#I’m sorry this took a little while I have been FOAMING to finish this since I got the bug on my acct

[collectivecloseness]

Can you do Steve x Eddie x Robin x reader relationship hc, please 🙏🏽

I love your writing also, you’re very talented💕

Tysm! And yes I love these three together!!!

Those three are best friends, and platonic soulmates, and when they meet you, boy does everything change.

You have such a stable relationship with these three. It’s very healthy, and you all also share very amicably. It’s just a house full of love, a real family, something you all needed.

Those three are all very loving, and all they can hope for is your love back. It’s really all they need. And they’re very grateful that it’s something they get every day.

You all live in Steve’s house together. And even though there’s plenty of rooms, lots of personal space, most nights, you four all fall asleep in a massive bed together. Every bedroom has a bed big enough for all four of you. But realistically it could be for three, even with Robin’s star fishing, and Eddie’s habit of stealing the blankets, you all sleep very close with each other anyways. Not only do you all feel safer that way, but it’s just become routine for you all now, in your loving home. For everyone to cuddle up together at night. Even though nightmares have decreased since, it also makes it easier for you all to be there when someone does have a nightmare, or be able to tell one if your love’s is, and soothe them in sleep until they’re peacefully snoring again.

The three all have their own relationships with each other, as well as you, and altogether, and bounce off of each other in different ways.

Robin and Steve have their own close friendship, it really was just like the universe created them to be best friends. Which also means they’re comfortable enough to live in a home together and be themselves. Which includes Robin jumping over the back of the sofa and killing Steve’s knees when she lands, to say hello to you both. And Steve lifting Robin over his shoulder to lock her out of his bedroom because he was just suaving you up in his charmingly dorky way. And the two bickering over who gets you have your chest in their mouth first, until six minutes later when you just shove both their heads towards your chest, so their mouths can do something else while you freeze half naked.

But they are very close, and love that they live together now. Having their best friend who they trust and can be themselves with so completely, but is also such a light in their life and someone they love spending every evening having fun with, makes Robin and Steve the happiest they’ve ever been. As well as all four of you. Everyone’s so close, and you’ll walk into a room to see any mixture of them hugging on the couch. Sometimes Robin and Steve are so squished into a corner of the sofa together, since personal space just isn’t really a thing with them, so you’ll go and just sit on top of their mess of limbs, just to add to the pile. Sometimes something happens, and Robin or Steve might go to each other first, for any multitude of reasons, and cry to their best friend in the entire world and the one underneath them, and get that comfort they never got till they knew each other, or you and Eddie.

Their friendship only strengthens being with you two, and they didn’t even know that could be possible. Now, they just can never be separated. They really are like shelter animals that bond as a pair. You’ll hardly ever see one without the other for long, and while they can have their own personal time, and aren’t unhealthily codependent, they’ll miss their best friend :(

And they both conspire against Eddie in only funny ways, which Eddie always gets them back for, even with being up against the dynamic duo. They mostly create mischief directed at Eddie, since he seems to think he’s the king of that here. Or they work together to surprise you. They’ll even work together against Eddie, with a secret fistbump hand shake as they agree on their plans.

Steve once sat his full weight on Eddie, who only smiled surprised at the fact, but then Robin gets to sit on your lap and fully make out with you, as as much as Eddie scrambles, Steve made himself firm the second he sat, smirking as Eddie whacks at him “man, get off!” while Robin steals you away. Once you two got upstairs, Robin and Steve sharing a thumbs up while you giggled at them, and apologetically at poor Eddie, Steve responded with a ‘calming’ pat to Eddie “Nah man, I think Robin’s the one ‘getting them off’.” To which he got more grunts of ‘shut up!’ and ‘lemme go asshat!’ off of his dear beloved life partner.

Or Robin distracts Eddie with a good chat for Steve. Maybe about music, or giving Eddie a treat, beckoning Eddie from a corner and asking if he wants some ice cream from the extra garage freezer, making Eddie feel like the sneaky one, or asking him about one of his hyperfixations, knowing Eddie’s going into a thirty minute rant about the new dnd guide, and she genuinely keeps up the conversation as Eddie excitedly goes on, or she even distracts him with something shiny. And then Eddie can hear Steve’s car leaving and he knows what’s up, or he can hear the groans and squeaking two whole floors above the garage, and he knows he’s been bamboozled! All three respect each other’s grind though.

One time got Eddie not enjoying being on the receiving end of their plans, as they told Eddie you only had two of most things, a hand to hold, a leg to sit on, an ear to nibble on, while they were doing all of that, and teasingly shooing Eddie off. Eddie didn’t exactly tantrum when he was subby, but that night was quite different; and also backfired on the pair since they had to apologise and soothe Eddie, while you spent much more attention on him. Still, they deserved it. And Eddie left to get your favourite breakfast early the next morning, meaning the two could pick off their scheme where it started, and wake you up by continuing.

They still work at family video together as well, so normally they come home together, and both will have picked little treats for you, and Eddie, from the shops, or come back with take out they’d both decided on. They love getting the same shifts, and Steve likes organising the schedule for the household, making it easier to plan date nights if Eddie picks you up and then gets Steve and Robin from the same place. Or all making sure to get the next Sunday off, to go drive a few hours down to the beach together.

You didn’t say if Eddie and Steve were platonic or romantic in this poly, so I’ve tried to keep it open to interpretation if that’s okay! But they get along great in this poly too. Sometimes Eddie will come and squeeze your waist romantically, swaying with you as he comes to kiss your neck. But Steve was already flirting with you, so he just gives Eddie a “Hey!” To which Eddie apologises, before smacking Steve’s ass so he doesn’t feel left out. Eddie doesn’t even have to be interrupting you and Steve for him to sneak in and smack his lips on Steve’s cheek before running off using Steve’s car he’s not insured for, again, probably taking you for a quick trip with him.

Eddie also gives Stevie a whistle whenever the shirt comes off. Whether it’s with you in the bedroom, Steve cleaning up his pool for you four to use, or even Steve just existing in a room in his house, and Eddie’s only just noticed. Eddie will also lightly ‘prank’ Steve, but sometimes these pranks are actually rises to distract him from what Eddie’s really doing, which is usually stealing you away, but Steve is always so busy with Eddie’s initial trouble, so watch out.

Eddie and Steve are constantly teasing each other, but it’s never gone too far, they’re always pushing each other’s shoulders and smiling each and every time. Sometimes Steve goes into mom mode untangling Eddie, and his actions, but they both know it doesn’t mean they love the other any less.

And Steve and Eddie look out for you and Robin, like you all do for each other of course. No one walks home alone at night, not one of you. But one of your favourite sights of the three of them was Steve teaching Eddie his example, as Robin was so excited, and both men flexing their arms so they could swing Robin between themselves. It was such an endearingly funny moment, just some innocent fun, with no one around to judge, or ever say anything any of you think of is weird, or not mature or cool, or do anything to destroy the freedoms of being yourselves, not in your new home.

Steve has learnt how to carry two people, on a shoulder each, to sort his family out. So on nights you guys have been drinking, and either Steve decides you’ll find it more fun to be lifted since you can’t walk great, or you’ve excitedly asked Steve to do so (and maybe Eddie has joined your begging too) Steve’s found it’s easier to throw both you and Eddie over a shoulder each, and call for Robin, because she’s the most likely to follow right behind Steve at seeing you two being pulled upstairs.

Steve really loves his family too. He’s always going out of his way to make sure the relationship’s great, to keep everyone happy. He’s already got three holidays planned, that you guys have all scoured ideas over together, spending countless nights picking out places that look amazing, and deciding what seasons work best for which location. He’s always coming home thinking about you guys, as well as everyone else he cares about, but bringing home stuff to show he was thinking about you all day, and he loves you all, as well as expressing it vocally which he’s so good at now. Hugging you all and feeling so relieved back at home, with you all in his arms, and smiling so happily back. In such a great relationship.

And yeah I have a whole post about Robin and Eddie x reader, but also you three all work so hard to make sure Steve isn’t working too hard. He needs his family to help remind him of that sometimes. And you three all look after him, just as much as he does everyone else. Sometimes it does take all three of you, someone to keep Steve sat in bed, someone to do the chores like cleaning and getting lunch (or if Steve’s sick and trying to move, getting him medicine as well), and someone to make sure Steve’s errands for the day so he doenst feel like he’s disappointed anyone or ruined his responsibilities, like driving the kids somewhere, is all taken care of. Taken care of like you three do with Steve. Who knows that because all three of you are set on his tasks, tasks just Steve was planning on handling alone, he can try and relax, and let himself be himself. Let himself be comforted by his family.

Eddie and Robin also plan things without Steve’s knowledge too, but all four of you do that occasionally. They can be a mischievous pair, not held down by Steve’s thinking things through. They have stolen you from him before, although usually for less time, since being the only one left behind isn’t something any of your lovers do to anyone, for long at all, just in case. Unless they think Steve needs to be taught a lesson, by them having their fun ways.

One time though, Steve wanted everyone to do a full day of spring cleaning, together as a house. Something the whole week you, Eddie, and Robin had promised Steve you would not be doing, so don’t even ask. Steve meant for the entire day to be taken up by household chores. The house wasn’t even in complete disarray, but Steve had clapped his hands and suggested you all could get to work on some projects in the house not done yet, like painting the fence. Eddie had grabbed yours and Robin’s hands on the morning of, smiling with his tongue out at Steve, promising he’d come back with ice cream for King Harrington too, and maybe once he’d gotten that stick out his ass and decided to join them for fun, and at least compromise on just cleaning for a little while today, DIY tomorrow or something, Eddie could also steal Steve away for some fun, altogether as a family.

Although you had begged Eddie to drive back only half an hour later, instead of eating your ice cream in the parlour, because you just felt like something was wrong, and when you got back to Steve doing all the tasks alone, the entire living room looking already fully finished, carrying really heavy objects around the house, and you swore you heard him sniffling, your faces all dropped. And the ice cream was put in the freezer, while Robin tentatively made sure Steve wasn’t in a bad mood with any of you and wouldn’t shout, so you could leap forward and bring Steve onto your lap, for some apology cuddles, that he’d be getting from everybody. There never were really any serious arguments. Just teasing bickering, and then talks that needed to be had!

Also, with Robin, they’ll leave you and Robin alone if the bedroom’s a rockin’, although they have been known to interrupt for the bit. Eddie making large scary sounds behind the door, with a satisfied smirk when you both scream, or Steve banging on the door when he knows you two have finished to suggest you two kids better not be shaming God’s eyes in his own home. Occasionally, when you and Robin have been really quiet for a while, one will stretch their arm in, very obviously hiding their eyes under their hands so they are blind to any sins (just in case someone’s naked and doesn’t want to be seen right then) to hand you both water bottles, and make sure no one’s dead in there, since it sounded like an earthquake about twenty minutes ago and it’s been radio silence since.

But that doesn’t mean Steve Eddie and Robin aren’t always separated in the bedroom when it comes to you. They just know sometimes people want time alone together! Steve and Eddie will do the same for the other, and Robin for them. Those three happily share you together. Obviously Steve and Eddie don’t do anything with Robin specifically, you guys all know each other’s okay’s and no thank you’s very well! But all four of you in the bedroom together, or any mixture, e.g. you Steve and Robin, you Steve and Eddie, you Robin and Eddie, happens too!

And oh... all three of them love working on you together. Having sessions all devoted to you, or rather, where all three fully devote themselves to you. The three all worshipping you... or playing with you. You being their good little girl/sub, under the three of them, who are working together on you, makes them all glow. They love how overwhelmed with love you look. Not sure where to look sometimes. Just looking up at them, so doe eyed, so beautiful, so awed. Knowing all three of your partners are working on you because they love you. And your eyes constantly moving around because someone else is doing something amazing to another part of your body and it’s so much. Those are some of their favourite times in the bedroom with you.

[btsgotjams27]

the nanny diaries ~ jjk

summary: you're ready to relax with a quiet valentine's night in until your son has different plans for you and jungkook.

✨ title: the nanny diaries (drabble series) | the wish list ✨ pairing: jungkook x single mom!reader ✨ word count: 2.0k |✨ genre: fluff, cute |✨ rating: g ✨ warnings: a sassy 4yo (nothing new here), ha joon gets upset, reader gets caught by jk in an oversized pajama shirt with no bottoms ✨ a/n: idk where this drabble came from but here it is!

[ DRABBLES MASTERLIST ]

You stayed up the night before hand-crafting twenty-five Valentine’s Day cards. Ha Joon’s teacher was adamant about each card being ‘filled with love from the heart.’ You weren’t going to argue because you had been lacking in your volunteer hours, and this was your way of making up for it. The dinner table was covered with glitter, foam rainbows, and googly eyes (Ha Joon’s choice, not yours). Your child really was his own person, and it was fun to see him come into that.

In the morning, Ha Joon shuffled into your room, grabbed a hold of your duvet, and pulled it off you, causing you to groan at the cold air hitting your bare legs.

“Mommy–I can’t find my pink hat.”

“Mm. Pink hat? The Kirby one?” you asked, your opened eyes still half asleep. Ha Joon shook you by the shoulders, trying to get you up. “Okay, okay. I’m up. I’m getting up.”

You propped yourself up, narrowing your eyes at the little man before you. “Ha Joon-ah, did you get dressed by yourself?” He wore a pair of black sweatpants, a white t-shirt, and a green shacket. You had to give to the kid; he had style.

“Mommy!”

“Yes, baby. What?”

“My hat!”

“Oh, right.” You shook your head. Kirby hat, Kirby hat. Where could it be? Where had you seen it last? “Oh! I know where it is!” You quickly stood, running into the living room.

“Morning–”

You yelped, jolting your body back from the familiar voice, then you realized you were only wearing a pajama shirt, undies, and fuzzy socks. “Ah–Jeez,” you cleared your throat. “Morning, Jungkook. I wasn’t expecting you so early.” You flashed a smile, trying to be nonchalant while covering up your chest. February in Seoul was freezing, but you didn’t like going to bed with pants on, so this was your normal getup. Maybe it was time to start thinking of a new set of sleepwear.

“Cute…” he gave you the once-over. “...jammies.” Jungkook snickered at the shirt that said, ‘let me sleep.’ “I texted, saying I was coming over since I had an early day at the gym, but I guess you hadn’t seen the message yet.”

“Sorry, yes. I just woke up because I was up late last night finishing up Ha Joon’s Valentine’s cards.”

Jungkook had become accustomed to you and Ha Joon, making himself at home when he was over. He slurped the last of his cereal before speaking, “They look great, by the way. You have a real knack for glitter and googly eyes.”

You rolled your eyes because he was just being nice. You sucked at anything crafty. While other moms got to stay home and learn new hobbies, you worked to provide for yourself and Ha Joon. Once you tried crocheting, and it was bad all around because you had such a hard time following the patterns, so you gave up, but gluing and glitter—piece of cake, or so you thought.

You beamed a thin smile and blinked at him. “We haven’t known each other for that long, but I think I know when you’re lying.”

Jungkook laughed. “I’m not lying,” he said as he stood, heading over to the kitchen sink and setting down his bowl. “It’s cute, and I’m sure all the kids in his class will love it.”

That Jeon Jungkook was a sweet talker, alright, but you knew what looked good and what didn’t.

“Mommy,” Ha Joon walked in on the conversation, “did you find it?”

Ah, right, that’s what you were doing before Jungkook took you by surprise. You looked around the room, searching for the neon pink hat. “Found it!” you exclaimed, running over to the basket of toys in the corner. You picked it up, waving it in your hand.

Ha Joon squealed in excitement, running toward you. “I have my something pink for Valentine’s Day. What about you, mommy? You’re going to wear pink, right?”

Did you even own anything in the color pink? You were mentally going through your closet. “I have a red dress. Can I wear that?” You looked at Jungkook and realized he was wearing a pink denim overshirt, white tee, and pink cargo pants. You guessed Ha Joon made sure he got the Valentine’s Day dress code memo.

Ha Joon shrugged. “I’ll let you wear red.”

You scoffed. “Let me?”

“Yes, mommy!” he uttered, placing the hat on his head. “Jungkookie and I have to go to school now,” he huffed, grabbing his backpack and Jungkook’s hand.

Jungkook mouthed, ‘I’ll see you later,’ as he was being dragged away by the four-year-old.

It was nearly time for Ha Joon and Jungkook to return from school. You figured you’d order in dinner, have some dessert, give Ha Joon and bath, put him to bed, then you could wind down with some red wine. It was the perfect plan to end Valentine’s Day.

That is until Ha Joon handed you a piece of paper in his cute little handwriting titled, ‘Wish List.’ You figured Jungkook helped him with the spelling unless your child was a genius.

“What’s this, baby?”

“It’s my wish list. It’s what I want to do for Valentine’s Day.” Ha Joon looked at Jungkook, grabbing him by the hand and making him sit at the dinner table.

Jungkook grinned. “Little man knows how to plan a date.”

You glanced over the list: dinner, dessert, painting, and hide and seek. “Oh, baby. This is so sweet. I love this list. What should we get for dinner?”

“No, mommy. I’m going to cook.”

“You are?” You raised an eyebrow and crossed your arms at your peculiar child. “What are you going to cook?”

“It’s a surprise for you and Jungkookie.”

You turned to Jungkook. “Oh, my love. What if Jungkook has plans? What if he’s going out tonight with someone special?”

Ha Joon shook his head. “He’s not doing anything. I already asked, and he said yes. Right, Jungkookie? You’ll stay?”

“Jungkook, if you have things to do, please, by all means, don’t feel obligated to stay. I’m sure you have better things to do than spend Valentine’s Day with us.”

He beamed a grin at Ha Joon, ruffling his hair. “Nah–I promised little man I’d stay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

You and Jungkook put on the biggest fake smiles as you stared at one another across the table. The two of you watched Ha Joon prepare dinner and of course, he wouldn’t let anyone help him. You cringed when he dropped a piece of chocolate into the milk, swirling it around with a spoon. You didn’t have the heart to tell him you normally use chocolate syrup to make his favorite drink. But Ha Joon was so proud as he set down the bowls of Mac and cheese and chocolate milk.

“Bon appetit,” he announced with the biggest grin you’d seen. He took a bow before grabbing his usual bowl and a plastic cup of chocolate milk.

“Joon-ah.”

“Yes, mommy?”

“Where are you going? Aren’t you going to eat with us?”

“I’m going to eat in my room. This dinner is for you and Jungkook.”

With your mouth agape, you couldn’t believe that you were tricked by your own four-year-old. You tucked your hair behind your ear, looking down at the table before peering up at Jungkook. “Is this—a date?”

Jungkook had a closed-lip smile. “Looks like it.”

You were mortified and weren’t sure what to do at this point. “I’m so sorry about all of this. I have no idea what has gotten into him. Again, please feel free to leave. I’m definitely not paying you enough for doing stuff like this.”

Jungkook laughed. “You know I love spending time with you guys, right? This is better than sitting at home by myself, which is what I would’ve been doing anyway.”

It was hard to believe that someone who looked like Jungkook didn’t have any kind of plans for Valentine’s or maybe he just didn’t like the corporate made holiday. Either way, you felt bad for him hanging out with the two of you while he wasn’t on the clock.

“Well, thanks for um, indulging in Ha Joon’s shenanigans.”

“I’m always a willing participant.”

After dinner, came dessert which was popsicles, then painting. You thoroughly enjoyed painting because the thought was very cute and you just loved how Ha Joon’s mind worked. He made everyone paint each other how they saw the other person.

Ha Joon sneaked a glance at Jungkook’s painting. “Hey—you’re cheating.”

Jungkook moved the painting away from him. “I’m not cheating.”

“Yeah! You drew me and mommy. You were only supposed to paint mommy.”

He sighs. “Okay—I’m sorry I cheated but I wanted to paint both of you.”

“I wanna see.”

Jungkook turned his painting back toward you. It was a simple portrait of you and Ha Joon. He was sitting in your lap as your chin rested on top of his head, the two of you peering off to the side. Was there anything Jungkook wasn’t good at?

“It’s—” You were speechless. “Beautiful, Jungkook. Thank you.”

He handed the painting to you, so you could further explore the details of it.

“Okay, now that we are done with painting. It’s time for hide and seek.”

You set the painting down, turning to Ha Joon. “Baby, it’s getting late. How about we play hide and seek another time, hmm? I still have to give you a bath.”

“But mommy—” he pouted, crossing his arms as he turned away from you.

“Ha Joon-ah, we can play next time I come to watch you, okay? We gotta get you off to bed soon, bud.”

He stood up, stomping his way to his room, slamming the door behind him. Your eyes widened at how upset he was. If there was more time in the day, then of course you’d play but you were sure that Jungkook wanted to get home as well.

“Joon-ah!”

Jungkook reached for your arm. “Hey—I got this.”

You were used to being the bad guy, but you were also thankful Jungkook was around to ease the tension. You watched him head to Ha Joon’s room. There were nothing but mere whispers and then an anguished cry from Ha Joon.

Immediately, you ran into the room. Jungkook stood to give the two of you some space to talk. You kneeled next to Ha Joon’s bed. His head was buried in between his forearms which were resting on his knees.

“Sweetheart, what if I take the day off tomorrow and we can play hide and seek all day?”

Ha Joon’s teary, glazed eyes looked up at you. “Really?”

You hummed and smiled. The innocence this little person carried made your heart melt. It didn’t take much for him to be happy, and you had an inkling feeling about why he had been so upset. You had been working late hours again and didn’t have time to give him. Maybe that’s why he suggested his wish list tonight.

Ha Joon finally came to an agreement with you before you set him off to brush his teeth and get ready for bed. His bath will just wait until tomorrow.

You ruffled his hair when he came running back to his room. He yelled 'good night,' to Jungkook before he turned off the light.

Jungkook was always a great sport with Ha Joon. You weren't sure how you got so lucky with such a great nanny like him. Regardless, you were glad he was in your life.

