#a few front & back shots of my latest build

[softsimulation]

casa alto apartments - built in 1932

the building was purchased by the alto group in 1976, they make an effort to maintain it sometimes.

[joelscurls]

stalemate

pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

words: 7.2k

summary: Frankie Morales is your best friend — until a drunken hookup tears you apart.

warnings: 18+ minors dni; friends -> enemies -> lovers, TF characters without the TF plot, no Tom (in this house we hate Tom), alcohol consumption, smoking, angst, jealousy, pining, Frankie & reader being idiots in love, explicit smut, size kink, brief mentions of drunk sex, bad / regretful sex (between reader & OC), oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, multiple orgasms, use of pet names (bebita, querida, baby, etc.), grilled cheese as a love language, happy ending, I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything!

a/n:  thank you so much to @javisashtray & @pedgito for beta-reading this for me <3 this is for all my frankie lovers out there (aka bitches with good taste). dividers are by cafekitsune. follow @joelscurlsupdates for fic notifications! enjoy :)

Frankie Morales makes the best grilled cheese you’ve ever had. Perfectly golden bread; gooey, melty cheese — just the thought of it makes you drool. He says he has a secret ingredient. Won’t let you in the kitchen while he cooks for you, lest you find out. 

Sometimes, upon entering his apartment, you can already smell melted butter. He’ll have started on one without even asking if you want it. He knows you always do. 

Sit, he’ll shout from the other room. I’ll be right there. Feel free to put something on — but please, not 13 Going on 30. You’ll thank him and question his distaste for Mark Ruffalo in the same breath: you’re the best, but it’s not my fault Matty is the dream man.

He’ll bring you the wafting plate along with a Corona, and insist that you eat before it goes cold while he makes one for himself. Ever the gentleman, ever the friend — at least he was.

Because the two of you haven’t spoken in a month; not since the drunken hookup that you’re both pretending didn’t happen.

You’d laughed the entire cab ride home from the bar. That last round of tequila shots had left you feeling good, all warm and giggly, and Frankie mirrored you in the backseat with his drunken grin. Eyes glassy, lips pulled wide, he’d smacked you lightly on the shoulder as you recalled Santiago’s pitiful loss in that third game of pool. “When he pocketed the eight-ball…” he trailed off into another fit of laughter. 

“And then—“ you attempted, voice caught in your throat as another giggle barreled out. “—the cue hitting his drink!” Your entire body folded over, hands braced on Frankie’s thighs as the two of you struggled to regain composure. Through labored breaths, you squealed. “He’s never going to live that down!”

After a few particularly stressful months at work, you lived for these nights out with your friends. You’d met Frankie through your best friend Mal, who was dating his friend Benny, and your circles had eventually meshed into one. Sometimes it felt like it had always been that way, like you’d known the guys your entire life.

Especially Frankie.

Your friendship was a special one — punctuated by frequent trips to the movies to watch the latest horrible slasher film; by nights spent yapping on the phone about nothing in particular. He’d become a constant in your life. Never, in your right mind, would you even dream of doing anything to jeopardize that— 

“You look really hot tonight, by the way.”

He shouldn’t have said that. He shouldn’t have. But then it was you who leaned in closer, you who rested your hand on his hip and plucked the Standard Heating Oil cap off his head, placing it atop your own.

It was you who kissed him first.

He deepened it though — that was all him — large, restless hands grasping at your sides, your back, your face; tongue pushing past the seam of your lips to press against yours. He’d groaned into your mouth when the cab stopped at the curb in front of your building. Cursed under his breath when you pulled away.

And then, your voice ragged and breathless, you’d asked, “do you want to come in for a bit?”

It was a mistake. A horrible, blissful mistake. Waking up with sticky thighs and Frankie’s thumbprint bruised into your hip, you’d found his side of the bed cold; your inbox empty. He hadn’t called, hadn’t texted. Still hasn’t.

The aftermath is cursory glances. Half-assed greetings and pleasantries murmured across the bar. Which you don’t mind, really. You don’t want to speak to him. He’d probably just feed you some lie about losing track of time, not remembering what happened that night.

You wish you could forget it.

The visual is fuzzy; fleeting. But his voice — god, his voice — it still rings in your ears, drips at the nape of your neck like a leaking tap: fuck, baby, knew you’d take my cock; feel so good wrapped around me.

Your friends don’t know. They can’t; they wouldn’t let you live it down. Benny has made plenty of offhand comments already about you and Frankie being perfect for each other, having the same stubborn disposition. Mal does nothing to shut him up. Instead, she encourages him. Tells him he’s so right. 

You’re pretty sure your eyeballs are going to fall out someday from glaring too hard.

Because you’re not perfect for each other — far from it, actually. Fuck, you can’t even communicate effectively. How could you ever be in a real relationship? 

Not that you want that. Frankie is…well, Frankie. Sure, he’d felt undeniably incredible on top of you, inside of you — but he isn’t the type to settle down. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever heard Frankie talk about dating. 

Besides, he’s clearly not interested in being anyone’s anything right now. Not even your friend. 

It hurts; cuts deeper than you care to admit. Just weeks ago, you’d spent an entire weekend at his place, marathoning the X Files and gorging on cold pizza. Now, he won’t even look your way for more than a few seconds. 

Won’t make you a fucking grilled cheese.

It’s a Friday night, which means you’re meeting your friends at Sid’s. The glow of neon seeping through the windows of the old dive bar is warm and inviting as you step out of your rideshare and make your way toward the doors.

Frankie is sitting at the bar with Santiago when you enter. Hunched shoulders, narrowed eyes trained on his bottle of Corona, he appears detached from whatever Santi is saying to him. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you stroll up to them — not until his friend’s hand lands hard on his back, pulling his attention away from the beer. He offers a half-assed hello and an even more half-assed half-hug, and then he’s sliding back onto his barstool. 

Ever-oblivious, Santiago doesn’t seem to notice the way Frankie curls in on himself; the way your back is up like an agitated cat’s.

