was told, stifling a laugh. The rustle of clothes landing on the floor sounded behind her, followed by the wet footsteps of bare feet.

“Alright, you can turn around,” said Yang, with a surprising touch of embarrassment and shyness. Blake took a deep breath and turned around.

The very first words out of her mouth were, “Holy shit.”

Yang’s body was... well, there wasn’t a word that could describe it perfectly. Her legs were muscular, long and smooth, leading up to a region barely explored, her stomach was lined with a pack of abs that would possibly make Sun jealous, and finally, her breasts.

Dear gods, were they something.

Now, Blake was no stranger to human anatomy. She carried the same parts as everyone else, with the addition of two extra ears placed on her head. But somehow Yang’s chest made Blake’s mind seem like she was seeing breasts for the very first time. She stared at the large mounds, topped with dark pink areolas and peaked with small pointed nipples.

Yang was absolutely aware of Blake’s gaze on her chest and waved a hand in front of it, leading Blake’s eyes up to her own. “Hey. I’m up here, y’know,” grinned Yang with a mischievous look in her eyes, adding, “Not that I don’t mind you staring at my boobs, but I’m up here.”

“S-sorry, they’re just... Wow.” Blake glanced around shyly and rubbed the back of her head but Yang shook her own head with a warm smile.

“Don’t go dismissing your own body, there, Belladonna. Your breasts are fine too, your stomach is nice and lean, and I’ve already begun to know your ass better,” Yang smirked as her own cheeks dusted pink. Now both girls were blushing under the water in probably the most awkward scenario they’d ever been in.

They just stood there for a few minutes before Blake finally decided, screw this, and grabbed the nearest bar of soap. “Should we wash each other?” asked the Faunus as yellow eyes bashfully stared into lilac. Yang paused momentarily but her eyes betrayed her as her head gave a nod that seemed all too eager.

Blake rubbed her hands in the soap. “Where shall I start?”

“Legs,” said Yang as she pointed to the area in question before rubbing shampoo in her golden locks and washing her hair.

So Blake began at her legs, moving her hands up and down, very gently. Her hands danced up Yang’s curves, passing by a certain area on purpose before arriving at Yang’s belly. She traced her soap-covered fingers over each of the abs that stood strong like stones on the skin before reaching around and rubbing her back and just grazing Yang’s butt. She’d get that later, if she was allowed. She stroked Yang’s arms, gave her hands a quick squeeze before heading towards the most dangerous area.

Yang knew exactly what Blake was doing and while she was nervous at Blake touching her chest, she was also incredibly excited. Bad brain, she thought to herself. It’s just two girls washing each other who may or may not be a thing. Nothing out of the ordinary there.

Blake finally lowered a hand onto one of the mounds as Yang’s breath hitched. Blake immediately stopped. “You okay?” she asked with a concerned tone as Yang nodded and shot a comforting wink at her. The hand went back and began to move in circles. Both girls’ faces were red as Ruby’s cloak, and the mood in the room was beginning to escalate faster than they anticipated. The other hand found its way to the other breast and repeated the motion while Yang’s mind shot into pleasure. Her mouth betrayed her body as she let out a quiet moan of relief.

Blake chuckled at this and, gaining more confidence, began to put more effort into the circles. Yang’s breath hitched more and more, her eyes squeezed shut and her legs began to twitch. Her moans became more drawn out. Finally, Blake let go and both girls let out a very happy exhale.

“How’d you even manage to do that?” asked Yang. “You don’t seem like the kind of person who has experience with this stuff.”

“I don’t,” admitted Blake. “But you can learn something from those novels.”

Oh, right. Yang mentally facepalmed as she took the bar of soap from Blake, rubbed her hand in it (which was harder than it looked), and wickedly grinned.

“Please don’t tell me you’re starting where I think you’re going to start,” Blake grumbled as Yang gave a completely fake innocent nod, motioning for Blake to turn around. “Fine, fine, just be gentle with it,” said Blake, quietly muttering “Why the hell not?” under her breath.

Yang’s hand seized the two cheeks and begun to squeeze like she was a kid who had just gotten access to a new toy. Blake let out a “Eep!” before almost shouting, “I said gently!” She could hear Yang stick out her tongue playfully but her gropes eased to gentle strokes. “Sorry, got caught up in the moment,” admitted Yang. “I didn’t think I’d go that fast.”

“It’s fine, it- Ooh! That feels nice,” sighed Blake as Yang’s hand gently caressed her butt before moving up to her breasts and took hold one of them from behind, using the same circular motions Blake had used. Blake’s moans become more pleasure-filled and longer. Yang’s hand trailed down Blake’s stomach, legs, back up to her rear and gave it yet another squeeze before reaching her arms and finally setting at her hands. 

Both girls’ hands intertwined as they held each other, and for a while it was just the two of them, fully bare as the water continued to cascade down.

It was Yang who woke from the trance first and exhaled. “Well, I for one feel a lot bett- Oh, you sly kitten.” Yang shook her head as her brain finally registered Blake, now facing her, as her hands squeezed Yang’s rear. “So you like my butt as much as I like yours, eh?” asked the blonde brawler with a flirtatious tone to her voice. A simple “Mm-hm,” came from Blake as she continued her groping.

Completely lost in the moment, Yang leaned down towards Blake. To her surprise, Blake leaned up towards her. Their mouths were inches apart, almost touching. “You fine with this?” whispered Blake. Yang smiled before whispering back a confident “Hell yes.” 

Their lips finally collided.

Fireworks exploded.

Blake’s eyes were full of wonder when she pulled back, Yang’s full of pure joy. “I keep saying this, but... wow,” Blake sighed, her voice breathless yet full of love and passion. Yang nodded. “Yeah. Wow.”

A few seconds went by before Yang asked the question that lingered in both of their heads: “So, are we a thing now?”

“I think so,” answered Blake, before teasingly asking, “Is that gonna be a problem?”

“Fuck no,” Yang swore before apologizing and adding, “I’ve actually sort of liked you since Beacon. I think it was at the dance when I realized how I felt, with you and I without a care in the world, just having fun together. I was actually hoping to express myself after the tournament was over, but we know how that went and... I just shut down after you ran. I didn’t think you’d even come back, that’s how depressed I was.”

Blake nodded. “Me either, honestly. I didn’t know how you’d react, whether you’d want me back or not.” Yang took a hold of Blake’s face and gently stroked her cheek, wordlessly saying all that needed to be said. Blake’s mouth warmly twisted upwards in response. 

“Now, can you let go of my ass?” asked Yang playfully.

“Why don’t you make me, then?” replied Blake, her smile growing wicked, shooting a wink of her own at Yang, who blushed again.

“I’m supposed to be making you feel flustered, not the other way around!” laughed Yang before she moved her own hand to squeeze Blake’s rear quickly before she managed to break free of the Faunus’ grip and swayed her hips on the way out for emphasis. She could practically hear Blake’s mouth drop open as she bent down to pick up the towel before she turned back around. “Someday, I’ll get to watch you do that,” teased Yang. “I’ll see you outside, ‘kay?”

“Yeah...” sighed Blake, blowing a kiss to her before she realized what she had done. Yang, playing along, pretended to catch it and winked at her before wrapping the towel around her and then she was gone.

Blake turned the shower off, wrapping her body in her own towel as her mind raced with joy, ecstasy and love all at the same time.

Gods be damned, that woman. I love her, thought Blake.

I love her.

And she loves me right back.

[theonceoverthinker]

OUAT Rewatch 4X14 - Enter the Dragon

Sorry for all the delays with these reviews! I’ve really been DRAGON my feet through this whole season, haven’t I? 

...You don’t come here for smart puns, Regina! XD

Anyway, there’s a nice juicy review under the cut!

Main Takeaways

Past

I love how this plays as the evil version of every “young person melts the heart of older person and convinces them to go back to doing what they love” story! While it’s not a parody -- and is in fact played deadly straight -- it’s funny as hell to watch because of that!

It’s kind of weird seeing such vague mentions of Mal’s backstory. All throughout the episode, we hear clues, but are never given anything concrete. I wonder when or even if we ever would’ve gotten a backstory for Mal and Briar Rose.

Present

Wow, I gotta say, considering how DESTROYED Mal was by what Snowing did to her kid, stealing another kid is just horrible (The fact that he’s turned back into August and she may or may not have known that is irrelevant for me since she stealing a son from his father at the end of the day) ! I don’t know if it’s exactly poorly written or not -- a case of extremism turning her into what she hates or mishandling a character who is supposed to be more balanced between being evil and sympathetic. I guess it’s up to interpretation, but given that the there doesn’t get to be a reaction from Marco to Maleficent over the fact considering how big of a deal it is that she reverted a little boy back into being a grown man, I feel forced to say the latter.

This also applies to Regina too, ESPECIALLY considering her conversations with Marco in the last episode and this is more of a problem than I realized. She’s stealing a child, putting him up against three villains, AND disposing any direct means of contact between herself and her backup. And the fact that Rumple reverts him into being August at the end of the episode changes nothing here because that wasn’t an anticipated move. It’s even more distracting given the gravitas of the moment where Emma and Regina try to figure out whether or not to steal him in the first place. Regina says she’s going to protect him and pull out if he’s in danger, but what does she think they’re going to do to him if not threaten his life? Even just the emotional duress of those kind of threats is crazy to do to a kid. And then to drop her phone so he can’t even be tracked? It’s played as this necessary evil, but is never given the payoff to back up what a horrible and reckless thing this was to do. They STOLE his childhood -- what was essentially his happy ending -- and that has to be answered for by ALL involved parties: Maleficent, Regina, and Emma too for ultimately agreeing to this.

This segment has a really interesting theme of not being overly insistent on complete control. Throughout it, Regina insists to her friends that she can handle the Queens of Darkness. Even as the stakes raise, she makes risky and riskier decisions that she says she can manage. This culminates in a horribly risky decision (See above) that, in her insistence in keeping control over the situation and her sureness that she’s right, has Regina abandon her means of getting backup. And this all ends with Regina, forced by her own hand, to relinquish control to Rumple. I think that this is an important lesson for Regina to learn, and while I didn’t like the big decision that she had to make for lack of a proper fallout (I’ll actually discuss in a bit why I choose this episode to take the issue with it), I think the rest of the story is good!

Stream of Consciousness

-Regina, you trying to KILL ME with the cut of that shirt?! Because it is working!

-Damn, Regina is AMAZING at acting evil! XD

-HOW THE FUCK DID YOU CRUSH GLASS?! ARE YOU THE FUCKING HULK? XD

-I love how Regina looks between Mal’s castle and her book like “I’m gonna get my favorite author to sign my book!”

-Wouldn’t someone just win “Don’t Be a Hero” by only saving themselves?

-I love how there were freakin’ BETS on the game! XD

-We got another Henry and Belle scene!!! Tbh, I wish there was a bit more substance here too. Belle ADORES books and this is literally a mystery surrounding a book! Why couldn’t she give him some advice on maybe where to look or just talk about the nature of books! You have two book fans sharing a scene! Why not use that?

-I would KILL to know how Regina’s night of drinking with the Queens of Darkness went! Like, they drank a whole bar! XD

-To be fair, Emma, Regina’s probably not reaching out because she’s hungover as FUCK after DRINKING A WHOLE BAR! XD

-MAL, DRUNK AS FUCK, SINGED A COP CAR! XD WHERE ARE FICS OF THIS! THIS IS THE TRUE SEQUEL TO “THE HANGOVER!” XD

-”Some drinking.” SOME DRINKING? YOU DRANK AND ENTIRE BAR! XD

-I like how Regina’s “pathetic” flame was more of a matter of nervousness than inexperience. It shows that Regina’s learned a lot during her tenure with Rumple while still having a lot of space to grow.

-Maleficent is introduced as a druggie! She literally stabs herself with something that “takes the edge off!” XD

-”You need to remember who you are.” “That Maleficent had a foul temper, and if you insulted her, she’d turn into a dragon and eat your flesh.” Holy hell! My eyes are filled with hearts!

-”Where the hell have you been all night?” I WOULD LOVE TO KNOW THAT AS WELL!

-NOW WHAT KIND OF CRAZINESS HAPPENED IN THE VAULT?! XD

-To be fair, Emma, Regina’s been ROCKING this undercover mission so far.

-This episode is full of sexy, badass people, but this cake is the sexiest thing of all!

-”Well, look at which two survivors found a dinghy together.” ...Rumple, HOW ARE YOU SO BAD AT BEING KILLIAN? IT’S NOT ESPECIALLY HARD AND YET YOU SOMEHOW FAILED AT IT! It’s like trying to pet a puppy and instead doing a handstand! XD

-I love how Storybrooke can appear on a GPS system! Is someone in town just a really good techie or is Google our new God? XD

-”The only magical thing you’ll find here is duct tape.” Accurate! XD

-”You didn’t ask your questions more forcefully.” Oh trust me, she did. It was scary.

-”One little snafu?” YOU WOULD HAVE TO STEAL A CHILD!

-”Break some rules.” YOU ARE STEALING A CHILD!

-A Pirate’s Oath! XD What the hell? Someone’s just looking to cop a feel!

-I love the fact that it is 100% canon that Regina rode on the back of a dragon. Maleficent gave her the best piggyback ride in the UNIVERSE!

-Wait: GOLD HAS A CABIN?

Favorite Dynamic

Rump-illian and Belle. I absolutely love Rump-illian and Belle’s subplot here. Rumple, for better or worse, knows Belle and is exactly slippery enough to forge a story to get the dagger back for himself but also not infallible as to still fail to  discuss things he wasn’t privy to. Major props have to go to Colin. He’s playing Rumple playing Killian and that is AMAZING! His lines and delivery are just awkward enough to capture Rumple’s failure to perfectly capture Killian, but they’re close enough that they could fool someone who’s just getting to be close with Killian like Belle. He’s always a little off center in how he conducts himself, making the reveal something that could feasibly be guessed but also surprise everyone! And the transitions -- the one at the docks the one as he walks into the pawnshop, and the one outside the pawnshop are done so well as to make the whole subplot even better!

Writer

David Goodman and Jerome Schwartz are in charge of today’s episode! So far, they’ve had a perfect season! But...well… Look. This episode isn't bad, but I do wish the present segment had some more polish. Considering that the three people involved in that final decision are all mothers and to not do more with that idea is really distracting in hindsight.

Rating

8/10. I’m torn about whether or not I should punish this episode for what goes down with Pinocchio. This episode is more setup in that regard than payoff and it’s not bad setup. But at the same time, I do have to ask myself if that payoff was ever going to happen and if it wasn’t, then the setup of something that upon inspection is so fucked up. And I do think that the payoff wasn’t intended to come up -- they had to know -- and so I do find fault with this episode for executing this idea in such an irresponsible way. Otherwise though, the storytelling is really good. Everything makes sense, the story’s engaging, the pacing works, the characters are for the most part in line, and the theme of the past segment lines up in a way that’s subtle, yet effective.