He stood when he saw you approaching, and pocketed his phone into his pink pants. "Everything okay?" You nodded. "Good," the corners of his mouth curved up. "I should get going." He walked to the entryway, slipping his shoes on.

"Jungkook?" He hummed while looking up. "Thanks for indulging in Ha Joon's little wish list."

He laughed. "I'm happy to make dreams come true for little man," he said, opening the door.

You held the door, watching him leave, but he stopped and returned. "Did you forget something?"

"Happy Valentine's Day."

"Happy Valentine's Day," you repeated.

"You look nice in red. You should wear it more often."

You grinned, shaking your head. "Goodnight Jungkook."

[declanfs]

December 18, 2023

Potty training!! You started to show an interest on Thursday and you have been doing really well ever since. I have to keep reminding myself that this a really big skill and that you are not going to learn it all at once and just be done because sometimes you refuse to sit on the potty out of stubbornness and then have an accident. You do NOT want candy or prizes or bargains to pee on the potty either, you just want to stop being harrassed haha. Which is probably better in the long run, you little silly goose, you.

Anyway, some funny moments from the last 5 days:

Day 1: You said your diaper was too itchy and scratchy when you first woke up, so I asked if you just wanted to wear underwear instead and go pee in the potty. You were like.. sure. Totally nonchalant and just ready in your own time. You do you, little dude.

Later that morning, i tried to get you to sit on the potty after waking up but you did not want to at all. SO I put you in your new undies, so cute, and went to the bathroom to wash my face and take my medicine and when I came back out, you said, “mama, i peed on the floor because this diaper has holes in it!!” You were so affronted and shocked and like scoffing at the audacity of these holes. You clever little baby. So then I got a new pair of underwear and before you let me put them on you, you were scrutinizing and investigating them to see if you could see the holes that had betrayed you.

After that, you would have a little accident and then stop so you could finish on the potty most of the time. There have definitely been a few times where you just refused to sit on the potty and too much time passed and you just had so much pee that you couldn’t stop it once it started. But, it’s all a part of the learning process and on day 5, you have been much more agreeable and only had a slight accident today because we ended up going to the park and stayed out for so long and it was my fault for not asking you if you wanted to try peeing before you had an accident.

You’ve also been taking naps with underwear on because magically mystically mysteriously, you do not pee while you are asleep. I’m pretty sure you could wear underwear overnight and you would be fine but you are just so resistance to sitting on the potty first thing in the morning and its too stressful for everyone involved to put that kind of pressure on us. This morning you had a dry pull up when you woke up and i made you sit on the potty against your will and you would not pee and i will not do that again, I’m sorry.

BUT, the funny thing that happened today, that reminded me i needed to document this huge step in your growth and development:

I brought your potty into your room before nap so you could pee next to the mushroom and the bunny (wall art), and there was still a little pee in the potty from when we got back from the park. You went to sit on the potty but misjudged the distance or something and accidentally put your hand inside the potty and got pee on your hand. You HATE getting your hands dirty unexpectedly so you were kind of waving your hand around while I reached for the wipes in the nightstand and in the 2 seconds it took me to grab them and turn back around, you had sat on your potty in a way that made it tip over and separate into all its pieces - base, potty, seat, bowl - spilling the remaining pee on the floor. Luckily, we both found this extremely funny and cleaned it up pretty quickly, but you were like “my potty fell apart!” But you were clearly amused. Good times.

Reading little sap, a book about a little trees journey to becoming a mother tree and the underground network of forests.

Our new living room rug - with a foam pad underneath for playing and stretching! I’m so excited.

The little preschool park behind courtland elementary. You could play here for HOURS and wanted to the last time we went. Which is great, but it was time for lunch and a nap, so we will def go back over Christmas break when all the kids are not using it. You pushed 2/3 of those big circular things, Carried all three little green balance beam things in one load, and found and carried over all the hula hoops. I love how you just see something and know exactly what you want to do with it.

Deadlift day, my little helper. Before you were born, I would see other women working out with their kids. their kids interrupting them every 5 seconds, climbing all over them, standing right in the way, and I would feel so frustrated on their behalf. But now that I have you and you are my child, i understand how they did it. My workout is important and I say excuse me or gently ask you to stop climbing on me or to move, but on the days that doesn’t’ work or you need more attention, you are more important than my workout. I can give you an extra hug or a snuggle. I can play with you for 2 minutes to get 30 more minutes to finish my workout once you are reminded that I love you and see you again.

You little sweetie. I saw this experiment on instagram. It just said to lay down with your head on your toddler to see their reaction. You gave me a hug and said “mama you feel good” and then wouldn’t let me get up because you wanted to stay like this <3

[aufunnuer]

Milly took Richard to her home in the forest, the cities slowly disappear in the distance, I have to go to the cottage. There was an old man sitting outside rocking back-and-forth on the rocking chair. Richard looked confused, just a random old man sitting near her house? It must her father. Milly let him inside while the old man was sleeping, “who was that?” “My father” she answered him, not paying in mind to why he was so confused. She sent him inside to sleep on the couch so he could get some good night rest as it was close to night.

2 hours later….

Milly woke up to a banging downstairs. She ran down and she saw Richard and her father elder kettle fighting. Richard was trying to explain why he was in the house. Poor kettle thought Richard was trying to steal from him. Milly just watched for a few seconds before she decided to intervene. She moved her father away from Richard explaining to him that Richard was a guest. Elder kettle gave her the look. “No no it’s not like that father!” She try to explain, but kettle just had a stupid grin on his face while walking upstairs. “I’m so sorry about that. He’s a little crazy when he wakes up” “no no it’s fine” he answered back. To him and his mind it wasn’t fine He thought he just stepped into a house with a bunch of lunatics. And there was a weird scenery to the house. It was like an old antique shop of creepy things you wanna keep in your house. Especially the Doll on the piano that stared at him. He feel like that dog was alive screaming for help in her own way. “Would you like me to make some dinner?” Milly asked now that he thinks about it, her voice was very light, and sounded like she was awkward, but nervous, but knew what she was talking about at the same time. “Oh! Uh sure I wouldn’t mind” he answered politely.

How was he going to understand that he’s now living in a house with a bunch of mad people. Milly went into the kitchen making some chicken noodle soup, she didn’t exactly know what he liked and chicken noodle should be good for now. Now that she thinks about her home, she hated it. She hated the way was old. She hated the floorboards creaking every time you stepped on it. But she had to take care of her father of her, since her mother died tragically. If she moved out now, she will be all alone in the forest. Which is not ideal for a man his age. Now that she thinks about it, she doesn’t even know how old her father is. But she went back to making some classic homemade chicken noodle soup. She hated the can one she found it will repulsive. As Richard waited her mind started to wonder. Is this God’s way of sending her sign? Maybe Richard with her husband? But who won want to get knocked out by some homeless man the middle of the street? Not her. But now that she looked at him, he didn’t look that bad. The best part about his mug like features was that he is teal… more like sea foam, green teal. He looked funky and weird, but he was easy to look at on the eyes. She finished making the chicken noodle soup and served it. Without a second thought, Richard ate it. She looked down at him with pity. She wondered how long it’s been since he had a proper meal. Richard didn’t notice her looking down on him. He was too busy tearing up chicken noodle soup, his favorite.

(UGH IM SO SRRY THAT ITS SHORT SCHOOL IS STARTING SOON FOR ME SO MAYBE ILL EDIT THIS LATER ON!!)

[bitchassbucky]

Ｍｅ/Ｙｏｕ

📎Word Count: 1.9k

📎Warning/s: smut! MINORS DNI. toxic relationship dynamics <3 facefucking, sloppy blowjob, facial (not the skincare one), spitting in mouth, biting?, name calling, cheating/affair (bucky cheats), mean!bucky ig, toxic & manipulative!reader (she coerces bucky into cheating... so), alcohol mention, very very very brief sam x reader was mentioned

📎A/N: this was supposed to be a quick drabble but the fic practically wrote itself sooooooo @babyboibucky @sarge-barnes-sir @borikenlove this one’s for my hoes 💛✨

📎reblogs & comments are always welcomed!

📎Masterlist || Ask || AFTERDARK

The stage lit up as the band finished with a flourish. A roar of cheers and applause vibrates through the entire room, breaking the sweaty and the smoky atmosphere of the bar.

Patrons milled around with their drinks in hand. Drunk people leaning over walls and stools, waiting for their friends to come find them.

Your black-rimmed eyes scanned the room for a viable option. You slowly gaze upon the sea of bar-goers, picking out the best of the bunch.

The girl in a pleated skirt? Still giggling with her friends.

What about the man who’s been eye-fucking you since you got here? Too desperate.

There’s someone leaning over at the edge of the room, but they’re too tall for your liking.

You finished your drink with a sharp gulp, already walking towards the bar for a refill when someone caught your eye.

He looked like a sore thumb sticking out of the crowd. His hair was cropped short, a bit frazzled. A fair shade of stubble showered his sharp jaw, lining over his pink lips.

A smirk played on your painted lips, signaling the bartender for two drinks.

“Hey Sam,” you practically purred. A handsome man tending the bar leans closer to you, bringing forth a couple of shot glasses.

“It’s on the house,” Sam said, sliding a neat square of napkins over your side before placing the drink.

You tilt your head that way and smiled in lieu of thanking. A clink—half a second later, you put the empty glass facing downwards.

“Who’s the new guy?” A genuine question. The subject of the conversation sits patiently behind you, checking his phone periodically.

“A friend,” Sam carefully approaches your question, “he’s dating another friend of mine.” Sam already knows what your game is and how... unstoppable you are, for the lack of a better word.

“Well, that didn’t stop us before, did it?”

Looking over your shoulder, you meet his gaze, beckoning him to join you and Sam by the bar.

“Hey man, what can I get ‘ya?” Sam asked his friend, laying another napkin on his end.

“Just a beer, thanks.” He’s short with words. His steely eyes darting everywhere but you.

“What’s your name?” Now you’re scooting closer, even playing up a stumble when the man behind you roared a boisterous laughter.

He then looks at you, finally, albeit hesitant, “I’m Bucky—are you okay?”

You let a small giggle out, playing coy, “Yes, Bucky, I’m okay.” You stick your hand out, a couple of silver and tungsten rings adorning your fingers.

“Nice to meet you...” Bucky prompted, his large hand engulfing yours.

“Sam’s...friend.”

“Right,” he said, letting go of your hand after a firm shake, “‘m just waiting for my girlfriend.”

Sam already moved away from your area, serving a group of girls by the far end of the bar.

“He always does that,” you pointed out. A shared tidbit of mutual interest. Bucky was close enough to get a whiff of his musky cologne. A sliver of necklace hiding beneath his black shirt.

“Yeah, that’s how I actually met him.” It was unprovoked, what he said, but you kept the conversation going.

“You were with a group of drunk girls?” Your quip made him look at you with a playfully defeated smirk, his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. An act that made your thighs clench from under you.

“No, no. Well—he thought that I was some girl’s boyfriend and he gave me a free drink to ‘apologize.’”

You bring up your best laugh, flicking your hair off your shoulder. Exposing your jewelry-adorned neck to him. He gazed down to your chest before clearing his throat.

He was nervous, you—hell, anyone—could tell. His hands were stuffed in his pants, he fidgets by shifting his weight back and forth on his left foot.

“Are you okay?” You looked up at him through your lashes, you were already a mere half a-foot away from him.

Bucky ran his hand through his hair impatiently, checking his phone again. Still no texts. “Yeah—yeah, I’m fine. My girlfriend’s just taking too long.”

You shot Sam a look before putting your hand on Bucky’s chest, “I know a place where you could wait. It’s quieter in there, you could call her.” Your tone was hopeful—a mutual acquaintance helping out a friend.

Before he knows it, Bucky’s hand was in yours as you guide him through the crowd and into a dimly lit hallway.

The wall was decorated with posters and stickers; pictures of patrons and banned people too.

“In here.” You opened a door, flicking a light switch before fully opening the way to let Bucky through. “This is a rehearsal room, the walls are lined with foam so any noise is filtered—can’t really go in and out.”

The old couch on the back was surprisingly clean and comfy, Bucky settled there as you rummaged around the mini-fridge for another drink.

“Beer?” That wasn’t really a question as you pass him a cold can, sitting down beside him.

He huffed, deft fingers dancing over the screen as he composed a longer text, “she always does this. It’s fucking annoying.”

Like the good friend you are, you scooted over to him, laying a soft hand over his shoulder for comfort.

“Hey, it’s fine. She’s just probably held up right now,” you cooed, a sweet little thing. You take a sip of a drink as he does so.

You give his broad shoulder a brief squeeze and made a face, “you’re really tense, man.”

Comically, he relaxes, letting out a breathless chuckle that sent your core fluttering. “‘m sorry. It’s just—this is our first night out in a long while.”

You hum inquisitively, propping up an arm on the backrest, “have you guys been together long?”

A beat passes before you backtracked.

“Sorry, I haven’t been in a long relationship...” You trailed off, tucking a piece of stray hair behind your pierced ear. You tentatively took another gulp of your drink, your cheeks heating up.

“No, it’s okay. We’ve been together for like, maybe three years, or so?” Bucky looks at you. God, it’s like he’s trying to read you before curating his answers. “Been a long time too.”

“Anything adventurous happening?” You teased him, Bucky’s visibly more relaxed now.

“No, nothing adventurous.” He confessed - an unknown reaction washes over his face as he says it.

“I may or may not know a thing or two on how to make your relationship more exciting.”

“Really? Is that so?” Bucky’s voice dropped a couple of octaves, sending shivers down your spine. He leans over then, getting closer to your face until his face is merely inches away from you.

“Bucky,” you breathe out. Your hands flat against his chest.

He blinks—once, twice.

“Oh, fuck. Sorry—shit, I’m sorry. I- I shouldn’t be here. I’m gonna go—“ His whole demeanor changed. Bucky stands up, straightening his pants and shirt before looking down at you, still seated on the couch.

He was just three steps away from the door when you slot yourself between him and his way, “where do you think you’re going?”

“Outside. Outside, I’m gonna wait for my girlfriend outside.” He’s rambling, his ears are going red. A thin sheet of sweat glistening over his forehead.

Closing the gap between you and him, you lay a hand against his chest, over his heart. “Do I make you nervous?”

Bucky stammers out a broken ‘no.’

“No? Why’s your heart beating so fast, then?”

You reached up to his nape, pushing him down to your height to kiss him hard. He didn’t push you away yet, his hands are gripping your arms for purchase. His fingers digging in the flesh of your shoulders. It’s sure to be bruised come morning.

“Fuck,” Bucky breathed out as you pull away. His lips shining and swollen, “what did you do?”

“Something thrilling, really.”

Bucky didn’t know how you got on your knees, tugging his black jeans down along with his boxer briefs in a desperate manner.

“God, I knew you were packing.”

His cheeks heat up even more as you palm him, his length hot and heavy against your hand. You lean in and nipped his thigh, your sharp teeth digging into his skin.

Bucky couldn’t help himself but to hiss and slap you across the face, “don’t fucking bite me.”

He expected you to look up at him with tears in your eyes, what he wasn’t expecting is you looking up with mischief and joy glinting in your eyes as you bite him again—harder this time, “God, fuck—you slut!”

Bucky saw red and grabbed you roughly by your jaw, squeezing your mouth open, “you want me so fuckin’ bad, you’re marking me, aren’t you, huh? Such a fucking slut, look at you.”

He squeezes harder, prying your mouth open as he missed your mouth with his spit, “open your mouth—fucking open!”

You obliged, your knees scraping raw as you kneel before Bucky. You feel his spit drip down your chin, the first time he missed. The second one slid down your tongue, prompting him to forcefully tap your cheek close as you swallow.

His angry cock stood dripping with precum; prominent veins making themselves known. You scoot closer, licking his balls up to the crown of his head which earns you a grunt.

“Hurry the fuck up,” Bucky orders. He wastes no time in bunching your hair up in his fist, slapping your swollen lips and cheek with his cock. “This better than your gloss, yeah? Hmm, yeah, ‘course it is.”

Bucky squeezes your mouth again, pushing his thick cock past your lips, your warmth engulfing all of him at once. “No reflex? My god, you’ve been here before, haven’t ‘ya?”

His presumptions were proven wrong when he started to pump in and out of your mouth. You gagged and choked, your throat constricting around his head every time he hits the back. “In and out through the nose, hmm? Yeah, c’mon. You can do it, bitch.”

Once you got past your reflex and relaxing your throat, Bucky took advantage and sped up. His balls slapping your chin when he thrusts in. The neckline of your shirt wet with spit and drool as he continues to fuck your mouth like he owns it.

You hum as you feel Bucky’s cock throb in your mouth.

“Yeah, yeah—fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Another set of rough thrusts, Bucky pulls out of your mouth, leaving you gasping for air. He strokes his girth with his hand, with you licking the angry crown of his length. Ropes of cum spurt out, painting a good portion of your face milky white. You managed to swallow it, catching some in your abused mouth.

He stands tall above you, catching his breath as he tucks himself into his pants once more. “The fuck did I just do?”

“Something adventurous.” You smirk, standing up on your own, wiping your face with the inside of your shirt.

Bucky pats down his pocket for his phone, landing his gaze on the couch to look for it. He saunters over, looking for any texts from his girlfriend.

“You know, I’m doubting you even have a girlfriend,” You let out a sharp quip as you smooth your hair down, drinking the rest of your beer.

“Shut the fuck up.” Bucky retorts, stuffing his phone down his back pocket. Before strutting over a desk and scribbling something.

“What? You came on my face and I can’t say shit?”

He tosses you a piece of paper, catching it on your hand. Bucky gives you a reluctant look before turning the doorknob, leaving you alone in the room.

You unfold the paper then, ‘call me when you’re feeling adventurous’ it says, along with his phone number.

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

destiel, 2.4k, mild hurt/comfort, happy ending. for @wormstacheangel who wanted a fic with anemic!Cas <3

"Cas?"

Dean hears a flump from the direction of the bedroom right as he finishes shaving his left cheek. It takes him about five seconds from there to dashing out of the bathroom, sink hastily turned off and half of his neck still covered in white, wearing an expression of worry that doesn't quite go with the foam beard.

Cas seems to hold the same opinion because his face splits in a wide grin the moment Dean enters the room.

A grin almost distracting enough for Dean to not notice that Cas is back on the bed, and suddenly wearing a blanket.

Almost.

"Goddammit, Cas." He sighs, huffing as panic slips away to make room for exasperation. He walks up to the bed, sets about righting the blanket around Cas.

Cas lets him.

"I should've known -"

"- Dean, I forgot -"

"- you were going to ditch your meds the first night after I stop bugging you 'bout them." Dean mutters, ignoring Cas completely as he makes weak attempts at protesting when Dean tucks one corner of his blanket all the way round at the other side, effectively turning him into what he mentally likes to call a Cas-burrito.

He doesn't like to call it anything at the moment though, cause right now, it's just proof of how Cas doesn’t listen.

Friggin' ex-angel of the lord, billions of years old, with libraries worth of stories and history in his head — but taking his meds when they're supposed to be taken, he forgets.

"It wasn't on purpose." Cas insists in a small voice, and Dean shoots an annoyed look at him before stepping back, finally finished with the blanket routine.

If you could call it that.

Well, Dean does call it that.

Because it happened often enough times after Cas's return from the Empty, human as the day Dean was born, to prompt both a title, and a reason to investigate why in the first place.

And not a lot of road to cover from typing in Cas's symptoms in a search engine — headaches, spells of dizziness, fatigue and feeling cold in general (things Cas had dictated to Sam who was typing, while Dean seethed from the next chair at not having been priorly informed of most of those things that warrant being informed about) — to ending up at the conclusion of a few billion (but actually just the first four) results, just minutes after.

Cas had anemia.

(The doctor Dean took him to the very next day, and Sam's completed research on the Novaks' medical history by the time they got back, confirmed it.)

Now, as far as the Winchesters were concerned, that was practically a relief — especially since their next place to look would've been old, tired books of curses, and the meekest of those would've been several times more worrying than the awfullest case of anemia one could possibly get - and Cas's, thankfully, wasn't even that bad.

However, curses are reversible. Or at least, equally as destroyable as their curse-rs are — who, usually, tend to be pretty destroyable when it comes to Sam and Dean.

Mineral deficiencies, on the other hand, are neither.

So supplements it is, as the doctor said and then prescribed — or so it should have been anyways, except for how the love of Dean's life was a giant baby when it came to taking pills.

"Sure it wasn't." Dean rolls his eyes, continuing in his exaggerated 'Cas' voice. "You just forgot."

Cas squint-frowns at Dean with all the ferociousness of a tired, cold and anemic four-weeks-old human, and Dean perches next to him on the edge of their bed with a sigh, the exasperation wearing off too.

(If he hadn't already wrapped them up, this would've been about the time Dean would've taken Cas's hands in his own.)

"Cas," He says, softer now.

Truth be told, Dean can't imagine what it must be like to go from being a - a being, that can heal itself and everything else, to a human who gets shivery and lightheaded cause of things inside of him he can't even control.

It's got to be terrifying, and obviously awful, and Dean's proud of Cas for the way he's been handling all of it — but dammit he's supposed to do the things that make it easier.

Just like he's supposed to let Dean take care of him.

"Dean," Cas replies, looking sideways at him with most of the stubbornness melted from his expression as well. "I'm a little cold but it's okay. I'm fine." He says, like he can still tell exactly what Dean needs to hear.

What he needs Cas to be.

There's a pause and Dean looks down at his hands. He can't help his next question, it's been on his mind for some time.

"What about the first time you were human?"

Cas noticeably withdraws into himself on hearing him, and Dean feels immediately a pang of guilt. It may have gotten easier to read him since he became human, but an accidental display of emotion was still a novelty. (Being difficult to read was apparently more of a Cas trait than an angel feature.)

"What about it?"

"Shouldn't you, uh," Dean pauses. "Shouldn't you also have been anemic then?"

Cas turns away from him, slow enough that Dean knows he's not taken offense, deliberate enough that he's thinking.

