#you sent this in a couple days ago and i have been STEWING over this

[agent-mcsweetheart]

I once saw someone saying that in Redemption, the team basically have superpowers, and that feels true to me. Every con in the og could be pulled off by anyone with the right skill, maybe an insane amount of skill, but still.

Also it feels like they took Parker from realistic (if possibly accidental) autistic person, to doing weird things for the sake of it. Like stabbing watermelons for no reason and going to a child therapist? They took away a lot of her maturity.

Here is the thing about Parker. In Leverage, she does some wild stuff. She is written in such a way that she is absolutely not neurotypical. Which means, she isn’t great at social situations (Juror Number 6 Job). She copes in a certain way (There are so many options for this actually). She doesn’t like when her routine is disrupted (Mile High Job, Ice Man job). But all of those things that make her ✨quirky✨ and a little bit insane are a mask. We actually know that she is incredibly observant. She does have emotions and we see them play out in a lot of fascinating ways. She is mature, BUT she chooses to act a certain way as a protective measure for herself. We KNOW that she can handle actual situations. So when she doesn’t have to be entirely serious, she will be a little bit weird so that she can still protect herself.

Redemption is not that. Redemption has her just being a little insane for the sake of being a little insane. Redemption doesn’t know what to do with the incredibly complex characters it picked up. They fundamentally misunderstand them and it just comes off as Parker being insane little gremlin.

[sabraeal]

don't speak boyshit, Chapter 10

[Read on AO3]

It’s not that Kamitami waits around for Kashima. People get that shit twisted all the time, thinking that they’re joined at the hip just because they’re in the same club a couple days a week, or have stupid kid brothers that like to run around together, or because he acted like some sort of emotional support dog for the first few months after that kid came to the academy. But that’s not why he lingers at the bike rack after practice, fussing at the gears as Kashima herds the skinny little bean sprout that passes for Kotaro out the school doors.

No, it’s because when he gets up, casually dusting off his uniform pants like this is all a happy accident, like he only just saw them wandering down the walkway with a purpose and not whole minutes ago, all he has to say is, “Heading out?” and Kashima replies, “Oh, Kamitani! I didn’t see you there! I guess if you don’t mind.”

He grunts at that, grumbles a bit, but that’s the thing— he doesn’t. Most people are effort, expecting him to do shit like talk and be nice— like he doesn’t have a dozen other things he’d rather be doing than shooting the shit with the boneheads in his class, or being cornered by a bunch of girls who think giggles are a good way to carry a conversation. But Kashima can keep one up all by himself, not expecting anything more than a grunt to tell him to keep going. All those nerds that study physics might say that perpetual motion is impossible, but that’s only because they’ve never seen Kashima on a real jag before midterms. Kid doesn’t even need air sometimes.

He’s quiet today though, letting Kotaro off his leash enough to scramble through some bushes. At least, as long as they stand there, staring at the quivering branches like they have any idea what that kid is up to in there. Which is fine with him; if he can’t count kids then he won’t feel that weird missed-step pitch and roll in his stomach, like something’s missing. Like it’s weird that Taka isn’t in orbit around him, some puny little moon determined to crash right into his planet’s surface, instead of the only thing he’d wanted for the last five years.

Kashima shifts like he might feel it too, like he’s done the mental math and come up one body short of normal. But he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t fill the air with chatter, telling him that it’s okay to have emotions, to mourn even the positive changes in his life. Doesn’t ask him stupid questions either— that’s what he likes about Kashima, honestly. The kid knows how to stay in his damn la—

“Kamitani?” His name sits high in Kashima’s mouth, strained even as he tries to look casual. “Are you avoiding Inomata-san?”

Well, there goes that. Time to find some new fucking friends.

“Kamitani?” Kashima cranes his huge eyes towards him, shock scrawled across every millimeter of white around them. “Are you?”

He’s not.

That’s the long and short of it. If that girl’s going around complaining that she can’t find him, well— that’s a skill issue. It’s not because he’s been making himself scarce whenever he hears the squeak of her school shoes rounding the corner, or because he’s been finding reasons to stay late at club just in case some nerd’s lurking around the bike rack, waiting to shake him down over her stupid questions. Kamitani isn’t just walking around, letting Inomata live rent-free in his head twenty-four-seven just because she wants to know what his type is.

At least, that’s what he should say. What he wants to, once he’s had some time to stew on it. But what he manages now is, “Shut up.”

A couple years ago that might have actually done it; might have made Kashima’s eyes get all big and watery and sent him scrambling for a safer kind of conversation. But tonight he only sighs, sending him the sort of look that makes Kamitani’s shoulders ache, begging to bow beneath the weight of his disappointment.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, you can just say so,” Kashima tells him, all prim, like shut up wasn’t clear enough. “But if you want my opinion—”

“I don’t.”

“—You should talk to her.” His gives the barest little shrug, like this is casual advice, something he probably hadn’t been working himself up to say all evening. “At least find out what she wants to tell you.”

“I already know what she wants.” What feature do you find most physically attractive in the opposite sex and why? “To annoy the shit out of me.”

“Kamitani.” There he goes again, giving him that look, like somehow he’s the wrong one here. “I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you think it will be.”

He’s right. It’ll be worse. “Easy for you to say.”

Kashima hums, unconvinced. “She’s a perfectly nice girl, if you’d just give her a chance. Which you’d know, if you’d just talk to her.”

Kid wouldn’t be so quick to say that if he was the one saddled with fifty short answer questions about what gets his dick hard. “Why should I? Because you think it’s the nice thing to do?”

 “Well, yes.” His head tilts, half-thoughtful, half-guilty. “That, and, er…Inomata-san isn’t exactly known for giving up…”

Ah, well. Kamitani grimaces. Kid does have a point. It’s just fifty questions, after all. No wrong answers. “I’ll think about it.”

*

Just fifty questions.

What traits besides the physical do you find desirable in the opposite sex?

Opinion shit, too. Simple stuff.

What would you consider the ‘perfect date?’

Easy as breathing.

Do you have a ‘type?’ If so, what is it?

Except it’s fucking impossible. Oh, sure, he’d given Kashima a metric ton of shit about letting some perfectly cute girl off because he didn’t know whether he liked her or not. Because he’d spent too much energy trying to figure it out, and he wanted to focus on being a good big brother, or whatever, but now—

Now he’s had two weeks to find out he doesn’t know shit about what he likes either. Just like back in first year, when Kashima cornered him with the sort of questions those stupid magazines asked idols, and all he’d been able to give him was his height and blood type. Only worse, because a third year should know his favorite food, or favorite color, or at least have a fucking opinion about whether he likes shy girls or sporty girls or whatever, and Kamitani—

Kamitani doesn’t. Even when he’s got his dick in his hand, it’s just whoever’s on the cover of the nearest magazines from the neck down. Nothing special, just breasts and butt and the idea of a warm body to make the whole thing go quicker. Real simple. Utilitarian, even. Reasonable.

It’s goddamn embarrassing, that’s what.

“I’m as bad as fucking Kashima,” he grunts, the heel of his hand the only thing keeping his forehead from meeting the desk. He’s half-tempted to let it go— a couple minutes of unconsciousness would be welcome with the way this day is going but—

“What’s up, Captain?” Saginuma’s grin can get him climbing walls on a good day, but right now one flash of it has him putting in real effort not to snap the arm resting between his seat and Kamitani’s desk. Be easy too; the kid doesn’t work out enough to give him more trouble than a toothpick. “Can’t figure out how to get the team to Koshien?”

“Shut up.” That gets his head up at least, even clears it a little. “I could win those games with my eyes closed.”

“Yeah, get real, Saginuma!” Hands clap down on his shoulders, shaking them the way Usokawa’s probably only seen through the TV screen. It takes a full count of ten for Kamitani to convince himself it’s not worth it to break his fingers too. “Kamitani’s got our season on lock. We’re going all the way to—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Saginuma waves him off, already bored. “But it begs that question doesn’t it? If our dear captain here isn’t biting his nails over plays, then just what has got him so stressed out?”

It’s bad enough that he has to suffer that idiot’s grin ratcheting wider, his stupid arm trespassing further into his personal bubble to support that shit-stirring lean— but it’s worse to see he’s got Usokawa doing the same thing, lenses flaring like some lame cartoon villain. Even Ebizawa’s half-turned in his seat.

“None of your business,” he snaps. Stupid move, since that only gets Ebizawa to turn the full way around, brows pitched high on his forehead. “I’m not stressed out.”

“Sure, of course. You’re just pulling your hair out for fun, like the rest of us.” Usokawa adjusts his glasses, too knowing. “Now come on, tell us what’s up.”

“Nothing.” It comes out too fast, too defensive. Might as well have put up a big sign saying, I’m hiding something. Bonehead move, since there’s no way he can asked these losers about—

Or maybe he could. Ebizawa’s had a string of girlfriends; nothing serious, just a few confessions that stretched into a handful of dates, petering out by the time they had to switch uniforms. Even Saginuma had a vague something over summer break second year, at least until the girl left him for the ghoul in 3-B’s haunted house during the culture festival. And Usokawa���

Well. Was Usokawa. Even if he’d never strung more than three words together in front of a girl, he had opinions about them. Not ones Kamitani cared to listen to, but he had them, at least. Unlike some people.

“Hey,” he grunts, scrubbing at the back of his head. “What’s your type?”

Kamitani’s not stupid— he expects the question to land like a bomb, devastating the conversation around it. He expects the silence, the glances that pass between Ebizawa and Saginuma, like there must be something wrong with their ears—

But he doesn’t expect Usokawa’s nearly instant, “B! Just like yours, right, Kamitani?”

It takes his brain a full ass minute to catch up. “I don’t care about your fucking blood type.”

Usokawa blinks. “But you said—?”

“He meant like with girls, idiot.” Ebizawa glances at him, like he can’t quite believe it himself. “Uh, right?”

His shoulders twitch, skin starting to itch right around his collar. “Whatever.”

“What? Really? Kamitani?” Sure, it’s not something he usually cares about, but there’s no reason for Usokawa to gape, pitch forward all slack-jawed like it’s some sort of shock. “Well, I like bookish girls with glasses and a soft side.”

Huh. F cups and a preference for bikinis would have been his guess for that perv, but that’s practically normal. Nice, almost.

“They always have the biggest breasts, after all,” Usokawa leers, and ah, there it is. The weird shit he’s been waiting for. “Plus they get all bashful during the beach chapters when they lose their—”

A well-timed cuff from Saginuma saves him from having to hear anymore about beach episodes. “He means three dimensional girls, idiot.”

“Hey, some of those games are fully rendered n—”

“The ones that aren’t programmed to take their tops off if you feed them enough cheesecake.”

“Oh, well, fine, I guess. In that case,” —Usokawa clears his throat, adjusting his tie for good measure— “my type is anyone who lets me touch them.”

“I said real girls,” Kamitani grunts. “Not non-existent.”

“I kind of like when they’re shy,” Saginuma offers, almost wistful. “Girls, I mean. Though I like them when they’re perky too. Energetic, you know. Or both, I guess.”

“They can’t be both shy and energetic,” Usokawa scoffs, like he’s some sort of expert. “Those are on two completely opposite sides of the same slider, like bookish and sporty—”

“I don’t know, some girls are shy until you get to know them.” Ebizawa shrugs, holding the only brain cell between the three of them. “And then they talk just as much as all the other girls. Sometimes even about the same stuff.”

“Yeah, Usokawa. Girls have layers.” Saginuma grins, adding, “At least the ones in 4D.”

“Hey, my waifus have layers too!” he insists, entirely too earnest. “Some of them even have seasonal outfits!”

Kamitani turns, putting both of those idiots at his back. “What about you?”

Ebizawa blinks. “Me?”

“You’re the only one out of these chucklefucks who’s managed to talk to more than one girl for ten minutes.” And have her keep his interest for longer than it takes the conversation to end. A superpower, as far as Kamitani’s concerned. “What’s your take?”

“Oh…er…” He runs a hand through the fluff of his hair. “I don’t really know. Ah…nice girls, I guess?”

“Nice girls?” Saginuma groans. “Really? All those girlfriends and that’s what you’re got? Girls that are nice to you?” He huffs, shaking his head. “Must be nice to be good looking.”

“T-they don’t have to be nice to me!” Ebizawa sputters, red splotching his cheeks. “Er, I mean…it’s nice, when they are. But I was thinking when they’re like…actually nice. The ones that are always supporting their friends, or uh…helping underclassmen with their work, or like…get chocolates for the whole class on Valentine’s Day—”

“Really?” Saginuma’s brows brush his hairline. “You want obligation chocolate?”

“I’m not saying that I—I want that! I just think it’s just nice that they’d think of everyone when—”

“Not everyone is too proud to take Kamitani’s seconds,” Usokawa sniffs. “Right, Ebizawa?”

“He doesn’t speak for me.” Ebizawa’s gaze cuts to him, desperate. “You know that, right? I don’t want any of your, er…ah….?”

“Actually, yeah.” Saginuma swings back around, forehead crumpled in disbelief. “What is with that, dude? Can’t you be at least a little grateful? Some of the ones you got last year were handmade.”

Annoyance itches up Kamitani’s spine, spiking his shoulders up around his ears. “I don’t like sweet shit. What’s hard to understand?”

“Yeah, but you could be nice about it.” Ebizawa flinches under his glare. “I’m just saying! Girls put in a lot of effort into that sort of stuff. It wouldn’t kill you to think about their feelings.”

“Why the hell do I care?” It’s not like any of those girls cared about his. None of them asked if they could shove their chocolates in his face; they just did it and hoped he’d think they were cute enough not to care that he couldn’t even put a name to a face. Like it wasn’t weird to have upperclassmen corner him with some half-baked confession when they hadn’t even spoken two words to each other. “I’m not interested in any of that sort of shit.”

His life’s complicated enough; the last thing he needs is to add some girl’s tender feelings to the mix. The hag’s bad enough as it is.

“Really?” Saginuma blinks, all wide-eyed, like this is some revelation or something. Like he hasn’t spent the last four years dodging every doe-eyed classmate that tried to get him on the roof alone, or every enterprising senpai that brought him a bento. “You know, now that I’m thinking of it— just what do you like in a girl?”

“Oh, hey, yeah!” Usokawa whips around in his seat, practically vibrating. “You’ve asked all of us, but you haven’t said— what’s your type, cap?”

It’s just his luck that every conversation in this classroom reaches a fucking lull just in time for Usokawa to put his personal business on blast. There’s not one head that doesn’t snap to their corner, the weight of thirty stares boring into into him and—

And Kamitani scowls. This isn’t just a mistake, it’s a fucking disaster.

“None of your business,” he grunts, already halfway out of his chair. There’s no plan once he gets out of it, just a certainty that anywhere he goes will be better than staying here, but—

Bing-bong ding-dong.

“All right, students,” Kumatsuka-sensei hums, quiet voice carrying beneath the last tolling note of the bell. “Time to take your seats.”

*

The thing is: he really doesn’t care about this shit. Perfect dates and blood types and whether someone’s chocolates end up on his desk out of obligation or not— none of that matters. The other guys might waste their time thinking about which girl in class fills out the uniform best, or who would look the cutest in a yukata, or whether they have a chance of getting either of them to kiss them on the school roof before the end of the year, but that’s not his problem.

A girlfriend’s inevitable; the kind of thing that’ll happen to him one day no matter how he feels about it. Worrying over when or how is like tearing his hair out over earthquakes that’ll hit in his thirties— absolutely useless, and completely out of his control. It’ll either wreck his whole life or it won’t; he doesn’t need to have an opinion about whether it’ll have a B or C cup when it does.

Or at least he didn’t, until now. Because now it’s weird that he hasn’t.

“Kamitani-senpai?” Chain link rattles as Sato settles against the batting cage next to his, arms folded just under the name stitched onto her windbreaker. “Got something on your mind?”

None of your business sits at the tip of his tongue— a reflex, really, a rock he’s always ready to throw— but there’s no one else here on the pitch, and if he’s being fair, it’s a manager’s job to ask that sort of thing. “No.”

“Senpai.” It huffs out of her, as close to a laugh as he’s heard from her. “The machine stopped pitching balls two minutes ago.”

The bat dips in his fingers, scuffing dirt across the plate. “Huh? Re—?”

A ball whiffs past— the perfect one, a real potential out-of-the park pitch— the whole cage rattling as chain link catches it instead of aluminum. Sato simply says. “No.”

Kamitani’s cleats kick up clay as he shifts, abandoning his hitter’s stance to scowl. Another pitch whizzes through, hitting the chain a little lower, and she adds, “But you didn’t notice one way or another, did you?”

Kid’s got him there. He sighs, leaning back until metal crowds him, worn enough to bow out and cradle his shoulders. Her head cocks, bobbed hair settling against the line of her jaw. Makes it look strong, like she belongs here, part of the team rather than just a cheerleader on the sidelines.

“Sato.” This time the machine’s really out, gears clucking across the pitch, whining and whirring until it finally shuts off. “You’re a girl.”

She blinks— real slow, mouth rucking up all weird too, weight shifting until she goes from at rest to potential energy all at once. “Is that what you were thinking about, senpai?”

“What?” It’s not like he needs to meditate on her bone structure to figure it out; the bust-to-waist ratio kinda gives it away. “No. I’m saying that you know what girls are thinking. Because you are one.”

Kamitani’s not the type to give ground, but he will give the kid this: he’s earned the epic side-eye she slants him, both brows hiked up to hit her hairline. Or at least, he assumes they are after he loses line-of-sight over the event horizon of her bangs. “I know what I’m thinking, at least.”

Good enough. “If you were asking a guy about his type, what would you want him to tell you?”

Sato stares. “Is someone asking you that kind of stuff, senpai?”

“Hypothetically,” he grunts, shoulders hunched. “What would a girl be looking for?”

There’s a pause— a long one; strained, like she’s coming up with answers he’ll never have the clearance to hear— before she says, “A boyfriend?”

“Not happening.” Not when his only qualification for this whole survey business is that he’s best friends with the idiot Inomata actually likes. “What else.”

“I don’t know about that, senpai.” Her nose scrunches up, all dubious. “Are you sure she doesn’t want you to say she’s your type?”

“Hell no.” Inomata might not know much about this shit, but even she’s not stupid enough to expect ‘high-maintenance know-it-all’ to rank at the top of anyone’s list. “This is…informational. Data, or whatever.”

“O…kay.” She fixes him with this look, one that says then-what-the-hell-are-we-doing-here-senpai, and, god, he should have just kept his mouth shut. “Then why can’t you just tell her what you’re into?”

Kamitani might be shit with his feelings or whatever, but even he knows that it’s frustration that makes his neck knot up so much it aches, that makes his fingers so stiff they practically crack as he drags his hat down, covering his face. “Forget it. This is stupid.”

“W-wait! Senpai”— there’s chain link between them, but Sato half-reaches out anyway, eyes wide— “do you not…? I mean, with girls, don’t you—?”

“Girls are hot.” There’s some heat behind it when he says it, a different kind of frustration funneling right out of his mouth, the kind that hits him when school skirts slip a little too far up a thigh, or when his elbow brushes past something that certainly isn’t a shoulder, but he’d rather die than let more of it out. “I just don’t think about it all the time.”

Sato blinks. “Oh. Okay. So you don’t really have a, er…?”

“I just don’t get what people want to hear,” he grounds out, folding his arms to hide the way his hands clench. “Like, what? That tits are good? Or that I care about some hobby or whatever? I don’t.”

“Ah, I…see. I think.” Her head tilts again, but this time it’s assessing, like she’s trying to figure out his fucking problem. “Maybe you should think of it like…what’s the first thing you notice about a girl when you look at her?”

Easy. How annoying she’s going to be until he finds a reason to walk away. “Legs?”

Sato coughs, like something’s gone down the wrong pipe. “Well. That’s a start.”

He frowns. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

Her grimace is all the answer he needs. “Okay, what if you thought about it more as…if you were going to date someone, senpai, what would you want them to be like?”

Nothing like the old hag, for one. “Normal.”

Sato’s whole face furrows, like not only is his answer shitty, but it has a stank to it too. “Normal.”

“Like they don’t get weird or whatever.” It’s self-explanatory, really, but Sato keeps staring at him like he belongs beneath a microscope. Or maybe on the bottom of her shoe. “You know what I mean. Girls are fine, but then they become girlfriends and just hang off a guy until something shakes ‘em off.”

“And that’s”— she hesitates— “bad?”

“Yeah,” he huffs. “Because then they wanna go on dates. Get all picky over who a guy talks to, even if it’s just for school stuff. Want to call them by their first name.”

Kamitani hadn’t even known Ebizawa had a name, not until his last two-month wonder came in with a special bento just for her Arata-kun. He could have died happy never knowing.

Sato sighs, hand rubbing over her face. “Senpai, are you even sure you want a girlfriend?”

“I’m not talking about me,” he grunts. “This for data or whatever.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, senpai” — she glances up at him, shaking her head— “but I think you’re an outlier.”

*

Outlier — that’s a nice way to put it, one even Kashima would be hard put to argue over. He’d try, of course, say a bunch of things about opportunity and responsibilities and everyone taking things at their own pace, but it wouldn’t change the facts:

It’s fucking stupid that he can’t figure this out.

“Hayato!” The hag doesn’t so much shout his name as let it reverberate through the whole house, practically shaking the floorboards just to get attention. “Hurry up! I’m leaving in ten.”

Kamitani grunts, wrist-deep in his shirt drawer. The same place he’s been standing for the past five fucking minutes, thinking about this shit instead of picking between long sleeves and short ones. Because that’s apparently where this whole disaster has put him— not able to think and function at the same time. “Give me a minute, woman!”

It’s Inomata’s fault. He’d been just fine before he looked at her stupid questions, but one flip through them has him so twisted up he’s struggling to put his arms through the right holes, taking no less than three tries to get the damn thing buttoned the right way and—

“Hayato!” His teeth clack down so tight he nearly scrapes a layer off his tongue. “Let’s go!”

“I’m coming,” he growls, shoving his shirt down into his pants. “I’m coming.”

His hands fumble the belt— someone needs to put him out of his fucking misery already— and it’s with one last glance in the mirror that he sees red and white stripes balled up in the corner. A half-tied, hopeless mess that’s probably been there since April, when the old taskmaster that ran this school insisted that everyone had to wear their full uniform to the Entrance Ceremony, and—

There’s a tie in our dress code. Even now he can see that sour sneer she gave him, all superior, like being top-spot in the Advanced Class made her better than him. As a third year, you might bother to wear one.

It’s stupid. He couldn’t be paid enough to care about what Inomata thinks about him. And still—

Still he snatches that tie and sling it over his neck. Let her fucking choke on that.

*

Lunch bell’s hardly rung before Saginuma’s hanging over his seat, phone shoved right up under his nose. “You guys seen this yet?”

Kamitani’s neck cranes back, the black blur on the screen resolving into a blur with shit on it. “Maybe,” he grunts, knocking Saginuma’s arm wide. “If you didn’t just shove it in my face.”

Kid doesn’t even break stride, just lets his phone settle between the four of them as he plows on. “It’s Onibaba’s Curse 3: The Cure, the sequel to Onibaba’s Curse—”

“I know how numbers work,” Kamitani grunts, glaring down at the screen. Not that there’s much on it— just black and some white figure, no less blurry at this distance. “What’s it got to do with me?”

“It’s playing at the theater in town right now.” Ebizawa and Usokawa are crowding in now, and Saginuma puffs up as he says, “We should go see it. I heard it’s even scarier than the first one, and that—”

“Nearly had Kashima climbing out of his skin,” Usokawa reminds him. It’s gleeful, the way he says it, a feature rather than a warning. “Sounds perfect.”

Kamitani catches the empty seat to his side and frowns. “Where the hell is Kashima, anyway? Didn’t he bring lunch today?”

“He did.” Usokawa turns wistful, one cheek propped up on his hand. “Probably made by that butler of his. Think he’ll let me have a slice of his omelet if I give him one of my hot dog octopuses?”

“No deal. That guy makes a whole aquarium’s worth of those suckers,” Saginuma sighs. “And they’re made from the really fancy dogs too.”

“Aw, but—”

“I didn’t ask about his hot dogs.” It comes out of him like a whip crack, a roll of thunder right before lightning strikes, but neither one of them does so much as jump, too caught up in dreaming about Saikawa’s stupid sausages. “Where’s Kashima?”

“He got called out by another girl again.” Ebizawa shakes his head, huffing, “This is, what? The third one this month? It’s not even summer break.”

“It’s third year, I’m telling you.” Usokawa’s eyes blink wide behind his glasses. “It makes the girls crazy. All of them are looking for their high school romance, and they’re taking no prisoners.”

Kamitani snorts. “Seems like they’re taking plenty of prisoners, actually.”

“Hey.” Ebizawa shifts in his seat, pitching himself up on one knee. “If we’re gonna get bread, we should probably get going.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kamitani gets to his feet, rolling his shoulders to work the stiffness out of them. “I’m—”

“You!” School shoes squeal as they skid to a stop right in front of him, and oh, he knows that stomp too well to even need to glance above the knee-highs. “Don’t move.”

It’s nothing to smirk down into Inomata’s scowl, to straighten from his slouch and loom every last inch over her, enjoying the way her mouth only furrows further into her cheeks. “And what are you going to do—?”

About it, that’s what he should be saying. Maybe even with a real aggressive lean, feet planted so she can’t haul him off like she did last time. But she wraps a whole hand around his tie and tugs instead, and the thought rattles right out of him, ideas as dried up as his mouth.

“Come with me,” she grunts, another good yank driving him two steps after her. He barely makes it; the room tilts as Inomata herds him out, knees suddenly jelly, trembling, and—

And she’s got to be choking the life out of him. That’s why everything’s gone all swimmy, breath ragged like he’s run four kilometers without stopping for air.

“Hey.” He digs in his heels, hauling her up short. “Cut it out.”

She scowls up at him, knuckles still blanched to match the red and white wrapped around them. It’d be nothing to knock her away, to squeeze that wrist until her fingers untangled themselves, but instead he just stands there, stupid, as she snaps, “We don’t have all day.”

Kashima’s the kind of idiot that would just take it, that would stand here, letting his mouth work— babbling, probably— until she hauled him off. But Kamitani— Kamitani waits until he’s sure his knees will hold him before he yanks the tie from her grip, demanding, “Just where are we going?”

Inomata blinks— all slow, like he’s the idiot— and says, “The courtyard.”

He frowns. “What? Why?”

“What do you mean why?” She lifts the bag in her hand— a nice cloth one, the kind the rich kids always had wrapped around their parent-packed bentos— and says, “It’s lunch time.”

*

That girl might not have him on a leash anymore, but she still bullies him right down onto one of the courtyard’s empty benches. One of the last ones, by the looks of it; everywhere else is covered in couples, making doe-eyes at each other, feeding each other from their nearly compartmentalized meals. Thankfully they’re all too wrapped up with each other to notice when Inomata shoves a bento in his lap, a single sheet of printed paper balanced on top.

“What the hell is this about?” Kamitani grunts, glaring as she drops down beside him, her own bento perched in her lap. “I was gonna get bread.”

“This is better than bread,” she informs him primly, breaking apart her chopsticks with the same precision as she arranges the pleats on her skirt, a sharp charcoal horizon cutting across her knees. “This is a balanced meal.”

He glares down at the metal lid, dubious. “Curry bread is balanced. There’s meat. Bread. Stuff.”

“It’s really not. Now hurry up and eat.” Her chopstick stabs toward the paper he’s snatched up between his fingers. “You’ll need time to fill out the rubric.”

“The…?” It’s a grid, he realizes, staring down at the sheet. Flavor, one square says, while another below it reads, Mouth Feel. There’s other squares beside them too— comments, the first one reads, while the one after says, score—

A grading rubric. She’s given him a grading rubric for lunch.