Flip My Ship - The Home of All Things “Shippy Goodness”

DRAGON QUEEN - This is my JAM! Look at Regina’s face as Mal enters the room. That is the face of a woman realizing “I am gay for LIFE!” And in the present, could these two flirt any MORE?! <3 Just look at the aspirin scene! Mal and Regina are both letting their guard down (Regina’s being more of a casual spitfire, Mal’s not wearing the jacket and is giving a bit more info), Mal’s helping Regina out a bit, there’s candles everywhere, and there’s a touch of loose tension in the room. It’s enough to make the moment pretty sexy. ALSO, they go on a mission alone and the presentation to it plays out exactly like an impromptu date! This is the BEST! I just love how Regina smiles for Mal. It’s big, but natural and just kind of happy!

Swan Queen - Dude! Emma is so worried about Regina! That panic in her voice is CRAZY and her dedication to having Regina’s back and protecting her really shows how much she cares for Regina! This as some of their best shippy moments by the sheer amount of concern Emma has for her!

Captain Swan - While it doesn’t work exactly, Killian does a really good job assuring Emma that things with Regina will be okay.

Mal/Briar Rose - “What happened to you?” “A Rose. A Briar Rose.” Mal says that line in the same way someone talks about someone who they had a bad breakup with!

-----

Hi!!! Thanks for reading and shout outs to the fine folks at @watchingfairytales and to the lovely @daensarah! See you all next time!

Season 4 Total (121/230)

Writer Scores: Adam and Eddy: (34/60) Jane Espenson: (20/40) David Goodman and Jerome Schwartz: (38/50) Andrew Chambliss: (22/50) Dana Horgan: (6/30) Kalinda Vazquez: (22/40) Scott Nimerfro: (14/30) Tze Chun (8/20)

Operation Rewatch Archives

[avecorviidae]

Fic: pretty little head

Fandom: Mob Psycho 100 Rating: E Relationship(s): Kageyama Ritsu/Suzuki Shou Word Count: 2780

Ao3 Link

Ritsu isn’t entirely sure how he’s ended up in this situation.

Well, no, that’s a lie, he knows exactly how he’s ended up in this situation: through a combination of his own stubborn pride, and the fact that he keeps forgetting Shou has no concept of personal space.

To be fair, he had exhausted just about every other source of help he could think of. His parents had never taken English beyond a basic level, and Mob had just recommended him to Reigen, which, well, no. Besides, based on past experiences, he would’ve just pulled up Google Translate anyways. Hanazawa had offered to tutor Ritsu himself, and he might’ve taken him up on it, but it was pronunciation that he needed help with, and Hanazawa Teruki’s spoken English was nigh indecipherable.

Somehow, Youtube and the rest of the internet had proven fruitless, and more often than not, overly distracting. So, the only one left to ask was Shou, who was fluent in English and almost painfully eager to help.

(In retrospect, he could’ve asked one of his actual teachers for help, but hey, he still had his pride.) His parents were working late, and Mob was still out on work with Reigen, so they’d ended up sitting in the living room, books lying open around them like the aftermath of a library in a typhoon. Somehow, somehow, they’ve moved from sitting next to each other on the couch, to lying on the floor, to Ritsu being half in Shou’s lap, back pressed to his chest and sitting in the crook of his crossed legs. Shou has his chin hooked over his shoulder, and he’s reading the book open on Ritsu’s lap with a voice so casual, Ritsu could’ve fooled himself into thinking they were just sitting across from each other at a table.

“I reached for the handle,” Shou read smoothly, tracing the sentence on the page with a finger. Ritsu reread it a few times, trying to commit the way Shou’s tongue had rolled over the words to memory. “Right… ‘I… rea… ched fo-r…’ uh,” “For the handle,” Shou says, stressing the vowels, and Ritsu can actually feel his shoulder vibrating with Shou’s voice, which is, well. “For the handle,” Ritsu repeats, slowly, but with less hesitation. He can’t see Shou’s face from this angle, but he can hear him beaming when he says, “Yeah! Good job!” Ritsu sighs, shoulders sagging with relief. It had been the tail end of a grueling paragraph that had made him want to brutally murder either Shou or the author of the book. Possibly both. The way they’re slung awkwardly over Shou’s feet, his thighs are starting to feel numb, so he shifts around in Shou’s lap until the pins and needles are starting to fade, and settles back against Shou’s chest again, asking, “So, what now?” with a yawn. “Um,” comes Shou’s strangled response, more of an undignified squeak than anything. He feels oddly stiff. “Maybe… go back to the first chapter and… see if you’re any better with it? Yeah.” His voice is wavering in pitches, like he’s trying desperately hard to keep it sounding normal.

Ritsu almost moves to turn, ask what’s up with him, but then he pauses and feels something that he’s pretty sure wasn’t there before.

Oh.

Oh. His first instinct is to jump up and get as far away as possible, but he makes himself sit still, flipping slowly back to the front of the book as he considers his options. The way he sees things, there are three of them.

One, he could go with his brain’s first response and freak out, probably embarrassing Shou, and more than likely fracturing their tentative friendship.

Two, he could just keep reading, pretend not to notice, and wait for it to go away. There was no real point in drawing attention to something that was a normal response to stimulus, especially from a hormonal teenager.

Or three, he could… he could… well, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t considered it before.

Option three had as much potential as option one to fuck things up, if he miscalculated. After all, they were high-schoolers. It wasn’t as if he didn’t just get hard for no reason, regardless of the presence of someone he was attracted to. It didn’t necessarily mean anything. Though, thinking back to the way Shou acted around him, the giggling, the looks, and, actually, was Shou as touchy with anyone else as he was with Ritsu?

He flips the rest of the way back to chapter one, abruptly grateful for the placement of the book.

If he’s going to try this, it has to be now. He moves experimentally, under the guise of adjusting to be comfortable again. Now that he knows what he’s looking for, he can definitely feel Shou’s dick through his pants, and he rubs against it, just a little, settling so that it’s more or less pressed up against his ass. A low, choked keening sound escapes Shou’s mouth, and it goes straight to Ritsu’s groin in a way that he didn’t anticipate, had never really felt before even on the rare few occasions he’d seen porn online, a surge of pure heat.

“Y’know,” Shou says, “I think we’ve done enough for just now. Let’s take, uh, a break.” Ritsu feigns ignorance, finding something satisfying about being in control of the situation right now. “Oh? But I thought you said my vowels needed more work?” Shou makes a noise that can only be described as a whine. “I need the bathroom.” Shou went to the bathroom less than ten minutes ago. Ritsu doesn’t move when Shou tries to shift out from underneath him. “Suzuki.” Shou is almost certainly strong enough to push Ritsu off of him, even not taking psychic powers into account, but he doesn’t seem to be thinking much at the moment, trying to move himself instead of Ritsu and only managing to make his problem worse in the process. “Suzuki.” Ritsu tries to get his attention again. When that fails, he clamps one hand on his knee, and as an afterthought, he tosses the book out of his lap somewhere across the room. “Shou.” Shou freezes at the sound of his name. Actually turning around without standing up is kind of awkward, but Ritsu manages to move himself so that he’s more or less straddling Shou’s legs, steadying himself with a hand on Shou’s shoulder, and wow, Shou’s face is only a couple of shades pinker than his hair, the darker freckles standing out like constellations on his cheeks. He’s staring up at Ritsu with wide eyes, mouth hanging just slightly open, and his bottom lip looks red and sore, like he’s been biting on it. The last of Ritsu’s hesitation crumbles. He leans forward until his forehead is pressed against Shou’s. “Shou,” he repeats, just to feel and see the breath go out of him at the word, “tell me to stop, and we never have to speak about this again.” “Please,” Shou hisses, and grabs the front of Ritsu’s shirt to pull their lips together. Ritsu’s entire world is heat. He’s kissed girls before, sure, light pecks for fun behind the gym or outside the school gates, but he hadn’t known it could be like this, hungry and desperate and Shou is everywhere, legs hooking around Ritsu’s waist and fingers digging into his hips, with his teeth occasionally grazing Ritsu’s lips in a way that makes him stifle a moan in the back of his throat. It’s probably not supposed to be this sloppy or wet, and Ritsu’s nose is going to hurt if they keep it up like this, but he can’t really bring himself to care. Trying to keep his balance, and the upper hand, Ritsu threads a hand through Shou’s hair and tugs. He’s rewarded for his efforts by Shou whimpering, actually whimpering, and then Shou rocks forward so that Ritsu is suddenly on his back, on the floor, with Shou above him. The rhythm changes, and now Shou is pressing shorter, harder kisses to his lips, barely giving him any room to reciprocate.

From this angle, Ritsu can actually see the outline of Shou’s dick, and, oh, he has an idea. “Suzuki,” he breathes between kisses, “d’you, do you remember, a few years back? The, the culture festival.” Shou laughs into his mouth, pausing to reply, “I remember your dress.” Ritsu rolls his eyes, giving Shou’s hair another tug. “Well, yeah, but I mean what you said. About if- if me being a maid meant that I had to serve you.”

Shou laughs breathlessly, says, “Well, how could I forget, you punched me,” but his pupils are blown and he’s staring at Ritsu like he’s just offered him the entire world, so Ritsu thinks he’s sold. He presses a hand to Shou’s shoulder and pushes him over so that Shou’s on his back, and Ritsu is straddling his hips again. Shou lets out a shaky breath, and Ritsu lets himself kiss him again once, and asks, “Can I… Can I try something?”

Shou’s nod is immediate and enthusiastic, and his eyes somehow get wider than they already were, so Ritsu takes that as his cue to start shuffling down Shou’s body, pausing to press his lips to his neck on the way.

Shou’s legs fall open easily, and Ritsu settles between them, looking back up at Shou. “Okay?” he asks, just to be sure, because frankly, he’s not sure. Shou is propped up on one elbow, staring at him with his other hand not-quite covering his slack-jawed mouth. His face is still burning and his hair is mussed from Ritsu’s hand, his lips are slick and kiss-bruised, and holy shit, Ritsu wants him. Shou seems beyond words, because he just nods again, making a kind of squeaking sound somewhere in his throat. Ritsu hooks his fingers in the waistband of Shou’s sweatpants and pulls, Shou lifting his hips off of the ground to help him. He stares for a moment at Shou’s erection, straining against the material of his boxers, and tries to reorient himself. It’s not that he doesn’t want to do it, because at this point he really, really, does. But, well, he only knows the theory of the thing, and he’s pretty sure that online porn isn’t entirely reliable, as far as the practice goes. Still, he prides himself on being a quick learner.

When he pulls Shou’s dick out of his boxers, keeping a hand loosely around the base, Shou sighs softly, head falling back to the ground. Ritsu feels fingers threading through his hair, not pulling like Ritsu had, just holding.

Experimentally, he licks a stripe from the base to the head, and watches as Shou throws his other arm over his face, the hand in Ritsu’s hair gripping convulsively. It doesn’t taste… bad, per-se? Kind of weird, though. Nothing he can’t handle.

He takes the tip into his mouth, letting it rest on his tongue for a moment. Strange as Shou can be, he doesn’t think anyone would particularly like their dick being scraped, so he does his best to wrap his lips around his teeth. He licks around the head, feeling for the slit and pressing into it with the tip of his tongue cautiously.

Shou lets out a stifled moan, and when Ritsu looks up, he sees that he’s biting the back of his hand. Ritsu is somehow always surprised, when he remembers that he likes the sound of Shou’s voice, the melodic flow of it, but that moan almost knocks the breath out of him. He really wants to hear it again.

He pulls off with a small pop.

“Nobody’s home, Suzuki,” he says, trying not to let how wrecked he’s feeling show in his voice, “you can be as loud as you like.”

Shou’s arm falls back to the floor, and he pants, “You’re gonna kill me.”

Not if you manage to kill me first, Ritsu thinks, going back to work. This time he doesn’t hesitate before taking Shou into his mouth, and he slides down slowly, figuring out the right times to breathe through his nose as he goes. Figures, that Shou wouldn’t be able to shut up during something like this. Now that he’s got permission, he’s all noise, low, keening sounds and shaky breaths, and there are nails digging into Ritsu’s scalp in a way that makes him think that if it weren’t so embarrassing, he could come without being touched at all. Shou’s hips are making stuttering jumps, like he’s trying to thrust up into Ritsu’s mouth but can’t concentrate enough to establish a rhythm, but Ritsu moves a hand to his hip to hold him still to the ground, leaving the other as support on the ground. He’s painfully hard, and he reaches to undo his zipper before the friction makes him come in his pants, but he finds that he can’t keep his balance if he’s not propping himself up. Based on his lack of experience, he’s not sure that he could call Shou small, but they’re teenagers, and he’s not that... surely, there’s no way he’s big enough that Ritsu couldn’t…? Only one way to find out. He takes a deep breath through his nose before bobbing his head, taking more and more of Shou into his mouth. When his nose brushes the curls of copper hair at the base of his dick, the head is not quite brushing the back of Ritsu’s throat, vaguely tickling but not enough to set off his gag reflex. “Fuck, oh my god, Ritsu.” Ritsu isn’t entirely sure that Shou is breathing. From here, Ritsu’s sense of direction is more fuzzy, but he gets the general idea, and somehow, he doesn’t think Shou is going to criticize his technique. It’s surprisingly easy to get into a rhythm, bobbing his head up and down, occasionally going all the way down and sucking. Shou is letting out breathy moans to the rhythm of Ritsu’s movement, and he’s straining against the hand Ritsu is using to hold down his hips. There’s the sound of moving paper, like rapid flipping through pages, and when Ritsu glances around, sure enough most of the books they’d been studying from are either flipping from front to back, or floating a couple of feet in the air, surrounded by the orange-pinkish haze of Shou’s aura. If he breaks anything, Ritsu is making him clean it up.

“Ritsu, I-” The hand fisted in his hair tightens, and he finds himself being tugged off of Shou’s dick, in time for Shou to gasp, “I’m gonna, gonna-” Shou comes in a few hot spurts, managing to paint Ritsu’s cheeks and nose in white stripes. He is, perhaps, less bothered by this than he should be. Any annoyance he might’ve had is overwhelmed by the look on Shou’s face when he sits up and stares at Ritsu, face still bright red and looking absolutely wrecked. “Sorry, I, uh,” he stutters, before blurting, “you look really good like this.” Wow.

The combination of that, and the novelty of seeing Shou’s blustered confidence fall apart so utterly serves to remind Ritsu that his own dick is aching, and he sits back to let Shou compose himself, shoving a hand into his underwear and planning to make quick work of his own problem. “Oh, wait!” Shou says, scooching back over so he’s kneeling by Ritsu. “I wanted to… can I?” He’s already reaching a hand for Ritsu’s dick, so he shrugs and nods. When Shou wraps a loose fist around him and start stroking, the feeling is so overwhelming that he drops his head forward onto Shou’s shoulder, hissing, “Fuck.” He’s a teenager, so it’s a familiar technique, designed to get the job done quickly, but it feels so different with someone else’s hand, the unfamiliar feeling of Shou’s skin, the small callouses on the pads of a couple of his fingers. It’s been pent up long enough now that it only takes a few strokes before Ritsu is spilling over Shou’s hand, moaning quietly into the crook of his neck.