Mal and Benny turn up minutes later, immediately ordering a round of shots for the group. You down the liquor eagerly, not bothering to lean on salt and lime to numb the sting. You want to feel it. You order another before joining Mal and the guys at a pool table in the back, letting the acid slide down your throat with no more than a wince as Santi racks the balls.

“Alright Fish, you’re up,” he says. “Me and you. Whoever loses buys the next round.”

You watch as Frankie quirks a brow at him. Takes a swig of his beer. “You sure you want to make that bet, Pope?”

Santi grins; nods confidently. “Hell yeah, I do.” The rest of you don’t bother to suppress your laughter. You catch a glimpse of Frankie, head thrown back, his broad, glistening neck exposed, and you have to fight to ignore the sudden panging in your chest.

When Santi inevitably loses, you order a vodka soda. You’re already feeling a bit tipsy after two shots in less than twenty minutes, so the drink goes down smooth; quick. There’s a rush to your head as you settle back at the bar and fiddle with the wrapper to your straw, letting the slightly soggy paper roll between two fingers.

You barely notice when Frankie slots in a few seats down, your attention drawn only when you hear his voice. It’s deep — sounds just like it did when he had his chest pressed to your back in the dim light of your bedroom — and his intonation nearly gives you whiplash. 

When you snap your head up to look at him, you find he’s speaking to a woman. Her back is turned to you, long, dark hair tossed over her shoulder and her elbow resting casually on the bartop, but you imagine she must be beautiful by the way Frankie is visibly fawning over her. You’re staring, you hear her tease. Can’t help it, comes his reply.

Something like discomfort builds in your throat. Rises up up up. You take a long sip of your drink, letting vodka and sugar push it down. 

You’ve never seen Frankie flirt with anyone, apart from you. It’s strangely unsettling, listening to him smooth-talk her. I’m a pilot, you know, he brags; could take you up in the sky someday if you wanted. Her giddy squeal comes seconds later; really? You’d do that for me?

You feel bad for her. She doesn’t know yet that all he’ll do is disappoint her.

He feeds her lines as you sip on your drink, citrus and grain burning only when he tells her: yeah, I came with friends; they’re all over there. Gestures toward Benny, Mal and Santi standing around the pool table in the back.

Scoffing, you stand from your seat at the bar and retreat to the patio. You don’t bother to check if Frankie is looking. 

It’s cooler here, a sobering breeze carrying salt air with it as it wafts by. A few patrons have spilled outside, most smoking on faintly glowing cigarettes as they talk and laugh boisterously among themselves. You’d planned to sit alone, to plant yourself on a bench and enjoy your drink in solitude. But then a stranger is approaching you — a man, cigarette grasped between two of his fingers — and he’s asking you for a light.

He’s in his mid thirties, if you had to guess. Curly, dark hair sprouts every which way from his scalp; rounded, green eyes studying you as he awaits a response. He’s tall, though not as tall as Frankie.  His shoulders aren’t nearly as broad and his chest isn’t quite as wide. His t-shirt hangs loose around his torso, swallowing his narrow frame — dissimilar to the way Frankie’s button-down clings to him. 

Then again — why are you even comparing? Maybe the opposite of Frankie is exactly what you need. 

You’ll have to seduce this stranger first, though. Not that it seems like it’ll be very difficult. His eyes are already raking over you, lips turned up at the corner as you take a casual sip of your drink.

“I don’t smoke,” you admit apologetically. 

“Ah — that’s alright.” 

He has an accent; midwestern, maybe? You don’t bother to ask. You don’t care, really. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is—

“You here all by yourself?”

“Yeah,” he laughs at your lack of subtlety. “Are you?”

“No,” you say. “My friends are inside.” Lowering your voice, you add, “but I was thinking about leaving soon.”

“Why’s that? Early morning tomorrow?”

You shake your head. Rub at your neck as if working out a knot, a contented hum pushing past your lips at the press of fingers into skin. Your stranger’s eyes trail rather conspicuously downward.

“Just over it,” you sigh exasperatedly. “I’d much rather be home…in bed…out of these clothes.”

You pull gently at the strap of your dress, as if you can’t bear the sensation of it against your shoulder any longer.

Your stranger’s gaze darkens, and the grip on his box of cigarettes grows tighter.

“You uh — want some company — once I find a light?”

Too fucking easy.

“Sure,” you giggle.

He slips away only for a minute or two, giving you just enough time to second-guess yourself. You know nothing about this man, not even his name; only that he smokes American Spirits and smells like tobacco. Should you really go home with him? 

But then you think of Frankie inside  — talking up a woman at the bar, pretending that you don’t exist — and that just about makes up your mind for you.

Your stranger reappears, now-lit cigarette dangling from his lips. The tip of it rages red and angry, and you think you know how that feels.

He smirks at you as he stuffs the pack into the front pocket of his jeans. An unceremonious silence hangs in the air as he sucks on the filter and puffs out a string of smoke. You wait patiently for him, quietly. 

He snuffs the butt of his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray. Takes your empty cup and discards that too. 

Can’t wait to get you home, he whispers in your ear then. You feign arousal, peering up at him and batting your eyelashes. Me neither, you mewl. Let’s go.

You lead him back through the bar, finding Mal and letting her know that you’ll be going. She seems a little perplexed, quirking a brow at you as you grip tightly onto your stranger’s arm, but she tells you to have fun anyway. Text me, she mouths as you make your way to the exit.

You only get a few feet, though, before you’re intercepted.

Frankie is blocking the door, arms crossed, a panic-stricken look on his face that you can’t quite comprehend. “Hey,” he says, “can I talk to you real quick?”

Your stranger backs off. Lets go of your arm and starts out the door. “I’ll wait outside,” he says, slipping away with a wink before you can protest.

The bar is bustling with noise, people in every corner drinking and laughing and dancing. Strangely, though, you’ve never felt so alone. So vulnerable. And you hate that Frankie has this power over you, the innate ability to make you feel so fucking small. It’s infuriating, it’s—

“Are you sure you want to leave with him?”