He finally answers, facing the wall ten feet away instead of Dean.

"I guess I was."

"But," Dean frowns. "I thought you had no idea you had anemia until last week."

"Dean, I didn't even know there was anything wrong with me until last week." Cas returns, his tone steady. "And back when I was human for the first time, I didn't either, because I'd never known what healthy felt like before, so I had no idea if I was or wasn't it. Of course I knew in an objective sense, say, the ideal temperature of the human body, but the ordinary amount of chilly one should feel on the streets in winter, or how hard or easy falling asleep is supposed to be, I couldn't have told you."

"Oh."

"And I still wouldn't have been able to," Cas turns back to him. "Had you not been the one to point it out."

Dean scoffs.

All he'd done was ask why Cas had been shivering in the middle of the day. That was it. Honestly, how could he not have seen it sooner?

"So you just," Dean lets out, afraid of the answer. "You just thought the cold spells and the, uh," he falters. "The being tired all the time — you thought that was part of being human?"

Cas smiles wryly. "It is for a lot of people."

"But —"

"And it was, Dean, anemia or not, for a lot of the people I lived with back then."

Dean's stomach bottoms out. He knows Cas is right. Six years ago, he'd been living on the streets, living in a bus. Dean remembers him — homeless, cold, sleeping on the floor of a Gas 'N Sip in his only set of clothes, Cas. And he knows he's responsible for it — knows he deserves to be hated for it, and it messes with him everyday that Cas doesn't — but did Cas really not even know what Dean had done to him? What Dean had — and Jesus, he detests himself — made him go through?

"You really thought all of us were going through that," Dean blinks. "And none of us was saying a thing?"

Cas doesn't look away this time and Dean goes on.

"I mean, I know you put humanity on a pedestal it doesn't deserve, and you think we're all capable of things you're capable of, but Cas, I can't believe you associated being human with being cold and tired, and —" Dean scrubs his face with a hand. "Goddammit, Cas! How could I have let you go out there on your own when you — h-how did I not see it, and — and you should never have had to deal with it all alone, I should've —"

"Dean."

It's not until Cas interrupts him that he realizes he's been rambling. Ranting, really, because it's not fair that Cas only got to see the worst of humanity, and it's not fair that Cas was so used to feeling awful that he just figured everyone felt that way all the time. That Cas was all alone at a time Dean should've been there for him, should've been at his side, been there to make sure he was warm, and make sure he ate spinach and seafood and whatever the hell else is rich in iron — hell, Dean should've looked it up sooner — and Dean should've been able to tell that Cas was sick, even if Cas couldn't, because that's his job.

He hasn't felt this way in a while — this particularly familiar fear of failing Cas, and losing Cas, entwined horribly, returning to him; seeping back in through his skin, and settling on his bones like the vast sediments of guilt and loss he's been carrying for most of his life.

Cas is supposed to be okay, and Dean's supposed to make sure he is.

But so far as upto here, turns out Dean's just been failing in more ways than he'd even known.

"Dean," Cas repeats, pulling him out of his reverie with determination in his voice, and a hand on Dean's left arm, his blanket now hanging off of one shoulder.

Dean immediately reaches to make it right but Cas holds him right where he is. Physically and not-drowning-in-his-own-head wise, and he's the only one who can do that.

"You're not listening to me."

Shit, Cas had been speaking this entire time, hadn't he? "Sorry, I was -" Dean looks Cas in the face to apologize, and lets out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, cause thank god, Cas isn't that pale. "Sorry."

"It's okay." Cas smiles, and it's not lopsided anymore, it's just Cas.

(Dean wonders if he should try to mirror it.)

"I was just saying that now I know that that's not the only part of being human."

"What do you mean?"

"The pain and the suffering, Dean. That's not all." Cas says. "There's also love, and kindness, and worry of the non-lifethreatening kind that dissipates with a smile, and warmth."

Dean stares at him.

"And sure," Cas shrugs. "I knew those things before too — I've read books, I've watched you and Sam — but now I've felt them as humans do, for the very first time, so it's a different kind of knowing."

Cas takes Dean's hand in his, and Dean's the one who squeezes.

"I believe the human expression is 'knowing it in my bones'."

Dean lets out a strained laugh in spite of himself. "Dunno, man. I don't think that's exactly what that means."

"But I do know it in my bones." Cas says simply, and Dean's heart does that thing where it feels too big for his chest. How Cas could go through so much, and still be so full of kindness and good, is one of the mysteries of life Dean's never going to solve — but it doesn't stop him from falling a little bit harder every time it happens.

"You should've gotten to know it the last time too, Cas." Dean tells him, sighing again. "I'm just — I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"Well, you are now." Cas tilts his head. "And I prefer the things I'm learning this time over the last time anyway, and I believe it's you who's always taught me that the present is what matters the most. I'm just glad you're here this time."

"And I'm not going anywhere." Dean squeezes their hands tighter, and Cas's smile grows. God, he deserves the world and he keeps settling for Dean, doesn't he — and Dean hates it, and loves it, and couldn't live without it. He puts his other hand on Cas's face, gloving his cheek. Cas leans closer.

"I love you."

Dean's throat constricts. "You're too good to me."

"I think that's the point."

Dean can't help but smile, and he really can't help the tears.

"I'm okay." Cas says, once more. "Are you?"

There's only one answer, and nothing to fight this time.

Dean closes the gap.

"I love you too."

It's not their first kiss, nor is it the first time they've ever said it — but it feels more significant than anything's felt before. It's more them, too — not sickly-sweet or angry and fighting, just them, coming around to the end of a hard talk, falling into each other's arms with an ease they reserve for each other only, and sinking into each other, slow and perfectly synced, like they're made for it.

When they pull back, a moment later, Dean leans his forehead against Cas's and licks his lips. Breathes.

"There's so much more to being human," he hears himself saying. "Than you'd ever find out just living here in the bunker with us."

"Dean," it's Cas's turn to sigh. "I've already found everything I need."

Dean's cheeks heat up. "I thought it was never too late to learn."

"It isn't." Cas leans back, hands falling back to his sides from where they were wrapped around Dean's neck. "But sometimes, practising old things is more important."

Dean immediately dissolves into laughter. "Yeah, no, great going. Call me old before you go to town practising on me."

Cas ignores him save a twinkle in his eyes. "And some things, I'd like us to learn together."

Dean grins.

"And some things," Cas concludes, with a wide smile. "Aren't taught anywhere else in the world."

"Yeah?"

Cas shrugs.

"Why so?"

"Well, rumor has it the teacher's afraid of flying."

Dean freezes for a moment, silent, and then snorts — because yeah, that's funny, Ha Ha, but okay, if Cas is fit enough to make jokes, then he's fit enough to take his meds now, and Dean tells him that gleefully, resulting in Cas's grin immediately turning upside down as he tries to scoot away from Dean, except Dean's kinda expecting it so he's prepared to launch himself on the bed if he has to — and he does have to, cause Dean might love him for his heart, and his courage, and his kindness, but remember how Cas is just a baby in a trenchcoat?

Yeah.

(And that is just a regular morning in the Winchester household.)

[fanficshiddles]

Fantasy Is Better Than Reality, One Shot

An idea popped to mind... My fingers then slipped and ended up writing this. Ooops...

Summary: Tom is craving a little, so when he sees you, an adoring fan, he just can’t help himself and has to have you as his own. 

WARNINGS: Rape/Non-con, forced orgasms, forced DD/lg, forced shaving, kidnapping. 

-

Tom had been longing for something for a long time now.

But finding it was easier said than done.

He was a natural Dom, a Daddy Dom to be precise. But there was just one little problem, he didn’t have a little to call his own. And he desperately wanted one. Someone to spoil, protect and care for. And of course, to pleasure.

Trying to push the thoughts out of his mind, he decided to go for a stroll in the local park. While he was enjoying the fresh air and sun on his face, someone caught his eye from the side.

You were stunned at seeing your favourite actor in the park, you had the biggest crush on him, and was swithering about whether to go up to him or not. But when he looked over and saw you looking at him, he saw the way you stopped dead in your tracks.

He smiled softly at you, making your eyes widen but you smiled back at him. Then you decided to be brave and you continued towards him, getting more and more nervous with every step. He waited until you were near him, he was still smiling.

‘Hi… Mr Hiddleston… Sir… I’m so sorry to be bothering you. I just, I just wanted to say hi and that I’m a big fan.’ You blurted out, unable to contain yourself from shaking in a mixture of nerves and pure excitement at being in his mere presence.

He reached out and gently rubbed your upper arm, smiling warmly. ‘You’re not bothering me at all, darling. That’s very kind of you, it’s nice to meet you, please just call me Tom. What’s your name?’

You told him your name and he then took your hand and surprised you by kissing the back of it, making you even more flustered than you had been at the start.

Tom found you absolutely adorable. He wanted to just pick you up and put you in his pocket… A thought suddenly struck him. A rather naughty and dark thought.

‘Would you like to join me on my walk?’ He offered, his eyes like puppy dog eyes that you couldn’t resist, not that you’d say no anyway to Tom Hiddleston!

The two of you walked together through the park, he was really easy to talk to. He asked about you and your life, getting information about you. Before you knew it, you were walking down a quiet residential street with some really nice houses.

Tom stopped just outside one. ‘This is my place. Would you like to come in for tea? Coffee?’ He offered.

You were really surprised at his offer. And of course you wanted to say yes, but looking at your watch you didn’t want to be late home as you had work in the morning.

‘I would love to, but I have work in the morning and need to get sorted.’ You said sadly.

‘Just a quick one? As a thanks from me, to you, for all your support.’ He smiled charmingly and put his hand to your lower back, guiding you up his path.

‘Ok, I can probably manage another ten minutes.’ You giggled.

‘Excellent.’ Tom said in delight.

He unlocked the door and ushered you inside. You were so delighted to be in his home you never noticed him locking the door and hiding the key above the door, well out of your reach. He had you sit in the living room and make yourself comfy, while he went to make you both a cuppa.

When he returned promptly with some tea for you both, he sat down next to you and made some more pleasant conversation. Whilst you wanted to spend more time with him, you had work at the back of your mind so had to finish your tea rather swiftly.

‘Do you want another cup, darling?’ He asked when he noticed you were just finished.

‘No, thank you. I really should go. As much as I’d love to stay longer… Thank you so much, this has been amazing. Maybe we could meet again sometime?’ You asked, hopeful.

A weird, dark sort of look crossed Tom’s face as he put his cup down on the coffee table. ‘No, we can’t, sweetheart. Because you see, you’re not going anywhere now.’

You laughed a little nervously. ‘Uhm, what do you mean?’

‘You’re not leaving here, baby girl. You’re going to stay right where you are and be my good little girl.’ He hummed low, making something stir within you but also terrifying you too.

Standing up, you started backing away a little. ‘Ok… I don’t know if you’re just pranking me, acting… But uhm, I really do need to go, I’m sorry.’

He just looked at you as you rushed out of the room to the front door. But your stomach dropped when you found it was locked, and there was no sign of the key. Panic started to rise within you as you tried the door frantically, even though you knew it was useless since it was locked.

Tom made his way through, slowly but deliberately. ‘I told you, you’re staying here. You’re mine now... So do as Daddy says and come sit down again, let’s talk.’

You looked at Tom like he had two heads. You couldn’t believe the situation you were in. Your fight or flight instincts kicked in and you made a run past him to head for the back door. But Tom reached out and managed to capture you easily in his long arms.

‘Easy, shhh, shhh.’ He cooed as you screamed and cried in a blind panic, while trying to get out of his hold. But he was far too strong.

‘Calm down, baby. It’s alright, Daddy’s got you. There’s no need to be scared, I’m going to look after you.’ Tom said as he put a hand to the back of your head to keep you against him.

After you stopped panicking quite so badly, Tom was able to start walking towards the stairs with you. ‘Perhaps a nice bath will be a better idea, help calm you down.’

He began running the bath once you were both in the bathroom. You tried to make a move for the door, but he grabbed your wrist and stopped you in time. Then he positioned himself between you and the door. ‘Don’t be naughty. Come now, get yourself undressed so we can get you all cleaned and relaxed.’

Tom started rolling his sleeves up his forearms as he looked at you expectantly.

You backed up, wide eyed. But Tom stood up straight and looked at you with the most terrifying look. ‘I’ll bend you over my knee right here, right now, and redden your bottom if you don’t do as you’re told. Do you want that?’ He asked firmly.

‘N… No.’ You stuttered, your mouth going dry.

‘Daddy won’t ask you again. Take off your clothes.’ He demanded.

Shaking in fear, you knew you had no option. Not knowing what he might do, you did as you were told and started removing your clothes. Your hands were shaking so badly, it took longer than it should have. But Tom was a patient man, he knew you were nervous so was lenient with how long it took.

When you removed your knickers and stepped out of them, Tom looked you up and down, eating you in with his eyes. But then a disapproving look crossed his features.

‘Hmm, no this won’t do at all.’ He tsked and shook his head.

‘What?’ You gasped out.

He went to the cupboard under the sink and pulled out some shaving foam and a razor. ‘Can’t have my baby girl being all hairy down there. You’ll need to let Daddy get you tidied up.’

You were almost physically sick. You tried to cover yourself and back away, but there was nowhere to back away to. You were trapped with him in the bathroom.

‘Come on, let’s get you bathed first.’ He swooped in on you and with a little struggle, he was able to get you into the warm bath.

The water did soothe you slightly, but you soon started struggling against him again. But with another warning of a spanking, you stopped fighting against him and just sat still in the water.

Tom was utterly delighted at having a little now. He took great pleasure in washing your hair for you, then washing your body too. He noted how your nipples hardened when he washed your breasts and down between your legs. Making you far too flustered than you wanted to be.

Then was the dreaded shaving. Letting a man you barely knew shave around your private parts with a sharp razor was the pique of trust. But you didn’t trust him, at all. And you weren’t letting him do it willingly. You were just submitting, knowing the punishment if you didn’t let him would be worse.

‘There we go, all clean and tidy. Ready for Daddy.’ He hummed and then began drying you off when he helped you out of the tub.

You were still shaking, in fear. He spoke gently to you, just speaking about random nothings to you. To soothe you with his voice. If you had been there willingly, it certainly would’ve worked. He had the loveliest voice. But you didn’t want to be there, not really. So it wasn’t helping much.

‘I’m going to take care of you, little one. You will want for nothing with me.’ He hummed and kissed your shoulder softly as he dried you from behind.

You closed your eyes and tried to imagine you were elsewhere. That this wasn’t really happening, perhaps it was a dream. Or you’d read one too many fan fictions of Tom and were lost in the idea of one. Yeah, that was it, surely.

But reality hit hard when you opened your eyes to see Tom smiling down at you. He cupped your face and brushed his thumbs up against your cheeks, wiping away the tears that spilled down your face.

‘Ohhh, little one. I promise, there’s nothing to fear. I’m not going to hurt you.’ He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead. Then he slid his hands down your arms and linked his hands with yours.

‘Come on, let me show you how much fun we are going to have together.’ He purred, his tone filled with promise.

But that made you more scared as he led you out of the bathroom and through to his bedroom. You swallowed hard as he took you to his bed and had you lie down. You kept your legs closed together tightly as he climbed over the top of you, smiling widely at you.

He let himself rest on top of you, gently caressing your cheek before pressing a kiss upon your lips. You lay still and let him do it, not knowing what to do for the best. You found yourself getting lost in the kiss for a moment, as his tongue slipping into your mouth started to work wonders.

But you remembered yourself again as he started kissing his way down your body. You didn’t want this, not like this. Sure, you’d dreamed and fantasised about sleeping with Tom Hiddleston. But not unwillingly, not as his prisoner.

‘Please… don’t do this.’ You squeaked out quietly as he was down giving your breasts and nipples plenty of attention.

He ignored you, just focusing on swirling one of your hardened nubs around his tongue. Gently stroking the other one with his fingers so it wasn’t neglected. Sending sparks of pleasure down your body.

‘Mmm, such a good girl for Daddy.’ Tom hummed and made his way down further. But your legs were still tightly closed and you were very reluctant to part them. ‘Come on, baby girl. Keep being my good girl, open your legs for me. Let me taste you.’ He growled deeply.

When you didn’t move, he reached as far to the inside of your inner thigh as he could and pinched you hard. You yelped and your legs flew open. Tom then quickly settled between them and he draped your legs up over his shoulders.

‘Consequences and rewards, baby girl.’ He said before turning his attention to your now bare cunt. When you felt his warm breath against you, that was enough to catch your breath. Feeling even more sensitive down there than ever before, you were anticipating him before he even touched you.

When he finally pressed a kiss just at the top of your mound, you whimpered. You closed your eyes and bit your lip, not believing you’d just made a noise like that.

Tom chuckled and kept pressing light kisses over your lips. Then he stuck his tongue out and started licking through your folds, exploring and taking his time. The feeling was incredible, you were hyper sensitive to every movement. His stubble scratched against you, a both thrilling yet weird sensation.

He made long licks right up you, running over your clit at the end of each lick. Making your body start to react as you arched upwards into him more, small whimpers kept unwillingly escaping your lips. Tom grinned as he kept licking you, focusing more and more on your clit, for longer. He swirled around it with the tip of his tongue for a while, then would lick flatly over you every now and then.

By the time he made you cum, you had completely soaked his lips and chin. Your whole body was buzzing and alive, sensitive all over. Your thighs were clamped tight around his head and you couldn’t stop trembling in pleasure.

Tom smacked his lips together and growled as he crawled back up over you. He stroked your cheek with the back of his hand and kissed you passionately, making you taste yourself on him. You kept your hands firmly at your side, not wanting to do anything to coax him on more. Not that he needed more coaxing.

He was settled between your legs and you could feel his large bulge in his trousers pressing against you. He started grinding against you, then when he couldn’t wait any longer, he reached down and started to free himself.

‘You’re my good baby girl. Now it’s time for Daddy to claim you, to take what’s rightfully mine.’ He kissed and sucked along your neck, distracting you until you felt the heavy weight of his cock resting against your cunt.

You gulped and tried looking down, but he caught your chin and forced you to keep looking into his eyes.

‘Don’t look, baby girl. I know you’re nervous, but no need to be. Daddy will take good care of you, just relax and enjoy.’ He said softly and kissed you again, distracting you as he then pushed his cock into your warmth.

He growled into your mouth hotly as he felt your walls clenching around him hard. He pushed through into you, making your body mould to him and accept him. It took your breath away, being so filled. Your mind completely shut down as he bottomed out inside you, he felt so deep.

‘That’s it, good girl.’ He praised and took hold of your hands that were flailing around beside you, he pressed them down above your head and kept them there in his large hands. As a precaution too that you weren’t going anywhere. Not that you could anyway, since he was on top of you and now in you too.

Tom started moving his hips, slowly at first. But he was fucking you deep and with purpose. Making your toes curl, even though you didn’t particularly want to be there.

‘Ohhh yes. You feel so good, baby girl. So good around Daddy’s big cock.’ He moaned and nipped your shoulder.

Your walls fluttered around him as you had another orgasm, he felt so cocky that he made you cum on his cock. He grinned against your skin and rammed his hips against you, chasing his own release now.

He looked like a god as he moved above you, his face contorted in pure pleasure. You almost forgot you were there against your will… almost.

You pleaded him not to cum inside you when you felt him throbbing, his thrusts faltering.

‘Daddy always cums inside his baby girl.’ Tom groaned through gritted teeth as he exploded inside of you. You felt his warm cum spilling into you, making you cry at the realisation again of what had just happened.

Panting, Tom reluctantly pulled out of you and he smoothed your hair back from your face as he lay down on top of you, but he was careful not to crush you entirely with his weight.

‘Shh, shh. No need to cry, little one.’ He said softly and wiped your tears again.

‘Please, just let me go. I won’t tell anyone, just… I just want to go home.’ You pleaded, looking at him through teary eyes.

‘No, baby. No. You are home now. You’re right where you need to be, with Daddy.’ He forced another kiss on your lips and then rolled you both over onto your sides, but you were then trapped in his arms. ‘Now, what do you say for getting all those orgasms, hmm?’

You frowned, confused. ‘Wh… what? Please, just let me go.’ You tried again.

But you yelped when he suddenly spanked your ass hard with his large hand, bringing fresh tears to your eyes at the pain.

‘Try again, little one.’ He growled.

So many thoughts flitted through your mind at first. But to save your stinging ass from getting worse, you had a feeling you knew what to say.

‘Th… Thank… Thank you.’ You whispered.

‘Thank you, what?’ He asked firmly, raising an eyebrow at you.

You swallowed hard, your stomach dropping. You didn’t want to say it. But you had to.

‘Thank you… Daddy.’

[honeypiehotchner]

Looking Too Closely (Bucky x Stark!Fem!Reader) — part two

I’m backkk so sorry this took forever, my idiot/goblin brain wanted to hold onto this part for longer?? Anywho

Summary: The one in which you meet Bucky Barnes for the first time. Also the one in which you want to ram Tony Stark’s skull into the wall.

Warnings: angst, mentions of past violence, mentions of death, Tony is still pretty douchey (I know y’all don’t wanna hear this but he is a giant asshole 99% of the time)

Series Masterlist

You can’t sleep.

It doesn’t help that you haven’t had a real bed to sleep in — let alone one that has memory foam or whatever the hell that is on this mattress — for some time now. But the Tower is too quiet.

You can’t open your window and Tony must have the place basically sound-proofed because you can’t hear any of the city sounds that you’re used to. The late night traffic, the sirens, the footsteps, the voices, the fights, the snoring. You’re alone in here and it’s eating you alive.

You’re still wearing Wanda’s clothes. Pepper said she’d let you pick out some clothes today and they could be delivered. She offered to go shopping somewhere with you, but you don’t want anything fancy. You’ve never even been to a mall, not to shop, so that idea alone felt too much.

Grabbing a pillow from the bed, you move to the floor in front of the window. Laying on your stomach, you rest your elbows on the pillow, staring out at the city lights.

