#just one chapter for now... I am planning... several more... *eyes emoji*

[darbyoakana]

An Overlord's Tail - Chapter 8

An Overlords Tail Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

Summary: Alastor X reader, F/M. Vox has convinced himself he can win you over.

Warnings: Kidnapping, violence, Val is a fucking dick

Other Notes: none

____________________________________________

Chapter 8: Bonding Experience

Things had gone back to normal for the most part. Interactions between you and Alastor were taken slowly. The usual day-to-day was the same. As for more intimate experiences, you waited for him to initiate. There was more affection in his actions, little things. His hand on the small of your back, subtle glances. You were willing to go at whatever pace he wanted, you were just happy to be with him and that he wasn’t avoiding you anymore. The rest of the staff was also grateful, Alastor was now in a good mood most of the time.

The party had been a topic of conversation for over a week. It seemed like everyone had a great evening. You were out on some errands and on the way back to the hotel you checked your phone. Charlie had asked if you’d stop by the stationary shop to pick up thank you cards to send to the party guests, an order was ready for her. You were in the middle of texting her to let her know you didn’t mind picking them up for her on your way home, your phone blowing up with heart and smiley emojis from Charlie when you were interrupted. 

A van pulled up next to you, the door thrashed open and two men jumped out. One grabbed you from the back, arms around the chest. You dropped your phone. You used the leverage to throw your legs up and kick the other man in the nuts. Once your feet were on the ground again you whacked the man holding you in the face with the back of your skull several times before he dropped you. You ran, thinking you were in the clear. But just as you were passing the back of the van, a hand reached out. Electricity overwhelmed your body and you slumped in Vox’s arms. 

“Sorry babe,” he picked you up and put you in the van. Glancing at his lackeys he scoffed. “Haha oh shit, she beat the crap out of you, how fuckin’ pathetic! What do I even pay you for?” 

You woke tied to a chair in Vox’s penthouse. You groaned as your eyes refocused. You were in a familiar living room between the two sofas, facing the coffee table and large windows. Valentino was on one couch smoking, scrolling on his phone. Plumes of pink smoke wafted around. Vox approached you, realizing you were awake.

“Hey babe…” he said softly. “Sorry about all that. It should have been a simple stress-free snatch-and-grab. But that's my girl, huh? Always complicating things.” 

“I am not your girl,” you growled. 

“Aw, come on now. Be open-minded. I went to all this trouble to get you,” he leaned over to be level with your face. “I had to be very patient and you know that’s not one of my virtues. Boy oh boy, you really don’t leave the hotel often do you?” 

“Fuck. Off.” 

“Oh doll, I’ve missed you,” he moved a piece of your hair out of your face. “And your sassy little mouth.” 

“Is that all you miss about her mouth?” Valentino asked. He waves his fingers at you. “Hola, chica.”

You struggled against the ropes holding you down. 

“I guess I’ll hear you out, not like I have a lot of options here.”

“See! There you go! That’s the right attitude!” 

“Well spit it out, what half-cocked plan did you come up with?” you spat. “Does this actually have anything to do with me? Or is this about Alastor?” 

“That’s a really good point,” Valentino said.  

“Val, not helping,” Vox said. “No. If this had to do with him don’t you think he’d be sitting here instead of you?” 

“No,” you laughed. “If you could, you would have already.” 

“Also another valid point,” Val stated. 

“Okay, enough from both of you!” Vox yelled. 

“You have a limited amount of time here, I suggest you get moving.” 

“He only cares about himself.” Vox laughed. “What, you think he’s going to come save you?” 

“Yeah. I do,” you stated. “But let's say he doesn’t, I imagine Charlie will wonder where I am. Who do you think she’s going to run to? Her ex-exorcist angel girlfriend? Or her King of Hell angel father? One way or another you are getting your ass handed to you.”

“Another noteworthy point she's making,” Val hissed through his teeth. “Why are we doing this here?” 

“Fine! I’ll get to it then.” Vox grumbled. “You know I want you back, what is that going to take?” 

“You have nothing I want.” 

“I’m sure that’s not true, we could come to an arrangement. You could have whatever job you wanted. Or, no job at all. I could treat you like a queen. I could make you famous, or start your own company, anything! Just tell me what you want.” 

“Pass.” 

“You could have anything and everything you’ve ever wanted. You really want to work at that stupid hotel all your afterlife?” 

“I don’t know what I need to say or do to make you understand, we are done here. I’d rather financially struggle for eternity than come back to you. Especially after this bullshit.”

I can do this, he thought. He could get you back. Avoid the lengthy heartbreak he endured before. He could make you happy, he just knew it. He just had to make you see that he was serious. That he wanted this, he wanted you. 

“What if…” he hesitated. “What if I gave you my soul?” 

“Excuse me?” you said, shocked. “What the fuck Vox.”

“What?!” Valentino exclaimed. “I did not just hear you correctly. What the fuck did you just say?!” Valentino was up from the couch, shouting. He grabbed Vox by the collar and dragged him out of the room. “Excuse us a moment.” 

You could hear shouting down the hall. Vox must have lost it. Offering his soul? Even half is a huge deal. That would shift the power of not only him as an overlord but his company too. It was a choice that affected both Valentino and Velvette and he was just tossing it around like it was nothing. Maybe this wasn’t about Alastor after all. Maybe he did actually love you? 

The doors opened and Valentino entered the room without Vox. 

“He’s going to take a little time out to gather his fucking sanity,” he huffed. “As for you, I’m tired of this. I didn’t care that you were his little sidepiece. But like hell if I am going to suffer this again! I endured years of him whining about Alastor. He finally stopped complaining when you came around and now it's the same goddamn fucking thing.” 

“Aw poor baby,” you said flatly. “Do you want me to call your madre to come change your diapers?” 

“Shut the fuck up!” He slapped you across the face. You felt your lip crack and the slight taste of blood hit your tongue. “You dumb whore!” 

“Wow. Did your mommy also raise you to hit like a bitch?”

“Cunt!” this time he socked you and your head hit the back of the chair with a thud. It took you a bit to shake it off. “I don’t mind roughing you up if you’re into that, baby. Cause I certainly am.” 

“Fuck,” you could see a blurry red cloud in the corner of your eye, the impact broke a blood vessel. “There you go champ, I knew you had it in you.”

“Ugh. You are going to start cooperating and give him what he wants,” Val demanded.

“Yeah, no thanks,” you could feel blood dripping from your nose, he got you good on that last swing. “I’m not doing shit.”

“I wasn’t asking,” Val pulled a syringe of purple liquid out of his pocket. “We're going to make you a little bit more complaint.” 

“What the fuck, Val… come on, that's a bit excessive,” you uselessly struggled in the chair. “Please don’t.”

“Oh, now we want to play nice? Too late.” 

He injected it into your arm with an aggressive jab. Your vision immediately blurred. The room moved like you were floating on the ocean. You tried to keep your eyes open as you tilted your head back to rest on the back of the chair. By the time Vox returned, you were slack-jawed.

“I had a little chat with our girlie here and I think she’ll be more behaved,” Val told Vox, returning to the couch.

“Oh, uh, okay… great,” he came over to you. “Oh, what the fuck Val, did you hit her?” 

“Just a little.” 

“Ughhhh. You are not helping me here!” he turned back to you, taking your face in his hands to look at the swelling and bruise that was already forming on your eye. He grabbed a rag and wiped the blood from your nose. “I’m sorry, doll, are you okay?”

You blinked hard several times trying to clear your vision. All you could see was the blurry glow of Vox’s face. 

“Pretty… blue…” you giggled. 

“Uh..” Vox looked at your dilated eyes. “WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK VAL!? Did you drug her??”

“Yes, now make a deal for her soul so we can be done with this fucking bullshit!” Val spat. 

“Fuck…Fuckkkkkkk,” he groaned. He took a deep breath. “What is wrong with you? She’s never going to trust me now!”

“Oh yeah, 'cause kidnapping is such a bonding experience. Shut the fuck up and take her soul. I gave her a nice little cocktail, if she isn’t willing now in about 20 minutes she’ll be so hungry for your cock, she’ll give you whatever you want.” 

“Fuck fuck fuck. This isn’t how this was supposed to go.” 

“What was the plan then? You sell her your fucking soul and ruin everything we have going for us? What the fuck is wrong with you!?” 

“Get out,” Vox sat on the opposite couch than Val, placing his head in his hands. “Get. The. Fuck. Out. N̷̬̝͚̒̚Õ̶̢̧̨͔̮̳̫̘͍̭̤͉̻̤̊̉̈́̋̈́͐͌̎̑̈́͘͠Ẅ̸̢̱̘́̔͛̇̓̓̈́̈̉̅̏̾͘͘͠!” 

“FINE,” Val hissed. “But if you give that cunt your soul, I will personally kill both of you fuckers. Do you understand me!?” He picked up the drink he was nursing and threw the glass against the wall. “FUCKING RIDICULOUS!” 

The doors slammed behind him. Vox sat there, head in his hands, panicking. What options did he have? There was no way he’d be able to convince you to come back now. He was fucked. You groaned as the room spun. Vox untied you from the chair, picked you up, and carried you to the couch. He laid you down, propping your head up on his lap. He ran his fingers through your hair. 

“Fuck.. I ..I’m so sorry.” 

“Vox..?” 

“Yeah, babe... I’m right here.” 

“I don’t feel good,” tears dripped from your eyes.

“Yeah… I know. I’m sorry, doll. I’m really sorry. I don’t know, I just thought… I’m so stupid.” He sighed. “I wanted things to go back the way they were… I thought I could...I don’t know.”

 He wiped a tear from your face, you shuttered at his touch. He knew he had a short amount of time before the love potion part of the cocktail would make the situation so much worse. Val intended for him to take advantage. Vox was a lot of things, but he wasn’t that. You were already starting to squirm, clenching your legs together. After several minutes of drowning in his thoughts, he swallowed his pride, picked up his phone from the table, and dialed the only person he knew at the hotel. 

“Hi, Angel? Yeah uh…it’s Vox. I need to talk to Alastor please.” 

“Oooooof, yah, about that…uh…” he paused. “He’s already comin’ for yah bud. Good luck!” Angel hung up. 

Fuck my life. Vox sat and awaited his fate. 

It didn’t take long before Vox could hear screams and crashing sounds coming from lower levels of the building. The doors of his penthouse burst open, black tentacles flailing. Alastor’s large corrupted form twisted its way through the doorway. Smears of blood and body parts littered the hall behind him, half of a body in his large claw. 

“Al.. I fucked up,” he let out a heavy exhale. “Please take her home. She needs you.” 

One of his tentacles whipped out and wrapped around Vox’s neck, bringing him to his knees. Scratchy radio growls bubbled up from Alastor’s chest. He dragged Vox across the room, raising him up off the ground. Alastor’s jaw clenched and teeth grinding as his neck made a piercing cracking sound. Blood dripped from the corners of his mouth. 

“If she left.. Wouldn’t.. Wouldn’t you do .. anything to get her back?” Vox gagged, gripping at the appendage crushing his throat. The tentacle continued to apply pressure, a small crack ran across Vox’s face. “..ple..ase..” 

“Ala..stor…” you mumbled, curled up in a painful ball on the couch. 

You reached your hand out to him. His expression softened and form shrank, lured out of his murderous rage by your voice. He tossed Vox, landing against the coffee table. Glass and wood broke beneath him. Vox sat up and dragged himself to the other couch, pulling a few pieces of glass out of his arm. He tried to catch his breath. Alastor sat down next to you, removing hair from your face. He growled when he saw the swollen red lump around your eye.

“She’s right, I’m no good for her,” Vox said, defeated. “I didn’t appreciate her until she was gone. I didn’t realize what a hole she’d leave. I miss her kindness, her humor,” tears formed in the corners of Vox’s eyes. “Don’t fuck this up Al. Don’t do what I did.”

Vox had a new sense of clarity and was finally letting go. He could see that no matter what he did, he pained you in one way or another. Situations both in and out of his control would always affect your quality of life. Tonight was a great example. He could finally see that you deserved better than he could give. He had failed you, just as he’d failed Alastor so many years before. Vox wrapped his arms around his knees and sobbed. He felt heartbroken and knew it was his own fault. 

“Please… deal with this later? Take me home,” you pleaded. 

“Very well. But this will be addressed,” he snarled at Vox. 

Alastor picked you up and all faded to black. 

[octosimpin]

"In the Crosshairs of Corruption" Golden Kamuy - UsaO - Explicit - Demon AU

Summary: As a professional hunter of the supernatural, Ogata Hyakunosuke is constantly at war with infernal foes. Some are out for blood while others simply lurk at the edge of his senses, testing the limits of his mental fortitude. With his unmatched sharpshooting skills and insufferable ego, he deflects their ruthless advances without breaking a sweat. That is, until one fateful night, when he’s met by a powerful demon which is equally obnoxious as it is intriguing. It crawls into his bed, pries its way into his life, and undermines everything he's ever known until he's fighting against the throes of his own immorality.

Read here! PLEASE be mindful of the tags!!! -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/44466298/chapters/111844654

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 311: Hand Gun

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “thinkin’ about dropping in some woke analogies of the very real and very presently relevant issue of racial profiling idk what do you guys think” and then shrugged and did it without waiting for an answer, and ngl it was a bit sudden, but I’m here for it. All Might was all “DEKU YOU NEED TO EAT” and Deku was all “OKAY” and took his hero bento and went to go stand dramatically on a tower in the rain whilst having some highly anticipated Vestige flashbacks. OFA II was all, “sup, I guess I’m not Kacchan... OR AM I,” and ngl I think he is?? Alternate universes anybody?? Hello??? But anyway, so OFA the First a.k.a. Yoichi was all “remember that time you guys rescued me from my evil brother and Two took my hand and we Had A Moment?”, and Two and Three were all “ahh yeah good times”, and it was very nice and very, very gay. The chapter ended with it being very unclear if Two and Three have actually lent their power to Deku yet or not lmao. Y’all need to get your shit together dudes.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “what if I gave a random bad guy a fucking tommy gun that shoots nails” and jesus christ calm down son. The Hawksquad, a.k.a. SQUAWK as per @hotchocolatier​, are all “time to drive aimlessly around town acting like Deku has a restraining order on us because that’s literally the best plan to combat the League we could come up with,” and I have no further comment. Hawks is all “idk about you guys but I want to know more about AFO and Tomura’s whole deal” and I can’t remember the last time I identified so strongly with one of these characters. All Might is all, “[EXPLODES???]”, and the chapter ends with that mysterious hot girl from the Tartarus breakout being all “HELLO I CAN TURN INTO A GUN AND I LITERALLY DON’T GIVE A FUCK” and (1) WOW, and (2) IT’S TRUE, SHE CAN, AND SHE REALLY DOESN’T. GODDAMN.

(ETA: so this wholly escaped my notice on the first go, and also has nothing to do with the chapter itself, but I only just realized that this chapter was scanlated by a new group, TCB Scans. they actually did a very good job, and I’m curious if they’ve found a new RAW provider, because the quality this week is actually crazy good in comparison to what we’ve been dealing with for the past few months. I’m gonna have to get caught up on what exactly happened here lol.)

so what will it be this week? more Vestige antics? more of Sad Nomad Deku standing on buildings and pretending like he’s some cool aloof antihero, as if he could fool us when we all know his hero backpack is secretly stuffed full with his nerd diaries and the remnants of all the hero bentos that All Might keeps giving him?? or, just putting it out there, just a crazy thought, but you don’t suppose we might actually cut back to U.A.? mmm. side-eyes emoji

maaaaaan I’m starting to get tired of this trend of beginning chapters by dropping in on random power-tripping civilians and/or Shindou lol. just once can we get a chapter that opens with someone I actually give a fuck about

oh at least Endeavor is here

A WHAT SUPPORT ITEM!??! HOLY SHIT DDLKJSLFKJL

lol somehow that’s more terrifying than bullets for me?? like I’m fully aware that bullets will fuck you up way worse and that in real life nail guns probably don’t work like this AT ALL and only have a range of like... hold up let me just google... up to 100 to 150 m/s and distances of up to 500m wait WHAT

okay wait. hold up. like I was expecting google to tell me nail guns only shoot a few feet at most, and instead the first search result is some CDC blog article that’s “dispelling” the “””myth””” -- please note my repeated sarcastic quotation marks -- that nail guns can fire 1400 feet per second, by explaining that actually they can fire anywhere from 315 ft/sec to 1,295 ft/sec, and that “it is in the pneumatic nail gun user’s best interest to handle these tools as if they were a firearm despite having a lower velocity” dlkjdslkjflkl

SO THAT SCENE IN IRON MAN 3 WHERE TONY RAIDS A HOME DEPOT AND BUYS A BUNCH OF RANDOM TOOLS AND SHIT AND GOES ON TO STAGE A ONE-MAN INVASION OF AN INTERNATIONAL TERRORIST’S FLORIDA MANSION HQ IS ACTUALLY TRUE. YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT THE FILM “HOME ALONE” IS ACTUALLY A DOCUMENTARY. “the Discovery Channel television program “Mythbusters” compared the penetration capacity of an airborne projectile shot from a pneumatic framing nail gun to that of a 9mm hand gun” HELLO YES AND A MERRY “WHAT THE FUCK” TO YOU AS WELL

anyway, so. there’s apparently a reason why the Number One hero, who can burn people with the intensity of a sun going supernova, is hiding here behind this concrete support column making frowny faces. nope. nuh uh. he ain’t about that. I don’t blame you buddy

so now he’s barrel rolling out of his hiding place and setting this dude THE FUCK ON FIRE because HELL NO. BAD ENOUGH I HAD TO WATCH THAT FUCKING MUSHROOM EPISODE LAST WEEK! YOU TAKE THAT SHIT SOMEWHERE ELSE

LOL look at his face

I know the context is actually him being all “I know I’m responsible for basically everything that happened and so that’s why I’m so grim and serious about this mission to set things right piece by piece,” but in my mind this pissed-off face is 100% all because this dude tried to shoot his eye out with a nail gun. look at that. you made him go full flame face again. beard and all. protecting his face so that it can hopefully melt any stray nails that get too close. nope nope nope

good lord. so what’s up next. let me guess the guy fighting Best Jeanist has like an atomic chainsaw or some shit

lol nope we’re just cutting back to Hawks and Jeanist chilling in the Jesla after they’ve wrapped things up

Jeanist has got some serious Groot energy you guys jesus christ he’s like 12 feet tall

oh snap someone threw a pipe at him now

today is just the chapter of Endeavor being assaulted by random DIY tools I guess

I mean, I get why they’re pissed at him obviously; I would be too lol. but tbh I also don’t really understand the “get out of here we don’t want your help” attitude that all of these people suddenly seem to have?? like it if were me, I would be fucking DEMANDING for him and the other heroes to be working round the clock to fix their stupid mess. I mean who else is gonna do it?? it’s their mess, I sure don’t want to be the one to clean it up instead. anyways but whatever lol

oh shit?

so they haven’t dropped the whole “OFA secret potentially gets revealed to the world” thing yet after all. that makes sense I suppose, it did seem like that whole thing wound up playing out a bit too easily

anyway so yeah

the locals are definitely none too happy. well at least Dabi’s got something to be cheerful about I guess

so now we’re cutting to the interior of the Jesla and they’re chitchatting about the current investigation

oh wow this actually makes a bit of sense now. so there was a reason they were keeping their distance from Deku

please note that even in this abstract Endeavor’s-Mental-Image-Of-Him panel, Deku’s eyes still don’t have the light in them anymore :( my poor son

also ftr I still think using Deku as bait in this particular sense is the shittiest idea ever ngl. like sure, let’s let the sixteen-year-old run around battling miscellaneous escaped prison convicts while we stay several kilometers away ON PURPOSE despite the fact that you’re using him as bait to draw out the Big Bad, who just a reminder can destroy anything with a mere touch and who you were all basically helpless against. what exactly are you all planning to do if Tomura or one of the other League VIPs actually shows up to retrieve him?? are you even keeping tabs on him at all in real time?? jesus

(ETA: well that escalated quickly lol.)

Horikoshi is all of a sudden dropping whole pages of exposition here and I can’t be bothered to summarize this lol so just,

a big fat YES to what Jeanist said, though. that’s why imo they would have been better off laying a trap at U.A. rather than just wandering around out in the open. I assume they’re trying to cut their potential losses because U.A. is full of students (and civilians), but those students also happen to be more capable than pretty much anyone else in the manga at this point. and tbh they’re already in life-threatening danger regardless of how things play out from here on, so they might as well at least try to use the few advantages they have right now. U.A. is almost certainly going to come under siege at some point anyway, so they might as well prepare for it

lol I don’t think I’m explaining this very well because I don’t have the patience right now to break it down point by point like it really ought to be, so for now I’ll just say that imo “U.A. siege” stands a good chance of being the eventual endgame even now, and so this whole “Deku runs around being bait” arc is really just killing time until then lol. like and subscribe for more rambling nonsensical takes such as this. maybe next time I’ll even put it all into one single sentence for maximum meandering senior citizen rant value

well it’s nice that they’re finally talking about all of this I guess

we readers have known all of this for months now but this confirms the heroes are finally caught up. ALSO, Hawks is so fucking smart, as always. kinda wonder if things would have played out differently if All Might had let him in on the secret a bit earlier. probably that’s why Horikoshi made damn sure they didn’t find out until after the War arc lol

OH MY GOD YOOOOOO HAWKS OUT HERE ASKING THE REAL QUESTIONS

“anyone else wondering why AFO bothered to raise Tomura as his fake heir for fifteen years when he was secretly planning on taking over his body the whole time” YES, [raises hand] lmao Hawks where the hell were you when I was debating this “AFO is the final villain and Tomura is just his pawn” thing on multiple occasions over the past several years lol

lmao seeing them debate the metaphysics of OFA and all of its mystical bullshit is seriously surreal you guys

JEANIST HAVE YOU CHECKED OUT MY META TAG I HAVE WRITTEN SO MANY ESSAYS. I ACTUALLY WAS PLANNING ON WRITING ANOTHER ESSAY ABOUT THE THING THAT I’M PRETTY SURE HAWKS IS ABOUT TO BRING UP, BUT I NEVER GOT AROUND TO IT WHOOPS, BUT MAYBE I WILL NOW LOL LET’S SEE HOW IT GOES

yes!!

WHICH AFO FUCKING ENSURED HE WOULD BE BY LITERALLY PLANNING OUT EVERY LAST DETAIL OF HIS FAMILY TRAGEDY, FROM SECRETLY GIVING TENKO THE QUIRK TO MAKING SURE NO CIVILIANS OR HEROES WOULD HELP HIM UNTIL AFO FINALLY STEPPED IN. I’M 1000% CONVINCED THIS IS THE CASE YOU GUYS. NOT JUST BECAUSE I’M NOT A FAN OF “THE WORLD IS A FUNDAMENTALLY SHITTY PLACE, ACTUALLY” TAKES BECAUSE MISTER ROGERS TOLD ME TO ALWAYS LOOK FOR THE HELPERS, BUT ALSO BECAUSE IT LITERALLY JUST DOESN’T MAKE A LICK OF SENSE OTHERWISE. THEIR ENTIRE HOUSE CAVED IN FFS, YOU’RE TELLING ME NONE OF THE NEIGHBORS FUCKING OVERHEARD THAT SHIT AND WENT “UMMMMMMMMM” AND WENT TO SEE WHAT WAS GOING ON?? “DIDN’T THERE USED TO BE A HOUSE HERE, AND LIKE A WHOLE FAMILY, AND SHIT?”