“Excuse me?” you scoff. 

Frankie stares you down, face red, eyes inky-black. “You don’t know this guy, do you? What if he’s a murderer or something? Or like — a pervert?” 

He’s grasping at straws, you know it. It’s why you laugh; roll your eyes. 

“What are you, my keeper?”

“No, it’s just — I’m just concerned for your safety, okay?”

You’re briefly stunned. After weeks of ignoring you, he cares about your wellbeing? How can he be so hypocritical?

“I’m fine,” you bite back. “Why don’t you go back to your girl at the bar? Worry about getting yourself some instead?”

He’s wounded, if only slightly. His lips part like he might retaliate, but he’s silent. Dejected. Satisfied, you brush past him. March out the door without so much as a parting glance.

Finding your stranger leaning against the bar’s brick exterior, you force a smile. He outstretches a hand and you take it, reluctantly. “Ready to go?” he asks. 

You’re not so sure anymore, but you nod anyway. Squeeze your stranger’s bicep and preen under his lustful gaze when he tenses in your grip. “Yeah,” you purr. “I’m ready.”

Cold air bites at your toes the following morning. It wakes you from a deep slumber; bitterly pulls you into consciousness. Confused, you yank at the covers. But a mysterious weight holds them in place, and only then do you remember then that you’re not alone. 

Eyes sliding open reluctantly, you scan the room. Your dress from the night before is draped over the chair in the corner, your stranger’s clothes piled up on the floor nearby. He snores next to you, an arm raising to hang above his head, and you shift. Slip out of bed and pull a t-shirt on before padding into the bathroom.

Early morning light spills across tile, bounces off the mirror above the sink. You squint, shuffling over to the window and yanking the blinds closed. Then you check for damage in your reflection. Your makeup from the night before has stained your cheeks and your eyes look as tired as you feel, but otherwise there appears to be no physical evidence of your rock bottom.

The sex wasn’t great — not even good, really. Your stranger had lasted all of three minutes, had fanned his hot breath across the shell of your ear as he came, and then collapsed on top of you. Rolled over and drifted to sleep. He’d started snoring before you could even process what had just happened.

Cold water splashed across your cheeks does nothing to cool the burn of regret that scorches your skin. You feel uncomfortable, almost as if your body is tainted, now, remnants of your stranger leaking from between your thighs as you steady yourself at the edge of the sink. 

He must’ve heard the tap, or maybe the pounding in your chest, because he emerges seconds later. He yawns and stretches, feline-like, in the doorway. “Hey,” he mutters. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good,” you say, eyes twitching slightly as you will them to stay put above his waistline. 

“You always up this early?”

You nod. It’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that you’d nearly jumped out of bed at the sight of him still there. He doesn’t need to know that for a split second, you’d almost hoped it was Frankie.

He asks if you want to get breakfast. You shake your head in faux-sympathy. “Sorry, can’t. I was hoping to get some cleaning done.”

“I could stick around and help,” he offers. 

Jesus Christ. Just take the fucking hint.

“That’s so nice of you; I’m just more efficient by myself,” you lie again. 

If Frankie were here, he’d grab the cleaning rags out of the closet just off the kitchen. He knows where they’re kept: second shelf, on the left. He’d wipe down the counters and the coffee table while you’d work on clearing dishes, disposing of pizza scraps. And he’d probably put on his dad-rock playlist — against your wishes — though you’d inevitably find yourself dancing to Foo Fighters and giggling when he’d sing along and mess up the words.

It begins to sink in then, as you shoo your stranger, now dressed, out the door, that your attempt to use sex as a way to get Frankie out of your head was useless. He’s still there, refusing quite adamantly to budge, all mussed curls and big eyes and deep voice. There’s no evidence that he’ll be leaving any time soon.

The revelation renders you nauseous. You spend the rest of the day with a hangover that you’re sure has not been induced by alcohol. And by the time night falls, darkness descending over your bedroom like a fog, you still feel sick.

A week later, you drag yourself to Benny and Mal’s for their monthly game night. You’d tried to get out of it, told Mal you haven’t been feeling great — which isn't a total lie — but she’d begged you until you broke. 

Will is coming, and it’ll be the first time we’ve all gotten together in over a year, she’d whined through the receiver. 

And then-

I know things were weird between you and Frankie last time at the bar, but you can’t let that stop us from seeing each other.

How do you know that, you’d asked, chewing on your bottom lip, the phone tucked between your ear and your shoulder.

He basically moped around the rest of the night after you left. Kept bitching about you leaving with that guy. He seemed really…agitated. You don’t have to tell me what happened, just please don’t bail.

So you’re here, steeling yourself as you climb the steps to the front door, hoping that if nothing else, you can make it through the night without strangling Frankie for his lack of discretion. 

You enter the house with baited breath.

Your eyes immediately catch Frankie, tucked into the corner of the sectional, fingers wrapped tightly around his beer. He meets your gaze briefly before letting it slip to the floor by his feet, as if he’s trying to pretend he hasn’t seen you at all. 

“Hi,” you try.

He looks back up at you, or rather past you. Taps his fingers along the bottle for a long moment. “Hey,” he says finally, to the wall behind your head.

“How have you been?” the words come out forced, almost foreign. You shift your weight awkwardly and he sighs. 

“Fine. I’m fine.” 

“Right,” you mutter. More silence. “Me too, in case you were wondering.”

“Good,” he says, voice cold. “That’s good.”

You’re not sure whether you want to slap him or kiss him. Because as infuriating as he’s being right now, he looks gorgeous, denim shirt hugging his biceps, his shoulders; stray curls peaking out from under that stupid Standard Heating Oil hat. You yearn to rip it off his head, run your fingers through his hair, nip along the sharp line of his jaw; the broad expanse of his neck.

You long to feel something other than the prominent ache that’s permeated your body for weeks, now. And you fear that he’s the only one who’d be able to alleviate it.