“There’s something wrong with you, you know that?” he grumbles, flicking open the latch. “Something real unbalanced.”

“Well, if you can’t answer some simple questions” — simple, she says, like it would take a real moron to get caught up on question two. Like a hot-blooded high school boy should know what he likes when it bends over right in front of him— “then I’ll have to resort to acquiring useful data through other means.”

He snorts. “Like making me choke down your cooking?”

“Don’t scoff when you haven’t even looked at it.” Her chin lifts, all prideful, but he can’t help but notice she hasn’t opened hers either. “Maybe I’ve struggled with some of the…er…finer points of pastry, but even I can make a bento.”

“We’ll see,” he hums, giving her rubric a pointed glance. She swallows at that, real thick, the nerves starting show in the way her fingers clench against her own tin, and, well, he might as well put her out of her misery—

“What?” It’s barely more than an exhale, breathy as she leans closer, glancing between the open bento and the look on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s vegetables in this.” Bell peppers, broccoli, and the worst offender: carrots. Big, thick slices too, laid right on top of his rice. Gross.

Her forehead furrows, mouth rucked up with annoyance. “There’s vegetables in curry too.”

He grunts, rolling the chopsticks in his hand, trying to figure out how to get to the actual food underneath. “Not ones I can see.”

Inomata stares at him, real nasty-like, as if he’s the problem, and not the girl who put vegetables in his lunch. “How are you one of this school’s top athletes? You eat like a garbage bin.”

“I’m a growing boy.” That’s what the hag always says at least, before shoving more bok choy onto his plate. Chopsticks clacking, he excavates the rice beneath a strip of nori, stopping to pick up fish and pickled radish before shoveling the whole thing into his mouth.

Inomata pitches forward, eyes wide. “Well?”

He shrugs, picking out a slice of carrot. “It’s edible.”

“Edible.” He might as well have said disgusting from the way she groans, a useless heap collapsed over her completely untouched lunch. “I don’t want it to be edible.”

Kamitani shovels in another bite— this one with pickled lotus— and it’s…passable. Nutritious, if not exactly mouthwatering. He’d probably finish the whole thing, if she let him stop talking long enough. “Considering some of the other stuff you’ve made, you should be happy I’m not calling a dentist.”

“The point isn’t just to not cause physical harm,” she grits out, still not eating. “It’s supposed to display the sort of skills that would make me…girlfriend material.”

Inomata slumps, hair falling forward in a solid black sheet, hiding her face like she’s that girl from Ringu. Dejected, that’s how she looks. Mortified too, knowing her. Completely hopeless.

It doesn’t fit on her. Same way that case of nerves didn’t in his house, making her look all coltish and lost, like some little kid, and—

And maybe there is something wrong with this bento after all, since he gets that weird pit in his stomach again, the kind that can’t be filled with more rice and a hefty dose of curry bread. His mouth rumples, wrinkling as the words shove themselves out between his teeth. “It’s not bad.”

Her head rolls toward him across her shoulders, fixing him with a flat stare. “Do you want to date me now?”

Ha. Now that's fucking funny. “It’d take more than a bento to do that.”

“That’s what I thought.” She sighs, straightening her spine along with her skirt. Only one of them needs it. “Well, if there’s something you’d actually like to eat, just make a note of it somewhere on the rubric. I won’t make any promises, but…I can take it into consideration.”

He glances up at her, fingers stiff where they settle against the chopsticks. “So this what we’re doing now? Bento?”

Her palms smooth over her already pristine pleats. “It seems the most obvious skill for improvement. Yagi-san said—”

“Yagi.” He nearly spits out the fish in his mouth. “You’re taking advice from that pervert?”

Red flares over her cheeks, splotchy and uneven, but her shoulders take on a defensive hike. “Well, I wouldn’t be, if someone had given me something else to go off of. But if there’s anyone who knows what a bento should be like…”

It would be the prince of third year, who had his pick. “Why are you so worried about what he thinks anyway? Shouldn’t you be making stuff Kashima likes?”

“Well, ideally— yes. But…” Her shoulders twitch, a flinch rather than a shrug. “It’s not as if I have a natural way to ask. We don’t…hang out outside of school hours.”

“Does anybody?” he grunts, so dry he nearly scorches his mouth. But she glances up at him, all reproachful, like she doesn’t know if he’s teasing her or Kashima, and there it is, that stupid knot again, lodged right in his gut. “Listen. We’re going to a movie this weekend.”

Inomata glances up at him, brows furrowed. “Huh?”

“The guys. All of us together.” There’s an itch between his shoulders he can only scratch with a shrug. “Kashima’s coming too.”

Or at least he will be, once Kamitani’s done with him.

“Oh.” Her head tilts, wary. “That’s…nice?”

He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “What I’m trying to say is: it’d probably be fine if you came.”

“What?” She’s all eyes when she blinks, mouth falling slack. “You mean…really? And you wouldn’t mind?”

“Yeah.” He sets the chopsticks over the empty tin. “It’s fine or whatever.”

“Real—?”

“I said it’s fine, didn’t I?” he snaps. “Besides, I owe you for the lunch.”

“But…” Her mouth works, rounding over a half dozen words before she sits back, hands pressed flat against her untouched bento. “All right. Sure. I think I could make that work.”

She spares him the smallest, shyest glance. “T-thank—”

“Shut up,” he grunts. “Just eat your damn food already.”

*

“I-I don’t know.” Kashima’s pale when they finally corner him before homeroom, eyes darting all over like he’s looking for an exit. “I-I might have to look after Kotaro that day.”

“Kashima,” Saginuma groans, hands slapping to his face. “Come on. The headmistress can’t spare you for a day?”

“I mean, sure, but really…i-it’s fine.” He puts on that shaky little smile of his, and Kamitani knows: if he looked under the kid’s desk, his knees would be quivering. “B-besides, it’s not like those sorts of movies are, you know…my thing, really…”

Kamitani had assumed it would be him who had to lean in, him who had to put the nail in the coffin, but instead it’s Ebizawa, brows pitched to his hairline as he asked, “Oh, so you’re scared?”

“W-what? No.” He can’t tell whether Kashima is shaking his head or just having full body tremors. “I’d be perfectly happy to go, if it wasn’t for—”

“So you’re coming?” Kamitani doesn’t even flinch when the kid turns that betrayed look his way. He’ll thank him later. Probably. “The hag’s gonna have to get used to not having you around anyway. She won’t have all this free labor when you’ve got entrance exams.”

Or after, but he knows better than to say that. He’s not going to be the one that gets Kashima to chicken out of college just because it might be more than two doors down from his brother.

“I-I suppose so.” The kid straightens, nodding. “I’ll, ah, see what I can’t work out.”

“Hell yes!” Usokawa whoops. “The five of us, hitting the town—”

“About that.” Kamitani strives to keep his voice even as he says, “I’m bringing someone with me.”

Saginuma blinks. “Yeah, sure, man. Whatever. The more the merrier.”

“No problem at all!” Usokawa adds, as if he has any bearing on the answer. “Anyone you bring is sure to be cool!”

“Yeah.” Kamitani smothers a grimace. “We’ll see about that.”

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

I always hate it when the nurse or one of the aides comes in the room while I’m talking to Mom. They never acknowledge she’s on the phone, and just start talking at her while we scramble to try to get in our goodbyes.

She has never been good at having her attention be divided between two conversations (me neither!) but post stroke it is sooo much worse. When she isn’t having a good day she gets locked on the person in the room and we never get to say goodbye.

Today was a great day.

On the plus side it meant that Mom was able to firmly, but politely, tell the woman that she was on the phone and then do our goodbyes.

On the negative side, I only got 8 minutes of Mom on a great day!

And TBH, I needed her today.

Yesterday was rough as heck: utterly exhausting, painful, full of incidents, some good and some terrible. I’d lain awake till about four in the morning fretting over things. I’d looked forward to talking to her even more than usual.

If she was having a good day I’d get to talk things over with the one person in the world that loves me.

If she was having a bad day at least I’d get to vent in my monologue to her.

She was having a GREAT day, and I didn’t even get a chance to get to substance of yesterday. All I got was “Oh, you remember the old couple that ran the Chinese place? I saw them at Walmart, and they were just as friendly as ever**!” Followed by memories of them, and their restaurant, and me rehashing the conversation, and…in comes the nurse.

So now I’m stuck stewing on yesterday, worrying about the future, and reflecting on “everything” all in my own head. It gets cluttered and noisy in there!

Don’t say “Just keep a journal. I have written in a journal every single night since I was a teenager. Last night I spent almost 2 hrs writing! Writing may be better than nothing, but it’s just my head extending to paper. It doesn’t clear the clutter, but shoves it around.

Talking to someone can at least offer banal reassurance or encouragement, validation of feelings. A person can offer a sense of support when you need the help to hold yourself up.

Merely thinking is staggering along, wounded. A journal is having a stick to help you limp. A person to talk to is having someone to lean against. Having someone to actually keep you from falling when you are stumbling can make a world of difference.

Anyway, damn it, I needed Mom today. I know one day, sadly not too far off, I won’t have her at all. But today she is alive, and herself, and had the energy let me lean on her a little. I feel cheated!

** It was a family run restaurant in the next town over. We got on great with them, and were regulars. They sent us a Christmas card, we sent them a Lunar New Year card. Early on a nasty, evil rumor went around of them serving cat (because someone saw their pet cat in a cat carrier when they were moving homes!), and we stuck by them, so I think that started the special friendliness.

They retired probably ten years ago now, and their kids didn’t want to struggle along in a restaurant. The last time I saw them was maybe five or six years ago, when Mom and I were shopping in Walmart. They rushed over then, like I rushed over now.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t planned what to say, and in my excitement I was talking fast. English isn’t their language. They know a little, but not nearly enough to deal with someone yammering on like me. I could tell that even the wife, whose English is much better, was getting maybe 1/5 of what I was saying, but I couldn’t calm down my talking.

I think it’s because I’ve been trained to feel a yawing silence as a dead conversation, a sign that the person I’m talking to really wishes I would go away. (A real problem if you are of the local outcast family). On some level I feel like if I can just say the right thing I can keep the conversation going, like that old plate spinning trick. It’s on me to know how to engage and when to end a conversation. It’s like, no one really wants to talk to me, but if I can find the magic words they will happily talk, and everyone wants to be polite and not cut off the talking, so it’s up to me to find a way to end it at exactly the right moment and way to leave the chat a pleasant encounter.

Anyway, delighted as I was to see the couple, I spent plenty of time kicking myself for not handling it right. Well, until more urgent problems overtook my internal review circuits!

[sanloss]

I think Fox is the dad in those "Dad who said he didn't want a cat 5 months ago" pictures, at least for Jo. Except instead of 5 months, it's more like 3 days.

Day 1: Fox wakes up before Jo, and throws her onto the chair. Jo wakes up and tries to run, but she weighs all of 40 pounds and Fox picks her up by the scruff of her neck. Jo tries to fight, but again, she weighs all of 50 pounds soaking wet, so she does jack-all except rip up his blacks slightly.

Yoda and Thorn catch up to them. Yoda goes "Up you are."

Fox: Yeah, I got woken up by this thing-

Jo: *hisses*

Yoda: *Taps his stick on Thorn's armor.* None of that, there will be. Come with us, you will. Tea, we will have.

Fox: Sir, she's actively resisting arrest-

Yoda: Tea, we will have.

Fox: She could be a-

Yoda: Tea.

Fox sighs, and resigns himself to suffering through Yoda's Swamp Tea again. Thorn is very happy, since he actually enjoys Swamp Tea. Jo is very confused, because she's never seen anyone like Yoda before. Also, people usually put her down by this point.

They get back to an unused meeting room, unnoticed because of the early hour. Yoda uses Grandmaster Priviledges to get tea ingredients sent up, along with a couple frogs and cookies.

They get Jo to explain some of her backstory- and why she snuck into the Rotunda- and Jo explains (through bouts of eating all the cookies, frogs, and tea she can get her malnourished little paws on) that she's used to sneaking through important, official buildings, because they always have a ton of free food lying around. She also reveals that she's an orphan. And that she doesn't have a name.

Jo: *through bites of food that Yoda keeps calling up* I forgot!

Thorn: You... you forgot your own name.

Jo: *Nods* Happened a looooong time ago, too.

Thorn: Well, what do people call you?

Jo: Thief, vagrant, spy, rug, that one, it, intruder-

Yoda: A name, do you want?

Jo: *Shrugs* i'unno.

At one point, Fox complains that he needs caff, using the term 'Cup of Joe'. Jo immediately declares that as her name, much to the amusement of Yoda and Thorn.

Yoda agrees to bring her back to the temple- officially because she's an initiate that ran away, and unofficially because Yoda wants to treat his great-grandaughter to Swamp Stew. (He already knows she's getting adopted by the Corries, who are very much his responsibility. Making her his great-grandaughter.)

Fox, being 100% wrong, thinks that this is the last he'll see of Jo.

<[{(_+_)}]>

She returns before the next morning, stealing a knife from an assassin who slipped by the Corries. Along with his wallet. Adding it to the collection of wallets she's stolen on the way over.

Cut to Sparrow, who's teaching a batch of shinies how to pick-pocket. He says something about showing off to Fox, and Jo goes :0 and goes over to the storage room and dumps the wallets she stole on the pillow. She then spends the rest of the day shadowing Sparrow and the rest of his Creative Aquisitions Team, stealing everything that's neither nailed down nor being watched 24/7.

Fox gets threatened again for not sleeping enough, and walks in on Jo adding her latest haul to the pile.

Fox: *looks at Jo*

Jo: *looks at Fox,* I'm helping :D

Fox: *looks at the literal pile of stolen wallets on his pillow.* God... fucking damnit.

So instead of napping, he shoves all of the wallets into her bag, ignores the fact that a few hundred wallets fit into a space the size of a few dozen, and drags her to Cable and Slicer to fix the mess she just did, explaining in a tone that is not at all fondly exasperated, Thire, about how they leave the wallets in the pockets, because then it takes them longer to realise they've been pickpocketed.

Jo realises she likes being carried. It makes her feel tall.

Somehow, they manage to get everyone's wallets back, and no-one suspects anything. It does require them to hold a few people, but nothing Slicer couldn't do remotely.

Once that's done, Jo feels a bit tired. So of course, she goes to sleep... on Fox's chest. He doesn't notice the 50 pounds of Tabaxi on him. (she ate ten pounds of food the other day! she's like, 10% swamp stew by weight.)

<[{(_+_)}]>

Fox really falls in (parental) love on day three. Like on day two, Jo busied herself by following Sparrow and his team. This time, however, she caught something that was all too common: A senator harrasing a clone. Luckily, it didn't escalate.

Jo then spent the day harrassing that senator. Rats on his pillow, ripped up sheets, ripped up couches, ripped up flimsy, stolen pens, wrecked drawers, pads taken to Slicer (she doesn't know how they work).

Fox, upon learning that Jo is able to ruin someone's life in less than 2 hours: ... This is my daughter now. I will not take critisism.

I made too many jokes about Fox treating his pet tooka like a human child and now I want to give him a tabaxi child. Like the cat people from dungeons and dragons. Black cat that’s also his daughter. He also has the pet tooka, but would talk about them the same.

Anyone that doesn’t live with him thinks Fox has four kids, Jo (tabaxi), Chickenfoot (tooka), Message (mouse droid), and Grizzer (the hound he doesn’t even own). It will only get worse when he figures out how to smuggle clone cadets off Kamino. And yes, his batch is included in “everyone”.

[oh-no-a-whovian]

Two more lonely people Part 13

NSFW 18+

Summary: “you made me love you! I tried to fight it for both our sakes! You can’t just pull away the moment things get tough!”

Pairing: Bruno Madrigal x fem werewolf! reader

Warnings: age gap (Y/N is 25 and Bruno is 50) swearing, some agression . any others let me know please.

Word count: 2163

Masterlist PT1 Next

Your birthday gifts were already piled high in your room when you returned the day after you were shot. The fragile items were placed in an intricately carved wooden box where they’d be safe, and the few pieces of clothes sat neatly folded atop the duvet. You’d stared at it all half-heartedly, some of the joy of the gifts having been ripped away by what happened after. If only Bruno wasn’t an idiot.

You sat alone in your room for hours, stewing in your anger at Bruno even though he apologised. Eventually though, it gave way to simply missing him. what he had said hurt but you knew he was lying; he didn’t want to ruin something he thought more important than him. you want to forgive him; you know it will take time but you’re going to try. You love him too much to let this get between you.

The scent of wildflowers, coffee and chocolate drifts through the breeze around the café where you sit across from him. Mixed glances are sent your way as you sip at your tinto and Bruno enjoys his hot coco. Rumours have spread across the Encanto over the past couple weeks, about your relationship and what had happened after your birthday party, and none of the people are shy with their stares.

You thank the server as they place your lunch on the table followed by Bruno’s. he’s trying hard not to see all the glares aimed his way, not just for the bad luck connected to him you assume, but also, the fact that they think he’s ruining an innocent girl’s life.

He hasn’t said much since you’d sat down together, too shy and worried that the people around you will overhear. Too many harsh words have been said about him since he received his gift, and it hurts your heart to watch him shrink away in the public eye.

In the privacy of his room, alone together, he is like an open book. Gentle and loving, not as quiet. He’ll speak for hours about his passion for acting if you let him, and you definitely let him. he’ll tell you about a book he’s reading, only if you’ve read it though, he doesn’t want to spoil it for you.

“Are you okay?” you finally ask as he seems to hide even further into his ruana. “We could leave if you’d like” you gesture toward the door.

“n-no i-it was my idea to come here for lunch.” He sighs, glancing around and trying to sit up a bit taller even as his body fights to shrink away more. He tries to stop his hand from tapping nervously but it just makes his leg do it instead.

“You could put your hood up. Be the mighty Hernando for a bit if it makes you feel better?” you tell him, your tone teasing but affectionate as you pop a piece of food in your mouth. He fingers the green cloth of his ruana at the curve that leads to the hood, considering your words with a smile.

“No, it is ok. I’ll be fine”

“ok” you smile “it’s an option, ok?”

“I want you to come back to working for me!” He blurts out suddenly, making others in the café stare at him and your eyebrows raise. You haven’t been back in his room since your birthday nearly three weeks ago. You avoided casita during the full moon, knowing he was waiting, hoping to see just a glimpse of your white fur in the night.

You haven’t been actively avoiding him, just keeping a little bit of distance to breathe and move past what had happened. You know he hasn’t got a hateful bone in his body; you aren’t even sure if he’s capable of getting genuinely angry. You have to admit though, after nearly three weeks without his touch, his warmth and his smile, you’re really starting to miss him regardless of what he’d tried to do.

“ok” you tell him quietly despite the mixed stares of others around you, taking his hand gently. You don’t miss the importance and severity of him asking in such a public location. Even after recent events and how people were nice to him during the rebuild of casita, he is still shunned by others in the town. You really aren’t sure if they were being nice due to the circumstances or if they’d just forgotten for a moment the shitty reputation that they’ve assigned him.

His eyes brighten with joy, and he breathes a sigh of relief, his anxiety seeming to disappear instantly even though some are still staring, maybe even more disgusted than before.

For the rest of the hour, you both sat in peaceful silence, watching people come and go, enjoying the atmosphere and each other’s company again.

~~~~~

You have sand stuck to your snout and grains falling from your fur as you spin around the bottom of the steps. You use your paws to send the sand flying as you dance in it, playing with Pétalo by chasing the little rat through the small dunes.

Bruno is up in his vision cave, doing visions for a small group. You’re sure they won’t do or say anything, you’d met them up there in your wolf form and your teeth are a very clear threat. You may be down the bottom of the stairs now but that just means they have to pass you to leave.

It’s been another week since you sat down and had coffee with him, you’ve been spending the time getting used to the rhythm of going to his sand filled room each day again. You haven’t gone all the way back into what your relationship was, but you’ve come close, a sweet kiss turning into something a little steamier in a matter of minutes.

Today, once he’s done with visions, he’s planning to walk you home. He’s doing just about everything to earn your forgiveness, even though you have told him that he’s forgiven. You’ve remained a little distant though and you know that’s probably why he thinks you haven’t actually forgiven him. you have, really!

The first of his customers storms down the steps, eyes red and tear stains down her cheeks. Your pointed ears curve back at the sight of her. She wanted to see if she would marry the man she’s currently infatuated with, clearly that won’t be the case… You just hope she didn’t curse Bruno out… maybe you should be up there instead of down here playing in the sand.

The moment her eyes land on you, her anger filled stomps stop. She stares at you wide eyed, slowly moving towards the steps that lead out of the room, giving you a wide berth with a racing heart. The way she’s acting at the sight of you make you think she did yell at Bruno and the thought makes you growl, baring your sharp deadly teeth at her. You’d warned them all when they arrived. You snap at her and she practically screams as she runs from the room. you simply hop up onto the platform, pretending nothing happened.

The others from the group are murmuring to each other as you re-enter the hallway, questioning what had happened in her vision. Their gossiping ceases though the moment they catch sight of you and the glare you’re sending their way, they even smack the one who hadn’t noticed so he’d shut up.

You lay on the ground across from them, your massive paws crossed as you watch them. Pétalo climbs out of your fur and sits in the gap between your front legs, deciding now was the time to groom herself. You hadn’t even noticed when she’d caught a ride, but you assume it was while you were glaring at the young woman.

Shouting starts up behind the stone door and your ears droop back once more, a snarl starting to curve your lip. The people on the lounge are glancing fearfully between you and the closed door, knowing that their friend is fucking up without even a clue that you lurk outside the door now.

You stand to your full height, positioning yourself directly in front of the door. The other’s hearts race as they watch you, possibly believing that this is about to be this man’s final moments. You knew you’d eventually have to make a display, let them believe you are truly serious. This man will have to be the example. The door starts to open and the screams get louder.

“You ruin everything, you know that?!” he screams “I will tell everyone in town that you’re still…” you pounce on top of him, snarling in his face as your paws pin his shoulders into the sand, his vision tablet shattering against the stone arch. You tower over him, your size dwarfing him as he stares up at you in horror, your fangs mere inches from tearing him apart. You’d be lying if you said some part of you wasn’t demanding to actually do it.

The smell of piss fills your nose as he begs for his life, but you gesture what he has to do to be freed, tilting your head toward Bruno. Apologise!

“I’m so sorry! Please forgive me!” he says trying to turn to look at Bruno as he finally gets the hint.

“i… I… i-its ok” he stutters staring at you, shocked at your reaction to the man. What did he expect when he asked you to do this? You weren’t gonna just sit back and do nothing while people called him every bad name in English and Spanish. Fuck that!

With one last threatening snuff by the man’s face you back away, stepping to the side to allow him past into the hallway but keeping your glare locked on him. His friends are staring at the ground refusing to risk meeting your eye as the man runs away. Good.

You sit back down where you were with a plop though trying not to crush the little rodent still grooming herself there. You’re surprised none of them ran off without their visions, too afraid to stick around and face your wrath. As long as they understand how they should act, it’s fine.

~~~~

Bruno’s POV

How she pounced on that man was kind of terrifying but also kinda exciting? Her bared fangs and massive paws, he was almost worried she’d actually do something. He has a feeling the next one to try something isn’t going to be as lucky. Is it weird that, that turns him on?

He holds her hand tight as the walk down the centre street of Encanto, making their way towards her home. The sun is on the edge of the mountains, on the verge of disappearing behind the massive stone outcrops. The birds are all singing and screeching at each other, sharing their stories of the day as they settle in for the night.

Merchants and children disappear into their homes as he passes them and [Y/N] is smiling brightly as she tells him about a book she’s reading. He’s not gonna admit that he’s just enjoying the sound of her voice but not actually hearing a word she’s saying. He wishes he could make a moment last forever. Not this moment but maybe a moment just before he fucked up. Perhaps where they were in his bed just enjoying the company and each other’s bodies.

[Y/N] stops speaking and walking for a moment, and Bruno glances at her to ask what’s wrong. She’s staring with a tilted head at the front door of her home, still a few buildings away. It’s sitting wide open, swinging a little in the breeze. He knows her mother usually keeps it closed to keep the flies and mosquitos from entering.

She keeps his hand in hers but moves a little faster to her home, worried that something might have happened to her mother. She slows again though at the doorway, taking deep sniffs of the air as she pulls him hesitantly through the threshold. He’s unsure what to think as two of the people from his vision come into view speaking to her mother in the kitchen. The older man is exactly how he remembers, and he stares at [Y/N] when her arrival is finally noticed, glancing down at her hand joined with Bruno’s. there’s recognition in his eyes but the man is definitely a stranger to Encanto.

Who is this man? All he knows is what he’s seen in his vision, that he’s hiding hatred within his heart. The woman beside him stares with an interested smile barely acknowledging anyone’s existence but [Y/N]’s.

[Y/N] looks as if she’s seen someone come back from the dead, her face pale and eyes wide. Even her mother is pale. He knows these people will be a problem, and one is missing. Why does his amor seem to know him?

“Dad?”

A/N: I’m mostly moved into the new place! Internet might be an issue for a few weeks, but we’ll see! Remember! Like and reblog to share the love!!

two more lonely people tags:

@pink-hufflepuff @kyriekurokami @goblinenby @fraujar @ducks118 @lemonbaby @sylum @life-hater39 @abelbai000 @sarashitposts @sweatyroadcowboyjudge @mother-dragon-and-her-hatchlings @elysiadjarin @multifandombtch @insanitybyanothername @inthewindsomehow @gloryekaterina @anactualvelociraptor @originalsoulcollector @hlxoos @tangerine-kitten @psychomanias @nectamburne @mary-wolf @wo1fwitch @jesuisravenclaw @shaddow-darkcloud @ryou-cosmos @puck-the-puppy @totofranken @butchcupid @mintymonicalei @azeret-mirror @a-gay-cryptid @cl0vr @tigreost @kenzi-woycehoski @acdassenza @coffee-cupps @krazyk99 @small-town-wayward-daughter @unstableyetloveable @nikt-wazny-y @animeluver23 @fuxkyoshizz @slytherinxhunter

[donald4spiderman]

this is kind of a vent lol. i like to be mad at spencer bc im toxic— also i love breaks up a lot. i don’t rlly make sense because i crave fluff soft spencie fics but now i wanna be angry at him so enjoy </3

tw: angst, breakup, kissing, shouting, crying, general CM gore, the Cat Adams arc, SPOILERS for s12-15

No one prepares you for heartbreak. No matter how strong you think you are, how emotionally void you’ve trained yourself to be, or how resilient you’ve grown— a shattered heart is one of the worst pains in the world.

He’s kissing her—Cathrine Adams— a serial killer, hit-woman, and master manipulator. The same woman that framed Spencer for murder, sent him to federal prison for three months, and kidnapped his mother. He’s kissing her like it’s the only thing he can fathom, likes it’s his dying wish. He’s forgotten all about the S.W.A.T. agents surrounding the two of them. He’s forgotten about Luke and Prentiss, who stand in shock a few feet from him.

Most importantly, he’s forgotten about you and the plans you had to watch movies all day in his apartment. Your cat died, and Spencer wanted to be there for you, he wanted to comfort you, as a loyal and loving boyfriend should.

Spencer gifted you a key months ago. You flowed freely through each other's apartment without any issues— up until now.

Cat breaks away from the kiss. Cat. Not Spencer. He’s still chasing her lips seconds after she pulls away— as if her kiss is that intoxicating to him. There both out of breath, staring into each others eyes with mischief until Cat turns to give you a smug wave and smile.

“Hi there.” She greets triumphantly, surely pleasured by the horrified look on your face. “We’ve arrived!”

Spencer has no words. He stews in his silent guilt as tears flow freely down your face. You weren’t one to cry... ever... but something about seeing your boyfriend of four years shoving his tongue down the throat of a murderer might have evoked a particular emotion that made it all too easy for you to break down.