LIKE I’M SORRY, BUT IT’S ONE THING TO SAY IT’S REALISTIC THAT NOT A SINGLE PERSON WOULD ATTEMPT TO HELP THE WANDERING TRAUMATIZED CHILD AFTERWARDS (WHICH I DISAGREE WITH AS WELL BUT AT LEAST THAT’S MORE SUBJECTIVE), AND IT’S A WHOLE OTHER THING TO ARGUE THAT IT’S REALISTIC THAT NO ONE WOULD BE FUCKING NOSY. LIKE THAT’S A WHOLE DIFFERENT LEVEL OF “THAT’S NOT HOW ANY OF THIS WORKS” ENTIRELY LOL. anyway tl;dr AFO is a piece of shit and Tomura’s entire worldview is based on a magnificently intricate and savagely cruel lie more at 11

anyway so after all that ranting it looks like that wasn’t even what Hawks was talking about after all lol. I just went off for absolutely no reason lol oh well. instead it seems that Hawks is suggesting that Tomura’s carefully cultivated hatred might not yet have actually reached “can defeat OFA” levels even after all of that trauma. interesting!

don’t mind me, I’m just sitting here while my brain furiously scrambles to put together all the parallels between Hawks and Tomura that it never noticed before until exactly this second. like I’m not even sure that was the intent here at all (I need to check out another translation or two lol), but regardless my mind decided that now would be the perfect time to make the connection between these two twenty-somethings who both had horrific childhoods and spent years being molded by their respective manipulative guardians, and developed eerily similar “laugh at everything because what else can you do” coping mechanisms to deal with it all hmmmmm

anyway so they were talking more about their strategy, but now all of a sudden Jeanist’s phone is beeping??

AND NOW WE’RE CUTTING AWAY TO ALL MIGHT AND HIS MIGHTMOBILE DAMMIT so that means the call to Jeanist was actually something important then!! WAS IT BAKUGOU OMG. DOES YOUR INTERN WANT A WORD FFFKLFSJK please it’s been so long I just need a little crumb or two to tide me over lmao have mercy

anyway so All Might’s following the GPS tracking device he’s apparently got planted on Deku (which in my conspiracy headcanons he’s actually had for a long time now, like since before DvK2 lol because HOW ELSE WOULD HAVE HAVE KNOWN THAT THEY WERE FIGHTING EACH OTHER IN GROUND BETA, PEOPLE) and thinking angsty thoughts about Deku’s sucky life

AND NOW ALL MIGHT’S PHONE IS RINGING TOO?? BAKUGOU HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE YOU CALLING. “WHERE ARE YOU HIDING THE NERD GODDAMMIT”

OMG

lol is he under attack or is he just finally giving All Might the slip like we all know he SECRETLY PLANNED TO ALL ALONG oh my poor dumb angstmuffin

OMG AHHHHHHH WHAT

DID ALL MIGHT JUST FUCKING DIE LMAO NO OF COURSE NOT, BUT WHAT

WHAT IS HAPPENING OMG

THE FUCK IS THAT. AT LEAST IT’S NOT A NAIL

OH IT’S A SPEAKER!! OMG DID THEY TAKE ALL MIGHT HOSTAGE

“THEY’RE HERE” WELP, TIME TO SEE JUST HOW SHITTY THIS SHITTY PLAN REALLY IS LOL

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

SHE!!!!

omg. AND OVERHAUL JUST CHILLING THERE IN THE BACKGROUND ALL “WHAT DO YOU EVEN WANT ME TO DO I’VE GOT NO FUCKING ARMS” YEAH GOOD RIDDANCE LOL

DOES THIS GIRL HAVE ONE GIANT LEG OR WHAT, LIKE WHAT’S THE DEAL HERE

-- HOLD UP WAIT, THE GUN IS HER ARM, HOLY SHIT SHE CAN TURN INTO A GUN -- OKAY HOLD UP BECAUSE I NEED TO SAY THAT IN BIGGER TEXT BECAUSE !!!!

YOU GUYS, THE COOL TARTARUS GIRL IS BACK AND HER QUIRK IS “CAN TURN INTO A FUCKING GUN.” THIS IS NOT A DRILL!! MY BEST GIRL MT. GUN IS FINALLY BACK ON THE SCENE WITH HER QUIRK “CAN DO ANYTHING A GUN CAN DO.” “I HEARD Y’ALL WENT AND NAMED ONE OF YOUR HEROES ‘GUNHEAD’ EVEN THOUGH HIS HEAD ISN’T EVEN A GUN, LIKE WTF IS UP WITH THAT LET ME SHOW YOU HOW IT’S DONE” DANG OKAY

lmao only fifteen pages this week, and STILL NO KACCHAN (THEN WHO WAS PHONE!!!), but man I don’t even care because finally we’ve got a cliffhanger that’s actually deserving of being a cliffhanger! hot dog. okay then

[keanureevesisbae]

But professor… - c.4

Summary: Penny is going to see her professor for the first time again after they kissed.

Professor!Walter Marshall x Penny Townsend (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 5.1k

Warnings: Thunderstorms (?)

Masterlist // But professor… masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

The next day it’s time for my criminology class, the first one I’ll have after our kiss. I haven’t spoken to Walter since the kiss, because a) it was literally yesterday and b) after I told him I was going to bed, I actually went to bed and fell asleep.

To make matters even worse, our meeting isn’t even gonna be in a private setting.

It’s in lecture hall setting.

Despite me falling asleep not long after I arrived home, I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t fall back to sleep. Since I was hungry, I decided to have some late night snacks, but I am incapable of eating normally, because I totally spilled some sauce on Walter’s sweater.

In other words: I had a little early morning laundry moment.

With Walter’s sweater neatly folded in my backpack, I take a deep breath for some encouragement, as I walk into the lecture hall. There are already around ten other students in their seats and Walter sits on the edge of his table, as he reads through his notes. He looks up, but his expression barely changes. Emphasis on barely. There is a slight shift in his eyes, but it’s hardly noticeable if you don’t know him that well. ‘Morning, miss Townsend.’

Like nothing ever happened between us.

‘Good morning, sir,’ I say, before walking up to my assigned seat. I should not let out a sigh of relief, but I still do. I tell myself I shouldn’t be this nervous, however it’s an impossible task. My leg moves up and down in a restless pace and my jaw is painfully clenched.

I try my best, but it is out of question to focus on the entire class. Thankfully, Walter must’ve noticed that my brain is everywhere but in this class, because he doesn’t call out my name once. For the first time in forever I don’t have any questions about the assignment, so when a few other students hang around after class, I manage to sneak passed them and make my way to the library.

My brain really is malfunctioning, because I keep staring at my screen, unable to do anything slightly productive. I look into my backpack, to see Walter’s sweater. About an hour has passed and maybe… Maybe I could bring it to him now?

I grab my phone and decide to just send him a text. I can take the first step after yesterday, right? I’m a big girl.

Me: Can I come over to your office now?

I don’t get an answer straight away, which is only fueling up the doubt that has been brewing inside my heart. Not quite the big girl after all.

What if he thought this was a mistake? Oh shit, the kiss was terrible, he hated it and I should therefore never ever kiss again!

My breathing stops when I see his answer.

Walter: Of course, princess 💕

I swallow hard. This is a good sign, right? The heart emoji and the nickname that led me to internally screaming all night indicate he didn’t think the kiss was terrible, what we did wasn’t a mistake and that we should totally kiss again.

Right?

The hallways are empty, as a lot of people are already back at their dorms due to the bad weather that is forecasted for later today. Normally, I would do the same, but I think I lingered around campus, so I had a chance of talking to Walter. I walk towards his office and knock on his door. I hear a deep and annoyed: ‘Come in’ and I take it as my cue to open the door.

‘Hello,’ I say, ‘you sure I can come in?’

He looks up from his desk and smiles. Small crowfeet appearing near the corners of his eyes, a tiny bit of evidence that he is genuinely happy to see me. ‘Of course Penny,’ he says, standing up from his seat. He walks towards the corner of his office, lifting some stuff up,  to reveal a chair. He places it on the other side of his desk. ‘Please, take a seat,’ he says, holding out his hand.

All of this trouble for me? ‘I wasn’t planning on staying long.’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ he says, waiting for me to take place on the chair and I quickly do so. When he sits on his own chair again, he asks: ‘How are you?’

That’s such a sweet and darling question of him. ‘I’m okay. I just came by to give you your sweater back.’ I pull it out of my bag and say: ‘Thank you for lending it to me.’

He nods. ‘Of course.’

‘I washed it,’ I add, ‘since I kinda dropped some hot sauce on it. I hope you like my laundry detergent.’

I hand it over the table to him and he presses his nose against the fabric. ‘It smells great, thanks.’

I smile at him, since I can’t really stop it. He is so different around me, then he is when he’s a professor. There is no annoyance, no boredom. Only adoration if I’m correct. It feels good to be on the receiving end of it. ‘That was all actually. For once I don’t have questions.’

‘I see,’ Walter says. ‘You got a lot of work to do?’

I shake my head. ‘No, not really. Just your class.’

He chuckles. ‘I’m sorry about that.’

‘Don’t worry about it. Anyways, I should go. I have a few things I have to pick up from the grocery store anyway. Forgot some things yesterday,’ I say.

Walter nods. ‘Of course.’ While I said I should go, I can’t seem to stand up. Walter tilts his head and asks: ‘What’s wrong, princess?’

‘Nothing,’ I whisper.

‘Is it… The kiss?’ he carefully asks. ‘Because if it is, I have to apologize. I was crossing multiple lines with that.’

I shake my head. ‘No, Walter, don’t worry about it. I enjoyed it. It’s just… It was my first kiss.’

His eyes enlarge, nearly rolling out of his sockets. The surprised emotion is one I haven’t seen with him in real life. I actually thought nothing could startle him. ‘Your first kiss?’ he repeats. A few seconds pass by slowly as he runs his fingers through his disheveled curls. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

I shrug again. ‘I don’t know. It didn’t seem relevant.’

He sighs. ‘I’m so sorry, princess.’

‘There is nothing to worry about. If it makes you feel any better, I’m glad this was my first kiss.’

He leans back in his seat. ‘Penelope Townsend,’ he says, with a slight smile on his lips. ‘You’re quite something.’

Oh shit, he uses my full name. That… That can’t be good, right? Panic is taking over and I quickly say: ‘I really have to go.’ I grab my backpack and shoot out of his little office space, not even waiting for him to say something.

My brain is fried.

On autopilot, I managed to find my way to the grocery store, where I buy more instant noodles. I don’t know why, but I even grab some hair products for Walter. It’s getting ridiculous that I’m actually going to buy this, but on the other hand, he told me I could help him out with those slightly dry locks of his.

I spend little to no time in my dorm, because I am unable to stop thinking about Walter. I shouldn’t have left like that, I think to myself. He now must think I don’t like him, when in reality: I like him a lot.

As I am pacing through the room, nearly ripping out my hair out of pure frustration, I hear the rain against the window. It’s mild,  especially if you compare it to the forecasted weather. I check my weather app and realize that with this type thunderstorm, I really don’t want to be alone here.

Without even thinking about the pros and cons of this plan, I pack some stuff I need and when I walk outside, the bus to his place is thankfully already there. The clouds are turning a darker shade of grey, as I’m hopelessly walking around the block after I got off the bus. My sense of direction is severely lacking and it takes me awhile before I even see his building.

It starts to pour and I turn into a shivering mess. By the time I’m at his door and knocked on it, I realize that I should’ve called.

This, Penelope Townsend, was a very poorly thought out plan. This is terribly rude and there is no turning back now. Oh no, what if he thinks that—

‘Hey,’ Walter says when he opens the door and smiles as he notices it’s me. ‘What are you doing here, princess?’

He doesn’t seem mad, that is a good sign. ‘I am terribly sorry, Walter, I really shouldn’t be here. I don’t know why I’m here even. Okay, I do know, because I don’t want to be alone with this weather, but I should’ve at least called you. I mean, you probably aren’t even in the mood to deal with me, which is totally understandable. I’m so sorry, please forget this ever happened and I’ll just go.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ he says, holding my wrist tightly in his large hand, not allowing me to leave. ‘Come in.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m very sure. They say it’s gonna be shitty weather anyway and I’d hate if you had to go back. Besides, you’re soaking wet.’

‘You really sure I’m not bothering you?’ I ask, as he gently pulls me inside, still unsure whether or not I’m welcome.

‘Positive.’ He helps me out of my coat and tells me I can change in the bathroom. He grabs some of his own clothing and hands it to me. ‘Now, I’m gonna tidy up in here a bit,’ he says, ‘because I left some crime scene pictures around.’

I smile as I grab the clothing. ‘I should’ve called,’ I try to sort of apologize again, but he is having none of it.

‘Nonsense,’ he says, ‘you don’t have to call. You are always welcome here.’ He places his hand on my cheek, before pressing a soft kiss on my forehead. ‘Besides, I’m glad you’re here. I kinda missed you.’

I let out a chuckle. ‘Walter, I’m sorry I left your office. I was freaking out.’

‘I know,’ he says. Of course he knew. ‘It’s okay, Penny.’

‘It is?’

He nods. ‘Now get changed, you’re freezing.’

✎ ✎ ✎

After I changed into some of his clothing and hung my own clothes over the heater, I walk back into the living room, only to see him preparing some dinner in the kitchen.

That is such a domestic move.

‘Thank you for letting me stay here,’ I say, causing him to look over his shoulder. ‘I’m not great with this kind of weather.’

‘Figured,’ he chuckles. ‘You’re afraid?’

‘No,’ I answer, as I walk up to the counter. ‘Absolutely not.’ Almost on cue, a loud bang of thunder fills the room, causing me to yelp. ‘Okay, maybe a little.’

Walter starts to laugh. When I’m within arm reach of him, he lifts me up on the counter like I weigh nothing to him. ‘Sit still and be pretty, okay?’

I frown. ‘How am I supposed to be pretty?’

‘By being yourself,’ he says, ‘and smile at me from time to time. Seems doable, right?’

‘I can try,’ I say, a smile already appearing on my face. ‘What are you making?’

‘Some pasta,’ he answers. ‘You like that?’

‘I do,’ I say, pushing my glasses better on my nose. ‘I really do. Especially when someone else makes it. Don’t you have that, when someone else makes the food, it automatically tastes better?’

He shakes his head. ‘No, I don’t.’

Leave it to him to be an exception. ‘Why not?’

‘I like making my own food,’ he says.

‘Hm.’ I lean my head back against the cupboard. ‘I really can’t cook well,’ I admit. ‘My mom was always the one that would make my meals back home. I’m a disaster in the kitchen, hence the reason I live on ramen, which I can easily screw up as well.’

Walter smiles, placing one hand on my leg, as he holds a wooden spoon to stir the sauce. ‘Here, taste this,’ he says, grabbing a string of pasta and blows on it so it can cool off a bit. He brings it to my lips and it’s such an automatic move to place my hand on his wrist.

‘It’s good,’ I say.

‘I’ll grab a plate for you. How about you get comfortable on the couch?’

I jump off the counter and walk towards the living room area. His couch looks kinda dull, in a beige tint that reminds me of my grandma’s wardrobe, but don’t be fooled: it’s the most comfortable thing I’ve ever sat on. I grab a blanket and place it over my lap.

Walter joins me, handing me the plate with pasta and sits next to me. It only takes a second, before I flinch as the thunder is now accompanied by lighting. ‘You’re so easily scared,’ he snickers. Without me doing it on purpose, I scoot closer to him. I know he cannot  psychically protect me against it, but not being alone with weather like this, is a relief itself. ‘Careful, princess,’ he says, ‘it’s hot.’

As we eat in silence, I keep thinking about what I can say to him. ‘I brought some hair stuff with me,’ I say. ‘Bought some today.’

‘For me?’

I nod. ‘For you,’ I confirm. ‘Maybe you want to use it.’

‘Or you use it on me,’ he says. ‘I have no idea what I’m doing anyway.’

As I finish the pasta (which was delicious), he takes the plate from my hands and places it on the coffee table next to his own empty plate. ‘Come here,’ he says, pulling me closer in his warm and protective arms.

I wonder whether or not it’s odd that I’m this comfortable with him this soon. I usually have a warm up period of at least a few weeks when I meet new people. When I worked in a cafe back in Japan during my gap year, it took me a month before I wasn’t painfully shy with some of my coworkers.

But with Walter, I am still shy and sometimes a bit awkward, but it doesn’t feel unpleasant. It’s like he understands and is patient with me.

I place my legs over his and hold his hand in both of mine. My fingers trace over his knuckles, where I notice some slight scarring. ‘How did you get this one?’

‘Bar fight,’ he says, ‘before I joined the academy.’

‘You were that type of guy?’

Walter doesn’t say anything and when I look up, I see he is not even looking at me. He is staring at the window. ‘Yeah, something like that. In case you wondered: he kinda asked for it.’

There is so much I want to ask him. What he was like when he grew up. What he thought of the academy. Interesting cases he solved.

However, a loud bang brutally interrupts my thoughts. At the exact same time, the lights shut off. My breathing stops. Oh no, a power cut? I’m so glad I’m not in my dorm alone. I might’ve called Walter crying, ask him to risk his life so he could pick me up.

Good thing I’m already here.

‘Great,’ he mumbles, turning on the flashlight on his phone. ‘There isn’t much I can do,’ he says, ‘except wait for it to come back. You want me to light some candles?’

I hate the dark this much, that I quickly say” ‘Please.’

He stands up, but I hold on tightly to his hand. ‘What’s wrong, princess?’

‘Can I walk with you?’

‘Of course.’ His fingers lace through mine and together we walk around his loft, looking for the candles and a lighter. We scatter them around the apartment and it gives a soft  and warm ambiance, one that is slightly misplaced here in his loft. I can unclench my jaw from the painful grip and Walter pulls me back on the couch.

‘Did you feel awkward?’ I ask him. ‘In class today?’

He shakes his head. ‘But I know you did.’

I purse my lips together, as I feel completely caught. ‘Was I that obvious?’

‘Not to others, but to me you were.’

‘I’m sorry.’

He shakes his head. ‘Don’t apologize for that. I just wished I knew what I could do for you to feel less awkward about it.’

I shrug. ‘I don’t know. Never thought my first… Whatever we have, would have to be in secret.’

He sighs, clearly agreeing with me. ‘I wish I could show you off,’ he says. ‘Wish I could tell Fitzgerald to stop ogling you.’

‘He doesn’t do that,’ I say.

Walter scoffs. ‘He totally does. It’s not even subtle anymore.’

I place my head against his chest, melting in his arms. I close my eyes, as I enjoy being engulfed in the warmness and protectiveness of his embrace.

No one has ever held me like this before.

‘Walter, why me?’

‘What?’ he asks.

‘Why are you even paying attention to me? I’m such a nobody.’

‘You’re not a nobody,’ Walter retorts. ‘I like you, Penny. You have an ethereal beauty, combined with an adorable and kind nature. It’s so rare to meet someone like you. I see that there is so much potential in you, no matter what you choose later on in life. It’s just that you don’t know it yet, which is such a shame really. Besides, princess, I’m not risking my job for simply anyone.’

As much as him being my professor should turn me away from it all, should make me walk towards the door and not associate myself with him anymore, I don’t feel that way. Part of me wants to hide my smile, but I can’t. ‘I kinda like you too.’

‘Just kinda?’ he asks, pretending to be offended. ‘What can I do to change that?’

I smile. ‘Kiss me again.’

He doesn’t answer, simply leaning towards me to press his soft lips on mine. One of hands squeezes my thigh, as I wrap my arms around his neck. It feels so good to kiss him. ‘Can’t believe yesterday was your first kiss,’ he whispers against my lips. ‘You’re quite talented, princess.’

‘I just follow your lead. I think that says more about your kissing skills than mine.’

‘Knew you were an excellent student.’

✎ ✎ ✎

The lights aren’t restored by the time I grow more and more tired. It’s Walter actually that tells me to go to bed. When I’m tucked away underneath the blankets in just his thick sweater, he sits on the edge of the bed. ‘I want you to be honest,’ he says in a stern voice. ‘Do you want me to sleep here or on the couch?’

It’s a sweet thing of him to ask, especially since it did cross my mind a few times. I grab his hand, my thumb caressing his knuckles. ‘I don’t know,’ I whisper.

‘Why are you hesitating?’

‘Because… I don’t want you to think I’m a prude or anything.’

He smiles. ‘Princess, I can sleep on the couch. Don’t worry.’

I blink my eyes a few times, slightly nervous. ‘You don’t mind?’

‘Of course not. Just call for me when you need me, okay?’

‘Okay.’

He gives me a quick and loving kiss on my lips. Checking with me one last time, he carefully makes his way back to the living room. While I can hear him making himself comfortable on the couch, I roll around the bed. There is an inability of mine to fall asleep, something I barely encounter. There is this annoying, but also terrifying ticking like sound  against the window and I can’t wrap my mind around it what exactly makes that noise.

The thunder and lightening are dominating the skies and my state of mind.

‘Walter?’ I finally ask him, after rolling around, being all ears and incapable of falling asleep for at least an hour. It takes only a few seconds before he walks into the bedroom. His hair is disheveled and he looks like a sleepy owl in a cartoon. It’s adorable, a word I never expected to use to describe him.

‘What’s wrong, princess?’ he asks me.

‘What is that noise?’

‘Just the water and a branch. It usually taps against the window from time to time.’

‘Oh, okay,’ I whisper. ‘Sorry to wake you.’

‘Don’t be,’ he says. He leans against the doorframe. Despite it being dark, I can still see the contours of his large body. ‘You seem wide awake.’

‘I am,’ I admit. ‘It’s just that I can’t sleep. There is too much noise here I don’t know.’

‘Want me to join you?’

I nod, only to realize he might not be able to see it. ‘Please.’

He walks over to the bed and gets in underneath the covers. I can already feel his warm body heat closer to mine and I hold my breath. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Walter chuckles. ‘It’s just me.’

I can’t stop being “ridiculous”. I mean, I am completely overstepping all sorts of boundaries. I mean, I’m in my professors loft. The same professor who I kissed. Whose clothes I’m wearing.

Who I’m severely falling for.

Walter holds out his arm and I turn to my side, nuzzling against his warm frame. He only wears a simple shirt and a pair of boxers. ‘Why are you shivering?’

‘I’m a little scared.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s just all those new sounds and a different bed,’ I mumble. ‘I don’t know.’

‘You have nothing to worry about,’ he says. I place my chin on his chest. As my eyes get used the dark, I can sort of see more of his face. I don’t have my glasses on, so it stay slightly blurry. ‘Nothing is gonna happen to you now, princess,’ he continues to say. ‘Not when I’m here.’

I smile. ‘I know,’ I say. ‘It’s just all so new to me.’

‘Yet you adapt perfectly fine.’

I bite my bottom lip. ‘Really?’

‘Really.’ He places his hand on my cheek and leans a bit forward, planting a soft kiss on my lips. It’s not my plan to deepen the kiss, but when someone’s lips taste this good, of course I don’t mind deepening it. His teeth slowly sink into my bottom lip, careful not to hurt me.

When he lets go of me, his hot breath tickles my already sensitive lips. Walter presses a kiss on my nose and whispers: ‘Go to sleep, princess. You seem tired.’

‘I am,’ I chuckle. ‘Quite the detective you are.’

✎ ✎ ✎

The next morning when I wake up, I’m still engulfed in Walter’s arms. He looks so innocent and vulnerable when he sleeps. His hand has slipped underneath my shirt, his warm palm on my back. For a second, my mind wanders to a time where it’s more than this. More than just a hand on my bare back.

It’s about him seeing me naked, him touching me and whispering sweet nothings in my ears.

It doesn’t take long for Walter to wake up as well and he smiles when he sees I’m already up. ‘I don’t mind waking up like this,’ he admits. ‘Seeing your beautiful face first thing in the morning is a lovely surprise.’

Don’t blush, Penny. Don’t you dare blush.

‘Give me a kiss, princess,’ he says.

‘I haven’t brushed my teeth yet,’ I mumble.

‘Doesn’t matter to me.’ He leans in to give me a gentle peck on my lips, followed by a few more. I giggle against him, as his fingers softly—and probably unintentionally—tickle my sides. ‘I’ll go see if the power is back on,’ he says. ‘Want something to eat?’

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Doesn’t really matter what.’

Walter kisses me one more time, before he gets up out of bed. It doesn’t take long before I slip out of the bed as well, putting on some socks and sweatpants.

This morning is the prime example of how a domestic couple behaves. I always envied my parents, for being able to find the love of their lives, living according to a certain routine with one another. I remember sitting at the dinner table, watching them dancing in the kitchen as mom would make dinner. I remember sitting in the backseat, hearing my parents sing along with the radio.

They have always been outgoing people, in complete contrast to me. Mom always comforted me telling me that one day I would find my soulmate. Dad always told me that the so called soulmate had to be approved by him.