Your mouth opens again just as Benny emerges from the kitchen. Whatever words you were about to utter are lost in the ether as he pulls you into a suffocating hug and thanks you for coming. 

“Mal’s in the kitchen,” he says. Grabs a handful of Lays from a bowl on the coffee table and shovels them into his mouth. Still chewing, he adds, “we got those wine coolers you like; they’re in the fridge.”

With a hurried thanks, you slip away unscathed.

You find Mal crouched in front of the open fridge, rustling through a produce drawer stocked with beer cans. 

“Hey,” you announce. 

She seems almost surprised to see you when she cranes her neck toward your voice, despite your promise to show. Eyebrows raised, mouth slightly agape, it’s as if she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. She pulls another drawer open. Fishes out a wine cooler and passes it to you with an outstretched arm. 

You take it in one hand. Help her up with the other. 

“You’re here,” she says, and it sounds like more of a question than a statement. 

“Yeah. I said I would be.”

“I know, I know. It’s just — I wasn’t sure. The whole Frankie thing…” 

“It’s nothing; I promise,” you lie. “Water under the bridge. We’re fine.”

She quirks a brow at you, disbelief coloring her features, but she lets it go. Closes the fridge with a thunk and adjusts her sweater at the hem. “Good,” she says. “I don’t want you two ruining game night.”

It’s half a joke, but you know deep down she means it. She takes this all very seriously. Back in college, she’d forced you and your suitemates to play Cards Against Humanity with her every weekend. None of you had the heart to tell her when it started to grow monotonous, and so the tradition carried on well past graduation, eventually evolving into a new tradition with new friends.

Games bring people together, she’d said once over a round of Monopoly that had stretched well into the night, resulting in delirious laughter and a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest.

You’d believed her at the time. Now, you’re not so sure that it’s foolproof.

The two of you rejoin the guys in the living room, Santiago and Will having shown up in your absence. You greet them as Benny pulls out a stack of game boxes. Settle on the couch, as far away from Frankie as you can manage.

It starts during the second round of Charades. 

The first round had gone fine — good, even. Teamed up with Santi and Will, you’d avoided eye contact with Frankie for the whole of it. Focused only on guessing Santi’s horribly-mimed clues in between handfuls of trail mix and sips of watermelon-flavored bubbles.

It’d felt a bit like old times, all of you in one room again. Mal snuggling into Benny on the loveseat; Will catching his brother up on time spent touring the country, giving motivational speeches to recently discharged veterans. He’d asked you how you’ve been as Santi studied his next word, and you’d remembered then that everything was very much not how it once was.

And you hadn’t missed Frankie’s discomfort at the question; the way he set his beer bottle down on the table with a bit too much force, glass clanging against wood. Though if Will noticed too, he hadn’t said anything. Just moved into a story about some woman he met on the road that reminded him of you.

Santi’s turn had ended with a whopping zero points for your team, and now Frankie is standing at the front of the room, unfolding the scrap of paper in his hand and reading it to himself. In the lull, you find yourself staring at him, eyes near glazing over at the sight of the tiny paper pinched between long, thick fingers. Fingers you remember the reach of, the weight of. 

He crumples the paper and stuffs it into his pocket, signaling that he’s ready to go. Mal flips over the sand timer on the table. And you almost don’t notice at first when he starts, mind occupied by equal parts lust and annoyance, that he’s fucking mouthing the phrase.

You watch, enraged, as Benny squints to read his lips. He raises his hand excitedly and jumps to his feet; yells out the answer with a sureness that Frankie affirms with a nod. 

“That’s right. It’s the Empire State Building.”

“That’s fucking cheating!” you shout, a bit angrier than the situation calls for, and the room grows quiet. Fury coursing through you, you add, “are you fucking serious, Frankie?”

You feel the eyes on you; the awkward sheen you’ve cast over the room. Mal shifts across from you, glaring when you turn to face her, and you laugh defensively. 

“What, nobody else thinks that’s unfair?”

“Please,” Frankie sneers. 

“No, she’s right,” Santi tries — ever the peacemaker. “We’ll just add a rule going forward; no mouthing the words.”

“Fuck that,” you hiss. “I want their point taken away.”

Frankie scoffs from the other side of the room. “Bullshit! We earned that before the rule was added.”

You’re fuming now, standing to get a bit closer to his height; though he still towers over you. Mal is right on your heels, placing a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to placate you. You brush her off. Take another stride toward Frankie.

“There shouldn’t need to be an official rule against it, Frankie. It’s common fucking sense — which clearly, you have none of.”

Visibly offended, he says nothing. Just tenses his jaw.

“Why did you come tonight?” you continue, voice more level now; direct. 

You hear your name uttered behind you, tone pleading, warning. You ignore it. 

“Seriously, why?”

He’s quiet for a long, drawn-out moment, eyes pointed at the floor again.  

“What are you talking about?” he spits, finally. 

You laugh, amused and irritated, and these things somehow feel one in the same. “I mean, clearly you don’t want to be in my presence or even acknowledge my existence — unless it’s to cockblock me — so why are you here?”

His brows furrow; lips twist. For a second, you think he might actually leave. He adjusts his cap, jangles the car key in his pocket — but Benny stops him before he can take a step.

“Just — cut it out, okay? Both of you.”

“He’s the one-“

“I don’t care,” Benny interjects. Scanning the room, you catch sight of Santi and Will and Mal, all visibly agitated, and you sigh.

Guilt washes over you, then. The twisting of Santi’s face, Mal’s doleful stare, the wordless look exchanged between Benny and Will. All confirm your fear that you’ve effectively ruined their night. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. 

Frankie echoes your apology. Still, the others aren’t impressed. 

“I don’t know what’s been going on lately with you two, but you need to figure this shit out,” Benny says. He sounds like a parent: stern and slightly disappointed. “Can you please just — go in the other room and talk through it?”

Though you haven’t much cared for Frankie’s opinion as of late, you still turn to him to gauge his reaction. He appears just as hesitant as you are, just as guilt-stricken. But something more lurks behind his eyes — something like fear, anxiety. Why, you aren’t sure.