They stay, sitting for a moment, even as the come on his face and in his pants is becoming uncomfortably cold and sticky. “That was…” Shou begins, then trails off. “Wow.” Yeah, ‘wow’ is one way of putting it.

He murmurs into Shou’s shoulder, “Next time, we should do it somewhere that you can see me the entire time.” It has absolutely nothing to do with him wanting to be able to see Shou the entire time.  Nope, not at all.

“Ritsu, oh my god.”

[clexaweekofficial]

Some more ideas for Clexaweek2018, feel free to use these! (for credit for some of these prompts, here’s my pinterest where you can find them) 

Day 1: Meet Ugly: "We live in the same apartment complex and I accidentally leave my laundry in the washer for a minute too long and you decide to take out all my wet clothes to put in yours just as I walk in." Imagine grumpy Lexa who is beyond sick of some inconsiderate asshole who always leaves their laundry too long and she has things to do so she takes the wet clothes out to put her own in, and is caught red-handed by a gorgeous blonde who stands in the doorway with her hands on her hips looking equal parts annoyed and amused. Lexa goes on the defensive and snaps at her but the girl seems to grow more amused. After that Clarke starts taking her stuff out on time and Lexa is a bit miserable at the guilt and the fact that she kinda wishes she had an excuse to see the pretty blonde again... and then one day Clarke is late and Lexa’s a little too happy about that, especially when Clarke arrives actually sliding into laundry room before skidding to a halt, panting, and looks very curious indeed at the fact that Lexa only smiles at her apologies. They end up chatting in there for hours. Lexa finally grows some ovaries and asks Clarke out at the end, and Clarke kisses her cheek and tells her she can’t believe their first date was in the laundry room and Lexa blushes. 

"I work in a grocery store and I'm putting new items on the shelf in the refrigerated section and just as I'm putting a new carton of milk on the shelf, you reach in and our hands touch" LOL okay but imagine a fluffy au where Lexa's the one working at a grocery store and Clarke's in one of her classes and she's so pretty but Lexa can never work up the nerve to talk to her and then this happens and Clarke shrieks and flails and falls, bringing milk with her that goes all over the place, so Lexa rushes out to find a shocked Clarke lying in a puddle of milk and Lexa's face gets redder than a tomato (bonus points if she takes Clarke to the back to change since she has an extra shirt she changed out of for her work clothes, and then to make matters worse her boss walks in on her in the locker room with a shirtless, messy blonde)

"Human emotions can be bottled and sold on the black market. You are in desperate need of money and sell yours. It will take months to grow back, leaving you empty inside. The next day you meet her." Lexa doesn’t want to, but she does it, and then she meets Clarke and well...let’s just say Lexa’s so fuckin gay and Clarke’s her fuckin soulmate and she should probably be more freaked out by the fact that she is feeling already when she shouldn’t be

"You're a hitman with a conscience. Before every kill, you help the victim check something off their bucket list." Lexa's the hitman and is assigned Clarke. She watches her for weeks beforehand, learning her schedule, and pretends to be a student, 'meeting' Clarke in one of Clarke's classes and befriending her. Like always, she sets out to help her check something off her bucket list. She doesn't anticipate falling in love with her. I can't help but to picture Clexa on a road trip for this one, going somewhere where they can go on a hot air balloon together...

Day 2: Constantly mistaken for a couple: A twist on a fake dating au: Clarke and Lexa are dating, and then Raven begs Clarke to be her pretend-date because she doesn't want to show up to the company party where Wick, a douche she'd dated on and off, is, so she begs Clarke to pretend date her. Clarke does so and it goes swimmingly-- the bad news is, only two days later she discovers those same people are working on the apartment across from Lexa's, so she and Lexa try to pass themselves off as cousins/sisters/whatever to explain why they live together...but they keep giving each other really filthy pre-sex looks behind everyone's back like a game of chicken and pretty soon somebody is going to have serious concerns about their siblinghood.

“Hi sorry but I'm a youtuber and you wandered into my liveshow by mistake the other day and now half the internet thinks we're dating"

Day 3: At work: 

"Heroine: *on top of the Villain Lady holding her down* You are defeated! Villain Lady: you forgot about my secret weapon. Vilain Lady: It can only be defused by kissing me on the mouth. Heroine: ..... Heroine: you know you could've jut asked me out instead of taking over this city? Villain Lady: I'M AWKWARD OK?”

Lexa as a lawful-good hero, “The Commander,” Clarke as the chaotic neutral sometimes-hero, sometimes-villain who drives Lexa up the wall most times. Or Clarke as the neutral-good hero and Lexa as the neutral sometimes-hero, sometimes-villain who is smooth and cool and just operates to her own rules

Day 4: Accidental Stimulation:

(This could pair with Day 6, Famous)- Lexa is the lead in a play/show/movie and Clarke’s painting the backdrops. No one fucking told her that she’d be working the same time Lexa was rehearsing a sexy scene. Clarke’s gripping the paintbrush so hard it’s about to break because holy shit 

Clarke slept in and missed her final for art but luckily the professor is letting her make it up and the nude model consented to come back... except the nude model is Lexa and so gorgeous Clarke is going to bomb this final (alternatively, you could do it where the reason Clarke slept in and missed her final is because she was up for hours with a girl she’d just met...and that girl turns out to be Lexa, who is filling in for the model)

“I literally hate your guts but I have to get you fitted for this costume so put this on and and wow you’re actually pretty cute”

Day 5: Rivals in a secret relationship:

Clexa are on rival teams and everyone knows they hate each other and their teams play each other for playoffs and everyone’s freaking out because the captains of both teams are missing so there’s a search party and police involved and everything...and then they find them naked and asleep and covered in hickeys in the back of Clarke’s car

Lexa and Clarke are always going toe-to-toe at work and all the employees are kind of scared of them tbh but turns out outside of work they are super Soft girlfriends 

Clexa are on a reality tv program and the audience eats up their relationship and how they fight but they’re actually in love and secretly engaged

“So what are we” “Enemies with benefits”

Day 6: Famous:

Clarke is a famous celebrity who visits her friend Raven/Octavia/Wells whoever and they order a pizza and Clarke forgets she’s famous for a minute and answers the door and the pizza girl (Lexa) about has a heart attack and Clarke’s like omg shit wait please don’t tell anyone I’m here or the paparazzi will swarm, here come inside and share some of this pizza and here’s a huge tip Bonus points if Lexa can barely speak and is just scarlet-faced the entire time with the knowledge that she’s written explicit smut about the tv character Clarke plays

Clarke/Lexa's a famous celebrity and decides to check out one of her fans pages and accidentally likes a picture from like 176 weeks ago

Clarke and Lexa are both chefs on The Great British Baking Show (Live) and the entire world is hardcore shipping them and Mel and Sue (Or Octavia and Raven) keep making food-related dirty puns. Bonus points if the viewership keeps climbing so even Mary starts making little comments that indicate she’s a #Clexa fan. 

Lexa is a famous movie-star who escapes the paparazzi and her stifling body guards by slipping into a local library one rainy day and is immediately besotted with the pretty blonde librarian who doesn’t seem to have a clue who she is because she doesn’t really watch much television. Alternatively, Clarke’s the movie star and Lexa the librarian 

Clarke’s on that Skin Wars tv show and Lexa’s a model and she has to paint her body

Inked au where Lexa’s a tattoo artist and Clarke is her customer and Lexa’s super distracted by blue eyes and a pretty smile

Day 7: Free Day ideas:

Lexa works at a coffee shop and has always had a crush on Clarke, the beautiful blonde who comes in with paint-stained fingers and a distracted smile. Clarke leaves town for two years and returns...and can't believe Lexa still knows her order. (and Lexa can't believe Clarke remembers her!)

Lexa's the manager of the shop and one of the employees keeps drawing amazing art on the chalkboards, but Lexa can't figure out who it is even though she's been keeping a meticulous schedule to figure out whose shift it appears during

Lexa and her frinds always sit at the table a couple down from Clarke's and gossip in Trigedasleng, which happens to be a language Clarke is currently  learning. Clarke has been eavesdropping to try and improve her listening comprehension and oh my God is Lexa actually talking about how hot Clarke is??

There's a chess set at the local coffee shop set up in the corner and every morning Clarke/Lexa moves one piece. Later in the day, someone else always moves a piece too. Clarke/Lexa is dying to know who she's playing against.

"I'm a new hire and you're trying to show me how to use the espresso machine. I actually already know how to use it, but I'm pretending to be incompetent so that you'll keep talking to me. Please don't fire me.”

[greasygyeom]

Title: The Movie Marathon

By: GreasyGyeom

Summary: It’s no secret that Jackson Wang hates scary movies.

Jackson x Reader (F) Fluff.

“No no no no. No way. No way. I am NOT sitting through this.” Jackson violently shakes his head, seeing the DVDs in your hands.

You pout instantly, giving him your best puppy eyes.

“Oh really?” He rolls his eyes “I invented puppy eyes, okay? This is not going to work on me. Why do you want to see this, of all things?”

His current distress is honestly more comical than worrisome.

“It’s my birthday wish, you’re going to break your own rule and deny me my birthday wish?”

“Aaaah.” He wails in exaggeration, stuffing his face into a pillow to muffle his melodrama.

In that moment a tiny part of him hates you for ambushing him like this.

Three years ago he’d smoothly tricked you into meeting his parents, under the pretence of it being his one and only birthday wish that you could not deny.

Since then it had become a ritual of sorts and the scary movie marathon strangely felt like a well calculated payback.

“It’s going to be fun, I promise!” you giggle, knowing just how much he dislikes things that involve dark rooms and ghosts.

But you’re absolutely determined.

Jackson throws you a dirty look, the one where where he narrows his eyes and stretches his mouth like he’s caught your white lie.

“Fun? Fun? This is about as much fun as sitting on that roller coaster with Jinyoung. The whole world saw how much fun I had.”

You refrain from laughing at the memory of what Jackson refers to as the ‘worst 5 minutes of his life’.

“It’s okay, if you scream like that, I will gag you.”

“That is so comforting, bao.”

You spring up from your side of the bed and tackle him into a bone-crushing hug.

“Bubzie, if it’s too much, you can koala cling onto me, okay?

He hides his face in your chest, reluctant to say yes, knowing he had no other option but to. You boop his nose when he makes his squirtle face — the face that had made you fall in love with him so many years ago.

"It’ll be worse if we watch all the movies after sun down…. you know that’s when the ghosts really come out to play.”

“Aaah stop”, he screams wrapping his arms around you, in fear. “It’s not funny!”

“Okay, okay fine”, you pacify a visibly terrified and trembling 24 year old man. “Let’s not do this. Let’s do something else instead.”

You melt, while stroking his head lovingly.

As much as you want to torment Jackson for your amusement (scaring him is quite literally your favourite hobby), you don’t really want to make him suffer.

“No… it’s your one non-refundable birthday wish of 2018.”

“It’s really okaaaay. We don’t have to. We can watch disney movies. I’m okay with those too.”

He looks at you with the most innocent expression on his face and it makes you wonder how you had gotten so lucky to even end up with this adorable human bean.

He flinches at the sight of the first DVD cover but gives you a kiss on your cheek.

“Really I keep telling you I’d die for you and I can’t even get myself to watch a scary movie.”

“Hey, don’t talk about dying.”

“Sorry, bao” he sheepishly replies, this time kissing your other cheek, before shifting you back onto the bed.

He then proceeds to pick up one of the disks and walks towards the TV set.

“What are you doing, Jackson?”

“Starting the movie marathon, what else?”

A grin spreads on your face as you straighten up and make space for him to join you. The minute he sits down, he locks his arm in with yours.

“Oh my god, the movie hasn’t even started.”

But he makes the softest whimpering sound that makes you snuggle in closer.

When the eerie background music begins to play, you feel his body tense up next to yours.

His eyes are glued to the screen. Your eyes are glued to him, because with each cliched frame that pans through, he gets increasingly fidgety.

A dilapidated house comes into view. Jackson’s heart races, as loud as the hooves of a show horse displacing the mud in it’s path. His grasp on your fingers tightens.

The suspense builds up, as seconds turn into minutes; and 6 different angles later the music pierces through the pin drop silence. He yelps, hiding his face in your collarbone.

“It’s nothing, it’s nothing. It’s just people.”

“Fucking hell why are they so dumb? Why are they even going inside the house it’s obviously haunted”, he rants in a pitch higher than his normal voice.

Distress lines form on his forehead as he anticipates the next jump-scare.

And it scares him alright.

He almost hops into your lap.

“YA! WHY DO THEY ALWAYS HAVE CHILDREN AS GHOSTS"

You cackle in your throat, choking on your own breath. You couldn’t have let him know that his little breakdown was proving to be far more entertaining.

“Aah…. really I can’t do this.“

"We can stop Ja–”

He cuts you short, ”No we can’t.“

You look back at the screen, sighing. Three murders and 15 petrifying zoom-ins later, Jackson finds a comfortable spot between you and the headboard, huddle in a mini tent of his own under all the blankets

With his arms locked around your waist, his legs underneath yours and his face buried deep in your spine, you narrate the scenes as they happen.

"Okay, now the smallest kid is on the swing and there’s like blood flowing down his neck– Oh holy shit! Half his skull is missing!”

He wiggles, in protest.

"Oh shit, oh shit! Now the boy is stalking one of the couples who were fighting earlier.”

“Oh no, not the Dunphys. I liked the Dunphys!” He whines, chewing your sweatshirt in his mouth.

Quite weirdly, his teeth-y, anxious bites trigger your hunger.

“I just realised what’s missing. We never got the popcorn from the kitchen….

Lemme go get it.” You pat on his hand twice, asking him to loosen his hold.

“No. What if there’s a ghost here?”

“Okaay…… then you go get it?”

“No! What if there’s a ghost in the hallway!!”

“Oh come on Jackson!”

“I’m not going to be left alone.”

“Okay fine! Let’s both go get a singular bowl of popcorn from the kitchen.” You say, as you hit pause on the remote control.

He follows you around like a small, clingy puppy, bumping into you ever so often. The shadows in the dark trick him constantly, scaring him even more than he already is.

You hear him chanting 'please god, please god’, under his breath, as if trying to repel all unholy spirits. It’s not sundown yet, so you manage to find the bowl without having to switch the lights on.

“You want anything else, baby?” You ask but the sound you make causes him to jump.

“N-no” he replies “Just hurry up.”

“I’m done, I’m done!”

You move back into the hallway, holding the popcorn in your arms. He once again clings to your left sleeve till you’re back inside the room. You un-pause the movie right as the  "haunted spirt" enters the screen and Jackson falls back onto the bed, screaming.

“WHAT THE FUCK. OH MY GOD AT LEAST GIVE ME A WARNING!”

You fall on top of him because he’d never quite left your sleeve, barely managing to keep the popcorn from spilling over. Your first priority is to secure the bowl.

Even though initially you’d screamed because of him, you can’t help but snicker at his low tolerance for suspense.