I wonder what would happen if they found out I met Walter. It’s way too early to think about that, but my brain isn’t stopping this thought process. Especially when Walter lifts me up the counter. When he presses mindless kisses on my forehead. When he lets me use some of the products on his hair. He smiles when I massage his scalp as I’m washing his hair over the stink and use the conditioner on his dry hair.

It’s great to see Walter with his guard a bit down. Allowing me to see who he is hiding when he’s teaching and maybe when he was at work as a detective as well. His touches are soft, are kind and not once is he overstepping. He carefully reads me and my body language.

But at one point, I realize that it’s time for me to go back. My mom used to say to leave a party when it’s still fun, instead of waiting for the awkward moment where you are practically forced to leave after you overstayed.

With his curls nice dried and less frizzy, he drives me back towards the train station and the parking lot and the station itself are almost vacant. People are probably still hiding inside their houses, not wanting to deal with the aftermath of the storm yet.

‘I hate that I have to drop you off here,’ he admits. ‘You have to walk for a while. Wait, I have an idea, you call me as you walk towards your dorm. I’ll leave here when I know you’re safe and sound in your room, okay?’

‘You really don’t have to do that,’ I chuckle. ‘I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.’

‘I know that,’ he says, ‘but I care a little too much about you. I don’t want anything to happen, okay?’

It’s nice to be taken care of like this. I could get used to this. ‘Okay,’ I say, before I give him a kiss. ‘I’ll miss you.’

‘I’ll miss you too, princess.’ He pulls out his phone and says: ‘I’ll call you in a second.’

A second truly is a second, because my phone rings when I close the door. ‘Really?’ I ask him as I pick up the phone, still being able to see him.

‘Yes, really.’

I wave at him, as I walk towards the dormitory building, which is about a ten minute walk. ‘You have a cute walk,’ he says, when I’m out of sight for him. ‘There’s almost a little skip in it.’

‘Way to make me more self conscious than I already was.’

‘Ah, princess,’ he says, ‘don’t be like that. You have nothing to be self conscious about. You’re beautiful, you’re cute and you are the sweetest thing alive.’

‘Don’t say stuff like that. I’m blushing.’

I can hear his chuckles from the other side of the line. ‘Where are you now?’

‘I can see the dorms already. You really want me to call you until I’m in my room?’

‘Yes.’

I can’t argue with that determination. While I simply chat to him about the damage done by the storm, I see Fitzgerald near the entrance. Great, I really can’t use this now.

‘There she is,’ he says, when I open the door and walk passed him to get inside.

‘Is that who I think it is?’ Walter asks me.

‘Yes.’

‘He does that often?’

Correct me if I’m wrong, but he sounds kinda possessive. ‘Sometimes.’

‘Sugar plum,’ Fitzgerald says as he follows me inside. ‘I have a question for you.’

‘I’m on the phone,’ I tell him, hoping it’s enough for him to get lost. ‘Can’t really wait.’

It seems like he didn’t pick up on the underlying no in my answer. ‘Where have you been?’ Fitzgerald asks me.

My mouth grows dry. Does he know? Have Walter and I not been subtle enough? Oh my gosh, Fitzgerald totally knows. Do not start hyperventilate, stay calm, Penny. ‘Ask him if he’s stalking you,’ I hear Walter’s soft tone in my ear.

That seems doable. ‘You stalking me?’

He must be surprised that those words roll out of my mouth. I mean, I didn’t expect them from me either. ‘No, just wondering. Saw you getting on a bus after class.’

‘He really is stalking you,’ Walter says in my ear.

‘Sounds like you’re stalking me after all.’ Oh my goodness, Penny! What on earth is happening? I don’t know if I was supposed to repeat that.

Fitzgerald is flabbergasted to say the least and he actually walks away. Did I just do that? ‘He’s gone,’ I whisper.

‘That’s my girl,’ Walter chuckles. ‘Proud of you, princess. Asshole really doesn’t take no for an answer. I am tempted to fail him for my class.’

I start to laugh, as I make my way to my dorm. ‘You don’t have to do that.’

‘I hate his guts.’

‘Don’t use the word hate,’ I scold him. ‘Instead, use the word despise.’

‘Not with him, I won’t.’

I quickly walk up the stairs and let out a deep sigh when I’m back in my own dorm. ‘I arrived safe and sound in my room,’ I tell him. ‘Thank you for letting me stay over at your place. I really don’t do well in thunderstorms.’

‘Of course,’ he says, and I can almost hear the grin in his voice. ‘Can’t have you alone during a power cut. Also, it’s quite nice not to be alone.’

A certain vulnerability I was not expecting from him, let alone over the phone. ‘It sure was,’ I agree.

‘I’ll call you later,’ he tells me.

‘Alright, of course.’

‘Take care, princess.’

[vodkassassin]

Hey hun! Reminding you about that Moshang list like you asked!

Sorry this took so long, I ran out of energy and didn’t get any more until like, yesterday. Okay, so! Moshang fic recs!!

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it must follow, as the night the day by Tossawary. Chapters: 7/7, words: 26,342

Summary: Airplane Bro transmigrates into his own web-novel only to find out that the System messed up his world! Shang Qinghua is a demon in this world! All the characters supposed to be humans are demons in this world! And all the characters supposed to be demons are...?

Vod Notes: You simply cannot go wrong with Tossawary. They have the most scrumptious servings of Moshang in all the land. For this specific one, we’re gifted with a lovely Role Reversal AU! It’s got everything! Demon!SQH who is a absolute mess of a man? Serious cultivator MBJ who is stoic and cold but has the heart of a hero (or just a heart hardwired for SQH specifically)? Espionage? Feed it to me slowly like grapes. 11/10

You Will Never Step Lightly in the Dark by Janusoverlord. Chapters: 11/11, words 57,218

Summary: Shang Qinghua wakes up in the aftermath of Tianlang-Jun's rampage on Cang Qiong Mountain and has to navigate the delicate political situation he now finds himself in. Luo Binghe is building a harem with Shen Qingqiu as his first, and honestly most terrifying, husband. Yet, Luo Binghe seems to be turning his eyes to Shang Qinghua as a possibility as well. Excuse you? What is this? He didn't sign up for this!

Vod Notes: holy fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck this one blew my entire mind! Not only do we have SQH looking out for number one (which is himself, bless you my son) when shit turns strictly bad, but we have a absolutely, one of a kind, PHENOMENAL badass SQQ who is supporting his bro and fucking shit up left and right and everywhere for Airplane’s sake. God. This was like drinking fine wine. Breathtaking, spectacular. My life has been changed. MBJ spends most of this being a big, sulky, upset mess but don’t worry, cucumberplane fixes that up themselves. LBH get’s put in time out by both his husbands (because this is LBH/SQQ/LQG), because he fucks up in this majorly and SQQ isn’t fucking happy and doesn’t let him get away with it just because he gives him the puppy eyes and I AM LIVINGGGGGGGGG!! TLDR: simply superb badass cucumberplane, sad boy MBJ hours, and LQG gets stuck with babysit the naughty demon king duty. VERDICT: umm?! 7000/10

A Queen’s Trials (And How to Speedrun Them) by daddykeehl. Chapters: 1/8(as of 4/17/21), words: 25,000.

Summary: Shang Qinghua is now well on his way to the same happily-ever-after that every protagonist gets, but two things stand in his way. The Queen's Trials, and a council that just won't give up. Too bad for them, they really don't know who they're dealing with.

Vod Notes: Sorry I can’t hear any of your questions over the loud, shrill screams of my absolute LOVE for this story. it’s not finished, no, but it’s set up in arcs per chapter, so I’m fine with waiting for the next one to come along, and so will you if you read this. Because, lemme tell you. Fucking amazing. An SQH who knows everything about the North? He’s God, dammit, why wouldn’t he? Using that to his advantage? Not just to prolong his life, but to legally win the right to marry MBJ. God, this story is just absolutely breathtaking. I was speechless when I got to the end of chapter one. The sheer level of worldbuilding! Catch me with actual hearts in my eyes. The small DETAILS! The magnificently built OCs! The culture, the writing! The character interactions! SQH goes around accidentally winning the lifelong loyalty of every badass, OP demon in the Northern realm. I am still screeching. daddykeehl you’re my number one. fucking 200k/10 heart eyes emoji, heart eyes emoji (also, it’s part of a series! The story before this one, Quick, Easy Steps To Realizing You’re The Queen Consort, is also VERY good.)

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

It's Delicate: Part II

Summary: Spencer Reid finds himself at a gas station at 2:00 am, thinking he’s only leaving with a cup of crappy coffee. But something taped to the door catches his eye. Spencer leaves the gas station with more than he intended: the chance at a friend, and maybe something more along the way.

Word Count: 3.6 k

Author’s Note: Here's the second part in It's Delicate, my first chapter fic. I've planned out kind of where I see this eventually going! Thank you to anyone who reads, likes, comments, and reblogs. It really means the world to me.

Content Warnings: Expletive language (3 uses), mentions of drug use, sexual innuendo

READ PART I

It's Delicate Masterlist

It's Delicate

Sitting on the plane, Spencer looks out from the little window. For hours, there’s been nothing but corn fields and clouds. It’s eerily peaceful, being there high above the clouds. His whole life Spencer has felt this distance between him and everyone else, but nothing makes that feeling more prominent than being strapped in a glorified metal box 35,000 feet off the Earth’s surface. But the thing is, Spencer does need to be flying above the trees to feel lonely. He can do that with two feet on the ground.

Luke sits across Spencer, the table between them and a deck of playing cards are spread out across its surface. He has to nudge Spencer’s leg from under the table, trying to bring him back to reality as he stares out the window.

“Whatcha thinking,” Luke asks, Spencer has been noticing more and more that Luke is one of the few people that actually listens to him.

Spencer, whose mind is racing too fast to even formulate an articulate thought, attempts to dodge Luke’s question with a noncommittal shrug.

“Reid, these cases are hard for all of us, you gotta know that man,” Luke says, laying down a four of a kind.

Spencer narrows his eyes, shocked that it hasn’t clicked yet for the rest of the team. He cracks his neck, preparing to answer Luke.

“We almost locked up an innocent man, Alvez. I almost sent another man to the same fate as myself. What kind of fucked up message is that?” Spencer says, throwing down the cards on the table. He doesn’t wait for Luke to respond.

“I fold,”

Spencer walks off into the small kitchenette to make a cup of coffee. He doesn’t want to think about his increased reliance on coffee, because he knows it’s a hot cup of coffee or a cold needle of Dilaudid in his veins. Spencer checks his watch, it’s 10:17 pm, maybe too late to find a meeting at a church or rec center somewhere.

He sneaks a peak at his phone, which was still unfortunately on Airplane Mode, he hasn’t even gotten a chance to see if Y/N has responded. He doesn’t know much about her, just as much as she knows about him.

It’s a brave new world for Spencer and he’s knee deep into the unknown.

Spencer can feel Luke’s eyes on him. He just knows that the minute he gets home, a certain tech expert will be ringing him. He knows that it’s Luke’s way of caring, but for someone who’s been alone for so long, having people that actually care is almost drowning.

Walking back to his seat, Spencer hands Luke a coffee. He smiles slightly; it’s the awkward smile that he used to make when intimating police chiefs and idiot cops would look him up and down like he’s a TA. It’s a peace offering for Luke, who despite his tough looking exterior, is one of the kindest people Spencer knows.

“Look, Reid. I’m sorry that we didn’t put it together. It’s just that man that we caught, he’s not like you. He’s not innocent of crimes, he’s just innocent of this crime,” Luke says in an attempt to make Spencer feel a little bit better.

“The thing is Luke, I’m exactly like that man,”

Spencer returns to staring out the window. The cards and the coffee on the table are long ignored for the silence that is found when you’re high above the clouds.

--

Spencer hears Tara and Emily murmur quietly about going out for a round of drinks. Luke accepts, while JJ and Matt decline, eager to get home to their families. Emily looks over at Spencer, her eyes silently scanning him, his body language. Spencer knows that there’s nothing he can hide from Emily, so there’s no use in trying to pretend he’s alright when she can take one look at him and know that nothing is right.

“You guys have fun, I’m going to head home and get some sleep. I plan on visiting my mom tomorrow and mornings are usually better for her,” Spencer says, slinging his go bag around his shoulders and making the trek back to the security to check out.

He walks slowly, enjoying the sound of the crickets chirping as he trudges along. Spencer tries not to think about the man, Richard, who was almost locked up for a crime that he didn’t commit. Spencer is pretty sure that being the person to throw an innocent man in jail is worse than being the innocent man in jail.

Spencer’s phone buzzes loudly, disturbing the silence of his walk. He looks at the phone to see a couple of messages from Y/N. Spencer slides open the lock to his phone and hits the button to read her messages.

Y/N: Spencer...that has a nice ring to it. So tell me a little bit about yourself. Your big three, but as books. Go! 🌞🌙⬆️

Furrowing his brow, Spencer reads the message over again. He does not have a clue what “big three” means, but it seems like some sort of pop culture thing that he’s not skilled in. He wants to text Garcia for a translation, but he’s also not too keen on telling her how he came across Y/N’s number.

Y/N: I assume you’re working, but I'm kind of impatient so I’ll give you mine 🙃 I’m a Little Women sun, an Emma moon, and an In Cold Blood rising.

Y/N: Oh no….I hope my astrology didn’t turn you off

Y/N: Not that I was trying to turn you on

Y/N: omg Y/N please shut the fuck up

Astrology? Spencer isn’t one to judge, but he’s a scientist first and foremost. The idea that there is something written about him in the stars seems like ludicrous. He decided to ignore the other messages, particularly the ones with a little more than slight innuendo.

Spencer: Y/N- I’m sorry I just got out of work. As for my big three, I’m not sure about astrology. I don’t particularly believe in pseudoscience. But those are good choices. In Cold Blood is an excellent choice. Capote spent years researching the case. In fact his prose and technique inspired the entire “Nonfiction novel” genre. The world of journalism and true crime would not be where it is without Capote’s work.

Y/N: Oh my god. You are a total nerd. 🙀

That stops Spencer right in his tracks. He’s only a couple of yards away from the Volvo at this point, but somehow it feels a million miles away. You are a total nerd. The words replay in his mind as the small gray bubbles pop up again. Spencer can feel his heart constrict at Y/N’s words. It’s ridiculous, he’s nearly 34 and is getting upset that a stranger called him a nerd. Spencer unlocks his car and tosses his go bag, phone included onto the passenger seat.

After a couple of minutes his phone buzzes again. He’s half tempted to answer it, but the way his heart seems to beat faster tells him to ignore it.

Y/N: I fucking love it and I think you’ll love this too

Spencer’s entire demeanor changes as he reads the message. He’s always had difficulties reading emotion in writing, especially when he can’t analyze the handwriting. Sometimes, it’s even harder to judge inflection during conversations. Maybe that is why Spencer has spent all this time studying people, studying the way that their minds work. Before he can get too lost in his thoughts, another message pops up.

Y/N: Meet Capote and Second Cat

Y/N: They are the loves of my life

Spencer: They are very...distinguished looking. Capote is an excellent name choice then. Second Cat is also quite catchy.

Spencer hesitates before sending the message, he notices that Y/N uses what Garcia calls “emojis” quite frequently. He assumes that it’s some sort of “texting lingo” that expresses emotion in small graphics. Great, he thinks. He already has a difficult time deciphering Y/N’s cryptic wording and now he’s got to analyze these emojis.

Maybe he should profile her. He re-reads the message and settles on a “😄” because he figures that he can’t go wrong with offering Y/N a smile.

Spencer: I don’t have a cat, but when I was a kid I always wanted one, they’re quite good companions for those that live several different kinds of lifestyles. From active to sedentary, they are adaptable and independent. Honestly they are the perfect pet.

Y/N: Is this your way of telling you’re a crazy cat man? 😜 🙀

Spencer, still sitting in his car that’s parked in the parking lot, chuckles at Y/N’s response to his message. Maybe it’s just easier to ignore his rambling when it’s done through 1s and 0s and there isn’t a face to the words.

Spencer: I’m actually more of a fish guy

Y/N: Like a “I-like-to-go-fishing-and-post-picture-of-myself-kissing-my-catch-on-Tinder” kind of fish guy or...I can’t think of any other kind of fish men

Spencer, not totally understanding the obvious joke that Y/N is trying to make, settles on something that he hasn’t really ever tried: being himself.

Spencer: Not quite sure what a Tinder is, but I think fishing is terrifying and kissing a fish is something out of nightmares. But his name is Leo

Y/N: DiCaprio?

Spencer: Uhh, Tolstoy

Y/N: Good😉 ⚔️🕊️ 🇷🇺

Spencer glances at his clock on the control panel, it tells him that he’s been messaging with Y/N back and forth for nearly 22 minutes. He nearly forgot how tired he was.

Spencer: Y/N- I’m so sorry but, I just got to my car to drive home from work. I’ll text you tomorrow morning about the book club, maybe we can figure out some things.

Y/N: OMG Spencer!! you should have told me. I’ve been talking ur ear off. sleep well and yes please tomorrow we can talk about the book club

Y/N: Good night, Book Buddy 😴

Spencer wants to respond to Y/N, but he doesn’t know what to say. She seems to text so easily, and judging by that, she must be around Spencer’s age or a little bit younger. Besides JJ and Penelope, Spencer has never had a friend close to his age. It’s a strange new territory for him and he’s walking in head first into No Man’s Land.

He starts his Volvo, the check engine still lights but, reminding him once again to go get it fixed. Driving away from the parking lot, Spencer hands over his ID to Gina, the security guard. She checks his ID and gives him a tired smile. Spencer, as he drives home to his apartment, thinking about what books he and Y/N will read together. He wonders what kind of books are her favorite, if they have any authors that they can obsess over together, or if what she thinks a poet’s prose is.

The summer air rushing in through the window is nowhere as warm and as comforting as thought of Spencer finally having a friend that isn’t able to read the scars of his past in the text bubbles that pop up on her screen.

--

When Spencer opens his eyes for the first time that morning, he isn’t sure where he is. Sometimes, before he can stop his thoughts from travelling there, Spencer thinks he’s still in jail. He hates the feeling of terror that rushes over him but he hates the idea of being vulnerable a little bit more. But the softness of his pillows and the coolness of his cotton sheets remind him that he’s not sleeping on a hard cot with only a layer of fabric over his body. The light streams in through the half closed blinds, and Spencer judges by how brightly the sun shines in, it must be around 9:45 am.

He supposes that he prefers the way the sun’s rays paint horizontal bars across his face more than the vertical bars that cast gray shadows over his cell at Milburn Penitentiary.

It’s a day off from work, so Spencer didn’t set an alarm, instead allowing his mind and his body to catch up on some much needed rest. The nightmares have been getting better, but his dreams are still haunted by the way that he hardly recognizes himself anymore. Deciding that it will be a day spent in pajamas, Spencer goes to his bookshelf in his bedroom to pick out a couple of novels to read while he drinks his morning coffee and defrosts some of Luke’s strawberry pastries.

Before heading out of his room, Spencer stops himself in the doorway. He replays the events of last night. He declined to go out with the rest of the team, while he walked to his car he thought about the crickets telling the temperature, and he read over Y/N’s messages.

Y/N.

He promised he’d text her back in the morning about their book club. Last night, she didn’t seem to mind Spencer’s long messages and awkward phrasing. He still doesn’t really know how this Book Buddy thing would work, but since he found Y/N’s number on the flyer, he can only assume that she knows what to do. He leaps on his bed, landing with thud on his belly, to grab his phone that charges on his nightstand.

Spencer settles at his kitchen table, a cup of steaming hot Dark Roast coffee in a Captain Spock mug in one hand and, surprisingly, his phone in the other. He scrolls through the messages from last night, Y/N’s cat and emojis tempt a smile to Spencer’s face.

Not entirely sure how to start the conversation again, Spencer looks around for inspiration until his eyes land on a certain fish tank in the corner of his apartment. He snaps a quick picture of Leo and attaches it to the message.

Spencer: Good Morning from Leo & Spencer

Spencer sets down his phone after a moment when he realizes that Y/N is probably not going to answer him back in a couple of seconds. He takes out a strawberry pastry from his freezer and puts it into the toaster oven on a non-stick baking sheet. His thumbs run across the texture of the book he started on the plane ride after his and Luke’s ill fated poker game. It's a thin book of collected essays on the meaning of life. Camus, to Spencer, is a little pessimistic with his droning on about the meaninglessness of life. Though Spence has seen the absolute worst that humanity has to offer, he still has to believe that there’s a deeper meaning behind it all.

His toaster oven rings, altering him so that his toasted strawberry pastry is cooked. He plates his breakfast and pours himself another cup of coffee- he’ll need it to get through Camus’s section on Absurdism this early in the morning. But the flash of Spencer’s phone screen sends him reaching for his phone. Y/N replied to his message.

Y/N: hi leo!!!

Y/N: and you too Spencer :) Did you get a good night’s sleep. You got back late it seems.

Spencer, taking a bite of the strawberry pastry, ignores the burning sensation in his mouth. He types out a response to Y/N as he washes down the bite with a swing of coffee.

Spencer: I did, thank you. Can you tell me a little bit more about this book buddy thing. From what I gathered from the flyer it’s like a little book club of our own and we meet at the bookstore?

It doesn’t take long for Y/N to respond. The little gray dots pop up almost immediately after Spencer’s message is delivered.

Y/N: That’s about right! Is it okay if I call you? Kinda easier to talk that way 🤷‍♀️

Spencer reads over the message a couple of times. He doesn’t really like to talk on the phone and only does it out of necessity. He’s pretty sure that his voice is grating and his vocal fry is quite irritating. Yet, he finds himself replying “yes” to Y/N. Soon enough, his phone buzzes in his hand and Spencer has to remind himself how to pick up a call.

“Spencer? Um, this is Spencer Reid, right?” the voice says. It’s a woman’s voice and he can only assume that it’s Y/N, considering it is her phone number calling him.

“Y/N, uh hi. This is Dr. Spencer- I mean this is Spencer,” he says, nearly forgetting that Y/N doesn’t know him as Dr. Reid, but as just Spencer. It’s been a long time since someone has known him as Spencer.

“Oh great! It’s wonderful to finally have a voice to your name. So about these buddy reads. You seem to have a good grasp of what they are,” Y/N’s voice trails off a little bit at the end and Spencer finds it natural to fill in the silence.

“Yes, the flyer was quite informative. But I was wondering, do we read the same books or do we read different books?” Spencer asks, trying to restrain himself from scaring Y/N off. But something about her made him think that she didn’t scare easily.

Y/N chuckles lightly in the speaker of her phone, “that’s a good question, uh, I was actually going to ask you what you would rather. We can read the same books, or if it’s okay with you we can choose what the other would read for that week,”

“Oh really?” Spencer says, very much aware how his voice rises a couple of octaves. He can’t trust himself to hold back on rambling over the phone Y/N, so he resorts to using his strained, brittle voice that’s full of hesitation and restraint.

“That’s the plan, so whatcha thinking, Spencer,” Y/N says playfully, like she can sense that phone conversations maybe not make him feel at ease. There’s something so natural and silvery about her voice; it reminds Spencer of an audiobook reader. While he’s not too keen on audiobooks, he’s sure that he’d listen to anything she reads or has to say.

“Um, I think it sounds interesting to pick out books for each other. I tend to gravitate towards more technical books or even books that aren’t in English so, uh, I think it would be interesting to get out of my comfort zone,” Spencer says, cringing internally at using the word “interesting” twice in a couple of sentences.

“Well, as long as you don’t pick out something in physics or anything by Ayn Rand then I’d say we’re good,” Y/N says. Spencer thinks it’s a joke, but he’s not too sure how to respond.

“Will you still be my Book Buddy if I read 1 out of 2 of those?” Spencer asks, hoping she’d get that he is trying to continue the joke.

“Oh no Spencer please don’t tell me you’re an Ayn Rand fanboy,” she says, and by the airy way she laughs, Spencer ventures to guess his joke landed successfully.

“So,” Spencer starts, he never has made plans with people outside of his team, and on top of that, there’s something about Y/N’s quickness that makes him a little nervous to meet her.

“I’m talking your ear off, aren’t I? Please Spencer, if you’re going to be my Book Buddy, you’re going to have to get used to me talking a lot, especially you pick out good books, which, I already have a feeling you’re going to be favorite Book Buddy,”

For once in his life, Spencer doesn’t really know how to respond. He lets out something in between a strangled laughter and a noncommittal chuckle.