After some time, you give in and lay your head down, hoping it’ll bring sleep around. Luckily for you, it does.

Unluckily for you, sleeping on your stomach on the hard floor has your ribs feeling properly bruised by the time the sun rises. You roll over onto your back, letting your shoulder blades take the weight for the next couple hours.

By the time late morning rolls around, you open your eyes, feeling exhausted. Restless sleep is the only kind of sleep you know.

Dragging yourself off the floor, you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth. You’re not used to having one, but you’ll gladly use the toothbrush here. That’s one thing you missed more than the others while you were homeless.

You exit the bathroom and head out into the hall, down to the living area and kitchen. It’s quiet, so you figure everyone is gone or out.

You’re busy climbing on the counter to look in the top cabinet when you hear footsteps on the hall, but they’re sort of far away, or they sound muffled like they’re a distance away. You halt your movements for good measure of listening, and you definitely feel like someone is down the hall.

But, your stomach growls, so you go back to rummaging through the cabinet.

The person you sensed steps around the corner into the kitchen and freezes. He has no idea who you are, but you’re standing on top of the counter, and that’s when he realizes you’re standing on top of the counter.

This is around the same moment that you vaguely sense the same presence from the hall behind you, and you jump when you see someone is actually standing there.

He is next to the counter in a split second, holding his Vibranium arm out in case you fall. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Trying to get cereal, what the fuck does it look like?”

“It looked like you were about to fall on your ass.”

“Lucky me, I didn’t,” you snort, resisting the urge to kick his face. He’s at the perfect height for you to do it, too. “Who the hell are you?”

“Bucky,” he answers. “Who the hell are you?” He fires back.

“Y/N,” you reply, turning to go back to looking in the cabinet. It’s mostly random things, nothing you particularly care to eat. “Do you know where everyone is?”

Bucky leans back against the opposite counter, arms crossed over his chest. “Probably asleep. We just got back an hour ago.”

You hum. Right, Tony said a few of them were out. “Then why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Don’t want to mess up my schedule.”

“Hm.” You smell bullshit.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you huff, closing the cabinet and hopping down. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

As you’re making your way toward the hall, you’re stopped by Tony’s voice.

“Munchkin. Get back here. You and I have some things to discuss.”

You spin around. “What now?”

“What now is right,” Tony deadpans. “Come on. My office. And Barnes, go the fuck to sleep for once.”

Bucky snorts, flipping Tony off, but only you saw it. You grinned, mouthing thank you.

Bucky smiled boyishly in return.

+++

Tony conveniently waits until his office door has shut before he starts in on the questions.

“When did your mother pass away?”

“A month ago,” you reply slowly, really too exhausted to deal with this or Tony right now. “Why are you asking that?”

“Because I wanted to see if you’d continue to lie to me, and you have.”

“What are you talking about?” You gathered that he was a pain in the ass, but delusional, too? Jesus.

“She didn’t pass away a month ago. Her funeral was a month ago.”

“Okay? And? What the hell does it matter?”

“The funeral was delayed because the police think you killed her.”

Fuck. He found out. “Well I didn’t.”

Tony looks ready to scream at you. “So you knew there was a warrant out for your arrest?”

“Well, yes, but—” This time Tony does cut you off by a million cuss words, but you continue over top of him. “I thought they gave up!”

“You knew they were looking for you and you walked in here instead. I should turn you in right now. In fact, I don’t know why I haven’t called the police yet.” He’s waving his arms wildly, no doubt trying to control his anger at the absurdity of this situation.

You cross your arms over your chest. “They have no proof.”

“Clearly they have something or there wouldn’t be a warrant.”

“They don’t have shit, Tony. I wasn’t even near my house when it went up in flames, alright? I was a mile away.”

“Where? Where were you?”

“At a gas station.”

“What were you doing there?”

“Are you interrogating me?” Is he recording this? Your eyes search briefly for cameras before you remember he’s a tech genius, so his cameras are probably hidden.

“I’m just trying to get to the bottom of why you have a warrant and why you decided to waltz in here. Do you know how much trouble this could get me in?”

“I’m sure you could pay your way out of it.”

“Hey,” he snaps his fingers at you, “I’m being serious.”

“Me too,” you snap your fingers back at him, too fed up with him to care, “Mr. Billionaire.”

The two of you stare at one another, unblinking, unflinching, anger seeping through your skin. Tony has realized quickly that no matter how hard he pushes your buttons, you’ll push his right back, just as much if not more.

Maybe you are his.

“I’ll ask one more time,” Tony starts. “Did you start that fire?”

“I was too busy getting stabbed to start a fucking fire, okay?”

This has Tony reeling in shock instead of anger. “Stabbed? Are you fucking nuts? What do you mean you were getting stabbed?”

“I mean I was getting stabbed. What else do you think that means?”

Tony sighs tiredly, frustration making him clench his jaw. “Where?”

You gesture to your abdomen. “Just in a couple places.”

Tony’s eyes widen. “A couple— Alright, you know what, we can finish this later, because right now,” he points his index finger at you, “you need to get to MedBay.”

“What?”

“Yeah, that’s the thing about getting stabbed, munchkin. It can cause internal damage. And if you never went to the hospital—”

“I stitched myself up, it was fine—”

“Uh-uh, shut it,” he snaps. “Come on. Come with me.”

+++

You run into Bucky once again when you get off the elevator at MedBay. He’s talking with Steve who is checking on Natasha who is a little bruised, and all three of their heads turn when they see you dragging your feet behind Tony.

Bucky gives you a questioning look while Steve and Natasha look plain confused, both having not met you until now.

“FRIDAY,” Tony calls out. “I need a full body scan on Y/N.”

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

You roll your eyes as Tony gestures you into a room. You can still see everyone through the glass walls as you step on a small circle in the floor, presuming it’s where you need to stand for the scan.

Steve asks the million dollar question. “What’s going on?”

“Got stabbed,” you reply with a shrug, making Tony’s blood boil even faster.

Natasha snorts at your nonchalance, Steve gives Tony a baffled look, but Bucky seems weirdly concerned. “You what?”

“It was a long time ago,” you tell Bucky.

“No, it was a few months ago. And she never went to a hospital,” Tony adds, right as FRIDAY finishes the scan. “What have we got FRIDAY?”

“Evidence of internal bleeding that has since stopped, but nothing else. Everything has healed properly.”

“Well thank god for that,” Tony deadpans.

You nearly flip him off right there, but you settle on a glare. “Are you done?”

“Yes,” Tony says. “But we’re not done.”

“For fuck’s sake, I did not start the fire!”

“Oh no, I believe you there,” Tony says. “I wanna know who stabbed you.”

“Some random idiots,” you shrug, walking out of the room and past Tony, back toward Steve, Natasha, and Bucky. “Leave me the hell alone about it. Goddamn.”

Tony lets you walk this time, watching you storm off toward the elevator. Meanwhile, he has two super soldiers and a spy staring at him like they just found out his darkest secret.

“So...that’s Y/N,” Natasha comments. “She’s got fire.”

“She’s also got an attitude,” Tony retorts.

“It’s just like yours,” Steve fires back, raising an eyebrow.

Tony ignores him.

“Here’s my question,” Natasha says. “If she was stabbed that many times in that many places— How did it heal? That’s not normal.” And when Tony gives her a confused look, she adds, “You know what I mean.”

“Wait,” Steve catches on. “You don’t think she’s…” He looks over at Bucky.

“She knew I was standing behind the wall earlier,” Bucky says, a realization crossing his face. “She could sense me. I heard her, but I was too far away for any normal person to hear me.”

“Okay, let’s not jump to these conclusions right now,” Tony interjects. “It’s bad enough she has an arrest warrant and a habit of getting stabbed. I don’t need to worry about her being like you two knuckleheads.”

“It’s still worth looking into,” Natasha comments.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “We need to know if she is, Tony.”

“Well right now, she’s being a hormonal teenager, so I don’t think I’ll be able to ask her about it,” Tony deadpans.

“She just lost her mom,” Bucky says, remembering when Steve told him, and his heart broke for you. “Give her a break.”

“If you want to talk to her Barnes, go right ahead.”

“I might,” Bucky retorts, already heading toward the exit so he can find where you went. “Just to apologize for your attitude.”

+++

It takes Bucky a full ten minutes of searching for you before he remembers he can just ask FRIDAY.

“She’s currently in her room, James, but it is on Do Not Disturb.”

“Can you override that for me?” Bucky asks the AI.

“One moment.”

Bucky has no idea why FRIDAY needs a moment, but he waits. He’s in the living area so your room is just down the hall, but knocking does no good when Do Not Disturb is live. He knows because he uses it every night. No sound gets in or out.

“Do Not Disturb overridden by Tony Stark.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. Of course.

He heads down the hall to knock on your door, but you don’t respond. Because of the circumstances, Bucky goes against his better judgement and opens your door.

He’s met with a pillow hitting his chest.

“Oh,” you say immediately after. Bucky is surprised to find you sitting on the floor in front of the window, facing the city skies with a blanket over your shoulders. “Sorry. FRIDAY said Tony overrode it so I thought it was him.”

“Nope, just me,” Bucky replies, holding out his hands. He reaches down and grabs the pillow, tossing it back on your bed. “What are you doing down there?”

“Looking,” you shrug, turning back around to face the city.

“Can I join you?”

“Sure.”

Bucky shuts the door. “FRIDAY, put Do Not Disturb back up please.”

“Of course, James. Do Not Disturb is now active.”

“It’s really weird,” you say. “Having an AI in this place. Doesn’t it creep you out?”

Bucky lets out a laugh when he kneels to the floor to sit a little distance away from you, putting his back to the window. “There’s a lot of tech I don’t understand. I kinda had to get used to it quick when I was in Wakanda, though, so nothing phases me anymore.”

“Right, you were...gone for a while,” you pause, not knowing how to approach the subject. “You and Steve both were, right?”

He nods. “Steve was frozen, I was brainwashed.”

He says it so bluntly that you don’t know how to respond at all.

“I’m not anymore,” Bucky continues. “But I did a lot that I’m not proud of. And I was framed for something I didn’t do.”

You half-hum, half-scoff at that. “So you know what it’s like.”

Bucky nods, leaning his head back against the window. “I do.”

“Who were you brainwashed by again?”

“HYDRA,” Bucky replies, tensing a little. “Why?”

“Just curious,” you shrug. “The name sounds familiar, though.”

Bucky lifts his head from the window. “How familiar?”

You shake your head, unsure. “I dunno. It was all over the news, though, right? That’s probably why.”

“Yeah, probably,” Bucky replies slowly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.” You bring your knees up to your chest, hugging them.

“Do you know why you were stabbed?”

You don’t move a single muscle. You don’t even blink.

“Tony was an asshole,” Bucky says. “He shouldn’t force you to talk about something that recent.”

“Yeah.”

“But if you do ever wanna talk about it,” Bucky pauses, “I’m here. No pressure, though. I get it.”

You nod slowly, watching him from your peripheral vision. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Just not right now,” you continue, surprising yourself and Bucky. “Maybe later.”

“Whenever you want,” he shrugs. “I’ll give you some space, though. Do you uh...want your pillow back?”

You perk up a little. “Yeah, thanks. If you don’t mind.”

Bucky pushes himself to his feet, walking over to the bed to grab your pillow. He tosses it back to you gently.

You smile softly and hug it to your chest, but Bucky knows that once he leaves, you’ll lay down and sleep, right there in front of the window. Because your bed must be too soft.

He gets it. His is, too.

[softspideys]

The Perfect Date

summary: tom makes it his mission to take you on the perfect first date. the only problem is, you have no idea. 

warnings: none

word count: 3.6k

pairings: tom holland x reader

a/n: this was supposed to be a valentine’s day fic but then I forgot about it. oops. plz enjoy anyway

Tom had just started the last lap of Wario’s Gold Mine when he heard Zendaya ask, “Got any plans for Valentine’s Day?”

He tried not to pay attention to your answer, focusing on keeping his lead, but he couldn’t help it. His eyes flickered over to where you were sitting at the kitchen table, absently circling your finger around the rim of your wine glass.

You straightened up at her question, scoffing. “Are you kidding? When’s the last time you saw me date anybody, Z?”

“Hey,” she said, pointing at you accusingly. “Don’t even start with me. I set you up with people all the time, it’s not my fault you’re so picky.”

“It’s called having standards,” you fired back. “Sorry I’m not interested in pretentious jerks who insist on mansplaining Tarantino films to me over their venti-soy-no-foam latte with a triple shot of espresso.”

Zendaya cackled, and though he couldn’t see your face, Tom could tell you were smiling too; your words had no real bite to them.

“Seriously though,” you continued with a sigh. “I think I might just give up dating for a while. Lately it feels like my only options are either crappy blind dates or going through a sleazy hookup app for some mediocre sex. I can’t remember the last time I got properly asked out and went on, like, a nice date.”

As soon as you said that, the gears started turning in Tom’s head. And then he got an idea so good he almost forgot about the race entirely, until Harrison hit him with a red shell and passed him, sailing over the finish line in first place.

“Yes!” Harrison cheered, causing you and Zendaya to look over, startled. “Finally, I won!”

“Wow,” Zendaya said, amused. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever lost in Mario Kart, Holland.”

“Yeah, what’s gotten into you?” you asked teasingly as Harrison got up and did a victory dance.

Tom normally hated losing, but he was too preoccupied at the moment to care. “Nothing,” he said quickly. “Just . . . a little rusty, I guess.”

You raised your eyebrows, but then Zendaya challenged Harrison to a rematch, and the two of them immediately started a new grand prix while you called dibs on the winner. With the distraction in place, Tom had plenty of time to come up with a plan.

The four of you had been friends for years, but he’d always harbored something of a crush on you. He’d never tried to push the boundaries or pursue you because he liked your relationship as it was already, and didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But this would be different. This was harmless. He was simply going to show you how you deserved to be treated, give you a good date to remember among the bad ones.

Nothing else. Right?

* * *

You eyed the huge bouquet of roses your coworker had on her desk and tried not to feel too envious. She’d made a big show of bringing them in this morning and inviting everyone who walked by to smell them, going on and on about how her girlfriend had surprised her for Valentine’s Day yesterday.

So what, you thought to yourself. I can get myself flowers whenever I want; I don’t need a holiday to have an excuse to do it. It really didn’t make you feel better though.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said, making you jump a mile. You looked up. Tom was peering over the wall of your cubicle, which was . . . unexpected. He hardly ever visited you at work.

“Oh, hi,” you said. “I didn’t even see you come in.”

“Yeah, you were totally zoned out,” Tom said. “Good thing I brought caffeine.” He placed a to-go cup from your favorite coffee shop on your desk. You saw the order written on the side; he’d gotten it exactly right.

“Wow,” you said, surprised but grateful. “Thanks.” You’d already had coffee this morning, but clearly it was shaping up to be a two-cup type of day. You took a careful sip and felt better already.

“No problem.” Tom followed your line of vision to your coworker’s desk. “Pretty flowers.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, a little quietly. You cleared your throat. “So, what’s up? Did we have plans today or something?”

“Oh, no,” he said, shifting from foot to foot, “but that’s actually kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.” He seemed nervous, which in turn made you nervous.

“Okay,” you said, giving him your full attention.  

“So . . . are you doing anything this Friday night?”

It was only Monday. You thought for a second before shaking your head. “I don’t think so.”

“Would you like to have dinner? With me?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. That was it? “Oh. Sure.”

You could’ve sworn you saw his eyes widen the slightest bit. “Really? I mean, great. Cool.” He scratched his nose. “So, Friday at six o’clock, then? I’ll text you the name of the place?”

“Sounds good,” you said. He seemed excited, though you couldn’t figure out why. You got dinner with him, Harrison, and Zendaya at least once a week.

“Alrighty,” Tom said, swinging his arms a little and nodding. “Well, I’ll let you get back to work. See you Friday.”

“See you,” you said. Did he really come all the way to your office to ask you this in person instead of just texting you like he normally would? Maybe he’d been nearby or something. You watched him leave, mostly confused but also kind of endeared.

“Was that your boyfriend?” your coworker asked, subtly adjusting her flowers again.

You quickly shook your head, turning back to your computer and taking another sip of your coffee. “Oh, no. Just a friend.”

As Tom left your office, he allowed himself to do a small fist-pump. Getting you to agree was the hardest part. Now came the slightly-easier-but-still-hard part: making sure he gave you the best first date ever.

* * *

Something strange was going on with Tom. You first realized it when you brought up the dinner on Friday to Zendaya and she had no clue what you were talking about.

“Tom didn’t invite you?”

“Nope.” She popped the “p.”

“Huh.” You chewed your lip. “That’s . . . weird. Maybe he figured I’d just tell you about it. And I guess you don’t really need an invitation anyway . . . do you think he invited Harrison?”

“I don’t know.” You were on the phone, so you couldn’t see Zendaya’s face, but it kind of sounded like she was trying not to laugh. “Maybe he wants it to be just the two of you.”

“Maybe.” It was rare, but it wasn’t like you never spent time with just Tom or Harrison.  You couldn’t remember the last time you had dinner with either of them one-on-one, though. This seemed . . . different. “But I’m sure he won’t mind if you guys show up,” you said with a shrug.

Now Zendaya did laugh. “No, no, it’s fine,” she said. “I think I’m supposed to babysit my niece and nephew anyway. You guys have fun.”

Then there was Tom himself. You hadn’t seen him in person since Monday, but he’d been texting you random questions all week:

Do you prefer a casual or an elegant ambiance?

How many candles on a table is too many? Or do you think overhead lamps are better?

Oyster bars . . . yes/no?

You answered all of them with increasing bemusement, but any time you asked why he would mysteriously change the subject. You couldn’t help but feel like there was something you were missing here.

Finally, he sent you the name of the restaurant on Friday morning: Soul & Persona.

You’d never heard of it, so you decided to look it up. One glance at their website told you this place wasn’t like the casual restaurant-and-bars you and your friends usually frequented. This was fancy. Clicking over to the menu, you inhaled sharply at the prices written next to the items. Luckily, today was payday.

You arrived at the restaurant shortly before six. Another person was already standing outside, and as you got closer you realized it was Tom. Two things about that were already weird: one, he was normally notoriously late to everything; and two, he was holding a bouquet of roses in one hand that were so big they nearly obstructed his face.

He didn’t notice you approaching, busy frowning at something on his phone. “Hey,” you said at last, making him jump.  

“Oh! Hey!” He cleared his throat, shoving his phone in his pocket. “I mean—good evening.” He did a strange little bow before thrusting the flowers at you. “These are for you.”

“Wow,” you said, taking them carefully. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You look really nice.”

You were glad you researched the restaurant in advance, because the jeans and t-shirt combo you’d originally planned on wearing would definitely not have been appropriate here.

“So do you,” you said. He did: he was wearing slacks and a nice dress shirt under a jacket, his hair neatly combed.

“Thanks. Should we go in?” he asked. You nodded, and he hurried to open the door, ushering you inside. It was crowded, which made you a little worried. How long would the wait time be?

But Tom went right up to the hostess stand. “Hi,” he said, “we have a reservation for two at six; the name is Tom?”

She looked at her book and nodded. “You can follow me right this way.” She led you to a quiet corner of the restaurant and seated you at a table by the window. “Enjoy your meal.”

“Here,” Tom said, pulling your chair out before you could sit down. Again, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

“This place is crazy nice,” you said, looking around as the hostess placed a wine list on the table.

“Yeah,” Tom agreed, a little distractedly. “Um. So. Do you prefer to work in a team or alone?”

You blinked. “What? Where’d that come from?”

He shrugged, fidgeting with his collar like he was nervous. “I—I dunno. Just making conversation.”

“Oo-kay,” you said with a laugh. “Well, I haven’t seen you since you blessed my office with your presence on Monday. How was your week? Didn’t you have to give a presentation yesterday?”

“Yes, and one of the board members literally fell asleep during it,” Tom said, wrinkling his nose.

He seemed to loosen up after that, and the conversation flowed naturally from then on as you talked about your plans for the weekend, your friends, your families, and any other random thoughts that occurred to you.

For dinner you tried a pasta dish while Tom got steak, and you each had the soup of the day for an appetizer. Your knowledge of wine was limited to whatever was cheapest when you went to the liquor store, but Tom had apparently become an expert overnight: he asked the waiter all kinds of questions about their reds vs. their whites before finally ordering a bottle for the two of you to share.

All in all, it was an enjoyable dinner. You always had fun with Tom, of course, but you rarely got to spend time with just him. And though you normally stayed away from expensive places like this one, you had to admit the food was delicious and the ambiance made you feel very sophisticated.

“Can I get either of you some coffee or dessert?” the waiter asked as he cleared your plates. You’d never been one to say no to that, but Tom jumped in before you could open your mouth.

“No thank you,” he said quickly. “Just the check please.” Then he looked at you. “I thought maybe we could walk to that bookstore you like? The one with the bakery in it? We could—we could get dessert there and browse.”

“Oh,” you said, surprised. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

“Cool.” He sounded relieved.

The waiter brought out the bill and Tom grabbed it as soon as he set it on the table. “What are you doing?” you protested. There was normally an agreement among your friends that everyone paid for their own meals when you went out to dinner.

“I’m paying,” he insisted, waving you off as you fruitlessly tried to put your own debit card down.

“At least let me Venmo you for my half.”

“Nope.”

“Tom!”

“Seriously, it’s fine.” He wouldn’t even let you see how much the meal cost.  

You could tell he wasn’t going to budge for whatever reason, so you had no choice but to relent. “If you’re sure,” you said, watching him smugly sign the receipt. You made sure to grab your flowers before you got up and followed him out of the restaurant.

The bookstore you liked was a few blocks away, but you didn’t mind the walk. The air was warm but balmy, refreshing on your face. “That was amazing,” Tom said.

“It was,” you agreed. “I’m convinced they put actual crack in that pasta sauce. It was otherworldly.”