You raise a brow at him, a wordless question. He answers with a sigh. 

“Fine,” you both say at once.

“Thank goodness,” Mal chimes. Herding you two like cattle with a hand on each of your backs, she leads you out of the living room and into the adjoining hallway. 

Her voice drones behind you as you make your way toward the third door on the right. Shall we continue the game?

The guest room is primly kept. It appears almost untouched at first glance, though you know that to be untrue. You’ve stayed here before, after blurry nights spent drinking shitty gin and singing karaoke. That must’ve been years ago now, though, after Mal and Benny first bought this house, and you begin to wonder if your tumultuous friendship with Frankie only made you neglect your friendship with her. And that only adds to the anger stirring inside of you — because what was it all worth, if it’s ended up like this?

Frankie closes the door behind him with a click, and the air in the room feels exponentially thicker. 

“What the fuck was that?” you hiss. 

He scoffs. “Me? You’re the one who freaked out and started an argument over nothing!”

“It wasn’t nothing. You were cheating.”

“Please.” He rolls his eyes. Takes two steps toward you. “That’s not what this is about and you know it.”

“Oh,” you laugh, “so you are aware that you’ve been an asshole?”

He says your name, voice suddenly lower, softer. Your entire body tenses as you struggle to keep strong, to not think about how it sounded in your ear in the midst of pleasure.

“I wasn’t trying to be-”

You throw a hand up; silence him. “Well you have been,” you groan. “You’ve been a huge fucking asshole. You hurt me, Frankie. You were my best friend, and then you just… stopped returning my texts. You won’t even look at me when we’re in the same room together. Did you regret it that much?”

The room goes still. You watch as Frankie’s chest rises and falls arduously, his eyes settling on you. They’re dark, pupils blown wide, squeezing shut as he exhales long and hard.

“No.”

You quirk a brow at him, confused.

“No?”

“No,” he repeats, averting his gaze. “And that’s the problem — I didn’t regret it at all.” His eyes lift slowly, finding you again, voice more sure when he adds, “I’ve wanted it for a long time”

You can barely comprehend what he’s saying, your heart climbing its way out of your ribcage and up your throat. You gulp, feeling the shape of it there as saliva slowly slides past. 

He takes another two steps forward, mere inches from you now, and your breath hitches.

“Do you know how difficult it’s been to look at you without getting fucking hard?” he whispers. “How many times I’ve fucked my fist in the past month imagining it was you?”

Your mouth falls open, stunned. “That girl at the bar-”

He shakes his head. “I thought maybe if I fucked someone else, it would help.”

“And did it?”

“I didn’t — I didn’t go home with her,” he admits, a little bashfully. “I couldn’t do it.” 

His hand lifts, then, cautious and shaky. It finds its way to your face, grazes your jaw so softly you’d think you imagined it if you couldn’t see.

“Why not?” you squeak.

He nods, as if he’s finally accepting something he’s known to be true, admitting it to himself before he does so out loud.

“Because she wasn’t you.”

It feels as if your entire world has spun on its axis. 

Without thinking, you wrap your hand around Frankie’s neck and pull him toward you, crashing your lips into his with a groan. He’s quick to respond, desperately tangling his fingers in your hair and winding his tongue around yours, a broken moan slipping from his throat. 

For a long moment, that’s all it is. It’s clashing teeth and restless hands; the draw of blood and the taste of it, earthy and metallic on your tongue. It’s the two of you, reconciling for lost time and unshared feelings and the overlooked need for each other through tangled bodies. 

And when you finally pull apart, his lips are swollen and his eyes are glazed over, and you’re sure you don’t look much different.

“Frankie,” you whine as his mouth latches to your neck, warm and wet. He doesn’t retreat; just hums against you. 

“Need you,” you say breathlessly. “Need you to touch me.”

His large hand skates down your front, under the waistband of your leggings. He presses two fingers against your clothed clit, and your knees buckle. You lean into him, bracing yourself with a hand on his chest as he begins rubbing small, deliberate circles into cotton. 

Lips trailing up to your ear, he nibbles at the lobe. Presses his tongue just behind the shell of it and sighs. “Been wanting this since that night. Want to make you feel good. Want to do it right.”

You mewl in response, high-pitched and too loud, and you have to bite into his shoulder to keep from crying out again. He’s still working you toward the brink, pace relentless, beseeching you every time you buck into his hand. 

There you go baby, that’s it; I got you. 

You know he does, can feel the support of his unoccupied hand at the small of your back, holding you to his strong body. And god, how you’ve missed the feeling of it pressed to yours. You think that that alone could make you come.

You feel yourself slipping as your orgasm approaches, legs slumping underneath you more and more with every pass of his fingers. “Frankie,” you warn, teeth still anchored in his skin. “I’m going to-“

The words are muffled, but he gets it. Presses down harder and works his fingers faster. “Come on baby,” he growls in your ear, “come on.”

Your orgasm hits you so hard that you collapse, your body dead weight in Frankie’s grip as you writhe. He grasps onto you tightly, working you through it with his unyielding touch, swiping back and forth, back and forth as the final waves crest. 

You’re panting when it ends, and still when Frankie helps you to the edge of the bed. Perched there, staring up at him with glassy eyes, you realize you’ve never felt so sated and so needy at the same time.

“Frankie?”

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Please fuck me.”

He should probably say no. After all, you’re in your friends’ guest room, people just a few hundred feet on the other side of the door. But then again, he’s already made you come.

You watch him consider it, eyes flickering to the door and back to you, dark and deep and pooling with want. 

In the end, he can’t help himself.

“Can you be quiet, querida?” 

You nod, though you’re sure that even if you said no, he wouldn’t care. He’d do just as he’s doing now: pressing your shoulder, encouraging you to lay down on the bed; helping you pull your sneakers off, then your leggings, then your shirt; stepping back to marvel at your half-naked form before him. 

