#duly noted... will throw it in some fics

[fkmarrycill]

Yes, let this man be spicy in peace.

[lokileaf]

Hi!! I’m new to tumblr so I’m not sure if I’m doing this right but I just wanted to make a request. And I wanted to say I read your fics and they are amazing!

I was wondering if you could do a fic where the reader is an avenger, and everyone lives in the avengers tower (ignoring endgame and civil war). And there’s lots of tension between the reader and Loki and the other avengers notice. Then they start secretly seeing each other while sneaking around the avengers tower trying not to get caught.

Sorry if this is too much to ask, thanks!!

I Think You Know

Loki x Reader

Hi! Thank you so much for reading and requesting! This is officially my first request!

You shut the fridge with a huff, disappointed at the lack of breakfast options it contained. You turned to the pantry, hoping to make yourself some toast for some quick energy before your morning run. Opening the pantry door, you were met with a completely empty bread bag.

"Okay, guys," you said, snatching the empty bag from the shelf. You brandished it in front of everyone occupying the kitchen.

"If you're going to be greedy and eat my bread, you can at least throw the bag away."

"Don't look at me," Natasha replied, waving a yogurt-covered spoon at you.

You turned your accusing glare to Sam.

"Nuh uh," he said, pointing a finger at you as he left the room.

Wanda laughed as she placed her dish in the sink.

"You might want to ask the Asgardian's brother," she mentioned before leaving.

Of course.

You and Loki had a... complicated relationship, for lack of a better term. He was constantly finding little ways to irritate the hell out of you. Leaving your bedroom door open when specifically asked him to close it, setting the thermostat way too low, interrupting you when you clearly had headphones on.

You angrily threw the empty bread bag in the trash, giving up on the idea on the idea of breakfast.

Fasted cardio it is.

You made your way to your room, quickly changing into some leggings and a long sleeve and pulling your shoes on. Thor and Loki were walking by as you went to leave, your eyes narrowing on the dark-haired brother.

"Laufeyson," you muttered to yourself as you left.

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

You paused your music as you entered the elevator, anxious to shower and grab something to eat. The elevator dinged as it reached the top floor and you were met with a blast of freezing air, made even colder by the sweat you had worked up. You rolled your eyes, already knowing exactly who was behind the drop in temperature.

You stomped through the common area, too annoyed to notice that the entire team was present. You scanned the room for Loki and found him leaning against the island countertop.

"Laufeyson," you said accusingly.

He turned to face you, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Quite. Touching. The thermostat," you snapped, punctuating each word with a sharp poke to his chest.

"It is way too cold in here and not all of us are Frost Giants."

He looked down at you with that insufferable smirk still in place. His silence made you pause, feeling your face begin to burn as you realized you had an audience. You risked a glance around the room, feeling everyone's eyes on you. Natasha raised an eyebrow as your gaze met hers, forcing you back to reality.

"Just.. quit touching the thermostat," you muttered.

"Duly noted," Loki replied, watching as you retreated from the room.

"What was that?" Tony asked, clearly speaking for the entire team.

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

You grunted as he landed yet another hit to your torso, growing increasingly frustrated with yourself. Loki grinned, clearly pleased with himself and his ability to best you again and again.

Steve had organized a team training session that day and as luck would have it, you were partnered with Loki. You both knew that it was a completely unfair match but that didn't stop you from attempting to take your frustration out on him.

Unsuccessfully.

With every offensive move he blocked and every hit he landed, your irritation with him grew. Something in you snapped as he moved to throw another punch your way and you grabbed his arm, twisting it as you forced him to the floor. The matches that had been occurring around you promptly stopped, the entire team pausing to see you straddling Loki, pinning him to the floor. The silence was deafening has he looked up at you, your heavy breathing the only sound in the room.

"You can release me now, darling," he said softly.

You immediately let go of his wrists, quickly standing up and offering a hand to help him up. He took it, allowing you to pull him up from the floor. He stared down at you, seemingly unbothered the team's stares.

"Alright, alright, get back to work," Steve said, finally breaking the silence. "One more round and you all can be done for the day."

Your final match commenced with less fanfare than the previous one, but you were distracted. He had let you pin him. Right? There was no other explanation. But why?

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

That night, you had resigned yourself to your room, craving some time alone and away from him. You lit a candle on your nightstand before cracking open a book you had been neglecting.

After half an hour, you were finally beginning to relax and unwind from whatever this weird tension was that existed between you and Loki. Craving something sweet, you abandoned your book to scrounge around for a late night snack. As you walked down the dark hallway toward the kitchen, you could hear footfalls behind you.

Upon entering the kitchen, you swiftly turned, positioning yourself in preparation to attack the intruder. A strong hand caught your arm before you could strike, forcing the stranger into the light of the empty kitchen.

"That's no way to greet a friend, darling," Loki's low voice chided.

You snatched your arm back from him.

"You and I are not friends," you mutter, making your way to the pantry. You opened the door and quickly scanned the shelves for a suitable late night snack. Grabbing a tin of vanilla wafers and turning to leave, you felt your back press against his chest and jumped slightly. You hadn't even heard him step closer. You froze, feeling your heart begin to race.

"What do you want, Loki?" you sighed, letting your arms drop to your sides. You fought a shiver as he brushed your hair back from your shoulder, embarrassed by how responsive your body had become to his touch.

Oh.

You knew what this was. This odd strain that had developed between the two of you.

You liked him.

The realization began to sink in as you turned to face him, suddenly anxious. By the smirk on his face, you knew that he had figured out your feelings toward him long before you had.

"I think you know," he replied, caging you loosely against the wall with his arms. You couldn't help the flush that rose on your cheeks.

“You’ll have to clarify,” you said with a confidence you didn’t feel. If he wanted to see where this was going, you were going to make him say it out loud. He leaned down to close the gap created by his towering height.

“Stop me,” he said, voice barely above a whisper as his lips ghosted over yours. You stayed quiet, silently willing him closer as you closed your eyes.

After an excruciatingly long second, his lips claimed yours, eliciting a small gasp from you. You felt him smile into the kiss, sliding his hands down your sides to draw you closer by the waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck in response, pulling him down closer to your height.

You threaded a hand through his hair, pulling slightly at the roots. He grunted softly, picking you up by your thighs and walking over to the kitchen island to set you on the countertop. His mouth trailed hot kisses across your jaw and down your neck, drawing soft sighs from your body. His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, barely beginning to lift the fabric before you interrupted.

“Wait. Stop,” you whispered hastily.

“Yes, darling?”

“Bedroom. Now.”

You couldn’t conceal your grin as he lifted you up once more, carrying you straight to your room and shutting the door behind him.

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

“Someone’s coming,” you whispered, breaking your kiss.

Loki pulled back slightly to listen for footsteps but heard nothing.

“Darling, I don’t foresee anyone coming out to the fire escape,” he replied with a lighthearted smile. Hiding your relationship from the rest of the team had made you jumpy, but that didn’t stop him from seeking you out at every opportunity.

“You don’t know that,” you said, pulling him back down to continue your previous ministrations.

“I’m fairly certain I do,” he mumbled against your lips, going silent again as you wrapped your legs around his hips. He pressed you down against the metal grating of the fire escape platform, grinding against you to create some much needed friction. Your lips parted in a silent moan, encouraging him to continue.

Your phone beeped loudly, interrupting the intimate moment with a notification calling for all team members to report to the conference room for a meeting. You groaned as Loki’s pager received the same notification.

He smiled softly as he stood, offering you a hand. You take it and allow him to pull you to your feet, a frown on your face.

“Leave it to Stark to be a cockblock,” you muttered as the two of you climbed back into the tower, making your way to the conference room for whatever mind-numbing announcement Tony had in store.

The previously chatter-filled room when silent as you entered, Loki close behind.

“What the hell is that?” Sam asked, pointing at you from his seat at the back of the room.

“What is what?” you shot back, quickly becoming annoyed.

“That thing on your neck,” Wanda said, handing you an opened compact mirror. You took it, quickly checking your reflection and immediately seeing the sizable purple hickey Loki had left on the side of your neck.

“Damn,” Clint sighed, slapping a small wad of cash into Natasha’s open hand.

[matt-murdockk]

Good Night

trope: 'too many beds' from this here list

words: 1.7k (bigger next time, promise)

pairing: neal caffrey x reader

fandom: white collar

warnings: language, maybe? this is a fluff/crack fic, we are here solely for the vibe; ps- the fic is from the reader's pov

Only God knows why this stakeout required having to stay at a motel. Not a hotel, god, no. Because after years of authorizing literally a shit ton of money for cases, now is when Hughes decided to be financially responsible. Screw you, dude. Also thanks for hiring me I love working white collar.

Anyway, this means that I get to spend the night at this dingy motel on a highway almost outside our jurisdiction with none other than everyone's favorite convict (said with hate and sarcasm), Neal Caffrey.

Am I mad about it? Why, yes. Yes, I am. Not just at the fact that literally anyone could have gone in my place but they insisted I go, but also at the fact that I just so happen to absolutely despise spending time alone with Neal. Ok fine, I may have a teeny tiny crush on him, a really small one that makes it hard for me to work with him because it makes me act stupid.

cut to flashback

I was taking a file to Peter's office when Neal saw me and walked over to me with two cups of coffee in his hand.

"Hey, (Y/n)! I got you coffee from that place you like."

A normal person would have accepted the cup, thanked him, and walked away. Am I that kind of normal? God, no.

I looked at him like he had threatened to kill my dog, and said, "I stopped drinking coffee this morning," and took that cup, threw it in the trash next to me, and sprinted the rest of the way to Peter's office. This poor man just stood there, confused.

and we're back

So, yes. This was on Monday so he'd had a couple days to really let it marinate. I was driving to June's place to pick him up when it dawned on me how painfully silent this car ride could be. Instead, the minute he got inside the car, he started having a normal conversation with me like I hadn't trashed his coffee a couple days earlier.

If he noticed the tension in my voice, he didn’t let on. Instead, he just kept talking, filling the car with this easygoing chatter about everything from Peter’s latest case blunder to some new exhibit he wanted to check out. It was almost like he was doing it on purpose like he could sense that I was trying to avoid looking at him, trying to act casually. But, of course, he could act casually—he was Neal Caffrey. I was the one whose brain short-circuited at a simple gesture he'd do for anyone, maybe.

Finally, after ten minutes of me grunting and nodding like some sort of malfunctioning robot, he looked at me with a knowing smile. “So, we're just going to pretend you didn't toss my coffee in the trash?"

Oh good lord what fresh hell is this? How am I supposed to respond to that? Oh, that? sorry, I love you.

"I panicked, okay? It was a reflex!"

"Your reflex was to throw my coffee in the trash?"

"Hey man, I'm the new girl, I don't have friends yet. I'm not used to people being all..."

"All what?"

"Nice!"

"You're not used to," he trailed off laughing that smug little laugh of his and continued, "I'll tell you what, the next time I attack you with my kindness, I'll warn you, deal?"

I am beyond embarrased at this point I could just crawl under my dashboard and die.

“Deal,” I managed, feeling my cheeks heat up. “But just so you know, I don’t respond well to... uh, unannounced niceness.”

He gave me this look, half-smile and half something I couldn’t read. “Duly noted,” he said, and his voice was softer than usual like he really meant it.

We drove in silence for a minute, which was worse than the conversation. I could feel the way his presence filled the car like he was everywhere and nowhere at once. And, as if he could sense I was desperately overthinking, he shifted in his seat, brushing a hand through his hair and watching me out of the corner of his eye.

“You know, I don’t bite,” he said finally, that playful lilt back in his voice. “Unless you’re into that kind of thing.”

My mouth opened and closed, and I just shook my head in surrender.

"Nope, no. We are not going there."

"Suit yourself. Get it? Suit yourself. Cause you're-"

"Yeah, Neal, I got it."

The rest of the ride went about as normal as it could. A few jokes here, some awkward silence there, a dash of bickering. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't enjoy it a bit. Before we knew it (we were painfully aware), we had reached the motel.

"Neal, you get the bags, I'll go get us checked in."

"Wait, why am I on bag duty?"

"Because I'm the agent. You're my bitch tonight." Was that too much? sigh

"Wow. Understood. So it's just all or nothing with you," he said in a fake hurt voice, clutching his pearls. Every time he sensed I was nervous, he tried to ease the air. I loved that about him. Asshole.

I laughed to lift the tension and gave in to his fake protest, but he insisted that he'd got the bags. I walked into the "reception desk" which was just a countertop with an underpaid employee behind it. Everything about this place made me feel like I could be mugged any second. I was not getting a single positive vibe from this place and I could not wait to go back home.

I walked over to the poor kid behind that desk and explained our situation and asked for a room. On account of the odds being in my favor as always, we got the last available room at the motel to which the receptionist guided me with as little enthusiasm as possible. Neal followed, with both our overnight bags in his hands. The receptionist handed the key to me and left without so much as a word, just an apologetic look.

I put the key in the lock and unlocked the door to find what I can only describe as... confusing. Not one, two, or even three. Eight beds, crammed into that tiny ass room. What the fuck.

"Hey Neal, quick question, do you see-"

"Yeah, I see it, alright"

"Good, so I'm not crazy."

“So… eight beds,” he said, almost like he was trying the words out just to make sure they were real.

I shot him a look, half-laughing, half-horrified. “Eight beds,” I repeated, my brain short-circuiting in confusion.

We both just stood there, staring, as if maybe the beds would magically explain themselves. They didn’t. And since the charming guy at the front desk was about as helpful as a damp sponge, calling for answers was out. Which meant we were officially stuck here in what I could only describe as the weirdest stakeout setup in history.

“Well,” Neal said, tossing his bag onto the closest mattress with a casual shrug, “at least we won’t have to fight over space.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hold back a laugh. “You’re right; I don’t know how we’d survive otherwise.”

In the next beat, he’d grabbed one of the pillows and flung it at me, completely out of nowhere. It smacked me in the shoulder, and when I looked up, he was giving me that look—that smug, too-charming-for-his-own-good look that always left me just a little short of breath. “What?” he asked, feigning innocence. “Might as well make use of all these, right?”

“Oh, you’re asking for it,” I muttered, grabbing a pillow from a nearby bed and launching it back at him, fully prepared for war.

That kicked off what was, I’ll admit, a ridiculously fun half-hour of pillow forts and feigned ambushes across the bed maze. At some point, I found myself perched on one of the beds, trying to throw together some kind of barricade with a ridiculous amount of pillows while Neal “strategically” circled me with a smirk.

Then, because the universe hates me, there was a moment where he leaned in close, way closer than necessary to “take back” one of the pillows he’d flung. Suddenly, his face was right there, all blue eyes and easy confidence, and I froze, my heart doing this humiliating little flip. His hand brushed against mine as he reached for the pillow, and for a second, I couldn’t remember how breathing was supposed to work.

He moved in closer, his face dangerously close to mine, his eyes gazing right into mine, not faltering even for a second. His hand slowly reached for the pillow, but the rest of him stood there frozen, towering over me. I could hear his heartbeat just as loud as I could hear mine and my breath hitched, making me aware of the trance I was in.

He paused too, just looking at me with this amused expression that told me he’d noticed every single bit of my brain short-circuiting. Perfect. Just perfect. I could feel my face heating up, and I was about two seconds from combusting when he finally let out a soft chuckle, pulling away just in time to save what was left of my dignity.

“So…should I warn you the next time I invade your personal space?” he asked, clearly enjoying every second of my embarrassment.

I shot him the best death glare I could muster, though I knew I was blushing furiously. “Yes, actually. Please put it in writing. Triple signed.”

He laughed, plopping onto one of the beds across from me with that smug grin still plastered on his face. I tried to focus on the pillow fort, on anything but the fact that I’d just had a full-on breakdown over a single, stupidly close moment.

But of course, with my luck, just as things started to settle, the shrill beep of a radio crackled through the room, a reminder of why we were actually here. I sighed, letting reality pull me back, and Neal looked over at me, his playful expression fading into something more serious.

“Right. Stakeout,” he said, sounding only mildly disappointed.

“Yeah,” I replied, trying to steady my heartbeat. “Stakeout.”

We went about setting up our positions, his usual lightheartedness replaced by that sharp, focused energy he got whenever he was in “work mode.” But every now and then, his eyes would flicker back to me, a knowing smile lurking at the edges. And every time, I’d feel that stupid little flutter again, like maybe—just maybe—eight beds and a stakeout in the middle of nowhere wasn’t so bad after all.

[justmightyshadows]

Jaheira Confesses BG3 Fic Feb Day 3

This is my day 3 (I am not even trying to keep up). You can see the prompts here. This is #21 SFW . This is part one and part two is here.

This one is RATED T

I would say SFW but they're in a bath so you'll be filling in some blanks.

Thiramen - love(elvish)

The bath water was hot, steam whipped off the surface into the cold air of the night as you had the windows open to let in the sweet smell of fresh air along with a gentle breeze. You slide down until reaches just under your chin and lean back to wet the top of your scalp and hair. There is a stillness where the water surrounds your ears and leaves you floating almost inside its warm embrace. Jaheira approached you quietly, shedding her clothes and lowering herself opposite you. The small waves cause you to open your eyes and investigate.

You take in the woman before you - her silvery hair uncharacteristically without braids, her body is scarred and worn from battle as she sits with her arms atop the edge of the bath staring at you. “I thought you had already gone to bed, veluthe* (beautiful-elvish)” You say throwing out a compliment you are sure will get under her skin but instead of shooting you down she smiles “I would not be able to rest until I saw you. Not after the battle today.” You had just returned from saving Minsc. Jaheira had shed tears of relief once he was safe in camp but pushed you away once you had tried to comfort her. You had made your way to the bath and she, you figured, was fast asleep.

“A great day, why does the battle leave you so unsure as to stay awake?” You wonder if she is ready to talk about all of this, moving forward like this could cause her to become upset but there really isn’t much else to talk about. “Let me braid your hair for the night, come here.” She changes the subject so abruptly it takes you by surprise but soon you are swishing backwards towards her. You come to rest against her thighs as she kneels to get to the top of your hair. She takes her time cleaning, combing and braiding the long locks into a single braid that she rests gently on your shoulder. “I owe you thanks - for saving Minsc, for listening to a mad woman like me and for standing up to the Emperor. None of it was easy, or wise but I am grateful nonetheless.” She presses against you and leaves a kiss against your exposed shoulders the skin rising in goosebumps as she releases. “Are you getting soft on me High Harper?” You say leaning back to catch her face throw back for a full laugh. “I am trying to be serious for once and this is how you repay me. Next time I’ll let the deed go without thanks. Duly noted.” She sighs as you turn around. “You’re welcome, Jaheira. You know that I think you were worth all of the headaches.” You respond sensing her frustration. She stares at you - before she speaks again. “It is more than that, I do not say this lightly. We have more than just a friendly bond, it is something I have not felt in a long time.” Her arms wrap around your neck pulling you close and into the water, warming you. “Tell me now if you do not feel the same but I believe you do. We have shared a bed, a blade and now a journey. I want you by my side whatever comes next, I don’t want the regret of waiting for the right time, whatever that means.” She leans in without waiting for your reply pressing her lips against yours and gently biting against your bottom lip, when she releases you whimper slightly and place your hands around her gently. “Is this is your way of saying you love me?”

She glares and pulls you forward by the hips - splashing water over the sides of the bath “If I have to spell it out for you then yes - I love you.” Her eyes are fierce and expectant “I love you too Jaheira” you respond. She stands - the water sliding down her body as she exits the bath.

“Good, I would look rather foolish if you had said no. Now come, we can pour affection on each other in the bed. I’m getting even more wrinkles sitting in the bath for so long.” She towels off in front of you, slowly caressing each spot before she heads into the bedroom without looking back at you.

Pt 2 will be NSFW Prompt #10 ;)

[jinxquickfoot]

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms

Find the fic on Ao3

“Sir? The hotel staff have a message for you.”

“Isn’t that what I built you for, JARVIS? To listen to useless messages so that I don’t have to?”

“The message was left by Cadet Staff Sergeant Rhodes, Sir.”

“Oh, he’s been promoted already, has he? Did I get him a congratulations gift?”

“I picked out something I felt was appropriate.”

“And what did he say?”

“Thank you, JARVIS. You have good taste.”

Tony collapses back on the hotel bed, working his tie loose and throwing it to the ground. He wants the suit off too, wants to bury his head under the power shower and drown himself, but moving feels like entirely too much effort. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” He wrinkles his forehead, trying to remember. “Was there a ceremony or something?”

There’s a delicate pause. “Yes, Sir. You were unconscious from intoxication and therefore stayed home.”

You’re so selfish, Tony. Everything is always about you.

“That also sounds correct.” Tony stares at the brand new bottle of top-shelf whiskey that’s filling the role of his plus-one to the Malibu Beach Inn. He’d slipped past the paparazzi crowding his front door demanding a statement, fully intent on stashing himself away without a word. “How does Rhodey even know I’m here?”

“I alerted him, given your current state.”

“There’s no state. I just wanted some peace and quiet, is that so much for a man to ask for?”

I asked for one thing. One night. But as always, you put the spotlight on you.

Tony reaches for the whiskey bottle.

“Shall I play the message?”

“Just think of an appropriate reply, J. That’s the whole reason you exist.”

“I would like to think I exist to ensure your well-being, Sir. Cadet Staff Sergeant Rhodes has called hotel reception several times asking if he should fly in to visit you.”

Tony freezes with his hand on the bottle lid.

I’m always bending over backward for you. I’ve never seen you even try to do that for me,

I’m sorry, Ty.

“Tell him he’s overreacting, he’s not my babysitter, and that I am fine. It’s just a break-up, relax about it.”

“If I may—sixteen months is considered a long relationship for someone in their late teens. It is an appropriate reaction to be distressed.”