He laughed before he asked, a little hesitantly, “So are you . . . having a nice time?”

You looked over at him questioningly. “Of course I am. But I always have a nice time with you.”

“Good,” he said quietly, nodding. “Good.”

“Are you?”

“Yes,” Tom said immediately. “I just wanted to make sure. So, what are some of your pet peeves?”

“What is it with you and these questions?” Thankfully, you arrived at the bookstore and were spared from answering.

One of your favorite things about hanging out with Tom was that you didn’t necessarily need to be attached at the hip or in constant conversation in order to have fun. As soon as you entered he made a beeline for the True Crime section while you went to look at the new releases.

It was nice to just browse on your own for a while, and you ended up buying a book you’d been wanting to read ever since it came out. Tom was still perusing the shelves after you checked out, so you sneakily went up to the bakery counter and bought some dessert.

He found you sitting at a table in the cafe, reading your new book. “What’s this?” He gestured to the two pieces of cake and cups of decaf coffee on the table in front of you. “You should’ve let me pay!”

You’d been anticipating this, so you merely rolled your eyes. “Cry about it. You paid for dinner; it was the least I could do.”

“That’s not how this works,” Tom objected, but he reluctantly sat down and pulled his cake towards him anyway. The two of you discussed your books while you ate, and you tried not to act like you were eyeing his slice the entire time.

He noticed, of course. “You wanna try?”

You nodded sheepishly. You expected him to push the plate towards you, but instead he scooped a piece up onto his fork and held it out. “Here.” A little surprised, you opened your mouth and allowed him to feed it to you. For some reason it felt oddly intimate.

He was watching you expectantly as you chewed. “Good?”

“Yeah,” you managed to say, swallowing. “Really good.”

It was getting late and the store was closing soon, so you left after finishing your coffees. Usually this was when you’d call it a night and go home, but this time you felt no strong desire to. So when Tom started walking along the river instead of heading back towards the restaurant, you didn’t mind at all, falling into step beside him.

The night sky was clear, giving you a breathtaking view of dozens of stars. Hardly anyone else was around, and the river below was quiet and calm. It was like you were suspended in time. You couldn’t remember ever feeling so peaceful.

Tom’s hand bumped yours as you walked. You didn’t think anything of it at first, but then it happened again, and this time he laced his fingers through yours.

For some reason that was what made everything suddenly fall into place, for you to finally put two and two together and realize what was going on.

Oh my God.

“Tom,” you said hesitantly, shattering the comfortable silence between you.

“Yeah?”

“Is this . . . a date?”

He stopped walking, forcing you to do the same. Under the soft glow of the streetlights you could see he was staring at you. “Wait,” he said slowly. “This whole time . . . you didn’t know?”

Now that he’d basically just confirmed it, everything started to make sense: coming all the way to your office just to ask you to dinner, bringing you coffee, making reservations at a fancy restaurant, paying for the meal—

You were on a date and you hadn’t even realized.

“Oh, God,” was all you could say. You almost wanted to laugh, though nothing about this was even remotely funny. It was like you’d been hit over the head with a brick.

How could you not have known? It should’ve been obvious when he paid for the meal; no, when you realized you’d be eating at such a fancy place; no, when he showed up randomly on Monday, brought you coffee, and fucking asked you to dinner.

You both seemed to realize at the same time that you were still holding hands, and he quickly dropped it and stepped back. For the first time since you’d met, the air between the two of you was awkward. “I—I’m so sorry. I thought you knew.”

“I should’ve known,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m so stupid, I just didn’t think—” You didn’t finish your sentence. You honestly couldn’t figure out why you didn’t realize it sooner.

Because he’s your friend, a voice in the back of your head reminded you. He’s your friend and he’s never expressed any interest in you before, not like this.

That was true. You’d always thought Tom was handsome, and maybe early on in your friendship you’d fantasized about him once or twice. But he always treated you normally, never outwardly showing any sign of wanting more.  

“You’re not stupid,” he said immediately. “I should’ve made it more clear.”

“I’m just confused, I guess,” you said carefully. “I mean . . . why now? And why . . . me?”

He exhaled. “I overheard you the other day when you and Z were talking, and you were saying something like . . . you hadn’t been properly asked out and taken on a nice date in a while. So I guess I just wanted to do that for you. Make you happy.”

Your brain felt like it was short-circuiting. You didn’t know what to say to that, but he seemed to take your silence as a cue to keep going.

“That’s why I came to your office, to ask you in person instead of doing it over text or whatever. And I saw you looking at those flowers your coworker had, so I bought you some. And I picked this restaurant because it was nice but also because it was near the bookstore. And I memorized some first-date questions in case our conversation got boring, but I think that probably wasn’t necessary.” He sucked in a deep breath. “And now that I’m saying all of this I realize how weird it sounds. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” you said dumbly. His previous words were still echoing in your head. I guess I just wanted to do that for you. Make you happy.

He’d taken the time to think about all the things you liked and used that knowledge to plan the Perfect Date. You couldn’t remember the last time anyone had done something so kind, so thoughtful, so . . . romantic. Did this mean what you thought it meant?

Of course, the only way you were able to translate all of this was with, “Wow.”

But then he added, “And—and I didn’t do all of this because I thought it would lead to a second date or anything like that. I only—”

“Wait,” you interrupted, your stomach plummeting. This conversation was giving you whiplash. “So you . . . don’t like me?”

“Huh?”

“You did all of this . . . just because? You don’t actually want to go on a date with me?” Now you were more confused than ever, and a little hurt beneath that.

Tom’s eyes widened. “No! Well yes, but . . . no. Wait.” He took a deep breath. Now or never, right? “I do like you, but this was separate from all that. I only meant that I wasn’t expecting anything from this. I just wanted you to have a good time.”

You nodded slowly, exhaling. “Okay. So . . . what if I told you that I did have a good time, that I like you too, and I want go out with you again?”

Tom blinked at you owlishly for a second before his face split into a huge grin, one you were sure your own was mirroring. “Then . . . I’d say . . . same. To all of it.”

“Good,” you said, stepping closer. “In fact, I think this has almost been the perfect first date.”

He paused. “Wait, almost? What would make it perfect?” He furrowed his eyebrows, looking a little panicked. You laughed, reaching up and cupping his jaw.

“It has to end with a good-night kiss, doesn’t it?”

Tom relaxed, his hands finding their way to your waist. “Oh. Yes, you’re absolutely right.”

The two of you were still smiling as you kissed, and Tom lifted one of his hands to do a silent, sneaky fist-pump. 

Mission: success.

[softboywriting]

Little Moments | Billy Russo

Summary: Tension in familiarity leads to confessions after a terrifying event. [Billy Russo x Reader] [Violence] [Blood] [Gunshots] [Assistant!Reader] [Alternate Timeline - Castle family not mentioned/never happened] [Fluff] 

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: This is my first Billy Russo fic, we’ll see where this goes yeah?

Just over a year ago you took a position as an assistant with Anvil. The job wasn't too bad, basically you took care of paying the bills for the facility, keeping inventory of supplies and equipment, scheduling appointments and keeping track of who was deployed where and why while keeping tabs on them and their duties while on deployment from Anvil. You had done work like this before, managing in a grocery store in your early twenties. It wasn't all that different, just instead of managing products you managed people. No the job was not difficult but your boss. Well. He was something else. 

William "Billy" Russo was a force to be reckoned with. Intelligent, handsome, cunning. His smile could kill. His eyes...they were something all their own. To say Billy was attractive was an understatement. But attraction was only part of the problem. The other part is his sharp tongue, quick wit and dry sarcasm. A year of sharing an office with him had put you on edge. You never know what he would do next, what he would say next. Some days you wish you could fuck him right there in that expensive leather rolling chair behind his desk. Other's you want to rip his leg off and shove it where the sun doesn't shine. The two of you got close, going back and forth with playful banter almost daily. It's like you’re always on the edge of being something more, if one of you would just make the first move.

Things finally come to a head one day when you've got a particularly large workload on your plate and Billy has decided to go on one of his little rants about who knows what, you tune him out. He is always coming into the office and talking to himself. Maybe he is talking to you, but you rarely participate in the conversation. At first you thought he was on a call, using a headset or something, but no. He just talks, and he talks a lot.

"Can you shut up for five fucking minutes?" You snap, head pounding from eye strain. You've been at the computer for six hours now, and you're trying to transcribe a call from one of his units over in Turkey about a job. Billy's mindless chatter has gotten on your last nerve today. 

Billy stops, falling silent somewhere near his desk. The room becomes thick, heavy with tension as you both remain silent. You've never snapped at him, not seriously. You've told him to go fuck himself but in a playful way. This was too real. Too loaded. He's your boss. Fuck.

You're not one to apologize when you're not actually sorry though. You remain silent, knowing he expects you to say something. He wants you to take back your words but you won't. 

"How much work do you have left?" 

Your eyes flick from the screen to him. He looks flushed. Angry? No. His eyes hold no malice. He looks aroused. No way. A cold sweat runs down your back. He must be livid. "I'm transcribing a call right now then I have to make copies of some invoices, order new foam guards for the weight benches and-"

"Finish the call. Then go home."

"Yes, sir."

Billy pushes off his desk and exits the room, leaving the door open behind him. You know that he isn't happy with your little outburst. You just don't know why he won't say as much. He looks turned on if you didn't know better. Or do you? 

The rest of the call goes smoothly now you don't have to pause every few seconds to rewind and listen to it to make out exactly what the unit leader was saying over Billy's chatter. You wrap up and head out as you were told. On the way out you pass Billy with a few of his higher up employees.

"Good night, Mr. Russo." You say softly with a hand raised in a wave. You always call him by his last name around other people. It's not much of a gesture but you want to keep things calm and civil. He nods, face unreadable, and gives a little raise of his hand as well. More than you expected, and it puts you at ease that you might keep your job. 

_____________________

"I'll have my assistant arrange the payment from you after the contract is finalized." 

You stop by the door to the meeting room to listen in. The men in the room with Billy are potential clients, men who want private security for multiple locations. You had greeted them when they arrived and showed them to the meeting room. They rubbed you the wrong way. You met a lot of men and women in your year at Anvil, a lot of different people from different walks of life. None of them made you as uncomfortable as these men had. You step away from the door and go to the office. If Billy wants to get in bed with them then let him. That's not your call.

"Let me grab the paperwork from my assistant." You hear through the closed door and Billy steps in, closing it behind him. "Can you give me a new client contract?" 

"Sure." You pull open the file drawer on your right and thumb through the papers. "They must be very promising work."

Billy leans on the side of the desk, quirking an eyebrow up at you. "What's got you so mouthy lately?" 

You cut him a glare and he chuckles. 

"You don't like them?"

"I'm not fond." 

"Why?" 

"They feel wrong." You extract a thick booklet of paper and hand it to Billy. "But let's not pretend you care what I think, Mr. Russo."

Billy rolls his eyes at the formalities. "You know damn well I value your input just like I do from any other person who works for me. Talk to me."

You sit up and lean back in your chair, eyes on his, your heart pounding. He's looking at you so attentively it's hard to focus. Those eyes, so soft and warm staring back at you. Fuck. He could make you spill the truth about everything without trying. "They give me a bad feeling. The second I greeted them they just...felt bad? I can't explain it."

"We work with a lot of morally gray people in our line of business, sweetheart." Billy leans back, hands spreading out on the desk. His hands, fuck they're nice. "But I will never ignore a gut instinct."

"So you won't sign the contract with them?" 

"I'll do some more investigation before I do. Talk to a few friends in high places."

You nod and slide forward to sit at the computer, closer to him. What a mistake. You can smell his cologne, his heat is pouring into your knee beside his. It takes everything in you to keep your eyes forward on the computer. He reaches over and lays a hand on your shoulder, making your body flush with heat. Why did he have to touch you? 

"Yes?" You ask, sparing a quick glance up at him. Mistake. He's staring down at you with those beautiful obsidian eyes. God they're so big and he's such a-

"Thank you."

"For what?" 

"For telling me. You've never come to me like this before about a client. I like it."

"Oh. Well it's your business so-" 

Billy leans in close to your ear and you feel that cold sweat return from when you told him to shut up. This time it's not fear or panic, it's arousal? The closeness is getting to you, your head is swimming. "You're just as important to me as this company. Remember that." 

You nod.

"Couldn't hear you."

"Y-yeah. Yes. I will."

He pushes off the desk and slides the papers he had been leaning against closer to you before he picks up the contract and smacks it against his hand a few times. "Will you set up a meeting with the Rodgers Estate for later?"

You grab a pen and scribble it in your planner. "Got it Mr. Russo."

"One more thing." He says and you look up. His hand is on the door handle. "Have a drink and relax? You're a little wound up lately. And drop the Mr. Russo shit, call me Billy when we're alone. You know that." He smiles and gives you a wink before slipping out the door to meet the clients in the hall.  

A drink? You need a week off, a spa getaway and a new career. Billy Russo is driving you up a wall and he doesn't even see it. Or maybe he does. Shit. 

_____________

A week later. Just before eight in the morning you're settled into your desk, ready to start going through some new shipment invoices when you hear a commotion downstairs. It isn't unusual for the trainees to get out of hand from time to time, fights break out, things get heated. You dismiss it and go about your work. 

"Six new treadmills? What the hell are these people doing to them?" You sigh and type the invoice number for Sports Equipmentz LTD into your system. "Billy is gonna get an ear full for this one."

There is more comotion and you look at the closed door. Another fight? Billy doesn't stand for that kind of stuff on the training floor. He would have stopped it by now. Actually, no one should be in the facility except you and Billy this early. What the hell is that noise.

You push up from the desk and go to the window beside the door, peeking through the blinds. From what you can see nothing looks out of balance. Then you hear gunshots and your stomach churns, cold and sick. There is no live fire allowed in the facility. All firearm training is done off site. 

"Fuck." You flip the lock on the door and look around for something to barricade the floor to ceiling window beside the door. There is nothing you can move alone. You flip off the light and head to your desk, grab your phone and dial Billy's number. 

No answer. You sink down under the desk and pull the chair in close. Maybe if someone does get in they will think the office is empty and move on since the desk looks unused. You reach over and shut down the computer tower, then reach up and pull down all your paperwork to clear the desk. 

Thumping from the bathroom on the other side of the office makes your heart pound. Someone is on the upper floor with you. A gunshot. Tears well up in your eyes. Why didn't you let Billy get you a conceal and carry? Why didn't you do that gun training six months ago? Because you're afraid of guns and you couldn't trust yourself not to hurt someone on accident. Fuck. Fuck! 

The door handle jiggles. You cover your mouth and try dialing Billy again. The phone disconnects as soon as it rings once. Goes straight to a voicemail. You can't remember if he is with a client today. There are voices outside the door, then a gunshot so loud you know it's just on the other side. You close your eyes, press your face into your knees and try to imagine you are invisible. 

The door opens, not with a kick, but unlocked and you can't breathe. You can't move. They're moving around the room. Billy's desk first. Papers are rustled, then the footsteps grow closer. You shrink yourself smaller, arms in pain from holding your knees so tight. 

"If they took you, I swear to God I will-...there you are." 

You look up and Billy is knelt down, arm on the desk as he looks at you. He's a fucking mess of what you can only assume is blood and God knows what. "Billy, oh god for fucks sake." You cry and he shoves the chair away to pull you out onto his lap. 

Never have you clung to someone so hard in your entire life. You press your face into his neck, hand digging into his back harshly as you cry in relief. 

His hand slides up your back and cradles your ribs on the left. "Hey, hey." He murmurs softly and you stop crying so hard. " What did I promise you when I hired you?" 

"That I would be safe. That no matter what I would be safe and a-all I had to do was paperw-work." 

"That's right." Billy pulls you back gently, tugging your shirt to guide you. He looks horrible, but none of it seems to be from his own injuries. "Aw, fuck. You're a mess now." 

You look down at your shirt and it's got blood on it. "Oh god. Oh god wh-who..."

Billy shakes his head. "Don't think about it too much." He presses a kiss to your temple, hand on the back of your head. "Close your eyes, don't look at it."

"What happened?" 

"I'll tell you later."

"I didn't know what to do."

"Hey, no, no shh. You were a good girl. You stayed quiet, stayed down and locked the door." He rubs your back and pats your side. "We're going to get out of here and I'll handle the situation from the apartment."

You nod and peek your eyes open for a second. "It's bad out there isn't it?" 

"It's not pretty. I'll get you outside and we'll get out of here, don't worry." 

"Okay."

_____________________

You had never been to Billy's place. Never had a reason to go. It's more industrial than you expected, modern industrial chic. Posh. Very expensive obviously, but that was Billy. Well dressed, well spoken. He looked the part to play the part. 

He set you up in a large bathroom and gave you clothes, a shirt and a pair of pajama pants. They might fit alright, Billy is quite a bit slimmer than you are in the hips and thighs. 

You look in the mirror and clench your jaw. Your peachy colored blouse is ruined, your sweater is fucked. Your face. God your face has someone else's blood on it. Across your cheek and nose where you had pressed your face into Billy's neck. 

There is a pile of washcloths and you grab a few, soaking them and scrubbing at your skin. You pull your clothes off fervently, desperate to be clean of strange blood. The shower is large, open and ready to be used. So you do. You get in and turn the water on and sit on the floor, processing. It was all a blur. Everything happened so fast. Was it even real?

Some time passes and you see the door open. The water is getting lukewarm as it cascades over your skin. You don't even care if he sees you naked you're so out of your own head. 

"I'm going to head to Anvil. The police have arrived to investigate the break in."

"Okay." You croak, not looking away from the wall opposite you.

"You can stay." Billy walks into the room and leans over the shower to turn the water off. He squats down beside you and offers you a towel from the warmer by the toilet. "Mind getting out of there for me?"

"Billy, what happened?" You look over at him and he looks...normal. He's in a blue sweater, dark jeans, boots. It's the most casual you've ever seen him. He's always been a suit man to you. Here he looks like a guy you'd meet at a bar and share a few beers with. The guy you'd take home and laugh about jokes with from stupid comedian on TV. It's strange, but warming. 

He helps you up and wraps you in the fluffy gray towel. "Your feeling? About the clients I met with?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You were right." He slicks your hair back off of your face. "They got wind that I was looking further into why they wanted my employees. It was for a human trafficking operation. I don't do human trafficking, and I was going to decline the offer. Some snitch at the Rodgers Estate let it out that I was asking questions. I guess they thought they could clear their tracks by killing me."

"O-oh."

"Mmm. I didn't think they would do something in broad daylight but here we are. Amatures." Billy steps back and runs a hand over his hair. "I called the police, said that I got a notification that the building had been beached through an unauthorized entrance. It's not a lie. Technically they did. Thankfully I wasn't there."

You step out of the shower and grab the clothes he gave you from the counter. "But you were. You...you killed those men." 

"No, I incapacitated them." He crosses his arms and pulls his lower lip between his teeth. "It was me and you or them. We were the only ones in that facility. I wasn't going to let them hurt you."

"H-how do you explain that?" You sit on the toilet and Billy leans on the doorframe. "What if-" 

"That's my job sweetheart. You worry about yourself, here. I gotta go meet the cops." He pats the wood a few times and looks out into the hall. "Call me if you need anything. I promise I'll answer no matter what."

You nod. 

"I'll be back later."

____________________

Hours pass and you become familiar with the apartment. It's huge, the penthouse of a very expensive building downtown. It has two bedrooms, two baths, a kitchen and dining area, a living room, a balcony that wraps around and has a fire pit and a small private pool. It's more luxury than you could ever afford. Not that Anvil doesn't pay well, because it does. This is just far more than you could ever make. 

In Billy's room there aren't any personal touches. It's clean, picture perfect even. Like at any moment someone could come and take photos to sell the place. There is a picture on his bedside table, the only thing that isn't straight from a design catalog. It's you and Billy with a few investors. Your first meeting he ever brought you to. How could you forget? He bought you the dress literally an hour before the meeting because yours ripped in the back. It was possibly the most embarrassing thing you've ever done in front of a boss. He didn't make you feel bad or anything, he simply asked your size, stopped at a shop on the way to the dinner and got you a dress. It was just that easy, that normal. 

You set the photo down and lay back. Your eyes close and you imagine what Billy is like outside of work. Of course you've gotten a taste of that, all the banter and shared stories. Nothing too deep but enough to keep conversation going. You probably shared more than him, way more. It was like when you started talking to someone you couldn't stop. You just, information overload the poor person. Usually people get spooked away, or they tell you that they don't care or don't need to know. Not Billy. He just listened, gaze fixed on you while you talked. Maybe that's why you like him so much. He listened. He cared. 

"Cozy?" 

You roll over and open your eyes to find Billy in the doorway to his room. "You're back. I didn't hear you come in?" 

"There is a bed in the other room y'know?" He chuckles as he goes to sit at the end of the bed and pull his boots off. "Or do you just like mine because it's bigger?" 

"Oh yeah, yours is much bigger. Comfier too." 

He hums. "Go through all my shit?" 

"You know it." 

"There's my girl." He looks back and he's smiling. "I was getting worried about you. You seemed pretty shaken up."

You sigh and shake your head. Of course Billy doesn't think about how you've never been in a dangerous situation short of falling from a tree when you were ten. To him gunfire and blood were in a day's work as an ex marine special operations. "I think I'd be more worried about you."

Billy turns and crawls up the bed, leaning with his head on his hand, elbow propping him up. "Why's that?" 

"Been a while since you saw live action hasn't it? You're not worried about PTSD?"

"I've seen plenty of action since I got out. I know the risk I take running the company I do. It hasn't happened before now but it was bound to eventually."

"Right, yeah."

"Do I scare you?" 

You shake your head. "No, not really. I know you've done things, seen things that I couldn't even imagine. It's part of who you are, who you were." 

"I'm sorry you had to see me like that. It was them or us. You know that right?" 

"Y-yeah. I know." You pick at the bedspread and he bumps his hand against your knee. 

"You alright? I tried to keep you...away from it. I know you aren't like everyone else."