“(Y/N)...” He croaks, stumbling over to you in an attempt to save face.

You place a firm hand on his shoulder, launching him backward. You’d always been much stronger than him.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Spencer.” Your voice cracks with a painful sob.

He’s visibly distraught, tears forming in his own eyes. “Please, (Y/N).”

Cat waltzes through the apartment like she owns it, seating herself in the burgundy armchair. She watches the chaos she’s ignited with joy.

You dry the tears from your eyes with your sleeve, composing yourself. “There’s really no good ones, huh?”

You’re not speaking to Spencer; instead, your question is directed towards Cat.

“I know about you, what you do, and more or less why you do it. I’m not an agent, but I have an affinity for these things, you know. It’s one of the similarities Spencer and I shared when we were together.”

Were. Past tense. The love between the two of you is already gone. Spencer feels the impact of a blow to his chest.

“Is this a lesson, Cat? ‘Cause, surely I’m not the one who should be subject to it. After all, I’m a woman. I know your victimology— bad men. Is that what you wanted to do to Spencer— show me Spencer’s true colors?”

Spencer steps in “(Y/N). Don’t engage with her.”

“I’ll do whatever I fucking want, Spencer.” You scoff. “You don’t even know what you’re doing right now. ‘Fucking up left and right.”

“She’s right.” Cat grins dramatically. “You already lost a girlfriend today. A couple more strangers might die too— if I so desire. Not your best day, Spencie.”

“Do you know me, Cat?” You question firmly, returning her focus towards you.

She nods, “Of course. I’ve done my research.”

“Really? How much?”

“Well...” She starts. “I know you dated Dr. Spencer Reid for four years— who, by the way, was looking at engagement rings just yesterday. Crazy how things change so quickly.” Spencer watches the way your face drops, and it feels like he’s drowning. “I also know that you’re a philosophy professor at Georgetown. He’s always had a thing for the smart girls. You were a college wrestler at Menlo University for an impressive four years during undergrad. You’re a tough girl, and being with Spencer here sure put you through hell. I mean, you were pronounced legally dead after Peter Lewis stabbed you seven times in a fit of rage. Somehow you survived—physically— because let’s face it, how much of the real you died that day?”

“That’s pretty surface level, don’t you think?” You egg her on. “But you didn’t come here to talk about me. This is between you and him.”

His name produces a bitter taste in your mouth— you dare not say it anymore.

“I’m going to go. I’m not part of this. I’ll leave you both to it.” You swing your bag over your shoulder, willing yourself to have the energy to walk out the door.

Your eyes are red and rimmed with tears as you speak, “Thank you, Cat. I’d rather than it have been now than five years into our marriage. Lord knows we wouldn’t have worked out.”

And with that, you leave Spencer’s apartment for the last time, and you leave Spencer for the first. Luke and Prentiss follow you as you rush down the hallway.

It’s almost worse— feeling less than nothing. It would be much more... human... to be consumed by anger. You should be angry. You have every right to want to push Spencer Reid off of Everest. But you don’t.

Because sometimes the day ends. Tomorrow’s a new set of hours. You could pretend that you’d never met him-- that you were never in love. Love felt fictional.

As long as you move forward, fast enough, afraid that do you slow for a moment, you’d be forced to deal with the aftermath properly.

So you sprint.

k why is this just us thanking cat for being a girlboss lol

[elias-code]

Two Left Hooves [1/7]

Choose your own adventure ~ "Intro"

Characters: Technoblade x gn!reader, Philza, Eret

Summary: This is a choose-your-own-adventure!! You met Techno through Phil, helping him get rid of his headache after hibernation. He was immediately infatuated with you. Techno invites you to go to Eret's banquet. When you arrive to prepare for the banquet, he tells you that he will only sleep in his room with you if you wanted, now you get to choose if you want to sleep with him or not…

Warnings: Cussing

--- Phil ---

“Hey, Techno,” I peeked my head around the corner, holding the letter behind my back away from his line of sight.

“Hullo,” He turned to me, hands still in his hair, pin sticking out of his mouth. He was braiding his pink hair, unaware that his worst nightmare was about to come true. “So, mate,” I walked in, hands still behind my back, “I got some mail.”

“Mhm,”

“You remember the egg?”

“Yeah, what about it?” He turned back to the mirror, inspecting the last loop he’d made.

“Eret is hosting another banquet,”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, you’re invited,” his face in the mirror went pale, “since you’re the one who yeeted it.”

Techno paused, unmoving. Slowly, he tied the ribbon at the bottom of the braid, securing it with the pin. He made eye contact with me, his eyes were begging me to yell psych! and run out the door. Instead, I held the opened letter, once hidden behind me, up in the air, presenting it to him.

“Phil…”

“Yeah?” I laughed, this was the most scared I’ve ever seen him.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Nope, look.” I shook it at him, flipping it over to show Eret’s handwriting: To Technoblade and Philza Minecraft.

He shuddered slightly, finally turning to me and taking the letter from my hands. It read:

Technoblade and Philza,

This may seem strange and menacing, but I promise it’s not. Ever since the red banquet disaster, I’ve been thinking about how much I think the people of this server need a pick-me-up. We needed a re-do.

So, I’ve decided to host a banquet, this time out in the open with no bullshit. There’ll be drinks, games, and dancing, and I want you to be there. Since you had a lot to do with the egg’s eventual downfall, I personally think you need to be there, Technoblade.

I’ll tell you what I’ve told everyone else. There’s a plus-one requirement for safety reasons (buddy system), and so I’ve addressed this to both of you. I look forward to your attendance! I suggest wearing something else since I don’t want anyone having flashbacks when they see your royal gown.

On the back of the card, Eret wrote the coordinates and information about the dress code. The card had gold decorations on the edges, curling and twisting like vines, dotted with golden roses complete with thorns. The dress code specified that the suggested colours were black, white, blue, and gold, hence the bordering roses.

“Do you own anything you think you could wear?” I asked as he handed the card back to me.

“I still have the Arctic coat, but if this is anywhere near L’Manburg, it’s gonna be too hot for that.”

“Right, I might have to make something for you then,”

“Alright,” He hesitated, “Do I have to go? That’s a lot of enemies in one place…”

“Yeah, sorry mate, you have to go.” I put the card back into the envelope, closing and pocketing it. “Oh, wait, one thing Techno,”

“There’s more?”

“Um, I can’t go.”

“What?” “I can’t go to the banquet,” I was lying, but he didn’t need to know that, “I’m supposed to be at the ocean monument that day.”

“And your fishing can’t wait?” He raised an eyebrow at me and I shrugged. “Who am I supposed to bring?”

“I dunno, mate,” I shrugged and clicked my heel against the floor, “Maybe you can bring that bird I introduced you to… if you can find them.”

— Techno —

“Phil, who’s this?” I had walked into the kitchen, half-dressed. I was not expecting to see someone else sitting at the table. They looked at me, smiling and waving.

“Oh hello sleepyhead,” Phil remarked, stirring the rabbit stew that hung over the fireplace, “I dunno, they don’t seem to have a name.”

“Hello!” I looked back at them. They were dressed in forest green pants, tucked into black boots lined by silver buttons with fancy engravings, laced in leather strips, looped and tied at the top of the boot. Their top was one of mine, an old long-sleeved white cotton top Phil had probably found in the back of the closet. They had a golden-yellow scarf slung over their shoulders. I waved awkwardly, still half asleep.

“You don’t have a name?” I asked, still confused.

“Uh, I guess not. Phil’s the only person I’ve seen in a while.” They said, pointing at him. He was closing the white under-curtains, almost like he was avoiding the interaction.

“Then what do I call you?”

“Phil’s been calling me the bird.”

“Bird, huh?”

“He says it's because I’m migrating.”

That was strange enough as it was, and I decided to leave it there. Talking was making my headache worse, so I walked over to the stew, immediately recognizing the smell of carrots, potatoes, and chicken over the rabbit smell. My stomach grumbled, attempting to convince me to shove my face into the pot and gorge myself, but I pulled back.

“Is it ready yet, Phi?” I asked.

“No, it still has a couple of minutes, don’t go touching it yet. We should all eat together.”

I could wait a bit longer, I supposed. The smell was enticing, but my attention still lingered on the “bird” sitting at the table, reading a book. I sat down at the table and thumped my head onto it, only to make my headache worse.

“Ughhhh,” I groaned.

“You ok?” The bird asked.

“Headache,”

“Ah, I have something for that!” They picked up a bag from the floor and rummaged around in it for a bit before pulling out a small vial of green liquid. They uncorked it and an overwhelming spinach smell washed over me. “It might smell odd, but it works wonders.”

I lifted my head off the table and took the vial from them, inspecting it.

“Is this thing safe to drink?” I furrowed my eyebrows at them, looking for dishonesty.

They snatched it from me and took a swig, swiftly handing it back to me. “Take that as a yes.” They said.

— The Bird —

I knocked on the door, shivering slightly in the cold. I wore three layers, an undershirt, a turtleneck, and a thick coat. I got a letter a couple of days ago from Technoblade, asking me to go to the banquet with him and inviting me to stay at his cabin before the banquet. I accepted and sent the letter the same day since I knew the mail was slow. Just one day later, I hopped on my horse and made my way to the far arctic.

Techno opened the door and ushered me inside, shutting the door behind me.

“Jesus, you’re shivering,” he said, grabbing his cape off its stand and wrapping me with it. Thankfully, my face was already red enough from the cold that he didn’t notice me blush.

“Is your horse outside?”

“Yeah, I tied her up to the post,” I pulled the enormous cloak tighter to me, “but I don’t think she should stay there for long, it's too cold.”

“Alright, I’ll be right back.” He said, turning from me and walking out the door. The sudden freezing breeze pushed me into the living room, near the fire. I sat down in an armchair and Steve wandered over to say hello.

“Hey, Steve…” I offered my hand to him and he sniffed it, grunting in my face with his fishy breath, “You do not smell good, big boy…”

He huffed like he understood what I said and I chuckled. He sat at my feet as I scratched his head. “At least you’re soft, Steve.” You smiled, “Good boy…”

The door opened and slammed again, Techno walked over dusting his hands off and Steve lumbered over to greet him.

“Hello Steve, you’ve inspected them, yeah?” He baby talked at him. The polar bear was big, almost as tall as Techno standing on all fours. It was strange to see such a big man 'baby talk' an apex predator, so you laughed a bit to yourself.

“What?” He asked, patting Steve on the head.

“Nothing, you’re just being cute.”

He smiled and sat himself down on the couch, crossing his legs and looking at you.

“If I’d left you out there any longer, you would have gotten frostbite,”

You realized you were still shivering in his cloak, “Yeah, thanks for not letting me die out there, and for the cape,”

“If I’d let you die, I wouldn’t have a date for the banquet.”

“Ooh, I’m a date now, am I?” I teased.

He blushed and looked away, still smiling.

“I suppose so,” he whispered.

He stood and offered a hand to me. I took it and stood, following him upstairs to his room, the only bedroom in the house. The room had recently been tidied, the paintings on the wall included snowy landscapes and one of a wither. The curtains were open, the night sky illuminating the room. The moonlight made everything a pale blue, almost making Techno’s hair purple.

“I don’t have anywhere else for you to stay right now unless you want to sleep on the couch.”

“Are you also sleeping here?”

“Only if you’re ok with it,” He said, kneeling by the fireplace and setting logs on the grate.

Would he really? He seems so shy…

— Technoblade —

I could feel my blood rush to my face as they asked if I’d sleep with them. I turned to the fireplace and lit the fire, trying to hide my embarrassment.

“Only if you’re ok with it,” I said.

They paused and my heartbeat harder, unsure what they were going to say. I started preparing the fire, putting the hesitation out of my mind.

////////UNDER CONSTRUCTION BRRRRRRRRR (2/3 complete)///////

Do you allow him to sleep with you?

Yes, tell him you’re going to be cold and need the body heat. (NSFW)

Ask where he wants to sleep. (Fluff)

No, respectfully suggest he sleep on the couch. (SFW)

[lubdubsworld]

City Lights . ( Namjoon x OC)

Pairing : OC x Kim Namjoon.

Genre : Angst. Romance.

Rating 18 + 

Word Count : 2900

Warnings :  Mature Themes , Explicit Sexual Content . Slow burn. Like slower than a snail.

Summary :

Widowed and destitute, Son Yang Mi leaves the comfort of her small , secluded  fishing village and travels to the intimidating city of Seoul with her young son. She has a plan, one that involves finding a job, getting her son into a good school and building a life for herself.

Now, three years later she has a job , working as a live in house keeper for the Kim family, specifically for the son,  Kim Namjoon, a famous rapper and producer. 

Its a job that puts a roof over her head and she’ll do anything to keep it. 

But fate has other plans.

Chapter 1 ~

Akogare (ah-koh-ga-reh)Often translated directly as a sort of frustrated “yearning”, “desire”, or “longing” .

Seoul in summer was a sight to behold. I blinked back against the bright sunlight, staring out into the stunning skyline of the city as the sun rose over it , and although it was just a little past seven in the morning, the air was warm and invigorating. The mid July sun shone down with no mercy, and there was no trace of the rain that had lashed city just the previous night.

It had been three whole years but the relief that came from breathing fresh air, untainted by the damp musk of fishing trowels and sweaty men, was still unrivalled.

I shook off the feather duster in my hand, moving to carefully clean the wicker woven chairs on the artificial lawn in the balcony. Dusting the entire condo down was a mind numbing exercise in patience, so i tried to get it out of the way, early in the morning when my son was still asleep.

At six years old, Junsu was a bright , happy child. Summer vacation meant days sleeping in and evenings spent frolicking with the other kids in the building and he was content with being alone in our small shared room, reading or playing with his toys while I went about the day’s work.

I glanced at the clock, grimacing.

It was almost eight . And although Mr. Kim wasn’t due back home for another twelve hours, I felt a little jittery and nervous.

Kim Namjoon , renowned rapper, producer, writer , poet and what not. The apartment was his but he was usually on tour, traveling all over the world to promote his book and to perform in sold out stadiums. For an A list celebrity, he was surprisingly humble.

For the past three years, him and his model fiancée  Lee Mina had spent a total of maybe seven months in the condo. They were a sweet couple, or so I’d always thought , a bit formal with each other but clearly in love . Mr. Kim was a kind, soft spoken young man and I’d never heard him raise his voice unless he was in the company of his very dear friends.

Just a little over a week ago , both of them  had left Korea for the States , the tabloids screaming about a luxurious destination wedding in the Caribbean and I had been asked to take a few weeks off . The newly weds wouldn’t be back for quite a while and they would let me know when I had to come back to the condo.

I’d been toying with the idea of visiting my in laws in Gwangyog, maybe even dropping by to see some old friends there but yesterday , Mr. Kim’s mother had given me a call letting me know her son was coming home. 

[ 

The conversation went something like this :

Yang Mi, I hope you haven’t left yet?

No, Ma'am, I haven’t.

Joon-ah is going to be back tomorrow.

Oh, is Ms Lee arriving as well?

No, Just him He’s going to be alone.

Yes, Ma'am.

Please don’t mention anything about Mina or the wedding.

No ma'am of course not.

I’ll drop by later . Cook him something warm and filling. And make sure the house is cleaned well.

Yes, Ma’ am.

]