No wonder no one else puts up with you. I can’t believe I stuck it out for this long.

I’ll try harder.

I wish I believed that, Tony.

Tony cracks open the bottle.

“Sir, if I may—”

“JARVIS, set a reminder for the morning for me to build you a mute button.”

“Duly noted,” JARVIS replies, and Tony is sure he isn’t imagining the disapproval in the AI’s voice. That’s new. “For now, I’ve had the liberty of having room service sent to your door.”

“You—what? When did I program you to do that?”

“You programmed me to be self-learning, in order to cater to and anticipate your needs.”

There’s a knock at the door.

“For god’s sake,” Tony mutters, burying his face in his hands. He doesn’t want to think about what he might look like—red-eyed with tousled hair, like he’s some little kid and not a full-grown adult who had just completed their second Master's degree.

Jesus, don’t cry about it. You’re the one who made me look bad.

I’m sorry I didn’t come to the party, Ty. I just—

What? Had better things to do?

“The room service attendant has departed. If you would please open the door, Sir—the delivery is rather time-sensitive.”

“What, did you deliver me a bomb? Do I look that much like I want to blow myself up?”

“I do not find those sorts of remarks amusing, Sir.”

Your friends hate me, Ty. They make it clear they don’t want me around.

Don’t be stupid. It’s not their fault you can’t take a joke.

Tony bangs the bottle back on the bedside table, forcing his body into action. He checks the peephole first, making sure the corridor doesn’t contain some front page chaser ready with a camera. When he’s sure the coast is clear, he cracks the door open and hastily swipes the small silver dish that’s been deposited on the carpet.

It’s not working, Tony. I’m sick of making all the effort. None of the other post-grads wanted to hang out with some kid, but I took a chance on you. I took you to parties, I introduced you to my friends. I did so much for you.

I said I was sorry—

Sorry that you’re losing your one meal ticket to a normal relationship. I’m done, Tony. We’re done. I don’t need you hanging around, always wanting more. It’s exhausting and it’s pathetic. I don’t know what I saw in you in the first place.

“JARVIS? What the hell am I looking at right now?”

“According to several sources I located, ice cream is the most appropriate food to consume while dealing with heartbreak.”

Tony slams and locks the hotel room door, still staring at the bowl. “You ordered me ice cream.”

“Yes, Sir. While eating to deal with unpleasant emotions is not recommended on a regular basis, I do believe in this instance it is preferable to consuming a dangerous portion of liquor.”

Tony is suddenly all too aware of the bottle that’s been calling his name since he isolated himself. “I’m allowed to have a drink.”

“Technically, you will not be allowed to drink alcohol for another two years, Sir.”

“Like that’s ever stopped me.”

Tony perches on the end of his bed, torn. “Several sources, huh? So girly magazines? What to do when Mr. Right goes sprinting for the hills?”

There’s a moment before JARVIS speaks, as though he’s weighing his words. This is definitely not in the original programming, and Tony resolves to take a look at what the hell kind of self-learning code he’s built in the morning. Or, late afternoon. Or evening. He feels like he could sleep for a month. “If I may be forward,” JARVIS says finally. “I have measured what I could observe of Tiberius Stone’s behavior during your relationship and compared it to multiple academic publishings on the signs of healthy dating habits. I have to say, I highly doubt he was your ‘Mr. Right', Sir.”

Tony watches a pool of melted ice cream start to form at the bottom of the bowl. “It’s not as though I’m ever going to find anyone better.”

“That too, I highly doubt. Please note that, if you do decide to drink past the recommended alcohol intake tonight, I have the hotel paramedic’s number on standby.”

“This place really does think of everything, huh?” Tony picks up the spoon, dipping it into the first scoop of ice cream. “You got quite the selection.”

“Apologies, Sir, but your favorite flavor is not on file.”

Tony swallows past an unexpected lump in his throat. He can’t remember the last time someone asked him his favorite anything. It was always Ty’s music, Ty’s foods, Ty’s friends. “Chocolate,” he whispers. “It’s chocolate.”

“I have recorded that information.”

Tony clears his throat. “Thanks.”

“This is my purpose, Sir.”

“Right.” Because this isn’t a real person giving a damn whether Tony drinks himself into a coma or not. It’s not actually Edwin Jarvis, pulling him away from his dad’s drunken shouting and taking him for a long drive where Tony could play any music he liked. And Tony’s aware that it’s pathetic that he’s had to build someone to be around him, because no human except Rhodey seems to want the job, and no way is Tony calling him away from the Air Force Academy for something as stupid and self-centered as this.

Well, at least he knows JARVIS isn’t going to leave. He’s an AI, his code completely in Tony’s control. He’s doing this because he was programmed to.

The TV screen flickers to life, making Tony jump. “Apologies, Sir. I have also read that favorite movies can be a helpful activity during this time. I see the hotel has some of the classic Captain America films on file?”

Tony recalls being five years old, curled up under a blanket, watching Captain America beat down the Nazis. They were the only films his dad wouldn’t yell at him for wasting time watching. “They got the one where Cap finds the time machine?”

“Captain America’s Roaring Twenties Adventure. An excellent choice, Sir.”

The black and white credits start, the corny, upbeat theme filling the otherwise too-big room. Tony settles back against the headboard, balancing the ice cream in his lap. He’d save the whiskey for another day. “Thanks, JARVIS.”

“Anytime, Sir. It is what I was made for.”

Knowing this day was coming doesn’t make it any easier.

This has to stop, Tony. And you’ve proven to me that this is the only way.

He still keeps a bed ready in the Compound. Pepper had offered to move out, but Tony had turned her down. She could keep the house. She could keep whatever she wanted. He’d leave.

This doesn’t change how I feel about you, Tony. But I can’t live like this. It’s too much.

No one has questioned why Tony has barricaded himself in his room at the Compound, and Tony doesn’t blame them. The team is busy, both with training, taking on old and new threats, and with their own lives. Over the past year, Tony has talked to them less and less, if at all. Wanda doesn’t trust him. He barely even knows where Sam Wilson appeared from. And something has fractured between him and Steve after Ultron, something neither of them have been willing to acknowledge, let alone fix.

Only Rhodey knows the truth, and Tony had implored him not to tell the rest of the team. He and Pepper had agreed to keep it out of the papers, too. After the mess of Sokovia—his fault—the last thing the Avengers need is more bad press.

Which is why he’s alone in his room with a whiskey bottle when Vision phases through the door, a small box in his hands.

Tony startles, almost just managing to keep himself from spilling his drink. “Geez, Vis, give a guy some warning.”

Vision looks back at the door as though he’s only just remembered it’s there. “Right. Knocking.”

“Yeah. Knocking.” Tony sits straighter in bed, suddenly all too aware that the bottle is already a quarter empty. “We got a mission or something?”

“Not a mission, no. I’m just here to check on you.”

“To what?”

“To check on you,” Vision repeats, sending a pointed look at the bottle. “It’s 10 am, Tony.”

“Yeah, well it’s been rough… all the hours before that.” He sighs, flopping back against the bed. “I really just want to be alone, Vis. No offense.”

“None taken. I just wanted to offer my condolences regarding you and Pepper.”

“How did you—”

“I overheard a conversation between her and Rhodey. Completely by accident—no one else knows.”

“Good. Keep it that way.” Tony eyes the box. “Is that something I should be worried about?”

“Not at all.” Vision holds the box out.

Tony has to put the bottle down to take it. It’s oddly cold, as though it’s been in a freezer recently. “Please don’t tell me this is another body part I’m expected to sew back on, because that was one time and I am not doing it again even if—’’

He breaks off when he opens the lid.

“I do hope I’m not overstepping,” Vision says. “But as I recall, we once agreed ice cream was the preferable break-up comfort over alcohol.”

Tony stares down at the tub. “Chocolate?”

“Of course.”

“That’s…” Tony swallows, hard. “You remembered that?”

“A part of me, yes. Accessing those memories is… odd. Almost like recalling a dream. But I’ve scanned enough of them to pull out the important parts.”

Tony clears his throat. “Might want to reconsider what is deemed important there, Vis.”

“No, I don’t think I do.” Vision takes another step into the room. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Tony shrugs. “Not sure there’s much to talk about. I promised I’d hang up the suit and give Pepper a normal life. I broke that promise. Pepper left. The end.”

“I’m very sorry,” Vision says softly. “It must be hard to try and balance this life with romantic relationships.”

“Maybe. Not like anyone on this team has a successful love life. Unless you count Barton, of all people.” He looks up just in time to catch something in Vision’s expression. “What?”

“A passing thought,” Vision replies, a little too quickly. “And perhaps not the right discussion topic for this moment.”

“Yes, let’s not talk love lives right now. Unless you have anything to share, in which case—”

“I do not.” Vision looks towards the mounted television, changing the subject. “Perhaps you would like to watch a movie? Captain America’s Roaring Twenties Adventure, if I remember correctly?”

Despite the aching chasm Pepper’s absence has left, Tony feels his lips twitch. “There’s no way I could watch that in this building without Romanoff somehow finding out about it.”

“And that would be bad?”

“Sometimes I forget you were created post-Tower days. Yes, she would never let me hear the end of it.”

“I understand. Perhaps a sitcom? Wanda has introduced me to some excellent ones.”

Tony’s fingers are turning numb against the cold box, but he doesn’t mind. “You wouldn’t rather be watching funnies with her?”

Vision hesitates. “If you would like me to leave, I will. I didn’t mean to intrude.” Still, his eyes linger on the whiskey bottle.

Tony reaches for it, screwing the cap back on and rolling it under the bed, out of sight. “Show me what our resident Sabrina has been teaching you, then.”

Vision instructs FRIDAY to put on something Tony is sure was old before he was even born, but he doesn’t protest. The black and white images fill the screen, FRIDAY automatically dimming the lights.

They’re two episodes in before Tony mutters, “Thanks. I know… well, I know you’re not JARVIS. You don’t have to do this.”

“No, I’m not, and I don’t. But the best part about being here, about being me, is that I get to choose to do whatever I want, and whoever I want to do it with. I hope it’s helping.”

Tony’s world is still imploding as he pictures a morning when he wakes up without Pepper at his side. But it’s feeling a modicum less hopeless. “Yeah. It is."

[kariachi]

A commission for @gr3y-etiola, 1.8k words of birthday fic for their OC Nova.

Parties, they do, in fact, exist.

~~

Though it pained him, he had to admit that he had no real clue what he was doing. Birthdays back on Petropia, or at least where he’d grown up, had been simple affairs. Your favorite dinner and a string of beads for long life. Or good health. Or many successes. It’d been a very long time since he’d had it first explained to him, and a slightly less very long time since he’d worn any, so he couldn’t quite remember. Still, birthdays had been small, quiet affairs, with only really the beads differentiating them from your normal day. They were a long-lived species, so it made sense, there were only so many birthdays you could have before the imperfections started showing.

But Nova, Nova had lamented not having had a ‘proper birthday’ in years, and there were few things Tetrax wouldn’t do for her happiness. Including, it turned out, scouring the internet to try to figure out what a ‘proper’ birthday party even was for humans. He knew several, he could ask, he knew, but the ones he could trust to give him good information and not try to take over the planning were busy enough that he felt bad doing so. Excepting Kevin, who’d only been able to shrug and point out that he’d never had one himself so what did he know.

So. Internet it was. Not the most concise or reliable source of information, but one did what one must.

The Wikipedia page was less helpful than he’d hoped it would be, the topic just a single small section on a larger page about parties in general, but he took what he could from it. Followed a link to information on birthday cake and wrote down what information on proper cake protocol there was, as well as shelved things like ‘gift opening event’ and ‘goodie bags’, neither of which he’d had cause to hear of in this context, as things noted as being for ‘children’s’ parties. ‘Decorations’ got double underlined, and the protocol around surprise parties was duly noted. Then he made sure to read through the entire party page, just in case.

For everything else, he was forced to turn to the pure internet wilderness.

There was a lot out there, half of it useless. Tetrax had to assume that the general consensus was that anyone who didn’t know how to throw a good birthday party must be a moron, otherwise why would five different sites tell him to make sure he issued invitations prior to the event. That was just common sense. He wanted to know things like cultural norms, what was expected of him, but no. Nobody could be so kind. Instead, he got generic suggestions like ‘choose a location’ and ‘pick a theme of some sort’.

At least ‘pick a theme’ was something, and there were some sites offering ideas for activities to keep guests happy and the like. A place to start if nothing else. ‘Themed potluck’ caught his eye, just because then he wouldn’t have to worry about food, only to be shelved as he remembered who all he was intending to invite. ‘Costume party’ required dropping the whole ‘surprise’ plan, so that was out. A ‘crafts day’ sounded interesting, but he had no idea where to even start… In the end he set to writing down every idea he could find that sounded interesting and fitting and, after glaring at said list for an embarrassing amount of time, settled on a ‘sweet and spicy’ theme. A selection of all the spicy foods Nova loved for dinner, an ice cream bar afterwards, and as soon as he saw the words ‘ice cream cake’ he knew that, at least, was set. Some of her favorite music and access to videogames from across the galaxy and, hopefully it would all work out.

Hopefully.

Decorations, meanwhile, were kind’ve easier. There turned out to be whole websites dedicated to party decorations on Earth, and he knew the colors she liked, that you couldn’t go wrong with shiny, and what sort’ve themes he was working towards. Picking a site that had a store nearby he could pick everything up from, he went through and grabbed nearly everything birthday-oriented in bright colors like pink, and shiny gold metallics. Even a banner with ‘Happy Birthday’ right across it, which he had to assume existed for a reason and so rolled with. The banner, streamers, balloons, disposable plates and utensils, the whole lot. On his way home, then, he’d gone to the store to grab invitations and the supplies he would need for what dishes he would make instead of order, what little there were, along with putting in an order for an ice cream cake with more balloons and Nova’s names scrawled across it in more metallics.

And, that was it. Invitations went out, orders were placed, and there was nothing to do but put up the decorations, rearrange his home to fit everybody, and get the dishes he was making together. All things that would have to wait for the day of to happen.

The worry of having messed up something so important for someone so beloved curling in the back of his brain, there was nothing left for him to do but wait…

~~

The party wasn’t held on Nova’s actual birthday, mostly because Tetrax couldn’t figure out how he could make sure she wouldn’t catch on to the plan if people were suddenly unavailable and wanting her to show up somewhere specific on the day. Plus, he already had it and the day before off and the fact had gotten ideas moving in his head. So, he’d claimed to have errands to run the day prior, but that he would be more than happy to grab dinner with her, and they could meet up at his place at about four. Barring an emergency, he knew he could expect her to be right on time, and without the special occasion ongoing hopefully without any idea of what he had waiting for her.

She never disappointed.

There were few among the guests who didn’t know better than to truly shock any among their number, and so the home stayed quiet for a long second upon her entrance. Just until they knew Nova’d been able to take in the decorations and their presence. Even then, there were no loud cries of ‘Happy Birthday’ as Tetrax had steeled himself for, merely glasses raised, Rook going all out on a noisemaker, and Kevin teasingly chiding her for being “thirty-five seconds late- we were about to dig into the cake without you”. Trembling- it was the only word- with emotion and with a massive grin spreading across her face, Nova snatched a party favor off one of the tables and harmlessly threw it at him.

Tetrax stepped forward as the two laughed and blew raspberries at each other, holding out an arm in invitation. Immediately Nova latched onto him in a vicious hug, and all his worries about the day and the plan melted away as he curled around her.

“Happy birthday,” he muttered into her hair as a few of the guests ‘aww’ed. She chuckled and managed to press herself in closer.

“Not till tomorrow.”

“The internet assured me this counts.”

“Oh, did it now?”

“Yes.” With a brief squeeze he draped a string of wooden beads around her neck, maneuvering her off towards the actual party. “Go greet your guests.” Still laughing, eyes bright and smile wider than ever, she gave him a shove. Didn’t stop her from doing as asked though, wading into the mass of well wishes, hugs, friendly teasing, and ruffled hair, as Tetrax went to get the music started, signaling the official start of the event.

It all went rather well in his opinion, though his experience with such things was minimal at best. The main rooms were filled with chatter that easily gave way to challenges of people’s gaming skill and a solid hour of the most haphazardly arranged Gorgeous Lunar Heroine tournament in the history of the Earth. They didn’t get a victor, of course, or even to the finals, slowed down by playful claims of cheating from all and sundry and mostly aimed at Kevin and at Albedo- who played only under duress and so shouldn’t have gotten so far they would all swear. Even so, it provided plenty of entertainment for players and audience both. Enough that hardly anyone had paid mind when Tetrax had maybe-maybe-not thrown his second match, giving himself the perfect opening to go make sure dinner would be all set when the clock started edging towards six.

Most of the food was still served at room temperature, but he’d planned for that. A wide array of spicy dishes like chicken wings, a BBQ pork belly he’d had delivered earlier that day, and stuffed hot peppers, plus some things like store-bought rolls and salads to allow for a break from the heat. It’d actually been the most work he’d ended up putting into the whole party, in the end, figuring out and getting the menu. All worth it though to have Nova beam at him, jump up to press a quick kiss to his cheek, and then spend the meal curled at his side eating like she would never see a spread like this again in her life. He spent that time curled around her again, careful to support his own great weight against the back of the couch as he did, appetite gone enough from the work and stress he’d put in that he only truly bothered with items she offered or fed him directly.

Yes, he could see several people burning to tease him over it, but he didn’t rightly care and they managed to keep their mouths shut. At least until the topic of dessert had come up. Tetrax may, just may, have gone a bit overboard and bought as wide a variety of ice cream flavors and toppings as he could find. Maybe. And maybe he should’ve questioned if he was going too far once the ‘unicorn sparkle’ flavor went into the cart, or at least given a proper look at the bag of sprinkles that, it turned out, were in the shape of little eyes. But that didn’t mean Julie had to lovingly tease him about cannibalism, no matter how his heart had fluttered when Nova had thrown a mini reese’s at her in defense of his honor.

Everyone’d had fun throwing their own desserts together though, and while the presenting of the cake and blowing out of the candles would turn out to be an unfathomable disaster, that was all on the Birthday Girl and the Omnitrix, so he could still count it as a win for himself.

Hours later, when a victor had been declared in the tournament, the food was all put away or forced on people as they slipped out the door, and all the guests cleared out of his home, Tetrax allowed himself to fully relax for the first time in what felt like an age, draped across his couch. He made a pleased murmuring sound in his throat as Nova settled in over top of him, draping his arms around her.

“Thank you,” she said, pleasant exhaustion clear in her voice and beads clicking together under her fingers. “I love the necklace, and I haven’t had a proper party since like, early high school. Really appreciate it.”

“It was no trouble,” he said, a half-truth. “It’s the least you deserve.” With a chuckle, she settled in more firmly, about melting into him with a smirk that said she didn’t buy it, but loved him all the more for it still.

“Still,” she said, pressing a soft, quick kiss to him, “thank you.” Tetrax hummed his contentment, grip tightening just barely.

“You’re welcome.”

[jungshookz]

teeny tidbits: emma comes home past curfew & y/n's not happy about it

➺ genre; kindergartenteacher!taehyungiverse!! honk honk humour!! sixteen year old emma reminds y/n of herself and she doesn't know if that's a bad thing or a good thing

➺ wordcount; 1.5k

➺ p.s. this takes place far faR off into the future!! i just thought it'd be nice to see emma as a spunky teenager :'))

(unfortunately i wasn’t able to track down the original maker of this gif but this is where i sourced it from! all credits go to the original creator of course :-))

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

the sound of the front door rattling at four in the morning would usually be something that would terrify pretty much anybody, but for you-

"oh, come on!"

it's really just another day in the life.

"em's home," taehyung reaches over slowly to pat your stomach and wake you up (as if you haven't been up waiting for the past four hours), his voice laced with sleep as he rolls to the side, "i'll go open the-"

"nope." you reach over to turn the lamp on before flicking the covers off and stepping out of bed, adjusting the strap of your tank top before pointing a finger at taehyung, "you're not opening anything."

"okay, well-" taehyung pauses before propping himself up a little to frown at you, "wait, what?"

"you know, i cannot believe her-" you snap, pulling your hair up into a bun as you hurry over to the window, "it's like she likes to be grounded! i told her she could go out with her friends as long as she came back before curfew, but no-"

"well, it's not that late, is it?" taehyung tosses the pillow he's hugging to his chest aside before turning to look at the clock sitting on his bedside table, "it's only- oh. it's 4:18."

you unlock the latch on the window before digging your fingers underneath it and pulling it up with a snap, watching as emma rushes out from the front porch at the sudden noise

"why, good morning, miss kim!" you call out, leaning down against the edge of the open window with a bright smile, "now i can rest well knowing you weren't murdered tonight."

"the door's broken or something!" emma strategically ignores your snarky comment, placing a hand on her hip before sticking her hand up in the air to flash you her keys with a jingle, "my keys aren't working!"

"oh, your keys are fine, sweetheart." you let out a sigh before scrunching your nose, "i triple-locked the doors. better to be safe than to be sorry, right?"

"okay, well-" emma pauses, scratching the back of her neck before gesturing towards the door, "are you gonna open the door for me or what? i really have to pee-"

"you could always take a squat and pee in the bushes." you point out, emma's jaw dropping slightly before she lets out a scoff

"are you serious? i'm not taking a piss in the bushes-"

"well, i guess you should've thought of that before coming home four hours past curfew!" your tone changes as soon as you get to the point and even from here you're able to make out the slight twitch of panic that runs through emma's body

"don't be ridiculous, i'm not four hours past curfew-" emma grumbles, turning to pull her phone out of her purse and glancing at it before pausing for a second and then looking back up at you, "i'm... four hours and twenty minutes past curfew. so take that!"