"I'm not ex military you mean." You feel your chest tighten. "I'm a civilian. I can't defend myself." 

Billy sits up and lays a hand on your back. "Hey, hey."

"I shouldn't stay at Anvil. I should just go somewhere else. I can't do this, Billy, I'm scared what if this happened again?" Tears spill over and down your face. "I-I can't." 

"I will never let anything happen to you." He turns your face to look at him. He's warm, his lips plush, eyes on yours. "You can work from home if you want. I'll stop by and bother you and make you tell me to shut up." He smiles a little as your lips turn up at the telling him to shut up part. "You like that?"

"I don't know, but I think you do." 

Billy laughs softly, his smile wide. "Maybe I do. You noticed that?" 

"Maybe." You wipe your eyes and he brushes a stray tear away with his thumb. "Why do you care so much? I'm just your assistant." 

"Because I love you."

"W-what?" You hiccup as your breathing stops for a moment. 

"You're like family. I trust you with everything, I tell you everything, you're my girl." Billy runs a hand through your hair. "I can't lose you." 

"I don't-...I'm just-" 

His lips press against yours and your eyes fall closed. It's an innocent kiss, soft and loving. "If I read this wrong all this time, you gotta tell me." He murmurs, head pressed to yours. 

"No, you didn't. I just, you just caught me off guard." 

"Yeah?" He smiles, nose scrunching up against yours. He places his fingers under your chin and tilts your head up to kiss you again briefly. "You're sure it's okay?" 

You nod and he pulls back to kiss your temple, holding his nose to your hair and cradling the back of your head. 

"Get some rest, I've got some calls to make." He climbs off the bed and heads for the door. 

"Are you leaving?" 

"No." 

"Good." 

He walks back quickly and kisses your cheek. "I mean it. Get some rest."

"I would if you'd just go already."

"Oh. You think you can just get rid of me?" He crawls back on the bed and you fall back as he straddles your hips. "You think you can boss me around huh?" He starts tickling your sides and you squeal, thrashing under his surprisingly strong hold. 

"Stop! Stop! I yield!" 

Billy stops and bends over, bracketing your head with his arms. "I knew you'd be fun to torment outside of that stuffy office." 

"I hate tickling." 

"Oh that's very obvious. I've made a mental note, highlighted it in yellow and everything." He bumps his nose against yours. "I'm gonna find everything that makes you tick." 

You reach up and run a hand over his hair that's flopping forward from lack of product. "Expect to get as much as you give." 

"Oh I do." His lips ghost over yours as he speaks. "I look forward to it." 

You shove his head to the side and he flops over. "Don't you have calls to make?" 

"Maybe." 

"Go make your calls. I'm going to stink up your bed and rifle through your drawers more." 

"I expect no less." He says, getting up and going to the door once more. "Let me know if you find anything you like, yeah?" 

"Get out!" 

He just cackles and you close your eyes. This is really happening. Funny how the world works in mysterious ways. You never thought you'd be the one to snatch Billy Russo off the market but here you are, and you're pretty damn proud of it. 

The end 

-----------

Header image by delicate-venus

Thank you so much for reading, please reblog to support content creators. -A

[dreamescapeswriting]

BTS Reaction ||Prank Wars [Request]

BTS X GN!Reader

WARNING: FAKE PHYSICAL FIGHT IN JIMIN’S REACTION

SEOKJIN:

Jin smirked to himself as he finished applying the small fake hickey's up and down his neck, he was proud of himself for making them look at least a little convincing in low light. He knew you were due home any minute and he was determined that he was going to be the one winning this prank war the two of you had seemed to have found yourselves in together. It started off with the small squirt of water here and there but now it had turned into a full-fledged war between you both, each of you outstepping the other. The door turned to the bedroom and he picked up some concealer from the desk quickly pretending that he was attempting to cover up the purple marks when you walked through the door. 

"J-Jin?" You stuttered out as you stared at the marks on his neck, your heart sinking as you began to think of him sleeping with someone else, someone that wasn't you.

"Babe, it isn't what it looked like-" You began crying into your hands dramatically as you thought of him with another person and Jin couldn't help but feel bad at the thought of a joke making you this upset. 

"Baby please, listen-"

"No, we're done...I-I can't believe you would ever cheat on me." You whimpered as you walked out of the bedroom door, tears rolling down your face as you headed towards the front door of your shared home. Jin continued to plead with you to turn around and look at him but you stood at the door with your back to him, 

"I can't believe you would ever do something like that...T-That you think I would fall for something like that," You laughed as you turned to look at him, turning on the flash light to show the sparkles of the purple eyeshadow he'd used on his neck. 

"Dang it," He hissed out as he realised you had been pranking him, of course, you knew they were fake the moment you walked into the bedroom door, the light reflected on the glitter and he'd left the evidence all over the vanity.

YOONGI:

Yoongi whined out as you continued tickling his sides, you knew just how ticklish he was under his arms and down his hips so you were doing your best to tickle him in revenge for him putting salt in the sugar pot making your drink salty.

"You're evil Min Yoongi," You cried out as you straddled his lap continuing to tickle him as he thrashed around beneath you doing everything he could to get you off him but that was when he came up with the genius idea. 

"Babe! Stop!" He whined out as he continued trying to push you off him, slapping your hands away before he whined again. 

"Areum stop!" You froze in place at the mention of his ex-girlfriends name and you stared down at him, 

"What?" You questioned thinking you might have just misheard him through all the laughter and whining but he frowned, 

"I said stop Y/n," You shook your head as you struggled to get away from him,

"You called me Areum-" As soon as a giant smirk took over his face you knew that it was his plan to just get you to stop tickling him so much so you grabbed a pillow and threw it at his face, laughing as he rolled back against the floor in a fit of chuckles.

HOSEOK:

You stared over at Hoseok as he worked on his laptop from home, he had planned to take some time off and spend it with you but so far he'd been working from home. 

"Hoseok can you get me my jacket please?" His whole body tensed and you smirked to yourself knowing that your plan was working, he slowly turned to look at you with sad eyes. 

"What?" He questioned, you glanced over at him innocently as if you had no idea why he was so upset all of a sudden. 

"Hoseok, can you get me my jacket? Please..." You repeated but his eyes seemed to get sadder and it felt as though you were staring down at Bambi. 

"Why? Why are you calling me Hoseok? Did I do something wrong? Did I forget our anniversary?!" You could hear the panic in his voice as he rushed to his feet checking the calendar as you did your best to hold back a small laugh as you watched him.

"Baby relax, I was just playing." You laughed as he looked at you, his eyes still sad as he began to pout a little, sitting beside you and kissing you all over your face. 

"I promise to spend today with you after I've finished this email." He whispered before going back to his laptop.

NAMJOON:

Namjoon left half an hour ago to go to the studio for some kind of emergency leaving you home alone after watching the scariest horror movie you'd ever watched. You thought you would be able to manage it without being too scared but that was before Namjoon up and left you in the middle of the night. 

"I'm fine, it's just a movie." You whispered to yourself as you headed up the stairs to bed, flicking the light switch on as you entered the bedroom, you sat down on the bed and tried to calm yourself down when all of a sudden the light turned off and you let out a scream. 

"I-It's fine! It's just the light bulb, it's old." You tried to reassure yourself but it came back on only to go off again a couple of more times making you scream out and hide under the blankets as Namjoon continued turning the lights on and off from the main switch downstairs. 

"Babe!" He yelled out as he heard you crying to yourself under the sheets, he sprinted up to you bringing you into his arms as he did his best to hide his laugher.

"I was just playing around, I'm sorry." He whispered as you sniffled in his arms, shaking at the thought of a ghost being in the house only for it to turn out to be your dumb ass boyfriend. 

"If I wasn't so scared you'd be sleeping on the sofa." You complained before pouting up at him.

JIMIN:

Jungkook and yourself had been practising the routine for weeks, you had fake sugar glass around the apartment as well as fake blood pods stashed in your pockets. Jimin had the genius idea of starting a prank war between everyone and you and Jungkook teamed up together to end it, deciding to "fight" one another as if a prank had gotten out of hand and you were truly mad at him. 

"You're a fucking bitch!" Jungkook yelled out as soon as the front door opened to reveal a concerned Jimin standing there watching you both. 

"Yeah! Well, at least I'm not a fucking cry baby!" You yelled out as you playfully shoved Jungkook against the wall only for him to light push you back, knocking you into the coffee table that smashed and made you hit the ground. Jimin yelled out for you to stop but Jungkook stood above you, pretending to punch you since Jimin couldn't see which was your cue to bite down on the blood pill in your mouth. Jungkook was dragged off you and placed on the floor as Jimin began to lecture him about how much of an idiot he was, getting ready to hit his friend when you jumped up. 

"Now will you stop with the stupid pranks, before this really happens?" You gestured to the floor as Jimin's face ran pale realising all of it had been fake, he nodded before kissing your face softly relieved that you were okay.

TAEHYUNG:

You woke up from a nap to see Taehyung sitting above you with a panicked look on his face, you frowned wondering what was wrong when you suddenly felt something on your head. 

"B-Babe?" You questioned as your fingers graced over the piece of paper that was attached to your eyebrow, 

"Baby, don't overreact...I-I was going to prank you by "waxing" your eyebrow but I've accidentally put a real wax strip on." Taehyung's voice gave you all the sincerity you needed to know he was being serious and you let out a whine at the thought of having one eyebrow.

"You can just draw the other one on." He said as he tried to remind you that this was all going to be okay but you were up on your feet and staring at yourself in the mirror trying to come up with a way to take it off without taking the hairs out. 

"Here, the internet says to do this-" Taehyung spoke as he looked at his phone, you turned to look at him wondering what it was when he suddenly ripped the sheet off making you scream out. 

"BABE! MY EYEBROWS!" You yelled turning back to the mirror in a panic to see it was still sitting there fine while Taehyung died of laughter in the background.

"Oh it's on." You breathed out as you stared at him, 

"You want a prank war...You'll get one," You smirked at him, turning to leave the room to come up with some ideas to prank him back with.

JUNGKOOK: 

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you," The boys were all crowding around you as Jungkook bought a cake into the room, your age on the cake with sparklier candles as all of them sang together. 

"Happy birthday to Y/n, happy birthday to you!" They all chorused as the cake was placed down in front of you, you smiled happily as you saw an image of you and all seven of the guys sitting on top of the white cake, it looked like it was going to taste heavenly. 

"I want my face," Yoongi said as he watched you picking up the knife to cut into the cake with, Jungkook was watching with a smirk on his face the entire time while Namjoon set his phone to record. 

"Does everyone want their own face?" You questioned innocently not knowing that the cake wasn't a fake at all but that Jungkook had covered floral foam in icing to make it look real. 

"Sure," They all said together as you tried to stick the knife in, the smile fading from your lips as you thought maybe the cake had gone bad,

"Baby I can't cut it." You looked at Jungkook who told you to try again but when you did you heard a creaking noise and you knew why, 

"You're evil!" You whined as you stabbed the knife into the centre of the "cake" and wiggled it apart to see the green floral foam poking through you began pouting playfully while all the boys laughed. 

"Here baby, a real cake." Jungkook laughed as he placed a real cake down in front of you this time.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @taestannie @rjsmochii @kneel-begyourpardon @sw33tnight @sweeneyblue1​ @agustdjoon​ @jin-from-the-block​ @acciocriativity​ @mwitsmejk​ @justbangtanthingz​ @anxiousbobatea​

[alby-rei]

[Arthur Week, Day 3] Midnight Snacks

a/n: in which MC (ft. accomplice Dazai) wants to make the resident flirt, Arthur Conan Doyle, jealous. Why? Who knows! But what I do know is that it ends up working in his favor rather than MC’s... wait, what?

a/n 2: changed the title cuz it was bothering me xD nothing else changed.

My entry for @scummy-writes​‘s Arthur Week! 

Day 3: Coffee and Fudge || Writer’s Block

[Pairing]: Arthur x You/gn!MC, (pre-relationship)

[Characters]: You, Arthur, Dazai, Sebastian

[Word count]: ~2300 words

[Rating]: T

[POV]: 2nd Person 

“...and all of a sudden, I hear Mozart yell ‘stop releasing chickens in my music room!’ but Dazai didn’t even flinch!” You brought a foam-covered hand up to your mouth to cover your laughter.

You and Sebastian were cleaning the dishes together after lunch time. You’ve made it a habit to catch up on your day and share observations with Sebas, as pretty much no one steps into the kitchen around this time.

Well, that is except—

“_____~!”

Except Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, naturally. He must’ve finished his writing session and been wandering around the mansion, as is his trademark since your arrival.

You closed your eyes, hoping the man would walk past the kitchen without checking. You weren’t exactly in the mood for flirty games with the mystery writer, especially not after dealing with a haughty music teacher in Mozart. Sadly, luck was not on your side, today.

“I’ll tell you the rest later,” you wipe your hands with a towel. Picking up the tray of plates and cups to put them in their rightful places, you didn’t pay the writer any mind.

“After this I gotta find Dazai,” you said as you opened a cupboard. Your turned around to find Arthur leaning on the door frame, and your tone shifted dramatically, “Oh! Arthur, funny to see you here.”

Sebastian knew that tone very well. It was your sickeningly sweet voice that you dedicated to either (a) dodging conversation, or (b) planning something against that person.

“I’d say the same to you, ___, but you’re always in the kitchen. I couldn’t help dropping in to check on my favorite bird,” Arthur leaned against the door frame, flashing you a grin and a wink.

“Oh please, don’t talk about birds after what happened this morning,”  You caught sight of your target at the end of the hallway, “aaaand I have to go, see ya!” 

You duck under Arthur’s arm while his guard was down. He twirled around to follow you, but you evaded him, calling out to Dazai. Arthur stood in his tracks, as he watched the japanese author stop for you, and you beamed up at him.

“Dazai-san, I’ve been wanting to ask you for something, if you’re… free,” you noticed mid-sentence that the chicken that was still nestled in his arms.

“Hm?” His piercing yellow eyes brightened, “I’ll always have time for you, Toshiko-san.”

“Bawk!” The chicken… agreed, supposedly.

You laughed sheepishly, “That’s very sweet of you, I was actually interested in learning about your writing style and get some advice. I’ve been going through some terrible writer’s block.”

“I was working on a short story earlier, it’s in my room. Want to come with me?” He began to lead her towards his room.      

“I’m honored! I’d love to, Dazai-san.”

Oh yes, you were definitely planning something, Sebastian noted.

As the two of them walked away, Arthur stood glued watching the scene. Sebastian had been poking his arm the whole time, but he didn’t budge. Even shaking his entire arm didn’t spur any sudden movement from him.

“Sir Arthur. Earth to Sir Arthur,” Sebas continued tapping his shoulder and pinching his arm.

“Huh? Oh…” His gaze held an odd expression, one that Sebastian hadn’t seen from him before—a hint of sadness, maybe even frustration. But it was quickly replaced by his signature grin as he finally took notice of me, “Sorry, Sebas, I must’ve been blocking your path, got to go!”

And just like that, he scurried off.

After a moment’s pause, and after making sure the hallway was clear of esteemed residents, Sebastian did much the same, but in the opposite direction. He has notes to take, pronto. 

~*~

You and Dazai sat in the lounge room, having passed by his room, and Dazai collected his writing material.

“You have really pretty hands, Toshiko-san. I’ve heard you playing in Mo-kun’s piano room, you’re a wonderful pianist,” Dazai held your hand delicately in his, as he ran his thumb over your knuckles.

“Thank you, it’s something I take a lot of pride in,” your heart swelled from the warmth of his compliment, “but I’ve been much more interested with writing as of late. Actually, I’ve always wanted to write a novel.”

“Oh? I admire your ambition. How can I help?”      

“Well well well, what do we have here?” A third voice chimed in.

Right on time, as you expected.

“Have I interrupted your little rendezvous?” Arthur walked slowly and purposefully, as if he had caught them red-handed doing something they shouldn’t.

Internally, he was trying his best not to jump to conclusions. That would be uncharacteristic of him, after all. You weren’t tied to him in anyway, so there was no reason to feel so jealous that you went to Dazai for writing help instead of him. He didn’t even know about it!

So why was his heart pounding so loudly in his head while his eyes were fixated on their linked hands?

Dazai withdrew his hand, occupying it with his writing pen instead. He shot Arthur a smile with closed eyes.

“Of course not, we were just talking, Arty.”

“…Don’t call me that,” Arthur narrowed his eyes, “and second, I’d like to steal ____ now.”

“I’m sorry, Arthur, but I want to talk with Dazai a bit to improve my writing.”

Being shot down so directly caught Arthur off-guard; his insecurities getting a hold of him. For the first time, he found himself at a loss for ways to turn the conversation in his favor. At the moment, if he persisted, and you kept turning him down, he wouldn’t be able to let it down for the rest of the day.

Instead, Arthur straightened himself, fixing his tie, “Well then, I’m heading to the pub soon enough to find me a pretty skirt for the evening. Have fun, you two, I know I will.”

He huffed childishly, going out with a wave. Dazai turned to you with a polite smile.

“Do you think it worked?”

“Oh, he is definitely salty, thanks for agreeing to this, Dazai-san.”

“Any time, Yoshie-san, what are housemates for?” He smiled fondly at you.

“You’re a great actor, didn’t even flinch!”

“Ah, but who said I was acting?”

He got up with his writing tools and stepped out of the lounge before you registered what he said.

“Wait… what?!”

~*~

Later that evening…

…Well, more like around midnight, you just happened to catch the insomnia bug and were heading to the kitchen, as all people naturally do when they’re insomniac. You switched on the lights, thankful for the dimness of the lanterns in the kitchen. Scanning your options, your eyes settled on the coffee pot that sat quietly in the corner. Thoughts of a certain mystery writer gnawed at you, but you darted them away and walked past the coffee pot to get a glass of water instead. You leaned forward, filling her glass with bleary eyes that refused to slumber but also refused to open properly.  

Suddenly, you felt a touch to your backside. Eyes cracking wide open, you spun around and swung your makeshift weapon of glass at your offender. The offending mop of ash blue hair felt the full force of the blow, and the glass shattered across the floor.

Well crap.

“Ow… If I’m not mistaken, I’d say you were trying to kill me there, ____.”

For the love—.

“Arthur what the hell were you trying to pull?! Bloody hell! You made my heart drop.”

In a flash, his body was pressed against yours, caging you between his arms and the kitchen counter. The crunch of the glass under his shoes was the only sound in the room. You saw a small stream of blood start to fall by his ear.

“I was going to prepare myself a midnight snack with my coffee, but it seems I already found one ready for a taste test,” he licked the back of his fangs.

“At this hour??” It was well past midnight by now, and caffeine was the last thing you’d recommend anyone at this time. 

You felt his breath on your ear before he inhaled your scent. It was comforting to him as much as it was intoxicating to his senses.

He sighed, “____… I can’t get you out of my mind, no matter what I do.”

His arms circled around your waist, pulling you away from the countertop and flush against him, instead. All sorts of alarms were going off in your mind despite the drowsiness, with your instincts telling you to push him off.

“But then, you started avoiding me. And then… Sebastian and Mozart and even Dazai took you away from me,” he sniffled.

You pushed him off gently but still within his arms, as you stared at his face. There was a pink dust across his cheeks and a redness in the corners of his eyes.

“Arthur, are you… drunk?”

His frown flipped into a grin as he nuzzled his nose into your disheveled hair.

“Oh, don’t be silly, dear. I may have been out drinking, but I can bloody well hold my liquor. Theo can vouch for me on that.”

(a/n: no, he can’t lmao)

The sight of him in a somewhat vulnerable state, as well as the smell of his cologne, made it hard for you to properly fight him. Plus, you felt bad for crushing a glass cup on his head. Speaking of which…

“Is your head okay?”

“Hm…” He brought a gloved hand to his forehead, feeling a dull pounding in its wake, “I must say, you got me good, even the most daring fools never landed a hit on me yet.”

Just how thick is his skull to endure that?! You were both dazzled and frightened by their realization. 

With one of his arms off of you, you took this chance to escape, but you slid on a shard of glass and would have fallen face first onto the floor had Arthur not pulled you against him and taken the impact of the floor to his own shoulder. He laid on his back, clutching you protectively against his chest. He groaned with pain, but he pushed it aside to check on you first.

“Clumsy tonight, are we, or are you seriously trying to kill me?” He chuckled wryly.

Before you could even blink, you felt your vision do a 180-flip, and you were suddenly beneath him, away from the glass shards that littered the floor. The scent of his cologne flooded your senses again, as he smirked down on you with a drunken lopsided grin.

“I was absolutely livid when I saw Dazai hold your hand. Was that part of your plan, darling? Well, I’ve taken the bait.”

You flinched, your body wide awake to every touch and caress of this man. You bit your lip to avoid playing into his hands. You were still in control of the situation, you thought. His lips descended to your jaw, barely brushing your skin, like he’s testing your limits. Instinctively, you sighed, unaware of the breath you’d been holding.

Ok, maybe you weren’t entirely in control, either.

“Arthur…” You commanded, trying to regain some semblance of control back.

This was not part of your plan, however, and you were quickly losing grip of all reason and logic. You needed to get him off and away from you before you acquiesced to his ministrations.

“But don’t worry, ____. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

He drew back from you, staring down at you with an uncharacteristic tender look. He continued.

“The effect you have on me is not one I’ve felt with any woman I’ve ever encountered before. It’s confusing—maddening, even— and I can’t escape it… because I don’t want to,” he sighed in surrender, “I want you, ___.” 

It was a look of pure love and affection that shone in his eyes. His half-opened shirt invited your gaze to roam his body, and his thick-rimmed glasses framed his features in such an alluring glow that outshone the dimness of the kitchen. His hair looked softer than usual, too. Your hand twitched at the thought of running your fingers through those ash blue locks. Your mind was thrown into a whirlwind with the influx of new information, one that dented your rationality. Your desire to get closer to him wrestled against your impartial stoicism, threatening to crack the armor around the stone gates to your heart.