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, and your entire body heats from the inside out. You feel like you’re on fire, his stare keeping you alight as he undresses down to his boxers.

He climbs over you with a hand on either side of your head, pressed into the mattress. The lip of his hat bumps you, and you immediately rip it off of him, tossing it aside and tangling your fingers in dark curls. 

You tug at them, dragging him down until his face is hovering just above yours, and he responds with a strangled moan. His body pressed to yours now, you can feel the weight of his hard cock against your clothed pussy. Your mouth finds his again in a languid kiss — slow and deep. You feed each other sighs and moans, taste each other’s longing. His hips roll into yours with every exhale, teasing you — reminding you, and you feel like you’re steadily going insane.

He pulls back, panting. Rests his forehead on yours.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, plucking at the strap of your bra. You nod furiously. Lift the upper half of your body so that he can undo the clasps.

Breasts suddenly exposed, you feel your nipples begin to harden. Frankie groans at the sight of them, so pert and needing. Wordlessly, he dips his head, buries his face in your chest. His tongue wraps around one of your nipples and you cry out, hand flying to your mouth in an instant. 

“Oh fuck,” you moan into your palm.

“Feel good?” he asks, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he shifts his focus to the other nipple. You feel so sensitive everywhere, the heft of his tongue going straight to your clit, and you can barely answer him. A shaky yes tumbles from your mouth — the best you can do. He hums, so low the vibrations burrow under your skin and barrel through you, and you keen at the sensation.

“God, you sound so pretty,” he sighs as he rolls one of your stiff peaks between two fingers. His other hand drifts down your body, dips between the two of you and pulls your panties aside. 

“Fuck,” he curses, fingertip brushing over your seam just barely. “You’re soaked, bebita. That all for me?”

“Mhm,” you whine. “All for you Frankie; fuck-“

He’s shifts down your body, hooks both arms under your legs and drags you toward him in one swift motion, leaving you no time to process before his tongue is on your pussy. “Have to taste you,” he babbles drunkenly, plunging into your leaking cunt and lapping at you.

“Oh, oh shit,” you moan as he drags his tongue up to your clit. “Please baby, please.”

“I know; I got you,” he soothes. Then he begins to lave your clit with the soft flat of his tongue, warm muscle encircling the throbbing nub. Wide eyes staring up at you, he observes intently. Responds to every sound, every tell with a switch in direction or an increase in pressure. He’s so attentive, so desperate to make you come on his mouth, and it sends you into a sort of delirium. 

Your second orgasm hits you out of nowhere, slams through your body with so much intensity, you don’t even have the strength to warn Frankie before your release is gushing all over his face and, undoubtedly, the bed below. 

He growls against your cunt. Comes up for air and kisses you hard, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he tugs his boxers down and frees his aching cock. Notches at your entrance without detaching his lips from yours.

It’s a stretch — you recall it being so last time too — though the alcohol had done wonders to loosen your body. Now, you feel every devastating inch of him as he pushes in. He’s gentle. Tells you how good you’re doing as he feeds you more and more of his cock. There you go, that’s my girl, taking it so well for me. And for some reason, him calling you his nearly makes you come again. 

He notices the way you preen in response. Thumbs across the slope of your jaw as he settles inside you. “You like that, baby? Like me calling you mine?”

“Yes, Frankie — fuck. Want it.”

You don’t specify whether you mean him or his cock. You’re not entirely sure. Not that it matters. You know he’ll give you both, give you anything. Can feel it in the way he gazes at you through heart-shaped eyes as he lets you adjust to him.

 “So fucking beautiful, you know that?”

Your eyes roll back and saliva pools in your mouth. “God,” you breathe.

“I’m serious,” he says, finally beginning to move. The slow drag of his cock brushes your g-spot and you gasp. “Was so stupid before, fucking you drunk. Wanna remember every second, every noise you make, every inch of your perfect fucking body.”

“Jesus, Frankie.”

He pushes back in with one deep thrust. Sets a pace that, while not rough, definitely isn’t gentle. You begin to babble and writhe under him. Hook your legs around him so he can get even deeper.

He groans. “Tell me how it feels, baby.”

“It’s so fucking good,” you cry. “Feels like fucking heaven, Frankie.”

“Nah, that’s you.” He lets his head fall on your shoulder, drives into you faster. Pants into the crook of your neck. “Perfect fucking pussy.” 

It ends all too quickly — with your fingernails dug into his back and his sweaty curls sticking to your forehead. Your cunt clenching around his cock, pulling his orgasm out of him just as yours begins to roll through you. You free fall from the cliff’s edge together, breathless moans spilling between your slotted mouths, his warmth flooding you and leaking from the place you’re still connected.

As the room around you slowly comes back into focus, you hear the sound of distant laughter. Benny’s boisterous chuckle and Mal’s much softer one. Clearly distracted, they’re likely blissfully unaware of what’s just happened. You giggle, covering your face as Frankie pulls out.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, prying your hands away. 

“We’re gonna have to get them a new bedspread. We just defiled this one.”

He stands, then, pulling you upright with him. You squeal as blood rushes to your head and your vision goes staticky. 

“Worth it,” he smirks. Gives you a chaste kiss. “Got my girl back.”

You dress and rejoin the group as inconspicuously as possible. Pray they don’t notice the way you’re wobbling on your feet, or the sheen of sweat that’s coated your skin. 

“You sort everything out?” Santi smirks knowingly as you reassume your place on the couch, Frankie settling back into the corner.

“Yeah,” he mutters, refusing to make eye contact. 

“It’s about time,” Benny shouts from the kitchen. Frankie’s head shoots up, pivots toward his voice.

“What do you mean?”

He emerges in the doorway with a shit-eating grin. Mal stifles a laugh from the loveseat.

“Just saying it’s about time,” he shrugs. “That’s all.” 

Shit; apparently you hadn’t been as quiet as you thought.

The others chuckle as you and Frankie exchange a mortified look. The embarrassment is short lived though, Will clapping his hands together, asking what game you all want to play next.