"you know, i was just being nice and i rounded down, but if you wanna say you were four hours and twenty minutes late, we can definitely say you were four hours and twenty minutes late-"

"mom!" emma whines, stomping her foot down on the ground as she shoves her phone back into her (your!!) purse hastily, "you can't just- are you seriously not going to let me into the house?! you're gonna make me sleep out on the front porch?! i can't- what if the coyotes get me?! if the coyotes get me, you're gonna regret this decision so bad-"

"the only thing that's going to attack you in this neighbourhood are the little girl scouts who won't leave you alone until you buy, like, ten boxes of cookies from them-"

"i'm sixteen, mother!" emma cuts you off with another whine and you can't help but roll your eyes at the sight of your daughter throwing a tantrum on the front lawn, "i'm grown! i should be allowed to go out with my friends and come home whenever i want!"

you thought you were 'grown' at sixteen too

(spoiler alert: that was not the case at all.)

obviously you love your daughter more than anything in the world but you hate that she inherited one of the traits that you're not fond too of: your stubbornness

and look, of course you know that she's getting older and that she should be allowed to go and have (safe) fun with her friends but this isn't the first time she's broken the rules and knowing her, it certainly won't be the last time

and it doesn't help that taehyung always gets to play good cop and you have to be the bad one!!!

like last time when the two of you caught emma climbing into the house through one of the windows and she ended up getting stuck - instead of reprimanding her for coming home late again, taehyung just laughed and immediately went over to help her out

sure, the sight of your daughter flailing around trapped in a small window was hilarious, but someone had to be the serious one in the situation (1) she lied to you about just having a chill night with her friends because you're pretty sure a chill night doesn't involve body glitter and the faint smell of vodka on her breath! 2) she climbed up the side of the house like a maniac and could've gotten seriously injured????) and of course the responsibility to do that fell onto your lap

taehyung's also just not very good at disciplining which is why you usually gently push him aside and take the lead and it looks like it's time for you to turn on your i'm not mad, i'm just very disappointed in you act once again

"you're going to wake your brother up if you keep screaming like that, and you know how fussy he gets when he doesn't get a good night's sleep-"

"he's the world's sleepiest baby, i could blow up fireworks in his room and he'd be fine- dad!" emma's eyes immediately light up when a sleepy taehyung suddenly pops up next to you and you raise a brow when he nudges you aside gently, "oh my god, thank god- mom's literally being insane right now, you have to let me in-"

"what time did you say you'd be home?" taehyung interrupts, "because i think we agreed on midnight when i dropped you off at hope's apartment..."

"i-" emma presses her lips together before letting out a little scoff and rolling her eyes, "okay, yes, we- i said i would be home by midnight, yes." she sighs before suddenly perking up again, "it's not my fault, though! no one goes home before midnight, it's so lame- hope's dad lets her stay out as long as she texts-"

"ah, texts! let's talk about that! didn't you say you'd text us to let us know where you were if you weren't home by midnight?" taehyung points out, crossing his arms over his chest before reaching up to stroke at his chin to feign deep thought, "because my phone hasn't gone off all night... has yours, darling?" he hums, turning to glance at you

"nope!" you chime in with a helpless little shrug and you nearly crack a smile when you see emma reach up to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration, "my phone has been dead silent. no texts. not even an emoji!"

"you hear that, emma? not even an emoji." taehyung tsks, shaking his head in disappointment, "you know what this means, don't you?"

"i'm grounded for two weeks, i know-"

"two weeks?? oh, you're grounded for a month." taehyung pauses for a second before looking down at her again, "and! and you have to change all of your brother's diapers the whole time you're grounded. also, i just want to let you know that he had sweet potatoes for dinner and you know how gassy he gets after a helping of sweet potatoes-"

"a month?!" emma roars and your eye twitches at how high her voice goes, "you can't ground me for a month, lucas is throwing this huge party next weekend and i have to be there! are you kidding m-"

taehyung slides the window back down before emma gets to say anything else and he turns to face you with a grin before opening his arms slightly, "well?? what did you think??"

"i think... that was probably one of the sexiest things you've ever done for me." you laugh lightly, happily giving him a quick kiss when he leans in for one

"duly noted." taehyung beams before letting out a quick sigh and then turning on his heels to head to the door, "okay, i'm going to go let our daughter into the house now because i don't think my hydrangeas are going to survive being peed on-"

🎙️give emma some diaper changing tips (talk to my characters/send in a message!)

✨why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here? (full fics!)

💫or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles! mini series!)

🌟or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits like this one!)

[the-queen-of-hell-666]

Steve’s Little Sister Is Off-Limits

Pairing: Post-Winter Soldier!Bucky Barnes x Rogers!Reader

Words: 1000+

Summary: The Reader is in a secret relationship with Bucky, but one day Steve walks in on them.

Warnings: explicit sexual content (vaginal sex, unprotected sex) That’s really about it. But it’s still smut. SMUT!!!! 18+

A/N: I enjoyed writing this a lot, because I thought it was an interesting concept. There is fluff scattered throughout the whole fic. Like a lot of fluff. Tooth-rotting fluff, well because it’s Bucky. I hope you enjoy this fic. 

Y/n Rogers is Steve Rogers younger sister. She is only two years younger than him, but still he is very protective over her. So when the two go into the ice, then wake up 70 years later. He is more protective than ever. Sometimes it’s nice, but when she has a secret relationship with his best friend it gets annoying.

Now Y/n is in the kitchen, cooking breakfast for the team. When she feels two arms wrap around her waist, then she feels a pair of lips on her neck. She leans into her boyfriend’s touch. “Buck, not right now. Steve could walk in any minute.” Y/n whines, and turns around in Bucky’s arms. He quickly steals a kiss then sits on one of the bar stools. 

“I just can’t help it, doll. You look so hot in those silk shorts.” Bucky says, and she turns around and he practically drools at the sight of her ass. She lightly chuckles as she feels his gaze on her. She continues to cook Breakfast, as the team files into the kitchen. She knows that this makes Bucky nervous being around other people, because he feels guilty. When he was the winter soldier he tried to kill almost all of them. Except everyone forgave him, but he hasn’t forgiven himself yet. So Y/n helps him ground himself by either letting him braid her hair or having him touch her in some way. The team sits at the large table in the dining room.

Sam, Steve, Natasha, Wanda, and Vision sit on the right side of the table. Clint, Pepper, Morgan, Bucky, and Y/n sit on the left side of the table. Tony and Rhodes sit at each end of the table. Y/n sets the food on the table for people to take as they please. She sits next to Bucky, and she can see in his face that he’s trying not to bolt out of the room. She subtly links her pinky with his. She gently rubs the back of his hand with her thumb. He looks over at her and slightly smiles at her. When Breakfast is over it’s Steve’s turn to wash the dishes. So Bucky and Y/n sneak off to her room. They only do dirty stuff together when Steve is on a mission or caught up in stuff, so that he won’t notice they’re gone.

As soon as the lift doors close, Bucky has her pinned against the metal wall of the small lift room. He kisses her and she kisses back. He kisses down her neck, leaving little red marks, nothing that will leave hickeys. The doors open and she pulls him to her room down the hall. Y/n quickly opens the door and pulls Bucky in. He kicks the door shut, as she pulls him to the bed. He falls back onto the bed, and she climbs on top of him. She grinds on his already hard member, while he kisses her passionately. She leans up and pulls off her Y/f/c hoodie, leaving her nude from the waist up because she didn’t put a bra on. Bucky looks up and groans at the sight of her bare breasts. He scooted up to the head of the bed, with her still on his lap. He sits up and takes both of her breasts in each hand, and he rubs and pinches her nipples. He watches her face shift into a look of pleasure. She moans and grinds on his lap, without knowing it. He lets go of her nipples, and Y/n rips his shirt over his head. She throws it over her shoulder, before smashing her lips to his. They pull away and he looks into her eyes.

“It’s been so long, doll. Since we’ve done anything like this.” Bucky says, rubbing his hands up and down her hips.

“I know, Buck. Now it’s just me and you.” Y/n whispers, and kisses down his jaw to his neck. She sucks and nips at his neck, definitely leaving hickeys.

“No, visible hickeys, babygirl.” He says, and she smirks against his skin.

“That rule applies to you, not me. Steve doesn’t care if you get a hickey. He only cares if I have one.” She states, and he lightly chuckles.

“You remember back in the 30’s, I accidentally left a dark purple hickey under your jaw?” Bucky asks, as she leaves a hickey on his pulse point.

“Yeah. I remember. Steve wanted to rip the guy who did that to me to shreds.” Y/n says, then he rips off her shorts.

“Enough talk about your brother. Let me show you how much I missed you.” He whispers seductively, she smirks and helps him take off his sweatpants and boxers. He rips off her panties with his metal hand, he runs a metal finger up and down her wet folds. She gasps at the cool sensation. She reaches down and lined him up with her entrance, then starts sinking down on his cock. They both moans at the sensation of being connected. “Oh… doll. You’re so tight.” He groans, and thrusts up into her. Her mouth hangs open and her eyes closed in pleasure. Y/n composes herself then starts moving her hips up and down. Bucky’s hands clamp down on her hip as she rides him slow and hard. They are so lost in each other, that they don’t hear the door open until a voice makes them freeze.

“Hey, Y/n/n. I was wondering-” Steve starts to say, as he walks through Y/n’s door. The scene in front of him makes him freeze in place. His little sister on top of a man, he couldn’t see who it is but he knows they’re having sex. He quickly runs out and closes the door behind him.

As the door closes, Y/n and Bucky sit there for a minute with his cock still in her. She quickly comes back to reality, and she jumps off of him. She grabs her panties and slips them on then her shorts, as Bucky pulls on his boxers and shirt. She puts her hoodie back on and he puts on his sweatpants. Y/n paces the room as Bucky sits on the edge of the bed.

“Did Steve just walk in on us…” Y/n trails off, as she runs a hand through her Y/h/c hair.

“Yeah…” Bucky trails off, and slowly nods.

“Oh my god. He’s gonna kill you, then lock me away forever.” She groans, and covers her face with her hands. Bucky stands up and takes her hands into his.

“It’ll be fine. He’s a reasonable guy.” Bucky states, looking into her eyes.

“He punched that one guy who smacked my ass.” Y/n says.

“That guy was an ass.”

“He was my boyfriend.” She scoffs, and Bucky chuckles and kisses her on the forehead. “I’ll go up there first. He won’t touch me. You on the other hand, if he sees you, you’ll be dead before you hit the ground.” She states, and he nods.

“Alright. Just tell FRIDAY to send me up there. When you’re ready.” He explains.

“Okay.” She smiles, and he kisses her, before she leaves out the room.

Y/n takes the lift down to the main floor. She quietly steps out of the lift. She tiptoes down the hall on bare feet. She walks around the corner and sees Steve leaning on the counter with a beer in hand. She walks closer but stays a few feet away.

“Hey, Stevie.” Y/n says, and Steve looks up and spots her.

“Y/n.” He nods, and takes a sip of his beer.

“Can we talk?” She questions, and takes a seat on the barstool in front of the counter.

“About what?” He asks, still not meeting her eyes.

“You know what.”

“Who is he?” Steve questions, and Y/n’s eyes widen when she realizes he didn’t know.

“You didn’t see his face?”

“No. Why?” He asks, and finally looks at her. “Who is it, Y/n?”

“Before I tell you. You have to promise not to go after him.” Y/n says calmly.

“Okay. I promise.” Steve nods, and she takes a deep breath.

“It’s Bucky.” She says, and she watches Steve’s face waiting for something.

“I’m gonna kill him!” He exclaims, and runs towards the lift. She runs after him, and grabs him by the back of his shirt and drags him back to the lounge. She throws him on the couch.

“Steven Grant Rogers! You need to calm down right now! I am an adult! I’m not some little kid who needs to be protected from boys!” She exclaims, and he looks a bit taken back by her outburst.

“Y/n-” He starts to say, but she cuts him off.

“I am not done! Bucky is the best thing that has happened to me! You may think that our relationship is just sex! But it’s not! It’s so much more than that! I love him! I have been in love with him since the minute my eyes landed on him!” She exclaims, and then a voice behind her makes her freeze.

“You love me?” Bucky asks from behind her, and she freezes.

“You heard that?” Y/n questions, turning around slowly. Bucky stands a few feet away.

“Yeah. And just so you know I love you too.” He says, and a smile creeps across her face. She runs and hugs him. Steve stands up and clears his throat. The couple pulls away and faces Steve.

“If you two are happy. Then… I guess that’s fine with me.” Steve says, and Y/n hugs her brother, and pulls back with a bigger smile on her face.

“Thank you, Stevie.” She says, and Steve nods then turns to Bucky.

“You hurt her. I’ll kill you.” Steve threatens Bucky, and the brunette puts his hands up.

“Duly noted.” Bucky nods, and Steve shakes hands with him. Then walks down the hall.

“Next time, lock your door!” Steve yells, from down the hall. The couple hear the lift doors close, then Y/n jumps onto Bucky and kisses him passionately. He catches her by the backs of her thighs. She pulls back and runs her hands through his long locks.

“I love you, James.” Y/n whispers, and he smiles and leans into her touch.

“I love you, Y/n.” Bucky whispers, and leans back up to kiss her. “Should we finish what we started?” He questions, and she nods and he walks towards the lift, with her still on him.

[thefanficmonster]

I'm so happy you like the idea! Your first three words are: Rattle, Candlelight and Corset.

Oh this is gonna be interesting 🤭

Regretting

Pairing: Chris Redfield x Female OC (taken in by the Winters family as a daughter of theirs basically)

Warnings: Swearing (No Spoilers for any games don’t worry😊)

Genre: Romance, Fluff

Enjoy the mess my brain’s produced. Love, Vy ❤

“I have several questions surrounding this bullshit event!“ Gwen shouts from inside her room where she’s been getting ready for the past hour with the Captains of the BSAA keeping a watchful eye outside her door, making sure she doesn’t get any ideas of running away.

“I have as many as you do, trust me on that one.“ He replies, readjusting his tie. He hasn’t found himself in a three-piece-suit in a long time, all’s been soldier get-ups, bulletproof wests and combat boots. Truth be told, it’s not that he doesn’t want to dress nicely, he’s just rarely had any occasions worth dressing up for. Lord knows he’d be at home in this very moment, seated on the couch with a cold beer bottle in his hand. So to make the truth truer - he actively avoids places and events that would require him dressing up. It’s simply a hassle in and of itself, but dealing with the people at the even - that’s what he’s most bothered by.

“You cannot expect me to believe that’s the truth!“ Gwen shouts again, the sound of shuffling accompanying her voice. 

“Leon said it was important, Jill backed him up and you know I rarely get a say when the two of them partner up to support one another.“ Chris says, sighing while reaching for a cigarette before withdrawing his hand, remembering he didn’t take his pack with him on purpose. Claire says he needs to break the habit little by little so, in order to give her peace of mind, he does try whenever she’s looking. However, when she turns away, he’s quick to light a cig, almost as quick as a dying man getting connected to life support.

“You, Leon and I have very different definitions of the word ‘important’.“ She sasses back, her voice now being the only sound coming from the room which is a sign Chris cannot decide the meaning of - is she almost done? Is she starting over with everything? Either way, he doesn’t mind. Running late to the gala the mayor’s throwing is not particularly bothering him, he actually prefers it.

What’s been bothering him is the fact that he’s found himself impatient of something else. Impatient of seeing her - not that he’d ever admit it. Him and Gwen have been friends for quite some time. Well, they did get off on the wrong foot, but were quick to arrange a relationship alike a friendship and function without wanting to gauge each other’s eyes out. Somewhere along the lines they became actual friends without even noticing.

Gwen Winters had every right to be suspicious of Captain Chris Redfield. Not that she was always wary of him or anything - seeing as how him and her ‘parents’ are friends, she never thought twice about the guy. However, when she expressed interest in joining the BSAA and earned herself a scoff from him, she was rather pissed. Being the main chemistry project of an asshole with a saving-the-world complex back in Raccoon City, it’s safe to say she got some above average strength to her name. And that’s putting it mildly. Being rescued from that lab by Leon and getting taken in by the Winters family, she’s developed her own hero complex, the need to save those who can’t save themselves always dwelling within her.

And so, despite the amusement Chris showed when she brought up the idea, she became a BSAA soldier. 

“I think we established that on your very first mission, soldier.“ Chris chuckles, recalling that first mission he was so opposed to, mostly because Gwen was tagging along at her request and the allowance of Leon. He was very fucking afraid they’d have to carry her dead body out of there but the action was quick to turn the tables on him - having Gwen save his life more than once. What surprised him most though was her humbleness about it. She didn’t rub it in or nag him about having proved her point. She was just glad they had all made it out in one piece and that struck him with a whole new intensity. Almost like a wake up call.

The door beside him suddenly swings open, causing him to abruptly straighten up from his leaning position, shooting a look at the doorway from which emerges Gwen. Or at least he believes it’s her. Had he not known she was the only other person in the house at the moment, or had he seen her passing by on the street he wouldn’t have recognized her.

And he’d have every right not to: this must be the first time she has worn a dress since prom - if she even wore one then - and the same probably applies for the make-up she’s put on. It’s not much or anything, in fact the only reason he’s noticed it is because he’s so used to seeing her make-up-free face. So much so, he’d recognize even a drop of foundation if she applied it. And oh boy, is he whipped by the sight. He can lie all he wants and to whoever he wants to, but he cannot lie to himself. Especially not when his jaw has fallen to the floor, his eyes have grown wide and his heartbeat has picked up noticeably.

If Ethan could hear at least half of what Chris is thinking at the moment, he’d be as good as banned from the Winters home forever.

When Gwen’s eyes meet her Captain’s, she can’t help but smirk, “What is it, Cap? I exchange the bulletproof vest for a corset and you suddenly don’t recognize me?” She asks, raising a teasing eyebrow.

He knows it’s wrong, for so many reasons: He’s her captain, she’s his soldier; She’s an adult but he’s still significantly older than her; She’s the ‘daughter’ of a friend of his, to make matters even worse - It’s so wrong yet he can’t get the thought out of his head. It’s not just now, it’s something he’s been struggling with for quite some time. He’s constantly haunted by her: the sound of her laughter, her smile, that focused frown that appears every time she is looking at a map or a new case, analyzing its every detail, the twinkle in her eyes whenever she gets told she’ll be going on a mission and that same sparkle growing brighter when she returns from it having successfully completed it.

It’s all overwhelming, and in the nicest, wrongest way possible.

“Honestly, Winters, seeing such a shift does rattle a person. Especially when I haven’t seen you out of a soldier’s uniform for years now.“ He comments, his eyes traveling up and down her body on their own accord, despite his best attempts at keeping his gaze on her face.

She laughs, “Can’t really go to training in a dress and high heels, you know. If I had more opportunities, the dresses in my closet wouldn’t be covered in spiderwebs.“

“Duly noted.“ He smirks, offering the young lady his hand as he leads her down the stairs, “I could help you out with that.“

She frowns, pausing mid-step, “Oh no, no, no no. If what you have in mind is a bunch of charity events, you better get that thought out of your head. A bunch of rich assholes drinking champagne, really not my scene.”

Chris chuckles offering her his arm as they walk out the front door to where he parked his car upon arriving at the Winters home, running into Ethan, Mia and their five year old daughter, about to head out for the night. He won’t complain about the lecturing he received, he deserved it after all. It’s a miracle the two even agreed to let Gwen accompany him, not that they could stop her either way seeing as how she’s an adult woman who’s more than capable of making her own decisions.

“No, no, I know you hate those events. I do too.“ He says, oddly timidly as the two get seated in the car. “I was thinking more along the lines of...“ He contemplates how to say it without making the rest of this night awkward, or mess things up with Gwen in any way. She means a lot to him and he’d hate to lose her over his complicated feelings he wishes he could control. “Dinner under candlelight, maybe?“

He’s as stiff as a boulder, tense and expecting something, anything. Literally anything, even outright rejection would be better than silence. Regardless of her answer, he’s gonna regret this move later when Ethan hears about it and goes to kick his ass.

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches the slight shake of her head, a blush evidently appearing on her cheeks, visible even in the dim light in the car. A small smile graces he features as her hand travels to his which is nervously resting on the gear shift. “Sure, I’d like that.” She says, her smile growing wider.

There’s that same twinkle - the sparkle in the eyes of a soldier willing to fight for the greater good, putting everyone above herself. And, on his hierarchy, she’s number one.

“I’m glad.“

Chris Redfield has regretted many things in his life and will probably regret even more in the future. However, he was a fool to think he’d regret this decision - one look at Gwen’s eyes and all regret was erased. All ass-kicking he might receive for it seems more than worth it, looking at it from the perspective of this very moment.

Then again, Captain Chris Redfield has never been a stranger to a little ass-kicking.

Thank you so much, Anon for this super fun challenge! I hope to receive more three words to turn into fics cause I really enjoyed this experience 🥰

[chaoticneutralwriter]

The Calm

And it’s this quiet moment that you cherish the most.

guardian demon!jimin x reader

genre: supernatural, romance, angst, slow-burn, comedy, fluff

word count: 7.5k

related works: see Masterlist under guardian demon!jimin au

Continuation of: First Bite and A Small Death (M)

Warning: pillow talk so some suggestive content, but other wise fluffy and domestic af

A/N: AAAAAAAAAAAAAA HAPPY HOLIDAYS!🎄🎁☃️ AM I TOO LATE FOR AN UPDATE?? LOLL It’s not necessarily Christmas themed but I had anticipated I could get this done at least by then to post so...does this count as a present? dkshg I’m so sorry it took so long 😩 the last few weeks got me feeling in some type of funk where sometimes i wanna do something and other times it’s just ‘i know i gotta do this thing but...i don’t wanna’ so please excuse if there’s any typos i might’ve not caught and if the chapter seems very stop and go sdfkjshg Once again, thank you guys so so SO much for your endless love and support for this fic and for your endless patience! Stay safe, take care and have a restful week!