“So,” Y/N says, mirroring Spencer’s earlier words, “so are you free tonight, I can meet you at the bookstore..”

Y/N’s voice trails off and Spencer leaps to finish her sentences. It doesn’t feel like his interjecting or interrupting, but like he’s snapping a puzzle piece together.

“Does 7 work?” “7 is great, Spencer. It’s a date,”

Those three little words send Spencer’s eyes flying wide open. He scrambles to come up with answer to louden the silence that falls, but he swears he can hear a string of quiet curses before Y/N manages to squeak out a small “goodbye,”

Y/N’s last words play back in Spencer’s ears. He scolds himself for being so weird and awkward that the very idea of going on a date with him would send Y/N in a tizzy. It’s not a date, because Spencer can’t think about it being a date. It’s not a date because of the looming photo above his mantle that freezes his future in the past. It’s not a date because of the nightmare of vertical bars that haunt his dreams

It’s not a date. It’s so not a date because Spencer would call Luke to come over to help him if it was.

“Hey Luke,” Spencer says, trying to control the nervous waves in his voice, “no man, I’m fine, it’s uh, easier if you just come over. I’m fine, really,”

Y/N: I really hope you're not an Ayn Rand fanboy 😉

It’s so not a date.

--THANK YOU FOR READING--

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Top Shelf: Chapter 8- Drunk In Love

Paring: Bucky x reader (Bookshop/bartender AU)

Word Count: 2,656

Summary: You have a fun night hanging with Bucky at the bar and a wonderful time at Sunday dinner with grandma but then Bucky drops some bad news...

Author’s Note: So I know I usually post on Monday’s but this week is the HBC’s week of kinks and I’m super excited and plan on writing something small each day so I figured I would put this out a day early since it was ready. Thank you all for your continued support. I used the photo of 1940s!Bucky as Bucky’s grandpa :) I love him so. Your amazing kindess and loveliness really keeps me going with this. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading! Love you all ❤❤❤ (ps the italics toward the end is Betty’s story of how she met James/grandpa :)

Warnings: Fluff, sweet Bucky (when is he not haha), smut (thigh riding, sorry not sorry), implied smut, alcohol consumption, angst (I’m sorry!) 18+ only please

Previous Chapters: 

Chapter 1: Enchantment

Chapter 2: Cookie Crumble

Chapter 3: Sweet Anticipation

Chapter 4: Read Between the Limes

Chapter 5: Secrets on the Shelf

Chapter 6: Love Between the Covers

Chapter 7: Love Lines & Sould Finds

“Yes,” you whisper, suddenly feeling like you jumped the gun, but the words had just spilled out. “I’d love to be your boyfriend, if you’ll have me?” He says the first part so decisively and with so much certainty that you just stare up at him and smile. “So, is that a yes?” he asks, his grin lopsided. You jump and throw your arms around his neck, kissing him firmly before breaking into a smile and whispering, “yes, definitely yes.”

When the two of you finally come back to reality you see Sam standing with his arm around Nat, both giving you knowing smiles.  “Back to work Barnes,” Sam says, his eyes bright. “Oh, yea!” Bucky replies, giving you a squeeze and another quick kiss. He hops around the bar; his head held a bit higher and a pep in his step.

Nat rushes over and grabs your hands, “I TOLD YOU!” she yells over the loud chatter of the bar. You try to contain your happiness to a small squeal but fail when she starts hopping. “I feel like I’m drunk but I haven’t even had a sip of my drink yet! Speaking of, where are our drinks?” She reaches behind you and grabs two cold glasses, handing you one. “Try it! It’s amazing!”

The rest of the night is spent chatting and laughing with Nat while Sam and Bucky work the bar. More often than you’d like to admit your eyes drift to Bucky behind the bar. His sleeves are rolled up and the top few buttons of his shirt are undone, giving you plenty to ogle. Every so often he catches you staring, and you watch his eyes darken making your breath hitch. “Stop eye fucking your boyfriend, please,” Nat teases, emphasizing the word boyfriend.

With a startle you whip your head around, “what?!? I am not doing any such thing.” You turn back to look at Bucky, his eyes crinkled in a smile as he laughs. “I mean, maybe that’s exactly what I was doing but can you blame me? Look at him!” Now Nat throws her head back with laughter, “no, I guess I can’t.” Throwing Bucky a wink and an appreciative smile, you try to keep a straight face as you waggle your eyebrows.

It’s after 2am when the bar starts to close, you and Nat swiveling around on the stools and giggling. “Should we help them clean up?” Nat blows a raspberry, making a face and says, “no way!” a little too loudly. “No way, what?” Sam asks, sidling up beside Nat with a smirk. “Nat doesn’t think we should help you two clean up,” you say quickly, trying not to laugh. “Oh, I see how it is,” Sam teases. Bucky catches your eye as he’s walking to the back and motions for you to follow. You tell Nat and Sam you’ll be right back, leaving them to their fun.

Following Bucky to the back you watch him place the container of clean glasses down on counter. He rinses his hands and wipes them clean with a towel before starting to unbutton his shirt. You’re leaning in the doorway, your eyes fixed on his long fingers as they easily work their way down his shirt. He reaches the bottom and looks up, pulling his shirt off and smirking at your reaction. “See something you like, doll?”

Your eyes travel down his chest, following the trail of hair from his pecs to the waistband of his jeans. His ab muscles flex as he grabs his backpack and pulls out a tee shirt, your bottom lip now caught between your teeth as you try to hold back a moan. Throwing the tee shirt over his shoulder he stalks toward you, his arm reaching over your head and pulling the door shut with a click, the motion pushing you closer to him as the door nudges your back.

“Hi,” is all you manage to say, your fingers dancing over his skin as pins you against the door. His hands cup your face, gently brushing your hair back before he kisses you, slow and deep. He parts your leg with his thigh, and you gasp into his mouth, your dress riding up, so the fabric of your underwear rubs on his jeans. You can’t help the way your hips move along the thick muscle of his thigh, the friction hitting just the right spot.

Grabbing onto his shoulders you continue moving your hips back and forth, your orgasm building quickly as Bucky’s mouth travels over your neck. “Bucky, oh my god,” is all that leaves your mouth before your body trembles and you cum on his thigh, your wetness soaking through your underwear.

Bucky carefully moves his leg and holds you up, bringing your lips to his. “That was so fucking hot,” he murmurs into your mouth. “We need to go home; my jeans are way too tight right now.” You giggle and give him a nod, running your hand over the bulge in his pants, “yes, I want to go home right now.”

With quick goodbyes to Nat and Sam you leave the bar. The cool night air is a stark contrast to your heated skin as you make your way down Eldridge Street. Bucky can’t keep his hands off you, stopping to kiss you every few feet. When you finally reach his building, he opens the door and practically sprints up the steps, the two of you falling through the doorway of his apartment in a lip lock.

You wake to the warmth of the early morning sun shining through Bucky’s bedroom window. Your body is tangled with his as he peacefully sleeps. Brushing some hair from his face you give him a kiss and carefully get up, grabbing his tee shirt from the floor and throwing it over your naked body.

Tip toeing into the bathroom you wash up and give yourself a tour of his apartment. It’s unsurprisingly neat and comfortable, the warm colors and wooden furniture making it feel like a lived-in place. He has several bookshelves lining the walls in the living room and you smile to yourself, loving that he’s surrounded himself with them.

“You look so much better in my shirt than I do.” You look down at yourself before turning on your heel, “I could argue with you on that.” Bucky walks over, his sweats hung low on his hips. He winds his arms around your shoulders and holds you against his chest. “Hungry?” Just then your stomach grumbles and you both laugh. “I definitely could go for some breakfast!”

After breakfast and some fun in the shower you leave Bucky’s and return home to do laundry and bake the cookies for dinner at Betty’s. You decide you also want to try one of your new recipes for a chocolate pie, hoping to get an honest opinion from both Bucky and his grandma. The day goes by quickly as you bake and clean, Bucky texting you silly pictures from the book shop.

‘I wish I didn’t have to work tonight😢.’ You read his text, wishing the same. You want to go to the bar again, but you promised Nat some girl time and you needed to do some things around your apartment. ‘I know, me too, I miss you.’ You send the text before thinking it through, cringing to yourself and hoping you didn’t overstep.

An, ‘I miss you more❤,’ comes through almost instantly and with a giant sigh of relief, you send several heart emojis back followed by a picture of your finished chocolate pie. ‘I tried a new recipe! Hopefully, you guys will like it🥰!’ The next few texts come through quickly, Bucky making his excitement know. Nat arrives shortly after and you veg on the couch with cookies and wine, hardly talking about anything other than the boys.

When Sunday afternoon arrives, you’re pacing your apartment, rambling to Nat on the phone. “Why am I all of a sudden nervous, it’s not like I’m meeting his parents and I’ve met Betty before!” Chewing on your lip you huff into the phone causing Nat to laugh, “listen, calm down, eat a cookie and get dressed or you’re going to be late.”

Bucky meets you at your apartment and you catch a cab together, his hand in yours as you walk to Betty’s apartment. “This stuff smells amazing, I can’t wait to eat it all,” he says, pulling you into his side. Kissing the top of your head, he whispers, “she already loves you, don’t worry about anything.” You let your shoulders relax feeling somewhat lighter after his sweet words.

Betty’s apartment door is slightly ajar, the delicious smell of lasagna wafting through the small space. “Oh man, that smells so good,” you say as Bucky opens the door. “Hey grandma, we’re here!” Betty pokes her head around the corner of the kitchen with a smile, “oh good, kids, come on in! I need some help.”

You brush past Bucky and put the cookies and pie on the table, going over to Betty and asking, “what can I do?” She pats your cheek and instructs you to set the table, yelling at Bucky to help get the lasagna out of the oven and get the drinks.

Once the table is set and the three of you are seated Betty gets to talking. You had checked with Bucky on the way over, asking him if it was ok to ask her questions about his grandpa, James. He assured you it would be fine, and she would be happy to talk about him. And she was.

We met when I was 19, not long before the Vietnam War. James was so handsome with his dark hair and beautiful blue eyes. It was summer and I was at Coney Island with my friends and some of the army boys had come out to have some fun. The moment I laid eyes on him; I knew. “Knew what,” you asked, your head cocked to the side and a dreamy look in your eyes.

That I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. Thankfully, he felt the same because that night my life changed forever. Just like any other show off he approached me and asked if he could try to win me one of the stuffed bears at the water gun game. He kept saying he was a good shot. Well, turns out, he won three times in a row and I got the biggest stuff bear they had. “She still has it too,” Bucky chimed in with a smile. You squeeze his hand, “it’s all so romantic.”

We spent the whole evening together. James took me for a walk on the beach that night and we bonded over our love of books and literature, quoting all our favorite stories and authors. It almost felt too good to be true but when we kissed for the first time on that sand, I knew he would be the last man I ever kissed.

He went to Vietnam. I knew he was going to and I had to let him, but it was the hardest thing I ever had to do. So hard, I wasn’t sure I would make it through. I wrote him every day and sent him books I had read with my notes in the margin. They were more often just the words in my heart that had leaked onto the page. He kept them all of course, telling me they gotten him through many nights.

When he returned home, we got married right away. It was a small wedding but just what we wanted. After that we moved into this apartment and I got pregnant in the next year. One day, we were walking down W 15th street, or more like I was waddling because I was about 8 months pregnant and we passed this quaint little bookshop. It was one of those moments where we looked at each other and it all just clicked.

Walking inside we were immediately surrounded by the familiar smell of old books. We spent the whole afternoon exploring the shelves for books for the baby’s library. We left with probably close to 30 books, hands, and hearts full.

Later than night when we were building the bookshelf for the baby’s room, James sat back and pulled me into his lap. He asked me what I wanted in life. I told him I had everything I wanted and more. He understood because he felt the same but then he added in a quiet voice, “what if we had our own library.”

At first, I didn’t know what he meant. Maybe one for the house? But then he started telling me his idea. He spoke with so much passion that I couldn’t have said no even if I wanted to. And I didn’t want to, I was all in. It was perfect for us.

So, after Bucky’s father was born, we saved up, bought the space, and turned it into the bookshop. From day one James was fully invested. He gave it so much of himself and we had so much success. Everything he did he did for us and I know he’s so happy that Bucky has taken over and we didn’t have to sell before he passed.

Betty slowly got up and walked to the living room, taking a photo off the mantle. “Would you grab the cookies and pie dear and Bucky put on the coffee please?” You both jump up and do as she asks, clearing the table and setting out the dessert and coffee cups. She returns with the photo and sits down, handing it to you. “That’s James and I in front of the bookshop the day it opened.”

Her smile is wide, but her eyes are sad. You look down at the picture, your own eyes blurred by tears, “you are beautiful, and James is so handsome. You really look like him Bucky.” When you look up, Bucky’s eyes are on you and not the picture. Something floats across his features that steals your breath. Something akin to pain but it quickly vanishes when Betty speaks again.

“Oh, my darling, this pie is scrumptious! You are quite the baker.” You and Bucky look over, smiling as she takes another bite. “I’m so glad you like it! Will you try some Bucky?” He reaches over and cuts a giant slice, “you bet I will!”

It seems as if the painful moment has passed as he happily chews the pie, groaning at how good it is. You kiss his cheek, taking a bite yourself and smiling. “It did come good! I have to add this to my recipe book.” The three of you enjoy dessert and more lovely conversation, helping Betty clean up before you leave.

You say goodbye and head out the door, promising to be back soon with more baked goods. Bucky’s hand is tight around yours as you walk down the street, deciding to take a stroll before getting a cab. The night is warm and beautiful as Bucky pulls you into his side. You can tell something is off but you’re not sure if you should ask. The moment with the picture sits at the forefront of your mind and you decide to take the gamble.

You stop walking and wrap your arms around him, “Bucky. Talk to me, what’s going on?” His brow furrows and his lips turn down in a frown. Your stomach sinks as thoughts that he is going to end it creep into your mind. He must notice the look in your eyes and quickly kisses you before saying, “it’s not you at all, you are perfect.” Taking a deep breath, he continues, “it’s the bookshop. I have barely been able to pay the rent these past two months. I don’t know what to do.”  

@aesthetical-bucky @bugsbucky @book-dragon-13 @buckys-broody-muffin @devynsdiary @eurynome827 @hawksmagnolia @hailmary-yramliah @hiddles-rose @itsunclebucky @ikaris-whore @jhangelface0523 @jewels2876 @loricameback @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @metal-armed-cuddly-dork @mushyjellybeans @marvelgirl7 @marvelandotherfandomimagines @nano--raptor​ @nerdypinupcrystal​ @randomfandompenguin​ @sallycanwait68​ @softpeachbarnes​ @scarletsoldierrr​ @the-wayward-robot​ @when-the-hell-is-bucky​ @nordlysinthewoods​ @moonybarnes​ @rinthehufflepuff​ @irishflutiegirl​ @jamesbarnesappreciationclub​ @fire-flv​ @nd1998sc​ @captainchrisstan​ @vherriepie​ @godofplumsandthunder​ @amandatar-06​ @throwmyheartawayagain​ @flyawaybay 

[firefly464]

The Real World - Chapter 9

:insert eyes emoji here because shits about to get real:

@i-have-this-now​ wrote the last part because she’s great and amazing and wonderful :D

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~~~

Wilbur sat in his office, staring at his computer screen in dismay. It had been roughly a week since him and Tubbo had gone and visited Tommy. Roughly a week since his friend's panic attack. A week since Tommy had started acting differently. His friend had been acting secretive all week, almost terrified in a strange way. He acted as if no one could see the way he flinched at loud noises, or the fearful look in his eyes whenever someone came too close. He had fumbled around with the phone, as if not even knowing how to use it. He had talked to Dream in an almost pleading tone, begging for… something, and Will didn’t know what it was. He had never seen his friend acting like that before. 

His hand traced over the long scar on his arm that Tommy had given him during his panic attack. He didn’t blame his friend at all for the wound, in fact it was mostly his own fault for trying to comfort him. At that moment, it had been clear that Tommy hadn’t actually been seeing him. He had seen someone, or something else. In Wilbur’s concern for his friend, he had reached out to comfort him, despite the fact that he knew it was a bad idea. 

His stupidity had earned him a long, jagged cut down the side of his forearm from the pencil that Tommy had been wielding as a weapon. He had jerked back with a hiss of pain. “Get the fuck away from me! I won’t let you hurt anyone else!” Tommy had screamed. 

Tubbo took a small step forward, his hands out in front of him comfortingly “Tommy, you’re ok, I promise. No one is going to hurt you.” His voice was soft and calm, as if he was talking to a wild animal. Based on the look in Tommy’s eyes, it wasn’t too far off from the truth. 

Tommy’s blue eyes had snapped over to Tubbo, as if trying to figure out what he was supposed to do. “Tubbo? Tubbo you need to run! He’s going to kill you, he’s going to fucking kill you and burn our home to the ground!” 

“Hey, it's all right. I’m fine, see? No one is going to kill me.”

Desperately, Tommy grabbed his friend's shoulders, trying to get it through Tubbo’s head that he needed to run. “You don’t get it. H-He’s going to kill all of you. You need to find the others and warn them. I can’t… I can’t fucking lose you.”

“Tommy, take a deep breath. You’re safe. I promise that we’re both safe.”

“But Dream-” he shuttered, a wave of sobs running through him, “God this is my fault. Why the fuck did I listen to him? Now you’re all going to fucking die because of me!” 

Wilbur stared intently at the scar on his arm, trying to figure out what the hell Tommy had meant. Clearly, Dream had done something to him. But what? What had he done that was so terrible, it had caused the boy to collapse over a simple video clip? Will had rewatched the clip several times, trying to pinpoint exactly what could have possibly triggered the terrible PTSD. He had found nothing.

After WIlbur and Tubbo had left Tommy’s house, it had seemed like things were slowly but surely returning back to normal. Tommy had quickly gone from acting as if he knew nothing about the world around him or how to do anything, to slowly but surely returning to his old, chipper self. Even so, it didn’t feel right. Something was still wrong. His jokes all felt forced, his smiles all fake. Whenever they were in a call together, his words all felt carefully planned out, as if he were scared of saying something wrong. No one brought up his outburst, but it was clear that they were all thinking about it. 

At one point, Tubbo had hesitantly suggested that Tommy get on the DreamSMP, clearly scared of triggering another panic attack. 

However, Tommy had just gone silent, before very quietly saying, “What…?” His voice had been filled with a hesitant hope. Hope for what, Will didn’t know. But it was something that he hadn’t heard in his friend's voice all week, and he wasn’t going to question it. 

“The SMP? The server?” “How do I… How do I do that?” He had asked quietly.

Tubbo had ended up walking his friend through the entire process of getting online, never once asking why or sounding annoyed. It was clear how important this was to Tommy, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to ruin it by teasing. 

As Tommy had logged onto the server, the discord call was silent. No one spoke as he spun in a slow circle, taking in everything around him. Not a word was muttered as he cautiously moved around. The only sound that could be heard were the quiet sobs being picked up by his mic.

“Home…” He had whispered quietly, the sound just barely loud enough to be picked up over discord. 

God, none of it made any sense. None of it made any damn sense, and just thinking about it made Wilbur’s head hurt. Tommy acted as though he was an entirely different person. At first, Will had just attributed his strange behavior to PTSD. A strange way of coping after whatever hell he had gone through. But now… Now he wasn’t so sure. Tommy was recovering far too quickly for it to be merely PTSD. So what the hell was going on? He needed to talk to Tubbo. They needed answers.

~~~

The next day, Tommy was sitting in front of his computer, staring at the walls of L’manberg. Looking at it made his chest hurt with homesickness, but it was his only connection to his old life. It may not have been as impressive as the real thing, but it was still beautiful in its own right. Ever since the others had shown him the server, he had spent most of his time on it. He hadn’t exactly done anything, but simply walking around the familiar lands of his home felt calming. 

A ring sounded from his computer, making him jump. It took him a couple seconds to calm down enough to register that it was only an incoming call, and not any sort of attack. With a slightly trembling hand, he answered. 

Silence. “Hello?” he asked, trying to see what was going on. 

“Hey Tommy.” Tubbo’s voice was reserved, almost nervous in a way. Tommy could feel his muscles tense. The last time he had heard his friend speak like this was during the war. Something had happened. Something must have happened.

“What's wrong? Are you ok? Did something bad happen?” he asked, trying to figure out what was going on. 

“What? No, no. We just uh… We just wanted to ask you something.”

“I mean, go for it…? Are you sure everything is alright?” 

“We’re fine. Tommy, I want you to answer me honestly, got it?” Wilbur’s voice cut interrupted his rampaging thoughts. Thoughts of how his friends were hurt. Thoughts of what had gone wrong. Thoughts of how Dream might have gotten to them… “Tommy, what happened to you?”

“I told you already. I don’t remember,” he replied half heartedly, his mind elsewhere. 

“I think we all know that isn’t true. Tommy, what did Dream do?”

That brought his train of thought to a screeching halt. What did they know? How did they figure it out? What had he done wrong? “W-what? What do you mean?” 

“Alright, I’ll let you in on a little secret. Tommyinit wasn’t this shit of a liar. He was bad at it, yeah, but at least he could lie without sounding like a moron. I’m going to ask this once, and I expect a straight answer. Who the hell are you?” 

Tommy felt like his blood had frozen in his veins. They knew, they fucking knew. Dream was going to kill him. Dream was going to follow through with his threat. “I uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Wilbur ran a hand through his hair. “Alright. If you aren’t going to give us a straight answer, I might as well ask Dream himself.”

“NO!” He screamed. If Will went and asked Dream, then Dream would think that Tommy had snitched. Then, who knows what would happen. “Please don’t talk to Dream about it. Please.” 

Will had already left the call.

~~~

“Yeah, you’re right, chat. Hold on let me check if he’s online,” Eret said, switching browsers from Minecraft to Discord. “Yep, he’s in VC 3 with Tubbo.” 

Eret clicked on the voice chat. He tried to talk yet Tubbo cut him off. “Oh fuck, we aren’t in a private VC.”

“Sorry, a wha-”

“Er… Hello?” Eret said. The two of them suddenly stopped talking. “So, what’re you two up to?”

“...Eret?” Tommy said, it sounded more like a statement than a question.

“Am I intruding on something? I can go if you’d like.” Eret replied, hoping to lighten the tension on the situation. Eret’s twitch chat was going insane, spamming questions and shouting. Eret wasn’t really focused on the chat.

“Hold on, I think we should go to a privat-” Tubbo spoke but was cut off.

“No, that- that’s not right- I- you fucking-” Tommy started, and was immediately removed from the VC. Tubbo also exited the VC seconds after.

“It is actually getting a bit late here so I guess it’s time to end the stream.” Eret tried to make an excuse to end the stream. “I’ll see you later guys. I love you all so much, thank you for all the support this stream. I think I’m gonna be streaming tomorrow? Still not sure. Anyways, I’ll see you guys later. Peace.” 

He quickly exited Twitch and stopped streaming. Tommy sounded… mad? Upset? Scared? Eret didn’t know. He opened Discord and sent a message to Tommy. 

TheEret Today at 8:52 pm

You alright? 

He instantly got a Discord notification back, but it wasn’t from Tommy. 

Tubbo_ Today at 8:52 pm

can we private VC?

TheEret Today at 8:53 pm

sure

The second he sent the message, he got a call from Tubbo. “Hey, Eret.” Tubbo said. “I… I don’t think Tommy’s feeling too well. I’m really not sure what happened.”

“Oh god. Is he okay?” Eret asked, concern creeping into his voice. 

“I- hold on, I’ll dm him and see if he wants to talk.” 

“Alright.”

A few seconds passed. “Oh. Oh no.” Tubbo said.

“Wait, did something happen? What’d he say?” 

“He’s very… mad at you. I- Oh jeez, that’s a lot of messages- I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Do you think it’s because of the SMP? I- you know it was just a bit, right?” Eret asked. Surely, Tommy can’t be mad at him because of a video game right?

“Yeah, yeah, but he’s… he sounds pissed, man. I don’t know wha- Oh. Shit, hold on, he wants to be added in the call. You okay with that?”

Honestly, Eret wasn’t sure. “Uh- yes?”