And that was that.

~~~~~~

It took the better part of the day to finish cleaning and setting up the house . I washed the window slats, changed the sheets, arranged the books that had been left scattered all over his bedroom. The walk-in closet was littered with a bunch of his clothes and I made sure his gym bag was stocked with fresh towels, spare clothes and his favorite head and wrist bands. 

For someone so careful and calculated, he was really quite a messy man. 

i did his laundry, making sure he had ample clothes at least for another two weeks, creasing the handkerchiefs and carefully removing lint from his jackets. 

I also carefully sorted out the feminine clothing from the laundry and from the cupboard, folding them neatly and placing them in the lowest shelf of the closet, where he wouldn’t find them. It wasn’t hard, hiding traces of his fiancee from the condo, because it had never really been her home. other than a few spare pieces of underwear and a couple of t shirts and skirts, there weren’t many articles of clothing belonging to Ms. Lee. 

But I still got rid of the bobby pins and hair ties, the spare lip gloss and mascara.

Junsu spent the entire day in our room, reading and drawing, only venturing out every few hours to grab a snack. I left him with his drawing tab ( a gift from Mr. Kim for his 5th birthday )  and his favorite book, asking the security guard at the end of the hallway to keep an eye on the door, while i went out to buy groceries.

Lots of meat, no sea food, healthy snacks and high protein fiber bars. I stocked up on sauces and bought a fresh batch of eggs, oranges and grapes . Mrs. Kim had sent a large amount of kimchi a few weeks ago and that was still in the pantry.

i stopped for a second, staring around at the almost deserted store. Most of the other housekeepers shopped at the bigger, more exclusive store on the other side of the residential complex. But Mr. Kim had a very selective palette, which meant that I had to be very particular about the brands i bought.

When i came back home at around six, Junsu was on the floor in the living space and i felt my heart jump in panic.

“Baby!! I’ve told you not to come out here when I’m not home!” I protested bleakly and he pouted.

“I need to show you my gift for Mr. Kim!!” He said softly. I smiled moving to put away the groceries and glancing at the clock. It was a little past six. I had to call Yungyu.

“Did you draw him something ? “ I asked curiously, checking to see if the beer shelf was stocked. probably should have done that before going out for the groceries, I thought regretfully.

“Yeah! Look!!” Junsu held his tab out and my heart dropped.

For a six year old, Junsu drew very well. And there was really no mistaking the very obvious wedding scene on the screen.

Oh, Good God.

“ That looks amazing honey.” I said gently. “ But, I heard that Ms Lee isn’t coming over this time..”

Junsu frowned.

“Why?”

“Well, I’m not sure. But remember how we spoke about saying the right things? When something upsets someone, we do not bring it up.” I reminded him gently. My son hesitated but nodded.

“Okay. I’m sorry. “ He said softly.

“No baby, its not your fault. It’s just that we want Mr. Kim to be happy right? We don’t wanna upset him...”

He smiled at that.

“When he’s happy, his dimples come out.” He said with a giggle. I laughed.

“yes they do... So let’s try and get those dimples out as often as we can alright? Why don’t you show him that picture you drew of yeontan the other day? He’ll really like that....”

“Okay...but i need to go color it!” Junsu yelled, already running back into our room. I watched him go before reaching for the phone and dialing, Yungyu, the chauffeur.

“Are you on the way here? ” i said briskly.

“Just starting from home...” Yungyu muttered, “ I’m supposed to be on vacation now! Why is he coming back so soon?” 

“Just hurry up !! We can’t keep him waiting!!” I said sharply, before hanging up. 

I made a quick check of all the rooms, filling up water bottles for his gym routine in the morning and stashing them in the fridge before moving to get dinner started. 

i set the water on boil for the stew, before moving to peel cucumbers for the salad. I chopped the cucumber , along with some fresh cherry tomatoes . I watched the water boil, thinly slicing an onion and adding it to the bowl as well. The dressing was pretty simple,  soy sauce, rice vinegar, honey and sesame oil . I sprinkled some sesame seeds on the bowl, used the salad tongs to give the whole thing a nice toss and set it aside. 

I braised the chicken first , peeling and chopping potatoes and carrots to add to the stew . In a few minutes, the rich smell of lightly spiced chicken and garlic and perilla  leaves began filling the kitchen and I turned on the rice cooker as well. 

The door bell rang at six forty and i opened the door to reveal Yungyu. 

I grabbed the keys to the Palisade, handing them over to him.

“Did you hear?” He whispered urgently.

I frowned.

“What?”

“They say Mr. Kim called off the wedding!” He whispered, wide eyed. 

I glared at him.

“Who told you that?” i demanded...

“Seojoon from the gate said-”

“Why don’t you ask Seojoon from the gate to mind his own damn business?” I snapped. 

Yungyu looked suitably chastised. i felt a little bad. Yungyu was still young and curiosity was hardly a sin. 

“His flight lands at eight exactly. Hurry okay?” I said with a smile, ruffling his hair.

He brightened, peering over my shoulder into the house.

“Where’s the little one?” He asked curiously.

“ Painting something for Mr. Kim... Go ahead, hurry up.” I shooed him away, locking the door behind him. I fixed a plate of food for Junsu and sent him to eat, before moving to check on the stew. +

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~` 

By the time eight thirty rolled around I had the table set and ready. I washed my face quickly in the small bath attached to our room , making sure I was dressed well. Junsu wasn’t allowed in the main house unless Mr. Kim specifically asked for him and my son usually stayed in. 

Junsu and I stayed in a bedroom , not large by any means but big enough for a queen sized bed, a table and chair for Junsu and small dresser where I kept a comb and a tube of night cream. I stared at my face, licking my lips as I smoothed my hair out. 

I glanced at the bed. 

Junsu was asleep , having dozed off while coloring his picture and I carefully extracted the tab from under his fingers, moving him around to lay on the soft pillows. I tucked him in gently, brushing the hair off his face. 

“In peace , I will lie down to sleep, for You alone will let me rest in safety.” I whispered gently against his forehead, kissing the soft skin. I felt my lips wobble , a debilitating wave of affection flooding me as the sweet scent of my baby, filled my senses.

 I would die for you, I thought fiercely, kissing him again. 

The sound of the front door opening made me jump. 

Swearing, i smoothed the fabric of my skirt, running to the kitchen. 

“Thank you for picking me up Yungyu, I’m sorry you had to cut short on your vacation.” Mr. Kim’s deep voice filled the hallway and I quickly grabbed a glass, filling it with water and placing it on the dinner tray.

“Not a problem, Sir. “ Yungyu’s cheerful voice responded.

“How are you going home?” Mr. Kim asked. 

“I’ll take the bus.”

A pause and then, 

“Here’s some cash. Get a cab.” 

I could hear the relief in Yungyu’s voice as he let out a , “ Thank you sir.” 

I fixed his plate carefully, the bowl of rice, the bowl of chicken stew, and the salad neatly arranged next to the napkin and the chopsticks. I heard him move across the condo, the sound of his suitcases as he wrestled them towards his bedroom and I frowned. Yungyu should’ve have brought those in for him. 

I finished reheating all of the food and carefully carried the dinner tray to the bedroom. 

Mr. Kim’s bedroom was right at the end of the hallway and the door was open. The full length mirror on the opposite wall showed him sitting on the small couch in his room, legs spread and elbows resting on his knees as he ran his fingers through his hair. 

I raised my hand, ready to knock on the wood. 

“Fuck!” He shouted, kicking out at the coffee table with enough force to send the furniture skidding half way across the room. 

I froze in the hallways stunned. 

“You’re such a fucking fool , Namjoon !!” He muttered angrily and I swallowed, turning on my heel and quickly walking back to the kitchen. 

Maybe I ought to wait till he asked for dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He didn’t ask for dinner. 

I stayed sitting on the floor of the kitchen, waiting and lightly dozing as I heard him talk to his parents on the phone. I heard him open the liquor cabinet in his room, the sound of ice sloshing against glass, the sound of whiskey being poured carefully and i sighed. 

I had to get to bed. It was already a little past eleven. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sometime in the night, I woke up sweating.... 

Wondering what woke me up, I blinked groggily, glancing at Junsu. He was still sound asleep. 

Sighing, I climbed out of the bed, carefully making my way to Mr. Kim’s room, peering in carefully. 

He was asleep on the sofa.

I stared at the way his long legs stretched over the armrest, his lean hips twisted to accommodate his broad shoulders on the couch and I winced. He was definitely going to regret that in the morning. 

I stared at the half empty bottle of whiskey on the table and sighed, moving to take off his shoes carefully. He didn’t stir. 

I grabbed a pillow from the bed, carefully lifting his head and slipping it under. I placed a comforter over his shoulders, pulling it down to cover his legs. 

Force of habit almost made me brush his hair off his forehead but I stopped myself. 

The clock on the wall read three fifty am. God, I was going to feel terrible tomorrow. I carefully tip toed out, shutting the door behind me

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I picked the comforter from the floor, carefully folding it and placing it on the bed, before grabbing the empty bottle of whiskey and glass . i could hear the shower running. The curtains were still drawn in and I tugged on the strings to get them to open. Sunlight spilled in through the floor length windows. The bed wasn’t slept in, so I opened the closet to grab a couple of towels, laying them on the bed for him. 

The bathroom door opened and i quickly straightened, wanting to race out of the room but it was too late. Thankfully he was dressed,  a pair of loose sweats and a loose t shirt . He was running a towel through his hair and his face brightened at the sight of me. 

“Yang Mi! You’re here....” He said cheerfully. 

“Good morning sir.” I said softly, offering him a small smile. 

He smiled brightly, hair damp and dimples deep. The white t shirt he had on was almost fully soaked through and he shook his head, sending stray water droplets all over the place, a few landing on my cheeks. 

“I didn’t see you last night...” He said casually, moving to drop the wet towel in the hamper, grabbing one of the fresh ones I’d laid on the bed. 

“I thought you would like your privacy sir, you looked exhausted.” 

He smiled.

“ Thank you for the blanket and the pillow by the way. And the shoes.” 

I bowed quickly.

“I’ll get your breakfast done, sir.” I bowed again before quickly getting out. 

I moved to the kitchen grabbing the oranges I’d got the previous day . Mr. Kim wasn’t fond of traditional korean dishes in the morning. He preferred freshly squeezed juice and toast, sometimes with an omelet perhaps. 

I fixed his breakfast quickly, setting it all in the tray . He was still moving around in the bedroom and I heard him drag his worktable to the windows, which meant he was going to stay in the bedroom. 

Pouring his coffee into a cup, I carefully picked up the breakfast tray , moving to his room slowly. 

I used my foot to knock on the door.

After a pause of a few seconds, 

“Come in Yang Mi!”

I carefully moved to the small table in front of the couch, placing the tray right in front of him. The scent of his body wash, green apple and strawberries, hit me hard. 

“Where’s Junsu?” He asked casually.

“Still asleep sir. It’s Summer so school’s out.” I smiled, grabbing his phone from the table to make space for his tray. 

The phone buzzed just as I was about to place it back down and I blinked.

 Mina calling.......

 I swallowed, not sure what to do, placing the phone down quickly.

“Uh..you have ...” I waved vaguely at the device before bowing again and moving back. 

“close the door on your way out, Yang Mi...” He said gently and I quickly obeyed. 

I moved to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee for myself. I stayed leaning over the counter and even through the locked door, I could hear him . 

“Just don’t call me Mina...i don’t want to talk about this!!!” 

I swallowed, glancing out of the window again. It was a bright, clear morning. 

A second later, the door to his bedroom slammed open and he stormed out. I watched him from my spot in the kitchen, his fists clenched as he rushed out to the front door.

The door shut behind him and I exhaled. 

Once I as done with my coffee, I moved to his room to clear the breakfast tray. His phone was still on the table.

It began ringing again just as I left the room. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mrs. Kim.” i said respectfully, bowing . She gave me a short smile.

“Where’s Namjoon? I’ve been calling him for the past hour.” She pushed past me into the house and I bit my lips.

“He went out about an hour ago. He left his phone behind.” I explained.

She stopped, sighing. 

“Fine, I’ll wait for him. “ She moved to sit on the couch, glancing around the room. 

“Should I get you something ma'am?” I asked softly and she smiled.

“Get me a glass of lemonade, Yangmi.” She said brusquely and i nodded, running to the kitchen. 

“Did Mina come over?” She called out as I got the lemons out of the cooler.

“No ma'am.” i replied.

“Did she call?” 

  I remembered the phone ringing, how upset it had made Namjoon, how he had stormed out.

“I don’t know ma'am!” I said softly. 

She nodded.

“Okay. You can leave.” She said quietly. i bowed and went back into the kitchen. 

I peered out of the window as I fixed her a glass , and my eyes fell on a familiar figure, coming back in through the front gate. Even from this distance there was no mistaking the long legs and messy blonde hair. 

I bit my lips, mind racing.

 Mrs Kim and her son had a volatile relationship, to say the least. 

And something told me that Mr. Kim was probably not in the right frame of mind to argue with his mother, now. The man was upset but apparently, neither his mother nor his ex fiancée understood that. instead of giving him space they were hounding him. 

I hesitated for a second  before making a quick decision. 

I grabbed the tray with her lemonade and moved to her quickly.

“Thank you.” She said sharply. “ Turn on the Air Conditioner for me, will you?” 

I fumbled with the remote, grabbing his phone from the table , turning it on before moving to the front door and rushing out. 

I almost ran into him as he came out of the elevator , and i jerked back stumbling a bit to stop myself from crashing into his chest. He let out a , ‘ Whoa, “  his hands reaching out to grip my elbows. 

“Careful. What’s wrong?” He asked gently and I swallowed.

“Your mother’s here.” I said quickly, “ Sir.” 

“Oh, fuck.” He groaned. I swallowed.

“You can leave.” I blurted out. “It’s Tuesday. She has her charity work meeting at ten. Its almost nine. She won’t stay long....” 

His eyes met mine, lips parting in surprise. 

“I really can’t meet her now.” He said apologetically.

I nodded.

“Of course, I understand , sir. Just be back in an hour , she’ll be go-”

The elevator buzzed , the doors nearly closing over my shoulders and I flinched. He swore and stuck his arm out to keep it open. 

I stared at him before holding his phone out.

“Here you go sir. “ 

He chuckled taking it from me and shaking his head.

“i feel like a kid, sneaking away from my mom.” His eyes reached mine, twinkling, “ Who would’ve thought the quiet, timid Yang Mi would be my partner in crime. “ 

I didn’t reply, just smiled. 

And then he hesitated. “ Is Junsu awake?”

I blinked.

“Uh...yes sir,...he’s playing in the park downstairs with the other kids.”

“Great... Would you mind if i take him out for ice cream?”

I stared at him. 

“Oh..uh...of course not. Sure.. I mean.. he’ll love that... Sir. Thank you.. You don’t have to -”

“Consider it thank you for helping me with my mother.” He smiled again and i found myself staring at his dimples again. i swallowed. 

“in that case, he loves butter scotch.” I smiled. 

The dimples appeared and i bit my lips. 

“Thank you Yang Mi.” He said slowly. 

“Yes, Sir.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : Finally a hyungline fic !!! ugh... I’ve been wanting to write a Namjoon fic for ages and I really hope you guys will like this one :’( Feedback is much appreciated. 

[morganaspendragonss]

holly's august extravaganza day 26: slowly becoming lovers

for sonia (@pragmaticoptimist34)! i have to confess something - i got so caught up in writing this that i actually forgot to include either of the other two prompts you sent me 🙈 i hope you like it anyway!

second confession - it was supposed to be longer and then it kind of got away from me so i had to draw a line somewhere oops

thanks to @ravens-words, @cosmiicmalex, @halsteadmarchs and liz (sorry, i don't know your tumblr!) for enabling me and to @noxsoulmate for beta'ing!

ao3 | 2.9k | falling in love, fluff, tiny, tiny hint of hurt/comfort, soft tarlos, set between s1 and s2

Things don’t get fixed overnight. They agree to give them a shot, but that doesn’t change the fact that TK is still reeling from his break-up and overdose, nor that Carlos is still hesitant and afraid of pushing too hard at once.

But, slowly, they get to know each other. And, slowly, they start to fall in love.

i. food preferences

“You have to be joking.”

“It tastes like soap, Carlos!”

Carlos groans and drops his head into his hands, shaking his head at this latest revelation from his boyfriend. His boyfriend, who has just made his life—or at least his cooking—a hell of a lot more complicated. “My mamá would have a fit if she could hear you now.”

He almost regrets the words as TK’s eyes alight with interest; he’s been dancing around the topic of his parents for a while now, but it’s not like he can deny what he said. His mom would be having a fit, or possibly attempting to kill TK with a wooden spoon, if she found out that Carlos’s boyfriend was not only a gringo, but one who hates coriander.

“I swear, you won’t even taste it when it’s mixed into the food,” he tries, because coriander is a staple of his cooking, and he can’t even fathom not using it.

But TK just levels him with a firm look. “Yes, I will, Carlos. I’ll always taste it.”

Carlos rolls his eyes at his boyfriend’s theatrics, but sighs, relenting. “Fine. I suppose I can—” He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence, as TK throws his arms around him and plants a noisy kiss on his cheek.

“Thanks, babe,” he says, grinning cheekily.

“Yeah, yeah,” Carlos grumbles, but he can’t help but smile.

There’s very little, he’s finding, that he wouldn’t do for TK.

ii. nicknames

It slips out by accident one day.

“TK,” Carlos groans, followed by a gasp as TK moves just right, sending sparks of pleasure down his spine. “TK, Ty—”

TK instantly freezes on top of him and Carlos’s eyes open, concern rising in him as he takes in the pensive look on his boyfriend’s face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I…” TK shakes his head and forces a smile. “It’s nothing. I’m good, I promise.” He ducks down to kiss Carlos again, but the mood is all wrong, and Carlos gently pushes him back, raising an eyebrow. TK holds out a moment longer, then sighs and rolls away, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s stupid.”

Carlos tuts, reaching over to brush a hand through TK’s hair. “Bet you $20 it’s not.”

“Hope you have $20 then, Reyes,” TK says wryly. He looks over at Carlos and sighs again, biting his lip. “It’s just… You called me Ty.”

“Oh.” Carlos’s eyes widen and he props himself up on an elbow. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking; it won’t happen again—”

TK presses a finger against his lips, cutting him off abruptly. He smiles softly, then removes his finger and caresses Carlos’s cheek. “It’s okay,” he says. “More than okay, actually. I… I’ve always hated my name, but, I don’t know, I guess it sounded right? Like, when you said it? I think I’d kill anyone else who tried, but I really liked it coming from you.”

“Are you sure? You’re not just saying that because—”

Carlos is again cut off, this time by TK’s lips on his. TK moves so that he’s straddling Carlos again, hands pressed against his chest. “I’m sure,” he whispers, a grin playing at his mouth. “Now, weren’t we in the middle of something?”

iii. religion

Christmas sneaks up on him that year. Between helping the city recovering from the solar storm, work in general, the pandemic, and building his relationship with TK, Carlos has completely lost track of the months, until it’s a week before the date and he has nothing planned.

Really, it’s never been a big deal for him; he and his family used to attend mass and make an event out of it when he was a kid, but now he’s an adult, he’s often working, and he hasn’t been to church regularly since he was a teenager. But this year is different. This year, he’ll be spending it with TK, their first Christmas together, and he wants to make it special.

But he’s left it too late—nothing he orders online will arrive in time, the shops are becoming a nightmare, and he honestly has no clue where to even start. So Carlos resigns himself to another quiet Christmas, frustration and disappointment welling in him at the thought of telling his boyfriend.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out one night over dinner, the thought having been gnawing at him for days.

TK raises a brow. “For?”

“Christmas,” Carlos sighs, looking down into his stew. “It’s our first one together and I had all these plans, and then I just sort of… I didn’t forget! But things have been so crazy, and—”

He’s cut off when TK lays a hand on his. When Carlos looks up at him, TK seems to be fighting back laughter, which is confusing at best and potentially mildly insulting at worst.

“Babe,” TK says, grinning, “it’s okay. You might not believe me, but I forgot too. Christmas wasn’t really a thing growing up—my mom’s Jewish, so I used to celebrate Hanukkah on the years I stayed with her, and Dad was working more often than not. I don’t care, I promise.”

Carlos blinks. “You’re Jewish?” Surely he would know if… But they’ve never discussed religion before, and Carlos had kind of assumed TK had the same ideals as him about the church. In hindsight that was stupid and presumptuous, and Carlos can’t quite believe he’d do something like that. An apology is on the tip of his tongue, but TK just shrugs, going back to his stew.

“Half,” he says. “I don’t really practice anymore but I still keep the beliefs with me, if that makes sense?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it does.”

TK smiles at him, and Carlos suddenly realises that this holiday season will be special after all, even if they don’t celebrate anything. Because he’s with TK, which is the most special thing in the world.

iv. how they sleep

Carlos has been sleeping alone for a long time. He’s had a couple of short-term boyfriends and the odd hook-up here and there, but he’s never had someone else in his bed regularly—certainly not regularly enough to get used to it.

TK was hesitant at first to stay over, but once he started to be more comfortable, it was almost a given that they’d be sleeping together whenever their shifts allowed.

And it had been an adjustment.

TK had warned him he tended to move around and be clingy in his sleep, but Carlos hadn’t quite understood what that meant, until now. He is, essentially, trapped under TK, his arms pinned to his sides and one leg thrown over his hip. TK’s head is pillowed on Carlos���s shoulder and his breath is fanning in soft puffs over his skin.

The only way he can move is if he wakes TK up, and there’s no way Carlos is going to do that. His boyfriend looks so peaceful, and Carlos is more than happy to be clung onto like a koala to a branch if it keeps that expression on his face.

In fact, he thinks he can get used to this very easily.

v. pda

In private, their days are filled with gentle touches and stolen kisses. Carlos will be cooking breakfast and TK will slip his arms around him, kissing the back of his neck. TK will be doing one chore or another and Carlos will brush a hand over his back or gently nudge him as he walks past.

But in public, it’s a whole other story.

It’s almost reflexive, the way TK reaches for Carlos’s hand as they’re walking down the street. It’s something they do all the time at home, and even with their friends, but this time, Carlos immediately tenses, seemingly automatically pulling his hand away.

“You okay?” he asks, frowning.

Carlos takes a deep breath, then obviously plasters on a smile, retaking TK’s hand—and TK can feel the tension in the gesture. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” TK gently lets go of Carlos and smiles reassuringly up at him. “It’s okay if you’re not comfortable with touching in public.”

“I’m sorry, I just—”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. This is all on me; I should have asked.”

“But—”

“But, nothing.” He carefully bumps their soldiers together. “You’re entitled to your boundaries, I’m just sorry for overstepping. Tell me next time, please?”

Carlos hesitates, but nods, a gentle press of their arms a silent acknowledgment of agreement and understanding.

vi. scars

Carlos, TK has noticed, likes to pay extra attention to his bullet scar. Whether it’s pressing a gentle kiss over it when they’re in bed, or brushing it with his fingers when wrapping an arm around him, it happens too often for TK to believe it’s anything but intentional.

He doesn’t understand it at first.

Then he discovers Carlos’s own scars.

“What’s this?” he asks, tracing over the thick raised scarring on Carlos’s side. It stretches along the curve of his waist and round his back, and TK has no idea how he hasn’t noticed it before.

Carlos cranes his neck, letting out a hum when he sees what TK’s looking at. His head flops back down on the pillow and he closes his eyes, absently stroking up and down TK’s sides.

“It was...three years ago, maybe?” he says. “I got stabbed on a call. They told me it was pretty touch-and-go for a while, but they fixed me up and I was back at work in a month.”

His eyes are still closed, body completely relaxed, but TK can’t take his eyes off the scar. He reaches up to his own scar, and he gets it.

Carlos’s eyes crack open. “TK?”

“I’m good,” TK murmurs. He breaks his gaze from Carlos’s abdomen and smiles at him. “We both are.”

And if, after that day, Carlos notices him paying more attention to that scar, he doesn’t say anything.

vii. penguin or panda

“You’re out of your mind!”

In Carlos’s defence, a zoo date had seemed like a good idea. He knows TK loves animals, and he himself grew up around them, so in theory, a trip to Austin Zoo should have been the perfect time to get to know each other better while enjoying the day.

Turns out, TK has some very strong opinions on animals, and is willing to budge for absolutely no-one.

“I can’t believe you think penguins are cuter than pandas! I mean, look at them, Carlos!” He gestures emphatically to the panda enclosure, where one is napping on a log. It’s pretty cute, Carlos has to admit, but…

He shrugs. “But remember when the penguins were all huddling together?”

TK makes a noise of outrage, and Carlos has to laugh, then some more at the wounded pout he gets for it. “Is this really a thing for you?” he asks. “Like, is this going to be the dealbreaker for us?”

TK folds his arms and levels him with a stern look. “That depends,” he says. “Meerkats or koalas?”

And, just because he knows it will rile TK up more, Carlos grins and answers, “Meerkats.”

(They don’t break-up over it, but Carlos isn’t so sure that TK will be forgiving him any time soon.)

viii. special interests

“Say you could go back to a moment in history, but only once,” TK says, out of the blue, breaking the comfortable silence of the front room. Carlos stops carding his fingers through TK’s hair and looks down at him, curious. “Where would you go?”

Carlos opens his mouth, but TK doesn’t give him a second to answer. “Is it cliché if I said I’d go to Stonewall? I mean, I’d really like to see dinosaurs in the flesh, or—oh! I was, like, obsessed with pirates as a kid; I thought they were the coolest things ever, and I pretty much idolised Anne Bonny. But I’m pretty sure I’d die immediately if I went to either of those places, so…”

He trails off, a blush rising on his cheeks. “Sorry, I’m boring you.”

“No!” Carlos rushes to say. “No, you’re not. I love history, I just… What makes you ask?”

“It’s something we got into at the station earlier. Mateo brought it up first, I think?”

Carlos hums, pursing his lips in thought. “I guess…” He sighs and shakes his head. “It’s too hard. There’s so many places I’d want to go and people I’d want to meet.”

“But if you had to pick?” TK pushes, sitting upright and looking at Carlos with interest.

“I really want to meet Eleanor of Aquitaine, but if I could only go to one place…” He hesitates and thinks it over some more, but then his eyes catch on the masks hanging along the stairway, and he’s sure. “Tenochtitlan, but before Cortés arrived. It was a whole society, and I just think it would be so cool to see it up close and to know what it was like first-hand. I mean, I’ve read a lot of books, but we don’t have much from the Mexica people, a lot is from the conquerors, and—”

Carlos stops and huffs a laugh. “Now I’m the one boring you,” he says, but TK shakes his head, eyes bright.

“Tell me more.”

ix. coffee order

TK accepts the coffee without even thinking about it, even taking a sip before he realises he never told Carlos what his order was. He curses himself but resolves to drink it anyway; TK isn’t too much of a coffee snob, and he’s certainly not going to reject anything his boyfriend brings him.

He takes a second sip, and he’s so caught up in making a mental note to tell Carlos next time that it takes a minute for the taste to register. And…

It’s his order.

He looks sharply up at Carlos, who is smiling into his own coffee—therefore dispelling any notion of this being an insanely good guess. “How did you know?” he asks, bewildered.

The tips of Carlos’s ears turn pink, but the smile doesn’t leave his face as he looks up at TK. “Our first real date,” he says. “You mentioned that this was your go-to order.”

And TK can’t do anything but stare, because their first date was weeks ago, and Carlos still remembered, and it’s just…

He thinks—no, he knows—he’s falling in love.

x. fears

“Weirdest fears, go.”

TK has to laugh at the perplexed look Carlos sends him at the question, the straw of his boba hanging out of his mouth. Now that they’ve figured a sort of rhythm out between them, they decided to try the boba place again—there have been no emergencies or disasters so far, so TK is counting it as a win.

“Come on,” he continues. “Last time we were here, you said we barely knew each other—which was true—so now we’re going to fix it.”

Carlos’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “By telling each other our weirdest fears?”

“Exactly!” TK grins. “I’ll go first if you’re too chicken. Mine is slicing my hands open or cutting some fingers off with ice skates.”

“What?” Carlos breathes, disbelief all over his face. “I’ve never been ice skating but I’m pretty sure your hands aren’t supposed to go anywhere near the blades.”

“I didn’t say it was rational.” TK sips his boba, raising an eyebrow at Carlos. “Your turn.”

Carlos swallows, suddenly very interested in the table. “I, uh. When I was a kid, my Tía Lucy had a snake get into her pipes. She only discovered it when she went to the toilet one morning and it was just...sitting there in the bowl. I was terrified for years that the same would happen to us, and it’s kind of become a reflex to check.”

“Oh my god.” TK can’t help but burst out laughing, even though he feels bad for it as Carlos covers his face with his hands. “I’m sorry, I know it’s a real thing for you, I just…”

But Carlos’s shoulders are shaking too and, bizarrely, TK really does feel closer to him now.

It’s a good feeling.

xi. long-term commitments

Carlos is surprised when TK is the one to bring it up first.

“Do you ever think about the future?” he asks one day, head in Carlos’s lap, staring up at the ceiling.

Carlos pauses the show he’s technically supposed to be watching and quirks an eyebrow at his boyfriend. “Sure,” he says. “What about the future exactly?”

TK hesitates, and his voice comes out a lot quieter when he next speaks. “Like…” He sighs, a small flush rising on his cheeks. “The future. Our future. Us. Maybe...marriage, or…”

He trails off, practically whispering by the end of it. His gaze has shifted from the ceiling to the frozen TV screen and he’s chewing on his bottom lip, body stiff with tension. “Sorry,” he mutters. “Forget about it.”

But Carlos is learning to read TK, and he knows he was looking for reassurance. “I mean, yeah,” he says. “I think about it. Do you?”

TK stares up at him, wonder in his eyes. “After New York, I thought… But yeah. Yeah, I do.”

They share a smile as they lock eyes, and Carlos knows that they’re on the same page here. That, distant though they may be, both of them can hear wedding bells in their future.

[ssahotchhner]

angel of spite

hi, i wrote a quick little something about the reader intentionally making hotch jealous as revenge. i hope you like it (: i'll be working on a few requests in my inbox next. i also finally made a masterlist which i'll link below!

masterlist

questions, comments, concerns

You supposed you should have known better than to spite Aaron for staying at the office too late, again. You had simply texted him that since he was going to be working late to not expect you to be there when he got home. Maybe that had been unfair to him, and you were normally so patient with his work schedule, but the last three nights in a row he had promised to be home for date night and continually cancelled last minute. Tonight, you had gotten angry when he texted you yet again, apologizing and saying he would be back late.

He tried calling you over an hour after you had sent the text message, having just then seen it in the throws of a difficult case, but you didn’t pick up. He tries to push down the flare of annoyance he feels, after all, this was the third time he had flaked on you. But still, you were acting like a child. He also knew part of the reason you were doing this was because you knew it would piss him off.

All he wanted at the end of a hard day was to see you waiting in bed for him with open arms. He put on a big show of being the dominant one in the relationship, but both of you knew Aaron became putty in your hands when you gently scratched at his scalp and whispered sweet nothings in his ear. You purposely took that away from him, knowing it was one of the only things that could get him through a tough work day. The more he sat at his desk trying to work, constantly checking his phone to see if you’d called or texted again (you hadn’t) the more angry he became. In fact, he stormed out of the BAU without saying goodbye to anyone without finishing his report.

He called you over and over again until you started sending him straight to voicemail. And so by the time he’s able to make an educated guess about what bar you’re in, his rage ripples off him in waves. He flashes his FBI badge to the bouncer to get inside without waiting in line, something he’s definitely not supposed to do, and heads up the elevator to the rooftop. Once up there, he heads straight to the bar. He scans the room quickly, but you’re nowhere to be found. Until, across the room, sparkling golden crescent moons dangled from someone’s ear. Aaron knew those earrings, he had bought them for you for your birthday this year. And standing in front of you is a broad, tall man. Not as tall as Aaron, but he was built a bit wider than Aaron, as if to make up for it. You sit on the arm of the couch, you look relaxed, your legs open just enough to get the man that was in front you salivating.

When your eyes settled on him, you couldn’t help the cocky smile that lit up your mouth. Unbridled fury filled his face when he saw the lawyer in front of you that was clearly wondering what you’d let him do to you in bed. You sigh as Aaron begins walking over you and turn to look at the lawyer, “I’m really sorry about this.” You say, cutting off whatever he was saying.

He frowns at you, “What?”

But Aaron was here now, “Hi baby,” You say sweetly, “I didn’t think you were going to make it tonight.”

He gives you a withering look as if to say I’ll deal with you later, before turning to the lawyer. “This is Ronnie, he’s a lawyer.”

Ronnie stared from Aaron, who was still silent, to you and back again. “And… who is this?” He refers to Aaron.

You open your mouth, but Aaron speaks first, “Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief of the BAU. I’m also her boyfriend.” He gives the lawyer a look that anyone in opposition to the unit chief had experienced many times over the course of his career.

I’m sorry, you were mouthing to Ronnie from behind Aaron’s shoulder. “She didn’t mention a boyfriend.” Ronnie says.

You sigh, leave it to you to pick the one guy in this room that would decide to challenge Aaron Hotchner rather than just apologizing and walking away, “Oh, you idiot.” You murmur.

Aaron tilts his head to the side in an almost predatory way, “Are you suggesting that I’m lying?”

“I’m suggesting that the lady obviously doesn’t want you since she didn’t mention you, Mister FBI.”

“Oh, God help us.” You shake your head and say into your lap and the next time you look up Aaron’s fist has connected with the man’s face and whiskey had splashed on the floor and your ankles. At that your eyes widen, “Aaron, what the fuck?” Aaron had given many men that flirted with you a firm talking to, sometimes escalated to yelling, but never in the entire time that you’d known him had Aaron physically hurt anyone who had advanced on you.

Aaron puts a firm hand on your wrist as a commotion begins to gather around the two of you and pulls you away. He doesn’t speak as he practically drags you out to the back door, down several flights of stairs and out another door behind the building. Once the cold night air hits you, you pull your wrist away from him, “What the hell did you do that for?”

“Did you want him to fuck you?” He practically growls.

“No,” You say, exasperated, “Aaron, we play this game all the time, you’ve never hit someone.”

“You’ve never deliberately gone out of your way to flirt with someone else.”

It was true, you supposed. You always let the men come up to you if they were interested, but you never were the one to initiate. Why would you when no one would compare to Aaron anyway? Today you had come here with specific intentions to speak with someone that would piss off Aaron. “You’re right,” You admit softly, “I’m sorry, I just… I wanted you to feel what I’ve been feeling.”

“Do you think I enjoy coming home late and not spending time with you?”

“Yes, I do! You love your job!”

“So you behave like a child because you’re jealous of my job?”

When he says it out loud like that, it sounds ridiculous and your eyes water, “Yes.” You say quietly, “Because I need to make sure you still want me just as much as your job.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, “Honey, of course I do, but I can’t control when I have more paperwork or a heavier caseload than usual.”

You feel deflated and stupid all of a sudden with the condescension that’s written so clearly on Aaron’s face. “Whatever, let’s just go home.”

“Sweetheart—“

“I don’t want to talk about it. Did you drive the SUV here?”

He looks at you hopelessly and then sighs, “Yes.”

You let him walk a couple of steps ahead of you the whole way, not wanting to let him hold your hand if you were close enough. He did open the car door for you, but you didn’t look at him as you climbed in.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t consider your feelings more this week when I cancelled our dates.” Aaron says. You remain quiet. “I’m nearly certain I’ll be off work this weekend. I’ll make it up to you then.”

You can’t help the roll of your eyes, “You have to stop making me promises that you can’t keep. We all know you’ll probably get a case in the middle of the weekend.”

His fingers flex on the steering wheel, “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“Aaron, I’m not even mad about you not being here all the time. I accepted that when we first started dating. I just hate when you promise you’ll do something and then you don’t do it. We planned this dinner weeks and weeks ago and you swore to me you’d get it off. And then we had to reschedule the reservation three nights in a row and you still didn’t show. Then you do show up, but only for the chance to be mad at me and condescend me which just tells me that you could have left work tonight if you wanted to. That’s why I’m mad.”

He supposed you were right. He had ended up leaving work early because he was upset with you. He knew that hadn’t been your intention, you had expected him to quietly stew in his anger until the next morning or until you had come home that night. But he had done it all the same, unable to bear even the idea of you flirting with another man in his absence. He figured it had to do with previously being cheated on because of his job, but he knew you would never do that. Knew that your relationship wasn’t fundamentally broken in that way, could tell by the way adoration still glowed in your eyes when he came home every night. But if he wasn’t careful, he wondered if you ever would. Just the thought had his knuckles whitening as he clenched the steering wheel. It was this thought that had made him punch that lawyer back at the bar.

When you arrive home, you get out of the car without waiting for Aaron, unlocking the door before he’s even out of the car and heading inside, heels in hand. Jack was sleeping at a friend’s house tonight as it was supposed to be date night. You don’t slam the bedroom door, but you close it as Aaron is walking down the hallway which in his mind is the same thing. He stops in the middle of the hallway, wondering if he should go in anyway. A minute later, he hears the intro to The Phantom of the Opera blaring from your bedroom.

He sighs, “Fuck.” He murmurs to himself and turns away from the room. Your mutual love of the theater had been something the two of you had bonded over early in the relationship. Aaron had learned quickly there was a specific stage performance of Phantom of the Opera that you turned to for comfort. If he ever came home to it playing, he knew you had had a bad day. Rarely, though, had you put it on after a fight with him.

He heads to the kitchen and turns on the electric kettle figuring he’d better come into the bedroom with your favorite tea if he was going to brave it at all. He sits down as he waits, resting his head in his hands. The two of you rarely ever fight and so Aaron is still trying to figure out how to do that with you in a productive way.

The kettle switches off and he pours the boiling water into your favorite mug, dunking your favorite tea bag before leaving it to steep. He takes a deep breath before picking up the mug and walking to the bedroom. When he enters, you don’t look at him until he stops by your nightstand, noticing he brought you tea. The gesture is sweet and so you sigh and pause the show.

“Hi.” You say softly to your boyfriend who’s still standing next to you.

“Hi.” He says gently, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You say, and he knows it’s a test.