“Hey Arthur,” you started, twirling a lock of his hair with your hand. It was ever-so-slightly damp; he must’ve bathed in le thermae earlier.

“Yes, ____?”

Damn that seductive voice of his, you shooed away that thought as soon as it entered. You chose to focus on something much more pressing at the moment. 

“We need to get you bandaged up. You’re bleeding terribly from your head.”

~*~

It took a lot of convincing, but Arthur finally acquiesced to your persistent request.

“There, all done,” you stepped back from Arthur, who was sitting hunched over on his bed.

You were both settled in his room with his medical bag open on the desk and his equipment strewn all around. You didn’t exactly know what to do to treat Arthur’s wound, but you insisted on doing it for him… with copious amounts of instructions from him.

“I brought you some fresh coffee and fudge, as an apology.”

“At this hour?” He mimicked your tone from earlier. You rolled your eyes at his childishness.

“And here I am trying to make it up to you, and this is how you show gratitude?”

You huffed indignantly, ready to head out and leave the unappreciative writer to his own devices.

“Hold on, now,” he gripped your wrist before you could fully turn away, “you’re the one who smashed glass on my head, so you owe me a favor.”

“…a favor on top of tending to your wounds and bringing you coffee?”

“Oh, indulge me, won’t you? You did those of your own volition.”

You sigh, “Depends on the request, then.”

“Feed me,” he perked up with no hesitation or embarrassment in his tone.

You wanted to turn him down, to tease him about his child-like excitement, but you couldn’t resist his puppy dog eyes. Those eyes held a very powerful hold over you though you blame it on your own tiredness outweighing your better judgment.

“Alright…” You moved aside his things to sit next to him, leaning towards the table to drag the tray closer to yourself.

“Open wide, you incorrigible baby.”

[behindyourbarrette]

like you a latte - vanilla latte (with heart)

←previous | series masterlist | join my taglist | next part ->

pairing: spencer reid x reader

word count: 2k

warnings: none

a/n: another early drop because i am feeling so good about this! now we r getting somewhere!! i am so attached to these two it’s ridiculous. please, please PLEASE leave a comment, reblog, or give me feedback in any way you like!! i adore feeling like. the people who read actually interact w me/and the story :)

---

He comes in a few afternoons later, a little bashful.

You breathe a sigh of relief, noting the flush of color in his cheeks and the spark in his eyes. He looks better, and this settles something in your chest that has been sounding the alarm ever since you took him home. Luckily, the store is nearly empty. This conversation feels like it requires a little space.

“I’m sorry about the other day.” You sigh, tapping your fingers against the counter. Of course he’d apologize. While it’s good to see him clear-headed again, you wish he wouldn’t always be so transactional.

“Don’t even. You don’t have anything to apologize for.” You insist, pleading with him as he looks down at you. He looks far too sad to be someone seeking solace.

“I do, though. I shouldn’t have put you in that position.”

“Spencer, I can’t argue with you while I’m working. Let me clock out.” You tug your apron off, leaving a stunned Spencer behind as you change in the back. A few minutes pass before you emerge, your hair down and your bag slung over your shoulder.

You sit next to his usual seat, crossing your arms over your chest. He looks anxious, his mouth pinched into a tight line, eyes unwavering from you. 

“I meant what I said, you know.”

You look up at him. He’s different, up close. It occurs to you that you’ve never sat together, never shared a drink. You rack your brain for the interaction he’s referencing, until it hits you.

“About us being friends? Why would I think you didn’t mean it?” 

“You’ve acted differently since that day. I thought maybe I’d insulted you. You’re surprisingly difficult to read, you know. I thought you thought I sounded…I don’t know, disingenuous. And then I came in sick, and basically forced you to take care of me. I haven’t treated you very well. For a friend.”

You sigh. While Spencer Reid is arguably a genius, he can be utterly clueless sometimes. You hop out of your seat, crossing the bar to start two lattes. Spencer simply watches as you foam cream and pour it into espresso, your hands shaking as you attempt to draw a design. When the design is finished, you sprinkle cinnamon over the top. Handing it to him, you reignite the conversation. 

“Spencer, I’m not angry. You didn’t say anything wrong.”

He shakes his head, standing his ground. He’s taken to examining his coffee with a critical eye, turning the mug in his hands, and fear sparks in your chest. It’s now or never. 

“I’d take care of you again. Because I care. Don’t you see? I don’t do this for all of my customers. I don’t take everyone home and I don’t learn latte art so I can draw hearts for them. I’m a shitty barista, and I have a lot of regulars, you know.”

Something clicks. It’s miraculous, to watch it happen. A literal lightbulb goes off, and his eye meets yours.

“You’re not just being nice?”

You laugh, shaking your head. A slow blush is creeping onto his cheeks, pink tinting the tips of his ears.

“No, Spencer. I like you. I was just bummed that you friend-zoned me. I’m not this flirty with everyone.” You are surprised that you are able to vocalize this, even with your heart pounding against your ribcage. You suppose he makes you feel brave. 

“Really?”

A woman at the table across from you stifles her laugh with a cough, and you are too absorbed in the astonished expression on his face to care. He narrows his eyes, and leans forward like he’s about to argue with you. You exhale deeply, the heat in your cheeks fading as you brace for rejection. 

“Dozens of people come in here every day.”

A small smile forms on your lips. He’s clearly talking you—and himself—through this. His eyes flick up to meet yours and your stomach does a somersault. 

“Yeah, give or take.” You shrug nonchalantly, relishing in your calm amidst his intensity. 

“Literal dozens. It’s a popular coffee shop. You work most mornings. You make small talk with them, too. I’m terrible at small talk. I talk to you about literature and theory and human nature and everything else. It’s your job to listen to me.” His eyes are far too sad. You hope with all of your heart that he knows you listen to him not out of obligation, but genuine interest. He sits back in his chair, not quite looking at you, and you take this as your sign to pose your rebuttal. Lacing your fingers together, you lean forward.

“Untrue. It’s my job to make you coffee,” you say, pointedly eyeing his latte. “It’s not my job to listen to you.” He deflates a little, and you’re quick to resume.

“But I listen anyway. Because it’s you.” He perks up, and now his gaze is unflinching. You nod, both to him and yourself, and hide behind your mug.

“Out of everyone, you choose me?”

You are certain that nobody has ever been this forward with you while asking you out, but since when have you gravitated towards tradition?

“Every morning. It’s you, Spencer.”

To punctuate your point, you reach across the table and envelop his hand in yours. Germs be damned. He doesn’t move, a small grin widening across his face as he processes. 

“Why?”

You groan, burying your face in your hands.

“Spencer, if you could logic your way out of—” You don’t say love, not yet, because you feel that it is entirely too soon and it weakens your point. Spencer is red enough already; you want him to hear at least some of what you say. “this nobody would date, ever. I can’t explain it. I like you. I like that you teach me something new every day. I like that you try new things, and if it’s not selfish to say I think part of that is because of me. I like the way you look when you’re thinking critically and how you hold a coffee cup like it’s too small for you. I like the look on your face when you walk in and look for me. I look for you, too. I like you.” You pause to clear your throat. “A lot.” It’s becoming increasingly clear that you’ve just delivered a bit of a bombshell. Spencer’s grip on your hand has tightened into a squeeze, and he’s looking at you like finally, he understands. 

“I like you, too.” He says, once he registers the fear on your face. You feel yourself smile, a bit overdue, and watch as his expression turns into something triumphant and smug. “A lot.” he adds, and you resist the urge to reach over the table and smack him. 

“That’s all I get?” You ask, because you are feeling particularly daring. To your surprise, Spencer shakes his head, and leans forward. You’ve watched him go from confused to...emboldened, and this makes something in your chest spark with hopeful anticipation.

“There’s an espresso machine, at the office.” He says plainly, and you furrow your brow. He seems to note your confusion and springs into an explanation.

“Penelope—I drink so much coffee that she paid for a replacement in the break room, for my birthday. I haven’t used it in weeks. Everyone’s been asking why.” He shakes his head, a wistful smile on his face. “I can’t explain it either. I’m terrible with words. It’s just you. You drew a butterfly on my cup, the first time I came in. I was running late, and it was crowded. You smiled at me. I think I knew then.”

You sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, and you go over the conversation in your head. You can’t really blame him for failing to realize the latte art was meant to be a heart. While you’re good at many things, you’re not sure if making coffee is one of them. Spencer doesn’t seem to mind.

“I’m not sure how to do this. There’s no first step.” He stammers, when his cup is empty and he’s taken to staring at you from across the bar. It’s endearing, his speechlessness, and this newfound power spurs you forward. You grin, shrugging your shoulders.

“How about you ask me for my number?”

He nods, and you laugh again. Pulling out your phone, you’re delighted to learn that Spencer has exactly three apps on his. Luckily, he enters your number quickly, and adds an emoticon that you don’t recognize after your name.

It’s almost like pulling out his phone was a catalyst. He gets a phone call a few minutes later, after you’ve finished explaining all the instances in which you weren’t just being friendly, and yes, you really are interested. He takes it, his voice hushed as he listens to whoever’s on the other end. 

“I’m sorry. We have a case.” You nod, the smile on your face fading. He shoulders his satchel, looking at you with a new emotion in his eyes. A little bold, he straightens his spine.

“I’ll call you.”

“Call me when you land.”

You laugh as you speak in unison. Nodding, hands in your pockets, you confirm that you’ll call him. You wave him out, a small smile on your face as you watch his frame disappear into the street.

There’s something to look forward to, now. 

taglist <3

@everyonesfavoritepipecleaner @coldlilheart @idonotexiste @aberrant-annie @onyourfingertips @bakugouswh0r3 @uptowngotmedown @infinite-tides @chaosconcerns @littlewritersinspace​ @okivia @forever-not-gonna-sink​ @insert-gay-here​ @just-another-persona123​ @winniemjf @jammiebirch @thedancingnerdmermaid @the-chaotic-cow @briefgoateeking

*check visibility settings if tags don’t work

[touchstarvedsam]

Post-Red Meat cuddling, anyone?

Dean spends more time looking at Sam out of the corner of his eye than he spends looking at the road ever since they left the Urgent Care. Sam’s alive. He’s not dead on the floor of a cabin in the middle of the woods. He’s breathing, and whole, and finally gaining color back in his cheeks after the doctor cleaned up his bullet wound and sewed him up properly. Dean can breathe again, but he’s still shaken up. He was so scared when he came back and found Sam on the floor, no heartbeat, chest not rising and falling with every breath, lifeless.

He hated leaving Sam there, but he knew Sam wouldn’t want him to risk the lives of the people they saved just because he died. He knew Sam would never forgive him. But, god, if Sam had given him an ounce of proof that he was alive, a single breath, his pinky twitching, Dean would have stayed. Dean would have carried Sam on his back if he had to. He would have done anything to get Sam to safety. He hates admitting it, even to himself, but he would have left Michelle and Corbin on their own if Sam had given him one single gasp and they said it wouldn’t be worth it to take Sam.

His hands clench on the steering wheel, the leather squeaking in protest. There’s so much he wants to say, he just doesn’t have the words. They’re swimming around in his head and he has no net to catch them, no way to stop their flow so he could pull them out and let them leave his mouth. He wants to say he’s sorry, he wants to beg for forgiveness, but Sam isn’t blaming him and Dean hates that. Sam’s not mad that Dean left him in that cabin and Dean wants him to be.

Dean glances at Sam when he catches him moving out of the corner of his eye. He pulls a watermarked slip of paper out of his pocket and Dean doesn’t have to ask to know it’s a prescription. “Need meds?” he asks, going for nonchalant.

“Yeah, they prescribed me antibiotics to clear any possible infections, and meds for the pain.”

“Anything good?”

“Just, uh, Tylenol with codeine.”

“Man, that’s boring.” He’s trying for lighthearted while he waits for the pain to fade. His heart feels like it’s clenched in someone’s fist, keeping him on a leash with that pain, the feeling of loss cutting so deep he feels like he’s dying. “I’ll stop at the next pharmacy, we’ll get your meds, pick up some greasy diner food, and then kick back at the bunker, huh?”

He almost lost Sam today; he thought he did lose Sam today. And then Sam shows up, worse for wear, but alive, and saves Dean. The kid took down two werewolves after all that blood loss, drove himself to the Urgent Care with blurred vision and extreme pain, and saved Dean’s bacon from a newly turned werewolf. He can’t take much more action after that, not for awhile anyway. He just wants to sit with Sam and make sure the kid stays breathing.

“Sounds good,” Sam says, tucking the prescription paper back into his pocket. The rest of the ride is spent in silence. While Sam’s in the pharmacy dropping off his prescription, Dean’s picking up snacks and beer and whatever he loves that Sam doesn’t so he doesn’t have to share, but he does sneak in the healthy snacks Sam loves. He’ll deny later that he grabbed them on purpose.

They don’t speak when Dean runs into the diner to order their food -- a greasy two patty burger with extra onions and French fries for himself, and the biggest garden salad they’ve got for Sam -- and comes back out to Sam asleep in the passenger seat, slumped down, head resting on the back of the bench seat, tilted toward the driver’s side, where Dean would be. He opens the back door, puts the bag of food on the seat, and then shuts the door as quietly as he can in a car that’s not made with silence in mind.

When he slides back into the driver’s seat, he’s slow and careful not to shake the car too much. He’s caught off guard when he comes face to face with his little brother’s sleeping face. His little brother who he’d thought was dead not twelve hours ago. He closes his eyes to calm his breathing, to keep himself from touching Sam, from brushing the hair back from his face, then lets out a slow breath and settles in the seat and starts the car. He lets Sam sleep the rest of the way back to the bunker. He’d considered getting a hotel room and letting Sam rest there, but he thought Sam would feel safer in the comfort of the bunker. They both would.

Back at the bunker, he gently shakes Sam’s shoulder to wake him. Sam’s groggy, eyes foggy as they open and finally focus on Dean. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” Dean jokes. “C’mon, time to get you out of the tower.”

Tired, but still sassy as ever, Sam mumbles, “That’s Rapunzel,” but climbs out of the Impala on Dean’s side instead of his own. Dean helps him out, a hand on Sam’s forearm to keep him steady. Sam’s like a newborn fawn on his big, skinny legs, shaky like he’s never walked before. “I’m okay,” Sam says, but lets Dean help him anyway. Dean grabs the food from the back and they go inside.

Sam’s still exhausted by the time they finish eating so Dean helps him to his room. “Thanks,” Sam rasps. Dean opens his mouth again to say he’s sorry, to ask for forgiveness, to beg for Sam not to hate him for leaving him. He knows Sam doesn’t, and he knows Sam would never accept an apology, so he keeps his mouth shut. Sam’s big, warm hand lands on Dean’s shoulder, a comfort he doesn’t deserve. “Goodnight, Dean.”

“‘Night, Sammy.”

Sam drops his hand and shuts his door. Dean misses the warmth.

It isn’t until Dean’s lying in the darkness of his room staring at the ceiling that he makes his decision. He gets up and makes his way back to Sam’s room. He knows Sam’s asleep so he doesn’t bother knocking, just opens the door and shuts it quietly after he slips inside. It’s dark in Sam’s room but he knows his way around, and he knows what side Sam’s asleep on, so he climbs in the opposite side, carefully. Sam doesn’t have memory foam like Dean does -- he settled for a regular mattress -- so Dean has to be as gentle and slow as possible. Sam stirs, but doesn’t otherwise react. Once under the covers, Dean scoots closer and closer until he can feel Sam’s warmth under the sheets, and wraps an arm over Sam’s thin waist.

That’s when Sam startles.

“Wha--”

“Shh, Sammy,” Dean shushes him, gently running his palm over Sam’s tense side before squeezing his hip to still him. “I just needed to be close to you.”

“Thought you were gonna put a jacuzzi in here,” Sam mumbles, groggy, and it takes Dean a moment to get it, remembers saying he was going to throw Sam’s stuff away and put in a jacuzzi had Sam been dead.

Ever cool, calm, and collected in front of Sam, he replies, “Yeah, well, you ain’t dead yet so I can’t.”

They both go quiet in the stillness of the night, Dean’s arm snaking forward, palm spread wide as he coasts it over Sam’s trembling abdomen, up his chest, and back down again. Sam shivers but doesn’t complain. “How you feelin’, kiddo?” he whispers into Sam’s hair, nosing at the back of Sam’s neck. A tiny whimper falls from Sammy’s lips and Dean smiles against his hair.

“Tired, De,” Sam whispers, but his body wiggles back just slightly, until his back is just a hair’s breadth away from Dean’s chest. One breath from Dean and they’d touch. He closes his eyes, takes that leap, and breathes. His chest touches Sam’s back and he feels like he’s home. His arm tightens carefully around Sam’s waist and he pulls Sam flush against him, holding him tight but mindful of his stitches. They fall asleep like that, Sam in Dean’s arms, warm and safe, Dean content because his whole world is okay.

[ashasmonsters]

ah hello! i was wondering if i could request a lemon (( or a citrus, i don’t mind either one ! )) between a fish person — i’m talkin abe from hellboy d&d triton kind of fish person — and a fem!reader who appears intimidating but is quite jumpy? it’s okay if not, thank you!!

For the record, anon and future anons: if you're okay with a lemon, you're probably getting a lemon 😉. I hope you're satisfied with my version of a Mer; I saw The Shape of Water years ago, but hopefully my rendition is to your liking. Enjoy!

Del Toro M!Fishman x Intimidating Jumpy F!Reader - Lemon

The cove had been your secret hideout ever since you were little. Even now, decades later, the gentle crashing of the waves and the glimmer of the moon set your mind at ease. No matter what new problems or worries had arisen that day, the sea and sand were always the same… until a few months ago.

Though this region of the coast was allegedly frequented by Mer, you hadn’t seen much of them. One night, when the moon was naught but a sliver, something disturbed the sea foam. The tide was high, and the rocks you sat on had become islands. With your heart pounding, you drew your phone and turned on its flashlight.

The weak beam barely illuminated the wet rocks in the pitch darkness. Turning your head, you searched for the dark shape in the darker water. You weren’t sure what to expect. The crashing of waves mixed with the thrumming of your heartbeat.

Then, behind a rock only feet from you: dim red eyes, reflecting your phone’s flashlight and staring dead at you.

You flinched instinctively. The phone in your hand went flying. You jumped and caught yourself on the rock. Your phone didn’t stand a chance, the saltwater swallowing it up and extinguishing its light. You cursed and scrambled back to the shore. The adrenaline didn’t leave your veins until hours later.

When you returned to your usual spot (in broad daylight this time), you found a woven kelp pouch waiting for you, still wet and smelling strongly of the sea. Inside was a hefty sum of iridescent coins: currency of the Mer, minted from mollusk shells. It took traveling to a neighboring town to find a bank that would take them, but the sum equaled the exact market price of the phone you had lost to the sea.

A few days later, you learned your watery beneficiary was a Mer named Cato. He made himself known to you by breaching the surface a good distance away and sheepishly waving at you. You waved back, an awkward smile on your face. With how secret your cove had been, there was no doubt those eyes that spooked you belonged to him.

“You looked mad enough to kill me,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. Flowing, deep orange gill flaps started at his collarbone and ended behind his ears like a pleated ruff.

“Angry? I was spooked, but I wasn’t mad… not at you, anyway. We’re good now,” you explained, the two of you cross-legged on adjacent rocks.

“Well, good,” he looked at you and smiled, revealing welcoming rows of razor-sharp teeth. “I’m glad I was able to make it up to you.”

You simply smiled in response, allowing the ocean to speak over you. While he gazed at the distant harbor, you gazed at him. He, unsurprisingly, had a swimmer’s build: he was slender with muscles that caught your eye once you noticed them. His scales were so fine you assumed he was rubbery, like an octopus, until you saw him up close. Translucent fins protruded from his sinewy forearms and calves and caught the light like sea glass.

You shared the cove with him from then on. While the company of the sea and moon had been fine before, they didn’t have his sense of humor… or his smile. Or his body.

Mer didn’t wear clothes, obviously.

The first time he crawled up on a rock to sit next to you, the lack of dangly bits caught you off-guard; there was an understated slit there instead, and he didn’t seem to mind letting you see it. He never crossed his legs like you did in skirts, anyway.

One night, you sat together on a beach towel with a finished platter of sashimi and seaweed salad between you. The moon was full, his eyes shining the color of burning amber.

“Thanks for sharing the cove with me.” He placed his hand on yours, his claw tips gently raking your skin. You shivered.

“Thanks for being with me, Cato,” you whispered back. He closed the distance and pressed his forehead to yours, a substitute for kissing you two devised to work around his lack of lips and serrated teeth. You reached behind his head and gently stroked his gills, eliciting purrs from him.

“You’re going to destroy my modesty if you keep doing that,” he warned, a little playful and a little nervous.

“That’s okay,” you whispered back. True to his word, his slit had grown puffy and pronounced. In the moonlight, you saw one—no, two— pink protuberances begin to reveal themselves. Aside from their duplicity, each one seemed proportional to the rest of him once fully emerged.

“Can I touch you?”

“Please,” he said, his voice dry with the beginnings of a rasp. “Before I have to get back in the water.”

You reached between your bodies. He was desperate; you felt the slickness on his cocks and each touch made his hips jump. He always got this way when he spent time on land. You loved the urgency. He did too.

“I won’t keep you waiting, Cato,” you giggled, lying down on the beach towel as he kneeled between your knees. You hiked up your dress and pushed aside your underwear.

“Good, I’m—” you both gasped as one of his cocks entered you, “—pressed for time,” he grunted, his voice rough. His other slick rod nudged against your thigh. You grabbed it, holding it to your mound. As he slowly worked himself within you, the cock outside you ground into your clit. The feeling of fullness from inside and pressure from outside drew squeals from you into the night.

His pace quickened, making you gasp. The friction, the fullness; you felt the pleasure mounting already. His hands met yours atop the member outside you and pressed it into your sensitive nub even harder.