“Eret.” Tommy’s voice rang through the call. His voice was quiet and stable, unlike his usual self. “What the fuck.”

“I- I’m sorry? I don’t know what I did wrong. Was it the SMP? You know that was a-”

“You could’ve been on the right side of history, Eret. You could’ve-” 

“Tommy, calm-”

“Instead, you chose to loot us and leave us for dead. You chose power. You chose to be with Dream.”

Wait, were they supposed to be in character? Eret just ended his stream, so was Tubbo streaming? Or was it something else?

He immediately switched into character, hoping it was the right move. “Well, it wasn’t hard for me to choose. You were fighting for something futile, something you didn’t guarantee. I chose Dream because you were fighting a losing battle, and I didn’t want to get the short end of the stick.”

Whilst he was talking, Eret sent Tubbo a Discord message.

TheEret Today at 9:12 pm Are you and tommy streaming?

Tubbo_ Today at 9:12 pm no?

TheEret Today at 9:12 pm so i’m not supposed to be in character?

Tubbo_ Today at 9:12 pm uhh yeah

Before Eret could wrap his head around the situation, another person joined the call. It was Wilbur. “Dream said you have 48 hours, Tommy wh- wait, why is Eret here?”

Before Eret could respond, he was kicked from the call. He stared at his monitor in stunned silence, not entirely sure of what had just happened. Tommy had seemed so mad at him for his “betrayal,” even though none of them were supposed to be in character. Why was he so upset? And why did Wilbur react to Eret being there in the way that he did? Had he said something wrong? Was there some sort of planned stream that Eret wasn’t told about?

Eret turned off his computer with a sigh. His mind was racing with possibilities of what had just happened and why, but he wouldn’t be able to act on his thoughts until tomorrow. All he could do now was sleep.

~~~ On the other side of the country, a man sat in front of his computer. A sadistic grin sat upon his face as his green eyes pierced through the dim light. “I warned you not to tell them Tommy. Now, it's time to face the consequences of your actions.”

~~~

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[stiles-halee]

Kinkmas Day 5: Phone Sex

Stiles was going to throw up. Or pass out. Or maybe throw up and then pass out. Or maybe pass out as he was throwing up.

It wasn't an instant regret, he didn't know what he had just done. It took a few minutes and Stiles' impatience, for him to come to the conclusion as to what he had just done.

Usually the guy he had been texting, Brett, texted him right back, especially after the kind of text Stiles had just sent him. The naked kind of text.

But he hadn't answered for about ten minutes, strange for him. Stiles knew he didn't have work, it came up in casual conversation (which they didn't have very often) that Brett's only day off was Tuesday's.

Brett and Stiles had been hooking up for about a month now, completely casual and just for fun. They had met before at a couple lacrosse games, and rekindled over some stupid gay hookup app. Stiles swore he was going to delete it the day after he created it, but awoke to a message in the app.

The rest was sort of history, sweaty, hot, history.

They always hooked up on Tuesdays, and oftentimes liked to send the hint of wanting to hook up with a provocative picture. But Brett hadn't responded.

Stiles huffed out a breath, taking a seat on the couch and pulling out his phone from his pocket. He unlocked it and immediately went to his text messages, checking the most recent one he sent, the one to Brett, only to find it wasn't there.

At the top of the most recent messages was Derek's name. That's weird, he must have missed a text from him. Squinting in confusion, Stiles opened up the chat, only to go pale. Oh. My. God.

There on his phone was a picture of Stiles. A naked picture of Stiles. A naked picture of Stiles that he had sent to Derek, not to Brett. Holy mother of God.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Stiles chanted, leaning forward and trying not to throw up.

"Oh my God." He threw his phone beside him on the couch, burying his head in his hands. He and Derek hadn't talked in weeks. Sure, the brooding wolf had very slightly opened up to the rest of the pack, but not necessarily to Stiles. They nodded to each other at weekly pack meetings (Scott's suggestion to try and keep them all close for now, as was the summer before they all started college, everyone was prepared to go their separate ways, to get out of this town), but never talked.

Stiles' face burned red with embarrassment, he would never be able to face the man again, not as long as he lived. He shook his head in his hands. At least he never really had to see him again. I mean, in less than a month, he would be at Stanford. Sure he was still in California, but he was hours away from Beacon Hills, hours away from Derek.

He was still deep in thought, feeling sick to his stomach when his phone buzzed on the opposite side of the couch. Oh dear God. Had Derek responded? He couldn't look.

He stared at his hands, worrying his lip between his teeth. He couldn't look. He had to look.

He lunged at his phone, grabbing it quickly. How Derek chose to respond didn't really matter, he was never going to see the man again, not after something like that. Consider his summer over. The last three pack meetings were cancelled, as far as Stiles was concerned.

With trembling fingers, Stiles unlocked his phone, staring at the home screen. He had a message from Derek, big surprise. He wondered for a moment how Derek would respond. Maybe he would type angrily in all caps, or send a puking emoji, maybe he would threaten to send it to someone.

Ears burning like fire, Stiles opened up the message and slightly relaxed.

I don't think you meant to send that to me.

What a mundane response. Normal, appropriate, simple. Stiles had never been more thankful for the man of few words. That could have been so much worse.

Stiles shook his head, taking in a deep breath. It was fine, it would be fine. A simple mistake, really. He would profusely apologize, move to Stanford, and never see Derek again. Life would go on. It was fine.

His phone buzzed again, breaking him from his thoughts. On instinct, he looked down again at his phone and then froze.

But I like what I see.

Oh my God. Stiles blinked several times, rereading the latest text several times. He double-no, triple, checked that it was from Derek.

But I like what I see.

Now it was Stiles turn to stare at the unexpected text message he had just received, confused and embarrassed still. How was he supposed to respond to that? I mean, he shouldn't ignore that right? It certainly wasn't the response he expected but it also didn't bother him.

Blood pooled at his groin at the thought of Derek seeing that picture, at Derek liking it.

Was this seriously his life, was this seriously happening right now?

Stiles bit his lip again, typing and erasing each message he tried to prepare. He had no words for that, no words could describe how he was feeling, because he didn't even know how he was feeling. Even so, he felt as though he had to say something. Besides, they both had their read receipts on, Derek would know Stiles had read his messages.

Sorry.

Before Stiles could psych himself out, he sent it. One word, an apology for the accidental text, so Derek would know it indeed was not meant for him. Maybe they would be able to forget about it, move on, maybe Stiles wouldn't have to hide at Stanford for the rest of his life, but for now, that was still the plan.  

Don't be.

Fuck, what did that mean? Derek had to be joking, he had to be. There was no way that Derek actually liked that photo, no way. Derek, the guy who shoved him around and shot him glares. Sure Peter joked about the sexual tension in the room but that wasn't sexual tension that was just. . . Derek's hatred for Stiles. Just regular ole tension

Stiles huffed out a sigh, heading to his room. He put the phone on the charger, determined to sleep and forget about this night. Maybe it was all just a dream. Wishful thinking.

It was also wishful thinking that he would be able to fall asleep. He tossed and turned for hours, wrapped up in his navy blue sheets. He got a cup of tea at some point, opened up the window for a nice cool breeze, read a couple chapters of a book, even wacked one out, trying his hardest not to think of Derek, but nothing worked.

Eventually, around five in the morning, pure exhaustion took over and he got about two hours of off and on sleep.

In the morning, Stiles felt utterly wrecked. He wiped at his eyes and rolled over to grab his phone, unfortunately it was usually the first thing he did in the morning. He was used to being called in the middle of the night, something crazy was always happening in Beacon Hills, so checking for missed calls and texts first thing sort of became a routine.

He didn't have seventeen missed calls from Scott this time, only two notifications. An email from the University (most likely telling them once more just how excited they were to have him), and a text from Derek, at 6:32 AM.

What the hell was he doing up that early, and why did he text Stiles- oh. Oh yeah. Heat rushed to Stiles' face again, cheeks burning in embarrassment. He had totally sent a nude to Derek. But. . . Derek had liked it. Or at least claimed to, prank or not.

Maybe Isaac had gotten a hold of his phone, had seen it and pretended to be Derek. Ugh. That meant Isaac had seen his junk.

Clearing his throat, Stiles opened up the text.

Good morning.

A simple text, a weird one from Derek, but none the less- oh dear mother of God.

Stiles sat up in bed so fast his head spun. He shook his head, trying to rid the dizziness and stared down at his phone, mouth agape.

Right below the good morning text was a picture of Derek. A not suitable for work picture of Derek. A very naked picture of Derek. A very naked picture of Derek with his hand around his hard cock.

Oh my God.

Stiles didn't know what to say, what to do. It was very clearly Derek in the photo. I mean sure, Stiles had never seen the man's cock, which was huge by the way, but he'd seen the man shirtless plenty of times, that was Derek. Derek with his rock hard abs, slightly hairy chest, deep v-line and hung, hard, cock.

Derek fucking Hale had just sent Stiles a nude.

Stiles smirked, in awe. This was the best thing that had happened to him since. . . ever. He was going to frame that photo. Was going to save it as his background on his phone and laptop. The only thing better than a picture of Derek would be seeing Derek-.

Quickly, Stiles began typing, because if that was a possibility, he wasn't going to let that slip through his fingers.

Well good morning to you too.

It was sly, teasing, perfect for the situation, if you asked Stiles.

Derek's didn't respond, hadn't seen the message. Stiles quickly typed something else up, impatient and hoping maybe more than one message would grab the man's attention if he happened to just miss the first one.

Looks like you are happy to see me.

Stiles smirked again. If Derek was dead set on stunning Stiles, or perhaps this really was a prank, a really, really, too-far prank, then Stiles would play along. Two could play at this game.

Stiles watched his phone for a few minutes, waiting for that little delivered saying under his message to say read, but it didn't change. Huffing, Stiles got up, making himself breakfast quickly and making sure his volume was up all the way on his phone.

He was shoving waffles down his throat when he got a text, but it was just Scott, asking if he was busy today. Stiles said he was.

He cleaned the dishes thoroughly and decided to take a shower.

He definitely did not jerk off to Derek. Nope. He didn't.

Hoping out of the shower, his heart rate was still up when he checked his phone, wiping away the fog that had clung to the screen, and it went up further when he saw a text from Derek.

Woke up thinking about you.

Stiles raised his eyebrows. That was. . .  well hot for one, but also kinda sweet? Totally not like Derek.

Stiles looked down at his half-hard cock, interested already and gave it a slow stroke, hissing as he was still recovering from his last orgasm. Even so, he continued on, becoming fully hard in no time, just staring at that picture Derek had sent him.

Then Stiles did something so risky. Probably very stupid.

He took a picture of his hard dick and sent it to Derek.

So did I.

Derek was typing back immediately and Stiles went to his room, still naked, waiting for his response, stroking his dick lazily.

What were you thinking about, exactly?

Stiles typed back one handed. Risky. Stupid. But he kept going.

Thinking about that picture you sent me.

Stiles bit his lip again.

Did you like it?

Stiles almost laughed. Oh yes, he liked it.

Yes.

Derek seemed to think for a second, not texting back immediately. Honestly, Stiles was impressed that he texted as fast as he did, Derek wasn't exactly one with technology.

You should see it in person.

Stiles's heart hammered in his chest. He wondered what the "it" exactly referred to. He was so willing to find out.

Picture's don't do it justice?

Stiles teased.

I guess you'll have to come and find out.

Stiles sat up in bed quickly, running to his closet to throw on clothes. He threw on a loose shirt and some chinos, slipping on some shoes and brushing his teeth and quickly and thoroughly as he could. He ran a hand through his unkempt hair, glad it was longer and hoping Derek would run his hands through it, pull it. As he was running out the door, starting his Jeep, he sent one final text.

Be there in ten.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27847538/chapters/68179390

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

summertime sadness .2.

holiday

Sequel to kiss me in the d-a-r-k

Part 1 (masterlist under construction)

Warnings: dub con sex (intercourse, oral)

This is dark!(dad)Steve and dark(professor!)Bucky explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: You enjoy your last days of escape.

Note: Alrighty, we’re building up to the real crux of this installment and I am pumped to begin the next chapters because shit gon get wildin’. I hope you all enjoyed the first part and here’s a fluffy, smutty second chapter. Bon appetit. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think in a reblog, reply, or like.

💋💋💋

The jet lag lulled you into a heavy sleep. Even so, you woke up early as Steve snored loudly beside you. You suspected, had it not been for your exhaustion, your night would have been restless because as soon as you opened your eyes, you were thinking of the day before.

Your phone vibrated as if sensing your thoughts and you grabbed it as you climbed off the bed. It was a text from Kylie. ‘Missing out girl’. You read and crept into the living room. ‘Don’t rub it in’, you replied after several tries. Your stomach was fluttering. 

You were miles away and yet you felt just sending that message would give you away. As if she would sense your secret hidden between the letters. Your phone blipped as she returned a tongue out emoji and you countered with a thumbs up and set the phone aside with a sigh.

“Hungry?” Steve’s voice frightened you and you nearly jumped as you turned to him. “We’ll order some room service.”

He rubbed his eye with his knuckles as he took the menu from the coffee table and sat. “Eggs? Crepes?”

You sat beside him and looked over his shoulder. “Fruit and yogurt’s fine.”

“Boring,” He sounded like Kylie. “This is a vacation.”

“I’m not very hungry,” You argued as you crossed your arms and slouched against the couch. “But thanks.”

“Okay,” He shrugged as he reached for the phone on the table that stood by the arm of the couch. He dialed the extension and the other end picked up almost immediately as you closed your eyes. “Hi, I’ll get the Executive Breakfast and some yogurt and fruit to Suite 3a. Yes. And two mimosas…” You opened one eye and he peeked over at you with a grin. “Coffee too. Thanks.”

He hung up and sat back. He rubbed his shoulder against yours and leaned in. “

What’s going on, miss grumpy pants?”

“Please,” You pushed yourself to your feet. “Don’t talk to me like a child.”

“I’m not,” He argued. “Really? What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” You lied.

“We’re here to have fun so please… just tell me.”

“I just feel…” You looked around. “I dunno. I guess I’m just not used to all this.”

“So enjoy it,” He stood with a groan. “A nice day by the pool, hmm?”

You tried not to smile as he neared and pulled you to him. “I… my apartment could fit in here and more and my mom’s house is barely--”

“Do you ever think of yourself?” He interrupted.

“I think you know I do,” You let him wrap his arms around you. “I’ve grown too comfortable with being selfish.”

“Having fun isn’t selfish,” He insisted. “Don’t think of it like that.”

“Don’t you ever think… about what other people think?” You ran your hands along his shoulders. “When they see us together? I mean, they might not know us but--”

“They probably think I’m a lucky man,” He leaned in and kissed your forehead. “I don’t care what they think. Do you?”

“I don’t know, but I notice the looks.” You shrugged.

“Jealousy. Bitterness.” He said. “Let me tell you, if I could be your age again, I wouldn’t bother with caring about other people. It’s not worth it. Trust me.��

You smiled reluctantly. “I suppose…”

“Hey,” He caught your chin before you could look away. “You’re not stuck with me. If you’re not comfortable, if this doesn’t feel right, we can end it when you want. No hard feelings.”

You inhaled and gazed up at him. “No, I don’t want to end it, I just… am still trying to understand it. To understand myself.”

“You’re young, you’ve got time to figure yourself out,” He stroked your cheek with his thumb. “And this is just a step on that road.”

💋

The day was serene. After breakfast, you changed into your new swimsuit and settled into the pool with a book. Steve didn’t bother you much. You caught him watching you but he didn’t do much. When you climbed out and claimed one of the loungers, he followed you. 

You sat back and closed your book. You set it aside and he took it. He read the synopsis on the back cover and gave a ‘hmm’. A dry history of the American Railroad; two bucks out of the discount bin but surprisingly intriguing. He put it back where you left it and stretched across the other lounger.

“You excited?” He asked.

“About?” You adjusted your sunglasses as you bent your legs.

“Your new job.” He was unabashed as his eyes explored your figure.

“Oh, yeah, nervous.” You answered as you fidgeted. “I’m trying not to think too much about it.”

“Why?” He reached over and touched your hand. “It’ll be a foot in the door and you’re a great writer.”

“Am I? How would you know?”

“Bucky sent me a copy of your article. The one that got you the placement.” He explained and you looked at him, stunned.

“You read my article?” You gaped.

“Enjoyed it,” He smiled. “You’re gonna go far, you know that? You’ll be visiting Hawaii every year. Living the life.”

You laughed. “Okay, sure.” You pulled your hand away and wiped the sweat from your forehead.

“I mean it,” He said. “Any plans after your degree?”

“I don’t know. Maybe another or… We’ll see how this goes first.”

“Gee, I’m sorry,” He shook his head. “This was meant to be a nice little getaway and I just ruined it, didn’t I?”

“No, it’s fine,” You assured him. “Really. I’m just… anxious.”

“I can help your nerves,” He purred and you rolled your eyes at him. 

“Mmhmm,” You hung your arms over those of the chair and closed your eyes. “Nothing a little sun and dissociation won’t help.”

You ignored his shadow on the other side of your eyelids and the subtle shift of his lounger as he moved. You squeaked as you felt his fingers brush from ankle to knee. He pushed your legs apart as you opened your eyes. You tried to resist him but he was strong, insistent.

“Steve,” You whispered.

“Shh, it’s okay,” He bent over the end of the lounger and pulled you closer. You slid across it and tried to catch yourself on your arms. “No one can see us.”

“I don’t--” You gulped as he pulled aside the crotch of your bathing suit. “Steve, please, let’s go--”

His tongue was cool and your legs locked up around his head as he buried it between them. You hissed as he suckled at your clit and unable to push him away, you stretched your fingers across his head and urged him on. He was only too eager to bend to your will.

“St-e-ve,” You shuddered. “Pl-ease.”

He smiled against you as he drank you up. You whined and squeezed his head between your thighs as you contorted in pleasure. How simply he could wrap you around his finger. You arched into him as he grabbed your legs and pushed them over his shoulders. The lounger felt just as weak as you were.

You panted as he pushed you over the edge. Your orgasm was a song; a series of moans smothered beneath your palm. He hummed and lapped up your ecstasy. He was reluctant to pull away. Your legs trembled and slip from his shoulders as he sat up. He licked his glistening lips and fixed your swimsuit.

“Well,” He grabbed the lounger and pushed himself to his feet. “I think I need to cool down.” His shorts were tented with his arousal as he turned his back to you and stretched his arm above his head. He neared the pool and lowered himself into the water with a sigh. “How about you, sweetie?”

“Uh… yeah,” You breathed. “Sure.”

You were slow to rise and slightly dizzy as you got to your feet. You swept off your sunglasses and left them on the lounger. Your cum cooled against your swimsuit. You sat on the edge and carefully slid into the water.

Steve was quick to draw you to him and pin you against the wall. His broad chest pressed against yours as he kissed you. The water swayed gently around you. He held you to him and turned so that he was pressed to the tiled wall.

“You know,” He cupped your cheek with a damp hand. “I wanted to fuck you in the pool last summer but… well… if I’m being honest, I would’ve fucked you in every single room.”

You giggled and kissed him again. “You’re so dirty.” You teased as you pulled away.

“Oh, I never said I wasn’t,” He nuzzled your cheek as his hand glided along the curve of your side. “You should come down again. I can take you for a ride on the motorcycle… finally finished that old beast.”

“I don’t think--”

“Kylie will be visiting for Thanksgiving this year,” He offered. “You can tag along with her if you’re free.”

“I don’t know, my mom--”

“Of course,” He dragged his nose along your chin and pecked along your throat. “We’ll figure something out.”

His hand slipped down and he lifted your leg. He hooked it around his hip and pushed down his shorts beneath the water. You looked down and your eyes rounded. He took your hand and wrapped it around his dick. You grasped him and raised your head slowly. You began to stroke him and he shivered.

“You can take me for a ride now,” You grinned.

“Oh yeah,” He grabbed your ass and lifted you easily.

You clung to him with one arm as you angled him beneath the water. You shoved your swimsuit aside with two fingers and quickly pushed him inside. You bit your lip as you slid down his length and he let out a long breath. You rocked against him and moaned in his ear.

“Mmm,” He purred. “Sweetie, you’re so sexy.”

“Yeah?” You preened as you rode him slowly. “You like that?”

“I love it,” He assured you as he squeezed your ass. “I just… couldn’t help myself. Watching you all day…” His hot breath crept down your neck as he spoke. “Reading over there with no clue how hard you were making me… the way your lips move just slightly…”

You moaned again and he bent to nibble along your throat. He led you up and down as his impatience grew. His teeth pinched your skin, sure to leave a mark, but you didn’t care. The water splashed around you as you crushed him against the wall of the pool. You tossed your head back and sped up.

You were frantic for release. His name rolled off your tongue as you chased your climax. Your core pulsed hotly and all at once the coil snapped. You came with shrill mewl but didn’t slow. You grabbed Steve’s head and smushed your lips against his. You parted as you bounced against him and your lips quivered.

“I want you to cum in me,” The words sent a thrill through you. “Please.”

“You sure?” He rasped and you nodded with a hum.

He smirked and turned you suddenly. He pushed you against the tile and pounded into you harder than before. You cried out with each thrust and he growled as he gripped the edge of the pool. He grunted as his hips jerked wildly. A warm gush filled you, searing as the cool water flowed around your bodies. 

He shivered as he stilled and sank into you entirely. He stepped out of his shorts that had slumped to his ankles. He moved away from the wall, still inside you and walked with you in his arms to the steps of the pool. He climbed them slowly and the water dripped from your intertwined bodies. He carried you through the glass doors.

“What are you doing?” You asked as the haze cleared.

“I’m gonna do exactly what I always wanted,” He snarled and fell onto the couch with you under him. “I’m going to fuck you on every piece of furniture in this place.” He rocked his hips and spasmed as your walls clung to his oversensitive cock. “And then again. And again.” He spoke with each tilt of his hips. “And again.”

💋

Three days and then you were headed back to the city. The weekend had gone much like the beginning. By the end, you’d forgotten the worries that awaited you back home; the underlying duplicity of your tryst. The plane ride was long enough for it all to come hurtling back but you staved it off for your last twelve hours of bliss. With your hand in Steve’s, you let him hold the load for you.

And when you landed in New York and you’d retrieved his rover from the lot, you were ready to sleep off your doubts. He stopped outside your apartment. You could tell he was sad to see it. You lingered in the car as he leaned over to kiss you.

“So…” He said as he pulled back, his arm across your seat. “I’ll see you...later.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how much time I’ll have off,” You lamented. “But I’ll call you.”

“Facetime?” He asked coyly.

“Hmm,” You chewed your lip. “You sure you can figure it out?”

“Hey,” He retorted at the jibe. “I think you know age barely hinders me.”

“We can try,” You said. “I’ve never… it might be awkward.”

“Never,” He assured you. “But I’ll be coming down in September to help Kylie move back into dorms.”

“Kylie…” You echoed. “So, is she still trashin’ your place?”

“As far as I know,” He grumbled. “But I’ll deal with that when I get there. Maybe I’ll just cancel her little girls’ trip seeing as she’s already had her fair share of fun.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin with her,” You shook your head. “Well…”

“I can stay another night.” He offered.

“No, no, you should get going. I got a lot of stuff to do for this new job and some commissions to finish.” You said glumly. “Thanks. For everything. I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too,” He kissed you again. “I’ll tell Bucky to take it easy on you.”

“He’s not so bad. I don’t think I’m in his section next year but we’ll see,” You chimed. “Drive safe.”

“I will, sweetie. I--” He stopped himself and glanced out the windshield. “You let me know how the job goes, okay?”

“Will do,” You said as you grabbed your purse. “See ya.”

“Yeah, see ya,” He nodded stiffly. “Goodbye.”

You kissed him one last time before you got and grabbed your bag from the trunk. You stepped up on the curve and he gave a small wave as he pulled away. You watched him go and turned to your building. The ivy creeping along the aged brick dragged you back from the sunny serenity of Hawaii.

Time to get back to real life.