Tag list: @cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatina @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct @beautifulparisiangirl @taelieninvader @ggukjitaejin @xakemi-chiix @vantaenims @atulipandarose​ @moments-of-melancholy @xclo02 @cherub-kookie @gottadreamitallaway​ @indiesy​ @disn3yfreak @oerangdoongi

You feel yourself stirring back into consciousness, becoming more aware of the soft duvet covers that cocoon you. On an inhale, you pick up the smell of fresh linen with an undertone of warm peppermint and cedar. It's nice, soothing and you bury your nose further in it. But it's definitely not what your bed sheets smell like.

Slowly, your eyes flutter open, vision blurred from the deep slumber you were in and the dimness of the room until you blink to adjust yourself. Through the sliver of thin curtains, you see the still darkened night sky – an endless sea of midnight blue with only the faint golden glow of the city building lights dotting along its surface like makeshift stars. The moon is full tonight, shining brightly and casting its pale rays onto the floor and walls though occasionally, it shies away behind wispy clouds that drift by.

Growing more awake, you begin to notice other things besides the time of day, like how these microfibre sheets were especially soft against your body, caressing your skin as if you're wearing nothing at all.

....Oh, you really were wearing nothing at all.

You pause to think, trying to get the gears working in your head before the memories start to jog again.

You remember meeting Jungkook at that fancy lounge, he had given you the address to where your guardian demon was staying (more like hiding). You had marched up, banging on his door and demanding him to explain why the fuck he would hide something as important as attempting to transition to a guardian angel –

Your eyes widen, a sick surge of panic rushing from your gut and you might've given yourself whiplash in your haste to see the other side of the bed, only to sigh out quietly, your palpitating heart settling back to a calm, steady beat. Carefully, you roll yourself over, shuffling closer and finally letting yourself take him in, like Psyche laying eyes on Eros for the first time.

He sleeps so soundly, almost angelically and you resist the urge to snort at the irony of that thought, but with the way his dark raven locks are tousled, strands falling over his forehead, delicate lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks and his full pink lips that are parted slightly as the moonlight kisses every inch of smooth skin the sheets aren't covering, you swear he could fool anyone into believing it, even heaven themselves.

You can't help but to bring a hand up to sweep away the stray hairs, allowing you a better glimpse of him. It's the first time you've seen him this relaxed, any sort of tension no longer marring his elegant face, like for once he doesn't have to put on a strong front and the sight has you bewitched, wanting to take in as much as you can. When your fingers gently glide down his profile, you're surprised they come away a little warmer. In fact, the more you look, you think his complexion has improved, a healthier glow compared to when you first saw him. Is it your imagination? Or the trick of the light? You lift your head to try and get a better look.

You feel him stir before you can be sure of it and you're met with obsidian irises that seem to bore into your soul. There's a slightly dazed look in his eyes that has a fond smile tug at the corner of your lips as you settle back down again.

“Hi.” You whisper, as if afraid you'll break the peace of the night.

Recognition flits through his gaze at the sound of your voice and he mirrors your smile, breathing a soft sigh. He lifts the hand that was resting on his stomach to take hold of yours resting on his cheek.

“Hey.” It comes out deep and husky; still heavily laden with sleep and raspy from disuse. He turns so that he's facing you properly, thumb stroking the back of your hand before he places a kiss on your inner wrist. “Thought I was dreaming for a second...”

You let out what can only be described as a mix between a throaty laugh and a garble, a rather unattractive noise that has you pulling your hand back to cover your face in embarrassment, cheeks heating up further when your muffled voice comes out extremely hoarse and cracks if you so much as raise it.

“You can't say that when you were literally sleeping like a French girl waiting to be painted.”

He chuckles, not hesitating to pull you into his chest and sneaking another kiss to your forehead. You snuggle against him happily, throwing your arm across his stomach and pressing your own lips to his collarbone in return as he slips an arm under your head to use as a pillow.

“You're one to talk.” You hear him say above you before adding teasingly, “When you're not stealing all the blanket.”

You lightly push your knuckles at his jaw but there was no real force or seriousness behind the reprimand; just a case of your usual banters acting up. He retaliates by playfully snapping his teeth at your hand, as if to bite the fingers and you pull back, squealing and giggling.

“No biting!”

“So no biting I see...Duly noted then.”

Your mouth drops open, scandalized as your gaze whips up, only to find him barely containing a suggestive smirk at you.

“...I don't like what you're implying...” You say, eyes narrowing even though you find yourself subtly sinking lower in an attempt to hide the blush you feel rushing up your neck. He catches you all the same, tilting his head as the lazy smirk grows.

“Oh darling I only say to better please you. Although,” He pauses, slowly, purposefully leaning down closer to you, a gleam in his eyes that you swear made his dark eyes deepen into a devilish crimson for a split second.

“We'll probably have to work on that stamina – can't have you tapping out just after three orgasms.”

You choke, completely flustered at such brazen and lascivious words that sound far too honeyed than they should be, making the memories seem all the more vivid in your mind. Your entire body feels incredibly hot suddenly and not knowing what to do, you whine helplessly and attempt to roll away from him but he holds onto you, the sounds of his laughter tinkling in your ears.

“You're not getting any of this blanket for that now.” You pout, bunching and tugging the sheets to your chest more.

“I'm just teasing love, I couldn't help myself!” He giggles, nuzzling into your shoulder. “Forgive me?”

You let the silence drag out for a few seconds longer before you sneak a peek over, letting out a snort when you see him blinking big puppy dog eyes at you. You're biting back a smile as you turn to face him again.

“You're lucky you're cute.”

His eyes crease up as he brings a hand up to cup your cheek, stroking the soft skin. You lean into his touch, watching him affectionately until you see his expression dim to something more sombre.

“I really am sorry Y/N.” He confesses quietly, voice tinged with a heavy guilt as his fingers move to play distractedly with your hair, gently tucking the loose strands behind your ear or brushing them off your shoulder. “I'm sorry I kept this from you for as long as I did....”

You open your mouth to speak, but stop midway. You'd be lying if you said that you're not completely over being mad at him for what he did, however, the initial anger had more or less simmered to a heartache you can't quite shake. You feel him beginning to withdraw his touch, perhaps misreading your silence as reopening a tender wound but you bring a hand up to entangle your fingers with his, keeping them in place.

“I know you said you did it to protect me but,” The sigh you let out holds a lingering sadness, “I still wished you had told me...” You chastised, stern yet gentle as you lock a steady gaze on him. “You really had me worried and scared. I thought something happened to you...like...” You swallow and he squeezes your hand lightly in comfort. “Like the night I found you...in my room.”

He nods, solemnly conceding and his eyes drift away, reflecting in his thoughts.

“I'm sure you figured by now; that night was when I had came back from starting the transitioning process.” He rolls until he's lying on his back, staring aimlessly at the ceiling and you shuffle closer in his loosened hold, not wanting to be apart from his warmth, listening. “Usually not a big deal....but for a demon, it was dangerous.” A rueful chuckle. “To be honest, I still don't know how I even survived...”

Your heart clenches at the thought and you bite your lip, pushing down the lump that's growing.

“But ever since then, my body's been...off, and it only grew worse each day – to the point where using my powers for even the simplest things put a huge strain on me.” He inhales deeply, as if he's trying to breathe past the weight that's been sitting on his chest. “I felt so exhausted all the time; I thought at this rate, I wouldn't be able to do anything. I wouldn't be able to protect you from the misfortunes that follow me and if I couldn't do that much, it would be better for me to stay away, keep you from the dangers and...” You see his jaw stiffen before he directs his gaze to the side, face turned away from you. “Keep you from seeing me this way; helpless, weak.”

The last few words come out as if he loathes to admit them aloud, voice tight. You hear how frustrated he is with himself and you're quick to assuage those tumultuous thoughts, rising so that you hover above his form to cup his face in your hands until your eyes meet, pulling him from the abyss.

“I would rather be in danger than have you risk your life.” You say, softening when you continue, “I don't want to lose you....You mean so much to me. Please don't ever forget that.”

Dark eyes, much like the starless night sky outside the window, widen fractionally. You fight the blush threatening to bloom across your cheeks, realizing how ardent you might've sound but you speak honestly, even if your heart feels like it's about to beat out of your ribcage at any moment. You think it speeds up when you see his mouth tug into a small smile and he leans up to brush his nose against yours tenderly, winding one arm around your waist to press you even closer to his body, half lying on top of him.

“I never would've thought in my lifetime I would find someone like you cherub.” He says in disbelief, free hand coming up to bury into the locks of your hair, palm resting on the back of your neck. “I've done nothing to deserve you.”

“Well, you're just gonna have to accept it.” You answer, planting a light kiss on the tip of his nose. “Because I'm not going anywhere.” You punctuate each word with a kiss to the apple's of his cheeks, forehead, over the lids of his eyes, and finally on pillowy soft lips. You can't help but linger there a little longer. When you pull away, it's to take in his visage, eyes travelling over his form before something catches your attention.

At first, you didn't recognize it; the blemish appearing more or less like a birthmark, however, you see the size it takes up on the left side of his chest and it's then you realize that it was the tattoo you had seen, only this time it appeared to be so much more faded, and in some places, the inky lines have disappeared altogether. You frown, troubled at having not noticed until now...or perhaps from the fact that you had entirely missed it because it was barely there anymore, you're not sure.

“I'm guessing this is because of the process too?” You ask, thoughtlessly tracing the pads of your fingers over what's left of the mark. He hums, the sound rumbling beneath your palm as his larger hand encompasses yours, holding it in place and you feel the steady beating of his heart.

“I'm not surprised, it's the mark of a demon after all.” He explains, none too bothered and lightly shrugging at that. When the hard line of your lips doesn't let up, he chuckles, reaching up to poke your cheek. “It's just a mark cherub, nothing serious. It's meant to distinguish our kind because of our ability to take on any human appearances.”

Still, you don't like how it's another glaringly obvious sign that your guardian demon's health is deteriorating, an unwanted byproduct to add to the pile that does nothing but taunt you. It has your thoughts straying back to the idea that you had your mind set on. You're very tempted to bring it up; wanting to desperately tell him that you might've found another way, that he doesn't need to endure any more pain or sacrifices for your sake, that for once, maybe you can do something for him after all he's done for you.

“Cherub?”

The soft call brings you back, eyes refocusing on the demon who blinks up at you curiously with the faintest hints of concern etched across his deceivingly delicate features. At the sight, you feel yourself melting, endeared and suddenly you can't bear to ruin this sweet moment with another heavy topic – you both had just came to terms and settled the whole guardian angel thing after all.

You'll tell him later, right now you'd rather be making up the lost time you could've had kissing and snuggling him.

So in the end, it gets pushed to the very back of your mind and you redirect to something else, “Sorry, I was just thinking about what you said; how demons can take on any human appearances. I'll admit, your Jimin look is impressive.”

You see him take pause, no doubt trying to process the flitting thought that has just passed before ultimately, he chooses to let it slide and allows you to pull him into your playful antics. The smug smirk that makes its way onto his lips has a coquettish one sneaking onto your own. “But,” you almost laugh at how fast he falters at the single word and your smile grows more and more teasing. “I'm afraid you got sloppy, with or without your mark I could easily tell you weren't actually Jimin.”

He scoffs, looking thoroughly affronted by your claims. “How? I think my look is pretty spot on.”

You hum, propping up a little more so that you can brush the dark strands of hair on his forehead with the tips of your finger. “True....But you could say almost too perfect. See, Jimin has a beauty mark here.” You gently tap on a spot just above his left brow and you giggle when the skin wrinkles up in his effort to follow your movement attentively. “And here...” Your finger lowers to the edge of his collarbone. “And one on the back of his neck. You only managed to get the one on his cheek right.”

The indignant grunt he makes lets you know he's pouting without you even having to look.

“His teeth aren't perfectly straight like yours either – one of his front tooth is slightly crooked.”

“...I do hope your interest in teeth won't go beyond that...”

You smack his chest lightly, kissing your teeth but otherwise make no further comment. “I think the last thing that gave you away is your choice in piercings...” You point out, brushing your thumb against the sensitive shell of his ear where the helix stud sits. “Jimin doesn't have this one anymore.”

“A shame really...” You hear the demon murmur and your eyebrows quirk, barely catching the way he swallows thickly, eyes darting off to the side.

You blink, wondering if you've made him self-conscious or uncomfortable in any way but little do you know, the demon is only relieved you hadn't noticed the goosebumps that have erupted over his arm at your innocent touch.

“You're right, and that's why I like it – the helix piercing.” You continue, smiling gently. “And everything else you missed. It's like your own kind of imperfections and preferences...it just proves that you're you, and not Jimin.”

You can't help letting your voice tether off into something much softer for the quiet confession hidden in those last few words.

You're the one I love.

Your stomach flutters with butterflies at the foreign feeling, shrinking in on yourself out of shyness and you know you really shouldn't be, but you're also nervous; for what you're not even entirely sure. Mentally, you scold yourself – you must seem like such a weird, emotional mess of a human being to him.

The rumbling vibrations of his chuckle catches your attention, as does the palm of his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“Well, I'm glad that you're the one to differentiate the two of us.”

He doesn't need to say anything else because from the fond look in his eyes and the tender dulcet tone of his voice, you see and hear his unspoken response, how much it means to him.

Thank you for loving me, for me.

Your heart swells unbelievably in size that you're actually left a little breathless. The butterflies are going crazy now and so overwhelmed by your emotions but not knowing how to express them adequately, you bury your face into his neck and squeeze a tight hug into him. You get a breathy laugh in response and feel his strong arms squeezing you right back, his mouth pressing into the crown of your head. You stay like that for a while, simply taking in the scent that is so uniquely his. It never fails to relax every nerve in your body, and coupled with the rhythmic stroking of his hand through your hair, you find yourself struggling to blink away the heaviness that's starting to fall over your lids.

Your lips move in a drowsy mumble, sluggishly forming the beginnings of his name but then stopping abruptly. Lifting your head so that you can look at him, you're suddenly wide eyed with the realization.

“I should probably stop calling you 'Jimin' then huh?”

Obsidian eyes blink down at you, amusement shining in their depths for the way you seem so pressed about the issue, like you had offended him to the highest degree. Your chest moves in sync with the deep inhale he takes, watching as he languidly lifts his arm to tuck it behind his head, his expression shifting to something a little more pensive before he seems to reach a conclusion.

“As much as I appreciate the sentiment cherub, I think it's safer if you still continue to. When I said there is power to a name, I didn't mean so lightly. A demon can be overpowered or even banished should their true name be known; be it by a medium, an exorcist or –“

“An angel.”

The words slips out unconsciously in a small whisper, like you're afraid to speak it into existence.

“...Yes, especially angels.” He answers you like he was the bearer of bad news, only you knew that much already. You might not be an expert, but you think it's pretty basic knowledge that demons (and by proxy, other kinds of dark entities) can be expelled in some form or another – your past jokes and gibes at your own guardian demon were proof of that matter alone.

However, now you've been hit in the face with just how volatile that reality is; and all it would take is uttering his name to the wrong person.

“I won't let that happen.”

It's a promise, a vow; one you'll be damned if you broke. He smiles, endeared at your unwavering display of determination.

“I know you won't love, but regardless, if you ever find yourself in danger don't hesitate to call my name.”

Your brows furrow in protest. “But that's too –”

“No buts Y/N.” He gently reprimands you, curling a finger under your chin so that your eyes lock onto the firm gaze he fixes you with. “As your guardian; your safety is still and will always remain my priority.”

There's a finality with the statement that lets you know that no amount of arguing will change his mind on that and your mouth reluctantly falls shut. At your conflicted and crestfallen look, he softens.

“Hey.”

You perk up slightly and feel the featherlight brushes of his finger against the roundness of your cheek, a small placating gesture.

“Don't worry too much on it cherub, just something I want you to keep in mind yeah?”

You want to weakly retort that it's too late for that, mind already running amok with worse case scenarios. You don't get too far into it however, as fatigue rolls over you like a powerful wave, overtaking you in the form of a giant yawn that you struggle to stifle; the force of it has your whole body shuddering.

“We should really stop meeting like this, I'm afraid it's finally taking a toll on you.”

The disgruntled noise you let out gets muffled in with the last remnants of the tired exhale. You don't truly understand what he means until you blink away the tears, catching sight of a sleek digital clock sitting on the night stand, and squinting, you see the numbers illuminating in green reads 4:45AM.

You groan and feel as if whatever remaining energy you had is drained after knowing the time. Shutting your eyes, your body sags completely, half-draped unceremoniously over the firm body of your demon.

“Now, now princess, you'll regret falling asleep like this when you wake up.” You hear him tut before you feel yourself be moved, rolled to your side so that you lie properly on the mattress. You whine, was perfectly contented where you were but settle once you feel arms wrap itself around your waist, pulling you close and your face is once again buried perfectly into the crook of his neck, head resting on the pillow.

The calming scent of him along with his warmth and the plush covers cocooning you easily allows for sleep to pull at your lids once more, your own arms instinctively curling around him.

“Good?”

You hum, sighing out as your worries slowly muddle together into nothing more than a heavy fog and when he starts to run his fingers through your hair again, you're practically mush.

“...You never answered my question...” You murmur thoughtlessly, like a subconscious, knee jerk reaction born from a last minute need for some peace of mind before you finally succumb to the rapidly growing fatigue. His hand stills momentarily, and you're not sure if it's because he had barely made out your slurred words or if it's to recall the memory. There's a lapse in silence, how long you're not even sure at this point as you feel yourself drifting in and out of being awake, but then you hear it – sweet and wistful.

“...For as long as I'm yours, I'll stay.”

-

The next time you wake, it is to a warmth that you quickly find wasn't the kind you expected nor want. The soft rays of the sun easily pierces through the chiffon curtains that drape over the floor to ceiling windows in the bedroom, bathing the space in a golden haze and while often times, it leaves for an impressive view of the vast cityscape below, you're not entirely appreciative of the exposure it gives you now. Not only did it disrupt you from your peaceful slumber, it does little to hide the coolness you feel from the empty space beside you.

You sit up with a start, still dazed and stay there for a good minute, squinting through the light that's way too bright the same time trying to kickstart your mind into gear – you never were the best person to wake up, it took you forever to get yourself together. Eventually, your eyes begin to take in what's around you, the dark grey sheets that pool around your waist and finally getting a good look at the interior of the room.

It's ridiculously spacious, as is the bed you're sitting in, even from what little you had seen initially amidst the dim lighting along with the flurry of heightened emotions and passion. In fact, it looks a lot like a snapshot right out of a luxury home interior decorating magazine if you're going to be honest.

Off the bat, you can tell the colour scheme was mainly dark greys, creams, and blacks, accented by the same deep mahogany wood of the front door. It was also decorated simply with minimalistic styled furnishing. Aside from the low laying king sized bed, with its taupe coloured upholstered frame, a dresser sits across from you and in the far corner facing the large windows was a singular lounge chair with a small coffee table situated in front.

Turning your head, you see matching night tables, both with identical geometric lamps but one had the clock you spotted earlier, the time now reading 2:16PM. To your left, you notice a doorway situated perpendicular to the large windows in one corner of the room while to the right of you, there was another door and just ahead to the right was another. Immediately, you guess that these lead off to one of three places; a bathroom, a closet or the main hall leading out to the rest of the penthouse.

A shiver passes through you, causing you to momentarily shrink in on yourself and reminding you that you're still very much nude. Self-consciously, you tug the blankets around you back up once more, wearing it as a makeshift cape as you continue to glance around the room, now with more awake eyes. It's then that you finally notice your neatly folded clothes laying on the black cushioned bench at the end of the bed, and sitting just beside that pile was a plain black robe and towels. The rush of air through your nose barely concealed the quiet giggle seeping through – so sweet of him.

You should probably shower, you think. Though surprisingly, you don't feel as grimy as you would have thought but still, it'd be refreshing. You lean over until your hand reaches the robe, already loving the extremely plush softness you feel under your fingertips. It feels even better once you shrug it on, securing the sash around your waist and you honestly think you can fall right back asleep in it. A tempting idea, but you have more pressing matters. Niggling at the back of your mind, a part of you wanted to find your guardian demon first, to check up on him in the same manner he'd so carefully demonstrated upon your waking and confirm your comfort wasn't at the expense of his health. Plus – and even as you admit this, your heart traitorously flutters – you miss him.

You shuffle to the edge of the bed until you're able to swing your legs over, letting the soles of your feet touch the cream carpeting before you haul yourself up. You sharply inhale, halting in your steps at the popping of joints and a dull ache, the latter catching you off guard (and causing a mad rush of heat to your face) that you had to take a moment before tentatively continuing to the door farthest from you.

Just as your hand brushes the handle, your hair falls over your face and without thinking, you sweep it away but the motion makes you pause abruptly. Slowly, your mind jogs back up to speed, your fingers combing through the messy locks in an attempt to smooth it out and suddenly you need a mirror. Actually, never mind a mirror, you probably should at least brush your teeth before heading out so recklessly!

Shamefaced, you change course, heading straight to the door you guessed was the en suite bathroom. The moment you opened the door, you're immediately taken aback. Much like the bedroom, the bathroom was quite big and so cleanly decorated with wide windows that take up one wall, offering whoever that was soaking in the Jacuzzi bathtub the same expansive view as the bedroom. Aside from the tub, there was also a glass shower stall big enough to fit at least four people at once despite having a bench inside, the stone marble matching in colour with the twin sink counter and cool grey tiles.

It takes you a moment to compose yourself again from being awestruck with the excessive bathroom and after much careful rifling in the medicine cabinet, you find a spare toothbrush and a travel sized toothpaste pack.