“Come on, I haven’t got all day,” he growled, panting and pumping, “you better be close!” You only cried out in response. His hips rocked into yours like his life depended on it. You pulled him deeper into you, desperate to reach your peak.

Your orgasm swept through you like a riptide. You ground yourself into him, your clit and mound sandwiched between his two cocks, crying out and clinging to his rod with your hands. He fell forward and braced himself against the ground as he came with a growl, his voice strained. You felt him pulse several times, his liquid warmth spreading within you and spurting hot streaks across your belly. You both caught your breaths together, your faces close.

“I’m sorry about the mess... let me clean you up,” Cato rasped, clearly exhausted.

“No, don’t. I don’t want you to dry up on my account,” you commanded, idly running a hand across his defined chest.

“I don’t…” he trailed off as you gave him a stare.

“Cato,” you said sternly. His eyes met yours. He looked sheepish and a little scared... like the first time you met.

“Fine, but I’ll be right back. I promise.” You closed your eyes as he pressed his forehead to yours. You felt him withdraw, followed by the sound of his feet walking to the surf. You knew he’d be back, but for the moment, you were once again alone with the moon and the tide.

[obsidiancreates]

The Wrong Realization (But A Welcome One)

4,012 words long

-----------------------------

Jonah wakes up with a headache like he’s got a hangover. He groans, putting his arm over his eyes as the dim light of his bedroom tries to burn out his retinas. Even with all of his thickest curtains closed and fastened together, the sunlight is still too harsh. Must be the way it’s reflecting off the snow.

He falls out of bed more so than gets out of bed, and lays on the floor for a moment. He reaches up to his nightstand and manages to pull down his phone, which bonks him on the temple on it’s way down. That gets him to wake up, with a shout and a dash of fight-or-flight response.

He sighs, rubbing his eyes. He doesn’t even feel very rested! Granted, he did stay up most of the night listening to a new podcast he discovered... fascinating stuff, wonderful deep-dives into mythologies and legends from all over the world. Something a little lighter to relax to than his usual political commentary go-tos.

He stands up, and scrolls through his playlist until he finds a good morning podcast. He heads into the bathroom, ready to grapple with his hair to get it nice and presentable-

He looks into the mirror and freezes up. His hair is perfect. Exactly how he always strives to get it to look, and always falls just one stray strand short of. But now? Not a flyaway in sight.

“I could have sworn I took a shower,” he mumbles to himself. Maybe he just forgot to use shampoo? No, he would never. Maybe too much conditioner, then. But he’s always so careful not to overuse...

“I guess it saves time,” he says aloud. “No looking a gift horse in the mouth.” He picks up his toothbrush and gets to scrubbing, but pauses when he feels something stringy in his mouth.

He spits out the toothpaste foam, expecting a hair.

Instead, it’s a scraping of plastic from his toothbrush, and several bristles.

He stares for a moment, and then opens his mouth. Does he have something completely alarming stuck in his teeth? Did he somehow eat something metal?

... No, not as far as he can see. Nothing is out of the ordinary. Absolutely nothing. Completely fine.

On an unrelated note, the two little cuts in his lower lip that are perfectly aligned with his canines are starting to sting from the mint, so he hurries up and finishes brushing his teeth.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun blinds him as he drives to work, and he has to manage mostly by listening to the traffic around him (which is absurdly loud today, he can hear it with his windows rolled up).

And the sunlight is harsh on his skin, too. Does he need to invest in better sunscreen? Maybe he should revisit that article he read about SPF effectiveness and how to choose the best one...

He gets into the parking lot and parks his car. He opens the door, and promptly slams it shut again with a yelp. His hands didn’t just feel burnt, it did burn!

Definitely needs to up his SPF! And research sudden sunlight sensitivity... his hand is bright pink.

He sits in the car for a moment, trying to figure out what to do. And then there’s a knock on his window. He startles, but relaxes when he sees it’s just Glenn. He rolls his window down just a bit. “Um, hi. Good-good morning, I mean.”

“Heyyyy, Jonah,” Glenn says with a smile. “So, um, I noticed you’re stuck in your car?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, no, I just um. Well you see I-I, um-”

“Need a hand?” Glenn’s smile is a bit strained, for some reason. “Because of the sun?”

“... Well I mean if-if you’re offering then it would be... rude to say no...”

Glenn opens up an umbrella, making Jonah shout in surprise. “Where did that-”

“Come on in under the shade!”

Jonah hesitates a moment, put off by Glenn’s... odd, energy. But he can’t stay in his car forever, so he gets out and walks in with Glenn under the safety of the umbrella.

“Thanks,” he says when they get inside. “I just um, I need to update my sunscreen, you know? And I just didn’t want to risk... my skin...”

“No, no, I completely get it,” Glenn assures. “The warm, life-giving rays of the sun can be very harsh sometimes!”

“... Y-yeah. Yeah.”

“Hey, um, Jerusha and I got you a gift, actually. She was so upset by the whole attack thing yesterday-”

“Oh, you guys didn't have to get me something-”

“Well, we wanted to, so um, here!”

Glenn hands Jonah a very, very wide-brimmed hat. There’s a little bat needle-pointed onto the sides. 

“Oh! Wow! Um, it’s... so big!”

“Maybe it’ll help until you update your sunscreen?” Glenn sounds hopeful. Too hopeful for Jonah to turn down. And... it would be functional, at least...

“Yes! Yes, I think this’ll be great for that, um, thank you! Thank you both, send Jerusha my-my thanks. For this. I can um, see she put some effort into customizing it! Just-just out of curiosity... why a bat?”

“Oh, well um, because of your situation.”

“... Situation, I don’t-”

“You know. The reason you burned?”

“... I still don’t understand-”

“HEYYYY, GUYS!” Amy butts in quite enthusiastically. “How’s it going this morning?”

“Oh, good!” Glenn says with a smile and a nod. “I was just giving Jonah this hat Jerusha made for him, because of his whole condition about being a vam-”

“OH HEY, Glenn, I actually really need your help with something!”

“Really?”

“Yes! Come over here, with me, to... softlines!”

“Oh, okay. I’ll talk with you later, Jonah!”

“Okay! Buh-”

Amy drags Glenn away, leaving Jonah with his hand up in an unfinished wave.

“... Bye. I-I was saying... bye.”

Jonah looks at the hat, and heads off to the breakroom.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So does Jonah have them?” Cheyenne is saying when Jonah enters the room.

“I mean, he looked like he did when he was chasing that lady-”

“Do I have what?”

Mateo and Cheyenne startle. “Oh, Jonah! We didn’t see you there! You were like... really, quiet,” Cheyenne says with a slightly strained smile.

“Yeah. So... sneaky.” Mateo looks similarly stressed.

“Well I, I did just get new ultra-soft shoes, very comfortable but I’m not sure about the long-term arch support... but um, what do I have?”

“Um... standards, for your fashion. Sometimes you have them, sometimes you don’t... usually only when you’re chasing, after... someone to flirt with.”

“Oh. ... You-you thought I was trying to flirt with that woman, last night?”

Cheyenne shrugs. “You did literally chase her into the parking lot.”

“I-I guess I did. But I wasn’t attracted to her I mean, I wasn’t attracted to any customers yesterday, even though there were a few good looking ones, that made me laugh... but-but I’m not- I mean, I wasn’t flirting with anyone-”

Jonah babbles on for a good five minutes before Glenn finally comes in and starts the meeting.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonah sighs and rubs his eyes as he mops up a puddle of... it’s either slushie vomit or watered-down blood (though he’s leaning towards slushie vomit, something in him just says it definitely isn’t blood).

He leans against the mop and closes his eyes for a moment. So tired... he felt okay this morning, but as the day creeps on he feels less and less awake...

“Excuse me?”

Jonah startles, yelping and dropping the mop. The customer jumps back as the mop drops.

“I am so sorry!” Jonah exclaims. “I um, I-I think I feel asleep, um, how can I-”

Jonah pauses, at a loss for words.

The customer, a man around Jonah’s age, looks concerned. “You alright, man?”

“Huh?” Jonah’s face feels hot (the first bit of warmth he’s felt in two days). “Oh, um, I-I just, that was very unprofessional of me.”

The customer shrugs. “It’s a Cloud 9, professional isn’t really expected.”

Jonah chuckles. He clears his throat. “So, um, how can-can I help you?”

“I was looking for the recycled paper towels?”

“Oh, yeah, um... let me help you find those. They’re only half recycled, though.”

“I know. But you do what you can on a budget, right?”

“Right, yeah,” Jonah laughs. He can’t stop looking at the guy’s face... why does he feel all jittery?

“Um, here we are. The closest Cloud 9 gets to activism.” Jonah sticks his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heels. His mouth feels dry. Why is his mouth so dry? He licks his lips quickly while the customer isn’t looking.

“Better than I’ve been doing lately. Haven’t done a protest in months.”

“What kind of protests do you go to?” Why did he say that? He’s going to embarrass himself, oh no-

“Mostly wage labor ones, workers rights kind of things. Trying to get a union going at my job.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, well, I know unions don’t have a great reputation in a lot of places but-”

“No! I mean uh, I love unions! I-I’ve been wanting one here since I started working! Just uh, don’t tell my boss that, hah.”

The customer smiles at Jonah, and Jonah wonders if the floor actually fell out from under him or if that’s all in his head.

“Well, thanks for helping me find this. Maybe we can talk about helping each other’s unions efforts if I see you again.”

“Yeah!” Jonah flashes a bright smile. “Sure! Sounds-sounds great! Um was really nice to meet you!”

The customer smiles again and walks away, and Jonah needs to lean against the isle.

He lets out a heavy breath, wondering what the hell is going on and what he is feeling. He looks down the isle to see if anyone is watching him.

Mateo, Cheyenne, Marcus, and Dina are all staring.

Jonah quickly walks away, shame burning his cheeks. So they noticed something, too.

“-looked like he was about to eat him alive-”

He’s too busy being completely embarrassed by hearing them whisper that to wonder how he just heard it from three isles away.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonah wakes up with a start as a cart rolls right over his leg. He shouts in pain and surprise, and then sighs at himself.

He peels the glue trap off of his face with a grimace. Cleaning the rat traps is a terrible time for his sudden and new case of what seems to be narcolepsy to strike. He sits up and rolls up his pant leg, expecting something nasty to greet him based on the crack he heard.

... Nothing. He frowns, and touches his leg. It doesn’t even sting.

“How did-”

“Jonah?”

Jonah looks up at Amy’s voice. She’s standing over him with a clipboard. “Oh, um... hi.”

“Hey. ... Why are you on the floor?”

“I was uh, cleaning the rat traps. And I... maybe fell asleep.”

“In the middle of the day?”

“... Yes...”

“Okay then. ... So um, I just... wanted to check in, for a minute. How’s it been going with customers?”

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean, have there been any... notable interactions, maybe, to throw an idea out there,” Amy says in her ‘I’m-hiding-the-real-reason-for-asking-this’ voice.

Jonah’s cheeks burn, and he’s sure he’s blushing. “They told you about that?”

“I... might’ve heard some gossip.”

“It-it was nothing, Amy. Really.”

“Are you sure? They said you keep looking at his neck-”

"Well I mean, he had a nice neck I-I guess but I was more looking at his face-”

“And that you licked your lips at him?”

“That-! My mouth was dry, and-and you know I hate chapped lips!”

“... And the hovering over him?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say hovering, more like just watching and... admiring... but that-that’s normal! I’ve been doing that since high school! A good ally normalizes these things, and-and when straight men, yeah, can admire other men in a-a completely! Normal way! Then it um, it helps... break down! The stereotypes!”

Amy looks... perplexed. She shakes her head. “Wait, what are we-”

“I mean, everyone does it, too! Like-like you! I’m sure you’ve looked at-at other woman, and admired their appearance, without feeling feelings for them, right?”

“Well, I guess, but- wait, Jonah, did you-”

“I mean we all wonder in college, right? But I don’t like, I mean there’s nothing wrong with liking both I just- I don’t, I wondered but I never-”

“Okay, um, this isn’t what I came over here to talk to you about-”

“Maybe there was a moment or two where I thought it might’ve been a thing but I-I never acted and if I did like both I would have acted on that, I think-”

“Okay! Um, you’re working through something right now, that is, not what I thought you were working through, so um, I’ll just check up on you later...”

Amy backs away as Jonah keeps recounting half-baked thoughts and unfinished sentences about his time in college and his roommates one friend who maybe had the best hair Jonah’s ever seen but their friendly hair-war was not flirting he swears...

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonah doesn’t chew the carrot, just rolls it in his teeth as he stares at the wall, lost in thought.

“... Not hungry for you lunch?” Sandra asks tentatively.

Jonah shakes his head, only half-hearing her.

“... Are you hungry for something else? Like... a customer?”

Jonah stops, and pulls the carrot out of his mouth. “You heard about that too?”

Sandra’s eyes widen, and she shakes her head.

“You did! Did- does everyone know about that?”

“Well, it-it’s been sort of, floating around-”

Jonah groans, putting his head in his hands.

“... So um... are you?”

“What? No! No, I am not hungry for him, that’s objectifying. Not that I- I mean, I’m a straight man, I can’t, objectify another man, because that implies attraction. ... Unless I’m playing into toxic masculinity stereotypes by believing that...”

“I don’t think you have to worry about falling into masculinity stereotypes,” Carol pipes up from another table.

Jonah looks at her, annoyed. Her eyes widen and she looks away. 

Jonah puts his head back into his hands. “This is a nightmare...”

“For all of us,” Sandra whispers.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonah sighs, slumping over onto the customer service counter. Garrett just looks at him, waiting for whatever Jonah has in store.

“... It normal for straight guys to admire other straight guys appearances, right?”

Garrett blinks. “Wow, just some casual conversation, huh?”

“Just- I mean, I know people are talking about-”

“You eyeing up that dude earlier like he was a steak?”

“... Yeah. That.”

“Dude, I don’t think this is the issue you should be focused on right now.”

“I know, I know! I’m in my thirties, I should have this figured out and be focusing on more important things-”

“Not what I meant, actually, I meant the superpowers-”

“-but I don’t know, I’ve never really had anyone point it out before! And-and now I can’t stop thinking like, am I? Attracted?”

“You know there’s nothing wrong if you are, right?”

“Yes, I do, I’ve been to a bunch of rallies and stuff.”

“Did you oogle dudes at those rallies?”

“NO! ... I mean I guess I observed and-and appreciated-”

“Yeah, you might just be on the gay spectrum, dude. I don’t know what else to tell you. Except that, uh, you just accidentally slapped my shoulder and you’re as cold as a bag of ice, so maybe that should be your crisis of the day.”

Jonah is staring off into space, rubbing his arm. It doesn’t seem like he heard Garrett at all. Garrett just sighs, and rolls away.

Jonah stays there, contemplating, for quite a while.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Okay, no more dancing around it.”

Jonah jerks awake. Again. God, why can’t he stay awake? ... Probably because he stayed up all night.

“No, Cheyenne.”

Jonah looks around. He peeks into the next isle, and then the next. 

... Where the hell are Cheyenne and Amy? He can hear them so clearly...

“He’s like, totally oblivious to it!”

“He’ll realize it eventually, okay? It’s not some truth bomb we can just drop on him.”

“My friends drop truth bombs on me all the time, and it just brings us closer. Best bitches don’t lie to their best bitches.”

“... Right. But, it’s kind of something for him to take the time to process.”

“What if he doesn’t? He’s just gonna like, wander around forever making excuses and being all nervous and confused.”

“Well... then we’ll give him a push. But for now let’s just... give him some space. Let him come to terms with it on his own.”

Jonah is startled out of his accidental eavesdropping by hearing himself sniffle. He quickly wipes his eyes, sticks his hands in his pockets, and hurries away. He still doesn’t know how he heard them, maybe some kind of really weird echo or sound tunnel. So he goes to the other side of the store entirely and finds the chattiest customer he can.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He can feel Dina and Mateo staring at him as he restocks softlines. They whisper to each other, and he sighs and hangs his head. “You know, it makes it worse when you talk behind my back.”

Mateo yelps a little. He clears his throat and quickly composes himself. “Sorry. Uh, we were just talking about-”

“Yeah, no, I know. I’m... aware, okay? And I just would like to stop hearing about it for now, please.”

Mateo looks taken aback by the tiredness in Jonah’s voice, the... weary tone. Dina, however...

“Yeah, well, not exactly something to brush under the rug.”

“Why do you even care? It’s a me problem, okay?”

“Really? You think this doesn’t impact everyone?”

“How! Would it even do that?!”

“Well, let’s see! It made Mateo afraid, it made Amy all somber and worried about you, it made Glenn cry even more than usual-”

“It did?”

“He started a trust fund for your soul.”

“... Oh.”

Dina stops, her frown slowly becoming more confused. “You... didn’t realize that would happen?”

“... I don’t know, I guess I thought... thought he’d be more open-minded.”

“Glenn?”

Jonah takes a deep breath. Ugh, why’d it make his chest hurt? Why do his lungs feel like they don’t want the air? 

The next thing he knows he’s done with softlines (it felt like he got done in the blink of an eye) and walking away. He swallows down the lump in his throat, and the urge to comfort eat. God, he’s craving a snack now. Well, he has all day, but he’s been... a little distracted.

“Excuse me? Hello? Hey!”

Jonah looks up at the customer, still feeling drained and empty.

“Finally, god. How useless do they let you people be around here? I’m looking for the shock collars, my dog keeps licking me when I tell him not to.”

“... That’s a really, really shitty thing to do to your dog.” Jonah doesn’t really mean to say it, but he’s just sort of on autopilot now.

For some reason, the customer doesn’t reply. Just stiffens.

“Follow me. I’ll sort you right out.” Jonah thinks he smiles at them. But he can’t be sure, because at that moment he blacks out.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonah shrugs his coat on, not looking anyone else in the eye as they all file out to clock out.

He waits until the very end, and clocks out last. Maybe he can avoid them all by waiting long enough?

Ugh, he can’t. He feels restless. Looking like another sleepless night already. Two in a row, great. Maybe that’s why he had that blackout. He still isn’t sure where the customer went, nor how he ended up in the No-Go zone of the Gardening Section...

Whatever. They were a jerk, anyway. Maybe he talked some sense into them? He did that during a blackout yesterday. Maybe it’s stress, then?

He keeps his head down as he thinks about it (trying to avoid some other, more introspective thoughts) and walks out.

He lifts his head as he exits the breakroom to find everyone standing in a group, smiling softly.

“Um... what’s going on?” He claps his hands behind his back. Please don’t let this be more teas-

“We know we’ve made you uncomfortable today,” Mateo pipes up. “And after talking to Garrett about your guys’s conversation, we realized we had the totally wrong idea about everything.”

Glenn steps forward and hugs Jonah. “I accept you no matter what,” he says firmly. “I would never start a fund to save your soul for being gay, that was a complete misunderstanding! You like whoever you like, Jonah!”

“And I didn’t mean to badger you,” Dina admits with her shoulder a little sunk. “I didn’t quite understand what you were going through in your head, and I made some assumptions. Wrong ones.”

“We all care about you, Jonah,” Amy says, prying Glenn off of the poor man. “Okay? We just want you to know that. Today we were being really, really shitty. But it won’t happen again.”

For the second time today, Jonah isn’t aware he’s crying until he hears himself sniffle.

“I just- I feel really, really stupid,” he admits, wiping his eyes with his palms. He laughs, not quite bitterly, but not happy. “I mean, I’m in my thirties. I-I had... so many obvious moments where I should have realized! How... oblivious, am I?”

There’s a bit of an awkward air to the group after that comment. But Amy hugs Jonah, and he feels a little... spark, in his chest. It’s nice. 

His chest has felt pretty heavy and empty all day.

“Everyone comes to terms with stuff at their own pace,” Amy says. “I lived in an unhappy marriage for years because I couldn’t accept the obvious. What matters is that you got to this point of realization, okay?”

Jonah hugs back. He thinks he feels Amy shiver, but he brushes past it. They pull apart, and Jonah sniffs and wipes his eyes again.

“And I um. I-I don’t think I’m... fully, gay,” he says slowly. He hesitates, mouth open, the words stuck. “I think... I think I’m Bi.”

There’s a moment of silence. He smiles a little, and stands a bit straighter. That feels... really right. “I think I’m Bi,” he repeats.

Sandra claps for a second, but no-one joins in. She lowers her hands slowly.

“Wow! Hah! That feels- wow! God, that feels good! Um,, what-what now, though?”

Garrett shrugs. “Flirt with some dudes? Some people in-between dudes and chicks? I don’t know, man, it’s your life.”

“Your long, long life,” Dina mutters to herself.

“Right! Oh, yeah, uh... that guy! From earlier! I-I think I want to see him again. Okay, uh, I’m going to go home, and-and maybe research some local protests he might be at-”

Everyone groans a little.

“Protester Jonah is the preachiest Jonah,” Garrett says, shaking his head.

“Can he still be preachy? Wouldn’t that hurt?” Cheyenne whispers to Glenn. 

Glenn shrugs. “I’ll ask Pastor Craig,” he whispers back.

Jonah doesn’t even notice. “Okay! I’m going to head home! I kinda feel like, I don’t know, like this is a whole new chapter in my life! Um, how do we- I mean how do- do we do a group hug, or-or maybe a high-five-”

“Or we just head home.”

“Yeah, no, Garrett’s right, head home. Let’s all head home!”

They all head out to their cars. Jonah gets into his, plops down into the drivers seat, and grins.

What a freeing realization! He doesn’t know how he missed it, it was all so obvious! 

Well, as far as he knows, there’s no other huge life-revelations waiting for him. He’s figured it all out, finally.

He starts driving home, humming along with the radio as the car next to him keeps pace, despite being in the faster lane. He never understands why people do that when the roads are empty. He chuckles to himself. Maybe he’ll realize that Life Mystery tomorrow.

What he doesn’t realize, neither when he gets home nor when he wakes the next morning, is that he never turned his own radio on.