“For making promises I know I can’t keep. For leaving work early after I told you I wouldn’t be able to solely to punch whatever man wanted to sleep with you. For patronizing you.”

You cover your hand with his, “And I’m sorry for flirting to intentionally make you upset. You know I’d never actually do that, right?”

Aaron looks down at your hands, “I saw the way you had spread your legs for him, just a little bit, and I…” He sighs, “I never told you this, but my last wife cheated on me because I wasn’t around enough and seeing you like that, I guess I just…” He trailed off shaking his head, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

“Baby,” You say softly, eyes wide, “I’m so sorry, I had no idea… I never would’ve done that if I had known.”

“I know.” He gives you a small smile.

“Why don’t you come lay down and tell me about your day?”

His smile grows and he crawls into bed, laying his head in your lap and your fingers begin combing through his hair as he talks about the case.

[softcallofdutyimagines]

More Then a Woman | Frank Woods x Fem!Reader | Chapter 7 - Finale

Summary:

It all comes down to this. Will Frank be able to make things right?

Tags: Slow burn, fluff, age difference, angst

Tag requests: @direwolfspostsrandomshit

Chpt 1 | Chpt 2 | Chpt 3 | Chpt 4 | Chpt 5 | Chpt 6 Warnings: strong language, age difference, and references to depression like symptoms and past childhood trauma

Another hour passes. Another beer down.

The television drones on in the background while he stares right through it. Why is he even watching this? He hates TV.

He should be training today, maybe the gym or the firing range, but… He just doesn’t feel like it.

His stomach growls. He looks at the clock. He should get something to eat, but… He doesn’t feel like that either.

At last the cramping moves him to action, and sluggishly he gets up and wanders to the kitchen. He grabs his go-to as of late, a bag of chocolate chips for baking. His diet’s been such shit lately, and he knows it’s not helping. He hates that. And he loves it. Because right now he’ll do anything just to get even a flicker of feeling.

Good. Bad. He doesn’t care.

He just wants to feel.

It’s been a couple weeks since he last saw you, out back behind the CIA gym, and he’s been numb ever since. Mason’s been trying to bring him out of it all this time.

‘You did the right thing’, he says. ‘She’s just a kid, she doesn’t know what she’s doing’, and then, ‘If anything, you did her a favor. She doesn’t really want to get caught up like that with an old guy, right?’, he laughs.

He eats another handful of chocolate and looks down at himself. ‘She doesn’t want to...’ Is he really that repulsive? He runs a hand over his belly. It’s been feeling more rounded than usual.

Fuck.

For a moment, that same old burning, consuming flare of fury he’s so used to getting rises up. He grips the plastic bag so tightly, his knuckles turn white.

His discipline has been getting looser and his belt has been getting tighter, the polar fucking opposite of how things should be. His nostrils flare and lips draw back to reveal tightly clenched teeth, like a dog readying for an attack. Every muscle in his body tenses as he bores holes into nothing in particular. He starts to cock his arm back.

Throwing something will help him feel better.

Right?

He aims for the wall and winds up for an all star pitch, and then…

and then…

He can’t even muster the motivation for that.

As quickly as it came, the anger leaves, and as he lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his entire body relaxes once more. What the fuck is wrong with him anyway?

What, mommy and daddy didn’t love him enough, so now he throws little tantrums whenever the fuck he feels like it? He mocks himself, feeling almost ashamed suddenly of all his outbursts, but when he thinks about it…

Yeah.

Maybe that...

He sighs, suddenly feeling extremely defeated and very alone. Maybe he shouldn't be surprised you left him. Everyone else who ever loved him did.

Woods drops the bag of chocolate from his limply hanging arm and watches the pieces scatter and roll all over the floor.

Whatever. He’ll eat something else.

This is how it’s been for weeks and this how it’ll be for the foreseeable future. He lazes around, completely numb to the outside world, grazing his pantry and doing anything to distract himself from his thoughts. If only any of it worked. Then at night he’ll lay awake well past midnight, until either regular exhaustion or exertion from shedding tears sends him to sleep.

But it wasn’t always like this.

After the first few days since he chased you off, he tried to make up for it.

He called.

He tried to see you at work.

He even sent you some fucking flowers and a letter.

Not a word back.

Well, aside from the ‘Get the fuck out of here, and don’t you fucking dare come back’ he got when he came to your office. After that one…

He hasn’t cried that hard over a woman in… Well… Ever.

And that’s what really gets to him, isn’t it? Just a woman. You’re just a fucking woman. There’s billions of others out there… And yet, he can’t manage to land even one, can he?

This message plays back in his mind over, and over, and over again.

Even now, as a slow stream of tears leak from his eyes to his pillowcase. He looks over just a few inches away to the empty half of his bed. Frank sniffs and swipes at his nose before gently plopping his hand on the pillow beside his. The fabric is icy cold against his skin.

You know, Alex told him once that he’ll lay in his wife's spot on the bed to warm up the sheets for her at night.

She hates the cold, and Alaskan nights are no joke. Would you like that? He wonders. He heard once that women are always fucking cold. He’d warm up your sheets for you, you know. Or maybe, you’d like a blanket? He’d get you one. A nice one! Fresh and new, not any of the tattered shit he keeps in his linen closet.

Or, maybe, you’d like it more if he just… Held you? He could keep you warm all by himself if you wanted him to. Would you even like him to?

Would that make you happy?

Would he make you happy?

A fresh round of tears breaks over him.

He closes his eyes and curls in on himself as he lets the sobs take over him. Damn it, he promised himself he wouldn’t do this again… He thinks about you far too much. All the time, really. And where does it get him? Somewhere about like he is now, he supposes.

He stews in his own wretchedness like this for quite some time, and it’s not until a few days later that anything changes.

Mason pounds on the door of the dingy little house, “Frank?”, he calls, “Frank, open up you bastard, I know you’re in there!”

Truthfully, he’s only in town on some work related business, but… He can’t just stand by and let his friend suffer like this.

So, he waits and waits, and pounds and pounds until he's sure the door is about to come off the hinges. Mason cups his hands to the crack of the door, shouting into it as loud as he dare, “I’m not leaving until you come out here asshole!”

At last, a quiet voice comes from the other side, “What do you want?”

For a moment, Mason is rather dumbfounded. Never before has he ever heard his friend sound so soulless. So… broken. He shakes his head, and pulls himself out of it, “Frank will you open up? I’m here to check on you man!”

Woods sighs, “Don’t waste your time”, the voice trails off as though he’s walking away.

“Hey!”, Mason pounds on the door again, “Son of a bitch, get back here!”

The door swings open abruptly, and Mason nearly falls over as the door’s taken out from him. He stumbles a moment, then catches himself as he stands up straight.

Mason locks eyes with his old friend, and Woods says nothing. Alex takes in the sight of him. His stubble is out of control, the bags under his eyes are dark and purple, and the undershirt he’s wearing could’ve used a wash about a week ago.

“Jesus…You look like shit”

“Thanks”, Woods replies flatly, “Now go away”

He makes to close the door, but Mason stops him, “Wait wait wait… Ok, I’m sorry, I just… Wow, um… Can I come in at least? Let’s talk about this”, Alex motions to Woods in his entirety.

“Do I have a choice?”

Mason pushes the door all the way open, letting himself in and taking his friend by the shoulders as he leads him further into the house, “No, we’re having a fucking intervention”

He leads him to the living room and clears a pile of clothes and trash off the cushions so they can sit down. Alex commands his friend to take a seat, then follows suit. Once they’re both settled, Mason grows serious but maintains a cautious, sympathetic veneer.

Mason rubs his hands together and gives it to him straight, “Look, I know you feel like you fucked up. I know you’re feeling lonely and it’s got you in the dumps. But… Come on man, look what’s been going on with you!”, He gestures to the living space around them.

Dirty laundry and neglected trash sit in little piles all around in a room that smells of old must with a faint, queasy scent of booze. “This is no way to live, buddy!”

Frank says nothing. Instead, he sits and listens without even attempting to make eye contact, like a child receiving a tiresome lecture.

Alex grits his teeth and tries to keep his temper in check. “So… What I’m trying to say is…. Maybe you need to get out of here, you know? Go to a game, take a vacation, something!”, he scoots a bit closer, taking on a more personal tone with his old friend, “I don’t want to see you destroy yourself like this Frank…”

Woods recoils at that, snapping to life as though he’d just now entered the conversation, “I’m not! I just… I need some time to get over this, alright!”

Mason casts an exaggeratedly doubtful look at the other man. Frank jumps to defend himself once more, but Alex cuts him off, “Ok ok! How about this, let’s you and me go out for a little bit huh? Have some beers, some guy time! I just want you to get out of this place for a little while, is that so bad?”

Frank grumbles a bit, but somewhere in there is an agreement. Mason cheers, "That's the spirit!", and drags his friend upstairs to clean up. He pushes him off to shave and shower before going downstairs to help himself to the kitchen.

It takes far longer than he anticipated, but Alex doesn’t go up to pressure the old Sargent even once. At last, the staircase creaks softly as Woods descends. He looks like a new man. Clean clothes, shaped up beard, and a gentle wafting of clean, musky shampoo emanating from him.

Woods walks up without much fanfare for himself, but Alex offers him a smile and a firm pat on the back, “There, now isn’t that better? You look great!”

Frank grunts and perhaps even mutters a thank you, but Mason is too busy trying to keep the momentum up. Once more, he drags his friend along and out to the car. The sun is starting to set and options for places to go are beginning to dwindle. Woods wonders where they’re going, and yet as the streets race by, he finds himself caring less and less.

By the time the car comes to a stop, he’s nearly fallen asleep.

Mason turns off the engine and shakes him awake, “Hey don’t fall asleep on me now, we’re just getting started!”

Woods snaps awake, but has to shield his eyes immediately. It seems impossibly bright out considering how late it is. He blinks a few times and rubs his eyes. Once they're fully adjusted, he finds that what he sees does nearly nothing to alleviate his confusion.

Before him stands the front of a pulsating night club. Blue and purple neon blaze in the dusky twilight. He can only imagine how they must look in the dead of night. A pounding beat comes from somewhere within, no doubt the drum track to some popular, modern song. Small clusters of younger people and a handful of adults hang around the doors pregaming for what they must be anticipating to be a long, wild night.

The pair get out of the car, but Woods is bewildered all the while. When Alex finally comes around to him, he can’t keep silent any longer, “What the fuck did you bring me here for?”

Mason seems almost taken aback, “For some fun? Come on, I know this isn’t really your scene but maybe that’s exactly what you need! Something new and fun, right?”, he doesn’t wait for a response, instead he pushes his friend along as they head towards the entrance.

The air seems thick and hazy around him, a fact only highlighted by the glowing miasma created by the neon interior. If Alex wasn’t pulling him along, he’s sure he’d get lost.

Alex takes him over to a table buried back in the corner. They take a seat and despite being right across from each other, Mason nearly has to shout to be heard over all the noise, “Want a drink?”

Woods thinks about it for a moment, still taking in the environment as he does so. He’s trying to find the bar, and when he does he figures it’s impossible to miss. A huge back wall of glass bottles, all lit up by a halo of purple neon and cool fluorescent lights stands bright as a beacon behind a solid bar top and array of stools and customers.

“Sure, I can get my own”

“Great! Hey, grab my usual would ya? I’m gonna take a leak real quick”, he points over his shoulder and excuses himself as he makes for the restrooms.

This… is not at all what he wanted.

Suddenly, Woods feels trapped and alone again, no better than he was back in his own home. Except now he’s surrounded by the heat, noise, and stench of over a hundred other people.

The lights feel heavy and blinding, the pulsating pop music, deafening. He trudges up to the bar slowly yet surely, but with every step he comes closer to committing to his plan of escaping back to Alex’s car.

He never should’ve went along with this… he was just fine at home, damn it.

Lost in his thoughts and half blinded by the smoke and lights, he runs smack into another person. With a dampened thud, they hit the ground hard. Wood swears under his breath and figures he can at least offer a hand. He bends down to help up the fallen individual, only to see…

You.

Suddenly, it’s as if all the haze and fog has cleared from his eyes. He can see you clear as day down here, and the noise and smells of the crowd all fade away. A soft blue glow highlights your features, and an electric magenta bounces off your hair. The sparkling, sequined little dress you wear glitters in the halo of light descending around you, and a thousand flecks of light reflect back onto his worn, tired face.

Woods' hand hangs in mid air, half way through it’s journey to assist you. He whispers your name, quietly and fondly, as though he never thought he’d see you again.

For the first time in what must have been days, a smile breaks free from his stern glower.

But all you see is the asshole who teased you along for weeks, only to give you the highest embarrassment by sending you off like a misbehaving child after you were at your most vulnerable with him.

You were ready to give him your very body, and he only felt up what he wanted and sent you off.

With a sneer, you slap his hand away and hop up on your own. You don’t even bother to spare him a word. Instead, you stare daggers into him and walk off.

For a moment. For a second time… He watches you go.

He should let you walk away.

After what he did, you deserve at least the privacy. And that’s aside from the fact that you’re clearly pissed.

But he can’t. Not again.

“Hey, wait!”, he dashes after you, shoving his way through the crowd. A little too roughly, he grabs your upper arm and spins you around. You yank yourself free from his grip and glare right through him. Even through all the rage…

You look so beautiful in this light.

“I… I- uh. Hey”

“Hey?”, your blood is boiling. Is that all he has to say for himself?

The venom in your voice makes him recoil, shrinking back into himself. But still… “I uh, I just… H-how are you… I didn’t think you’d be in a place like this, heh…”

Out of pure manners, you respond, “Fine. What are you doing here?”, you cross your arms, defensive, but genuinely curious.

Woods looks over his shoulder then all round, searching for any sign of Mason. Nothing. He snaps his attention back to you, trying to come up with any reason at all to explain himself. Frank stutters for an answer, but you end your indulgent lapse before he can say anything coherent and turn to walk away.

“Wait! I… I-I miss you...”

You whip around, seething with anger. Then, very seriously, you ask, “Are you following me?”

“What? No! Fuck no! I just… I miss you, that’s all!”

You scoff, “Well maybe you should’ve fucking thought of that first”

“...You’re right”

That stops you dead. This is nothing like the Woods you know… You can’t recall a single time he’s had the humility, let alone the balls, to admit that he’s wrong.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah…”, he sighs, and even in the darkness of the club you can see a glimpse of just how much pain he’s in, “Look… I shouldn’t have done that, back there behind the gym. You trusted me and I fucked it up. I know. It’s just… I was scared”

A biting edge creeps back into your voice. You don’t buy that. “Scared? Of what, getting caught?”

“What? No! I was scared… that I was taking advantage of you, alright?”

You blink, and suddenly all the rage leaves you, as though the hot air was deflated right out of you. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“Well I mean… You know… Y-you’re just a kid, and I’m… not. I just- It didn’t feel right. Hell, I didn’t even get a chance to ask if you really wanted all that, I just… went for it”

You take a little step closer, your hard gaze softening just a touch, “Well… It’s not like I was saying no”, you chuckle

“Yeah, but that’s not the fucking same, you know?”

You look away, “Yeah…”

“So… Anyway… I’m sorry, alright?”

At last, you turn back and smile at him, “Alright. I forgive you, and… thanks. For saying that”

Woods nods and accepts your thanks. The two of you share a little smile and a short pause of uncertain silence until he breaks the silence, “So… What now?”

You look him up and down. He’s wearing jeans and a tightly fitting flannel, a stark contrast to all the trendy, flashy fashion of the rest of the clubbers, and yet it’s so… him. You trace a finger down his limp, tattooed arm, stopping at his fingers to intertwine them with yours.

“How about a dance?”, you tug his hand gently, then nod towards the dance floor.

A feeling like euphoria washes over him, and time seems slow as he floats along while you tug him through the crowd. Somewhere in the beautiful, prismatic show of lights, he hears himself agree. You lead him to a cramped, but vacant spot on the glowing dance floor and turn an ear to the music, “Hey, I love this song…”

Woods perks up to listen, just in time to catch the start of More Than A Woman, muffled slightly by all the noise and bustle of the crowd.

It’s like it’s playing from within a dream.

You rest your hands on his chest, letting them slide down so that the heels of your palms sit where the curve of his stomach begins to swell out. Frank has his hands on your waist, swaying in time with you slowly to the music. He clears his throat and looks away from your sparkling, gorgeous eyes, a nervous blush creeping up his neck.

He knows you’ve been over this before, but… “Yeah, uh… so, you know, I’ve been thinking I should lose some weight... You know, while you’ve been… gone”, he moves your hands up from his belly to clasp behind his neck.

You quirk up your brow, a confused smile on your lips, “Why?”

“Uh, I don’t know… I think it makes me look old, I guess”

You laugh and come a little closer, your bodies nearly touching, “Well, if it means anything... I don’t think so”, You inch up and kiss his cheek, bringing one hand down to rest on his softened pect. He huffs a nervous laugh and masks the flattered embarrassment with a timid smile as he covers your hand with his, holding it there just a little while more.

He's never forgotten how amazing your touch alone feels.

He clears his throat and re-establishes eye contact. A whole kaleidoscope of color plays inside your eyes. He could get lost in them for the rest of his life. “You uh… wow. You- you look beautiful tonight...”, he steals a quick glance as your little, sparkly dress and the neon rainbow refracting off the thousands of tiny sequins, “Nearly gave this old man a heart attack when I first saw you”, he laughs.

“Oh?”, you smirk and lead him into a turn, “ In that case, you should see me take it off”

His heart pounds underneath your palm, but his face looks frozen with surprise. He doesn’t hear women say that kind of stuff to him often…

“D-do you… Do you mean that?”

“Well, I mean… Maybe after this, I’d love t-”

“No, not that. I mean… Me. D-do you really feel that way about me?”

You stop dancing for a moment.

His words cut deeply with the quiver of hope they carry, as though it had never crossed his mind that someone would want to be with him.

“Of course I do. But… I want you more then just for that you know”, you chuckle.

His cheeks go pink, “Oh. Damn, so you like that kind of st-?”

You place a single finger to his lips, shushing him. “I meant… I love you”

Your words echo back to him in slow motion, as though reality and time itself are breaking all around him to unveil a haven of euphoria. His heart is beating in his ears, and yet it sounds slow and calm, just like the wild crowd and the blaring music all around him.

Everything grows quieter and softer until it all fades away, leaving behind just you and him.

He wracks his brain, trying to remember the last time he heard those words, only to come up empty handed. It’s been so long… He can’t even remember.

Frank looks back at you, a little neon angel clinging to his beat up old shirt. Gorgeous. That’s all he can think of when he sees you. He almost feels like he shouldn't even have the privilege to do so. You bat long lashes up at him and a slow smile draws across your soft, glossy lips.

More than a woman…

Slowly, you come up to meet your lips to his. You’ve kissed before, but this… It feels like the first kiss of his entire life.

He presses back gently, sucking softly as he draws you close. You smell like dark cherry and amber, some combination of perfume and lip gloss. The faint smell of whisky and musk radiating off of him mingles with the divine scent of you.

He can taste it all on his tongue, even as he slides it over to flick across yours.

More than a woman to me…

At long last you part, breathing softly as your eyes drift up to meet one another's. And when he looks down into those deep, glittering pools, he wonders how he never saw all the love and warmth they hold for him. The love they always had.

“I love you too…”, he whispers, tears stinging at his eyes and voice, before he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

And now? The love they always will.

[a-cupof-jo]

Set Up My Heart Pt. 12

Pt. 11 -- Pt. 12 -- Final

~~

College volleyball player!Johnny Suh x reader

Rivals-to-lovers

Fluff and angst

Synopsis: Ever since that fateful day Sophomore year of high school, Johnny Suh had been an insufferable thorn in your side. Once you made it to college you thought the two of you would never have to see each other again. That is, until a sudden school transfer has the entire university buzzing.

Warnings: some language, making out, toxic coping mechanisms, drugs mentioned, heavily suggestive, unedited  

~~

He hadn’t changed much since the last time you had seen him. It is surprising really, that the only noticeable change in your father was the white hairs that began to cover his head and the lines that crossed over his face. Cool air wrapped around you as the distance of the breezeway between you and your father quickly diminished. The man continued staring at your apartment door, his hand coming up to knock at it again. You glanced at the dark windows. Obviously Desiree and Chonhee are not there. Jaehyun stayed in step with you as you ventured closer, “How long has he been here?”

“30 minutes maybe?” Jaehyun shrugged as you glanced over to him. “Chonhee caught him on her way out and told Jungwoo that he was here for you. He said that he’s your dad.”

You scoffed, “He hasn’t been my dad for over 10 years. He’s really nothing more than a man that lived in my house for the first 17 years of my life. You can go back home. I can handle this.” Jaehyun gave you a skeptical look and opened his mouth to say something before you pushed him away, “Go, it’s okay.” He pursed his lips and sent a look to your father before walking back down to his apartment. Lila popped her head out the doorway as he walked in and it was apparent that there was going to be a few pairs of eyes watching out for you. Spinning back to the front door, you crossed your arms over your chest. “Why are you here?” The man turned to look at you, your voice starling him out of whatever universe he had been in.

“Pumpkin!” His arms extended as if he was waiting for you to hug him. “It’s been so long! You’ve gotten so grown up. How old are you now? 18? 19?”

“21,” you stepped away as he moved closer to you. Your hip pressed back into the hand rail that sat at the edge of the concrete walkway. “Why are you here?”

“I just wanted to see my little girl,” he smiled at you and you couldn't help the twist of distrust that stung your gut. “Maybe catch up on what's going on in your life. It’s been a little while since I’ve seen you.”

“It’s been five years,” he winced at your flat voice. “And I don’t care to catch up.”

“Pumpkin-”

“Please, leave. I don’t want you here, and don’t call me Pumpkin.”

“Y/n,” he sighed. “I didn’t want to do this, but I didn’t come here just to see you. Your mother wouldn’t listen to me and I didn’t know who else to turn to.” He looked so down. So broken and like he was too scared to talk to you. Concern lit up your insides as he ran a hand through his hair. “I need some money. I’m in a bad situation right now and-”

“That’s what you came here for? Money?” Disbelief marred your face. “How did you lose it all this time? Gambling? Your dealer came across a big stash? You invested in another scam startup company?”

The embarrassed look on his face morphed to anger as he took in your words, “Look here, I came here looking for a little help. My wife had some health issues this past year and all the money from our insurance finally ran out. I am your father. I took care of you your entire life. You owe it to me to give me just a little bit of money.” He stepped closer to you and your stomach clenched in fear. “Now take me inside and we can talk about this.” You took in his runny nose and blood shot eyes. He pulled his left hand out of his coat jacket and a small baggy fell out. He reached down to grab it, trying to cover it before you could take in the bad contents. His hand was bare, no ring, no tan lines where one may have been, no indication of a wife or family.

You scoffed, stepped up and pushed him away from you, “No, you don’t get to come here and make up some story about a made up wife and illness trying to make me feel bad for you. All so I'll give you money for more drugs.” He cowered slightly as you pointed to the nearly full parking lot. “Now go. I don’t want to see you here. You have no right and if you show up again, I will call the police.” 

“Y/n-” 

“The police will be here in 2 minutes,” you spin to the voice that came from behind you. Johnny stood there with his phone to his ear as if he was talking to someone. Looking further back, Jaehyun and Lila stood outside the apartment quietly watching the   “I would suggest you leave before they get here. I’m not sure you can convince the dogs that that’s powdered sugar.” He motioned to your fathers clenched fist. Johnny stepped closer as your father didn’t move, “I don’t care if they are on their way, I will drag you out of here myself if you don’t leave now.” 

You could see fear lace your father’s eyes. Johnny had won this battle, your battle. Sirens wailed closer and closer and you watched as your father raced to a little red car. Rusted on the outside and littered on the inside. You could see ripped up headrests and missing seatbelts. He looked back up eyes hard, a sneer lacing his features. 

“Dick,” Johnny muttered as the car pulled away. You scowled at him before reaching for the front. “Y/n,” he gripped your wrist. You twisted the key in the door waiting to hear the click of the lock opening. He gave your wrist a light tug, “Are you okay?” 

Anger burned at your skin and embarrassment filled your head. Johnny had watched your father come begging to you and trying to take advantage of you. He had stepped in. He thought that you needed his help. You wanted to scream at him. You wanted to yell and make a scene right there in the dim light of day. 

Jaehyun and Lila started to walk towards you, but you shook your head at them. It would just be worse if they came down here. Johnny’s eyebrow’s furrowed, “Y/n? Can we talk?” 

Your grip on the door knob tightened as he moved closer to you. You pushed the green door open. No words were spoken as he stayed just outside the door, your arm hanging between both of your bodies. Your voice cracked through gritted teeth as you tugged your hand back to you, “Fine.”

“So,” he stuffed his hands in his pocket. You knew what he was going to say. What he was going to ask, but you didn’t help him by answering the questioning eyes. With a sigh you moved to the small kitchen to pour yourself a small glass of water. Johnny sighed behind you. 

You rolled your eyes and turned back to him, “Water?” The clear glass was taken out of your hand in an instant. Johnny’s throat bobbed as he swallowed down the offered drink. 

“We should talk,” he reached around you to set the glass on the counter again. 

A sigh left your lips as you shuffled through the kitchen. “Okay,” You heard him huff at your short response. All the anger that had been stewing under the surface started to rise. You spin to look at him. His hazelnut eyes glowed as the orange light of the sun shone through the windows. “Why did you call the police?”

“I didn’t,” he gave you a light grin. “The sirens were just a happy coincidence.” He watched you continue to move through the kitchen. You grabbed a towel, sending a glare over your shoulder as you wiped off the counter, “Could you please work with me,” He ran a hand through his long hair. “Don’t give me that look. I don’t know why you are so upset with me, you need to talk to me.”

“You want to talk?” You threw the rough towel in your hand onto the now clean counter. “You want me to tell you why I’m mad. Why I’m so angry? Cause believe me I am angry.” Johnny stood in the living room quietly as he crossed a hand over his chest. “I don’t know why he had to be my father. Why I had to have some deadbeat man that feels like he has a right to know about my life show up at any given time and ask me for money. He lied to me about having a family and their needs. I am mad because I almost believed him. That I, for a moment, was considering helping him. Because while he hurt me, while he hurt my mother, no one deserves to struggle. When I realized that he was being deceitful, that he was lying, I tried to get him to leave and he wouldn’t” 

Johnny reached out for you, concern in his eyes, “Y/n.”

“And you!” You threw a hand out pointing at his chest, “You show up and step into situations that don’t involve you. What’s worse is that it hardly took two words from you before he was running away. Him and that other man at the courts a few weeks ago. I bet you did that to stroke your big ego, right? You think that I need a protector, that I need the knight in shining armor to save me from the fearsome dragon.” You stepped into his space, a finger pressing at his chest. 

His face grew cloudy as he reached up and grabbed your hand, "Now, wait a moment. I've never-"

"No, you wanted me to talk, I'm talking now." Your other hand came and he grabbed it from the space between your bodies. "Since you came back, you act like you hate me but then you act that it is your sole job to what, save me? And don't make me bring up how weird it was that just a couple weeks ago you tried to consider everything that's happened to be water under the bridge." Harsh, short breaths filled the area between you two bodies.

Johnny stepped closer to you. His body pressed into yours as he glared down into your eyes, "I have never said you were weak. I have never looked at you as a damsel in distress or someone who needed to be saved. I just wanted to-" 

"Then why?" You cut in sharply and you watched as Johnny's eyes danced around your face. “There is no reason for you to step in. You weren’t needed. I didn’t need you to step in. I can take care of myself.”  You looked at him, his eyes flickering between both of you, "But what I am most angry about is the fact that I hate you being there seeing me weak and vulnerable. Because it made me realize that I wanted you there.” Your voice was a soft whisper and tears flowed down your cheeks. 

Johnny gripped your hands tighter, pulling you closer to him. He was so beautiful standing there in your apartment sunlight shining through his brown hair, making it seem golden. His eyes held concern and another emotion you didn’t want to try to place. Full lips parted as he considered what to say next. You could tell that there was anger still stirring in his gut, but it was fading just as quickly as your resolve to-

His lips were so soft. A gasp fell from his lips as you pressed further into him. It didn’t take but a moment longer for him to return the kiss. His lips parted yours further and he dropped your hands opting instead to wrap his arms around your waist and shoulder. His arms lifted you further into him as his mouth moved over your with fervour. 

You followed him as he shifted his body spinning to pin you to the wall. His hands trailed down your arms and laced with the hands that caressed his neck and face. His chest rubbed against yours as he lifted your hands holding them above your head. The little voice in the back of your head telling you this was a bad idea was drowned out by the moan that escaped your lips as Johnny thigh settled between your legs. Lips trailed across your cheek and down your jaw as you rolled your hips into him. 

A low groan escaped his lips as he ground his hips harder against yours. A whimper left your lips as his thigh flexed underneath you. He panted as he jolted away from you, eyes wide as he took in your figure. You gripped his hands, holding his body close to you, “Y/n,” he shook his head. “We- I- You aren’t-”

“Johnny,” he watched as you released his hands. You reached for him. His eyes fluttered shut as your hands caressed through his hair and down his to cup his neck. You moved forward kissing lightly across his cheek before placing a kiss just below his ear, “Please. I want this. I want you.” 

“You aren’t in the right headspace right now,” his hands rested on your shoulder. You ignored his statement, trailing kisses down his neck and nipping at the juncture of his neck and shoulders. “I don’t want you to regret this,” he gasped as you started trailing hands down his chest, slowly inching toward the hem of his t-shirt. 

Eyelashes fluttered as you looked up at him. Your fingers skimmed at the skin under his shirt. “I won’t, I promise,” you peered up into his now dark eyes. You swallowed deeply, “But if you don’t want this, I won’t pressure you. I understand if-” and his lips captured yours again. You let out a light squeal as he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. “Bedroom,” you gasped between kisses. “Down the hall, last door on the right.” He took you to bed that night. As you lay there sweat drying on your forehead and Johnny’s soft snoring filling the room, guilt crept into your gut. Johnny turned over his body curling into yours and an arm wrapping around your center. You couldn’t help the tear that slipped down your cheek as you looked back to see the gentle lines and slopes of his face. 

~~

tag list:  @qianinterprises @infnteen @lanadreamie @michplusb @beyond-gethsemane @jaxminskale @nanascupid @sadgirlroo

[amayawolfe]

Itsy Bitsy Spider (Chrollo x Fem.Reader)

A/N: fluff, spiders, angst, some harsh language

Word Count: 5262

Summary: Having been born in Meteor City, the majority of your life has been nothing but hardships. Looking back on it, you often wondered how you even made it to adulthood let alone become the treasured partner and wife of eight years to the head of the Phantom Troupe and mother to yours and Chrollo's son.

In the middle of prepping dinner, Chrollo and some of the troupe return from a successful mission. Your husband fills you in on the details as he and a couple of the members begin to help in the kitchen. The peace is suddenly shattered when your six year old comes running into the kitchen terrified, screaming, and claiming there is a monster in his room!

taglist: @to-move-on-means-to-grow @daisies-write

   The menu music to the DVD you were watching gently woke you from your unintentional nap. You blinked your eyes a few times to bring them into focus and stretched your curled up body along the large, overstuffed couch. This particular spot on the couch was often your place of rest unless your husband was home; in which case the couch was hardly ever used.

   Using the remote you turned off the tv and player then pushed yourself up into a sitting position. You snatched up your phone from it's place on the coffee table and checked the time. It was nearly early evening.

   "Guess I should start thinking about what to make for dinner," you said to yourself as you swipe through your phone to check for messages.

   Down in this underground hideout beneath Meteor City, phone signal alone was nearly impossible to receive. Thankfully, one of the family was able to figure out how to set up a computer that would broadcast Wi-Fi into the hideout from a line that went to the surface where a receiver was carefully hidden. This way, you could at least send and receive messages between the family and yourself.

   Your eyebrows rose and a smile touched your lips when you saw that you had a message from your husband, Chrollo.

Luci: Shopping run was successful, we should be home in the evening.

   You smirked a little at the cryptic message. The "shopping run" Chrollo was talking about was actually a heist during a gem and jewelry show. A heist in which you had helped plan out with your husband and three other family members.

   You glowered down at your phone when you realized the message had been sent a little over an hour ago while you were asleep.

   "I really need to get a louder phone," you muttered to yourself as you began to type a response.

You: I just woke up...

You: I haven't started dinner yet, is there anything you or the others would like?

   Phone still in hand you got to your feet and head in the direction of your son's room. As you walk through the hideout your sock covered foot falls are silent from a lifetime of practice. You pass a collection of pictures hanging along the walls. There are photos of you, Chrollo, your son, as well as the rest of the family doing random things a family would do.

 There were a couple from around the holidays and you and Chrollo are watching your son open gifts. Another was on Chrollo's birthday and two of the members had sandwiched his face between two pieces of vanilla cake with strawberry frosting. The look of shock and horror on Chrollo's face had been perfectly captured. While it was one of your favorite photos, he despised it. Chrollo's favorite picture on the wall was of you and him stretched out on the day bed in the library reading a book together while his head was resting on your nearly full term pregnant belly. You had to admit, it was a very cute picture.

   The home was enormous, consisting of s/n's room and his own bathroom, yours and Chrollo's large master bedroom with a large bathroom, a gourmet kitchen, library, study, massive living room, dining hall, training area along with a gym and a pool, a giant vault for looted treasures, multiple guests rooms with their own bathrooms, there was even a "war room" where missions and strategies were discussed.

   All the rooms in the place were lavishly decorated and furnished for maximal comfort. Any electronics and appliances were always top of line. Your husband always insisted on the best of the best for you and the family.

   Upon reaching your son's open door way you peeked in on him and found him laying on his belly on the floor reading a book aloud softly. He had his collection of stuffed animals surrounding him as though they were an audience listening to the story he was telling. A majority of them were a variety of teddy bears of all shapes, colors, and sizes. Ever since he saw a picture of a tiny teddy bear defending a sleeping child from a large monster he had taken a great liking to them.

   S/n's favorite teddy bear was one that Chrollo had asked Machi to make for him during a difficult time for s/n where he was greatly missing his father whenever he went on missions. It was of average size for a teddy bear and had medium brown fur. The button eyes were the same shade of grey blue as Chrollo's and it even had a dark long coat with white fur lining. But how Machi really outdid herself were the little details of a tiny book with a felt cover sewn to the teddy bears paw, the same mark on it's forehead as Chrollo's, and giving the bear little blue green glass bead earrings.

   Your son had been so happy to the point of joyous tears when his father gave him the bear made especially for him. He decided right there and then to name the bear "Sir Brollo." Upon s/n announcing this, you had to bite your tongue so hard it bled to keep yourself from laughing at the bright red look that came over your husband's face.    Sir Brollo had a front row seat sitting right beside s/n as he read. That bear rarely ever left your son's side.

   You rest your head against the door frame as you leaned against it and listened to your son read to his "friends." It saddened you knowing your son had no one to play with except for you and the family when ever they were home. But being the son of the head of the heavily feared and all powerful Phantom Troupe, precautions had to be taken.    There had been a few dangerously close calls of s/n being taken away to be used as revenge or leverage against the Phantom Troupe. Close calls that resulted in a sense of dread and anxiety that never fully went away. Even after Chrollo had gathered the nen techniques needed to build you, your son, and the family this safe place, the possible threat of invasion always weighed heavy in the back of your mind. And poor s/n was never allowed out of the hide out unless he had you or Chrollo and at least three other members of the family with him.

   These constant negative feelings that lingered in the air had taken a toll on your son causing him to become a very nervous and skittish child with a fear of nearly everything. You and the others hoped that, over time, he would be able to shake these fears and stand up to them.

   When your son finished the chapter he was on you lifted your head and gently called his name.    "s/n"

   The child jumped and looked up at you with wide blue grey eyes. His father's eyes. You could feel the sadness in your own eyes form at his frightened expression.

   "I'm sorry kiddo," you said softly and entered his room to kneel down close to him. "I didn't mean to startle you, I just wanted to let you know that your father and some of the family will be home soon."

   "Oh, okay, thank you mommy," s/n replied softly.

   "Is there something special you want for dinner tonight?" you asked.

   "Hmmm, not really. Just, no fish, please," your son wrinkled his nose, "I really don't like fish."

   You couldn't help but laugh aloud at his response. Stroking his soft hair you leaned forward, and kissed him on the forehead.

   "I know, baby, I know. I promise, no fish."

   s/n smiled at your  words and he began to kick his feet in the air just above him.    "Who else will be home?"    "I think your uncles Fei, Phinks, and Shal will be coming in with your dad."

   Right then your phone pinged and vibrated alerting you to a message response. Glancing down at it you saw Chrollo had responded to your previous question.

   "Oh," you said, "speak of the devil."

Luci: I have been asked to put in a request for your famous stew.

   You looked down at s/n, "How does stew sound for dinner?"

   His eyes grew wide and he smiled happily.