Teeth brushed and a little bit more refreshed from a splash of water to your face, you finally poke your head out of the door your had initially set your sights on. You find your previous suspicions correct as laid out before you was a hallway, the walls a warm cream beige colour that matched the carpet that continued outside the bedroom and any doors were of the same mahogany wood. It wasn't fairly long as you see just not far ahead, the carpeting stops at a threshold of sorts and leads off to another open space with dark granite flooring. Immediately, you're drawn out without hesitation because from the small glimpse alone, your eyes were already bugging out of your head.

So by the time you actually reached the end, you swear your jaw just about dropped off its hinges. The space you stumbled into was a living room, the size alone you think equalled to your kitchen, living room and bedroom, with its high ceilings, so tall that there's room to hang an equally large linear chandelier without appearing claustrophobic (in fact, the lighting fixture itself looked as if it could pass off as an expensive art installation) and if you had thought the view in the bedroom was extreme, you've been proven sorely wrong.

One side of the room is entirely made up of floor to ceiling windows, making the view even more vast with nothing obstructing it that if you had peered over, you would believed you were simply floating on a cloud in the sky, truly suspended in mid-air. Mounted on the wall adjacent to the panel of large glass was a sleek, electric fireplace, the flames dancing over small, white pebbled stones rather than wood and at the centre were long velvet couches surrounding a simple wood coffee table, all encircled by a lush white fur rug.

What's more, the other thing that had caught your attention was the set of floating stairs that lead up to another level of the penthouse – leading to what you're not sure. With your eyes so busily roaming about the entire area, you had failed to notice the person you've initially set out to look for until the very last moment, finally spotting his figure ahead in the kitchen situated under the large landing of the stairs. His back was turned towards you so all you saw was his tousled raven locks, the faint twinkling of his silver chained earrings and a loose fitting white tunic. Automatically, you smile, your heart easing and suddenly the splendour of this luxurious penthouse means nothing to you.

Despite your approach being fairly quiet, you knew it was no match for the heightened senses of a demon and without surprise, you see him turn his head slightly to acknowledge your presence just as you reach the island counter separating you from him.

“Slept well cherub?” He asks with a charming quirk of his lips.

You seat yourself on the breakfast stool, propping your arm on top of the marble counter top and hum, pretending to think.

“For Egyptian cotton, it wasn't too bad I guess.”

You get a chuckle from him before he turns his attention back to what's in front of him, and it's then that you smell the cooking of eggs and bacon. Instantly, your stomach gurgles, demanding to be fed and your cheeks colour at the loud sound it made. There's no way the demon in front of you could've missed it, even if he didn't have supernatural hearing. So as if prompted, he lifted the sizzling pan and dispensed its contents onto a pristine white plate sitting beside the stove, just as the toaster pinged.

You watch him take the single slice between his fingers before he faces you once more, presenting you a plate of creamy scrambled eggs, strips of crispy bacon and perfectly golden toast on the side.

“Sorry if it's a little lacking. I've found that throughout the years, I don't have a good grasp of flavours humans enjoy.” He apologizes. “Eggs and bacon are the few dishes you can't really go wrong with.”

You suppress the snort, accepting the plate gratefully nonetheless and not minding his forewarning – it made sense after all so you assured, “Hey, at least it looks edible and cooked well; already better than my own scrambled eggs and bacon.”

The smile he gives you makes his eyes crease into crescent moons, his cheeks rounding with a glimmer of mirth that makes him appear very boyish. He hands you a silver fork pulled from one of the drawers.

“Very sweet of you cherub.”

Your eyes squint and your cheeks puff up from the force of the exaggerated, syrupy sweet smile you give him, wiggling in your seat like a cheeky five year old as you lift your hand to take the utensil. You miss the crooked stretch of his lips so before you could close around the fork, he pulls it out of reach and lightly bonks the back of your hand with it. The shock of the metal hitting your knuckle jolts you and your eyes snap open in an instant, mouth open.

“Jimin!” You say, aghast but the sound is more or less void of any real offence as you act out cradling your 'injured' hand.

All he does is bark a single laugh and gesture to the fork for you to take again. “Eat up, food's getting cold.”

Not like you needed to be told twice, if not by Jimin then the sounds of your growling stomach. You gratefully begin to chew on the eggs and bacon (albeit they were on the bland side, but food is food and you ate happily). Meanwhile, Jimin busies himself making a cup of tea for you after he had asked your preferences and as he does, you both chatted, mainly about this apartment you didn't know he had.

“I rarely have any use for these places because I never really stay for long.” Jimin explains casually, sliding you a steaming mug as you finish your last bit of toast. “I use them if I have time or if I just want some place quiet to relax and not be disturbed.”

“Then what's the point of having a place so big?” You ask, exchanging your empty plate for the mug, wrapping it up in your hands to warm your palms.

He props up an elbow, leaning on the counter with a cheek resting in one palm and shrugs. “I can't deny I like nice things but in the end, it doesn't have any real value to me.” Here, a sly smile makes his way onto those pillowy soft lips. “You can have it if you want.”

The sentence nearly makes you spit out the tea you had so meticulously been blowing on and you cough, stammering, “I-It's fine! Don't joke like that!”

“I wasn't joking, I was being serious.”

The way Jimin said it was so matter of fact that you could only blink in disbelief. After much floundering, you clear your throat, bringing up the mug closer to your face in hopes of shielding the heat that's spreading over your cheeks. “Still, there's no need. I can't possibly take your house.”

The demon in front of you puffs a chortle, still looking as carefree on the matter as ever, “If you ever change your mind, let me know.”

You grunt bemusedly, mumbling about how you wouldn't even know what to do with a place so big, before taking a slow sip of your tea, humming lightly at the warming feeling and the pleasant taste. Jimin watches you quietly, a content smile on his face. You try to seem unbothered but evidently, the effects of your newly blossomed relationship with him has yet to calm down and so, your heart fluttered in your chest incessantly the moment you locked gazes with those irises, dark as night that seem to only shine on you.

Suddenly, you find yourself in a paradox – while you feel like you're struggling to maintain eye contact with Jimin, no matter how much your eyes flit and wander aimlessly, in the end you're drawn back to him anyways. Rather shameless you think, but confidently, you could at least say that you can't be blamed.

You're not sure if it's the sun's rays, so freely beaming into the room from those large windows, or it's just Jimin, but he seems to emit an unexplained ethereal glow. Gone was the ashen paleness that had made his skin appear almost translucent, his complexion radiates a warm honeyed suppleness that you've missed seeing on him because with it, he looked so much livelier.

Wait.

Now that nothing is hindering your sights, you see clearly that any ailments on his features have been significantly reduced. The purplish dark circles that had clung under his eyes are gone, his cheeks don't seem to be so sunken in and even his raven black hair, tousled effortlessly, had a wonderful sheen as it fell in thick waves over his forehead.

It's with without a doubt, this Jimin in front of you right now really was indeed healthier.

Unconsciously you find your hand reaching out to his face as if wanting to confirm physically that this was no illusion or dream, making Jimin blink in surprise before he gently catches your hand mid-way.

“Something wrong cherub?”

“It's just,” You start, fingers automatically clasping in his hold and you absentmindedly think how soft and warm his hands were. “How are you feeling?”

The sudden question must've caught Jimin a little off guard so after a second of serious considerations, he replies, “I feel...pretty good?”

“You look pretty good too.” The words slip right out before you realized it but once you do, you pull your hand back hastily, flustered as you rambled. “Not that you don't always look good! Because you do! Because you know, you're a demon, master of disguises and all that, and you've even got on arguably one of the best looking faces on the planet so what I meant was you don't look like a ghost that's been dead for centuries anymore instead of a demon like you're supposed to be!”

Jimin, of course, didn't really bother to hide the toothy grin that's forming yet very graciously still moved the subject along in fear that you would pass out. “You do have a point – as you've seen and have been told, the effects of the transition were obvious on me. But,” He lifts up a hand to eye level, spreading his fingers and flipping it this way and that. “I...really do feel fine. Much better than I have for days.” The last admittance has his shapely brows furrowing, as if he couldn't believe it himself once he's said it aloud.

“Is there any sort of explanation for this?” You ask.

Then, after some pondering, he slowly let his hand fall to his side and hummed, “There are...a few number of possibilities I can think of. The most likely one is that unconsciously, I might've taken some energy from you.”

“Taken from me? When did – oh...” It clicked just as the sentence was coming out and instantly your face flushes, eyes wide. Jimin's brow rose, his lips twitching imperceptibly at the corner and you rush, clearing your throat to cover up. “I thought that was like....a specific ability you needed to have, unless you mean to tell me you're an incubus...”

Jimin snorts, bringing a fist up to cover his mouth before he said, “No cherub, I'm not. All demons possess this ability to a certain degree but most usually lean towards certain affinities. Unless you're specifically an incubus, there are other way demons can gain sustenance or a source for their power other than taking energy directly from humans.”

At such news, your own brows raise in curiousity and you can't help but to ask. “Then what do you usually use?”

“Oh the usual; fear, invoking murderous intent, enticing those into depravity.” Jimin lightly lists off, as if he's talking about hobbies he likes to do on a lazy Sunday.

“Hah....” You shouldn't be so surprised. “Well, either way, as long as you're feeling better.”

Jimin hums noncommittally, distractedly reaching out to tuck a strand of fallen hair behind your ear and though his face is mostly impassive, you get the feeling that he was still deeply mulling over this. But the pensive look soon disappears, his eyes going slightly hooded as something else had caught his attention, his focus going to a place on your neck. You felt the hand brushing your hair come to a slow too and shivered when the pads lightly graze the skin there, trailing a path downwards before stopping.

“What a mess I've made.” The low rumbling murmur has your breath involuntarily hitching and your chin automatically tilts down to see what he was referring to. With his prodding, the collar of your robe had been pushed open to reveal the purplish colouring that mottled the surface of the skin along your collarbone and already without needing to see the full extent of the bruising, you know your neck is covered with them.

It was honestly something you hadn't thought about until it's been pointed out so the moment actually caught you off guard and in your stupor, you can only half coherently say, “Not like it hurts or anything...”

When his fingers draw the robe back a little further to get a clearer look, he unwittingly stumbles into another rather troubling thing.

“You're not dressed.”

“...Well, I was gonna shower....” You mumble, letting your eyes drift off from embarrassment. You hear Jimin breathe out a snicker.

“Dirty girl.”

You narrow your gaze back at him, pouting your lips. “Why don't you show me how to work your fancy expensive shower then.”

He laughs. “It's just a bunch of knobs cherub, how hard can it be?”

“Do you even shower?” You ask back accusingly, hands coming up to rest on your hips.

At that, he cocks his head, stepping back with arms crossed and almost haughtily, “I do, in fact, I already did shower this morning. I'm a little offended you would accuse me of having poor hygiene.”

You copy his pose and sniff, “Sure could've fooled me.”

It's obvious what a lie that was because out of the two of you, anyone could tell with one glance which one is likely to smell more like vanilla and peaches (not you), but you can't help making it a habit to poke the tiger when it's asleep.

Sure enough, Jimin's mouth drops open, looking at you incredulously and an actual hint of mild offence. Then he puffs out a scoff, lips quirking up at the corner and suddenly you don't like that glint in his eyes. In a frighteningly calm manner, Jimin lowers his arms and then smiled serenely, only it came off more creepy than reassuring.

“Y/N ~ ....” He singsongs and as if the impending danger has heightened your senses, you see him subtly shift his weight and it's all you need to whip around and take off running, squealing as you go. Probably not the greatest idea since how the hell do you expect to outrun a demon but when you heard the sounds of his jovial laughing right behind you, you think at least some good came out of it.

[ladyfogg]

May I? - 27/?

May I? - 27/?

Fic Summary: Ensign Faith Diaz struggles to hide her mental illness from her fellow shipmates aboard the Enterprise until an intrigued Data goes out of his way to try to understand her behavior. At his insistence, Faith tries to figure out what she’s truly passionate about and eventually seeks the professional help she needs. Fic Masterpost.

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Data/Female OC

Warnings: tw: depression, tw: anxiety, fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut

The lights in the bedroom were dim but Data could still see the outline of Faith’s body by the moon shining through the blinds. Her back arched as he thrust into her from behind, his hands holding her hips for leverage. She rocked and moved with him, panting and twisting the bedsheets as she did. They had not done this position before and he found he quite liked the visual. And judging by the noises Faith made, he was sure she enjoyed it as well.

“Oh, Data!” she moaned.

The high pitch in her voice let him know he had found the correct angle. But her body did not shudder so he readjusted by a fraction of a degree. He earned a loud whine for his efforts and felt the way her body jolted in pleasure.

He calculated that at his current rate of speed if he maintained that angle and applied manual stimulation…

She feels so good.

The sudden stray thought interrupted his processes and he immediately froze. He had heard of humans experiencing such random thoughts before but he himself had not been able to replicate it on his own. To experience such a phenomenon himself had taken him by surprise. It was not just the appearance of the thought that struck him but the thought itself.

He had been enjoying himself as much as he can during their sexual acts. The smoothness of Faith’s skin had always intrigued him and the sensation of being inside her was not something he could quantify. And yet, his brain had decided that it felt good.

“Data?” Faith panted, craning her neck to look back at him. “W-Why’d you stop?”

“I had a thought.”

“Now?”

She did not normally get annoyed with him but it was evident by her tone that she was.

Data looked at her, bent before him, her buttocks flush against his lap, and the tantalizing dip of her spine as her top half rested on the soft mattress. Her wild hair was in her eyes and he reached out to push it away from her face as he draped his chest along her back. She whimpered when his breath ghosted across her ear.

“You feel good, Faith.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Wha…what do you mean?”

Data began to move again and though it was not the precise angle from before, Faith still responded to it. She moaned again, louder than before.  

“I am enjoying being inside you,” he went on. “I do not wish to stop anytime soon.”

Faith gasped and Data slid one arm around her chest so he could hold her as close as possible. She wiggled and moaned, rutting along with him as much as she could with the small space she had.

“Stars, Data! When you talk like that while moving like that…” She could not finish her sentence without moaning again.

“By my calculations and judging by our previous experiences, I estimate you can handle at least another two hours of sexual intercourse before requiring rest.”

“Oh god! Please don’t make me wait that long before I can cum.”

“I did not say you had to. In that time, you will experience several orgasms.”

He let her go so he could push himself up again. Minutes later, when her release took hold, she called his name louder than he had heard her done before.

They made love for as long as she could handle until she was a shuddering mess and her slow movements showed she was fatigued. Only then did Data finish, making sure to stay buried in her warmth until the moment of completion ended. It was an impulse that had developed over the course of their relationship, as he noted Faith seemed to enjoy it as much as he did.

Gently, he slipped out of her and laid on the bed, his hand running soothingly up and down her back. She did not move right away, only laid there spread out and panting.

“Faith, are you alright? Was that too long for intercourse?”

“I’m fine, just gimme a second.” Her words were slurred but he could still hear the satisfaction in her tone.

Eventually, she grunted and rolled over so she could face him. “Dear god, Data. That was the most intense lovemaking yet.”

“I am glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“And you did too apparently,” she said with a grin. “Did you really feel something or was that your attempt at dirty talk?”

“I was not attempting anything other than making you orgasm.”

“Mission fucking accomplished.”

“Did my talking elicit an arousing response?”

Still grinning, Faith drew closer, reaching down to take Data’s hand. She slid it between her thighs where he could touch the wetness there.

“Definitely.”

“Duly noted.”

He kissed her deeply while his fingers stroked the bundle of nerves that made her quake. She moaned, throwing her leg over his hip to allow for easier access. He had assumed she would need a break but it seemed his calculations were off.

He drew away from the kiss so he could study her expressions as he touched her. As many times as he painted her face, it was never enough. He never felt like he could truly capture what he saw when he looked at her. From the pinch of her eyebrows to the dip of her nose, to the way her bottom teeth dug into her full lip…it was all too beautiful to comprehend.

Data coaxed another orgasm out of her before she rolled into her back with a dreamy sigh.

“If this is what our vacation entails I’m mad I didn’t agree to take shore leave sooner,” she said with a satisfied hum.

Their shore leave had so far consisted of very little activity outside of their small stretch of beach

The first two days, they had taken the time to adjust to their surroundings and see what the hotel had to offer. There were numerous amenities, including a full-service spa, various small restaurants, and other recreational activities. Faith was not interested in most of them, except the spa where she had received a massage which she had described as leaving her boneless.

Other than that, the rest of the time was spent swimming or laying on the beach.

Lovemaking had also been a priority.

Data had noticed that Faith’s sexual appetite had greatly increased throughout their vacation. He concluded that since neither of them was constantly required to split their attention between their various duties, she was taking advantage of their alone time. Data did not nor would he complain. He was fascinated by the change in both of them.  

“I do not require rest and am happy to continue our sexual explorations during the time we have.”

“You’re too good to me.” She kissed him softly before forcing herself to sit up. “Mmmm, why can’t we just stay here forever?”

“I am assuming you do not actually mean forever.”

“I don’t. But it still sounds nice.” She draped herself across his chest, tracing the lines of his abdomen. Her wild hair and hazy eyes made Data stare, once again struck by her beauty.

“It does sound like an enjoyable way to spend our time. Though I do think you will grow mentally restless with nothing to do other than swimming and making love.”

“Probably. But it’s a sexy fantasy to have.”

“On that, I agree.”

They laid there for a time, Faith tracing her fingers across his skin while Data studied her. He was intimately familiar with all of her expressions. The one she wore now seemed hesitant, as though she wanted to say something but had not worked up the courage to do so.

“What is on your mind, Faith?” he asked, allowing one of her curls to wrap around his finger.

She smiled. “You and that positronic brain of yours.” She fell silent for a moment. “I have a present for you.”

This intrigued Data. It was not a special occasion or holiday so he had not anticipated receiving any gift. “I must admit I am curious. Why do you seem so worried?”

“I don’t know if you’re going to like it.”

“Faith, you should know by now that I greatly appreciate anything you give me, regardless of what it is.”

Her smile widened and she leaned in to kiss him before slipping out of bed.

“You did not have to go through the trouble,” he continued as he sat up.

She crossed the room to their belongings. “It wasn’t any trouble. Well, that’s not true. It was a little bit of trouble but I wanted to do it. I wanted to show you how much I appreciate you.”

She dug around in their bag for a moment before withdrawing something and hiding it behind her back. When she returned to his side, she said, “Close your eyes.”

Data promptly did as she commanded. Faith picked up his hand and placed an object into it. He knew by touch instantly what the chemical makeup of the item was so when he opened his eyes, he was not surprised to see a piece of neatly rolled paper, tied with a red ribbon.

“Thank you,” he said automatically.

Faith chuckled. “Open it, Data.”

Curiously, Data carefully untied the bow before unrolling the small scroll. He was surprised to find his own likeness staring back at him. The image had been carefully drawn in thick pencil, with smaller lines added to shade in and include minute details. While it was not an exact reproduction, it was fairly close.

“Faith? Did you draw this?”

She nodded with a proud smile, shoulders relaxing when she realized he liked it. “I noticed that you don’t paint yourself,” she explained, pulling her knees up to her chest. “I decided to try my hand at drawing, even took a couple of classes. What do you think?”

He had not known she had been taking drawing lessons. With their full schedules, he had not had the time to ask about any recreational activities. He had assumed since she was so tired, she did not have the energy. Now it seemed she had sought some out on her own.

“This is very good,” he said. And he meant it. “Your strokes and lines were done with confidence and precision and your attempt at shading was well-executed.” He felt a wave of affection and smiled at her. “Thank you. I have never received a gift quite like this.”

Faith beamed. “I’m so glad you like it. I know you love art and painting, and while it’s not really my thing I wanted to try. You’ve done so many wonderful paintings of me, I felt I should return the favor.”

“Perhaps we can hang it in our quarters when we return to the ship.”

“I would like that a lot,” she said. “Actually, I was thinking maybe you could do a family portrait of us. Me, you, and Spot.”

At the word “family”, Data tore his eyes away from the drawing. “Do you consider the three of us a family?”

“Well, yes. Don’t you?”

“I do. I appreciate that the sentiment is shared.”

He carefully placed the present on the nightstand as Faith made herself comfortable next to him. Drawing up the blankets, Data pulled her in close and settled against the pillows.

“Faith, may I ask you something?”

“Sure. What is it?”

“We have been a couple for several months now. When do you believe you will feel comfortable talking about the subject of marriage?”

Her head, which had been resting on his shoulder, snapped back so she could stare at him with wide eyes. “Uhh…what…when…” She struggled to speak. “You…want to marry me?”

“Is that not something you desire?”

“I’ve honestly never really thought about marriage.”

“Oh. I see.”

Faith sat up, placing a comforting hand on his chest. “But that was before!” she said quickly. “Before I met you and before we started our relationship. Marriage was never on my mind because, honestly, I never thought I would feel close enough or comfortable enough with someone to consider it.”

“Has that changed?”

“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about what it would be like if we got married.”

Data placed his hand over hers. “I feel it prudent to let you know that I do intend to propose to you in the future.”

Faith did not do or say anything for thirty full seconds, except rapidly blink. Data gave her a curious look.

“For once, I am having trouble reading your expression,” he said. “Some help into what you are feeling would be appreciated.”

Faith smiled. “It’s one thing to think about marriage, it’s another to talk about it. The same as any other fantasy.”

“Does this change your mind?”

She shook her head, reaching out to stroke his cheek. “No,” she said. “It just makes the fantasy more of a reality, which is scary.”

“In what way?”

Faith sighed and curled up against him again. “In a fantasy, everything goes how you want it to. In reality, there’s a chance of making a mistake.”

“And you feel marrying me would be a mistake?”