An hour later, after a couple rounds of Codenames and another wine cooler, you head out the door with Frankie right beside you. It feels odd, not hiding anymore. But more so, it feels right. 

He leans you against your SUV under silver moonlight. Kisses you with plush, soft lips against yours; restless hands roving up your sides. Pulls back with a suspiciously large grin.

You cock an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says. “Just glad I stopped being an idiot.”

“I don’t know about that,” you tease, and he smacks you gently on the arm.

“Come over?” he asks, his hand draped over your waist. 

You think on it for only a second. Nod. “Yeah. As long as you make me a grilled cheese.”

“That can be arranged.” 

end notes: thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider commenting and/or reblogging :)

[dragonmurray]

Poisoned Truth

Loki x female reader

Triggers - smut, 18+, mild angst

Description - hydra had poisoned the team with a love drug. What will you do when you’re the only one without a lover?

————

You were screwed. No two ways about it. Death was coming for you. The irony in that phrase.

A simple mission with the Avengers turned out to be a trap set by Hydra. Tony, Nat, Clint and you headed over to a warehouse thinking you would be collecting some valuable intel on the latest leader to step up in Hydra. It was too late when Tony detected the gas in the building, you were all infected.

The flight back in the jet was spent scanning, researching, testing everything possible to work out what they had poisoned you with, but 5 minutes in to the flight you were starting to realise.

Tony was desperate to get to Pepper, Nat to Bruce, and Clint to his wife. Desperate with need. Overwhelming, soul crushing need. From the little Tony could gather the Hydra drug would drive them to madness, boil them from the inside out unless they found their completion with the one they love.

Hydra were placing their bets on no Avenger being able to find true love. They would lose that bet, for the most part.

You however? Agent y/n l/n? You had no such love. Not that anyone knew anyway. You made it back to the tower, the others running to their loved ones for some life saving alone time. You slowly stumbled back to your room, a thin veil of sweat starting to cover your body. Alone.

You closed the door to your room and sank down to the floor. A weird kind of acceptance seeping in to your brain. So this is how it would end. Thwarted by the one enemy you could never defeat, love and orgasms. How poetic. You weren’t a virgin, you’d had your share of partners, but every one a disappointment. No man had ever taken the time to learn your body, to relish in your pleasure instead of their own. You’d never known pleasure from another.

An ache in your core starter and your mind drifted to the man you had dared to hope would have changed that. A secret hope he could never know of. He, a God, could never lower himself to the standards of a mortal. Sure you spent most of your free time together. Reading, playing tricks on each other to pass the time. You were one of the few to get him to open up and on some occasions, laugh. But he was also quick to tell you of his lineage, his power, his birthright.

You were just y/n. A basic mortal with some killer fighting skills. Nothing more.

A knock on your door had you jumping and groaning at the same time as the heat flared in your body.

“Agent?” Loki called “agent you need to let me in”

“Go away Loki, you can’t be near me. You can’t see this. It’s fine just go” you replied. Keeping your voice as flat as possible in the hope he wouldn’t care enough to stay.

“We both know that’s not true. I’ve seen, and heard the other return. I know something is very wrong now let me in” Loki sounded aggravated. So he wanted to know what happened, good for him, he can read about it later you thought.

Shivers were starting to run down your spine. His proximity not helping your situation. You may not be ready to admit your feelings for the god, but clearly your body knew. It was getting harder to form coherent thoughts so you didn’t bother to respond to him. Resting your head back on the door you closed your eyes as pain started to deep in to your limbs.

“Agent!” An urgent voice right in front of you. You open your eyes to see Loki knelt in front of you, his eyes taking in the sight of you. Dazed, hot, your breathing increased.

“How, how are you here Loki?” Tony restricted his magic in the compound while he earned his place in society.

“My dear y/n. If you think there is anywhere in the nine realms I couldn’t reach to get to you, you are so very mistaken” he reached a hand forward to cup your face.

“NO!” You shot up and tried to back across your room, anywhere to get some distance from him. His proximity was sending your body into overdrive. Your mind couldn’t comprehend his words. Was this the drug? Making you see and hear things? “Loki you can’t be here. The mission went wrong. Hydra, drugged us. It’s bad. I can’t… you can’t…” your eyes fluttered and your legs faltered as a wave of heat came from your core.

In a second Loki was beside you, catching you as you fell. You cried out as his body made contact with yours. Part pain, part desperate need. Loki couldn’t wait any longer, his palm touched your forehead and he dove in to your memories. A sigh escaped him as he realised why you were trying to escape him.

“Y/n, I am here. You have nothing to fear. It would be my honour to stay with you, foolish mortal” a smile tugged his lips “I will not stop until you are cured, and I can’t guarantee I will after that either”

Your eyes fluttered open as you tried to take in his words. “I…” that was all he allowed before his lips crashed in to yours. I’m an instant heat burned through you with the power of a thousand suns. No pain, just need and fulfilment. This is what you needed. He is what you needed.

A moan escaped your lips as fingers caress your scalp, tugging your head to align you more perfectly with his mouth. His sinful, achingly beautiful mouth. You could come apart right now. A tiny voice in the back of your barely functioning mind started to whisper dark thoughts, telling you this wouldn’t work. No one else has managed to pleasure you fully, you’re broken.

Loki couldn’t sense your hesitation. He needed to silence it. After months of yearning, never daring to risk their treasured friendship, he finally had you. Upon seeing the state of the other avengers on their return he knew he had to find you. He couldn’t lose you.

His mouth left yours and blazed a trail down your neck, stopping to nip and suck at your pulse point, pulling a ragged moan from your throat and silencing all voices in your head. Your fingers dove in to his hair and pulled him closer. Still half collapsed in to each other on the floor he picked you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist and ground in to him as moans spilled from your lips. Loki intended to lay you on the bed but it was too much for him. He slammed you in to the wall, teeth latching on to your neck as his hand found your hardened nipple beneath your suit and rolled it between his thumb and finger.