[linssikeittomies]

The Place Between Here And There - Chapter 10: ...And Happiness In Private Life(cont'd)

Masterpost AO3 Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7  Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 9(cont'd)

I've finally updated the status of the fic to ABANDONED, I was going to do that way earlier but I didn't want to admit defeat, and then I just kind of forgot... Time really starts flying by as you get older, it totally doesn't feel like 2 years passed by^^' I'm still writing scenes for later on in the fic, and I've had the general outline of the story planned for a long time, but I haven't been able to write complete chapters for any of my projects for over a year now, it's very annoying. Anyway, this is the rest of chapter 9, not my best work but at least I like the part with Toris. He's noticed Ivan's small efforts of being nicer and wants to encourage them. Thanks for everyone who read this story and sorry for not being able to bring it to conclusion for all of you who were invested!

-

Ivan sent Fredya home until Wednesday – claiming it was so he could concentrate on work, but he was sure Fredya could tell he was just fretting about the upcoming meeting. Ivan was terrified Katyushka would get carried away, and that was closer to certainty rather than possibility, and then Fredya would walk out of his life. He had known from the start that the time would come sooner or later, but he had much hoped it would fall on the later end of the spectrum. This was a wholly different case from that of his first girlfriend - the one he had been with all of three days before Katyusha started talking about weddings. She had left him the next day, not surprisingly, and he hadn’t really cared one way or the other - she had been far too practical to occupy his thoughts when she wasn’t in sight. But if Fredya left as suddenly, and he was certainly impulsive enough to do so on the spot, then... Obviously it still wouldn’t be the end of the world,of course it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen, losing a home for example would be far worse than losing a companion, it really wasn’t that big of an issue when you thought about it – there was no reason to lose what little will to live Ivan had left over something that insignificant. No reason.

So Ivan would not worry about it – he slammed the door on the thought, and worked hard to put all his concentration on his notes. He had not yet studied Rogers enough, his files on the computer had sat abandoned for too long. Opening his folder, going over the routes again, verifying time codes, Ivan fell to a comfortable, familiar routine, cup of tea beside him growing cold. Rogers didn’t have much of a routine, which made observing him a challenge and data collecting a thrill. At least this was an activity that Ivan could still lose himself in despite whatever non-turmoil was boiling in his gut. Comparing coordinates, discovering overlaps, identifying patterns, data was something Ivan was good at. Data had no emotions, so it was easy to handle. Data didn’t mind his extracurriculars, didn’t judge him for his jealousy, didn’t snoop into his past. Though it also didn’t text him at 3 am to tell him about a silly dream it had. Even less it cared about whether he was coming home for the night or not. It not wanting to watch brainless, cliched superhero should have been a positive, but in the dark, the brain gets sentimental. Ivan suddenly wished he had a file on Fredya. Ivan certainly had enough data on him, though so far it was all in his brain and a few lines in his notebooks. One photo on his phone, a selfie Fredya had sent some weeks ago. It was taken with one of those filter things, Ivan wasn’t familiar with the apps so he couldn’t tell if it was instagram or snappychat or whatever others there were. Fredya had cartoon glasses on his nose, on top of his real-life glasses. He was doing a victory sign, and there was a badly drawn pink heart floating in the lower left corner, not anchored into anything. The composition of the photo was bad. A large dead space occupied the top left, a pile of dirty clothes was poking into the frame from the bottom right. The lighting was scarcely better, the only diffuser was the dust inside the light fixture. Fredya’s artistic ability was nil, though he did make for an attractive subject, harsh shadows and all. It would be nice to have proper photo of him, before he got out of reach. With a reference to guide him, it might be possible. Ivan quickly scanned his bedroom for inspiration.

Perhaps it was too much effort for 2 a.m., but Ivan rather liked the end result. The handful of stars drawn on the wall to form a suggestion of a halo – however wrong it looked on Ivan – and hands posed to form a heart on the chest, and some minor lighting adjustments on photoshop, he thought it near perfectly captured how Ivan saw Fredya. Bright, innocent, center of the universe, unashamed of his affections. Fredya wouldn’t put as much effort in to it, even if he did take his own version of the photo as Ivan had requested, but that was also good. It wasn’t in Fredya’s nature to try too hard at something he didn’t feel like understanding - such as art other than of the moving pictures variety. Together, the photos formed a piece – the fantasy and the reality. It was a commentary on expectations. Fredya may or may not look at the photo when he inevitably got up to go the bathroom sometime soon, but he wouldn’t take his own until afternoon if ever, so Ivan finally went to bed. He only had a few hours before his shift started.

-_-_-_-_-

Fredya had sent an emoji Ivan didn’t understand the meaning as response to the photo, followed by hearts and something that seemed to be an abbreviation, Ivan didn’t research the meaning. It likely wasn’t important. Ivan got coffees for everyone again, and Amanda gave him a incredulous look. It was getting suspicious, Ivan acting nice. He should dial down on the social interactions for the next few days. It would be good practice for when Fredya left him, anyway. “Oh, thank you for going through the trouble”, Toris commented smiling. Ivan studied the smile, trying to map out proportions and gauge timings, but again he failed to replicate the gesture. It kept coming out as sarcastic. He would prefer if both would just shut up and their coffees without scrutinizing his intentions. Let a man act civil to fellow humans beings in peace. “If everyone is done sitting around, we need someone to go interview Fowler’s parishioners.” Predictably, Amanda volunteered for the task. That left Ivan and Toris at the office, reading through statements, comparing alibis and viewing security footage, the same draining and pointless sinkhole of never-ending choppy black-and-white footage that glared a print of the screen in your soul, so that in the end when you lost everything else to dementia and cataracts, you would still see that stinging bright rectangle staring you in the eye, smirking gleefully, taking pleasure in removing everything one used to take joy in, and replacing itself in place of loved ones. That metaphor ran a little wild at the end, there. In all fairness, it could be intriguing work when results could reasonably be expected, but everyone and their mother knew the only thing learned from these particular ones would be just how much time were wasting on them. Even Toris, being his professional self, couldn’t resist glancing at the clock every few minutes. He would of course try to make it inconspicuous, just letting his eyes dart to his wrist and back again, but it was noticeable enough when one was more concentrated on the coworker than the work. It came to Ivan’s mind that perhaps this was another aspect of Toris he should try to simulate, rather than keep studying, his work ethic was excellent. Surely that was something most people would approve of. And Fredya did often complain Ivan was rather lackadaisical about his work, he would appreciate the effort. “How do stay so focused?” he asked sincerely. It was admirable, really, how Toris could throw himself at something so tedious. Toris blinked at him in confusion, probably surprised to see his colleague who was supposed to working beside him blatantly ignoring said work. “I’ve practiced it for years, there’s really no easy trick for it.” “Ah. Shame.” “I find that meditating regularly helps. And a good diet.” Well, that was already two things Ivan would not be trying out. “I could send you some articles  if you’d like.” “You should spend your free time on yourself. You work too much.” Ivan went idly back to his files, not really feeling like working, but deciding to at least give it a shot, but feeling Toris’ curious eyes still fixed on him was too much of a distraction. After several seconds of silence he couldn’t take it anymore. “Yes?” “Thank you. That was considerate of you.” Ivan didn’t know how to answer that. It had been such a banal thing to say. Not warranting any response, really. Just a stock phrase, however true of some people and situations - such as this particular specimen. Toris must have heard the exact same statement hundreds of times in his life, knowing that he had an actual social circle who cared for him. Ivan was outside that circle, and people rarely care for the things outsiders say in matters like these - surely Toris should feel nothing particular about anything Ivan said. There was no need for him to smile like that, it was just embarrassing for a grown man to get so giddy about faint praise. Ivan scoffed and went back to his work.

-_-_-_-_-

U maek a habot of drawning on walls huh Outside of his brief childhood, Ivan had only ever drawn on walls three times - once in a drunk, misguided bout of creative frenzy, once to write his number on an intriguing man’s wall to annoy him, and once in an attempt to save a relic of happier times for the future. Mostly when you are involved, it seems. Perhaps you are my muse for wall-related artistry It had been a while since Ivan had drawn a portrait, but now might be the time to dust off that skill set. Ivan considered himself more of a photographer, but there was also something appealing about creating from scratch. Although... he would need to keep the portrait hidden, it would raise questions and pity later on. Ivan wished he was better at abstraction, that way it wouldn’t look like Fredya to anyone else, but his mind seemed to be too observational for it. It could only make sense of things that connected together in realistic ways, it couldn’t create anything out of feelings alone. Perhaps he simply didn’t have enough of them for that kind of art. The dinner with Fredya and his sisters was a few hours away, but Ivan was already nervously ironing his clothes. He once again pleaded Katyusha to control her romantic impulses, and of course she promised, but Ivan knew that meant little. She had very bad self-control. Tasha’s picking me up, we’ll meet you there Natasha was coming? Nataliya was coming?! Fuck - what was she - this was bad news - why hadn’t she said - oh god, forget about Katyusha ruining everything if Nataliya Grigorova was coming! She never mentioned wanting to come along That sneaky little girl, she told me you said it was okay, haha He would not survive this night sober. He wanted to make a good impression. He did not want to be drunk when the only three people who mattered to him were all in the same room. He wanted to be fully conscious, to enjoy an outing with his family while being fully genuine, not just sedated into calmness. But lord knew he would not survive the night sober.

-_-_-_-_-

Remembering the fit Fredya had thrown the last time Ivan had driven not-strictly-drunk-but-also-not-sober, he was glad that they had arranged beforehand for Fredya to pick him up. Because he was observant in the most inconvenient ways, Ivan had been sure Fredya would notice something was off, maybe a smell or the slow movements to counteract the unsteady hand-to-eye-coordination, but fortunately he was too stoked about meeting Ivan’s sisters again, officially, to notice Ivan’s oddly calm demeanor. He babbled excitedly the whole way there, and was halfway across the street before Ivan had even fully exited the car. “Come on you snail! They’re gonna think we ditched them!” “It’s only a few minutes away, you can afford to slow down”, Ivan chuckled. Fredya was so adorably excited, he resembled a puppy on a walk. “Being overeager is as bad as being late.” “Beg to disagree! Pick up the pace slowpoke!” Fredya sped up ahead, Ivan kept his leisurely pace. He missed the re-introductions, but it seemed like he hadn’t been needed for those at all - Fredya and Katyushka already looked like old friends, while Tasha regarded him with a haughty look, but nary a nasty word. She raised an eyebrow at Ivan, as if saying really, you chose this clown over me?, and he simply smiled pleasantly at her. As they waited for their food to arrive, Fredya and Katyushka were unsurprisingly the only ones to hold up conversation. They had found a common ground in Star Trek - in that Katyusha had heard a lot about it, but had never watched an episode and was interested, and Fredya was an expert in all the series and films and liked talking about them. They went through the pacifistic ideas on the original series and how it sometimes contradicted itself on it, analyzing the casting choices for the remakes, some more things that Ivan had no interest in.  When their plates were brought, the were in the midst of trying to speak klingon - the attempts of both of them were saddeningly hilarious. Or perhaps they were both surprisingly accurate. Ivan had no way of knowing, the franchise being something he had never taken an interest in. Of course he liked space, but he was more fact-oriented than a fan of fanciful fiction. “You seem so young, it’s almost like you’re still in college”, Katyusha giggled, and Ivan could not agree more. The youthful energy Fredya exuded was refreshing, at least most of the time. “Never went to college, I went straight to work from high school”, Fredya explained, crumbs flying. That was the one habit that Ivan never found charming in Fredya, it was just plain disgusting. Tasha made a small chortle of contempt that passed Fredya by. “Our brother is a very intelligent man”, Tasha commented sharply, and Ivan knew exactly what she was going for – he had come to the same conclusion, himself. And truthfully, neither of them had been wrong - Fredya really was stupid. “Oh, tell me about it”, the insulted man chuckled, not understanding what was being implied. Ivan would have liked being able to defend Fredya, but the thing was that Fredya was not intelligent – intellectually or socially, and attempting to claim otherwise would have been pointless. He might have been considered smart in some useless areas, such as entertainment trivia, but faint praise is just as damning as admitting faults. Trivia! There was the opening Fredya needed to impress Tasha! “He has a master’s degree in movie trivia and celebrity gossip, if nothing else. Just give an actor’s name and he will tell you every movie they have ever been in.” “And not just that! I can also tell which year each movie came out!” Fredya exclaimed proudly. Ivan started with an easy one - Tom Cruise. Tasha did look reluctantly impressed as the titles and dates kept on coming, but refused to admit defeat. She tried her favorite actor, someone much more obscure. “Ken Foree?” “Hmm… The midnight man, 2017… Rift, dark side of the moon 2016, Cut slash pri- no wait, I think he was in Divine tragedies, 2015, Cut slash print 2012 –“ However, since

Tasha’s obsession with her brother refused to give way to respect for her perceived enemy, she realized that to claim victory she could simply ask about any non-American film star. “Anastasia Zavorotnyuk.” “Anastasia who?” Of course he pronounced the name the American way, but Ivan was still mildly impressed he could tell Анастасия and Anastasia were the same name. “Zavorotnyuk.” Tasha allowed herself a malevolent smirk as Fredya racked his brain for the name in vain. “A true expert wouldn’t limit himself only to Hollywood”, Tasha hmphed in triumphant malice, believing to have proved her superiority over him once and for all, despite not showing an ability to counter his. It seemed the point had only been to prove Fredya was not omniscient. In Ivan’s eyes, it was enough to be merely well-versed. “He does hate subtitles to the point where I thought he might be illiterate”, Ivan joked. “Hey, at least I speak the language of the country I live in!” “Verily, my darling, thou speakest with the most biting of tongues. Shakespeare himself would envy your prowess.” “The guy lived like hundreds of years ago, who gives a shit? Ivan Drago was famous in the 80’s.” “Ivan can sound almost native when he tries”, Katyusha said, trying to diffuse the argument, not knowing the workings of their relationship well enough to tell it was all said in jest. “I haven’t tried in years, I doubt I could anymore”, Ivan thought. He had tried training his accent away in high school, so he would sound less foreign in job interviews. Having a foreign name was bad enough in an application. He had never achieved a smooth, natural accent, he had to concentrate very hard which caused the words to come out very slowly and robotically, and still there was always a hint of foreign phonemes. Combined with his attempts to deepen his voice – an incredibly embarrassing failure on its own – had made him cringe, even back then. Tasha had encouraged him, of course, because in her mind anything and everything her dear brother did was the right decision. Excluding taking romantic interest in someone other than her, of course.

The rest of the evening went by in much the same fashion. Fredya and Katyusha got along swimmingly, Tasha made snide remarks about Fredya, Ivan defended him in mean ways, Fredya played along. It was all very pleasant. Finally the staff started dropping hints that it was time to vacate the table, so they got up and parted ways. Katyusya was enchanted enough to not wait long enough to be out of earshot before starting to gush about her baby brother’s relationship, which made for a perfect opening for eavesdropping. “Don’t you think Vanechka looks so much happier than usual?” Katyusya said, nearly clapping her hands in excitement. “Idiocy might be contagious”, Tashenka grumbled in response. “I never imagined he’d go for that type, but I guess it goes to show opposites really do attract!” Katyushka squeed. “It’s only for the moment. That American moron will start getting on Vanya’s nerves soon”, Tashenka claimed, not sounding too confident herself. Ivan had expected that to happen as well, in the beginning. “I hope he won’t, I think Alfred is good for Vanechka. He’s come out of his shell.” What did she mean by that? As far as Ivan was aware, he had never been shy around his sisters. Or other people, for that matter. “What’re you frowning about?” Fredya asked. “I’m eavesdropping. Katyusha likes you, and Natasha doesn’t despise you.” “Well that’s good news isn’t it?” Fredya smiled, and tried to hear the women. “Man, you got great hearing. I can’t hear them at all.” Yes, it did take some practice to achieve Ivan’s level of spying on other people’s conversations. And by then they had gotten far enough that Ivan couldn’t hear then anymore either, actually. “Your eardrums must be damaged from the all screeching you do.” “You’re walking home, asshole.”

-

Tasha + Katyushka = affectionate nicknames for Nataliya and Yekaterina. Tashenka + Katyusya = one level more intimate. Ivan is being drunk and sentimental so at the end of the evening, the way he feels about his sisters is something like most people do when seeing tiny kittens. Thanks again for reading! Maybe in like 10 years so I'll add a final "chapter" describing the rest of the plot, but I know myself and won't make any promises. I have some more snippets on the masterpost if anyone wants to frustrate themselves with a story that will never be finished.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

Fic Writer Interview

ty @sybilius​ i only have nine works up so this is going to be less satisfying than i intended

Name(s): kay

Fandom(s): Fallout: New Vegas (hereafter fnv); The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly, random little B-westerns that I think should be gay but aren’t on screen. probably Genshin Impact soon 

Where you post: @/sictransitgloriamundi on ao3

Most Popular One Shot (by kudos) Overall/This Year: oh the smut. no new standalone stuff except for this silly little one-shot, which i created the tag and pairings for and was startled to find it broke 20 views recently

Most Popular Multi-Chapter (by kudos)  Overall/This Year: my baby, my child, blow a kiss fire a gun . i think the one that’s been getting the most hits/kudos recently is the collection of short stories i wrote for falloutfebruary christ on a bike that was THIS YEAR, which has almost as many hits, more bookmarks, but not quite as many kudos as kiss/gun.

Favorite story you've written so far: i am very fond of individual chapters in that short story collection, we’re not a gang we’re a club. christine’s is my absolute favorite i think, but cass’ is a very nice standalone and i like the structure of that one best. i am really laser focused on this one crossover i have built. not much creative writing room in my head for things that are not cowboys.

the beginning of kiss/gun is uh. real rough. hard to rec that as a starting point but i am very fond of the museum chapter, even if i think parts of it are a little janky. i do like how (i think) i captured the melancholy inherent to natural history museums.

Fic you were nervous to post: the smut. but it was wildly successful as far as my metrics go so (shrug emoji)

How do you choose your titles?: i keep an eye out for interesting phrases/scraps of lyrics and keep a master list of everything i’ve ever found interesting. i also do this with names.

Do you outline?: i write how i play open world RPGs. i set a waypoint, i have the fullest intention of eventually reaching that waypoint, and then it takes me several hours to get there and there’s a lot of wandering around and doing sidequests.

for example, the museum chapter was not in my original plan at all and i did not plan on having them take a field trip outside of harassing that one doctor who gave them a bogus tip. however, my brain ran with it and now it’s its own mini arc that’s pretty crucial to how things are gonna pop off in new vegas in the next couple chapters

my section titles on kiss/gun are mostly for my own amusement/to roughly outline major beats and i should really go back and pick out some more major beats in some of these chapters/clean it up a little huh. where the fuck did the section headings for the museum chapter go, for example??? why are the liner notes in the middle of the field medicine chapter???

this is the google docs template i start new fics with, kiss/gun got way too unwieldy and each chapter of gang/club lives in its own doc

Complete: 8/9 of the fics up are done. in the event i kick it or decide to stop writing kiss/gun, my sister or i will post what i got so far and how i intended it to end.

In-Progress: just kiss/gun, which will be. whoo boy. way longer than intended.

Coming soon/not yet started:

veronica/christine/six smut i intended to get out for fnv’s tenth anniversary (whoops),

a short bit of smut for genshin impact,

eventually i would like to collect all the tumblr prompts i’ve done (that live at the bottom of the main doc) into their own series/collection/something. several of them are long enough to be posted on their own.

johnny guitar (1954) threesome

f/f the big gundown

fnv!blondie/tuco VERY early in their relationship that is probably going to be its own fic but i don’t have a whole ton more than like. vibes and a vague sense of imagery at this point. well that’s not quite true i know i want certain major beats but idk how to Get There yet

a noir au of the fnv au on hold bc i don’t know how to handle writing about the police

Prompts?: i like asking for them on occasionto keep my hand in in this time of creative distress, but i don’t think anyone’s popped in with random unsolicited ones (thank you). i’m so pleased that the noir prompt list i made last year has generated some cool stuff

Upcoming work you're most excited about: writing is very hard right now. bad time of year + i have started a new job that’s taking most of my mental energy. i think about the cowboys almost every day. wish i could write them.

tagging: @bronanlynch​ @calico-fiction​ idk if u see it and the spirit moves u pretend you were tagged

[bangtan-madi]

All Of Our Lifetimes — Five: Requiem

Pairing — Taehyung x Reader

Tags — boyfriend!Taehyung, husband!Taehyung reincarnation au, lovers to strangers and to lovers again, established relationship, implied soulmate au

Genre — fluff, angst, crime (ish)

Word Count — 2.5k

Summary — Does love ever truly end, or does it simply take another form in a new life? The cycle is like clockwork: your lives end and you’re reborn again. You’ve lived it over and over. Each cycle, one of you loses your memories and is tragically unaware until the other finds and awakens their lover. After all these eons, all these lifetimes, is it possible to find each other again—even when neither of you awakens with your memories?

Part — 5 / 15

Warnings — language

A/N — Taglist is open! Comment, message, or ask and I’ll add you to the roster :) (Also I’m a freakin’ moron and forgot to post on Wednesday night like usual, which was yesterday. So enjoy this late chapter lol!)

Previous — Next

The first person you text is Namjoon. To you, he was the obvious choice. Friendly, open, and the first of the members to accept you into their enclave. It wasn't anything in particular, just saying hi and reminding him of who you are and that you were looking forward to tomorrow.

Not two minutes later, he replies and invites you to join a group chat he'd just created for you and all seven members.

"This way, we can all keep in touch!" he says. "DMs are fine, of course, but if we all wanna get to know each other, group chats can be a lot of fun."

He wasn't wrong. The remainder of Sunday evening is spent texting the members. On the way home, while you cook a quick dinner, and when you're relaxing before bed. They're flooding your messages with all kinds of hilarity. Jungkook and Hoseok are a fan of memes, while Yoongi seems to prefer the straightforward communication that gifs provide. Jimin and Namjoon adore emojis, and Jin sticks to his usual bad dad jokes. Taehyung replies to a question every now and then, but for the most part, he's absent from the conversation.

"You're awfully quiet, Taehyung-ssi," Jimin teases half-way through a conversation on whether or not mint ice cream is edible.

"I'm working, but you guys are blowing up my phone so it's hard to concentrate."

A sigh slips out as you reply, "You can put your phone on vibrate, Taehyung. Really, we won't mind. Or at least I certainly won't."

His response is speedy. "Okay. I'll talk to you all tomorrow."

Namjoon sends you a private message. "Don't let him bother you. He can get like this when he's focused. He doesn't do well with things distracting him."

"Yeah...you're probably right."

"Oh, I definitely am!"

"Hey, thank you again for everything. Except for Kim Taehyung, I really feel at ease with everyone. I feel like we're going to get along great at the set tomorrow."

"My pleasure, [Y/n]. I really wanted to avoid you feeling like more of an outsider than you probably already do. Being in a new country, even if you speak the language, can be scary. I've been to enough of them to know that there's no place like home...but maybe we can make it a bit easier."

A smile spreads across your face at his genuine spirit and pure kindness. "You have, big time! Each of you is really fun to be around. Honestly? I can't wait for 'Run' tomorrow! Can I ask where we're going? I didn't see a production report yet, and Director Hyeon hasn't responded to my email."

"We'll probably knock out a few episodes in one night, and I think we're closing down the Seoul Museum of Art. They're going to close a bit early so we can have it to ourselves. The games we have planned will happen there!"

You turn your eyes away from your cell phone at the mention of the museum. Recalling what happened over the weekend, returning to that place doesn't seem like a terrific idea. But then again, if you are there with Taehyung, maybe the two of you can finally talk about what you see in your dreams.

Maybe, just maybe, you can get those answers.

Your resolve strengthens a little bit, and a new message comes through, one not from the group chat or Namjoon. You click out of your conversation with the leader and check the notification.

"Who are you?"

The question is blunt and straightforward, coming from the second-youngest member via a private chat. You open the message, and your fingers hover above the keyboard for a few moments.

"Hi Taehyung. What do you mean?"

"I know we've met before. I can't remember where."

You bite your lip at his statement. So you were right; he does have some sort of familiarity with you, too. Now, to figure out just how much.

"Have you been to a concert before? Or a fan-sign? Maybe you worked on the set of Hwarang?"

"None of those. I actually didn't listen to much of your music before recently, and I've never been to a concert or fan-sign. And I've never worked on any set before."

"You weren't a fan of BTS? Even though you applied to Big Hit?"