Watching you laugh out like that puts a wide grin on his face, because that’s how he always wants to make you feel — so joyful that misery is never able to find it’s way to you.

He’s terrified but he laughs with you while wrapping his legs around your waist and pressing your back on his chest with his arms crossed over yours.

You’re showered with endless kisses on your neck as you continue to giggle under his soft touch.

“You can’t wriggle out of watching the movie no matter how much you kiss me though” you declare and he starts giving you even more kisses, making you giggle even louder.

The movie continues in the background, a few more people almost die and you don’t pay attention until there’s a loud scream.

You both sit up and look to the screen, startled.

“Is this the first time someone is…… screaming in this movie?” Jackson enquires.

“Yeah, the kid only kills when they’re sleeping and no one has actually seen him.”

“I’m going to be terrified of little kids now?”

“It’s not real, baby.”

“You don’t know that. What if some kid is stalking us right now, plotting to kill us in our sleep,”

“That will never happen.”

“Oh? Why?”

“I would know if there’s a ghost here.”

“How?” He suspiciously asks.

At that moment you bend towards him and whisper, “because, I see dead people.”

He hits you playfully on your thigh, pulling the bed cover over his head; hiding himself under the soft thick piece of cloth. “Bao, I’m not talking to you anymore.”

You hug him over his plain purple cloak of invisibility. "Aww baby, I know. But you still love me the most.”

"No, go away. I’m not playing.”

You tug at the covers, “Jacksonaaah” and make space for yourself next to him. “There’s three more movies to go before my birthday actually gets over. How will it work if you hide.”

“YOU WANT TO MAKE ME WATCH THREE MORE MOVIES?” He screams poking his head out from under his little tent.

“I want you to get over your fear.”

“I’m not scared.” He pouts

You can’t stop yourself this time, so you kiss him. You love how his lips feel so soft and plum between your teeth.

“You know….. if you do make it through these movies, without your soul leaving your body…… maybe we could….. try that thing you always wanted”, you tease between pecks.

He looks at you wide-eyed. “You’re serious?”

“Absolutely”

His hands find their way to the back of your thighs and rest on your ass.

“Then let’s do this.”

“Wow, I should have bribed you with sex sooner.”

He gives you a filthy, cheeky smirk but it vanishes almost instantly when you get his attention back to the screen.

“Can’t we do the sex bit first? It might motivate me more.”

“No”, you reply but pull his arms around you, under your shirt, as he resumes his seat behind you. “This is incentive enough.”

He scrunches his nose. “Ugh, fine” and rests his chin on your shoulder. He knows he’s going to hate every second of the next 6-7 hours just like he hated every second of the hour and a half that went by.

But he’s going to sit through it anyway, because after all… it’s your day and he loves you more than the moon loves the earth and he’d do just about anything to prove it.

[sonderlivra]

Winners and Losers - an SnK AU One-shot

Requested by @pickalilywrites

Rating: K+

Warnings: None, strong language.

Universe: Modern AU

Genre: Fluff (I tried!)

Prompt: #52. “I think I’m in love with you and that scares me half to death.”

Summary: Jean, Mikasa and corny pick-up lines at a bar.

————–

It was a pretty cosy bar, not too shabby, not too swanky. The patrons were friendly but not bawdy. The burly bartender made sure of that with his no-nonsense demeanour.

On this Friday evening, sitting at one end of the bar, casually sipping a whiskey sour, was a woman. She caused quite a few stares to be directed her way, with her silky dark hair, her sharp features, and her shapely long legs that extended from a fitted dark dress. Only one man had approached her so far this evening; he had clearly not noticed her bulging biceps or her stone-grey gaze. Unsurprisingly, he was sent back in short order.

This was entertainment enough for the bartender. He topped up her drink at a gesture from her, and as he did so, he couldn’t hide his grin.

“What?” She asked him dryly.

“That guy’s lucky to be alive,” he jerked his head at the would-be suitor, who was currently moping in a corner booth.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Bob,” she told him, smiling, and tipped her glass at him.

“Cheers,” he nodded and went to serve a customer.

The woman sat alone for some more time, even as the bar began to fill with more people. At one point, the bartender happened to glance her way, and saw a young man with copper hair approach her. His immediate reaction was, “Oh no.”

“What?” Asked the woman waiting for her margaritas.

“Nothing,” he said smoothly and continued mixing the drinks. That young man had no idea what he was walking into. Well, he’d find out soon enough.

The young man in question had his eyes drawn to the woman almost as soon as he entered the bar. Without stopping to think, or even ordering a drink, he sauntered over to her, a confident smirk on his face.

Ladies loved a guy who knew what he was doing, after all.

“Hey, there,” he said, and the woman turned to him. Holy fuck, she was stunning.

“Hello.”

He gestured for the bartender, and drawled, “Another of these for me.” He pointed at the whiskey in front of the woman. “Can I buy you one?”

“No, thanks.”

“One whiskey sour, coming right up,” the bartender nodded.

Jean leaned forward, looking at the woman very pointedly. “So,” he began archly.

The woman looked at him again, her face expressionless. “Do I know you?”

Ouch.

Jean restructured his lines immediately. “The name’s Jean Kirschtein. My friends call me Jean, but you,” he winked at her, “can call me anytime.”

He did not think it possible, but her expression became colder. He had to gulp down a large quantity of his drink before he continued.

“Hmm, too tame for you, huh,” Jean said, nodding sagely. “Understandable. So,” he made a grand gesture with his hands for another drink and leaned lazily against the bar counter. “I withdraw my previous statement and I now propose to you- the stars.” He widened his eyes and blinked up at her in a manner he knew would make his eyes sparkle. “The forecast today must be wrong because I can still see stars despite the clouds -in your eyes.”

The bartender chose this moment to set down his drink and winced. “Yikes, man,” he muttered and Jean managed to spare a split-second glare at the man. The woman, meanwhile, took another casual sip of her drink with no change in her countenance whatsoever.

Still, Jean rallied. “Speaking of your eyes, do you happen to have a map? Because I’m so totally lost in your eyes, like, damn.”

And then it happened. Finally, finally, the woman responded. “You must get lost a lot. I can see that from your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.”

The bartender cackled as he mixed a cocktail. A voice in Jean’s head that sounded disturbingly like Jaeger went, ‘Oooh, burn.’

Jean stared at the woman, at a loss for words. Imaginary Jaeger was right. That had been a devastating burn, indeed.

She coolly swigged the last of her drink, and leaned towards him. “I win,” she smirked.

Jean blinked rapidly. “What? N -no!”

“No? Then where’s your comeback, lover boy?” She raised her eyebrow tauntingly. “Do you have anything to say?”

Jean searched madly in his head, but came up with zilch. “I -I… aw, fuck.”

Still grinning, she gestured at the bartender for two more drinks. “Since you’re paying,” she told Jean sweetly.

Words finally made themselves accessible to him, and Jean sputtered, “Woah, Mikasa, I agreed to no such thing!”

“Don’t be a spendthrift, darling,” she said smoothly as two more glasses were placed before them. She smiled up at the bartender. “Hey, Bob. Allow me to introduce to you Jean Kirschtein.” A slight widening of her smile. “My boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend, huh?” Bob grunted as he shook Jean’s hand. “What do you do, then?”

“I just passed the bar exam,” Jean said, trying to be casual about it but failing miserably.

To his surprise, the bartender let out a bark of laughter. “Boy, you really need to work on your lines or you’re a piss-poor lawyer.” To Jean’s annoyance Mikasa chuckled next to him. But then she put her hand on his shoulder and said, “Oh, he can handle himself,” making him feel instantly better.

The bartender simply shrugged and withdrew with a smile. Jean turned to Mikasa. “Were they really that bad?”

“Um… cheers?” Clearly still holding back laughter, she nudged his drink that Bob the bartender had just placed before them.

“Wow, thanks,” Jean groaned and guzzled his drink.

“Oh, come on, Jean. It’s alright. To be honest, I expected worse.” She squeezed his arm reassuringly.

“Such high praise,” he said sarcastically, suppressing a burp. How many drinks had he downed already? Three? Four?

“No, but you exceeded my expectations! That’s something, isn’t it?”

“Sure.”

“Speaking of exceeding expectations, I had one in mind to use on you,” she said, fingering a chain around her neck. “I thought you’d open with a reference, because of, you know, this.” She held up the pendant of the chain, a well-known geometric symbol from a popular fantasy series.

“Oh yeah? What was the line?” He asked half-heartedly.

Mikasa made a great show of clearing her throat, then leaned in and whispered, “'What Hogwarts house are you in? Because I’d totally like to Slytherin your bed’.”

They stared at each other in a split second of silence, his eyes narrowed in shock, hers sparkling with anticipation.

Then he grasped her hand. “Mikasa,” he murmured.

“What?” She asked, clearly startled at his serious tone.

“I have to… to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

He took a deep breath. He had been agonising over telling her this for weeks. But now, maybe because of the alcohol, or because of that ridiculous bloody statement (Slytherin? The fuck?), Jean suddenly felt like it was the easiest, most important thing to say.

“I think I’m in love with you and that scares me half to death.”

He felt her hand freeze in his grasp. Her eyes remained wide. “Why… why does it scare you?”

“Because you’re you. And I’m me. I mean, you're… you.” He gestured at her with his free hand. “You’re -you’re perfect.”

“Jean-”

“No, but you are.” He placed his hand gently on her cheek. “You’re so fucking perfect it’s insane, Mikasa. Half the time I’m with you, I think, am I dreaming? Because why are you with me? I mean, I’m not bad, like, I’m pretty handsome, right?” He grinned but didn’t really feel like laughing. “I’m good, but yeah, I can be a dick. But you -you’re just -just on a whole other level, with your brains and your -your incredible kindness and the way you can just kick ass-”

“Jean.” She leaned forward and put a finger on his lip, effectively cutting off his speech. “Nobody’s perfect. And for the record… I love you, too.” She blinked rapidly and he saw her cheeks flush pink under his palm.

Good gods, she was adorable.

“I love you so much it scared me too. Because I’m not perfect either. I was convinced there are tons of girls prettier, smarter, just better than me at being your girlfriend. But,” she said loudly as he tried to interrupt, and pressed her finger more firmly on his lips. “I have come to realise that it doesn’t really matter. That no one is really perfect, but I think, I really think that we’re perfect together. And that’s enough for me.” She withdrew her finger and leaned back slightly. “Is -is that enough for you?”

His answer was immediate, unthinking.

“Fuck yes.” He breathed and caught her lips in his, heat spreading from his chest and through his very veins when she kissed him back just as fervently.

Several delicious moments later, they broke apart and Jean said, “Okay, but there’s also the tiny thing about your friends that terrifies me.”

A smirk was beginning to quiver at her lips. “What do you mean?”

“Uh, have you met them? Between the homicidal bastard and the twisted little creep I’m pretty much screwed when it comes to dating you.”

“Now you’re just being mean,” she nudged him gently. “And I thought you liked Armin?”

“I did. Until he manipulated me into getting into a bet with my super talented, super amazing girlfriend. He was totally setting me up to fail.”

Mikasa snorted. “I’m sure that’s not true. He has faith in you.”

“Miks, babe, I’m saying he has faith in your ability to leave me speechless. Like…” he raised an eyebrow. “What the fuck was that Slytherin one? It was fucking deplorable.”

Mikasa bit her lip. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Are you kidding me? If you’d used that on me, there would have been no way, no fucking way I’d have known how to respond to that. I would have lost, for sure.”

She was grinning in full force now and took a sip of her drink archly. “I thought I was super talented and super amazing?”

He matched her grin with his and kissed her fondly on her head. “You are. You’re also super bad at pickup lines. Like, really, really bad. It’s amazing how bad you are.”

“Hey!”

He deftly avoided a swat of her hand, knowing from experience that they hurt like a bitch. Instead, he curled his arm around her waist and pulled her close.

“Like I said,” he murmured in her ear, “You’re perfect.”

He felt her arms wrap around him. “I love you, too,” she whispered in his ear.

He shook with laughter, joy blooming like a balloon in his chest. “You were wrong before.”

“Mm?”

He held her tighter. “I win,” he murmured, and kissed her again.

[5hfanfiction]

Blame It On Bad Luck - Chapter 23

Things were silent between them again.

And it wasn’t for lack of trying. It wasn’t entirely intentional. Not really. Lauren wanted to give Camila her space which, as it turned out, was super convenient since she was in the hospital and Camila—as far as she knew—was still staying at Dinah’s.

It wasn’t exactly what she wanted but she didn’t really want to be in the hospital in the first place not even knowing what her relationship with her roommate even was but…whatever. It was better than any other alternative she was genuinely anticipating so she figured it was fine. Things could be worse.

And it wasn’t like Camila didn’t try to make an effort. Despite the war she was having with herself on whether or not she should even reach out again, all things considered, but there was a nagging feeling biting at her, reminding her that things were delicate.

If she remembered anything from the last time Lauren tried to get clean was that she was a vulnerable, breakable mess. And regardless of what she felt, she just wanted to make sure the girl was okay.

Well, she would have if Lauren was actually anywhere to be found when she went to go see her again. She could have sworn she was supposed to be in the hospital for a couple more days but when she went back to see how she was doing she was only met with an empty room and a million questions.

Or, one, actually. Where the fuck was she?

The conversation that followed with Ally was a simple one. It went something like this.

“Did I get Lauren’s room wrong or did they move her or something?”

“What? No, she left last night.”

“Left? Where did she go? I went back to our apartment last night to feed the cat and she wasn’t there.”

“She didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“She’s in rehab.”

She really didn’t mean to hang up on the girl, in all honesty. But she desperately needed a moment to just process what she had said.

Lauren was actually in rehab.

She didn’t know how long she would be there; neither did Ally apparently. And part of her worried for how much school she was missing, knowing how much the girl hated how far behind she had already fallen over the years. She didn’t blame her for wanting to be done with it as soon as possible.

But this was good. This was really good. Camila wasn’t completely confident that Lauren wouldn’t spiral further downward if it were even possible. She didn’t know if she was being honest; that she really, truly wanted to get her life back and actually be serious about it.

As much as she wanted to hate her roommate for lying to her again and for stealing from her she couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite everything, Lauren had changed so much since the day they first met. And before this whole mess she knew she could say, with full confidence, that Lauren was a good person.

She wasn’t sure how to go about things but she reckoned with Lauren gone for however long she would at least have some time to figure things out. And as long as she was there she would be getting help. She’d be staying out of trouble.

This was good for both of them.

*

It was a strange feeling, walking down the familiar streets after everything that had happened. Lauren didn’t know what to expect when she left her inpatient program a week later and was met with the daunting reality of being on her own again.

But she was sober and getting clean with the added help was making it somewhat easier to focus on what was important and what she needed to do. It wasn’t drastic or messy—not like what she was used to coming off of a bender—and for that she was thankful. It was the small silver lining of an otherwise horrible situation.

The physical withdrawal may not have been that bad but getting a clear head was going to take a lot of work, this she already knew. But at least last time, she thought, she had her brother to lean on. She had Camila by her side, ready to do anything she could to make sure she didn’t slip through the cracks.