   "Yeah!" he cheered as he rolled to one side and pumped a tiny fist into the air. You couldn't help but laugh again and ruffled your son's hair.

   "Alright my silly boy, would you like to help me in the kitchen?"

   "No, I want to keep reading to Sir Brollo and the others," he answered honestly. "I want to finish a few more chapters before time to eat."

   "Okay, I'll come get you when it's time to eat then." You rose to your feet and started to leave the room. At the door way you turned and added, "I love you, sweetie."

   "I love you too, mommy," s/n beamed then returned to his book.

   As you made your way to the kitchen you messaged your husband a reply.

You: I can do that, I'll go ahead and get started. See you soon?

Luci: See you soon, princess.

   You felt the warmth of a blush touch your cheeks. A reaction that always occurred when Chrollo called you by his favorite pet name for you.

   When you entered the massive kitchen you set some upbeat classical music to play from your phone. You loved listening to music while you cooked and baked. You then brought down a large stock pot as well as collected a peeler, knife, mixing bowl, and cutting bored. From the fridge you set out a large chunk of beef, bacon, carrots, and celery. The pantry had the potatoes, flour, beef stock, onions, a bottle of red wine and garlic you needed.

   You really felt like you were getting into the grove as you gave your hands a good scrub. You diced up a few slices of bacon and tossed them into the stock put and turned the stove flame on to a medium high heat. While the bacon started to cook and release the greasy fat you were going to brown the beef cubes in, you cut the beef chunk into bite size pieces with impressive speed and accuracy. Chrollo wasn't the only one good with a knife.

   Once the meat was all cubed you tossed it into the mixing bowl along with some olive oil. Tossing the meat and oil in the bowl until the meat was evenly coated you then added flour, garlic powder, onion powder, season salt, and pepper; stirring it until it the meat was all evenly coated.

   Checking on the bacon and giving it a stir, you decided to let the bacon bits crisp a bit more and started working on dicing up a large yellow onion. Humming along with a playful piece of classical music known as "Thunder and Lightning polka" by Johann Strauss II, you really felt like you had a good rhythm going and was very much engrossed in your work.

   So much so you didn't even notice someone quietly enter the kitchen and walk up behind you. You didn't notice them watching while you worked, waiting for a pause in your actions before placing their hands on your waist.

   You let out a small yelp of surprise as you knocked the persons hands aside and spun around quickly, bringing the sharp edge of the kitchen knife up to your would be assailant's throat. You had expected to see the face of a dangerous stranger. But instead, you where greeted by the warm, familiar face of your husband. There was a small playful smile on his lips and an extra little gleam in his eyes. Chrollo normally wasn't one to sneak up on you like he just did, but he did tend to become mischievously playful after a successful mission. You figured it was most likely from the adrenaline high.

   "Damnit, Chrollo," you hissed as you removed the knife from his neck and leaned back against the counter, "You know better than that. What if I had cut your neck wide open?"    "Mmm, but you didn't," he replied softly.

   You sighed and rolled your eyes, Chrollo was never one to dwell on the "what ifs" of life.

   "I got you a little something, my dear," he stated as he reached into the pocket of his favorite long coat. Your husband was always bringing you little gifts when ever he went on a mission without you.

   From his pocket he with drew a small, dark navy blue velvet box and held it before you. You quickly washed and dried your hands so as to not to get the box all dirty, carefully took the box from his hand and let out a small gasp upon opening it.

   Inside the dainty box was a small rose charm necklace. The piece was masterfully crafted as the delicate petals of the rose were made from chips of rubies while the petals were made of dark green chrome tourmaline chips. Both gems were set in fine gold which also made up the delicate stem of the rose. The chain was made of fine delicate links also in gold.

    "Oh Chrollo," you breathed in awe, "it's absolutely gorgeous."

   Your husband smiled at your reaction, pleased to see you so happy with the piece he had picked out for you. He held up his hand to take back the box.

   "May I?"

   Without a need for question you handed the box back to him. You watched him take the necklace out of the box and he returned the box back to his pocket. You turned around as he held up the necklace and you moved your hair at the way so Chrollo could have unobstructed access to your neck. He stepped closer as undid the delicate little clasp and carefully hung the necklace around your neck.

   After he redid the clasp behind your neck he slid his hands to your shoulders and placed a soft, warm kiss on your neck. Chrollo's breath tickled the fine hairs on the delicate skin causing goosebumps to erupt down your arms.

   "A piece fit for a princess," he whispered against your ear in a low, sultry voice.

   His hands moved down your sides to your waist and pulled you closer to him. Your back flush against his chest, you tilted your head to one side allowing him easy access as his he ran a trail of soft kisses from just below where you neck and shoulder connect to your ear. Chrollo's arms came around your waist and he hugged you tightly as he nuzzled his nose against your ear and breathed against the sensitive flesh. You braced your hands against the counter as your knees started to feel weak.

   Mischievous and playful were not the only moods that overcame Chrollo after a successful job. You looked forward to the private activities that were most likely to take place between you and your husband behind the closed bedroom door later that night.

   "Hey boss, we finished placing all the merchandise into the vault," called a familiar voice, ending the tender moment between you and your husband. As romantic as he could be, Chrollo was never really comfortable showing physical affection in front of the others. Something that both amused and annoyed you the entire eight plus years the two of you had been together.    Your husband gave you one last chaste kiss just below the earlobe before turning to Shalnark walking through the kitchen doorway.

   "Thank you, Shalnark. And what are the others up to?"

   "Oh, they're arguing over what to watch until dinner is done," Shal laughed.

   "Why am I not surprised," you said over your shoulder as you started to scoop the crispy bacon bits out of the stock pot with a slotted spoon. "Say, since you two are here why don't you help me out with peeling and cutting the vegetables? The sooner everything gets into the pot the sooner it'll be done and we can eat."

   "Sure thing!" Shal beamed, causing you to smile. He always seemed so happy to you and reminded you of a little ball of sunshine.

   "I'll go put my coat up and then I'll come back and help," Chrollo replied and strode from the kitchen. Shalnark came over and washed his hands.

   "If you don't mind, could you go ahead and peel and chop up the carrots first?" you asked as you started to add the coated beef cubes to the bacon fat.

   "Yea, I can do that," Shal chirped. He dried his hands and set to work peeling the carrots. "How's everything been here the last few weeks?"

   "Dull and quiet," you said with a sigh as you turned the meat cubes, "it's pretty much the same routine when everyone else is away. Not that I am complaining, really."    "I would hope not," Chrollo entered back into the kitchen without his coat. He was wearing a dark sleeveless shirt with a high collar and some white bands creating a pattern down the front, a dark pair of jeans and white socks. The shirt showed off his toned arms, chest, and shoulders and it enticed you to take a nice, long looks at your beloved.

   "'Dull and quiet' means 'safe' for my two greatest treasures." Chrollo took his turn at washing his hands before asking, "Now, what shall you have me do, dearest?"

   Deciding against speaking aloud the first thing that came to your mind and causing your husband to blush in front of a family member, you set him to work on peeling and cutting potatoes.

   You had removed the meat from the stock pot and added some red whine to deglaze the bottom of the pot when Feitan came in mumbling.

   "Did you lose the coin toss, Feitan?" Shal asked while he was chopping the carrots.

   "Yes," he sighed, then added bitterly" and I would much rather help here than watch another sports game."

   Chrollo smirked and Shalnark chuckled while you bit back a laugh. The three of you knew that Feitan would have greatly prefered watch some documentaries on famous criminals; yet somehow Phinks normally won the coin toss on what they would watch when it came to what those two would watch.

   "Well, Fei, in that case you can get the dinner roll dough out of the fridge, space them out in a greased baking then cover them with a towel so they can start rising."

   You felt the look Feitan shot at you more so than saw it. He had obviously been kidding about wanting to help out on the kitchen. Or, at the very least, he was putting on a show pretending that he actually didn't want to help out when in truth he did.

   When you didn't look back over your shoulder at him after a bit he sighed and went to go do as you had asked. You had made sure to give Feitan an easy enough task where he didn't have to ask someone to help get something down or where he would have to get a chair. You knew he could sometimes be a sensitive and prideful when it came to matters of his height.

   "So tell me, love, how did the mis-" your question to your husband was suddenly interrupted by the terrified screams of your son coming from his bedroom.

   "MONSTER!! MOMMY THERE'S A MONSTER!!!"

   Your heart nearly stopped as you dropped what you were doing and started to turn to run out of the kitchen along with Chrollo and the other two.

   Chrollo was the first to the door but came to an abrupt stop as s/n came around the corner and ran into his father. Your husband grabbed hold of him to keep him from falling backwards then maneuvered your son away from the door towards you so Feitan and Shalnark could pass to go investigate s/n's room.

   Keeping himself between the doorway and you and your son, Chrollo knelt down beside s/n who was now clinging to you and shaking with tears forming in his eyes. He placed a gentle hand on his son's upper back while you stroked his head.

   "Tell me what happened, son," he calmly ordered.

   "I was r-reading my book and a big monster c-came out of the corner of m-my room." s/n stammered.

   "What kind of monster, sweetie?" you asked.

   "We couldn't find anything, boss," Shalnark reported as he and Feitan returned.

   "It looked like a b-big spider!" s/n added.

   Chrollo's eyebrows started to creep up his forehead, "Spider?"

   Your son nodded.

   "PHINKS!" you nearly roared. Phinks had been known to play pranks on s/n in the past. Pranks that didn't go as he had planned and usually scared the poor kid senseless. The Troupe member claimed he was just trying to help s/n get over his fears, you usually ended up beating the crap out of him regardless.

   "It wasn't me!" came Phinks's response as he quickly joined Shalnark and Feitan. "I swear!"

   He shied away and stood behind the other two when you locked a deadly glare onto him.

   "No, mommy, it wasn't Uncle Phinks," s/n sniffled, "I was reading in my book and it got to a part with monster spiders then a huge spider appeared in my room!"

   There was a silent pause before nearly all the adults let out a collective sigh and their guards dropped.

   "See, I told you it wasn't me," Phinks muttered as he went back to watch the game.

   "Another false alarm," Feitan sighed while walking back into the kitchen.    "That's some imagination," Shalnark stated and gave s/n a pat head, "you must have thought the spider was one of those creature right out of your book, huh?"

   S/n nodded his head. His face was starting to turn red as he began to realize he had most likely been afraid of nothing once again.

   "But," he whispered sadly, "there really was a big spider in my room. And, I'm afraid it's going to hurt Sir Brollo."

   "Sir Brollo will be fine, love," you assured gently. "Give me a minute and daddy and I will come help look for the spider, okay?"

   s/n nodded and released his grip from you to stand a little closer to his father who rested a hand atop his sons head in means of comfort.

   You went to the stove, reduced it to medium low heat, added in the beef stock and spices then turned to Feitan and Shalnark.

   "Could you two please finish cutting up the vegetables and add them to the pot? Once that's done add in the meat last, give it a good stir then put the lid on. It should be good on it's own after that."

   "Can do, boss lady," Shalnark beamed.

   You thank them both and join your son and husband and the three of you head towards s/n's room with Chrollo in the lead. Upon entering the room everything seemed normal. S/n held onto you at the doorway and Chrollo walked a few steps further in while looking around carefully.  As he rounded the end of s/n's bed, looking down at a part of the floor you and s/n couldn't see, Chrollo actually jumped a little and a look of surprise appeared on his face.

   "Well, I was not expecting that." He blinked a couple times then began to look around the room for something.

   "What is it?" you asked. Chrollo smiled a little as he took a large clear plastic container and dumped out the contents to one side. He then went back over to the part of the floor you could not see, turned the container sideways and slowly knelt down.

   "An understandably good reason for our son to be scared," he replied softly, "at least at first."

   All you could see your husband do was make some slow, careful arm movements. He was speaking softly, to softly for you to here. You wanted to move forward to see what he was messing with but your son didn't want you to leave nor did he want to go farther into the room.

   You didn't have to wait long though, as Chrollo began to stand you could now see what he had corralled into the plastic container. It was indeed a spider, but not just any spider, this sider was enormous. With it's legs fanned out it was easily larger than your husbands face.

   "It's a snowy tarantula," Chrollo explained as he slowly walked over to the two of you, "it's sort of an ironic name considering it usually lives in hot, arid climates like the desserts around Meteor City."

   Once he was within a couple meters of you and s/n he knelt down and gently set the container on the floor. The creature inside barely moved as it seemed to turn and look up at Chrollo.

   "It's called a 'snowy' tarantula due to the white hairs all over it's body. The hairs actually shimmer and reflect the light just like fresh fallen snow. An evolutionary trait that developed to help reflect the dessert heat away from it's body and keep it cooler. A magnificent specimen to behold when the light hits it just right. Come see, s/n. She's actually quite docile."

   S/n looked up at you and you gave him a warm smile and a nod. He slowly let go of you and took one slow, cautious step after another towards his father and the spider that had frightened him so. You carefully followed behind your son wanting to get a look at the tarantula as well.

   As the two of you came closer, the tarantula daintily turned and looked up at you. You gasped slightly at the beautiful deep blue eyes that now stared up at you.

   "Now watch," your husband instructed and he began to carefully rotate the container in a circular side to side motion causing the light to dance across the hairs of the tarantula.

   "Whhoooaaaa." Your son's eyes grew wide in awe as a rainbow of prismed light moved over the hairs of the tarantula, giving her the effect of a living gem. "She's so pretty. I've never seen anything like it, daddy."

   Chrollo stopped the rotation of the container and carefully set it on the floor. He then reached over, placed his hand on the back of his son's head and gently pulled s/n's head towards his own as he too began to lean forward. The two touched foreheads over the tarantula and looked into each others eyes.

   "There is no shame in having fear, s/n, but do not let that fear keep you from learning and understanding the unknown. What once was scary and ugly could turn out to be something wonderful and beautiful once you find the courage to face it. Do you understand?"

   Your son smiled and nodded slightly, "Yes, daddy, I understand. I'll try harder to be brave, just like you, mommy, and the rest of the family."

   Your husband returned the smiled and closed his eyes, "Very good, my son."

   S/n closed his eyes as well and the two shared an unspoken bonding moment over the snowy tarantula who just looked up at them. You smiled down at the two you held most dear and felt your heart swell with love and emotion.  

   Your son was the first to break the silence.

   "Do you think we could keep her?" he asked as he gently pulled away from his father. "She could be our mascot!"

   "Ah-ha, I don't think so, sweetie," you said firmly. "I'm sure she would be a lot happier on the surface where she has room to find food and make a home."    "Awwww," s/o whined in disappointment, "when is she going back then?"

   "Probably the sooner the better." Chrollo added, backing you up before s/n had a chance to ask him as well.

   "Can I show her to the others before she goes back outside?"

   Chrollo chuckled, "I don't see why not. Just be sure to carry her gently and don't shake her. You don't want to hurt her before we let her back outside."

   "Okay!" s/n said with excitement. He carefully picked up the plastic container and walked with precise hurried steps out of the room, eager to show his uncles that he hadn't been afraid of just nothing.

   As soon as s/n was out of ear shot you turned to your husband who was now standing beside you.

   "I'm not going to lie, had that thing snuck up on me while I was reading I probably would have screamed, too," you admitted with light laughter sounding in your words. Chrollo smiled and wrapped his arms around your waist bringing the two of you close.

   "How did something like that even get in here? The airducts, maybe?"

   "It's possible," Chrollo agreed, "I'll ask Shalnark to run a check on the ventilation system just in case."

   You stood on your tip toes and kissed his nose, "I'd appreciate that. Also, you might want to ask Shal and Fei how the hell they missed such a big spider when they came in here to check for intruders."  

   "When s/n jumped up and ran out of here screaming it probably startled her and she hid among all the stuffed toys," your husband made a gesture with his head to your son's mass collection. You looked down and realized that, even though the spider had been huge, she could have easily hid between some of the bigger plushies blocking her from view.

   "Good point," you chuckled, "Okay, one more question, 'Who's taking the spider top side?'"

   "Once s/n is done showing the others I'll take them all top side to let her go," your husband volunteered, "we won't go far just to release her."

   "He's getting better at recovering from scares like this," you observed. "But still... I worry about him..."

   "Of course you worry about him," Chrollo said softly, bringing his head down to now touch his marked forehead to yours, "you're his mother. I suspect you will worry for him one way or another for the rest of your life."

   "And what about you? Don't you worry about our son?" you asked in the same softness Chrollo was expressing.

   "Of course I do, y/n, he's my son. But, seeing how the two of us are, and what we survived to get here, I feel s/n is going to -"    "AAAHHHH!!! WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?" Phinks screamed, "WAS THAT IN YOUR ROOM!?!?! NO!! I DO NOT WANT A CLOSER LOOK!"

   Chrollo threw back his head and let out a genuine laugh. A laugh that made you smile and laugh along with him.

   "Hey! I can hear you two! Shut the hell up!" Phinks yelled, his voice cracking in embarrassment.

   His words made the two of you laugh even harder for several minutes.

   By the time you two had settled down and caught your breath there were tears in your eyes from laughing so hard. Chrollo looked down at you with a smile still on his face and gave you a long, warm, soft kiss right on the lips. It gave the moment an almost surreal feel to it.

   He was the first to break away from the kiss. Your husband chuckled as he swept some hair behind you ear with his finger tips.    "As I was saying, I think our son is going to be just fine."

[perlukafarinn]

Sweeter Than Roses

happy holidays @galaxystiel​ from your @destielsecretsanta2020​ secret santa! sorry this is late but since i didn’t know i would have to pinch hit until a couple of days after posting date, this was the quickest turn-around i could manage. i hope you like it!

Dean loved the holiday season. Of course he did, he made about a quarter of his annual income in December. People liked to eat baked goods on Christmas, go figure.

But he hated the holiday season, too. Every single day was busy, every hour was rush hour. Sometimes he didn’t get the last orders done until an hour after closing. He had seasonal hires, of course, but in the three years since he opened Rolling Scones, he’d always ended up underestimated how much extra help he needed.

Thankfully, things quieted as soon as Christmas was over. The last week of the year, while still busy, was a calm oasis compared to what came before. This meant that for the first time all month, Dean wasn’t busy with twelve other customers when Cas dropped by.

Cas had been coming to Rolling Scones twice a week, like clockwork, ever since he took over the flower shop next door a few months ago. Dean had been sad to see Mildred, the previous owner, go but he’d been prepared to welcome his new neighbor. He’d even set aside a complimentary piece of pie for him, because who didn’t like pie?

The first time Cas had come by, Dean had been so dazed that he almost forgot not to charge him for the pie. Dean hadn’t even thought he had a type when it came to men but here Cas had been to prove him wrong, handsome and charming and weird in the exact right way to come across as endearing rather than awkward. 

He always came about half an hour before the lunch rush, ordering a cup of coffee and a new type of pastry every time. Then he hung around while he ate, talking with Dean if he wasn’t with another customer. 

And yeah, maybe Dean treasured those quiet moments with Cas, learning about flowers and their symbolic meaning and explaining to him how to make the perfectly flaky pie crust. Maybe he looked forward to the days Cas would come by the rest of the week. Maybe he’d added a few items to his menu since Cas started frequenting, just to give him the incentive to keep coming. 

It was called being a good business owner. 

This past month, Cas had come by for his coffee and pastry and taken them to go. He’d been busy, too, so stopping wouldn’t have been an option even if the bakery hadn’t been crowded and Dean hadn’t been on the phone with some asshole who absolutely needed sixty-four macarons in eight different flavors for a holiday party that same evening. 

Today, though, was just a slightly-busier-than-average Monday. For both of them, judging by the foot traffic outside that Dean could see from his spot behind the counter. 

Cas even arrived a little bit earlier than usual, carrying a huge bouquet of red roses.

Dean watched him, amused as Cas navigated his way past the chairs and tables, head just barely poking up past the flowers in his arms.

“What’s this?” he asked as Cas finally arrived at the counter. 

Cas placed the flowers down, giving Dean an abashed smile. “Cancelled order. A young man was intending to propose on Christmas Day but apparently, his girlfriend had different plans.”

“Yikes, poor guy.”

“Yes,” Cas said. “But I felt the bouquet should be enjoyed by someone, so I thought of you.”

Dean grinned. “You’re not planning on proposing, are you? ‘Cause I like you but I don’t think we’re there just yet.”

“For the bakery,” Cas clarified, cheeks growing pink. “I - uh, I thought they might look nice in your window.”

“Relax, I’m kidding.” Dean picked up the bouquet. It was heavier than it looked and up close, the smell of them was almost overwhelming in its sweetness. “Thanks, Cas. I don’t gotta feed them, right?”

“Only water.” 

Dean looked around for some free space for the flowers then, failing to find one, put them back down on the counter. “So, what’ll it be today?”

Cas placed his order - a cup of coffee and a festive peppermint eclair Dean only offered around the holidays - and stood at the counter as he ate, talking with Dean in between customers. As soon as he left, Krissy walked up to Dean and smacked his shoulder.

"He gave you flowers?” 

Dean rubbed the spot she hit - kid was getting stronger by the day. Maybe he should stop making her knead the bread. “Yeah?”

“And you didn’t take the hint and ask him out?” she asked.

“They weren’t for me, they were for the shop. It wasn’t a hint.”

Krissy crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows in disbelief.

“Was it?” Dean asked faintly.

“I know they say your mind starts to go as you grow older but, wow.”

“I’m not that old,” Dean protested. “You’re… young.”

“Nice one, boss.”

“Shut up.” Dean scratched the back of his neck, observing the roses still sitting on the counter. “You’re not messing with me? You really think that was a hint?”

“He gave you red roses. Dude couldn’t have been more obvious if he walked up to you and shoved his tongue down your throat.”

Dean shoved at her. Krissy danced out of reach, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Go man the register," he told her. "You've got customers waiting."

She rolled her eyes but did as told. Dean picked up the bouquet, getting it out of her way, and went to the back to find something to use as a vase. As he looked, he thought about what Krissy had said.

Had Cas meant that gift to be romantic? There were times when they talked that Dean thought his feelings might not be unrequited but then, he usually dismissed it as wishful thinking. Cas had never asked him out. He usually responded to Dean's more overt flirting with a confused but polite smile. That had to mean he wasn't interested and was just too nice to say so, right?

But then again, red roses. Those were objectively the most romantic flower, even Dean knew that. Sure, Cas had said they were for the bakery, but he'd also said I thought of you. He could've thrown them out or donated them or done whatever he did with flowers he couldn't sell. But no, he'd brought them to Dean, because he'd thought of him.

And Dean had gone and screwed it up by making a bad joke. 

He needed to make it up to him. Just asking him out wouldn’t be enough and it wasn’t like he could give Cas flowers back. But, Dean considered, an idea forming in his mind, he could give him something else.

 It took a couple of tries. Dean’s first attempt ended with a soggy middle. His second in burnt edges on the carefully crafted apple/rose petals. His third was perfect, the apples sliced not too thick and not too thin, curling up beautifully in the oven as they dried while still retaining their vibrant red color.

He stared down at his creation, cooling on the counter in his bakery’s kitchen. It was an apple pie and a rose bouquet rolled into one, the apple slices serving as petals arranged on top, sweet and tart just the way Cas liked best. 

Cas wasn’t due for another visit until tomorrow but Dean was too nervous to wait. Both Krissy and Kevin were working today and the lunch rush wouldn’t start just yet, he had the time to drop by next door and deliver his gift. And possibly ask Cas out, put his heart on the line for what might just be a simple misunderstanding of intentions.

No big. A couple of minutes, in and out.

He put the pie on a plate, covering it with cloth for the short trip over to Cas' shop. Krissy dryly wished him good luck on his way out, to which he responded with a raised middle finger.

("Good luck? He's just delivering pie."

"Oh, Kevin.")

Dean had only been inside the flower shop a couple of times since Cas took over. A lot had changed since Mildred left, most noticeable of all a window in the ceiling that let in the pale morning light, shining directly down on the counter where Cas was working alongside a dark-haired woman. He smiled as he spotted Dean at the door, turning to the woman to say something before leaving her alone with the customers and making his way over.

"Hello, Dean." God, had he always looked this beautiful? "What brings you here?"

Dean opened his mouth, then realized that he had no idea what he was going to say. Wordlessly, he shoved the pie at Cas' chest. Cas looked confused but accepted, pulling the cloth away.

"Oh, this is lovely!" Cas looked back up at Dean. "You made this for me?"

Dean shrugged, his ears growing warm. "Just- since you brought me those roses yesterday. Thought I'd bring you something nice in return."

"Thank you, Dean, but there was no need. It wasn't any trouble for me, I had the roses by chance and no one else to give them to."

Dean's stomach sank. So it hadn't been romantic after all. Krissy had been way off and Dean had been desperate enough to believe her.

“It’s, uh, no big.” Dean cleared his throat. He needed to get out of here, quick. “I was gonna test out this technique anyway, so I figured I might as well try it on someone. Anyway, I gotta go back. Busy time, you know how it is.”

Cas nodded. “Thank you again for the pie.”

“No problem.”

 Krissy had the good sense not to say anything when Dean returned less than two minutes after he left. She must have explained to Kevin what was going on because for the rest of the day, the two of them were model employees, quiet and helpful - in other words, nothing like their usual selves.

Dean sent them home early, figuring he’d use the time it would take him to close up by himself to stew in his disappointment and get it out of his system before he got home. He hadn’t lost anything, after all. He and Cas hadn’t broken up. It was just a stupid crush, a passing infatuation, and Cas would still be his friend once he got over it.

He’d be fine.

He’d almost managed to convince himself he believed that whole crock of shit when someone knocked on the door. Dean looked up, ready to tell them off when the bakery was so clearly closed, but stopped short when he saw Cas standing outside, giving him a small wave.

Dean was tempted to pretend he hadn't seen him, or to wave him off under the pretense of needing to close up quickly. 

He'd need to talk to Cas again sooner or later, though. He closed the register, walking up to the door and swinging it open. A cool breeze greeted him. Dean now noticed snowflakes lazily drifting from the sky, covering the ground in soft, powdery snow.

Dean stood aside but Cas remained in the doorway, looking nervous.

"I think I may have misunderstood you earlier," he said. "After you left, Meg told me that the pie was- that it might be a romantic gesture?"

Dean stared at him, his face on fire. Great, so Cas had been completely clueless and this Meg chick had to go and rat him out? And now he was here to, what, make sure Dean knew nothing was going to happen?

"Was it?" Cas prompted after a long silence.

Dean looked away. "Does it matter? Look, I promise I'm not gonna make things awkward if that's what you're worried about. Nothing has to change, I'll get over-"

"There was no proposal," Cas blurted. "I just wanted to give you flowers."

Dean blinked. "You-?"

"I intended to be honest with you but when the moment came, I lost my nerve." Cas smiled sheepishly. "So I made up a story about a botched proposal. The truth is I like you and I've wanted to ask you out for a while."

Dean laughed. He couldn't help it, this situation was beyond ridiculous. 

"I wasn't testing out any new techniques," he admitted. "I just wanted to give you pie."

Cas' smile widened and if he'd been beautiful before it was nothing compared to now, beaming and pink-cheeked, eyes sparkling in the artificial glow of the streetlights. Dean wanted to kiss him so bad and for once, he had no excuse to hold back.

Cas must have been thinking the same thing because they met in the middle, noses bumping in their excitement, before Cas cupped Dean’s cheek and tilted his head, bringing their lips together. It was a sweet kiss and Dean smiled as he could taste the apples and cinnamon on Cas’ lips. 

Dean’s heart was pounding as they parted, stomach fluttering with what felt suspiciously like butterflies. 

“I know offering pastries to a baker might be as useless as offering flowers to a florist,” Cas said, “but I have some pie left over if you’d-”

Dean cut him off with a quick kiss. “Baker or no, I never turn down pie.”

But even with the promise of pie Dean was in no hurry to move and neither, it seemed, was Cas, because they lingered in the doorway, trading kisses until their noses had gone cold and Cas’ dark hair was dusted with melting snowflakes. 

[drwcn]

The Shadow Beneath the Light: Complete 

Concept: Sect Master Wen Qing & her harem of Jiang heirs demonic cultivators. CQL Verse. 

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Epilogue]

--

A few years later...

“A-Kuo, one last fish and we’ll go, okay? Gan’die says we’ll have to be back before dinner; if we’re  late again, yi’fu is going to make us copy Lan Precepts whilst doing handstands -”

“Yes! Gotcha, you son of a -”

“A-Kuo.” 

Lan Jingyi laughed, reeling in the line to inspect his largest catch yet. The koi fish flopped and writhed as he pulled it out of the water, a triumphant grin on his seven year old face. 

“A-Yuan, look!” He turned to his adoptive brother, who sat on the shore with sleeves and pant-legs rolled up as he diligently cleaned the contents of the small basket filled with their afternoon’s effort. “And for the upmteenth time, call me Jingyi. I have a courtesy name now - you now - like a real cultivator.” 

Jingyi said ‘real cultivator’ like he meant ‘big boy’.   

“Right. Real cultivator.” Wen Yuan smiled. “Excellent, can the real cultivator among us bring over his large catch, so I can clean it? We can turn that one into a stew tonight, with chili peppers and pickled veggies - your favourite.” 

Spring was Wen Yuan’s favourite’s time of the year. Every spring since his adoptive fathers were officially married, they would leave behind their sects and their duties to bring him and his brother to live at their small cottage, situated in the serene forest east of Mt. Dafan.  

His family was the happiest, most relaxed when they were at the cottage. Their days were simple, filled with a quiet kind of a bliss and a soft, unassuming love. They dressed like all mountain households did, sturdy clothes of hemp and cotton dyed dark blues and browns; drank water from the well gan’die dug in the yard; and ate the food yi’fu managed to prepare. They rose with the sun, not at the strict hour of five (much to A-Kuo’s joy), and rested when their fathers said so. (Note: gan’die and yi’fu are both terms used for godfather or adoptive father) 

Boys your age need to grow, so you must get plenty of sleep. 

Wen Yuan knew they were getting spoiled as it were, and soon maybe their careless days would be coming to an end. He overheard yi’fu speaking with gan’die about sending him and A-Kuo to Cloud Recesses to study there permanently instead of just a few short summer months each year. Already, yi’fu had picked out a courtesy name for A-Kuo - Jingyi - which gan’die liked very much, but they had yet to come to an agreement for himself. 

Wen Yuan wondered what name he was to be given. He took the new catch from Jingyi, cut and cleaned it the way shushu taught him last autumn when they visited Lotus Pier for the first time. The rebuilding efforts had begun, just as Wen-gugu promised. Gan’die said soon they may even be able to get their own rooms installed. Wen-gugu had written several weeks ago stating she planned to move Nevenight’s court every autumn and winter to the Wen sect’s new secondary palace in Yiling, so that Jiang Yanli and Jiang Wanyin may be close to Lotus Pier, their ancestral home. 

Gan’die had gotten rather emotional at that, and after he read Wen Qing’s letter, he had cuddled against yi’fu for a good hour decidedly not crying. 

“Wen Qing wants their next heir to be born in Yunmeng. It’s what she promised shijie and Jiang Cheng.” Gan’die had explained to yi’fu. Wen Yuan figured that meant he was getting another cousin soon. 

Little Wen Lian, the absolute pearl in her parents eyes - all three of them - was already turning two. 

“There, finished.” He plopped the fish into the basket and wiped his hands on a cloth. “Ready to go?” 

“Yep,” Jingyi stuffed his feet back into his shoes, smoothed down his robes and cringed. “I stink.” 

“Me too. We need to bath tonight or we’ll end up going to Jinlintai smelling like fish.” Wen Yuan looped his arm through the vine straps of the basket and hauled it onto his small back. For an eight year old, he was rather strong. 

“I don’t want to go to Jinlintai. It’s a wedding, so we’ll have to get all dressed up. I hope gan’die won’t make me wear the robes Jiang-shushu sent. They’re so...extra.” 

Wen Yuan laughed at Jingyi’s obvious ire. “No, yi’fu promised you can just wear your Lan robes. Only gan’die has to wear shushu’s designs. It’s a set for three anyway. Something about being the ‘better-dressed’ 3-zun...apparently there’s both pride and money on the line.” 

Jiang Cheng always insisted the Three Demonic Grandmasters could not allow the Venerated Triad to outdo them in the wardrobe department. Everyone knew Wen Qing indulged him, plying him with yards and yards of silk and satin and damask, but maybe she should stop, because it was getting ridiculous. 

A lot has happened in the last couple of years, many changes Wen Yuan and Lan Kuo didn’t see coming. One day Wen Yuan was a simple village boy up on the mountains of Dafan and the next he was being whisked away to Nevernight and placed in a position of importance and respect. He had lost his family during the war, and Wen Qing, his aunt of distant relations, was his guardian. She loved him and cared for him, but she had others to love as well. Ultimately it was not Wen Qing with whom A-Yuan had formed an attachment. When Wei Wuxian remarried, Qishan Wen and Gusu Lan formed an alliance and a child from each clan was adopted by Yiling Laozu and Hanguang-jun. Wen Yuan was the obvious choice, but Jingyi was the unexpected. 

A-Yuan looked to the other boy and smiled. He couldn’t have asked for a better brother. 

The sun was just starting to set by the time the two of them trekked their way back to their home - a little provincial cottage tucked away in the woods. Yi’fu and gan’die had build it just for the four of them. It was a quaint little place, surrounded by a bamboo fence with a stone well in the front, a little vegetable garden in the back and enough clearing space for them to practice their forms each morning. Under the arching willow tree by the south end, yi’fu had strung up a simple wood-plank swing, something that never failed to bring a smile to gan’die’s face. 

Wen Yuan and Lan Jingyi loved this cottage. As much as Cloud Recesses was ethereal, and as much as Nevernight was magnificent, it could not measure up to this home in the woods that was theirs. 

Wei Wuxian was collecting dried laundry from the clothing line and folding them into the woven basket when he saw them. Straightening up, he huffed and called out over his shoulder, “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, they’re back! No need to go look for them.”  

By the external hearth, Lan Wangji was chopping firewood into smaller pieces. “Good.” 

“Oi, you rascals, you were gone for so long we were starting to worry you’d fallen into the river and got washed away.” Wei Wuxian admonished them half-heartedly, already lifting their baskets to inspect their batch. “Not bad, not bad indeed. I taught you well! Your yi’fu will make a stew for dinner.” 

Lan Wangji thumped his axe onto the block, scooped up the firewood and nodded. “Mn.” 

Living away from Cloud Recesses for so many seasons, he had slowly learned to cook non-vegetarian dishes for his family, especially for Jingyi, who had quite a carnivorous appetite. They’re growing boys, so they should have plenty of fish and soy and lean meat. 

When Jiang Cheng was their age, Wei Wuxian had lamented to Lan Wangji one night, his eyes taking on a far away look, he could eat Madam Yu and Uncle Jiang out of their house and home. 

“I’ll make Jingyi’s favourite. They did very well today,” Lan Wangji gave them a little smile.  

The boys grinned, basking in their father’s approval. 

“With pickled vegetables and chili pepper?” Jingyi pleaded hopefully, glowing with anticipation. 

Wei Wuxian pinched his cheeks, “Yes, my little dirt ball. Now go wash up, you’re both filthy, dear immortals. There’s water in the basin. A-Yuan, do you know how to use the fire talisman to -”

“Yes, gan’die.” The boys dropped their baskets onto the ground and sprinted off with a little cheer. 

Wei Wuxian sighed in contentment. “Boys...hmm!” 

Lan Wangji drew him shamelessly into his arms and was pressing kisses against his neck. “Hahahahaha, Lan Zhan, that tickles! And the neighbours will talk!” 

“We don’t have neighbours.” Lan Wangji mumbled against his nape, hiding a small smirk. It was true. The nearest hut was at least a good half a mile walk from theirs. 

“But they’ll still talk! Auntie Chen gave me the smuggest grin last I was in town to pick up supplies!” Wei Wuxian protested, half indignant, half delighted.  

Well, the truth was the venerated Hanguang-jun was a shameless exhibitionist when he was in the mood. A couple weeks back, they had been high up in the mountains cultivating together through duelling. The fight lasted the better half of the day and when they were done, Lan Wangji had apparently worked up another kind of appetite and ambushed the unsuspecting Wei Wuxian, ravishing him right up against an old pine three. Not expecting anyone to catch them in the act, Wei Wuxian saw no reason to keep quiet, which was how the two of them ended up giving a group of herb-picking aunties an eyeful of their “rigorous exercise.” 

That, and Lan Wangij’s increasing habit of leaving marks high up on his neck, too high to be covered by the fold of his lapel. 

And then there were nights when they’ve sent the boys off to be looked after by one of the many people who would be more than happy to spoil them (Nie Mingjue was somehow the worst but given the way Nie Huaisang turned out, it really shouldn’t have been a surprise), Wei Wuxian would emerge from a quick bath to find Lan Wangji draped across their bed in not a stitch, beckoning him with a demure little lowering of his gaze. 

“How would the fearless Yiling Laozu like Wangji tonight.” 

Wei Wuxian nearly died on the spot that one time. 

Lan Zhan, you absolute shameless tart.

Sometimes he had to remind himself that this was the man who once walked away from Cloud Recesses to volunteer himself for Wen Qing’s harem. Wen Qing was a strong woman who worshipped Jiang Yanli and adored Jiang Wanyin, but hmm…sometimes Wei Wuxian believed that if Lan Wangji wanted to, eventually even Wen Qing would have caved. Ooh, and then they would have a real harem. 

Jiang Cheng would be so jealous. 

Wei Wuxian chuckled inwardly. He was glad though that it was just Lan Zhan, the boys and himself in this quiet little cottage. It was almost the end of spring now, which meant they’d have to return to Cloud Recesses soon for the summer. Wei Wuxian sighed, content in Lan Wangji’s arm. He leaned back into him and watched the sun fade beyond the trees. 

The whole world was golden. 

“Wei Ying.” 

“Yah?” 

“Are you happy?” 

“I am, Lan Zhan, I am.” 