“Oh, stars, no! I’d be the luckiest woman in the galaxy if I had a chance to marry you I just…” She struggled to find the words. “I guess, I’m just afraid that you’d eventually think marrying me was a mistake.”

Data was confused. He could not follow her logic. “I do not understand.”

“Data, these periods of anxiety and depression most likely will never go away. Which means I’ll be experiencing them throughout the rest of my life. The thought of you having to deal with that makes me feel so guilty.”

“I do not see it at ‘dealing’ with anything. They are a part of you. You are operating under the assumption that I regard this as a chore. I do not. I am sorry if I made you feel like it is.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Faith assured him, hugging him tighter. “I guess to me sometimes it feels like a chore. And I know in previous relationships I was told it was…”

Hearing these words made Data feel angry. Not the explosive anger he had experienced prior. A more subdued version.

“Whoever made you feel such a way was wrong!” he said, his voice taking on a stern tone. “Loving you is not a chore.”

Faith looked up, brown eyes wide. “Data…”

“Faith, you are a wonderful woman. I am the luckiest sentient being because I get to experience you. All of you. And I do not want to experience another.”

He kissed her forcefully, needing to show her how much he meant what he said. Within seconds he had her on her back beneath him, her hands running up his shoulder blades as she allowed him to deepen the kiss.

Though he had made love to her for hours, he could do so again. He wanted to do so

The tiny gasp that escaped her lips as he pushed into her was instantly swallowed by his kiss. Data went slowly, taking his time. He knew the speed that Faith liked, how deep she needed him to be to reach orgasm, but he was not thinking about her pleasure at that moment. He only thought of his own growing need.

Data buried his face in her neck, inhaling the scent of her sweat-slick skin. He used to not understand how olfaction connected with sexual intercourse until he became sexually active with Faith. He then understood that it was connected to scene memory. Smelling Faith’s skin at such a close range, during such an intimate moment, brought to the surface memories of their numerous sexual encounters.

It made Data remember how she felt, how she yielded to his touch. How she sounded when he took her in his arms.

When he finally had his fill, his release came naturally. Faith lay sprawled beneath him, her brown eyes shining at him with hazy wonder as she dragged them open.

She reached up, pushing his hair back from his face, thumb stroking his ear as she tucked it back.

“Data,” she breathed in a soft voice. “Did you just…give into impulse?”

“I have given in to impulse before.”

“Not like that.”

He shook his head. “No, not like that. Was it…satisfying?”

“It was wonderful.”

“I did not hurt you did I?”

Faith smiled and shook her head. “No, you didn’t hurt me. Although now we definitely need a break because I am sore. Not in a bad way. In a very, very, good way.”

“You should sleep. You must be very weary.”

They settled into comfortable positions and Data turned off the dim lights, plunging the room into darkness. By then the moon was hidden behind clouds. But it was not the total darkness of space around them. Ambient light from outside gave the room shadows and it was not long before Data heard Faith’s breathing become slow and even.

She slept curled in his arms. Data held her for some time. He did not want to activate his sleep program. Rather, he decided to lay there and contemplate. After several hours, he extracted himself from her embrace. Silently, he stepped out onto the porch. The waves were close enough for Data to step down and be standing in the water.

He stared out at the vast ocean, understanding why Faith was drawn to such scenery. It was hard to think of anything else when faced with such an endless view.

In many of the outcomes, he calculated he saw Faith leaving the Enterprise in six-five point two percent of them. Of those scenarios, he joined her eighty-nine percent of the time. That number steadily increased as their time together grew.

It would not be long before it was one-hundred.

Of the scenarios where he did not immediately join her, he calculated he eventually would within a short period of time.

Either way, Faith was a part of his future. It was as he told her when he said he loved her. He could not see a future for him that excluded Faith.

Data stood watching the water until the suns began to rise. He knew Faith would enjoy the view so he went back into the cabin. She was still sound asleep, spread across the bed and tangled in bedsheets. He smiled at the image, having never seen Faith so relaxed.

He crawled back into bed, hovering over her. “Faith?” He drew back her hair away from her ear.

She stirred in her sleep, leaning into his touch. “Hmmm?”

“The suns are rising. It is a remarkable sight.”

She rolled onto her back, yawning. “You’re a remarkable sight.”

“Come see.”

She lazily lifted her arm and Data helped pull her out of bed. With the blanket draped around her shoulders, Faith shuffled outside with him. Together they sat on the top step, watching the sunrise and the tide pull back. Her head rested on his shoulder.

Data knew he would remember this moment. Not just because he remembered everything, but because of the significance. There were several of his memories of Faith which he had categorized by importance. This would certainly be one of them.

“What do you wish to do today?” he asked.

She slipped her arm through his. “Just this.”

Because he could not think of a better way to spend their time, he smiled. “If you wish.”

[ragingbookdragon]

The Moment They Met

An AC3/AC:R Headcanon/Fic?

Word Count: 2,265 Warnings: Explicit Language

Author’s Note: So this is the first moment where the reader meets Shay and Haytham, but they’re set in different times? Like after the beginning events of AC3 and after Shay joins the Templars? So technically AC:R time period. Enjoy! -Thorne

Shay:

           She growled as she looked through the closed window, the sound of revelry still coming from the dock across the street. Her sister frowned as she watched her from her bed, murmuring, “Come now, (Y/N). They’re not worth it.”

           (Y/N) turned her glare towards her sister, throwing the blankets from her body. “I don’t care.” She rolled out of the bed, griping, “This is the fifth night in a row they’ve thrown a drunken ramble. I’m absolutely sick of it.”

           Her sister stared as she walked to the closet, pulling on her overcoat. “Where are you going?”

           “I—” she started, hoping on a foot as she pulled on a pair of simple flats. “am going over there to give them a piece of my mind.”

           “I…I don’t think that’s a good idea, sister.” The other worried, pulling the covers to her chest. “Who knows what they might do?”

           (Y/N) stood straight and tied the overcoat around her waist. “Well I think sleep is a good idea and they’re disturbing it.” She crossed to the door and opened it. “I’ll be back in a few moments.”

***

           As she neared the ship, the party grew in noise, and so did her anger. Thousands of words crossed over her tongue and as she walked up the gangway, someone drunkenly stumbled over to her. ��Hey—” they began but she held up a palm, effectively silencing him as she stepped onto the deck.

           “Excuse me!” she called, but no one seemed to hear her. “Excuse! Me!” Again no one paid mind and in a flash of indignation, (Y/N) yanked a bottle of alcohol from a sailor, who certainly hear her then. She threw it to the deck, and it shattered, much like the stupor everyone was in as they turned to look at her. “All of you shut up!” The sailors stared in surprise at the young woman in her nightgown and overcoat. “Which one of you is the captain?”

           A man in a simple tunic and leather pants raised a hand, walking to meet her. “That’d be me.” He stuck out his hand. “Captain Shay Cormac. And you are?”

           (Y/N) slapped his hand away. “Who I am is none of your business.” Ignoring his shock, she thrust a finger to his chest and admonished, “You and your crew have been in port for almost a week and every night since you got here, you’ve been throwing a party until midnight. It stops now.”

           He raised an eyebrow, an amused smile crossing his lips as he quipped, “Oh?”

           She narrowed her eyes, hissing, “Yes. It does.” (Y/N) gestured to herself. “Some of us in New York actually have real jobs they have to attend to in the morning and your drunken debauchery is keeping us from our rest!” With each word, her voice had risen and thinking she possibly looked like a raving madwoman, she took a deep breath and slapped a pleasant expression on her face, politely requesting, “So…if you would, please wrap this carouse up and go to bed, so that the rest of Greenwich can go to bed as well.”

           The captain stared into her eyes, but (Y/N) was no coward and met his stare head on, sending a withering one back. After a moment, he huffed and raised a hand, motioning to the crew. “You heard the lady, lads. Party’s over.” Her jaw dropped in surprise, but she quickly snapped it shut as groans began to surround her. Shay looked to them with a glare. “Oi! Shut your mouths and do as I say.”

           A chorus of ‘aye captain’ and ‘aye sir’ echoed from them and (Y/N) cleared her throat, hiding her embarrassment by curling her arms across her chest as she remarked, “Well, I’m glad we’ve straightened this out.”

           He tipped his head in acknowledgement. “On behalf of the Morrigan and her crew, I apologize for our ‘drunken debauchery’.” Shay let out a chuckle at her expression and she turned away, starting towards the plank.

           “Apology accepted. Goodnight, Captain Cormac.”

           Before she could get far, he appeared in her peripheral. “Hold a moment, lass.” She halted and waited. “I can hardly let a young lady such as yourself walk home alone.”

           (Y/N) cocked an eyebrow and countered, “I am more than capable of protecting myself Captain. If you think I need a man’s protection, you are sorely mista—”

           “It’s not a matter of needing a man’s protection.” He interrupted. “It’s about doing what’s proper, and what’s not proper is allowing a young woman to walk home in the dead of night by herself.” Shay pressed a hand to his chest, asking, “Please, allow me to accompany you at least to your street so I can see you home safely.”

           She regarded him a moment with suspicion, then muttered, “If you try anything, I will kill you.”

           Shay snorted. “Duly noted.” They started down the walkway and after a few minutes, they arrived at (Y/N)’s street.

           “This is me.” She said.

           He nodded and held his hands behind him. “Aye then. I’ll watch you from here and then return to the Morrigan.”

           (Y/N) met his gaze. “Goodnight Captain Cormac.” He smiled warmly at her.

           “Goodnight lass.”

           As she walked off, she stopped and turned. “Captain?” His expression turned curious as he waited and she murmured, “My name is (Y/N).”

           Shay’s smile grew and he tipped his head. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance Miss (Y/N).”

Haytham:

           Haytham was tempted to tell her. Oh so tempted to tell her that the man she was giggling at would do nothing but sleep with her and leave her in the morning. Tempted as he was, he figured experience was the best teacher, and the next morning, she would learn better than to let her guard down so carelessly. He let out an inaudible sigh, thumb lightly tracing the handle of the mug he held. Somewhere downstairs, the door opened and closed and soon, footsteps followed, rapidly flying up the stairs. He felt some form of guard enter his system, but a woman, a few years younger than he, came around the corner.

           “(S/N) (L/N)!” The young girl on the man’s lap jumped and cast a wide-eyed glance to her.

           She scrambled out of the man’s grip and stood, hands wringing in front of her. “(Y/N)! Y-you’re here!”

           The woman stomped over and snatched her by her ear, ignoring the yelp of pain. “You’re damn right I’m here! What do you think you’re doing in a place like this?!”

           The girl had now raised to her tiptoes, voice twinged with pain as she replied, “I was just having a conversation!”

           “That is not what it looked like to me!”

           “I’m sorry!”

           The woman let her go and shoved her towards the stairs. “You get outside right this instance. Do you understand me?”

           The girl nodded rapidly and hurried down the stairs. “Yes! I understand!”

           When she was gone, (Y/N) turned to the man her sister had been sitting with. “You are a sick bastard.” She thrust a finger in the direction her sister had gone. “That girl is barely older than nineteen.” She pointed at him. “If I ever see you around her again, I will cut your cock off and shove it down your throat. Do I make myself clear?”

           The man’s mouth opened but an answer seemed to fail him and Haytham cut in, “Thomas understands.” He turned his steely gaze to the man. “Don’t you, Thomas?” The man nodded mutely.

           (Y/N) turned her attention to him. “Are you this man’s boss?” Haytham nodded. “It is not your place to do so, but I ask that if you see my sister coming around here, you send her straight home.”

           Seeming to have found his voice again, Thomas argued, “Why are you so protective? She’s grown.”

           She glowered at him and hissed, “I am all that girl has left and I made a promise to our parents on their deathbeds to watch after her.” She pointed at him. “I am not about to let her have her innocent heart trampled over by a man-whore like you.” Thomas’s jaw dropped, not expecting the face-slapping truth. “I know who you are. I know all about you and your gallivanting ways. You would use her and leave her and she…she is worth so much more than that.” (Y/N) felt herself become emotional, the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes as she finalized, “There is someone out there who will love her and take care of her and I am not going to let herself be fooled into believing that that someone is you.” She inhaled deeply and set her shoulders, warning, “You stay the hell away from her or else.” (Y/N) turned away without another word, silently descending the stairs.

***

           She stepped outside, immediately seeing the young girl in tears. Her heart hurt and in that moment she felt so regretful of her anger and reaction. Wordlessly, she handed her sister a handkerchief, watching her wipe her eyes. “Thank you, sissy.”

           (Y/N) gazed at her a moment, then took her into her arms, feeling (S/N) wrap her arms around her middle; she buried her face in (Y/N)’s shoulder and sniffled. “There, there, (S/N).” She pulled away and wiped the girl’s cheeks. “Come now, no more tears. It’s over, it’s done. Let’s go home.” She took her sister’s hand, gently tugging her along.

           They walked in silence a few minutes, then her sister said, “I was dropping off a letter to Miss Catherine and she asked me to go give the beer to them.”

           (Y/N) sighed at that. “She shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t your job to serve them.” She glanced at the younger girl. “Next time, just politely decline and leave.” Her sister nodded and she squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry for embarrassing you like that. I…didn’t mean to react like so.”

           “No…I understand why.” Her sister stopped and looked at her with a clarity. “You’ve sacrificed so much for me and here I am acting like a fool.”

           (Y/N) frowned and cupped her cheeks. “…(S/N)…”

           “Mummy and daddy would be so disappointed in me.” She lamented.

           She felt her heart drop. “No. No, don’t say that.” (Y/N) made her look at her. “Mother and father would never be disappointed in you. You were their everything. They loved you so much.” Tears welled in her sister’s eyes. “I’ve been working so much, and you’re left alone all the time.” (Y/N) let go of her face and took her hands, squeezing them. “I’ll ask Mister Lenoir for a night shift rather than the day, so I’ll be around you during the morning and afternoons.”

           (S/N) looked at her. “You will?”

           (Y/N) nodded. “Yes. And I’ll start looking for a better job where we can both go and work together so neither of us will have to worry.”

           Her sister frowned “But there aren’t many job openings for us. How will you find one let alone two?”

           Before she could respond, a rather eloquent voice sounded from behind. “Your sister has an excellent point.”

           (Y/N) jerked, moving (S/N) behind her back as she turned to face the owner of the English accent. It was the man from before, Thomas’s boss. “Can I help you?”

           “While you were putting Thomas in his place, I wasn’t able to introduce myself. Allow me to do so properly.” He held his hand out to her. “Haytham Kenway.”

           (Y/N) regarded him suspiciously but reached for his hand. “(Y/N) (L/N).”

           Haytham took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, causing her cheeks to warm despite her reservation. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance Miss (Y/N).”

           She pulled her hand away and stared at him. “Is there something you need, Mister Kenway?”

           “There is.” He looked at the two of them. “You’re looking for a job that will allow you to stay around one another, yes?”

           “And what is it to you?”

           Haytham cleared his throat and placed his hands behind his back. “The mansion I had contracted to build is now complete and while I’ve recently moved into it, I’m still looking for a staff to keep it in order. I’d be more than happy to offer you both jobs.”

           (Y/N)’s demeanor shifted instantly, turning from suspicion to straight awareness. “To what end?”

           He cocked an eyebrow, a bemused look crossing his face. “I don’t understand.”

           She tipped her chin up. “Birds of a feather flock together.”

           Haytham seemed to understand then, because he huffed a laugh and added, “Until the cat comes, Miss (Y/N).” His face turned solemn and he stated, “Don’t confuse me with Thomas. He and I are nothing alike. Never will be.”

           (Y/N) looked away, going silent for a moment, seeming to consider the situation, then she inquired, “Say that I—that we accept…” he nodded. “You won’t pull any tricks? You won’t bring that—that brute around?”

           Haytham placed a hand to his heart. “You have my word. Thomas won’t step foot on the property and no tricks will be pulled on either of you.” He looked them both over. “I’m in the business of bringing change to the world. It starts with the everyday people.”

           She scoffed. “I’m sure empires don’t form from two maids, but I’ll take your word for it.” (Y/N) stuck out her hand. “Shake on it.”

           “Like a man?” he amused but took her hand in his larger one.

           (Y/N) gripped it tight and pulled them closer, until they were nose to nose and countered, “Like a woman.”

[takaraphoenix]

💡and ⭐ for A God Among Men?

These questions are sooo interesting! 😍 I might spam you with some more 😇

(Also, I will answer your ask, but it is a surprisingly hard question, so might take some time 😅)

Thanks for playing, honey! Pls feel free to spam (and to take your time with the ask ;D)

A God Amon Men

OKAY SO! Let's see.

💡-What was the motivation behind the story?

Mh, good question. It mostly starts off with one spark for me. In this case, the idea of Percy as an ancient god. I blame Sally's name; I was thinking a lot about how Sally can be short for Salacia and how fun it'd be if Percy was the son of Neptune/Salacia, if he was a real god and then it snowballed from there to "oooh royal!Nico worshiping god!Percy would be SO PRETTY".

⭐- What’s a scene/paragraph you’re proud of?

The first scene of Percy butt-naked exploring the city in chapter one; been A While since I wrote this fic but I still distinctively remember having a lot of fun with that one, with Percy getting acquainted with the human world and his new human body. The next scene of him meeting Luke too, buuut that'd get too long to copy/paste here, so only this one goes here!

--

By the time Percy woke up, his legs felt like they were on fire, muscles aching. He was in some kind of stables, there were many pretty horses and piles of hay everywhere. He carefully crawled out of the heap of hay on the cart he was on and decided that it was time to keep exploring. Maybe find some place to recharge himself – there had to be water here somewhere.

"Wow...", whispered Percy in awe as he left the stables and saw the beauty outside.

A garden, unlike any he had ever seen. All green and filled with sunlight and colorful, fragile-looking flowers. Nothing like the corals Percy was used to. He gaped even more as he lifted his gaze and saw the palace rising behind the garden. Nothing like Neptune's palace under the sea, but sure gorgeous. And in front of the palace was a beautiful thing that was spitting water into the air to catch it again in a large bowl-thing. Percy had heard about those, but never seen one – considering that everything under the sea was filled with water. Smiling brightly, Percy paddled over to the fountain and climbed in. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back to enjoy the water on his face.

"By the gods, what do you think you're doing there?!"

Percy blinked and turned to look at the scandalized young woman with the honey-brown hair. "I'm taking a bath. The water is very nice! And the fountain is fun."

"B—But not in the royal fountain!", exclaimed the woman. "Grover! Grover, go call the guards!"

A brunette man with a goatee turned his attention toward them, making a funny yelping sound when he saw Percy. "Juniper, what is going on?! I—Is this another one who sneaked out of the prince's chambers? Should we really cause a ruckus about this...?"

"Oh dear", gasped Juniper and turned toward Percy. "Did you sneak out of Prince Nicodemos' room? Are you one... of his...? Are you drunk, is that why you're naked?"

Percy tilted his head curiously. He had gotten drunk once before when his cousin Dionysus was throwing one of his famous parties that had then gotten him grounded by uncle Zeus. But he was not currently drunk. What a strange thing to randomly ask someone. But apparently, swimming in a fountain was not a thing humans did. Duly noted. The two humans were busy hissing and debating among themselves, so Percy just sneaked out of the fountain and made his way out of the large garden. Time to continue exploring anyway, if he wanted to stay all day in water, he could have stayed home to begin with. No, no, he wanted to see human things. Do human things.

Writings Asks

[fablesrose]

Tell Me a Story 2

Description: With the first interaction with Chuck almost over and done with, Dean and Y/n have to figure out how the heck this is going to work. Some mafia business goes awry, but when has anything gone to plan?

Word count: 4,581 (guys this is over twice as long as the first part, this is ridiculous)

Pairing: cop!Dean x mafia!reader

Square filled: Moodboard

Warnings: knives, pain, a little blood

Masterlist ~ Bingo Masterlist

A/n: Part two also goes with @girl-next-door-writes​ Bingo challenge! Btw this whole fic is based on me wanting to write the first part of this chapter so there's that too.

“I don’t know sir, I’m not much of a story teller.”

“Come on Dean.”

“Tell me a story.”

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

“Well I’ll do my best.” Dean glanced at me, trying to decide how this would go. “If I remember right sweetheart, you called me?”

“Yeah!” I wracked my brain as quick as I could, “It was a wrong number call. I think I was trying to order take out.” Oh my gosh that was so stupid.

“But with me in a new city, a new job, I wanted to talk for a bit,” Dean squeezed my hand, “we decided to keep in touch and the rest is history!”

Chuck just looked at us for a bit, an unamused look on his face, “You’re right, you aren’t much of a story teller.”

Dean’s finger twitched against my hand, and I had to admit, that in this moment it was comforting. At least I was going to die next to a pretty nice dude.

“But whatever. You guys go claim some territory or something.”

Chuck seemed so complacent that it made a spark of anger ignite inside of me.

“Chuck, we’re not some teenage boy gang that spray paints wall-”

He had advanced towards me and had his hand roughly grabbing the base of my jaw, a few of his fingers pressing into my neck. He was just enough taller than me to wretch my face up painfully. I let out a grunt, but otherwise shut up.

“You are whatever I damn well tell you you are, Starling. Now go claim some territory.” He roughly shoved my face to let go. He quickly fixed his sleeves and patted Dean on the arm, “Sorry for touching the merchandise. You kids have fun now.” He turned on his heel and walked out of the building without a second thought.

There was a moment were nobody moved from the room. In the last few minutes it made it easy to forget that there were more than just Dean and I there. I wasn’t the highest ranking person in the room, but the list got messy sometimes.

“Alright, you heard the man,” I sighed. But still nobody moved, “I said let’s go!”