But in that moment, walking down her street, she’d never felt more alone.

She sighed heavily, shoving her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants and pushed open the door only to be met instantly with the strong scent of beer and French fries. There weren’t too many people in Brady’s but there never was in the middle of the afternoon. She walked over to the bar where Shawn was wiping down the counter, looking up and smiling immediately at the sight of his friend.

“Holy shit,” he said, tossing the dish rag aside and walking around to greet the green eyed girl properly. She was surprised when he pulled her into a giant bear hug, looking excited as ever to see her. He took a step back and finally noticed the fading bruises. “Dude what the hell happened to you?”

“I’m really starting to hate that question,” she said halfheartedly, pulling out one of the barstools to take a seat. “I actually just got out of this treatment program. A lot happened; don’t really want to get too into it. I’m trying to just…put it all behind me.”

“Oh wow. That’s good. I’m glad to hear you’re okay though. When Ally came by looking for you I was worried.”

“You were?”

“Of course. I mean, you always forget to close your tab but I didn’t know you were in trouble. I should have come out to check on you; I knew you weren’t in a good place that night,” he said, mostly to himself, as he moved behind the bar.

“Hey, it’s not your fault. It was busy and you have a job—which is not babysitting me.” She sighed again and looked around the place. She loved Brady’s. She loved knowing that she was safe there. She loved that she had someone like Shawn who cared about her, who looked after her. “You’re a good friend, Shawn.”

He offered her a kind smile, one that she returned and it felt nice; she hadn’t actually smiled in a while. Shawn grabbed the dish rag he was using before and resumed wiping down the rest of the counter.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Uh…well, my card, before I forget again.”

“Right! Right sorry hang on,” he said before going to retrieve it for her. “Here you go, safe and sound.”

“Thanks,” she laughed quietly, and a little weakly. She signed the receipt, pushing it over to him. “I’m actually glad I forgot to get this back. Whoever the hell I was with took all the cash I had on me.”

“Ouch, seriously?”

“Yeah, it was only like…thirty something bucks but…still.”

“I’m sorry, Lauren. People can be really fucked up sometimes.”

“It’s fine. I’m no saint either. Can’t really say I didn’t have this coming,” she half joked, looking down at the bar instead of her friend. Shawn frowned, setting the rag down again and folding his arms over his chest.

“You’re not a bad person. Look, I may not know exactly what happened-”

“I don’t even know what happened.”

“That’s not the point,” he said firmly and leaned his arms against the back of the bar counter, urging her to actually look at him while he spoke. “I’ve known you the entire time you’ve been in college and you’ve drunkenly ranted to me almost every single one of your problems. I don’t just say you’re my favorite customer because you’re always in here. You’re a good person, Lauren; I care about you. And it’s not okay that someone did this to you, no matter what stupid, fucked up things you did in the past.”

She was quiet for a moment, staring up at the boy while she messed with the button on the sleeve of her denim jacket. She took in everything he said, recalling the first time she met him while he was bartending at Brady’s, how nice he was to her from the very beginning and how much she really did confide in him without even realizing it.

“You really think I’m a good person?”

“I like to think I have a pretty good judge of character. Sure, you’re not perfect. But nobody ever is.”

“Thanks, Shawn,” she said quietly, looking down again. “I’m glad I haven’t managed to push you away too. I really fucked up with my brother. And Camila too.”

“Well, I don’t know about your brother…but I’m sure you and Camila can work things out.”

“How could you possibly be sure of that?”

“Because she was in here a couple of days ago,” he told her simply, grabbing a couple of empty glasses on the bar to clean.

“Wait, she was here?”

“Yup. She was with a friend or something. Don’t remember her name; tall…blonde…kind of loud…”

“Blue eyes?” she asked hesitantly.

“Uhh…no. Brown.”

“Thank God,” she mumbled as Shawn turned back around. “Did she say something about me or…?”

“She said some things.”

“How informative.”

“She was just worried about you; that’s all. Nothing bad.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. When her friend left she hung out for a bit and we got to talking. She’s a really nice girl. I can definitely see why you like her so much.”

“Well I think I managed to screw that up too.”

“Well why don’t you pull your head out of your ass and make it up to her?”

“You know…it’s a little annoying how often people say that to me,” she said in amusement, causing Shawn to laugh and he tossed his dish cloth at her. “Hey!”

“Well then pull your head out of your ass already!” he yelled before she threw it back at him. “Honestly, she’s more worried about you than she is mad at you. So you didn’t completely screw things up.”

“She really is too fucking nice, isn’t she?”

“Uh, yeah, from what I can tell. So stop being a dickhead.”

“Alright I get it!” she laughed, reach over the counter to smack him in the arm.

“It’s good to have you back in one piece, Lauren. And I’m glad you went and got help. I don’t know what I would do without my favorite customer.”

“You’d have customers that actually pay their tabs on time, for starters.”

“But where’s the fun in that? I live for the suspense.” She laughed and rolled her eyes, grateful for Shawn’s friendship and she actually felt at ease for the first time all week. She knew it was only the beginning and she had a long way to go before she could make everything right again.

But this was a start. It was a start from the very bottom. And she was just glad she hadn’t lost everyone on the way down.

“Shut up.”

*

She didn’t stay too long at Brady’s. Once more people started to show up as happy hour rolled around she decided it was a good time to head home, not wanting to be around such a big crowd—especially a drunk crowd.

But it was weird being home. Her apartment felt emptier than she’d anticipated and she felt impossibly alone again. She was at least comforted with the knowledge that there wasn’t anything left in there that would undo all of her progress, as little as it was.

But being alone, she realized, was almost just as bad.

Being stuck with her own thoughts was one of the furthest things on her list of things she wanted to do but she had no real way of avoiding it. And she knew that sooner or later she would have to face it and learn to deal with her mind when it kept going to a bad place, coming to finally realize her own worst enemy was herself.

She kept busy throughout the day, trying to catch up on as much school work as she could after much groveling with her professors for extensions on assignments and makeups for exams she missed. She knew as much as she needed to focus on herself, she couldn’t afford to put her education on the backburner anymore.

It was a lot easier said than done, she learned fairly quickly. The second her mind got a chance all her thoughts would creep back up on her with no warning; all thoughts of weakness and failure and disappointment, how she only hurt the people around her, how she was never good enough for her daughter, for her own parents, for her brother, for Camila. How she spent the last few years of her life wasting them on meaningless things and people that only ever made things worse.

She felt restless, like she needed to get up and keep moving around; doing random menial things to occupy her attention so she wouldn’t focus on her brain telling her that she couldn’t do this again, that she wasn’t enough for the people in her life. She’d feel her heart rate pick up and her breathing get heavier and she’d be overcome with sudden nausea and panic. It came and went in waves. And it was driving her insane.

She cleaned the whole apartment—meticulously, unnecessarily. She put things away, cleaned every surface, did the laundry, tidied up the bedroom, and spent an unbearably long amount of time staring at Camila’s side of it, and that sinking feeling would come back again.

It was sometime around evening and Lauren was busying herself once again in the kitchen. Time was moving so slowly. The day felt like a week and she couldn’t believe it was still only her first day out of rehab.

She turned off the heat on the stove and went into the living room, the first time she actually took a break since she got home and finally felt her body aching. She lifted up her shirt and glanced down at the discoloration still lingering on her stomach and thighs, touching it gently and sighing when it still hurt, praying it would just go away already. She didn’t need the constant reminder.

She reached for her sweatpants, folded up neatly on the arm of the couch, not wanting to see her bruises anymore. Just as she held them out to step into she heard the door of her apartment opening, startling her so much she nearly tripped and fell over.

Because only one other person had the key to the apartment.

“Lauren…” Camila said in surprise, her voice alone causing Lauren’s breath to hitch and her heart to beat faster. She almost completely forgot she wasn’t wearing any pants until Camila’s eyes drifted towards the gross, yellowing bruises blemishing her complexion. She tried not to notice the way she frowned, the way she tried to pretend that she didn’t see anything but it was clear as day, painfully so. “Oh my God.”

Lauren felt her cheeks redden, feeling self-conscious as she fumbled with the waistband of her sweatpants. Camila closed the door behind her and averted her eyes, sensing the other girl’s discomfort despite never being shy before about not wearing pants in front of her. It was such a drastic change from the first time they met in a similar fashion.

“Um…sorry, just…” she mumbled, flustered and clumsy with her words and her movements as she tugged her sweatpants on in haste. “Sorry…I um, didn’t think you’d be here.”

“It’s okay,” she reassured her. It was her apartment after all. And it wasn’t like she’d never seen the girl without pants on before. Hell, she’d seen her naked countless times before. But she understood her need to cover up and she couldn’t help but feel this sick feeling tugging in her stomach at the girl’s injuries, where they were and how they got there, who had done that to her.

A long silence fell between them and a million unanswered questions hung and lingered in the air, making it harder for either of them to breathe. Lauren didn’t know what to say, not having expected the brunette to show up and Camila didn’t think it was possible to form any sort of sentence directed at the green eyed girl without remembering those bruises.

“Uh…” she tried, clearing her throat and shifting on her feet when Lauren didn’t even look at her, just kept staring at the floor nervously. “I just…” As hard as she tried she couldn’t shake the thought. She couldn’t stop seeing the bruises and she blurted out, “Are you okay?”

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up, it’s just…seeing it…I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it,” she let out in a rush, not wanting Lauren to feel more uncomfortable, making her think about something she very obviously wanted to forget.

“No it’s okay, I um…I’m alright, I guess.”

“Are you?” She hated how her voice sounded, hated the fragility of it, hated how it cracked. She shut her eyes and sighed.

“Well I mean…as alright as I can be. I try not to think about it. When I do I just…start thinking too much. And then I kind of get lost in my own head and that’s never a good thing. But aside from…that…I’m okay. For the most part. My parents are happy I agreed to the treatment program.”

“Yeah? How was it?”

“Um…good, I think. I’m sober so I guess that’s all that matters, right?”

“That’s good.” She moved some of her hair behind her ear and looked at the raven haired girl a bit awkwardly. “Any word from your brother?” she asked before she could stop her curiosity. She didn’t want to think she was prying but she knew how upset she was. And her face confirmed it before she opened her mouth.

“No. He…still won’t talk to me.”

“I’m sorry, Lauren. I know how much he means to you. Just keep at it and give him some time; he’ll come around.”

“You really think so?”

“He loves you. Don’t give up.”

“I guess,” she mumbled. “Well, at least my parents are talking to me.”

“Are they letting you see Kayla?”

“Sort of. They still don’t trust me to come home but you know…baby steps, I guess. It’s good though. We’re working on it.”

“Good. I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah…”

“Well, I just came by to feed Fatass again. I figured since you weren’t here and he would need food and water…” she said, taking a new bag of cat food out of the plastic bag she was carrying before finally glancing around the apartment, actually taking in her surroundings. “Wow…it’s really fucking clean in here.”

“Oh uh, yeah…I…I cleaned up…a bit.”

“A bit? I think this is the cleanest I’ve ever seen this place.”

“Yeah well, you know, I was….bored,” she lied, running her fingers through her messy hair. Camila watched her movements, eyed her curiously, and decided not to ask that time. She nodded instead and filled the cat’s bowl with food just as he came by, rubbing his head against her leg affectionately.

Things went quiet again as she put the bag away in one of the kitchen cabinets and neither girl knew what to say after that. It felt strange for both of them, being in the apartment at the same time again with the way things were between them. Camila sort of sensed Lauren’s hesitance, somewhat anticipated it even, and figured it would be best not to push it anymore.

“Um…I should probably-” she started to say but was surprised when she was cut off, Lauren finally looking up at her again.

“Camila wait.” She walked around the couch and the brunette watched as she went over to the table where her school work still was. “I’m actually glad you’re here.” She rummaged through some of the papers until she picked up an envelope and brought it over to her. Camila stared at it in confusion before looking back up at green eyes, hopeful and apologetic. “I, uh…well…here. This is for you.”

“What is this?” she asked, taking the envelope from her hands. She opened it and widened her eyes, finding a large amount of cash in it. She didn’t even bother counting how much was there but she could tell it was a few hundred. “Wow…Lauren, this is…”

“It’s for the guitar. I don’t know if that’s how much it was actually worth but it’s what I got for it. I know it’s not the same and I hate that I can’t get it back…or that I even took it in the first place. I want to make it up to you. And I figured…you know, it’s a good place to start,” she said nervously, and Camila noted it was a strange thing to see. Because Lauren was never shy or nervous.

But she was standing there awkwardly, like she half expected her to yell at her or not accept the money or the apology or tell her to leave her alone. She didn’t really see this coming and she was a bit at a loss for words.

“Please say something,” she pleaded in a quiet, still timid voice when Camila remained quiet. Just staring at the envelope and the money and then back at Lauren. “Or…or don’t. I mean, it’s okay if you’re still mad. And don’t worry about how I got that,” she added quickly. “The money, I mean. I promise…I’m good for it. I had to borrow most of it from my parents. But I told them I wasn’t looking for a handout and that I’d pay them back somehow.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I was going to try getting a job. I mean…I know I only got out today but I think it’s time I be a responsible adult. I can’t live off my parents’ money forever.”

“That’s good. Um…thank you…for this, really,” she told her, slipping the envelope into her bag. Normally she would feel uncomfortable accepting such a large amount of money but the fact of the matter was that Lauren did owe it to her. She just didn’t think she would actually pay her back. “I appreciate it.”

“No, you’re welcome, please it’s yours and it’s long overdue and…and I’m sorry, okay?”

“Okay.” Her voice was gentle, almost like she was afraid of setting something off. She wasn’t sure where to go from there and neither did Lauren. But she figured it was a good start. She didn’t want to have any expectations when it came to Lauren. The last thing she needed or wanted was to get her hopes too high just to be let down again. “Well…I should head out.”

“Oh…okay,” she said, failing miserably at hiding her disappointment. Of course, she didn’t expect the girl to stick around. It was only her first night back; maybe she just wanted to give her space, some alone time to relax and just take it easy. Or maybe she was just trying to convince her that Camila didn’t actually want nothing to do with her.

“Goodnight, Lauren.”

And it was there again. The same feeling when she watched Camila leave her hospital room. The uncertainty that came with it; when would she see her again, when would she talk to her, would she ever bother at all?

“Camila,” she called out before she could even open the door. But unlike when they were in the hospital, she turned around and watched Lauren trying to figure out what to say. She waited—patient as always—and Lauren opened her mouth, felt the air leave her lungs the longer she stared at her. “Please stay.”

“Lauren…”

“I know things are weird between us but…I miss you…and…you live here,” she told her, her voice teetering on the verge of somewhere between pleading and hopeless. Camila remained silent and looked down at the floor, contemplating, until she heard Lauren speak up again. “This is your home.”

And it was those four words. It wasn’t something she thought she would hear, especially from Lauren. But from feeling completely unwelcome and unwanted in her own home to moving in with the green eyed girl only to be met with the same feeling, it unsettled her, made her feel lonelier than she ever thought she could, like she had no place to go.