~~~

Jiang Cheng opened an eye to the fading sun. He was lying on a luxurious wicker lounge chaise with silk pillows and fur paddings, taking a glorious nap under the tall blooming willow tree. 

The warm weight of a small body burrowed into his side like a puppy drew his attention away from the sky. Pressed against his chest was a round, rosy cheek, slightly wet from the drool that trickled down from a rose-petal like mouth, a sight which endeared Jiang Cheng to no end. 

Very carefully, he shifted his weight and curled his arm around the toddler. 

“Jiang-xiansheng.” A servant curtseyed and greeted him quietly. It seemed she had waited for him to come to for some time. 

He had returned at noon from a week-long night hunt excursion with a blend of Wen and Jiang disciples. Both Wen Qing and A-jie were busy tending to sect matters, so he bathed, consumed a light lunch and found rest under his favourite willow tree. He hadn’t thought he would have company, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. 

“Cui-momo,” Jiang Cheng greeted. 

The old nanny smiled and said, “Lian’er-guniang wanted to nap by her diedie.”

“Of course she did.” At three years old, his only daughter and child was absolutely a spoiled princess. “You’re free to go, Cui-momo. I’ll take her from here on.” 

The momo hesitated. “Ah -” 

“Something the matter?” 

“Ah no. Just, fu’ren sent word saying she and the sect master will be dining here tonight, and that afterwards the sect master would be staying, so perhaps it would be inconvenient for guniang to stay.” 

Even after all these years, Jiang Cheng still couldn’t manage to hide a blush. Wen Qing was never one for public displays of affections, but it was no secret how much she adored Jiang Wanyin. And Jiang Yanli too was incredibly secure in her position and belief of Wen Qing’s affection that she often created little occasions for Wen Qing and Jiang Cheng to have quality time together while she monopolized little Wen Lian.

A-Qing, don’t neglect my little brother, she’d admonish, as if Wen Qing would ever. 

You just want A-Lian to yourself. 

Yes, that is true, and I want more A-Lians, so you and A-Cheng should go make more. 

Yanli!  

Wen Qing loved him and his sister beyond reason, equal but different. With Yanli, her feelings were almost akin to a reverent kind of worship, poignant and consuming in a way that her feelings for Jiang Cheng just wasn’t. A-jie once said that Wen Qing made her feel invincible, more than the demonic arts ever did, and Jiang Cheng wasn’t sure how they could love the same person and be so different in their love. 

With Jiang Cheng, Wen Qing was soft and gentle, their affection for each other easy and sustained, like a stream of clear water melting in the spring. His favourite moments are the mornings when Wen Qing would lean out the window by their bed, letting the sun catch the shine in her loose, spilling hair, in no rush to be anywhere or do anything except enjoy the moment with him at her side. 

Jiang Cheng sighed. After Lotus Pier’s massacre, he never thought he could be so happy again. 

“It’s quite alright, Cui-momo, I’m sure A-jie will want to take Lian’er for the night.” Jiang Cheng said to the old nanny. He picked up Wen Lian in his arms, rising from his lounge chair. The child slept on, none the wiser. 

“We’ll be heading down to Lanling in three days time. Have the packages been sent to Wei Wuxian?” 

“Yes, Hanguang-jun wrote back saying the robes are all in Wei-gongzi’s measurements.” 

“Excellent.” 

As a rule, Jiang Cheng didn’t enjoy going to Lanling, mostly because he couldn’t stand to even think about Jin Guangshan’s face. But the old fucker has been dead for a couple of years now - an “unfortunate” encounter with a small bout of qi deviation and falling down stairs - and Lanling Jin has become greatly more tolerable under Jin Zixuan’s leadership. With any luck, his union with Luo Qingyang would rid their clan of the residual effect of Jin Guangshan’s bullshit all together. 

“It won’t do to let the ‘venerated triad’ win in the wardrobe department. Lan Xichen is getting far too comfortable thinking he’s the epitome of fashion. I think we ought to keep him on his toes, don’t you think so, Cui-momo?” 

“Indeed, Jiang-xiansheng, I do.” 

Jiang Cheng smirked to himself, bouncing his precious toddler softly as he made his way back inside, not a worry on his mind. 

~ FIN

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Bad Boys

Warnings: noncon/dubcon (rough sex, oral), deception, stalking, obsession.

This is dark!(cop) Steve and Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a break-in, the reader struggles with her trauma and paranoia but those meant to keep her safe might just be dangerous.

Note: Shout-out to @buckybarnesplumwhore​ who helped come up with this idea!! It was fun. We needed so cop Steve and Bucky and I needed a breather from Summertime Sadness. Hope you guys enjoy this wild ride. Love you guys!

Leave some feedback, like and reblog if you can <3

You watched the men in their dark uniforms. One examined the contents of your book shelf as the other walked around the long sofa. You still felt as if you couldn’t breathe, still felt the plastic digging into your wrists, the blindfold a shroud over your eyes. The world was a haze in your fractured mind.

If you closed your eyes, you were still on the floor. Hands bound, ankles too. The black cloth kept you from seeing the strangers on the other side of it. Their footsteps ominous as they trode across the carpet to the hardwood. You heard them moving things, heard them touching your stuff, exploring your small apartment. 

You took a shaky breath and turned away from the officers as they searched the living room. They’d shown up shortly after you were found by the landlord. After the intruders left and you squirmed your way to the wall and kicked for over an hour. The policed had the cut ties in a plastic bag, the blindfold too.

“Did they say anything?” The blond officer asked from behind you.

“Only shushed me,” You said quietly. “Pushed me around… but nothing else.”

“Anything missing?” The dark-haired cop intoned. 

“Nothing I can see off-hand,” You turned back and crossed your arms. “I heard the opening the cupboards but… obviously I couldn’t see anything.”

The blond nodded and looked to the other. “Any valuables you have hidden?”

“There’s an envelope in my dresser. A jewelry box on top. They're still there. Other than the TV and maybe the laptop, I don’t know what else they would take.” You answered.

“And they didn’t do anything else to you besides tying you up.” The brunette asked. You stared at him a moment. He was familiar. The other too.

“No. No…” You shuddered. “I don’t know…”

“No other break-ins reported,” He added. “Neighbours didn’t see anything odd.”

“So if they didn’t take anything?” You wondered.

“Maybe thought they’d find more. Maybe chickened out of what they had planned.” The blond shrugged. “We haven’t found anything out of place.”

“What they had planned?” You repeated.

“Well…” The brown-haired cop took a deep breath. “They tied you up… Could’ve done anything.”

“You know how many there were?” The other asked quickly.

“No, but had to be more than one. Definitely.” You said.

“Two, three, more?” The blond prodded.

“I don’t know.” You touched your cheek as you felt ready to sob. “It was just so--so--”

“It’s okay,” He said. “Unfortunately, all we can do is file the report and turn in the restraints at the station. Can’t promise much result.”

“Maybe get your locks changed. A deadbolt. Use the chain,” The other added.

“Right,” You nodded meekly.

“Hey,” The other reached into his pocket. “We know it’s not much. That’s just the way these things go. Unfortunately.” He flicked a card out and held it towards you. “You call the precinct, ask for Rogers or Barnes.” You hesistantly took it from him. “My extension’s on there too.”

“Thanks,” You sighed. “Rogers…?”

“Yeah,” He raised a brow.

“Have we…” You tried to place the name to the face. “I think I know you.”

“Oh?” He shook his head.

“Couple weeks ago. Down at Central Youth Club? Kid named Rodney?” You asked. 

“Sticky fingers,” The brunette snickered. “I remember you now.”

“Heh, what are the chances,” Rogers said. “How’s the kid anyway?”

“I think you scared him straight,” You replied. “He’s a work in progress though.”

“So you work at the youth centre?” Barnes asked. “Anyone there that might have something to do with all this?”

“No, not that I can think of.” You wrung your hands. “The kids there, they aren’t bad, just lost.”

“Co workers?” Rogers asked.

“No,” You scoffed. “No, never.”

“Mmm,” Barnes grumbled. “Well, we might look into it just to be safe.”

“You never know. Outside of that, there’s not much else for us to go on.” Rogers hooked his thumb in his belt. “We’ll let you know if we find any leads.”

“Sure,” You followed them to the door. “Thanks again.”

“You just take care of yourself,” Rogers turned back as Barnes opened the door. “Never hurts to keep an eye out over your shoulder.”

“Alright,” You took the door handle as they continued into the hall. 

“You have a good night,” Rogers said and Barnes nodded in shared sentiment. “And don’t hesitate to call.”

“Sure,” You waved the cars between your fingers. “I will.”

You watched them go and the pit settled in your stomach. You slowly shut the door and turned the lock before you slid the chain into place. They must’ve picked it as there was no damage to the door. You shivered and pressed your back to the door. You wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon.

⚫

“What’s she up to?” Bucky asked as he came in the door; a paper bag in one hand and a tray of cups in the other.

“As much as usual,” Steve said as he leaned back in the chair and stretched his arms.

A laptop sat on the coffee table, open and bright as the lamps glowed yellow against the night blackening outside the windows. The house seemed empty these days, since Sharon had filed for the divorce. That was over a year ago. 

Irreconcilable differences. Bullshit. It was his job she hated. He didn’t have enough time for her, she claimed. He brought his work home too often. Well, what was she complaining about? He’d paid the mortgage and filled her closet with overpriced labels. He’d seen it coming but it didn’t make it any easier.

“That’s why I don’t bother with ‘em,” That was Bucky’s supportive response. No, Steve knew Bucky bothered with women, just not for very long.

Bucky dropped the bag and tray on the table beside the computer. “Hmmm,” He grumbled as he looked at the screen. She sat against the headboard, a book in her hands. She didn’t read much before her head shot up and she was searching the empty room. She never sat still for very long. She was as frightened as the night of the invasion. That was good.

Steve dug in the bag and took out a burger. His leg swayed lazily back and forth as he unwrapped it. “Think we should check in on her tomorrow?”

“What do you mean?” Bucky sat up and took a burger of his own. 

“Pop by the apartment, make up some bullshit about another break-in, something or the other,” Steve said. “Fix the camera in the kitchen.”

Bucky shrugged. “Nothing going on in the kitchen. Better we let her stew. She’s antsy. Close.”

“Wait…” Steve swallowed as his eyes zeroed in on the screen. “What is that?”

They watched as she sat back. Her book was closed on the night table as she held up the bright pink shape. It was the same vibe Bucky found the night they’d tied her up in the corner. She stared at it then slipped down slowly on the pillow. Both men leaned forward. 

She pulled up her tee shirt and slipped her hand past the elastic of her panties. Bucky hit a button and the frame zoomed in. Steve let out a long breath as she let out a small gasp. They could see her moving the toy beneath the cotton, the mic in her lamp caught every wisp of air that slipped from her lips.