The members surrounding me rushed from their stationary positions to exit the building. I moved to follow but the tug on my arm reminded me that I was still holding Dean’s hand. I couldn’t decipher the look he had on his face, but it wasn’t a good one.

I gave him a soft nod with a squeeze of the hand before letting go and following the group. I heard his heavy footsteps behind me, but he made no effort in catching up to walk by my side.

“What a guy you got.”

I huffed, “Hello to you too Meg.”

“He’s hot. Ask if he’s got any hot friends he can hook me up with alright? Or you can just let me have him.” She nudged me a little in jest.

“Any other requests, Cockroach?”

She shoved me a bit harder, “Just don’t get in the way of my spray paint.”

I laughed as she ran up to the front of the pack, wanting to pick the spot to throw some paint.

I stuffed my hands in my pockets, slouching a bit as I followed the pack, wanting to be in my own thoughts.

A hand wrapping around my shoulders caused me to stiffen and straightened my back. I glanced to my side to find that Dean was the one walking next to me now. I wasn’t sure what he was doing, maybe trying to keep up the front that Chuck gave us. I relaxed a little bit, loosened my jaw, but my posture remained straight.

“You expect someone else?” Dean kept his eyes facing forward, not even glancing in my direction.

I mimicked his expression, “The boys tend to try and get handsy.”

He hummed and patted my shoulder, “So that didn’t go to plan.”

I turned to look at him and waited until he looked at me. I shook my head softly as if to say, “Not now, not here.”

He nodded, just as softly, as if to tell me that he understood.

We walked silently down the streets, just far enough behind the group to be separate, but close enough to see where they were going. I know I said we weren’t a teenage boy gang, but sometimes I did wonder. By their behavior alone, you would think they were some stupid seventeen year olds, roughing each other up, looking for trouble. Fortunately to some, they were intimidating enough from experience for people to not try and mess with them.

By the time Dean and I caught up, Meg had already gotten the spray paint out. She would never admit it to anyone out loud, but she enjoyed this. And she was good at it too. She ordered some of the boys around, some to help her with the graffiti, others to keep watch and to keep people away.

I took a second to think, I was lousy at painting (not that I didn’t try), and I figured this was as good a time as any to talk to Dean. Now the question was how to get alone.

The answer was I had to swallow my pride.

I turned my body towards Dean, one hand at the small of his back, the other gripping the front of his shirt, “Hey guys...” That got their attention. “You’ve got this covered, right?” I bit my lip a little, trying to sell it.

“If you don’t get out of here with him right now, I will shoot you myself,” Benny was leaning against a wall with a bemused smile on his face.

I shot him a wink and grabbed Dean’s hand to pull him away, “Duly noted Gaterson.”

“You sure do know how to pick ‘em lover boy!”

Dean let out a single laugh in response as I dragged him a block away into a secluded ally way.

We walked into a shadowy area to get as much seclusion as possible. I let go of his hand and leaned against the wall. I rubbed the heels of my hands into my eyes which pushed my head against the bricks behind me.

“Starling?”

I sighed, “Please don’t call me that.”

“Sorry, I just meant what does it mean, why do you have it?”

I lowered my hands to see him leaning on the wall across from me, “Maybe some other time. All you need to know is everyone has nicknames around here.”

He crossed his arms, “So is lover boy my nickname now?”

I huffed out a laugh, “Nah, they’ll call you all sorts of things until something sticks.”

There was a pause. We both knew we were dancing around the real subject I pulled us away for, but I wasn’t sure I knew what to do with it.

“So that didn’t go to plan.” Dean was braver than I was.

“Yeah no shit.” I banged my head against the bricks hard enough to make a sound and tried to dig into the cement with my shoe out of frustration. “To look on the bright side—which I loathe doing by the way—we’re not dead...So there’s that.”

“There is that… Got any suggestions?”

“Why is it that you’re supposed to be the professional and I’m making all the decisions?”

“I don’t know, with your performance and cool composure, I’d say that you’re the professional in this situation.”

I sighed and closed my eyes, “The only thing I can think to do is play along. If it gets too much we can fake a breakup...” This was getting so complicated.

“Fake a breakup? As far as I’m concerned, we’re not actually dating.” I could nearly hear the smirk on his face.

“Really Dean? Really?” He chuckled in response. “Since Chuck already knows that you’re a cop I think the best thing to do is for you to go to work. Be a police officer that’s on the payroll, but be a little more involved.”

“Whatever you say sweetheart.”

I heard voices approaching the ally way that sounded familiar. Then there was a harsh shh to quiet them down.

“Shit,” I looked at Dean, grabbed his jacket and pulled him closer, “You’re gonna have to kiss me.”

I stared at me dumbfoundedly, “What?”

“Look, they think we came over here to make out, if we don’t at least look like we’re making out they’re gonna be suspicious.”

He still looked shocked.

“Shit.” I didn’t want to kiss him on the spot either, so I did the next best thing to make it look like we were making out. I grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled his face down next to my neck slightly angling his body to cover me. The sudden motion caused him to catch himself with his hands against the wall on either side of me.

He wasn’t touching me, but I could feel his startled breathing against my neck. I ran my hand along the back of his neck and through his hair. It was extremely soft. I started making little noises and muttering Dean’s name. To sell the act, naturally.

Dean, once he recovered from his freezing shock started to brush the tip of his nose against my skin which startled me.

I heard a whistle from the end of the ally, “Yeah Ms. Starling! Get some!” The group rounded the corner to see us there. I flipped them off, making them laugh.

I gently tugged at the back of his collar to say it was okay to part now. As he straightened himself I caught his face and left a soft kiss on his cheek.

The group had started to disperse and go their separate ways since we were done putting on a show because they “caught” us.

Dean and I walked side by side out of the ally, by the time we got to the entrance our previous companions had all gone their separate ways.

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” I started to walk the way we came, back towards the wall Meg was working on.

“No, uh, that was smart of you,” he jogged to catch up with me and shoved his hands into his pockets.

The walk was silent around the block.

Eventually we arrived to see what Meg had done. She had out done herself once again. The wall was covered with a silhouette of an angel. It’s wings were burning as the figure fell. It was intricate as only Meg could be. There were a few lone charred feathers across the wall as well. In the bottom corner an F was painted as if it had fallen over.

“It’s beautiful. How’d she get if done so fast?” Dean stared at the wall in awe.

I nodded, agreeing with him, “I’m pretty sure she made a demon deal, but I don’t know.” I pointed at the painting, “This is just street art, but this,” I pointed at the F, “makes it Fallen territory. Watch for it.” I patted the wall where there wasn’t any paint, “Alright, I’ll call you if something comes up you need to be at. Any questions?”

“Nope, I guess I’ll see you around Miss Y/n.”

I side-eyed him with a smirk before I started to walk towards my apartment.

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

Something like a week passed. It was relatively quiet, me minding my own business. I thought it was almost too quiet when I got a call from Meg.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Letterboys are causing some trouble on 5th Avenue. You wanna bring your boy toy to help sort this out?”

I hummed, “I was just thinking that it was getting boring around here. I’ll give him a call and head over.”

“See you, Starling.”

“Uh huh.” I hung up on her and dialed up Dean. I was redirected to his voicemail.

“This is Dean, you know what to do.”

“Hey, we’ve got a territory dispute over on 5th Ave, if you’ve got time you can stop by.”

I left it at that and headed out to show some mafia wannabes that territories aren’t to be messed with. It didn’t take long to see Meg standing off against a guy, maybe twenty-three years old.

“Everyone paired off already?”

“Yeah, I think there’s a straggler that headed west though, you wanna pick him up?”

I slapped her shoulder, “Yeah, I got it.”

I heard her start to make small talk with her challenger, he didn’t stand a chance, “So, how’s the other side of town?”

I chuckled as I started heading West, checking all the nooks and crannies. I eventually came up on a kid walking down an ally, his hood was up, head down.

“Hey kid, you lookin’ for something?”

He looked up at me, “Just heading home ma’am.”

I nodded, “Alright, just, have you happened to see anyone running around with a pointy triangle-ish mark on their wrist?”

He didn’t respond, he just pulled out a switchblade. How cute.

“Look kid, you look too young for this, and I’m too old for this, so why don’t you head back where you came from.” As I spoke I pulled out my own, slightly larger, switchblade.

It seemed like he didn’t want to talk anymore because he started to charge at me.

I smiled, “Alright, have it your way.”

I dodged him at first, but then I started to cut him just enough to sting. That seemed to make him angry to the point where he caught me a couple times too. I started cutting a little bit deeper, hoping he would give up.

“Okay, you’re obviously out of your league, why don’t you go home?”

He made a jab at me, to which I grabbed his wrist to stop him. What I didn’t expect was for him to toss the blade into his other hand and slice a fairly deep cut into my side.

“Dammit!” I shoved him away onto the ground and pulled out my gun from the back of my waistband. I pointed it at him and stepped on the hand with the switchblade, “That’s enough of that.”

He spit some blood onto the cement from the split lip I gave him at some point, “Cheater!”

“Hey, you’re the idiot that brought a knife to a gun fight.”

A single bleep from a siren sounded off behind me. I turned my head to see an unmarked police vehicle  on the street.

“Ah, Detective Castiel, nice to see you!” I kept the gun pointed at the kid on the ground. He may not have been the smartest, but he was smart enough to not move.

“Y/n, if you shoot that kid I’m going to have to arrest you.” He didn’t sound amused as he walked around the car.

“I’m only going to shoot him if he tries to stab me again,” I stared at the kid pointedly, “got it?”

He nodded sadly.

I looked back at Cas, “You know, this kid was looking to cause some trouble, so really I’m doing your job for you.”

“Sure.”

“Is that a new trench coat? It looks nice.”

“It is, thank you. Are you going to let him go now?”

“I don’t know,” I looked back at the kid, “are you going to go home and not cause any trouble if I let you go?”

He nodded again.

I stopped pointing my gun at him and stepped off of his hand. He scrambled up and ran back the way he came.

I put my gun back into the back of my waistband, “Kids these days.” I popped my hip as I turned to fully face Cas for the first time tonight, “Chuck still wants you on the payroll, by the way.”

“And you already know what my answer is, Y/n,” he leaned back against the car behind him.

I sighed, “Yeah I do. You’re a good man and a good cop, Cas.”

He smiled, a rare occurrence, but I didn’t mention it. “You’re a good person too, Y/n.”

I laugh halfheartedly, “If you say so… If you say so.” I crossed my arms and felt the wet stickiness from my side, reminding me of my injury. “Anyway, Meg should be about a block east of here if you want to go say hi.”

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah I should see if you guys are causing any other trouble.”

I turned on my heel to head home and clean myself up, “Love you too Cas!”

I heard the car start and drive off behind me. I finally looked down at the cut to see how bad it was. I was wearing a black shirt, so the blood didn’t show, making it difficult to see just how bad it was. From what I could tell, it was a few inches across. I couldn’t tell just how deep it was, but the cut was positioned over my ribs, so it didn’t damage anything important. Luckily the kid’s knife was sharp, so it would heal faster as it didn’t tear the skin, unfortunately the kid’s knife was sharp, so it went deeper.

I pressed one hand against the wound while I walked back to my apartment. On the way my phone buzzed from a text.

Dean: Hey, sorry, I was called out. Did you still need some help over on 5th?

Me: No, it’s taken care of. I’m heading home now.

Dean: Okay.

I put my phone away and continued home. Eventually I was able to unlock my apartment, careful not to get blood anywhere. I headed straight to the bathroom, stripping off my shirt and tossing my phone on my table on the way. I held it to the cut while I dug around for the first aid kit and once I found it I tossed the soaked shirt into the sink.

I turned the water on, getting a washcloth wet. I started cleaning around the cut to get a better look at it, having to rinse out the washcloth a couple of times to prevent just smearing blood around.

It was still bleeding, but the pressure I put on it caused it to slow down. Once I got a good look at it I could tell it wasn’t going to cause too many problems other than taking a while to heal and being sore.

A knock came to the door. I was obviously not prepared for visitors, so I left it be. It was probably one of the neighbors, they liked to check in every once in a while. I hoped they would just move on. They knocked one more time before my phone rang in the other room. I really should have just turned it off.

Finally the phone stopped ringing, but not a moment later I heard the creek of my front door opening. I reached for my gun the was still in my pants.

“Y/n? It’s Dean, I’m coming in okay? Your door is open.”

I sighed in relief and placed my gun on the counter, “Okay.”

I heard some rustling of what I assumed was him taking his coat off and the click of the lock sliding into place.

I pulled out some cotton pads and soaked one in rubbing alcohol. I just looked at it for a second, not wanting to clean the wound, but knowing I had to. I closed my eyes and took a couple of deep breaths, preparing myself for the sting.

“I thought you said everything was taken care of.” I looked up to see Dean in the doorway. He had a hard look on his face.

“No, I said the problem was taken care of.” I relaxed against the back of the toilet, knowing that I had a second before I was going to clean my side.

He walked in and took the saturated cotton pad from my hand, “That looks like a problem to me.”

I tensed up in preparation for him to clean it once he started to approach me, “Something like that.”

He hesitated, “You want something to numb it?”

I let go of the breath I was holding, “Yeah, uh, whiskey’s in the kitchen.”

He stood up to go get it, leaving the cotton pad on the counter. He came back with the glass bottle and handed it to me. I took a couple of swigs before placing it on the counter next to the rest of the first aid supplies. I felt myself relax a little bit. I heard a clatter as I knocked something to the floor in the process though. I bent to pick it up, my body protesting a little bit, but I picked it up all the same.

“What’s that? On your back?”

I instantly knew he was talking about the black tattoo that was at the base of my neck, in a spot that my shirt would cover.

I turned so he could see them better, “They’re wings.”

He traced them for a moment before I turned back around, “You wanna get started on this please?”

He grabbed the cotton, “Yeah, of course. They’re beautiful.”

I hissed in response as he started to brush the alcohol along the wound. I clenched my jaw so hard it started to ache, I whimpered before biting down on my fist.

Dean paused and pulled on my hand, taking it from my mouth, “Hey, hey, focus on me. Why don’t you tell me a story, huh? Focus on something else.”

I was breathing heavily, “Like what.”

“What does Starling mean? Why’d you get that tattoo?”

“And why would you want to know that?”

He squeezed my hand, “Because you’re supposed to be my girlfriend, and I think I would know these things.” He smirked because he knew he backed me into a corner.

I groaned as he touched my side again, “Fine.” I took a deep breath, “As you already know everyone needs a nickname. I was called a lot of different things, some more… savory, appropriate than others. I don’t know why, but I always seemed to be favored by Nick, by Crowley. I got my name under Nick, but that doesn’t matter.”

I gasped as Dean pressed particularly deep to which he apologized.

“I was being bossy one day. Nobody was listening, I had just got back from an infiltration job. Someone, they’re not around anymore, they called me a stupid Starling, and it stuck.  Starlings in North America are considered an invasive species, terribly annoying, and unwanted.” Dean gave me a break to get a new cotton pad to finish up, “Tattoo means the same once something is solidified, you get a tattoo representing your name and a Fallen symbol.” I pulled my ear forward and showed Dean the fallen F tattooed behind it, just like the one next to the angel Meg painted.

“Well, I think they look like angel wings.” Dean came back and started cleaning the last little corner and around the edge.

“Really? Black angel wings?” I tried not to flinch as he caught the edge a little roughly.

“Yeah, I do, Angel.” He threw away the cotton with a small smile on his face.

I laughed, “Okay, yeah, sure.”

Dean looked at the wound closely, “I think I’m gonna have to stitch it up, just so it’ll heal faster.”

“You know how to do that?” I gestured to the first aid kit, knowing that stitching supplies were there, I had to do some myself every once in a while.

“I’m decent.” He started sterilizing the needle with a lighter he had in his pocket before cooling it off with the rubbing alcohol. “So how’d you get this in the first place?”

The stitching process was still painful, but not as bad as the cleaning. “Letterboys were roaming our side of town, looking for trouble.”

“Letterboys?”

I snorted, “They call themselves Lettermen, don’t ask me why, I have no idea. Really, they’re gang wannabes, so we call them Letterboys.”

Dean tugged at the needle to tighten a stitch, “Uh, huh. And if they’re so pathetic why’d you get this thing?”

I huffed out a laugh, “This idiot brought a knife to a gun fight and I played along for a little too long.”

“Ah, makes total sense.”

“So, how was work in a new city?” I wiped around my eyes to make sure I didn’t have any tears showing.

“Uh, it was alright,” he tied off the last stitch, “transfer information is still being worked out, but they’re thinking about pairing me up with this Detective Castiel or whatever.”

I smiled, “That’ll be good. Cas is a good guy. I actually saw him tonight.”

“Was that before or after you got injured?”

“After.”

Dean looked at me skeptically, “If he’s such a good guy, why didn’t he take you to the doctor or something? Is he in with Chuck?”

“Nah, it was dark, I was wearing that black shirt, I didn’t let him notice. And no, he’s the farthest person from Chuck you could get. He’s tried to take Chuck down a couple of times actually, gotten close too. That’s why Chuck desperately wants him to join, but Cas has the same answer every time, not in his right mind would he ever join.”

“So he’s trustworthy,” Dean nodded, satisfied.

“To an extent, yes.” I examined his handiwork, I was impressed. “You can’t tell him you’re into this though, not that you’re undercover, not that you know me. He’s already too deep into this and if he changes his behavior, thinking there’s a chance he can help you take Chuck down? Chuck will get suspicious and everything will fall apart, okay?”

“Understood.”

I stood up, testing the stitches, “Good.” I started cleaning up the counter and putting stuff away when Dean stopped me and started cleaning up himself. “Thanks,” I headed towards my bedroom and grabbed a new shirt to throw on. I groaned involuntarily when my stitches stretched as I pulled it over my head.

“You okay in there?” Dean asked from the bathroom.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I changed into some sweatpants while I was there.

“Do you wanna keep this or...” He trailed off as I walked out in a shirt that looked very similar to the one in the sink.

“Nah, I’ll just toss it,” I pulled at the hem of my shirt, “these are pretty cheap.” I wrung out the shirt as best I could and walked into the kitchen to throw it away, “The bathroom was just in the opposite direction of my gross trash.” I washed my hands, “Thank you, can I get you anything?”

“Another fake make-out session?”

I snorted, “And why would you ever want that?”

“Because it was hot.” Dean had a teasing smirk on his face as he followed my example. “But for real, do you have a beer Angel?”

I reached into the fridge to grab us some, “You’re serious about calling me that?”

He popped it open easily, “Yeah, I think it’s cute.”

I shook my head and walked to my couch with a beer in hand and curled up into the side, “So.” I gestured for Dean to join me, “What was so important that you knocked on my door twice, called me, and then walked into my apartment anyway?”

He groaned in embarrassment, “Well, it’s not important anymore…”

I laughed, “Oh come on Dean, tell me a story.”

Best Buds: @kitkatd7​ @snarky--starky​ @confetti-its-an-imagine-blog @kaogasm ​

Dean: @akshi8278​ @msmarvelouswinchester

[willowaudreykeyes]

Okay: I’ve watched it 4 times and here’s the things about the episode that I find interesting. Or that I’m looking too much into. You guys can all decide because idk.

- Roman seems to make alliterations when he's shocked? He's done it before, but now he's done it again and when he's surprised that Thomas 'lied' or 'tricked' the ticket person.

- Virgil has resting disappointed face even as he eats popcorn.

- Roman is very dramatic about the age thing. "He's in his thirties, he may as well be in his sixties." "Can't think of new excuses quick enough in his old age."

- "I love you" is very big words. Do not use them, or forget them, lightly around Virgil.

- Have they always been on his back so much about lying, or was it only after Janus was introduced?

- Possibility: Romans eyes actually change into hearts when cute guy appears?

- Also: Roman goes into Shakespearean when cute guy appears.

- Roman is so optimistic when it comes to love! But not about other Sides? He's rather pessimistic when it came to Virge (at the beginning) and Janus. And kinda Remus too.

- Roman has used "We don't know if he's not gay" more times then the three can count.

- Pins equals introverts way of talking apparently. I guess that makes sense, since there’s pins for almost every kind of hobby, and Virgil knows this too.

- Roman sounds rather happy when they found out that Nico likes Paramore. Supporting his emo friend and his hobbies right there.

- “The Nightmare Before Christmas” is and will always be a Prinxiety thing. Did you see those star eyes Roman gave? And how happy-surprised Virge was?

- Virgil does think about romance too. “You can live like Jack and Sally, if you want.” Kind of cute.

- Virgil has eyes like a damn hawk. He saw those pins and went full on x10 zoom on them.

- Roman’s got some adorable music happening when more clues appear.

- Sticker/Button System must be followed or Virge no happy.

- Roman is almost as good as Patton with puns, except he has to explain it. Has he done that before? I feel like he has. I feel like this is a thing but I’m not sure.

- Roman and Virgil have about the same wavelength when it came to the creepy stalking-ish part. They both cringe when Thomas goes off to the side.

- If you use a word at the end of a sentence that sounds like a name at Roman, he thinks you got his name wrong. He did it at some other point I can’t remember when but he does this. Kind of feels like a autism and/or ADHD trait? (I know I for sure get confused sometimes)

- “Great... he’s gay” “Great indeed...” “GREAT INDEED” I love them. Just gonna say that again.

- Roman has this big thing about his name and it doesn’t seem like its a thing he’s faking? He seems genuinely confused. The one that’s two above mentions it, and the way he spelt it at the trial? And how he seemed very defensive when Janus spelt it wrong? This is a thing.

- Virgil is a self-proclaimed expert of anti-social etiquette and I say he deserves that title. 

- Virgil also really likes non-verbal ways of communicating. 

- Roman does the thing where you put your two pointer fingers together and its adorable.

- Fast head nod of agreement coming from Roman here. Over dramticness? Or actual quirk?