Hearing Lauren refer to the apartment as theirs was one thing. She’d taken to saying it more recently the closer they got. But hearing her refer to it as her home was something else entirely.

“Okay.”

She said it quietly, so much that Lauren thought she might have misheard her or even imagined it. But she watched as she set her stuff down and take her shoes off. And it wasn’t much, but it was still like a weight off her shoulders. This had to be a good sign, right?

“I um…I made dinner, if you’re hungry,” she offered, walking over to the kitchen almost having forgotten the food she had made before Camila had come home.

“You did? That’s shocking…” she attempted to lighten the mood, which worked a little bit. But she could still tell Lauren was nervous. And she didn’t want her to be. They weren’t supposed to be nervous around each other.

“I mean…it’s just mac and cheese, since we don’t really have much. I need to go food shopping.”

“We can go tomorrow after I get out of work…if you’re not busy,” she offered casually, following her into the kitchen and grabbing a bowl for herself. She completely missed the momentary disbelief before Lauren shook it off, blinking at her dumbly.

“Um…yeah, yeah that’s fine. Sure. Okay.”

“Okay,” she laughed a little, finding it somewhat amusing how careful Lauren was being around her. She wasn’t used to it at all. But it wasn’t the worst thing in the world either, she figured. She grabbed a fork from the drawer before turning around, almost bumping into the cat that hadn’t even bothered to get up from where his food bowl was after finishing. “Speaking of work…you know, if you’re really serious about getting a job I can talk to my manager if you want. At the record store, I mean.”

“Wait…really?”

“Only if you’re serious though. I’m not going to vouch for you if you’re going to half ass it or like…tell customers you were kidnapped again or something.”

“I won’t,” she assured her, even laughed a little. And Camila was glad to hear the sound again.

“Good. He’s always complaining about needing help in the store but never actually does anything about it.”

“No, yeah, that’d be great. Really, thank you, Camz. I know you don’t have to do that…like, at all. But still…thanks.” She offered a smile which the brunette easily returned, nodding silently.

“Don’t mention it.” She grabbed a soda from the fridge before heading over to the living room and taking a seat on the couch. It was weird being home then, having Lauren in the apartment again, actually talking to her again, having her be so…nice. And…quiet. She took a bite of her food, bringing her knees up, before turning her head to find Lauren still standing in the kitchen. “Are you just going to stand there or you going to come sit with me, idiot?”

“Oh!” she said, snapping out of her trance. “Um, yeah, yeah of course.” She wanted to slap herself for how nervous and lame she was being. She wasn’t used to making a fucking fool out of herself in front of her roommate but still, she couldn’t help but smile to herself as she grabbed a bowl of food before walking over to join the brunette on the other side of the couch.

“For what it’s worth, Lauren,” Camila spoke up randomly, before turning Netflix on. She stared straight ahead but could see Lauren glance over at her through the corner of her eye. “I’m glad you went and got help. Not a lot of people can get right back into it after falling off or going through what you did.”

“Well you were right. And my parents were right. And Ally was right. I said I was going to make things better. I need to be better…for my family. And for myself. So I need to make some changes, right?”

“Right,” she smiled again, proud of the girl, despite herself.

The silence that fell between them that time was a comfortable one, for the most part. Camila felt a sort of sense of security being back in a place she could actually call her own and Lauren was still very reserved but at least content knowing Camila would stay.

Lauren was never one for wanting other people around. She had been alone for so long. But she had gotten so used to the other girl’s company she couldn’t deny that things felt weird and wrong with her gone.

And even though things were relatively quiet for the rest of the night, only the occasional light conversation every now and again, it was a start. It was good. And it was enough.

The hours passed as the two simply watched movies together all night until they both fell asleep there on the couch. Camila was the first to wake, not even bothering to check the time before shutting off the TV and getting up to stretch. She put the empty food bowls away in the kitchen and when she came back, Lauren was still curled up, sleeping peacefully on the other side.

Camila fought a smile as she reached for the black throw blanket on the back of the couch, pulling it over the green eyed girl who didn’t even move. And without really thinking about it she leaned over, brushed some of Lauren’s hair back, and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

“Goodnight, Lauren,” she said quietly, the other girl still fast asleep, and headed off to bed.

*    *    *    *

a fast update? my fans are #shook

thank you for the nice comments, they make me smile. i hope you’re all enjoying the story. I’ll try to update in a more timely fashion i know it can get annoying.

any comments questions concerns or complaints my twitter/tumblr is available (@ manhatanproject)

and as always, thanks 4 reading

-lex

[impalafortrenchcoats]

Coming Apart On Top of You : Ch 1

Author: impalafortrenchcoats

Chapter: 1/?

Summary: 

Seokjin is trying to piece together a life while tearing down his past one brick at a time. Namjoon is fighting to build his future while struggling to handle the present. 

It wasn't a very convenient time to fall in love. 

And when the skeletons in the closet are much more literal than most, the challenges of their relationship could prove deadly.

Ships: Namjin, Jikook/Kookmin, Sope/Yoonseok

Categories: Hitmen + Assassins AU, Coffee Shop AU, Non-Linear Storytelling

Chapter Wordcount: 3223

AO3 Link: here

It was late morning in the cafe when the man walked in. The morning swarm had finally cleared, and it was now the quiet before the sad, desperate souls of the afternoon crowd came stumbling in for their pick-me-ups. This was especially true for the pencil-pushers of the surrounding businesses, who came and left in a haze of overworked dead eyes. It really made Hoseok question whether or not to go into business like everyone else. Well, that was a problem for the future.

In the meantime, he was busy killing time, slowly refilling the straw stand one straw at a time, all the while contemplating the next part of his scheme to woo his ever aloof coworker, Yoongi. The first part had gone relatively well. After three months of working together, Yoongi finally knew his name and was no longer fucking it up.

Hoseok indulged in a giant mocha macchiato with coconut milk that day to celebrate.

Now, step two, small talk.

Okay, maybe that was too much. Best not get too greedy. One should always set realistic goals for oneself. Maybe just saying ‘hi’. That sounded good.

As he set about testing out different tones for the procedure, the familiar chime of the door rang and a tall figure ambled into the cafe.

Hoseok brightened when he recognized the man as a regular. He had only been working in the cafe for about five months or so, and he had no idea when the man started coming in for his coffee. But one thing was for sure, the man sure knew how to get the staff’s gossip mill going. A primary contributor to the constant gossip was the fact that, to this day, no one knew the man’s name.

At some point he was just dubbed Tall, Pink, and Handsome by some of the female staff, and the rather apt name stuck.

Nowadays, almost everyone who took his order just scribbled TPH on his cup, and that was the end of that. The man didn't seem to mind, and if the stories were to be believed, had even thrown a ridiculously cute aegyo at the person who had finally explained the meaning to him.

Hoseok was in the minority who decided to have some fun with the nameless one. After some hardcore nosing around and an aggressive application of his sunshiny charm, he had found out that the man had a soft spot for Disney, and the princesses in particular. He now made sure to write down some Disney character’s moniker on the cup, and when possible, he always tried to add a little bit of trivia.

It wasn't something that he would usually do for someone who was essentially a stranger, but Hoseok was good at reading people.

And something told him that the man was due some harmless joy in life.

It was easy to see when the man noticed Hoseok looking his way as he immediately smiled and waved as he made his way over.

Not to be outdone, he did his patented impression of the sun and returned the smile with interest, “Well, look who decided to show up! I was starting to think you were cheating on us with that new coffee shop down the street.”

The man gave a whinnying bark of a laugh before trying to give Hoseok a stern glare. It was completely ruined by the twitching of his lips as he tried to contain the smile, “How dare you question my loyalty, you uncouth rapscallion. I’ll have you know I was on a business trip and was barely holding it together without my beloved coffee. Your coffee beans were haunting my dreams.”

Hoseok snorted at the honestly cringe-worthy melodrama, “Uh-huh. So what’s it going to be today?”

“The usual. I need to get this body back on its usual regime. Something, something, my body, my temple, you know the drill.” He waggled his eyebrows at Hoseok and leaned on the counter, straddling the lines between social dumbass and creepy uncle masterfully.

Hoseok had to roll his eyes before saying, “you are so freaking lame, dude. This is why you're still single, even with that face.”

“Does your manager know you speak this way to your best customer? And I'll have you know I'm hot shit. Civilizations have crumbled for less beautiful faces than this!”

“Let no one tell you you don't have self-confidence.”

“Who needs self-confidence when you got this face?” He even puckered his lips for emphasis.

Hoseok sighed and just called it quits. It was up for debate whether or not this guy was serious, and despite his people reading skills, he truly couldn't say. Instead, he just grabbed a plastic cup and said, “So, one iced almond latte, right?”

The man hummed his approval before trying to lean over the counter to get a better look at the cup. He asked, “What about you? What's it going to be today?”

Hoseok quickly pulled the cup away from view, “Nuh-uh. No peeking! You'll see it when the coffee's done!”

He then proceeded to scribble on the cup for a bit before scuttling off to make the drink. As he went about his business with heating up the milk, he could see the man loitering rather cheerfully by the pastries. The image of the man’s avid interest in the new batch of lobster-decorated cupcakes gave him the perfect inspiration.

He smiled to himself and added a few more scribbles to the side of the cup.

“How about a hint,” the man called. “The anticipation is just killing me.”

“You never heard of ‘delayed gratification’?”

“Wow. ‘Gratification,’ you say? Aren't you confident today. I'll have you know, I've been spoiled. It'll take more that a sad cat doodle and a barely legible ‘Mufasa’ to please me.”

“That’s it. No more business trips for you. You get too uppity after them for any one’s comfort. And what do you mean barely legible!”

“I'm sorry. Your handwriting is no good.”

“You wound me.”

“I'll leave a nice tip?”

“You heal me.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, and when Hoseok finally finished up the latte, he tried to make a heart in the foam, but it ended up looking more like a lopsided pear. Mr. TPH didn't seem to mind and quickly turned the cup around to see his writing.

Ariel

The dress worn at the dinner is a combination of all previous princesses’ dresses.

Hoseok felt the bright smile the man gave him was well worth the effort of trying to fit all that writing onto cup. He took a sip of his latte, before waving his thanks and slipping out the door.

Once again, Hoseok was left alone to wonder about the mysterious TPH. At least, Ruth would be happy to know the man had returned. A significant portion of the staff had been mourning the lack of handsomeness in their work life.

Oh, well. That wasn’t his problem. He really needed to get back to his game plan for Yoongi.

+++

Journal Entry 1

March 21, 2013

Okay, so how am I supposed to do this? This is a journal, just to be clear, not a diary. Fucking Seulji said this shit helps clear thoughts and shit, but I think it's just a girl thing.

Okay, fuck. I don't know. Hi, this is Park Jimin, I'm 21 years old, a dance major, oh, and most importantly, a royal fuck up. So much fucking up to be had, I have sowed and reaped the fruits of my fuckery. My crops of fuck ups is plentiful. Oh my god, this is so stupid. Don't ever listen to Seulji. She's the queen of bad ideas.

HOLY FUCK! This whole thing was her fault; what am I talking about? Okay. You know what?

Summary of my recent fuck up: I may have met the love of my life at the club last night, because shit those legs were to die for, the arms as well, oh my god, his face. Who am I kidding? I met God last night. But I also listened to Seulji, who is the devil, and got fucking wasted. And am pretty sure I told Beautiful that I was flexible as fuck, and I was super down to fuck.

And proceeded to prove my point by kicking my leg up, and basically did a vertical split on the man’s shoulder.

Then, the lovely icing on the cake, I'm pretty sure I barfed all over the poor bastard.

FUCK YOU, SEULJI, THIS IS MAKING THE MEMORY WORSE NOT BETTER!!!!

So, thankfully I don't remember shit after, but according to the she-devil herself, this guy probably really has the patience of God, since he apparently helped her drag my sorry drunk ass home.

And now, I will end my misery with ice-cream because fuck you, Seulji, journals don't fucking help.

Worst part is, I won't ever see Beautiful, again, and I'm hungover and don't even have the sore ass to at least say I got a decent lay for my troubles.

I hate my life.

+++

The entire office building was supposed to be empty by this time of night. It was nearing 2 AM, so the fact a lone glowing computer screen was lit in a sea of black screens was an anomaly in and of itself. However, the eerie cast of the light from the screen as well as the dim glow of the exit signs and secondary lighting system made the figure seated in front of a computer seem otherworldly in appearance.

Given the time, the man seemed unusually alert despite his eyes appearing glued to the screen in front of him. He sat with his back straight, motionless - waiting. The silence and stillness permeated everything in the sprawling emptiness of the office space. And time seemed almost frozen.

Then, in the distance, growing slowly but just as ominously and relentlessly as the sound of an oncoming train, echoes of screams drifted into the room, rising from the floors below.

It kept building, and the closer and louder it became, the muted blasts of gunshots and thuds of falling bodies became easily identifiable to the man’s ears.

Everything reached a crescendo, and as quickly as it came, the noises disappeared and silence rang once more.

The man let out a slightly shaky breath, but his face remained impassive as ever.

It was not until a ding from the hallway behind him alerted him to the arrival of the elevator and the subsequent hissing signaled the opening of said elevator doors, that the man finally moved, although it was just to take off his glasses and pinch the bridge of his nose.

Without looking, he spoke, “You’ve really gone and made a mess of things, haven’t you.”

Silence answered him, but this time punctuated by the hair-raising feel of eyes on his back.

He sighed and continued, “I've been waiting for you. Figured you would come here first.”

He didn't expect a reply. Instead, with slow and precise motion, he tugged a USB drive from the computer and placed it to the side, away from him, all the while still not turning around.

“I tried to warn you. Headquarters always know; they always find out. If anything, I was surprised you all managed to keep it quiet for as long as you did.”

Just as he finished speaking, a hand came to rest on his shoulder, sitting uncomfortably close to his neck. He was made all the more aware of the dire circumstances by the thumb running slow, easy circles on the back of his neck.

He swallowed again, “For what it's worth, they didn't hear it from me.”

Finally, he received a response. A soft masculine voice answered him at last, speaking in an unnaturally light tone. If anything, he felt he could almost imagine the gentle smile on the other man’s face, “I know.”

It was readily clear that this was the only reason why they were even speaking, and that he wasn't another casualty to the night.

“What are you doing here, Onew?” The man’s tone was still light, almost jovial, as if this was a surprise run-in with an old friend at the grocers.

Onew would have tried to relax more if the tang of fresh blood wasn't clinging to the other man like an overbearing cologne.

“I wanted to give you this,” Onew indicated the USB. “Everything you want is there. Locations of all offices and safe houses, the comprehensive list of everyone employed, everything you would ever need to wipe them from existence.”

There was a pause, then the other man gave a short laugh.

Onew stiffened when the next words out of the man’s mouth were right next to his ear, his breath tickling the side of Onew’s cheek, “Thank you very much. But I can't help but wonder why you're doing this.”

Ignoring the beads of sweat trickling down his forehead, Onew tried to keep his voice steady as he answered, “My team. I want you to spare my team. We won't stop you; I'll take them out of this, I swear.”