"Nope. Actually, my roommate Milo was the Bangtan superfan. I heard of you guys through her, and then of Big Hit. I applied because I wanted to live in Seoul. It's been my dream all my life. Big Hit just happened to have the job I wanted in the ideal location. Call it fate, I guess."

A half-truth, but it will have to do for now.

"I know. I remember. Your gut feeling."

You pause, your fingers halting mid-type. How did he already know about that? You hadn't mentioned it in either the group chat or in the earlier conversation. In fact, the only person you'd mentioned the gut feeling about Seoul to was—

"I have to go, sorry. I'll see you at the museum tomorrow. I think you know the way."

The museum looks almost spooky after the sun begins to set over the buildings that touch the sky. Downtown Seoul is as beautiful as ever as the bright oranges and pastel pinks bathe the exteriors of each in brilliant colors. If it weren't for the thirty or so Big Hit employees rushing about, you might've stood at the entrance for much longer than thirty seconds.

But the moment you're on-scene, you go to work. One of the producers flags you down, offers a brief introduction, and tells you where to hide the English words.

"Have you seen what we did a few episodes back, eighty-seven and eighty-eight?" he asks, shoving a stack of stickers into your hands. "When we put Hangul all over the Oil Tank Culture Park?"

You shake your head, offering a sheepish smile. "I haven't...exactly watched too much 'Run.'"

The producer waves it off. "Just run around the building and stick these wherever you think seven boys may or may not find them. Feel free to go crazy. We have fifteen minutes to get everything set before filming starts. The boys should be here soon. So, go! Once you're done, come back here. While they're running around, you can help me with the grading system."

"Grading system?"

"They're going to make sentences with the words they find. Since you know English the best, you can award points to each word based on difficulty in using."

A smile spreads across your face. "Got it! Sounds fun."

You speed off into the museum, weaving past the sound and lighting crew that are attempting to set up. Several of the museum staff have also stayed behind to give guidance, and you're relieved that the boys and company have the entire building to themselves. This wouldn't be possible during daytime hours when the public is here.

You begin sticking several dozen stickers along the walls, on the frames of pieces of art, on the marble floor. Basically, anywhere you can reach. You cover the Van Gogh exhibit with difficult words like "effervescence" and "halcyon," along with colorful words like "lilac" and "vermilion."

The further into the building you move, the fewer and fewer people you see. Once you've passed the room of modern art and approach the Winged Victory of Samothrace, there's no one in sight. Down to your last few words, you slip into the dimmed hallway and turn the corner.

Winged Victory is just as you remember. Tall and beautiful and haunting. The statue is still so familiar to you. Looking at the base, you can almost see the body of the woman from your dream. Right before you and Taehyung started running for your lives, this was where a murder occurred.

You flinch at the memory of the blood, but something else inside you is pulling you out of the room and towards the fountain. Last time you saw it, you ran from the room and left the friendly acquaintance behind. Part of you wonders what he must've thought. Surely, you looked like you'd seen a ghost.

But you might as well have.

Your feet tip-toe on the marble. The boys have most certainly arrived, and the filming has started from the sound of it. Their crazed and excited laughter fills the echo-y halls. Seeing as there aren't any stickers this far into the museum, you take your chances and continue moving deeper in. The producer could wait just a few more minutes, couldn't he?

The last of the sunlight ricochets across each panel of glass in the dome ceiling, greeting you with shards of light skewed in every direction. Like fireflies dancing together, they bring an almost magical aura to the open space, one very different from the horrors of your nightmares. The columns are made of ever-moving fire, and the fountain is made of glittery stars.

As you stand in the doorway, your throat drys and tightens. Seeing this place again, no matter how different, brings back the memories you can't explain. Are they even memories? Surely, that has to be what they are. But from when or from whom, you can't explain. They're a requiem for someone you hardly know.

Does Taehyung know the answers? Does he know more than you about this event you keep playing over and over in your mind? He's been in your dreams ever since you were a child, as a version much older than you were then and even older than you are now. Who has just one dream their whole lives, unless the explanation is that he has that dream, too?

You shake your head at the absurdity of it all. "What am I doing here?" you murmur, running your hand through your hair.

"Are you okay?"

The deep voice behind you causes you to jump and spin, eyes wide as you spot a familiar face at the entrance to the fountain. Taehyung stands with his hands in the pockets of his pants, his head tilted as he observes you.

"Holy shit, don't sneak up on people!"

The brunet smirks a little and shrugs. "Didn't mean to, sorry. You were staring off into space and didn't even hear me walk down the hallway. And it's hard to be quiet on marble floors."

"God, sorry, I didn't mean to snap." You run your hands over your face. "This museum has...some strange memories for me. I thought coming back here would help, but I think I've made it worse."

"How do you mean? I thought you hadn't been to Seoul before?"

"I haven't. It's complicated." Your eyes flicker to the corridor behind him. "Where's your cameraman?"

"I ditched him, told him I was running off to the restroom. But I didn't see you anywhere, so I figured you'd be back here."

Eyebrows pulling together, you reply, "How'd you figure that?"

"Well, you seemed really freaked out last weekend. You ran out of here like a ghost was chasing you. I was honestly worried until I saw you at Big Hit the next day, and you seemed fine, so..."

He trails off, and the realization of his words hits you. "Wait...shit, were you the one I was talking to both times I visited here this week? The one in the hoodie and mask?"

Taehyung nods, though there's a tiny line between his brows that shows he's as confused as you are. "Yes? I thought you knew that from day one, when you spoke to me at the Van Gogh exhibit."

Shaking your head fervently, you spout, "No! Not at all. I had no idea, honest to god. I just thought you were shy or introverted or maybe had a tough time talking to girls. I never, ever thought you were..." You gesture to all of him.

His brown eyes widen as he steps closer and out of the doorway. "Wait, really? You had no idea."

"None!"

He chuckles softly, turning to gaze at the fountain as the sunlight fades to soft blues of night. "I'd assumed you knew who I was. You were so open and friendly to a perfect stranger. I thought you'd recognized me."

"Not at all," you retort. "I was being nice and friendly because there was something about you that was so damn familiar. Kind of like this whole place, actually. I don't know. I can't explain it."

Taehyung nods and runs a hand through his curly locks. "I won't lie, there's something off about this place for me, too." He shifts his attention from the fountain to you. "You weren't lying about anything you said before, were you? About you being called to Seoul and not knowing why?"

You lock eyes with him as you reply, "I promise, everything I said was true."

"Then why did you run away?"

A heavy sigh slips out, and you sit down on the water fountain's edge. Looking into the water to your side, you run various ways to go about this disclosure. Blunt truth? A comforting lie? A bit of both?

"[Y/n]?"

"I've had this...nightmare, ever since I was a little girl. Ever since I could remember. It's always the same. I'm running for my life with someone I know that I care deeply about. We're trying to escape a murderer who's closing in behind us. He's just slaughtered one of our friends and he's coming for us."

You pause to take a breath, and Taehyung takes that pause to sit beside you. He doesn't say a word, only waist patiently for you to continue.

"We're eventually trapped. The man with me tells me to run while he distracts the murderer. Of course, I don't listen. There's a fight. We're both injured. And we both die."

There's a pregnant pause in the air before Taehyung hangs his head and murmurs, "That sounds horrible."

"I haven't told you everything," you reply. "I'm afraid I shouldn't...but what the hell." You gesture to the space around you. "In my dream, the entire thing is set here, in the Seoul Museum of Art. Our friend was killed at the base of Winged Victory. The fight happens among these columns. And the man and I, we die in this very fountain, bleeding out from gunshot wounds."

You turn to face the man beside you, seeing his eyes shift from his feet to yours as his head tilts slightly. "And every time, it's the same three people besides me. The same woman at the base of Winged Victory, the same murderer with a gun, the same man that this nightmare-version of me loves. I have no idea who the first two are..."

In your hesitation, Taehyung says, "But you know the last one."

Nodding, your knuckles turn white as you drip your knees. Here it goes. All or nothing. No turning back now.

"I do. He's—"

"—Me."

Taglist — @just-call-me-trash-can​, @jaienn​

[beardrabbles]

THIN ICE

rating: k

words: 1796

characters: female stark reader, peter parker, tony stark

notes: ( ao3 request ) I deleted the chapter with the request like the dummy I am, but the gist of it was reader is a Stark, and Peter is frightened of Tony after learning that. Been a while, but I’m glad to be writing for you all again! :D

tags: none

“Weather’s nice…”

“Mhmm.”

“Would really suck if it was raining.”

“Yeah, it would.”

You spare a moment to glance at the boy beside you and find him muttering quietly to himself, the tone reprimanding and self-depreciating. Without meaning to, you giggled. You had fully anticipated waiting alone on the edge of the street, but another had arrived not long after you had. Clearly, the ones that had promised to pick you up were late, forcing awkward interaction between you and the one with splotchy, red cheeks. Although, now that you were getting a longer look at him — with his pushed back hair and his kind eyes — something about him seemed familiar.

“I feel like I’ve seen you before, but I don’t remember you being in any of my classes.” You turned to him, giving him your undivided attention. “Have we met before?”

The boy chuckled nervously and gave his lean shoulders a shrug. “I don’t think we have. I mean, aside from now. Now we’ve met.”

“Have we?” You arched a brow, and it only made him redder still. “Cause it still doesn’t feel like I know who you are.”

“Oh, yeah! Parker. Uh, Peter.” He held a hand out and smiled twitchily.

“Peter Parker? Nice to meet you. My name is (Y/N).” You were sure to avoid saying your last name, and he didn’t seem to catch that. Your first name was enough to make his eyes light up and his posture slacken even after you placed your hand in his.

“(Y/N). That’s a nice name.” He shook your hand for a second too long, but was prompt in dropping it after he realized how long he’d held it for. “You waiting for someone to pick you up?”

“Yeah, my dad.” You rolled your eyes and looked down both ends of the street, but didn’t spot the car you knew your father was driving. There was always the possibility it would blend in, except your father’s car was far from dusty or rusty or average. You knew for an absolute fact that you’d recognize it from miles away, and you had yet to see it after waiting nearly an hour. “Figures he’d be late.”

“I dunno, I’m kind of glad he’s late. Wouldn’t have been able to talk to you if he got here on time.” Peter became flushed again, and so did you. “Hey, I know this is sudden, but would you wanna hang out with me and my friends tomorrow? We were going to get pizza and relax a little before tests start next week.”

“Relaxing before tests? No studying?”

“It’s Ned’s idea, and I think he’s right. We can only study so much, and pizza’s good.” Peter laughed, and you joined in soon after.

“He is right. Y’know, I’ve been here for about a week and I’ve done nothing but run around. Keeping up with my classes, getting used to being in a new state, new school, not knowing anyone — it’s a pain. I think vegging out over some pizza would do me some good.”

“Great! Here.” Peter fished out his phone and handed it over. “So I can tell you where we’re meeting.”

“Good idea.” He didn’t give you the impression that he was doing this just to get your number, but you would have given it to him either way. Peter seemed nice and a little dorky, but you knew you could be too.

You tapped your number into his phone, and he was quick to send you a text so you could add his number in exchange. The single pizza slice emoji elicited a giggle before you put your phone away. “So, are you waiting for someone too?”

Peter nodded and began to rock on the soles of his sneakers. “Yeah! My mentor’s got something planned for me, and he said he’d pick me up today to make things easier.”

“Mentor? Are you an intern?” You would have been more surprised, but most of the students you now shared a school with were smart enough to own their own business.

“It’s not a big deal.” Peter shrugged modestly and looked down at his feet. “It’s just some big, hot-shot guy. Super cool. His tech is beyond what I expected. Loads smarter than me, but he’s teaching me so much. He’s kind of the best, but I think he already knows that.”

“Not a big deal, huh?” You laughed and nudged him with your shoulder. “He sounds pretty great. Who is it?”

“Oh, uh... You’ve heard of him. Everyone has.” His hesitation was endearing but ill timed. As he struggled with the balance between modesty and excited bragging, a car pulled up alongside the street. The slick, black exterior still managed to glisten despite the overcast sky and the looming threat for rain. The windows were tinted, of course, but you knew who sat in the driver’s seat.

“Looks like Dad finally decided to show up.” You adjusted the pack on your back and grinned towards Peter, but all you saw was confusion.

“Dad? But that’s Mr. Stark’s car.”

It was your turn to look at him strangely. “Mr. Stark? You sound like one of the people that works for him.”

“I don’t work for him, but——”

“He idolizes me.” Tony stepped out of the car, a cheeky smirk on his lips. “Who doesn’t?” 

You wanted to groan loudly at your father’s mountain sized ego, but you had less self-centered people to talk to at the moment. Addressing Peter again, you had only one question. “Let me guess, he’s the mentor you were talking about?”

“He never told me he had a daughter!” Peter balked.

“You never asked.” Tony countered. He moved around the nose of the car, brown eyes peering over the tops of his sunglasses. “I had a feeling you two would run into each other eventually.”

“How come I haven’t run into her while working with you?” Peter looked between the two of you, spotting minor similarities in posture, facial structure and ( now that the two of you were speaking ) the cadence in speech.

“Because I’m not his shadow, as much as he’d love for me to be.” You pass him a smile, but it was too sweet and clearly fake. The smile he gave you in return was soft and genuine, a rare sight. An arm wrapped around your shoulder and pulled you in, his facial hair rough against your temple where he placed a loving, fatherly kiss.

“She’s got her own plans. Whether they follow mine or they go in an entirely different direction doesn’t matter. She’s a Stark! She’s destined to be the best in any field!” He bragged, giving your shoulders an extra squeeze before releasing you. You were flush under his praise, and you had to wonder what you’d done to deserve such an accepting father.

“This.  .  . is weird.” Peter frowned, and it caused both you and Tony to raise an eyebrow in such a way that it only weirded him out more that you two were so alike.

“What’s weird about it?” Tony asked.

“I just asked her ou——” Peter sucked in a breath, paused with his mouth open, then clamped his lips shut. Sadly, it was too late. Tony tensed beside you, and you felt the need to leap forward and protect Peter from the sudden shift in atmosphere.

“He wanted me to hang out with him and his friends.” You quickly amended.

Tony licked behind his lower lip and shoved his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans, his whole posture threatening. There was a moment of silence, but it somehow still felt noisy with the sheer amount of thoughts rolling around in Tony’s head.

“Him and his friends, or just him?” The question he posed felt like it was meant for you, but his dark eyes remained on Peter. Because of this, you kept your mouth shut and let him answer.

“Mr. Stark, you know I’d never——”

“Alone or with friends, Parker?” The sharp jab of his last name made Peter flinch.

“With friends! You know them. I’ve told you about them. Ned and MJ wanted to get pizza and hang out, but we haven’t picked a place yet. So we exchanged numbers so I could tell her when we did. I swear, it’s just to chill out before testing next week.” He sounded pleading, and it annoyed you — not because the pleading itself bothered you, but because your father was causing it.

“Dad, get back in the freakin’ car.” You grabbed his arm and turned him around, hands pushing at his back. He didn’t fight you off, but he did raise his hands while complaining.

“You’re dismissing your own father? I’m hurt, (Y/N). I never thought a boy would be more important than family.” He followed along as he was lead back to the driver side door.

“You are an actual menace. Leave us alone. I’m a big girl, and I want friends.” Once you neared the door, you lowered your voice so only he could hear. “You know him, right? Is he alright?”

“He’s more than alright.” Tony whispered back. “He’s one of the smartest kids I’ve met, aside from you. A little on a dweeb side, but you could make worse friends. Don’t tell him I said that, you I’m docking your allowance.”

“You won’t.” You smiled and bit at your lip. “So I can go with him?”

“Only if I’m allowed to mess with him a little more.” Perfectly white teeth were flashed in a cheeky grin. “I think I freaked him out.”

“I think so too.” You suppressed the urge to laugh and stepped back. “But you’re an actual butthead.”

“I know.” Tony winked, then put on another severe expression that he directed towards Peter. Sharply and menacingly, he motioned with two fingers that he would be keeping his eyes on the young hero. Peter stammered again, but Tony had already folded himself into the driver’s seat.

You moved around the car again and stopped in front of Peter, a spring in your step.

“Text me when you’ve got it figured out. I wanna come along.” You smiled shyly and nudged your shoulder against his. “See you, Peter!”

Peter lifted a hand in farewell, but made it a point to avoid looking anywhere in Tony’s direction. “Yeah! See you. Later. Tomorrow.”

You fled into the car, but rolled your window down at the request of your father. He leaned across you and shouted through the window as he slowly rolled the car forward.

“Watch yourself, Parker! I’ll know if you try anything!”

And with that, you and your father drove away, leaving Peter to panic on his own.

[syms-things-5]

Clear The Area - Chapter Eight

Previous Chapter Here

Warning: Language. NSFW. Unprotected sex (be careful guys)

Notes: Apologies this is a little (a lot) longer than planned, but hope you enjoy it!

CHAPTER EIGHT

Chris knew this would more than likely be the last time he would see his friends for a while. The reshoots loomed ever closer, the knot in his stomach was getting tighter, and he was growing more and more unnerved at the prospect of what was lying ahead of him. He was determined to make the most of this night as much as he physically could.

He showered and made himself vaguely presentable, ignoring the navy Chanel sweater and trousers that had arrived earlier that morning and opting instead for a plain white tee and jeans. His favourite red belt made a special appearance. He began regretting his decision to allow his management team to redecorate his pad in order to make it “friendlier on the eye” as soon as he took stock of his open lounge. They’d shifted some of the furniture around, added some fresh flowers and balloons here and there, and taken down the photograph of a family trip to Disney that used to be hanging in the entrance hallway. There was also a distinctly sweet and fragrant smell of freesias wafting through the air. It smelled like Springtime and positivity. He hated it.

Just a few “unfiltered” photographs, they said. Nothing too intrusive of stressful. Now, however, they were looking to cover up the potential fall-out from his fling with Jenny after she’d helpfully announced the day before that she was starting divorce proceedings. Matt had taken to messaging him at half-hour intervals to remind him his house needed to be bustling with as many people as possible even if he didn’t know them all personally. He needed to look carefree, he was instructed, and unbothered by whatever may be going on in somebody else’s private life because it had nothing to do with him, right? Maybe flirt a little bit. Bring out the “big guns” and the Boston “bro” personality his fans loved to see. For God’s sake, just try to look as single as possible.

People weren’t due to start arriving until 7 but it didn’t stop Chris from drinking almost as soon as he had woken up, calling on Scott and a couple of his oldest pals to come and join him for some pre-party beers. 

“Woah.” said Gary, walking in closely behind Scott, carrying a crate of Budweiser. He rook one exaggerated sniff of the perfumed air surrounding him. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say we’d come to the wrong place!”

“Are we allowed to touch anything?” joked Scott, mocking him by tip-toeing in past the guys.

“Don’t ask. Just do whatever you like, please. I need it to at least feel like it’s still my home.” Chris scratched his head in disbelief. It looked more like something featured on the ‘gram of a would-be influencer than the home of a 30-something bachelor who had no time for soft furnishings and Feng Shui.

“Bro, it’s your birthday! You could at least look happy about it.”

Chris wasn’t drunk enough to muster much more than a half-smile at his brother at that point but figured a few more beers might encourage him to lighten up. He must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed. He was about to follow the lads into his kitchen when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. If it was Matt bugging him one more time, he swore he’d throw the phone out of the window.

     Unknown 1.09pm

     Happy birthday sweetie. Can’t wait to see you again x

“Who’s that?” said Scott as he emerged from the kitchen, beer in hand.

Chris just shook his head. “I have absolutely no idea.”

Gradually as the hours passed by, a steady stream of people started making their presence known. Most parties Chris threw rarely went off as originally organised but he didn’t much care. It was always implied that his downtown apartment had an open-door policy when it came to friends and family turning up unannounced. Hell, many would stay for days at a time and he wouldn’t care. If he was holding a party or a game night, people could just show up whenever they felt like it even if Chris himself wasn’t awake or ready to greet them in person. 

The vibe soon started picking up and the music was louder now. Scott had made various playlists and was doing the duty of hosting people better than Chris, who had been glued to his phone on and off for most of the afternoon. More and more of his friends arrived with their partners and Chris would give them a bro-shake but pretty much leave them to it. It was...odd. He wasn’t sure what was going on but he was growing concerned that his brother wasn’t much enjoying his birthday celebrations. The table in the hallway was rife with gifts and cards, and the beer and alcohol levels were not in danger of diminishing any time soon. Chris had gone overboard on catered food but he himself had yet to touch anything. That was a danger sign, Scott thought. Last thing he needed was a drunk and melancholy actor on his hands this earlier in the evening. Thankfully, Chris perked up as soon as he saw his mom and Shanna arrive, and Scott breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hello darling. Happy birthday!” Lisa called out to him and embraced him in a typical motherly hug, all stretched arms and smiles, running her hand under his chin as he pulled away. “How is everything?”

“Yeh, all good. Thanks mom. You look great!” Chris moved in to kiss her on the cheek again before pulling back to allow Scott his turn. “Wow, Shan, I really didn’t think you could make that shade of yellow look even more grotesque but you did it!”

When she was sure Lisa couldn’t see her, Shanna flipped him the bird. Chris feigned offense before wrapping his arm tightly around her shoulders and walking her towards the lounge. “Baby sis, you can’t be mean to me on my birthday.”

“Ugh...I really can’t handle you when I don’t have a drink in my hand.”

“Then let’s fix that!”

Chris shifted past a few friends, all greeting him and patting him on the back as he and his sister moved by. Several faces he didn’t recognise so Matt would be proud of him, he thought. “So, is Sarah travelling separate to you guys?” Chris asked, finally taking one of the wrapped boxed out of his mom’s hands.

“I think so. Do you want these in the fridge or in the pantry for later?” Lisa asked indicating the cupcakes she’d been asked to pick up on the way over.

“Um, just leave them there for now, it’s fine.”

Before he got a chance to speak to his mother again, it was too late. He watched as she was grabbed by Josh and his new girlfriend and started to make her way around her son’s oldest friends, greeting them all as though she hadn’t seen them in years. Shanna reappeared next to him, rifling through the bottles of vodka until she landed on her favourite. 

“Is Sarah not coming then?” Chris asked, more concerned this time than no one seemed to know exactly where she was.

“Not if you’re going to continue being a dick to her, she’s not.” Shanna turned around to Chris’s fridge and began perusing the selection of mixers. “Where’s the cranberry juice?”

“It’s inside the door.” He responded. Shanna couldn’t see for looking but finally located the carton of juice and poured a fraction of what she needed into the glass before topping it up with a very generous amount of vodka. “I was kind hoping to apologise to her in person actually. Is she still really upset? She hasn’t answered my texts.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, you were out of like, Chris. But yes, she’ll be here, I’m sure. I think she just had something to do first.”

Chris knew Shanna was hiding something from him. She was a terrible liar.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He grabbed the glass from her hands. “I am not looking after you tonight.”

“Don’t worry, Grandpa. I’ll make sure she gets home safe.” Scott reappeared alongside them, merrier than before and holding a small plate of food for Chris. “Why don’t you ‘mingle’ mingle? Your audience awaits, kind Sir.”

Just as Chris was about to protest, his phone vibrated again in his pocket.

Unknown 9.22pm

I hope you’re having a great time tonight. The party looks amazing! Can’t wait to catch up with you properly x

*

At some point around 10pm, Chris escaped. He retreated to his little hideout behind a tree that gave him a clear view of his property without the pressure of being spotted by anyone inside. His phone had buzzed a couple more times and he was now sure if was Jenny reaching out to him. She’d been leaving little heart emojis on some photographs that had already appeared online. He felt a little sick and just needed to get away from the crowds, now tipsier than he was, annoyingly. He took the cigarette he’d bunged from a friend and lit it, savouring the feeling. In that moment was possibly the calmest he’d felt all day.

“Who are you hiding from, birthday boy?” Chris knew it would be Scott who would find him eventually.

Chris shrugged. “No one. Just needed the air.”

“Yeh right. Mom knows you smoke by the way. No point hiding it now.” Scott took the cigarette and took a slow drag before handing it back to him. “Zach hates me smoking inside.”

“Is that why you started running?” Chris smirked.

“Running’s healthy. It’s all about balance.” Scott observed his brother for a moment. “What’s going on? You’ve been quiet all day. You’ve only had, what, three beers? That’s not like you.”