Soon she was panting and moaning. Her legs were bent and toes pointed as she coaxed herself towards release. She muffled her orgasm as she came, one leg shot out and her back arched. She twitched and caught her breath. She pulled the toy out and let it fall to the mattress.

“Well…” Steve smirked. 

“Mmhmm,” Bucky shifted on the couch. “See… we wait. It’ll all fall into place.”

“Fuck,” Steve took another bite and swallowed before he continued. “I don’t know how long I can wait.”

“Trust me,” Bucky took a fry from the bag and popped it into his mouth. “It’ll be worth it.”

⚫

Adam was one of several counselours at the youth centre. After the attack, he hadq offered you a shoulder and an ear. You took it, briefly, but found yourself unable to put into words the fear and dread which had come to enshrine your life. 

Since that fateful day, he had driven you home every night. You were thankful, the crowds of the New York streets and the trains sent you into a spin. That night, you watched the lights streak through the window as the engine hummed. The car rides had grown comforting. At home, you were always alone; always vulnerable.

Often, you were silent. At work, you could force yourself to be like the old you for the kids. You could smile at them and ask about their problems. Show them how to fold an origami star or lead the daily tai chi session. It was routine, it was safe, it was assuring. 

In your apartment, there was no normal. Couldn’t be. Those men could return, they could easily break your lock, even the new thick deadbolt, and could do exactly as they had done before. Even worse. And they did that in your dreams during those short spurts you managed in the all-consuming dark.

The glare of street lights cleared in your vision and you stared up at your building. You picked at the strap of your bag. You let out a shuddery breath and Adam shifted in his chair.

“You okay?” He asked,

“Yeah, I just…” 

You looked through the windshield and your vision drew to a pinpoint. The man in the hoodie crossing the street, another loitering by the post, a third just opposite you with a cigarette between his lips. Was it them? Were they watching you right now? Would they strike again?

“You want me to…” He hesitated. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through but I can hang around for a bit. We can talk or not.” 

You looked over at him and sighed. You rubbed your cheek and thought. It might help to have company, even if just for an hour. He watched you but not in a way that made you uncomfortable; unpresuming and cool. He had a way of measuring his concern. You never felt coddled with him but always heard.

“Coffee?” You offered. “Tea?”

“Sure,” The deep lines of his forehead receded as he smiled. “Coffee sounds great.”

⚫

Your coffee machine let out a final, grating snarl. Adam sat along the counter that divided your kitchen from the rest of your apartment. He leaned on his elbows as he watched you fill two mugs and approach the other side. You slid on over to him, between the cream and sugar. He added a bit of each and stirred slowly. You took some cream and watched the dark coffee pale.

“So…” He began. “You thought about some time off at all?”

“Time off?” You repeated.

“A couple of days? You know you can’t go on like this.” He said. “Look I didn’t come here to play counselor but… those kids need you but not at your own expense.”

“I… can’t.” You inhaled the scent of your coffee but your stomach soured at the thought of it. “I can’t be here all the time. Can’t be alone all the time.”

“You got family? Parents? You should go see ‘em.”

“They don’t… know,” You admitted. “I couldn’t-- My mom warned me when I moved here. She was right. It’s not safe.”

“So? You think she’d be happy to know she’s right? Or do you think she’d be mother to her daughter?” He challenged.

You shrugged. “I’m embarrassed. I don’t want to talk about it all the time. Don’t wanna think about it all the time.”

He nodded. “You do tai chi with the kids. Does it help?”

“The kids help. They have bigger problems and they’re so much younger and they’re so much braver.”

“Bravery is not a contest,” He pushed his coffee away. “You’re right, they have their own problems and you can’t shoulder them with your own. You should at least try to meditate on your own. Here. Reclaim this space for you. Don’t let them take it from you.”

“I can’t… breathe in here. It’s like walking into a furnace. I feel like I’m suffocating, like the flames are licking up at me. One wrong step and I’m nothing more than fodder.” You rubbed your forehead.

“You thought of moving?” He asked.

You laughed darkly. “Funny how that’s even more frightening. This place has become purgatory and yet, the outside, a world full of strangers, that is hell. Demons waiting with sinister thoughts; conspiring against me.”

“So… how do you get through the nights? You drinking?” He wondered.

“I bought a case of beer but couldn’t touch it. My neighbour offered me a puff but… not worth my job,” You said. “I just kind of am.”

“What about friends? It would be good to have someone with you,” He stood and slowly rounded the counter. 

“Busy. As always. Maybe they just don’t want to deal with the damaged victim,” You moped.

“So, is that it? You couldn’t save yourself so you save others from you?” He asked. “There’s nothing wrong with you. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I don’t know that.” You breathed. “I think about that day, I should’ve known. I heard them, I swear, when I unlocked the door but I just ignored that stabbing in my chest. Door was locked, how could anyone be inside? But then… they were waiting for me and… so stupid.”

“No,” He touched your arm shyly. “No, you weren’t because how can anyone expect humans to be so needlessly cruel?”

“Anyone with a brain,” You frowned. “I should’ve listened to my mom.”

“You need to let go. You have to realize that you can’t change the past but you can change the present. You don’t have to be helpless.” He insisted.

“Adam,” You looked up at him. You searched his pale blue eyes and slowly placed your hand over his. You drew it away from your arm and clung to his hand. He watched you, patiently, intently. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“Okay,” He said softly. “Okay.”

“No, you--” You shook your head and huffed. You stood on your toes and pressed your lips to his. You pulled away slowly and stared at him. “So?”

He blinked and his fingers fluttered across his lips. “So,” He uttered. “You don’t have to be alone.”

⚫

“Who the fuck is this guy?” Bucky asked, his foot up on the coffee table as he slumped back on the sofa.

Steve hung his heavy jacket up in the closet before he made his way into the living room. “What?” He asked as he checked his watch.

“She’s got some dude with her,” He said darkly. 

Steve could hear her voice but couldn’t discern her words through the small speaker. “Turn it up.”

“Don’t think I need to,” Bucky dropped his feet to the floor and looked closer. He switched cameras as he watched her pull the tall blonde man through her living room. 

“I know him,” Steve sat beside his partner. “Works with her.”

He went silent and his jaw ticked as the pair fell onto the couch, entwined together in a fervour. His hand balled into a fist as a wave of anger swept through him. Seeing her with another man was stunningly infuriating. She was his; theirs. They’d been watching her for almost a month. She had become a staple of their lives.

“Well, can’t say what it’ll do for their working relationship,” Bucky scoffed.

Steve nodded and pushed his tongue along the inside of his lip. He was livid. He felt worse than he had a week ago when he saw that photo of Sharon and the big lunk she had dropped him for. Irreconcilable differences, indeed. Well, he didn’t need her anymore, he had a new girl. One that wouldn’t be so unruly. He’d make sure of that.

“Hey,” Bucky elbowed him. “It’s good. Means she close. She’s gonna fuck him and then what? One night stands don’t encourage a healthy professional environment and you know how these things go. One night isn’t gonna fix what we did. Not gonna fix her.”

Steve let out a long breath from his nostrils. He watched them undress each other frantically. His blood boiled. Bucky chuckled in amusement as he watched the screen closer. Steve began to wring his hands, he wanted to barge in and pummel this guy. They had put in all this work and he was reaping the benefits.

“I can’t watch this,” He snarled. 

“Come on,” Bucky turned to him. “You telling me this isn’t getting you hot.”

Steve glanced at the screen again. She was straddling him, she rode him slowly as her moans droned in the speakers. He couldn’t deny that his body was responding. That he was getting hard thinking of himself beneath her like that.

“It’s not supposed to be him,” Steve rasped.

“No, it’s not,” Bucky smirked. “But trust me, we can use this.”

Steve shook his head, confused. He glanced between Bucky and the laptop.

“Look, go, calm down, and I’ll explain when you’ve… cooled off.” Bucky clapped his shoulder. “Alright?”

“Fine,” Steve pushed himself to his feet, quick to turn away as his erection bulged inside his navy pants.

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked back. Bucky’s eyes were glued to the stream and the gentle mewls mingled with a deeper voice. Steve cracked his neck and headed upstairs. He didn’t miss the subtle zip that followed his departure. 

Before, before her, the house was unbearably empty. He just came home, watched some old western, and fell asleep before heading back out to the streets. At least when Sharon had still been there, he could talk to her, even if it was about nothing. He could at least pretend like his life was complete. Like he had meaning. 

He thought it would turn around eventually. That Sharon would be expecting by now and he’d be working to be a father. Well, those plans had gone to shit. So that meant this time, he had to plan better.

He went to the bathroom but didn’t bother to close the door. Bucky would be distracted for a while. He undressed in a stupor. His mind was a flurry of anger and impatience. He hung his belt on the door handle and kicked his shoes towards the hall. He let his clothes pile on the tile and stared at himself in the mirror. He pushed his shoulders back and took a deep breath.

He turned the faucet and stepped into the glass shower. It was recently renovated. He’d replaced the frosted barrier with an entirely transparent booth. He wanted to be able to watch her whenever he wanted. When they had her at last, she’d never escape his sight. Never.

He planted his hands against the wall below the shower head. He leaned on them heavily and let the hot water wash over his muscles. He closed his eyes and thought of that day. They were careful and perfect. They changed out of their uniforms, pulled on the masks and gloves just outside her apartment. They had been certain to hide in the stairwell until none were around. Bucky picked the lock in seconds.

Inside, they began their work. They placed every camera and tested them. The mics too. Then they waited. Steve was just as hard then when he heard her enter. He held his breath as he listened to her moving around. As she entered the bedroom, he slipped out from behind the door and seized her. Her struggles had her ass rubbing against his crotch.

It ached just the same as he thought about it. His right hand slipped and his fingers wrapped around his cock. He thought about her tied up and blindfolded on the floor. They searched further. No weapons but some sex toys and other naughty secrets. Steve still had the pair of lilac coloured panties he’d stuffed in his pocket. He’d made sure to keep them in his jacket when they returned in their uniforms.

He stroked faster and faster as he thought of the fear in her eyes. The way she’d shied away from him and Bucky. Then she softened as they asked her questions, offered her help. She was easy. Too easy. He thought of the blond man from her work and growled. Thought of her bouncing atop him. His body shook and he cried out as he came.

He couldn’t wait much longer.

⚫

You were almost done for the day. Your small office was really a closet attached to the rec room. You sent off an email then finished tidying up the game pieces left out by the kids. When you were done, you lingered behind the door and peeked out. Things had been awkward since that night. Adam hadn’t driven you since. You avoided him and your own shame. A moment of weakness.

The coast was clear. You crept out and waved goodbye to the receptionist behind the window. She smiled and trilled her own farewell. You were quick to escape as you feared she would alert the man you were avoiding.

You hugged your bag as you sat on the subway. Your phone vibrated in your hand and the screen lit up with a new email. The sender was unfamiliar; no title, either. You opened it and your nerves began to flurry. They never quite stopped but they pinged around wildly as the thumbnail loaded for a video.

You muted your phone before you hit play. You quickly hid your screen as the footage began. It was you on your couch, on top of Adam. What the fuck? You stopped the video and read the single subtitle beneath; I know what you did.

You felt as if you would vomit. You closed the tab and locked your phone. Your stop was coming up. You jittered at the door until they opened and raced through the station. You didn’t stop, out of breath by the time you reached your apartment on the fifth floor. 

You barely got your key in the slot to unlock it. You slammed the door behind you and threw your bag against the wall. You began to search for any sign, any flashing light, any glare of a lense. You tore books off the shelf, moved your TV from its stand, pulled every picture off the wall. You lost yourself in a mania.

You only stopped when a knock sounded at the door. Your heart was in your throat. You grabbed the broom from the closet and went to the door. You peered through the peephole. You flinched, confused. It was the same officers as before. You carefully opened the door and set aside the broom.

“Hello?” You greeted with a frown.

“Hey, again,” Rogers stood with hands on his hips. “Noise complaint.”

“Noise…” You realized then how the crashing and stomping must have seemed. “Sorry I was just…”

“What’s going on?” Barnes glanced past you at the mess in your living room. “You okay?”

“Fine.” You assured them weakly. “Just lost...something.”

They looked at each other before they turned back to you. “You sure?” Rogers asked. “It okay if we come in and just look around?”

“Uh, yeah,” You stepped back and pressed yourself to the open door. They entered and you slouched in shame as you reluctantly followed them.

“Whatever you lost must be really important,” Barnes neared the television still on the floor.

“I just... “

“You think maybe it was taken?” Rogers spun to look at you. “Maybe you didn’t notice.”

You nodded and hung your head. “Yeah, maybe. Look, I’m sorry.” You walked along the back of the couch. “I’ll keep it down. I didn’t mean to disturb anyone.”

They were silent as they continued to look around. They didn’t believe you. Well, you were a poor liar.

“I… Someone’s watching me.” You almost whispered.

“What was that?” Barnes footsteps were deliberate as he neared the other side of the couch.

“Someone’s…” You lifted your head and cleared your throat. “Someone’s watching me since… since the attack.”

“Watching you? What do you mean?” Barnes asked.

“There’s… a camera, somewhere. That’s what I was looking for and…” You gulped. “I sound crazy.”

“No, no,” Rogers stood at the other corner of the couch. “How do you know someone’s watching?”

“I just… know it,” You cowered. “I… can’t tell you how I know.”

“Well, you’re going to have to if we’re gonna do anything about it.” Rogers said.

You chewed your lip and shook your head. “Nevermind. I’m just… crazy.”

“If you have proof of this, you need to show us.” Barnes crossed his arms.

“If you have anything that can support these claims and your withholding it, you could be charged with obstruction.” Rogers warned.

“Your case is still open,” Barnes added. “Anything you can give us will help it from being shelved.”

“I… no, it could ruin my career.” You shied away. “If you submit it then… I could be fired.”

“Well…” Rogers said and shared a look with his partner. “Say you show us and we don’t report it. An unofficial lead. Just between us.”

“Show you…” You quivered. “I…”

“I’m sorry, Miss, but if you have nothing to back up these claims, we can’t bother following up,” Barnes said. “And you could be charged on a false report.”

“What if I just promise to keep it down?” You asked.

“That’s not how this works.” Barnes shook his head. “Look, we responded to a call here. We need something.”

You were silent for a moment. “Then I can take a fine for the complaint.”

“If someone is watching you, don’t you think it better to have us looking out for you?” Rogers insisted. “Especially after the attack.”

You blanched at the word. Attack.

“They could strike again,” Barnes stated.

You sighed and nodded. You passed Rogers and grabbed your bag from beside the door. You opened your phone and searched for the email. Your eyes stung as you held it up. His eyes rounded as he registered what was on the screen and you rescinded your hand. You pressed the phone to your chest.

“See,” You said. “They’re watching me.”

Rogers thought for a moment, his toe tapped as his blue eyes searched the wall behind you. “We can’t let you stay here. It’s not safe.”

“But… but you can’t… you…”

“We’ll keep that little video between us,” He said gently. “But in good conscience, I can’t let you stay.”

“So… you taking me in?” You asked. 

“They don’t process people for noise complaints,” Barnes assured. “And I doubt you’d want us to make up some other charge. Sure that would be quite the mark on your record.”

“So…”

“You got friends?” Rogers asked. “A couch to crash on?”

“Hmmm,” You opened your phone and scrolled through your contacts. 

Maya was out of town til Friday, Ashley didn’t have much room and her fiance wasn’t your biggest fan, and everyone else was outside the city. Adam was a definite no. “No… I… No one in the city.”

Steve pursed his lips as he thought. “Well,” He started carefully. “It’s a bit unorthodox but… I got a couch, a whole guest room actually. I could… see ya through the night and you can figure something out in the morning?”

“Oh?” You were taken aback at the offer. “I don’t know… I’d hate to… intrude.”

“You wouldn’t,” He said. “I’m on duty til midnight so I’ll drop you off, you’ll have the whole place to yourself for a couple hours at least.”

You furrowed your brow as you thought. “Couldn’t you get in trouble?”

“Only if anyone finds out,” Steve said. “You’re not gonna rat me out, are you, Barnes?”

Barnes chuckled. That was his answer.

“And if I say no?”

“Then we’d be obligated to seize your phone as evidence in the open case and we would charge you with obstruction.” Barnes stated plainly. “If we left you here and something happened, that’s on us.”

“Alright,” You relented. “Okay. I guess… you’re right.”

“Okay,” Steve said. “Why don’t you grab your stuff and we’ll wait for you in the hall?”

You nodded and attempted a smile. It fizzled as that same terrible doom nestled in your stomach. You shrugged it off as nothing more than the video on the phone and the unsettling knowledge that you had been under observation for so long. The officers closed the door behind them, their shadows loomed beneath the door. You’d be safe with them.

⚫

Rogers, rather Steve as he requested you call him, had a nice house. Barnes grumbled that his name was Bucky but was less insistent. Steve showed you in, a brief tour before he left. The place was neat; orderly even. The carpet in the living room was recently vacuumed, the television sat on a large stand with alphabetized movies lining its lower shelves. Every inch of the room was carefully arranged.

Except for the laptop. The computer sat on the coffee table, closed and lifeless. You wondered if he had left it there in a hurry or if that was just the place for it. You paced around the room and overanalyzed every inch of it. Anything to distract you from what had led you here.

When your nerves finally relented, you climbed the stairs to the guest room where he had left your bag. You changed into a pair of pajama pants and a cropped tee. You’d grabbed the wrong one. You tucked away your old clothes and left the bag against the wall. You closed the door and crawled into bed with your phone. 

You opened your Spotify and lowered the volume so that the tones floated through the air softly. You let the music lull you in this unfamiliar place. You wrapped yourself in the thick duvet and curled up on the bed’s edge. You drifted off and your dreams carried you back to your apartment.

You were roused once by footsteps passing your door. You sat up frantic and raced over to ease it open. It was only Steve. He disappeared through a door and you fell asleep once more; this time to the hum of the shower across the hall. This time, you didn’t dream.

When you awoke again, the sun shone in through the lace curtains and you sat up with a groan. You hadn’t slept so well since before the break-in. You stretched and stood with a yawn. You tidied your hair with your fingers and crept out to the hall. You listened for any hint of movement. Maybe he was still sleeping.

You carefully descended the stairs. You rubbed your eyes as you entered the living room. You stopped dead beside the couch. The laptop was open and on. The screen shone back at you. The air went out of you and you stumbled around and dropped down onto the couch. 

You apartment was clear across the screen. The cameras flicked between each room. The stream was live, the place was still a mess. You squinted and tried to understand. How? What was going on? You stood and scurried around the couch. Steve blocked your path and coffee splashed over the edge of the mug in his hand.

“Woah,” He grabbed your shoulder and steadied you. “I thought I heard you. I made you a coffee.”

“Steve,” You pulled away from him. “What the hell is going on?”

He didn’t seem bothered by your panic or your discovery as he smiled over at the laptop. He set you mug down on the table and turned to face you.

“What? I just wanna keep you safe.”

“How did you-- I don’t--” Your breath hitched as you backed away from him.

“Just sit down and have your coffee and we’ll talk.” He reached out to you.

“N-no, I… wanna go.” You gulped. “Steve, I’m going.”

He tilted his head, amused. You edged around the table to the other end of the couch. He didn’t move. But as you made to pass the sofa, you were blocked again. Bucky emerged from the kitchen. He closed you in as he crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“Where are we going?” He asked.

“What the-- You… you better let me go or-- or---”

“You’ll call the police?” Bucky laughed. “Go ahead.”

You winced and looked between them. Your head spun. “It was… you. Wasn’t it?”

“We had to show you,” Steve said. 

“Show me?” You sputtered.

“That you need us. That you aren’t safe by yourself.”

“No, no, I was safe without you,” You spat. “You’ve been…. Oh, I’ve been so… stupid.”

“You’re lucky it was us. This city is full of scum. Could you imagine if one of them had picked your lock? You know what we’ve seen done to girls like you?” Bucky neared and you backed away, your leg knocked the corner of the table. “Those men, they do worse. Cut girls up and if they don’t just maim them, they kill them. Leave them on display as a little present for us.”

You were stopped suddenly. Steve pressed himself to you as his arms wrapped around your body. “We don’t want to hurt you,” He cooed. 

“No,” You wriggled and tired to kick at Bucky. “No, no, no. Please--”

Bucky caught your legs and lifted them. You continued to squirm as the men held you between them. “Now, we don’t want to hurt you,” Bucky grunted. “But if we need to, we will… we can.”

“Why are you doing this?” You whined. “Ple-e-ease.”

“Mmm, I love to hear her beg,” Bucky said as they angled you around the couch. “‘Please, Officer, he’s just a kid.’”

You struggled harder as he imitated you. Your veins turned to ice as you recalled that day. Uneventful but for their visit. You hadn’t thought much of it; you’d dealt with enough cops at your job. But they had taken it as more. As an opportunity.

“Now, stop,” Bucky squeezed your legs. “You’re gonna hurt yourself or we’re gonna have to hurt you.”

They carried you towards the stairs. You stilled but trembled in their grasp. “Please…” You croaked. “Please… don’t do this.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Steve’s arm hugged your waist as his hand brushed across the bare patch of your stomach. “You’ll be safe here. I made it safe for you.”

“Ugh, no,” You wriggled again but it was hopeless. They were both too strong.

They ignored your resistance easily and past the door of the room where you’d slept. They took you inside the one at the end of the hall, a large bed inside. They dropped you on it and you tried to hop up. Bucky caught you by your arm and forced you back down. Steve grabbed your other wrist as they pulled you up the mattress.

There were cuffs attached to the posts. They forced your wrists into them and locked them tightly. You kicked your legs desperately as they pushed themselves off the bed. The metal dug into your skin.

Bucky crossed to the desk by the window and took a pair of scissors. He neared the bed again and Steve approached him. He held out a hand and they had a silent exchange. Bucky handed the scissors over and Steve smiled. 

Bucky grabbed your ankles and held them down as Steve got up on his knees and carefully cut along the side of your pants. He tugged them out from beneath you and tossed them away from him. Then he cut away your shirt and you sniffed back the tears as they burned in your eyes. Your panties were all that were left. 

Steve handed Bucky the scissors and climbed between your legs. He held them down as he bent to nuzzle your cunt through the panties. He inhaled and sighed. You quivered helplessly. “Steve, please,” You begged. “I’m scared.”

His hands slipped from your legs and you tried to kick him. Bucky caught your left ankle and squeezed. “I’ll break it. Now stop.”

You went limp and let out a pathetic sob. Steve’s large hands stretched across his stomach as he pulled aside your panties with the other. His cool tongue made you squeak as it delved between your folds. Shyly at first, as if tasting you, as if savouring you. You closed your eyes and clutched your hands in fists. It shouldn’t feel good. 

Bucky paced around the bed. You opened your eyes and found him watching. His jaw clenched as his eyes darkened. His gaze met yours and he slid his tongue across his bottom lip.

“You like fucking that dude on your couch like a slut?” He snarled. Your lips parted and you shuddered. Steve’s tongue plucked at your core. “Well, you’re gonna like this a whole lot more.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and bit your lip as you whined. Steve’s tongue circled your clit and he suckled. He dragged two fingers along your folds and spread your juices. Your thighs tenses and you bent your legs as you tried to fight the rising waves. You couldn’t. You succumbed with a long moan, rattled as you writhed. He purred as you came into his mouth.

He drew away slowly. He let your panties slip back into place and Bucky took his spot. He pushed your panties against your slick cunt until they were soaked. He grinned and pulled at the seams until they snapped. He ripped them out from beneath you and threw them at Steve who admired them and sniffed them without shame.

You let out a yelp as Bucky shoved two fingers into you without warning. He rammed them in and out a few times before he slowed. He turned his hand and curled his fingers as he pressed his palm to your clit. He squeezed and moved his hand frantically. You couldn’t help your yipes, the shock as the tension built again, this time quicker. 

He forced the orgasm from you and left you sore and groaning. He licked his fingers clean and shoved them in your again. This time he was slower but your body responded. He drew you to the edge and stopped. He pushed himself away and wiped his fingers along your thigh. He stood and patted Steve on the shoulder.

“You first,” Bucky said. “While she’s fresh.”

Steve nodded and rolled his tongue behind his bottom lip as he looked to you. You averted your eyes as he began to undress. Each piece of clothing fluttered to the floor loudly in the deathly silence. The mattress shifted and you still couldn’t look. He bent over you and his mouth closed around your nipple. 

He played with your tits for a while. Tended to them as if reluctant to move on. He plied kissed along your stomach, your hips your vee. He sat up on his heels and draped your legs over his thick thighs. His cock prodded at your cunt and he rubbed his tip along your folds.

He eased into you as he shifted closer. Had your ass off the mattress as he sank to his limit. You let out a moan, as much pain as pleasure. Your walls were snug around him and clenched around him. He began to rock slowly. Each time he wiggled his pelvis against you, sinking as far as he could.

As his pace mounted, you sensed movement at the end of the bed. Clothes thrown to the floor heavily. Bucky came around and stood at the side of the bed. He lifted a knee onto the bed and then another. He neared and lifted your head with one hand. You tried to turn away and his other hand went to your throat.

“Don’t even think of biting me,” He sneered. “Or you won’t have teeth left.”

“Hey,” Steve warned between huffs. “Be nice… Oh, sweetheart.”

Bucky’s hand went to your jaw and he squeezed until you opened your mouth. He slid his cock past your lips in a single motion and cradled your head as he thrust down your throat. He groaned as you gagged and spasmed. The static built and threatened to erupt as Steve sped up. 

Your eyes rolled back and you came, your cries muffled by Bucky’s cock. Slobber spilled out around your lips as he fucked your mouth and kept time with Steve’s increasing pace. You struggled to breath around Bucky as your body bounced against Steve. Then suddenly it stopped.

Steve pulled out and let out a groan. Bucky took it as a cue and slipped out of your mouth so quick you choked. Steve stood and went to the night stand. He opened the drawer and pulled out a key. He held it up and looked to Bucky.

“We’ll flip her.” He said and Bucky nodded.

He unlocked the cuff from around the bedpost and handed the key to Bucky who released your wrist from the other. They turned you over and held you down as they twisted your arms behind your back and cuffed them together. You were left face down on the mattress as they moved around you.

You were dragged back and Steve climbed up to sit between you and the bedframe. He lifted your head and rubbed his cock against your lips. You opened and he pushed himself to your throat. You were ashamed. Ashamed because that voice in your head told you to be. Because you body would not obey that voice.

You felt Bucky behind you. He slipped his hands under your hips and lifted your ass as he knelt between your legs. He guided his cock along your folds and plunged into you just as roughly as he had with his fingers. You were jolted forward and gagged on Steve’s cock as it hit the back of your throat. 

And they picked up their tempo again. They moved your body back and forth between them, your back arch painfully. Bucky’s hand spread across your ass and he slapped you. He pinched you and you groaned around Steve and Bucky spanked you again. Steve kept your head bobbing up and down as you knotted your fingers together behind your back.

You hummed as you came. Your walls tightened around Bucky and you felt the gush around him. He went faster, the sounds of flesh grew louder, and Steve’s voice flowed through you as he moaned. He swore and his hands clutched your head as he stilled you. He came with a twitch and spilled down your throat.

He pulled out and his cum leaked from your mouth. He traced his finger around your lips as he played with the mix of his semen and your spit. He pushed two fingers against your tongue until you sucked on them and he pet your head in approval. He rescinded his head and moved so that your head rested against his thigh.

Bucky didn’t waver. He fucked you even harder as Steve’s hand rubbed your shoulder. Bucky grunted then growled. He didn’t stop though and only did when he had cum entirely. He stayed inside you as he caught his breath. He rolled his hips and sighed.

“I told you,” Bucky said. “It would be worth the wait.”