The man hummed, the sound resonating through Onew from their proximity, “That would be a little incriminating for you, wouldn't it?”

“Then you would just have to be a dear and kill them all for me, if it's not too much trouble.”

He finally backed away with a snort, “Never thought you were the gambling sort.”

“Never thought I was either. Key thinks this is a suicide mission you're on.”

“How did you manage to convince him to go along with this?”

“I figure I would just say sorry later.”

Silence took hold of the room once more, and Onew waited on bated breath for the man’s decision. He almost wept in relief when, from the corner of his eye, he watched a hand take the drive.

“When I come for them, make sure you and your team are gone. If I see any one of you -”

“You won't.”

The hand on his shoulder patted him.

“How long do we have?” He couldn't help but ask.

“Now, now, Onew. That would be telling.”

Onew nodded. He didn't want to push his luck, this had already gone better than he had hoped. He felt the man back away, so he went to pick up his glasses.

“Oh, and sorry about the mess.”

Pausing in confusion for a moment, Onew put on the glasses and glanced to the side, taking in the dark, bloody handprint on his shoulder.

He shrugged, “It was an ugly shirt, anyway.”

As he listened to the man’s retreating footsteps, Onew turned to face him for the first time that night.

“Seokjin-ah,” he called and he waited for the figure to turn. “Please don't fuck this up.”

The man just smiled and nodded before disappearing into the elevator.

Onew sighed. Now he just had to figure out how to break the news to the rest of the guys.

+++

Good evening.

Tonight ten are dead after a fire broke out at a local office building on the outskirts of Seoul, bordering Namyangju. The building is one of many ran by Ayao Industries, a local shipping company owned by founder and CEO Lee Beomsoo.

The incident occurred in the early morning hours, when a skeleton crew had been reworking the building’s wiring in preparation for an upcoming remodel. According to the company spokesman, Cha Hakyeon, the fire had started when faulty wiring combined with materials on scene had resulted in the explosion which killed the men. Mr. Cha made it clear that all company personnel are cooperating with local officials as investigations continue.

Concerns regarding whether or not the building was up to code are central to the investigation.

This tragedy follows in the aftermath of another as Mr. Lee and family are still reeling from the loss of their son, Lee Byunghun, in a tragic car accident just three days prior.

Despite personal hardships, Mr. Lee remains adamant the company’s expansion efforts will continue, and construction on overseas offices in Vietnam will remain on schedule. The new location will be dedicated to his late son upon completion.

+++

Journal Entry 2 (Am I supposed to be numbering these?)

March 25, 2013

TALL, DARK, AND BEAUTIFUL SHOWED UP AT MY WORK TODAY!!!!

Apparently, I drunkenly invited him to the book signing, and Seulji gave him the details when I passed out.

Seulji. I may owe this girl some money. A lifetime of alcohol. My first born child. Nah, too much.

But I fucking owe her. O-W-E!

Can I just say drunk me is lame as fuck, though. A book signing? Really? They're giving out free snacks here, but I'm coming off as a real cheapskate, starving college student status notwithstanding.

Fuck, but the guy is hot as fuck. Like gorgeous. So, I already mentioned the hot bod. Like muy caliente. Burn me with your fire, hot, right? But, come on, I’m a realistic guy, and I know it could have been a combination of the club lighting and my beer goggles.

No. Not at all. Nope. He’s not just hot. He’s ADORABLE. He’s got these giant doe eyes and this boopable nose! Does he know he’s lethal cute! Like, he has this kind of face that should be dopey, but he fucken dodged that with a hard pass and slammed straight into wet dreams territory.

Basically, I don't know what he's doing coming to my crappy little bookstore really. Although, he did seem a bit out of touch. Who in their right mind would be that interested in hearing me talk about stocking books. He was probably just humoring me, honestly. I mean it's not much but it pays, not much I can do about that until I graduate. We can't all be international photographers or whatever.

At least I think that's what he does. We ended up ditching the book signing and he took us to dinner. I noticed some equipment in the backseat of the car and some camera stuff. It had gotten kind of awkwardly quiet, so I decided to break the silence by asking him if he had just come back from a shoot.

I think if there are any future outings, I might just have to suggest public transit because he clearly wasn't one of those guys who could multitask talking and driving. The guy almost missed a turn and drove straight into oncoming traffic. Yeah. I wasn't down for that kind of life. No Fast and Furious for this Jimin.

Also, he seemed kind of mad I asked. Though, A+ for hot side glare. I would put up with inexplicable mood swings, if I got to look at those eyes when things got hot and heavy.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not easy, but a guy’s got to be honest with himself. And I've dated enough art sorts to know they could be moody.

He wanted clarification apparently, so I had to explain the camera and what not. Maybe he really didn't want to be confused with the film sort. Who knows with these art guys.

Dinner was amazing, and he paid. I think I'm in love.

Feed me. That's all I ask.

Aw, shit. I am easy.

Only down side of the evening was the lack of a kiss. I feel like a kiss after getting dropped off would be mandatory after our rocky start.

Considering the disastrous meet cute, there was no point to being coy now. I want my kiss, damn it.

Whatever. I got his number.

Now, I just have to check the bank and see if I could afford something nice for Seulji. She deserves it.

I take back calling her a she-devil.

+++

“Well? What is your plan for the situation?”

“We had our people on clean up. The fire destroyed most of the evidence. Even if something slips, we have some of the investigators in our pocket. The public won’t know the truth.”

“I really don't give a fuck about the public. How do we get rid of our little problem?”

“You say ‘little problem,’ I say ‘critical disaster.’ I don't think you're taking this situation as seriously as should be warranted.”

“He's one man.”

“He's one of our best men.”

“You said he could be trusted.”

“It seems I was wrong.”

“And now you're saying you can handle it.”

“I will.”

“Let's hope you're not wrong, again.”

SPECIAL THANKS TO:

juvi-lockster, dharyism, and allourheroes for cleaning up my mess!

Next Part: here

[ravenvsfox]

14. “How can I hate someone that I’m in love with?” Andreil. I am ready for angst (such Christmas spirit, wow)

14. “How can I hate someone that I’m in love with?” (Hi there I combined this with another request, so this is the sequel to my 99 prompt with Neil getting hurt !!)

“All they had in the tooth-rotting section at the corner store was coffee crisp and triple fudge so I got both,” Neil announces, shouldering their door open with his hands full of ice-cream tubs and an array of keys.

He’s taken to wearing them on a lanyard like a school teacher, and Andrew knows he does it because he wants them at hand, near his heart. Renee bought him a fox charm and it hangs between the key to the court and the first one Andrew ever gave him — he’s memorized the shape of it without trying to.

Kevin glances at Neil over the screen of his laptop and stands immediately, walking wordlessly to his room. He retreats to his bedroom whenever Andrew and Neil are in a room together, lately. ‘A precautionary measure’ he’d sneered when Nicky had asked.

“Is that okay?” Neil says, suddenly standing above Andrew, head cocked.

“It’s acceptable,” Andrew replies, and opens his hand. Neil presses the triple fudge into his palm, and produces a plastic spoon from the shopping bag to balance on top.

“I figured you wouldn’t want to wait,” he explains, mouth quirked.

Andrew ignores him, hooking his finger in the plastic seal and breaking it apart. Neil collapses into the couch next to him, tossing his feet up over Andrew’s lap and dropping the bag on the carpet. Andrew looks at him. “It’ll melt.”

“Eat fast,” Neil says, and grabs Andrew’s first spoonful for himself.

“I should’ve let the FBI take you.”

“You should’ve,” Neil says seriously, “Now I’m your problem full-time.” He leans in enough that Andrew can see the chocolate in the corner of his mouth, the complicated relationship between his freckles and his burns —

“Andrew!”

He’s yanked back to the present by Nicky’s frantic voice, a high discordant thing like a wrong note in a bad piece of music. The rest of the foxes crest over the slant of the hallway, a wave of good intentions that pushes Andrew back into the wall and takes his breath. He can’t deal with them, he can’t escape to somewhere else when prying voices are trying to keep him here. He can’t be fighting to see Neil with foxes holding his hands behind his back.

“What’s the news,” Allison asks when they’re close enough, looking uncharacteristically haggard with her lipstick wearing away and her shirt untucked.

Andrew shakes his head.

“He’s not…” Dan starts to ask, horrified, and Andrew’s fists clench so hard his knuckles crack.

“No,” Matt says firmly. “The monster would be ripping this place apart.”

Andrew produces a knife instantly, and renee catches his wrist, eyes hard and terrible above her smile. “You’re going to get yourself kicked out of the hospital.”

He hates it, he hates it, because it’s the only thing that could’ve made him stop.

He drops the knife on the floor and Renee quietly stoops to pick it up and pocket it.

“He’s going to be okay, Andrew,” Nicky says earnestly, skirting carefully around Renee to stand in front of him.

“He’s survived worse,” Kevin agrees, an old haunted look on his face.

“Don’t,” Andrew says. It’s all he can manage.

There’s a knife in his chest and Neil has the handle; if he dies now the blade never comes out. If he dies it won’t matter how much armour Andrew puts on, the knife is already in, always.

“It must suck to be in love with a bullseye,” Allison says, and Dan shoots her a look. “It’s Baltimore all over again,” she continues. Her mouth is a smile put on backwards. Her coping method is to take the thorns out and face them in the opposite direction.

Renee easily stands between Andrew and Allison but Andrew waves her off. “How can I hate someone that I’m in love with?”

“Love and hate are brothers,” Aaron says darkly, kicking at a chair viciously before meeting Andrew’s eye.

“Oh yeah?” Allison says. “Which one are you?”

“Allison,” Renee warns, grabbing her hand.

“I’m tired of them. I’m not listening to this backwards hyper-aggressive shit they do when Neil’s dying next door.”

“Renee will not be enough to save you if you keep talking,” Andrew says evenly. “None of them will be.”

“That sounded a lot like a threat,” Allison says cooly, stepping forward so that her front is pressed into Renee’s back. She’s still a wall between them, but Allison’s starting to look more and more like a battering ram.

“How observant,” Andrew says. It’s actually affecting him for once, this messy thing the team does: hurting each other so there’s someone that feels the same way they do.

Allison tries to step forward again, towering over Renee and Andrew in her 6-inch stilettos. Renee digs in her heels just as a grizzled doctor in navy scrubs steps up warily to their group.

“For Neil Josten?” he asks, eyes darting between them and settling on Andrew with hazy recognition.

“That’s us,” Matt says, stepping forward and putting one placating hand on Allison’s shoulder.

“He’s in surgery now, stable at the moment,” he starts, and everyone looks at each other, daring someone else to be the first to risk relief. “One of his broken ribs caught his lung, and that was causing his difficulty breathing. Obviously the break in his arm was pretty messy, but it’s been set now, no worries there. The worst of it is his ruptured spleen, which triggered some internal bleeding; one of our best is trying to fix that up right now—“

“What are his credentials?” Kevin asks, arms crossed.

“I beg your pardon?” The doctor looks towards the doorway he came from and back again, clearly intimidated.

“The surgeon.”

“He’s an attending,” the man says slowly. “More than qualified. Neil’s in good hands.”

“Is his arm going to heal?”

“His arm,” the doctor repeats.

“Is he going to be able to play exy again?” Kevin asks frankly.

Andrew takes him to the wall by the neck so quickly that no one can even react.

“Ask another useless question,” Andrew dares, and pulls Kevin away from the wall so he can slam him back into it. One by one, brutal hands come to his elbows to peel him away. He lets go of Kevin, shakes them off, and stalks right up to the doctor instead. His rage is so present that the 10 inch height discrepancy between them tightens into nothing. “When can we see him?”

“He’s only just gone into surgery, so I’d come back tomorrow—“

Andrew closes his eyes and presses a new knife up into the doctor’s ribs, blind.

“Andrew, holy shit,” Matt says. There’s the usual shift of the air in the room when everyone seems to re-realize what he’s capable of.

“When can I see him,” Andrew amends, pushing in enough that the blade breaks through his scrub top.

The doctor has his hands up in an instant. “There are policies, I can’t. I’m sorry I can’t break them,” he says, panicked.

“Who can?” Andrew asks, and recoils at the feeling of his teammates’ hands on him again. He steps back, shoulders taut, stomach twisting.

“Take it up with the head of surgery,” he says quickly, backing away. “Neil’s holding up for now, but he’s in rough shape. Prepare yourselves.” He disappears behind the ‘staff only’ door as fast as he can, darting looks over his shoulder the whole time.

“What the fuck are we supposed to do now?” Aaron asks, eyeing the door.

Dan sighs. “Wait, I guess.”

“I’ve heard this is a good place for that,” Nicky jokes weakly, pointing at the ’waiting room’ sign in grey and white.

Andrew leaves the room immediately, ignoring Kevin calling after him, Allison saying something sarcastic, his brother’s eyes on his back. He kicks the door to the stairwell open and climbs until he runs out of stairs. The rooftop is off limits but unlocked, so he walks out into the evening, one arm band uncomfortably light without a knife, his mind uncomfortably full without Neil.

He walks to the very edge and looks down, considering the way the fear tastes completely different from the one he’s been grappling with since Aaron called him. Losing Neil isn’t the same as losing himself off the edge of a rooftop. A fear of heights is a kind of deadly anticipation, but Neil in surgery is like already falling and making contact with the ground over and over again.

He needs him alive, but everything Andrew has is breakable, and he should know that by now.

He stays on the roof for a long time, crosslegged on the precipice of a fall, his cellphone face-up at his side.

It’s well into the night when he gets a text from Aaron, just a single word:

Alive.

Andrew gets up so fast he almost topples over the edge, and he feels a burn of relief he shouldn’t be allowing himself to feel.

Baltimore was bad because he was learning a feeling he’d never had before. But he’s been living with it now: the persistence of feeling, the weight of someone next to him in bed that he had invited there. Neil dying now, after giving him that, would drive him off the next roof he found himself on.

He walks back down to recovery, dodging gurneys and fast-walking nurses. There’s no security posted at the door, and it’s almost too easy to slip through into a room full of post-surgery patients in various stages of drug-induced sleep.

It’s impossible to miss the shock of auburn hair against crisp white pillows.

Neil is closest to the window, his face shockingly pale in the 4 AM dawn that’s trying to wriggle its way into the room. It’s unnerving to see him so silent, just another face above a nondescript gown.

Andrew’s own face twists, he can feel it. Everything condenses to the eyes that aren’t open, the elbow to wrist encased in plaster, the new scar down Neil’s front where there were strange hands in him.

He walks to his bedside and tugs on his hair. “You’re a liar.”

All those ‘I’m here for good’s and ‘where would I go’s are all exactly as empty as Andrew thought they were.

If Neil were awake he would say, “you knew that,” or something equally banal. He would make Andrew want to speak, to prove him wrong. He would extinguish this pointless fire in Andrew’s chest.

The door behind him opens and a woman walks in with her eyes down. Andrew doesn’t look away from Neil’s lax face, but he can still sense the moment the person notices him, the shuffle in her halting steps.