Chris shrugged unconvincingly, avoiding eye contact before his phone buzzed again. He quickly dove into his pocket to grab it but shifted uncomfortably when he saw who it was.

“Somebody’s keen.” Scott didn’t need to ask to know who it was. He could read his brother like a book. “Can’t believe she hasn’t got the message by now.” Scott continued to eye him, unsure of what was going through his head. “That’s not what’s got you down, is it? There’s nothing going on, is there?”

Chris glanced at his brother and shook his head. He knew he’d been caught out and at this point he was too tired to deny it. “I still haven’t heard from Sarah. I’ve tried apologising and it’s like she’s just ghosting me or something.”

“Stop being melodramatic. She lives with your sister. She’s not “ghosting” you, you dick.” His attempt to lighten the mood between them fell flat and he realised humour was going to be wasted on Chris this evening. “She’s got a lot on her plate right now, what with Charlotte and work and everything. Just give her a break, OK? It’s a tricky think she’s trying to navigate here.”

“I don’t know about that.” He shook his head slowly, crushing the cigarette under his shoe. “I said she was being ungrateful.”

Scott sighed. “Well, that’ll explain it. Hey, remember when Shan was a teenager and she got all those letters out of the blue?” Chris nodded at the distant memory. “I think the one thing we need to keep in mind here, with Sarah, is that she chose to reach back. She’s doing things her way and no one is forcing her. That’s gotta be a positive, right?”

*

Sarah felt like an idiot. She had no one to blame but herself. She couldn’t even lean on Shanna for support right now and she didn’t want to disturb Audrey at this hour if she was mid-celebration with Michael. She threw her coat on the stand and stood in the hallway of her apartment, bag swinging low. She kicked off her shoes and took off her tights to feel the coolness of the floor on the soles of her feet. It was a small comfort. The text message was still showing on her phone that was grasped in her hand as if she hadn’t been staring at it for the past three hours.

Charlotte 7.52pm

I’m so sorry. I thought I could do this. Please forgive me.

Sarah had decided to arrive at the venue a little earlier than they’d agreed to meet. She didn’t know what she was planning on doing by deciding that but she just knew she couldn’t sit around the flat any longer, her stomach was tied in knots. She hadn’t eaten much of anything that day but claimed she was saving herself for the extensive catering Chris would no doubt have laid on now that his guest list had multiplied.

She had spent some time getting ready with Shanna and Lisa but left her hair and make-up quite simple figuring she could add to it on the way to the party later on. She didn’t want to make an unfair first impression on Charlotte. She knew she didn’t want to look like she was a party girl but equally so, she didn’t want to appear to have given too much thought to what she was wearing to meet her in the first place. She wanted to remain as casual as possible which was some kind of weird irony given what was taking place.

She managed to make a relatively quiet exit as Lisa was helping zip up the back of Shanna’s jumpsuit telling them she’d be there as soon as she could. They didn’t ask her any questions. She just left and got into the cab that was waiting for her around the corner. A little under fifteen minutes later, she was outside the bar, trying to regulate her breathing. Maybe Charlotte was already inside? Maybe she had had the exact same thought and was having one for courage before they met? That thought made her laugh a little. She opened the door and gave her name to the rep who proceeded to show her to a nice booth in the far corner. Charlotte hadn’t arrived after all but Sarah had a clear eye on the door, as much good as it did her.

She poured herself another glass and wiped at the tears in her eyes. She couldn’t believe she had been reduced to crying over someone she had never met. She couldn’t believe she had allowed herself to assume everything would work out despite evidence to the contrary.

Everyone was right. She was a fool.

She heard the door go but couldn’t face seeing Shanna. She swiped at her face as much as she could, trying to remove any and all hints of her crying. Shanna told her once she was jealous of how she could cry without her skin getting all red and blotchy.

She clocked the time and realised it was perhaps a little too early for her to be coming home unless Scott had shoved her into a taxi, which wouldn’t have surprised her. Loud music and a free bar were Shan’s undoing. She composed herself and waiting for Shanna to appear in the doorway, worse for wear, but everything had gone silent. Sarah got up and walked out of the kitchen, not sure what to expect but certainly not expecting to find Chris stood with his back against the foot, keys dangling between his fingers. He seemed smaller somehow.

His expression briefly turned towards guilt when he noticed she had been crying. He made a move towards her before ultimately deciding against it, preferring to remain still in her hallway. He looked awkward which was a feat in itself for someone who always seemed so...cool, she thought. It didn’t last long, though, a steeliness soon returning to his eyes.

“Hey,” said Sarah diffusing the silence. She suddenly became hyper-aware she was in the Chanel dress he’d given her to wear for his birthday party, the party she should have been at hours ago but instead chose to blow off carelessly in favour of meeting somebody who really shouldn’t have mattered. Shit, she thought. She was a terrible friend. “I’m so sorry, Chris. I really don’t know wh-”

“-You know, I could have done with seeing you there, Sarah. It’s been a fucking terrible day, I’ve had my team hounding me over this Jenny bullshit and having my friends around me would have made all the difference.”

“I just,” she wasn’t sure where to go from here. He’d become so cold in the last few moments. She wasn’t really expecting it but knew she’d pushed her luck a little too much this evening. “I had something I needed to do first, and-”

“I don’t ask for much from my family but the one thing I do expect is that they turn up when they say they’re gonna turn up. You understand me? It’s my fuckin’ birthday after all and you couldn’t even manage that.” He moved past her, ignoring the tears now burning at the corners of her eyes.

“Alright Chris, you’ve made your point.” she whispered. The room felt too small and Chris looked like he’d grown a foot out of pure frustration. She just wanted to go to bed and forget this day ever happened or at least get Chris to leave so she could feel pathetic in peace.

She could detect a faint small of tobacco coming from his breath now he was standing closer to her. “What was so important that you couldn’t make it? Must have been amazing to blow us off like that and please don’t tell me it was Greg. I didn’t think you of all people would sack family off for some fuck you’re ambivalent about at best.”

She felt like a scolded child. Actually, no, it felt worse than that. It felt like he was picking at her, trying to get some kind of reaction out of her but what that reaction was, she didn’t know. She took a breath and calmed herself. Her hands were shaking. She was pretty sure he noticed now.

“It wasn’t like that,” she said, as calmly as possible. “I’ve said I’m sorry, Chris. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, OK? Your family and friends were there and I was planning on dropping by.” She pleaded, her tone striving to be a little more even. She figured if she tried reasoning with him instead of pushing back it might allow them both to get out of this unscathed but he just scoffed.

“Dropping by? Well, gee, thank you for making me an afterthought, Sarah. I really appreciate that.”

“It’s not just you that’s had a crap night, OK?” She shouted before reigning herself in. She really didn’t want to fall out with him on top of everything else. “We all have shit to deal with. At least people turned up to see you. They care about you. They didn’t just leave you hanging around, wondering what you’d done wrong.”

Chris looked confused. He signed and placed his hands on his hips, unsure of what his next move would be. “What’s going on?”

She could feel herself tearing up again, her face getting hotter by the second. She hated crying in front of people and it invariably gave her a headache, one she’d most likely fail to overcome before bedtime. “I arranged to meet her this evening. I didn’t want to say anything to anyone until I’d seen her at least once but, um, she didn’t show.”

For once, Chris didn’t have any answers. If he had been thoughtful instead of the selfish asshole he recognised himself to be, he would have known to have shut his goddamn mouth. “Fuck, Sarah. I...I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.” He took another step closer to her but she made no effort to react towards him. “You don’t deserve this.”

Sarah audibly scoffed. “Well, that’s a maybe. But hey, look, happy birthday! Looks like you were right all along! I’ll make sure to wrap it next time.”

“If I’d have known what you’ve been through today, I would have shut my mouth. You’re one of my best friends and I was just thinking of myself, like always.” He leaned against the doorframe and Sarah recognised how pathetic they both looked in that second.

“What kind of person do you have to be to reject someone twice?” Sarah whispered to herself more than anything. She gently banged her head against the doorframe in thought. She wasn’t looking for a response.

Silence passed between them for what felt like hours. They were good at being quiet around each other, neither feeling the need to dispel energy and not caring what the other was doing but this didn’t feel like those times before. She glanced across the doorway at him but didn’t recognise what was looking back at her so intently. He looked like he’d been suspended in motion and if it wasn’t for her tapping her foot on the wall behind her, she would have thought she had, too. Everything just seemed a little fuzzy now and there was a headache threatening her from behind her eyes.

Before she could move again, Chris had crossed what little space there was between them and went for her, his hands grabbing her face and pulling her into him. It was messy at first, their lips slightly out of line with each other and she couldn’t think, she couldn’t breathe. He’d taken the breath straight from her, it felt like. The only thing she could do in that moment was to grab back at his hands that were holding her face but she didn’t feel like pulling them away. Not just yet. For the first time, she had some power over what was happening to her. She was tired of being a good person, being vulnerable for others to use whenever they felt like.

She felt his lips slowly move across hers, calmer now, while she stayed almost still in his grasp. She felt one hand leave her face and reappear on her lower back and he pulled her in to bring her closer. They must have occupied less than a square foot of space stood like this. Everything was silent apart from what Sarah assumed was her heart beating or perhaps that was his? She couldn’t separate them at this point, a perfect fit soon only disturbed by the shrill buzz from someone’s phone in their nearby vicinity.

“Fuck!” Chris whisper-shouted pulling away from her, biting his bottom lip. Sarah scrabbled around to find her bag in the hallway before signing when she saw who it was. She took a breath so as not to give the game away.

“Shan? No, it’s fine, honestly.” Chris could only hear one side of the conversation as she spoke on the phone but could instantly tell from Sarah’s inability to get a sentence out that Shanna was drunk and giving her the third degree. He wanted to grab the phone and smash it against the wall. “No, it’s no problem. Don’t worry, OK? Yes. Yes, I’ll see you in a bit. Alright. Bye, lovely.”

Sarah had turned away from Chris at this point and looked down at the phone in front of her. She pursed her lips, embarrassed that she could still feel him on her. She thought she might have been imagining things but that was definitely his hand gently touching her on her hip where he’d held her just moments ago. She turned around to face him but one look into his blue eyes and she felt like she was going to collapse on the floor. She was pretty sure he could feel her shaking but he kept his grip on her, trying to work out what she was thinking. She just shook her head slowly and in confusion at what transpired and walked out of the kitchen, down the hall to the bathroom hoping to get some privacy and some cold water on her face.

She didn’t get very far. Chris followed her and grabbed her wrist, swinging her back towards him until she crashed against him again, unsteady on her feet. There was no time to think before his lips were on hers again, harder than they were before. He had his arms around her waist and started walking her backwards towards...something, she couldn’t register what. 

She briefly resisted his movements but after a few steps or so he made do with the wall next to her bedroom doorway. He pressed her hards against it, his hands now back cupping her face. She could feel how hard he had become with the way he pushed his crotch into her in an attempt to keep her still against him. She knew she didn’t want to break away again, she was tired of fighting and was ready to let it just wash over her. She grabbed at his sweater with both fists and moaned into his kiss.

She shoved him until he felt his back meet the opposite wall. The groan that left him was nothing short of filthy and something inside her snapped when she felt his hands fist in her hair while the other slipped down to grip her ass. She felt him pull up the hem of her dress, his fingers gently skimming the back of her thighs. He grabbed at her just underneath her ass and pulled her against him harder than before until they lost their balance and she ended up on top of him as he slid down the wall and hit the hard wood floor beneath them. They’d have bruises tomorrow but they didn’t care.

He desperately grabbed at the hem of her dress again, this time to feel her soft skin between her thighs. Her skin was so smooth and not to the touch, he couldn’t bear it. She felt like she was on fire. He managed to pull her panties to one side but she felt them rip as she furiously gripped at the belt on his trousers. He worked out pretty quickly what she was trying to do and took over for them both to release himself as quickly as possible. In one move he placed her where he wanted her. He heard her sharp intake of breath and looked up just in time to see the look of pleasure on her face as he entered her, perhaps harder than he had intended to but she didn’t seem to mind.

Her eyes closed. He could see the blush covering her skin and her neck and he reached out to pull her face back to him as he motioned for her to move on top of him. He filled her, thrusting into her as much as he could from this angle and briefly regretted not keeping them up against the wall. He knew it would be over in a matter of seconds at this rate. They were both struggling to feel something. Make something of this godawful day.

He couldn’t take his eyes off the way she was moving. He felt her wavering slightly as he quickly approached his own release, her eyes open now and looking down at him. Their staggered breaths were the only sound filling the space. He was so close and he knew she would be too but he couldn’t ignore the look of fear growing apparent on her face. The glazed look in his eyes felt like electricity coursing through her veins. She didn’t know it could feel as exciting as it did to be encouraged along by him like this, his hands firm on her hips, gliding her up and down, keeping him firmly inside her. She had to look away and she began to move faster, slightly out of rhythm now, scraping her knees against the floor on either side of him, pain that only served to heighten the pleasure.

She could feel him throbbing inside her as his legs began to shake and his breathing quickened. The sound of them both hitting the floor over and over again only served to push her on even more against her better judgement. It was too late to stop now. They would just have to deal with the consequences another time.

He tried to hold off from his own orgasm for as long as possible. He wanted more than anything to see her hit her peak as he held her hips tighter and moved her so she could take him harder. One of her hands pushed back against the wall behind him in order to find purchase and it was this move that ultimately caused them both to hit the point of no return.

He didn’t know who came first but it didn’t matter. After a few moments, their breathing started to even out, their skin showing that unmistakable sheen of sweat that only sex could give. Without thinking, he wrapped one arm around her waist and stroked the strands of hair out of her face. He wanted her to look at him as she continued to get her breathing under control but her eyes were too tightly shut. He look scuffed up from their actions and his pupils were blown wide open. She couldn’t even imagine the state she was in. If he could have found a little strength to speak in that moment, he would have told her she was more beautiful than he’d ever seen her look before. Perhaps wisely, he decided to save that for another time.

Oh fuck.

Sarah’s brain went into overdrive as she gradually came back to reality. Chris was trying to figure out what was going through her mind as he felt her slip off him and shuffle herself to the side, pulling the hem of her dress down in a rather redundant effort to protect her modesty. Her underwear was left wrapped around one ankle as she tried to move onto her knees to stand up. She wiped at her mouth with the side of her hand and in that moment, he thought she might start crying again.

“Fuck.” She rubbed her face with her hands. He didn’t think she meant for him to hear that. It was the last thing he thought he would hear her say. He made a grab for her hand but she avoided his grasp as she stood and, on shaky legs, walked back into the kitchen leaving him ruined on the floor against the wall, shaken in more ways than one.

She couldn’t register her surrounding. She felt like she was about to throw up. How could this have happened? How could she be so stupid?

She held herself as she contemplated all the things she would need to say to him to try and make this better. No words made sense in her mind and those that did, she could barely string together to form coherent sentences. She heard Chris enter the room behind her but he stopped just inside of the doorway seemingly as unable to speak as much as she was. This was bad, she thought. So fucking bad. She felt embarrassed when she eventually clocked his messed-up hair. He looked dazed by the whole thing. No doubt his back would be bearing the brunt of their heavy mistake.

she finally reached his eyes and was met with a shy smile and a look she didn’t quite recognise. Was it pity? Concern? Regret? All of the above most probably, she couldn’t quite tell.

“Sarah,” he whispered, swallowing. “I’m....” He took a couple of steps forwards, holding his hand out to reach her, offering what he thought would be some kind of solace.

“I think you need to get back to your party,” She said calmly, deflecting the situation, tears forming in her eyes.

“Sarah, please, I don’t want...”

“People are going to be wondered where you are, Chris. You should go.”

Chris tried to focus on her face in an attempt to find something there other than the shame she was failing to hide. He wished he could get to her but the space she was putting between them felt wider than the kitchen they were stuck in. Resigned, he bowed his head slowly and turned to leave half expecting, or possibly wanting, her to stop him.

*

[forestfanders]

Birds of a feather - pt 3 Emoticons

A long list of injuries on the page, and a longer list of potential responses to their trauma. Working out how to treat the pair of tiny humanoid avians was going to be a challenge, but it is one Logan and Patton are determined to meet. Pt 2: Roman tests the boundaries of this new place. whump, hurt/comfort and dehumanisation <3 wingfic tw: animal abuse, mention of burns and neglect AO3 link

chapter 1/ chapter 2/ 

The bird man had given Patton the most adorable little wave, and the therapist had felt his heart break a little more.

The pair had been a mess. Their tiny bodies were swamped with bandages, but most harrowing was the wariness in their postures. Princey’s eyes had been clouded with fear, but held a longing to interact, to answer Patton’s questions. Patton just knew there was an outgoing free spirit under there, just waiting to be given permission to shine beneath the fear he had been subjected to. And Anxiety had lived up to his name. The poor kiddo had been practically catatonic in a dissociative fugue, but Patton knew that with a good environment and plenty of reassurance, he too could find peace.

When he looked at them, Patton knew he wanted to protect them.

And he had a plan.

Step one was to get them feeling a bit more secure. Remy had mentioned the pair weren’t eating, weren’t speaking, weren’t doing much of anything in their frightening new surroundings filled with uncertainty. And so Patton had talked gently to the other sick animals in the room, reassuring them, and carefully laying the groundwork for a conversation with the avians. And it seemed to have worked: while not exactly comfortable, they were able to pay attention to what he was saying.  

Step two was to get them actually eating and looking after themselves. After what had seemed a gargantuan feat of bravery, Princey had managed to eat some chicken. Logan had stealthily wandered past a couple of hours later and had sighted Anxiety tackling a large piece of spinach, so there was hope that he too was now eating.

The next steps were to find a temporary home for them, work out some habitat enrichment to keep them entertained, and finally, to introduce enough human interaction to help them on their way to long-term psychological recovery and a forever home.

Patton had been picking at ‘creating a welcoming home for your avian’ and ‘cute toys for bird bois’ articles since he had got home. He put another round of notes in the haphazard googledoc he was compiling. He wanted to do the very best he could for them, but it was starting to get overwhelming.

-88888-

It was only 7:58, but Logan couldn’t wait the extra 2 minutes to text Patton tonight. His brain would not switch off from the events of the day, could not be swayed from the conundrum that was the animal rescue’s latest arrivals. He may be breaking his standard evening routine texting early, but tonight it was necessary.

Logie Bearry Jam: Good evening Patton, how was your dinner?

He sent the text, and picked up the blanket he was crocheting, trying to lose himself in the movement of the hook and the weaving of the wool until Patton replied back.

Pattoncakes: tofu and carrot stir fry with rice 🥕🍚😍🥰😇🍽️✨👻😽

Logan smiled internally at Patton's enthusiastic use of emojis. While in others the behaviour may have been grating, with Patton, it was just another outlet of the man’s effervescence.

Logie Bearry Jam: that sounds delicious. I had pasta with tomato sauce. I liked it.

These texts were a ritual, the same kind of message Logan sent every night. Peace washed into his veins.

Patton shot off a gif of the spaghetti scene from Lady and the tramp.

Pattoncakes: Spagooto🍝👨🍳sounds good! What are you up to tonight?

Logie Bearry Jam:: I am crocheting a blanket. How about you?

Pattoncakes: 🐥🐥💞🤕I have been reading a lil bit about our newest arrivals <3.

And there was the perfect opportunity to sway the conversation in the direction of his current worries. It was understandable that Patton would also be worrying about the same subject, and yet he suspected Patton knew he was worrying about the avians as well. Logan knew many people saw him as unfeeling. But Patton understood. He was good like that.

Logie Bearry Jam: I too have been thinking of the avains. Have you read anything interesting?

Patton sent a link to a google doc filled with links and notes.

Logan threw himself in.

For such delicate pets as humanoid avians, the information on how to look after them was muddied and mixed up, torn between the reality of what they were and what owners wished them to be. Dolls, children, highly-trainable, simple animals, held to the behavioural standards of adults, there was a mishmash of conflicting ideas.

Patton’s notes were in the early draft stage, filled with questions and ideas. He was not as focused on medical concerns Logan, instead choosing to consider a wide range of issues. He outlined every issue well, and had the therapeutic knowledge to challenge false behavioural information.

The document was beautiful.

Logan and Patton’s work rarely intertwined, and so it was rare that Logan got to see this side of the therapy worker. The side that was intelligent in his kindness, the thought process behind his ability to make people feel safe. Logan marveled anew at the incredible man his co-worker was, how capable, how eloquent...

What a joy to be a friend to a man like that.

Logan abandoned his crochet hook in preference of giving his laptop his full attention. They sent back and forth all manners of articles from owners tips to scientific studies. Taking in data, and weaving it into a usable care plan, evaluating all with a vets knowledge and a therapist’s experience.

They danced between information together, shifting through articles. It was so much more fun with Patton (metaphorically) by his side.

Logie Bearry Jam: Perhaps their enclosure can be moved to the vet’s office so that they can get used to humans coming and going, and so we can keep a close eye on them.

Pattoncakes: the vets office is pretty busy! Maybe once they settle a bit more. But right now i think that would be a bit scary

Pattoncakes: maybe the small animal room?

Logie Bearry Jam: It is the correct conditions in there for them.

Pattoncakes: aww and they can watch the bunnies playing!

Pattoncakes: I always find them fun to watch when i am sad

Logie Bearry Jam: Watching the rabbits would also be restful enrichment.

A gif of a happy rabbit running wildly around a room appeared on his screen, before swiftly being superseded by a barrage of twitching noses, floppy ears and bouncing bunnies.

Pattoncakes:  i also like taking my laptop in sometimes for paperwork, so i can pop in for a lil lovin socialisation too

He smiled at the mental image of Patton camped out on the floor of the rabbit room, trying to focus on work while Ted Bunndey ate his notebooks. Logan sincerely doubted much work would be completed. But Patton did indeed make for the very finest socialisation.

Pattoncakes: aaaw there are so many cute toys on the market for Avian humanoids!

Pattoncakes: so expensive though

Pattoncakes: look at this!

He sent a photograph of some over-the-top prince outfit aimed at owners with more money than sense.

Pattoncakes: Princey would look so cute in this!

Pattoncakes: I don’t suppose it is the kind of thing the avians would actually enjoy though *a sticker with a confused looking pink bear*

Logie Bearry Jam: It is doubtful, though some do enjoy it the way many children enjoy imitating their parents. I believe it to be unsanitary at this stage in their recovery, but if they do express a wish to wear garments it is not unhealthy to do so.

Pattoncakes: you could crochet them matching jumpers!  ;P

Logan and Patton wove a plan together. A shining roadmap, flexible but comprehensive. Something that accounted for their physical recovery and mental capabilities. Rules on how to treat them to build trust, further the concept that they were safe. Ways to let them confirm that they would not be touched without permission, that play did not warrant punishment, that there would always be food.

Their web of plans completed, Logan picked up his crochet hook and resumed working on his blanket, the weight gone from his chest. Their conversation pooled into its regular comfortable flow, chatting back and forth about their respective days at work and discussion of mundane things. It was with regret Logan initiated his goodnight messages and deployed his customary goodnight sticker of a sleepy light blue bear with glasses that reminded him a bit of Patton. Patton sent his customary bombardment of illogical stickers and gif which tonight included a pair of canaries hopping around a bowl of water, a dragon with hearts for eyes, and a psychedelic goat.

-88888-

In the recovery room of the Animal shelter’s vet clinic, Virgil sat holding a peanut.

The room was almost dark now, the only light the soft glow of a nightlight in the corner that had been left on for them..

He had eaten 6 peanuts, several spinach leaves, and 4 ½ cubes of glorious chicken.

Roman was asleep behind him, his own hunger sated. Opposite them, a pair of rabbits munched hay. The mewling cat had been returned to her owners. It was quiet in the vets now.

Cautiously, he touched his stomach over the bandages. It gurgled happily beneath his fingers.

Virgil smiled.

===

Aaaand the emojis have not worked for the second half of the fic. Oh well, imagine Patton as the emoji fiend he is.

masterlist    next chapter

But Virgil eats a peanut! Yay XD This chapter is a lil shippy for you <3 Patton's texting is inspired by my girlfriend who is just the cutest emoji-wielding dork to walk the world. And while the fic will not focus much on romance, the carers deserve some soft times.