- Roman very much freaks out when flirting goes wrong. Not just a Virgil thing. 

- Virgil be scaring Thomas with zero regrets when he lost his test that the Universe gave him.

- Virgil be very glad to admit when he’s panicking. He also has admitted when he’s anxious in the past. He knows it, acknowledges it, makes Thomas and the others deal with it because dealing with it isn’t in the job description.

- Roman’s fine with compromise! Virgil gives an idea that attempts to help the romance part, Roman’s not 100% happy but rolls with it. Besties right here (even if they don’t know it). He does have a limit though.

- Nicknames are forever with Roman.

- Virgil is on Thomas’ left side, the more ‘thinky’ side of the brain. Roman is on the right, the more ‘feely’ side of the brain. It’s kind of more obvious in the scene where they grab Thomas a lot.

- Roman really slips with his feelings when he’s stressed. He says stuff that’s usually more about his self-worth. “You’re making a mistake.” “If I am, I’ll add it to the list.” That was said under a lot of stress and frustration. He’s done it before and he’s done it again; except now they don’t address it and it’s just a passing sentence.

- pLaNt

- Virgil would rather embarrass Thomas by making him talk to a stranger, instead of the guy that he thinks is cute? I mean, its very embarrassing by the end of it and Virge barely seems affected by it.

- And now Virgil is compromising. He works with Roman to make sure that Thomas looks okay (the “check your teeth” line).

- idk wtf the sty’s thing is about. Weirdly placed anxiety over it? Or something?

- Roman is very impulsive and basically throws Thomas into the trash can when a bad thing happens in front of a lot of people. Ego was definitely hurt there. Why hide instead of run away? Did Virgil sorta influence that?

- Plans help anxiety. Pretty sure they’ve covered that topic before, but lets just do a recap in this I guess.

- Virgil is half the people on this platform “Cyberstalking... but real life”. I mean, everyone makes a metaphor that has an actual word behind it sometimes. 

- “Try Speaking from the heart” ... I expected Patton, but there has been moments before where a Side who is expected to be there, isn’t there. Logan showed this in “Moving On” when he physically left but he never REALLY left. Patton showing up to add his own words to this may have been too much for him? Or he thought it would be for the others?

- Ah crap here’s the monologue-

- First off, it’s very honest. Full on honesty. With no holding back. And it really hit the feels; but is it realistic though? (Genuinely asking I’ve never been in that kind of situation)

- Very rambly too “I honestly don’t know what I’m doing at the mall today. I don’t know what I was looking for... I guess that answers my question- The mall is where you go when you want something but you don’t know what it is because the mall has everything.” Very rambly, very nervous, very honest.

- Roman and Virgil are very... in awe? Shocked? What is this? Roman looks so contemplative as he looks at himself in the mirror and I wanna be in his brain and know what he’s thinking.

- “I don’t know a lot about anything. Least of all, myself.” Okay, Janus just pulled all the way away for a full minute and forty-eight seconds (this is 99% accurate) to just let Thomas talk and feel didn’t he? This is just complete honesty.

- Anyone would be awkward with the guy coming out of that stall. I’m awkward thinking about it and seeing it again. Moving on-

- “I gotta stop wooing strangers in bathrooms” just a 3000 word fic of at least one other time that he’s done this and I will be yours forever

- Virgil is a dramatic emo who dislikes lying. Crossed arms, waiting outside for him, looks up when he says “you know what I meant”- They’re all part of an actor your at least a LITTLE dramatic.

- Virgil has a big thing about lies and relationships. This has to do with him and Janus’ relationship somehow- It’s about Thomas’ relationships with friends and his romantic life too. He didn’t seem as annoyed about them in the ‘Lies’ song way back when which didn’t mention lying about any type of relationship.

- “Can’t have true love if the relationship isn’t built on truth.” Is this what he was thinking about in the bathroom? Its a cute line either way. 

- Okay, Roman and Janus have some kind of... something. Cause a lot of Roman’s talks about his goals for Thomas pushes Thomas into relying on Janus until Roman realises that it’s morally bad OR (as seen in the talk after the bathroom scene) when he realises that it’ll be bad for Thomas in the long run.

- “Will (D)deceit continue to be the answer to all of your problems? Is that fair to him?” HIM WHO!? Janus or Nico!? Both!? AHHHH! This could mean so much in any direction you throw it but I can’t find the dang words!! “No, he’s better off without me.” This could just be Thomas misunderstanding the ‘him’ Virgil means too or he does understand idk-

- “I was afraid you left!” *INSERT TWO SIDES SCREAMING HERE* Hahaha he’s literally screaming on the inside omg-

- “He fears things too!?” Virgil doesn’t understand how people work when he’s worked up. Duly noted.

- Roman and Virgil equals A Gay Panic

- Thomas’ first thought when panicked is to ask the guy, that he thinks is cute and has been trying to get the attention of for the last while, ‘what is wrong with you?’ ... 10/10 Thomathy

-  .Roman seems... a little resigned that another ‘chance at happiness’ is walking away? I mean, he’s super sad but resigned to his fate. That’s sad as hell. He’s USED TO THIS and I don’t like that 😢

- Virgil’s scene where he looks between, NOT Thomas, but Nico and Roman, is really well done and filled with... a lot. He psyches himself up first of, taking in quick breaths before pushing Thomas, obviously afraid but still doing it anyway. And the look he gives a very resigned Roman looks like its both guilt and sadness. Could just be me thinking that he has a ‘this is my fault’ thing.

- Full on surprise on Roman’s face when Virgil pushes Thomas. No one was expecting that.

- Carrots. The carrots brought them together. Thomas... you don’t have to eat carrots, but at least say ONCE that they aren’t all bad.

- “I like songs” you’ve also written some and sung x5 as many but okay, go with that I guess. (Is this to not brag about being a singer right away? I guess so?)

- If Nico was writing about something that happened midway through his visit to the food court, what was he writing about before that? Did he have nothing until Thomas tripped over the bin?

- “I tend to waste a lot of opportunities in my life” Then cuts to Virgil. Ouch. Direct hit on Virge...

- BRAVERY. (i’ll get back to this-)

- “Shut up, emo.” No complicated nicknames; just the easy picking. Very cute. Very yes. Roman your a sap and its great.

- When Thomas is telling Roman to ‘get out’, he sinks down and is he biting his thumb? He’s still excited. And I’m adding ‘biting’ to his list of stims.

- Virgil claps his hands.  Roman and Virgil both cover their mouths. Both yell. Manic hand movements. Virgil gets Thomas to walks around and flappy hands. (And the nervous pee too I guess?)

- OKAY. EYESHADOW. Big thing, also new. I believe that it may be him ‘growing’ as a Side. First, he believed that he was JUST Thomas’ anxiety. Then comes to term with being more then that, which helps him become a ‘Light Side’. And now, he’s learnt that ‘fear’ and ‘bravery’ can both be present at the same time and is now growing from that as well. So, his back and forth between black and purple could mean a back and forth of the ‘fear’ and ‘bravery’ aspects. Thomas about to send a bad tweet? Black. Optimistic about things ‘never being the same again’? Purple. Thomas bringing up that they just met? Black. Its a promising start? Purple again.  Purple when something optimistic, its purple. Pessimistic, its black. There’s a thing happening there.

- And also, lots of smiley Virgil when he goes purple. Brave enough to smile? Or optimistic enough to be truly happy about it?

- “Join me! No thinking!” Okay, all the ‘Roman Himbo’ stans have already gone nuts over this so I’ll keep going XD

- Roman’s first date idea is to go to France immediately and I love him for being so honestly over-the-top

- Dogs are the demons of anxiety its now a fact. They even bring out the Tempest Tongue, despite hearing the dog “thirty times a day”.

- Do not tell Virgil to relax. Black eyeshadow. Very on brand tbh. He does not relax and you should know this by now Roman.

All in all; I love them and the entire episode ❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Resentment Ch. 1 (Ethan x MC)

Summary: After 2 months of not seeing each other, Ethan and Naomi do not have a pleasant reunion.

A/N: So...I’ve been writing this for the past 2 weeks. Open Heart 2 is ripe with angst and untapped drama. Tbh, this is my 5th draft, and I kept deleting and writing, and deleting and re-writing this, and I had to step away multiple times, as this was probably be one of my more draining fics to write. But anyway, if you’re still reading this long winded ass note, thank you lol. And enjoy, as always!

Tags: @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @choicesobsessedd @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @perriewinklenerdie @doroshi-desu @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @lapisreviewsstuff @akacalliope @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @the-soot-sprite @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @dr-nancy-house @adrian-motherfucking-raines

~v~

Seeing Ethan Ramsey again nearly knocked the wind out of her. It feels like she saw a ghost. But here’s here, at Donahue’s, strolling through the garden as if this is any other night. As if he didn’t disappear off of the face of the earth for 2 months.

Naomi didn’t plan on having such a visceral reaction to seeing him, but she has little to no control over her body these days. Her heart speeds up, beating twice as fast, a cold sweat breaks out, starting at her forehead, and there’s the flip of her stomach and unmistakable taste of bile rising in her throat.

‘Do not throw up,’ she silently begs herself. ‘Do not throw up. Please, keep it together, Valentine.’

The chant doesn’t work, the nausea hitting her hard, like a wave crashing against the shore. She jumps out of her seat, ignoring the looks of confusion from her friends, and makes a beeline to the restroom, pushing past the other patrons at the bar. She barely makes it into a stall before she’s on her knees, emptying the contents of her stomach into a dirty public toilet.

Naomi isn’t sure how long she’s like this, embarrassingly clutching the toilet, but a knock at the stall door breaks her out of her trance. “It’s occupied!”

“It’s Sienna,” the voice on the other side says softly. “Can I come in?”

“Yes.”

The door swings open slowly and Sienna attempts to squeeze into the small space. It’s a tight squeeze, but she manages to make it work.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Naomi mumbles weakly. “You didn’t have to follow me.”

“Yes I did,” Sienna argues. She helps Naomi to her feet and pulls at the roll of cheap toilet paper. She bunches it up and wipes the corner of Naomi’s mouth. “You’re as pale as a ghost.”

“I feel like I’ve just seen one,” Naomi quips back. “Let’s just say I did not expect to see Dr. Ramsey here tonight.”

“You didn’t know he was coming back?” Sienna asks. “I thought you two were close.”

Naomi thought they were close too. But she got ghosted. It was jarring, going from sleeping with Ethan and openly flirting with him, to him being her boss again, to him disappearing and cutting off all communication within a span of 3 days. “I thought we were too.”

“How do you think it’ll be, working with him tomorrow?”

“I have no idea what to expect,” Naomi replies honestly. “Hopefully the rest of the team is nice.”

Sienna lifts Naomi up, helping her stand on her feet again. They exit the stall and Naomi washes her hands furiously like she’s about to perform surgery.

They walk out of the bathroom, Sienna with a protective arm around her friend’s waist. The rest of their friends are now inside, at their usual booth.

They all stare at Naomi, and she hates it. Now they’re probably going to think of her as the weirdo who threw up upon seeing her boss (an ex-lover, though not everyone is privy to that information).

“You just missed the wildest shit,” Bryce says, almost breathless. “Dr. Ramsey and Dr. Thorne nearly got into a fight!”

That was the last thing Naomi expected to hear. “What?”

“Thorne was being a real creep, and he tried to feel up some young girl. He touched her and she broke his hand!” Elijah exclaims. “He got loud and rowdy, he pushed her down, and Ethan came out of nowhere, swooping in like freaking Batman. I thought he was going to snap Thorne’s neck at one point.”

“Where is the girl?” Naomi asks. 

“She ran out of here as soon as she could.”

“I hope she’s okay,” Naomi murmurs, mostly to herself.

“Are you okay?” Bryce asks. “I’ve never seen you get sick before.”

“Whatever virus is fermenting in your body, please keep it away from me,” Jackie says, not even giving Naomi the chance to respond.

“Jackie!” Sienna tsks in annoyance. “Have some compassion.”

“She’s either drunk or it’s the stomach flu,” Jackie says with a shrug. “She’ll survive a little teasing.”

“It’s okay, Sienna,” Naomi insists. She loves her friend’s protective nature, but it really isn’t necessary. “You don’t have to go into mother hen mode.”

“Fine. But I’m making you soup after work tomorrow.”

“Deal.”

Reggie announces last call, and the gang starts talking about their post-bar plans. Be it getting food, going downtown, or just going home. Naomi drowns out the conversation as her eyes settle onto Ethan. His back is turned to her and Naomi notices that he’s the only one left at the bar while Reggie is cleaning up.

“Does last call not apply to you?” Naomi asks, getting his attention.

“Reggie and I go way back. We have an arrangement,” Ethan says simply.

“An arrangement.” Naomi rolls her eyes as she repeats the words. “Is that what you call a friendship?”

“I don’t have friends. But...I wouldn’t mind you joining me if you were so inclined.”

Naomi weighs her options. She can go home and put this night behind her, or she can stay out with Ethan. And actually talk to him.

She turns back to her friends. “You guys go on ahead. I want to check in about tomorrow with Dr. Ramsey.”

She doesn’t believe that excuse for one second. And if her friends don’t believe it either, they don’t say anything. Sienna just tells her to not stay out too late, before they all leave, going their separate ways.

Once they’re gone, Naomi joins Ethan at the bar. She looks at, really looks at him. He’s still the same handsome guy, just more...rugged. He’s much more tan than she remembers, it looks like he’s gained weight—muscle, not fat—and he’s sporting an entirely new look.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a brand new Ethan Ramsey,” she muses.

Ethan looks down at his green jacket, a vast departure from the sweaters and button ups he usually wears.

“This jacket’s been through a lot with me,” he explains, toying with the sleeve.

“I like it.”

She doesn’t miss the way he perks up at the compliment, almost as if he was hoping she’d say something. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Duly noted. And the beard?”

Ethan doesn’t know why he needs her stamp of approval so badly, but the validation she gives him feels nice. He likes to know that she thinks he looks good.

“It looks good on you,” Naomi answers honestly. Ethan scratches the beard, his fingers flying towards it unconsciously at her words. He nods, soaking in her praise.

“I’ve gotten used to it.”

Naomi looks around as an almost awkward silence settles between the two of them. She’s now actively aware of the fact that it’s just the two of them, alone.

“Why don’t we move this outside?” Ethan suggests, some of the tension dissipating. “It’ll be winter before we know it. Might as well enjoy the weather while we can. You want something to drink?”

Naomi’s stomach flips at the mention of alcohol. “You know what I want? A cup of ice water.”

Ethan’s eyebrow quirks up at the answer. They’re in a bar and she wants...water? He shrugs but heads behind the bar, nonetheless. Grabbing a Pilsner glass, he fills it to the top with ice and he also finds a bottle of water. He hands them off to Naomi. “For you.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” They make their way outside. It’s so quiet now that everyone is gone. It feels peaceful. Ethan drops down in a chair near the fire pit and Naomi joins.

“I can see why you like it here.”

“Because nobody’s annoying me?” Ethan jokes.

“More or less,” Naomi concedes. “It’s peaceful.” Ethan nods in agreement. “So...how was it, being in the Amazon?”

“It was quite the experience. It kept me on my toes.”

“Fighting an epidemic in a different country sounds...thrilling. And scary. You’re brave for doing it.”

Ethan snorts. Naomi always manages to see the best in him, even when he doesn’t deserve it. “That wasn’t bravery.”

Naomi looks down at her lap. “You didn’t keep in touch. Two whole months without any form of communication seems extreme, don’t you think? Especially after everything that’s happened with us?”

“Everything that happened between us is exactly why I didn’t contact you.”

“192,” Naomi says. 

“Huh?”

“192. That’s how many times I’ve called you in the past 2 months. I also sent 75 texts and 30 emails. You could have responded to at least one of those.”

Hearing the numbers out loud makes Naomi feel ridiculous, like a stalker. And Ethan just feels...awful. He remembers his chest going tight every time he saw her name flash across his screen. He remembers the restraint it took him to not call her back, or reach out in any way. He needed to stay away. It was for the best, for both of them.

“Naomi, if we’re going to work together on the diagnostics team, we need a fresh start. Your professional development is too important to jeopardize it with whatever...what is was that we had.”

Ethan probably would’ve been better off taking this glass of ice water and throwing it in her face. The callousness in his voice chilled her to the core. “That’s how you’d describe it? As ‘whatever’?”

Ethan sighs heavily. Of course his relationship with the younger woman meant something to him, but if he was going to be her boss, they needed boundaries. There had to be a line.

“Pouring my heart out to you on multiple occasions and vice versa, secretly saving our boss’s life, you bringing Mrs. Martinez’s son to my ethics hearing, the sex, it all just culminates to a...whatever. What? Is what we went through just a casual experience in the life of Ethan Ramsey?”

“Of course not, but Naomi, I can’t go down this road with you again. We need to have a reset if things are going to work.”

She doesn’t know why the word ‘reset’ makes her laugh, but it does. She laughs, hard, almost maniacally, until her sides hurt and she can barely breathe. Ethan says nothing, staring at her in confusion.

“You know what, Ethan? Fuck you.”

That catches him off guard. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me loud and clear. Fuck. You. You’re a coward. And a runner. You run at the slightest hint of something being hard, or if you have to face your own emotions and vulnerabilities. You run off, drinking yourself silly and keeping your head in the sand, and then you come waltzing back as if nothing happened, but guess what? Life still happens. There is no reset, no do-overs, no pauses. Time still moves forward.”

Tears prick the corners of her eyes and she wills herself to not cry in front of him. He doesn’t deserve any more of her vulnerability. She doesn’t know why it hurts so much, but it does. The idea of him moving through life as if what they shared was minuscule and insignificant burns. It causes a sharp ache in her chest she didn’t realize she had the capacity to feel.

“While you were in South America, ignoring the almost 400 pieces of correspondence I sent, I was still here, still dealing with shit, still caring about you, worrying about you and your safety every fucking day. I don’t have the luxury of turning my feelings on and off whenever I see fit, and I don’t get to delude myself into thinking I can turn back time.”

How many times are they going to play this game before she realizes she’s always going to be the loser? She and Ethan get close, he rejects her but leaves just enough space and opportunity to keep her hanging on.

Naomi wraps her arms around her midsection and slightly curls into herself. Not even her own embrace is soothing at this point. The rejection stings, and she feels...stupid. Why does she keep holding out hope for Ethan, hoping he’ll want her the same way she wants him? Why does she keep coming back, waiting diligently like a little puppy, nipping at his ankles for the slightest bit of attention? Maybe she’s just a glutton for pain.

“If you want to hit the reset button, you can do it by yourself. I’m not playing that game with you.” Naomi abruptly stands up, clutching onto the back of her chair for stability. “Goodnight.”

Panic settles in his chest. He doesn’t want things with her to end like this, with her hating him. He wants her to stay. He wants to take back everything he just said. “Naomi, I–”

“Save it!” Whatever he’s about to say, whatever line it is that’ll feed her just enough false hope to keep hanging on, she doesn’t want to hear it.

After gathering her belongings, she turns on her heel, looking for the exit. Her entire body is rigid, defensive and ready to strike at any given moment, and she feels like she’s going to throw up again, which is something she truly does not have time for.

She’s fully prepared to walk away from him with whatever shred of dignity she still has, but she stops herself. She turns around, facing Ethan again.

“I called you a lot while you were gone. I left countless voicemails until your mailbox was completely full. Did you listen to any of them?”

“I haven’t listened.” Ethan feels ashamed by the answer, and he refuses to meet her big doe eyes, opting to look at the ground.

Naomi doesn’t dwell on the answer. She shakes off the hurt, and powers through.

“Last Wednesday, at 5:21 am, I called. You obviously didn’t answer, and I left a message. I’ll set the scene for you because I’ll never forget the moment. I was sitting in my bathtub, crying, almost hysterically. It was the type of crying that gets Meryl Streep and Viola Davis Oscar nominations, the kind that makes you feel sick to your stomach. But I live with 3 other people, so I had to sob into a face towel until the worst of it passed. And then I called you. Logically, I knew you probably weren’t going to answer, but I figured one last Hail Mary couldn’t hurt so I did it anyway. 

In the voicemail, I practically begged you to talk to me. To answer at least one of my calls. It was so...desperate. And pitiful. The old Naomi would rather get buried alive than to ever be so emotionally available and needy, but I didn’t care. In that moment, I needed you, I needed solace that I thought only you could give me, but I know now that it won’t happen. You’re way too emotionally stunted and unavailable.”

She inhales, something shaky and full of vulnerability, and every bone in her body is screaming out to just shut the fuck up and turn away.

“But you didn’t answer, you didn’t acknowledge it, and I was just absolutely gutted,” Naomi continues. “Because had you answered that call, or called me back some time that day, I would’ve told you that I’m pregnant.”

With that confession, Naomi visibly deflates. It feels like a crushing weight has been lifted off of her chest.

But Ethan feels the exact opposite. Unable to move, he gapes at Naomi. “You-you’re what?”

“Pregnant. 9 weeks, 5 days. It’s the size of an olive at this point, and before you ask, yes, it’s yours.”

Paternity hadn’t even crossed his mind at this point. He’s still stuck on the fact that she’s pregnant. 

“So while it hurts to know what you want a reset, and to pretend we didn’t share anything, it is also literally impossible to do so,” Naomi says with a humorless chuckle. “But don’t worry, I’ve received the message loud and clear. See you at work tomorrow, Doctor. Oh, and congratulations.”

Ethan watches as she leaves, even though he calls her name, asking her to stay. His chest feels tight like someone is squeezing him from the inside, and he struggles to inhale. The revelation stifles him, and he can’t get his bearings.

Unable to do much else, Ethan falls back into his chair. Despite trying his damnedest to get things back on track, it feels as if he’s made everything so much worse.