“You can’t be in here.”

“I’m staying,” Andrew says, unfazed.

She makes an indignant noise. “Leave or I’ll call security.”

Andrew makes a go ahead gesture, and combs his hand through Neil’s hair. She walks straight back out of the room with a self-righteous boost in her step.

“Wake up,” Andrew says at Neil. He stays still and sick and unreachable. The nurse comes back in with a guy in uniform, both of them looking stern, coming at him with their arms raised. Andrew lets them come. “I’m staying,” he repeats.

The woman makes a tsk-ing sound. “He seems stable.” She picks up his chart and frowns. “He’s not going to come out of anesthesia for a while yet. We’re going to have to ask you to go back to the waiting room until he’s fit for visitors.”

“If he’s breathing, he’s fit.”

“I think we’ll decide that,” the woman says, and holds out her hand like he might take it.

“I’m,” Andrew says looking at her hand and then back at Neil, “staying.”

“Jeff,” she sighs.

“Alright son,” the security guard says, reaching for Andrew. He neatly dodges his slow hand and takes the guard’s legs out from under him with a swift kick. The woman is out of the room before he’s even properly hit the floor, calling out shrilly into the hallway for reinforcements.

It takes more security than they have on the whole floor to wrestle Andrew out of the room, and when they do it is only as far as the waiting room again, back into the relieved and disapproving arms of David Wymack.

“You keep him under control or he’s going to be escorted from the premises,” someone says, Andrew’s not keeping track of who. It’s clear Wymack’s been negotiating because that’s all the reprimanding he gets, manhandling and insult-flinging aside.

“Your starting striker got run over, did you hear?” Andrew asks, and Wymack frowns.

“I heard. I also heard he survived, but that doesn’t seem to have had any effect on your crazy.”

“Breathing does not equal surviving,” Andrew says. “I will believe it when he can tell me himself.”

“You know he’ll just lie,” Wymack says, mouth twitching.

“I can hear the ‘I’m fine’s now,” Nicky jokes.

“How did he look?” Matt interrupts, eyebrows low and furrowed.

Andrew considers, looking at the wall when he replies, “unresponsive.” It’s clipped and unhelpful, but it’s clearly more than anyone expected, from the way Matt nods and shrugs and Wymack raises both eyebrows.

They fall back in line, sitting and fetching coffee and watching the clock. Mid-morning meanders back into the hospital, and the noise goes from a lapping tide to a choppy sea.

It’s 10 AM before some intern comes to fetch them, glancing at Andrew over and over as they explain the situation: how Neil had woken up an hour ago in extraordinary pain, how they’d doped him up and he’d fought against it, trying to stay awake for reasons they couldn’t understand.

“Which one of you is Andrew?”

Andrew says nothing, but everyone looks at him. The intern looks horrified. “Oh, well. He’s asking for you. All of you, but we said he could choose two visitors to start and he just said, well. You. Your name. He’s a little dopey.”

The foxes start to react but Andrew’s already walking past the intern, she has to sprint after him to keep up. “Wait hey, I’ll— I mean, I’ll take you there.”

She steers him in the opposite direction, past a handful of swinging doors and through the labyrinth of identical hallways.

His steps get faster the longer he walks, and he’s starting to think the knife in him is actually a hook on the end of a reel that Neil’s winding up.

He bursts into Neil’s private room all at once. He catches a glimpse of Neil’s focused brows, his too-blue eyes narrowed, and then his face opens all the way up, a pull on a bow that comes all undone.

“I survived,” he calls out, wiggling the fingers in his left hand at Andrew. His face is untouched by the chaos of his latest near-death experience and Andrew can’t stop looking at it.

“For now.”

“For you,” Neil says, voice hollow like the gaping rafters of a cathedral are hollow. It’s the meds, Andrew knows. It’s the morphine pulling ideas at random from Neil’s head, but he looks so calm and self-assured that Andrew can’t help putting their foreheads together.

“Stop. Doing this.” His voice is so heavy. He almost can’t carry it on his tongue.

“How else would I know how much you care,” Neil says, not really joking at all. Andrew doesn’t reply, he’s busy smelling the tang of blood and feeling his anger becoming unwieldy in his hands.

“I hate you,” Andrew says fervently. “I wish you had died.”

“I know,” Neil says, moving his face so that their cheeks are pressed together. It’s the only point of contact Andrew had offered and Neil is milking it. “You’re going to have to deal with me for a little longer.”

“And what if I’m done?”

He feels Neil’s ghost of a smile against his cheek. “You’re not.”

Andrew’s eyes burn and his chest shakes with rage and he holds Neil’s head like it’s everything that matters.

(It is, it is, it is.)

[ifridiot]

Take Anything You Need

FicLink

LMAO god. Take Anything You Need was a very simple idea -- Henry tried to move on from Frank and got sucked right back into his bullshit the second he reappeared in his life and finds himself grateful and that Frank genuinely wants him there. 

But I love tropes and melodrama, and im a self-indulgent little creacher, and so we ended up with 31k words of forced road trip, miscommunication, and bed-sharing. 

Excerpts and author’s commentary under the cut because... lmao yeah, this got long.

the idea that started me rolling was in the first chapter:

He grabs the smoke grenade, pulls the pin. Whips it into the fray; he feels lucky when it lands between the cop and the rest of them, rapidly spewing thick, obfuscating smoke.

Frank’s gun fires into the growing cloud. Another man drops, dead before he hits the floor. The cop shouts a curse and backs away, lost in the rapidly expanding smoke. Henry is on his knees. Everything is in slow motion except Henry’s heartbeat; he feels like he’s right on the edge of a panic attack. Frank shoots again; someone curses, rough and furious. Henry is on his feet. Frank turns, stumbles. Not bad, but enough.

If he kills Henry, he can at least wait until after Henry gets him the fuck out of here. Henry catches roughly two hundred pounds of beef against his shoulder, providing support. Frank’s body feels so hot against him, and Henry feels more than a little sick with himself for finding himself satisfied, pleased on some level at how easy this still is. How his body just remembers holding Frank's weight, taking the lead as he half-drags, half-guides Frank beyond the lobby, into the back, away from the screaming while the rest of the room is panicking.

The really shocking thing, forgetting that Frank shouldn't be here in the first place, is how Frank allows it.

I loved the idea of Henry not being able to help himself from jumping in to help Frank. Ostensibly they’ll both think of this moment as part of Frank saving Henry during the hostage scene, and God knows if Henry had let Frank got shot and/or arrested everything would have worked out for Frank anyway because he has Main Character Syndrome and refuses to die or stay dead. 

But this moment where Henry, who has worked so hard to move on and grow up and away from Frank’s bullshit, sees him in trouble and can’t help himself but get involved... this moment where he makes a choice, going so far as to say ‘even if he kills me, getting him out of here safely is the right thing to do’.

It was just a GREAT moment for me, writing-wise. It was such a lot of fun.

Another scene that was really great in the first chapter and was in the initial outline was:

The muzzle pressed against his jaw is warm, there's a thick, acrid smell to the heated metal that makes Henry feel immediately nauseous. Frank's grip on him, the arm slung over his shoulder, gets tighter, even though Frank is still using Henry for the bulk of his support.

All of it makes Henry want to struggle, bolt, run, but he doesn't. He can't -- even if he could somehow slip Frank's grip, Frank needs his help and Henry can't run from that. He just can't.

Bursting through the back door, Henry feels the shift of Frank's grip, the way he puts more of his weight on his own legs and how that must hurt. Frank's gun suddenly isn't just nestled against Henry's jaw, it's shoved there, Frank's hold on him more of a threat than anything and Henry scrambles at the arm clutching around him, holding his body against Frank like a shield.

It's an act, Henry tries to tell himself; it's all an act, Frank's in on it, they're both in on it, he's safer now than he was just ten minutes go. It's not real, Frank's not actually a hairsbreadth from ventilating Henry's skull.

Still, when one of the predicted cops -- there's only two of them, thank fuck -- cocks his gun, the sound Henry makes is more a sob than anything, and he didn't even have to try for that high note of panic.

"Don't shoot, don't shoot, please, god," He babbles, leaning against Frank until he takes the hint and starts inching in the direction Henry's straining, even as he's panting and eyeing the cops, every bit the wild-eyed crazy gunman the news media loves to paint him as. "Please, don't shoot, god, don't --"

Henry feels it when Frank yanks the gun away from his face; the drag of warm metal against the blade of his jaw, the bunch and ripple of Frank’s massive arms as he adjusts his grip. Frank straightens up and suddenly Henry’s feet aren’t even on the ground, and his fingers aren’t clawing at Frank as a ruse anymore at all. Frank swings the gun at the cops and both of them jump out of the way. Before either recovers, Frank drags Henry around the corner and sets him on his feet.

Leans on him, like nothing just happened.

Like... my god, what a glorious little bit of overwrought drama here. When i thought i could contain this fic to five simple chapters with three main beats, this scene was one of the two that everything else was propped up around to support.

the scene i was really writing for, though, was in chapter five. It’s equally the first kiss:

... Frank pulls him in, gentle but inescapable, and kisses him, and it’s -- it’s like flipping on a light in a dim room. It’s like understanding.

Henry’s kissed a lot of men, and he’s fantasized about kissing Frank plenty of times, a few times while kissing those men. It’s a part of himself he accepted and left alone because there was no real way to address it, and trying to kill it felt dishonest. However much he’s thought about it, however many other times he’s done similar with others, nothing prepares him for the reality of being drawn in this way, Frank’s thin lips parting against his own, the low, considering noise Frank makes before sucking Henry’s tongue into his mouth.

It’s a lot. It’s more than he knows what to do with, and Frank is so much more patient than Henry would have anticipated. He doesn’t push or drag at Henry, and when Henry carefully climbs onto the bunk, kneeling beside Frank rather than getting in his lap because he doesn’t want to hurt Frank, Frank just shifts his weight and makes space, turning his face up when Henry curls both hands against his jaw, and carries on kissing him, like that pause was the most natural in the world.

and this glorious chunk of miscommunication lmao:

All of it is so much better than Henry would ever have dared to dream. Frank tastes bitter and salty through his underwear, and Henry's eager now to get him bare because the taste will be so much more potent without cotton in the way. He feels dizzy with it all, the strength of his want and the thrill of it being Frank, truly Frank, under his hands, letting him set the pace.

Then, Frank's hand slides along the back of his neck and down, curling against his shoulder and pushing gently with this weak, resigned noise. Henry can hear all too clearly when Frank says, "Stop. Stop, just -- get up, stop."

Frank's hand on his shoulder is as gentle pushing him away as it is impossible to fight, and Henry is lost at first, confused, all that brilliant exhilaration in his chest crumbling to ash. It's amazing, really, how much rejection from Frank still hurts.

"You, shit, Henry, don't -- you don't deserve this, get up."

Words hit like a kick to the face, made worse somehow by Frank's tone, by the bitter, almost regretful twist in them. He sounds like he doesn't want to say this, but he has to, and that's a real laugh, isn't it? Frank's made is abundantly clear that he doesn't have to do anything he doesn't want.

Henry doesn't -- he can’t understand this. He never understands what the fuck is going through Frank's head, least of all where he himself is concerned. He'd been right before -- there was no knowing Frank, and doesn't that just drive the idea home? Frank, bringing out this casual cruelty in tones that make it obvious he's trying to sugar coat the message with some fucked-up, Frank-style kindness.

You don't deserve this.

That's what it boils down to, isn't it? That's what it always is going to be, that -- that Henry fundamentally falls short. In every area that he could be useful for, he never quite makes up for all the shit that's obnoxious. He'll never be what Frank needs him to be -- what anyone needs him to be.

Henry's not enough. He's not strong enough, not good enough, not smart or brave or tough enough to be worth Frank taking the risk of letting in close. Keeping close.

He tries not to take it personally. Who the fuck the could measure up to whatever sky-high standard Frank's got? It's not the first time someone's told Henry they didn't want him after all before things got too hot and heavy, either, so maybe it's not even just Frank, maybe it's -- maybe--

He tries not to take it personally, but he knows well enough, jerking out of the too-gentle grip of Frank's hand against his shoulder, that he's not good enough to manage that, either.

Like wow, holy fuck lmao. I LOVE this. I HATED writing it because getting the words even this good was super tough for me (i love melodrama but i’m much better at the ‘everything just sort of works out’ kind of story telling), but i LOVE the result, I love the slap of Frank pulling away and the immediate dissolving of Henry’s feel good mood and self confidence. like Henry... my man, my dude, my buddy, take a deep breath. 

The other scene i super wanted to write was the scene in the cornfield, which is pretty much all of chapter six. 

Specifically:

"I said it wrong," Frank says carefully, voice quiet and almost soft again. "But I meant everything I said."

On reflex, Henry struggles again, just for a second. There's heat building on his face and he feels vicious, snarling, "You said I wasn't good enough to suck your dick, you arrogant --"

"That's what you heard!” Frank snaps, every bit as irritable as Henry again. Henry can feel the fingers at his throat tense, but it's... strange. Frank doesn't actually choke him, or even come close to it. The hold he's got on Henry is carefully calibrated to immobilize without really hurting him, and it stays that way. "Use your goddamn brain, what else did I say to you back there? You really think I was trying to insult you?"

...

"Said I appreciated what you've been doin' for me," Frank says, and he's got his face tucked against the back of Henry's head now, like he wants this to be something softer, and that shameful unease is blossoming into a full grown horror, now. "I meant that. And I said you didn't deserve what I was letting happen there, and I meant that too."

Henry's not sure he's ever experienced a more mortifying realization than this. Frank Castle is being the emotionally rational voice of reason. 

He slumps into Frank's grip fully, wishing that he could just black out. Or collapse into dust. Sublimate into a fine mist and blow away on the warm morning breeze.

"You deserve better than kneeling in my old trash and suckin' me off in the back of a van," Frank continues, and there's the warmth Henry's been missing, burning across his face. That's very possibly the closest to a romantic sentiment Henry can imagine coming out of Frank's mouth.

It's nearly unbearable, a degree of mortification Henry's uncertain he can physically survive. Without thinking, he raises his hand again, resting it on Frank's forearm when he starts to move his hand away from Henry's neck. When Henry tries to turn his head, Frank lets him go entirely, but not before brushing his lips against Henry's temple, because evidently even in this Frank's instinct is to go for the kill.

LOVE a moment of Frank being tender and also the fact that this is happening in the wee hours of the morning in a cornfield in the middle of summer in Wisconsin. Like just chef’s kiss to myself. 

Honestly, Take Anything You Need is one of my favourite fics of all time. Not just written this year but like... i’m closing in on two decades of fic writing, and this is one of the very best I’ve ever done. Thrilled with it. Wish more people were interested in it because it’s a really fun fic and I think i did well with it lmao, but that’s the tragedy of a rarepair. 

[californiaquail]

sorry for doom posting i guess but i think this is going to be a really really awful four years and consequent several decades with whatever cretins he puts on scotus. and the 70 million people who helped accomplish this are going to somehow become even more completely fucking insufferable