You cried out, core tightening as you felt yourself close to cumming already. Gods how you wanted him, needed him. You had never felt like this before. He groaned as his hips rocked in to you. “Gods y/n, you feel perfect against me. I need to touch every part of you, taste all of you” with a wave of his hand your clothes melted from your body. “Perfection” he said as he looked down at you, still wrapped round his waist. Your head back and eyes closed in pure bliss. The pink tint to your skin brought him back to reality, he needed to save you.

His hands gripped you tightly as he spun round and placed you on the edge of the bed. With no time to think about your new position he dove between your thighs, mouth latching on to your clit and sucking hard. The force of it slammed in to your nerves and had you screaming out, back arched in pure pleasure. You had never felt anything close to this before, even from your own hands. His attack on your clit didn’t let up as he slid 2 fingers into your pussy, curling to find your spot and pumping relentlessly. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breath, not enough air in your lungs to even scream out as an orgasm ripped through your body with enough force to bend your backwards.

When you finally came down you gasped for air. Your foggy brain trying to work out what happened, how it happened. Blinking back to reality you looked down at Loki still sat between your legs looking at you with awe in his eyes.

“How… how did you do that? Is it the drug?” You asked.

He looked at you confused. “I’m unsure what you mean Y/n. Has no one done this to you before?”.

You shook your head. “Not like that, no one’s ever made me cum Loki” you looked away and started to try to cover yourself from embarrassment. He took your hands to stop you. As he did another wave of heat started to build, the drug wasn’t done with you yet. You whimpered and Loki realised your pain.

“Mortal men cannot comprehend the goddess that you are Agent. It seems you have been waiting for me for far too long…”. He climbed up your body, his hand sliding into your hair and…..

And I’m a really mean writer! Do I carry on?!

[winchesterwild78]

Whiskey Kisses and Broken Promises

Story Warnings: mention of masturbation, drinking, cheating, unprotected sexual contact (cover it up guys), oral sex (female receiving), fluff

Minors DNI 18+

A/N: this story came to me when I was listening to Lips of an Angel by Hinder. I do not mean any disrespect to Jensen or his wife. This is a work of fiction and in NO WAY depicts real events. I adore Jensen and respect him. That being said please enjoy my latest story. Not sure if this is just a quick story or if I’m making this into a series.

All work is my own, please don’t take it or copy it. This was written and edited fast. Please over look any errors.

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

You sat at the bar sipping a fruity drink. You didn’t want to get drunk you just needed something to take the edge off. Your husband and you were drifting apart and no matter what you did nothing helped. You were heartbroken and frustrated. It had been months if not longer since he called you beautiful or made love to you. You were constantly building up his confidence while yours fell. Anytime you tried to initiate sex he shot you down.

Tonight when you brought it up he told you that you were mistaken. He knew he had complimented you last week when you made a delicious dinner. “I told you thank you and dinner was delicious. How is that not a compliment” he asked. You looked at him with tears in your eyes. “Complimenting my cooking is not the same thing as complimenting me.” You said softly. “What about sex. You haven’t touched me in months.” You said crying. “Well I can’t help I’m not as young as I used to be. Besides some times it’s just easier to masturbate than to have sex.” He said. You let out an audible sob. You grabbed your jacket and purse and headed for the door. “I’m going out for a while. I’ll be back later. I need to clear my head” you said as you walked out the door.

You got to your car and just cried. A few minutes later you composed yourself and drove to a local hotel. You parked and went inside. You headed straight for the bar. You and your friends frequently went to this bar because you knew the bartender and it was a better atmosphere than some club. You walked in and Philip the bartender saw you. He motioned you over and you sat at the end of the bar.

“Hey y/n, you okay” he asked placing a napkin in front of you. “No. We are drifting apart and I don’t know how much fight I have left in me” you said as a tear slipped out. He grabbed your hand and rubbed it. “I’m sorry. I wish I could shake him to wake him up.” Philip said. “Let me get your drink” he said.

So here you were. Sitting at the bar sipping your drink and thinking about your marriage falling apart. You were too busy in your head to see anyone else in the bar. Philip would come over checking on you every few minutes but mostly he left you alone. The bar seemed pretty busy for a weeknight.

You were lost in thought when you heard a deep voice next to you. “This seat taken” the gruff voiced asked. Without looking up you shook your head no. You were still consumed with your thoughts you didn’t pay attention to the man beside you. Philip walked up and said “what can I get you” asking the stranger. “Just a whiskey thank you” he said. His voice sounded familiar so you looked up. There sitting next to you was Jensen Ackles. Your heart stopped beating and a lump formed in your throat. You had been a fan for years and wow he was even more gorgeous in person. He made eye contact and you quickly looked away.

Philip walked back over with his whiskey and looked at you. “Hey y/n, you want another drink” he asked. “Yes please, thank you Philip.” You said meeting his gaze. He took your hand and said “you’re welcome sweetheart. It’ll all work out. He’s a fool” then he walked away.

You sat in silence playing with your glass. You felt the heat coming from Jensen’s body. You smelled his cologne mixed with the whiskey on his breath and it was driving your senses wild. You took a chance and looked at him. He met your eyes and smiled. He tipped his head toward you. You gave him a soft smile. You wanted to look away but his eyes were so mesmerizing you couldn’t. You didn’t notice Philip sit your drink down.

Jensen smiled and extended his hand. “Hello. I’m Jensen and you are” he said. “Oh um, I know who you are. I’ve been a fan for years. Oh I’m y/n. Nice to meet you” you said almost fainting as you touched him.

“So what brings you here tonight drinking alone” he asked you taking his glass in his hand. You watched him as the glass went to his lips. His mouth parted and his tongue teased the side of the glass. Whiskey slowly poured into his mouth and you couldn’t help but swallow hard.

God why does he have to look so sexy. What I wouldn’t give to be that glass. Just one second on his lips. Feeling his breath on mine, his lips, tongue and those hands on my body. Snap out of it. You’re married and so is he.

“Um, excuse me” you said getting up and heading to the bathroom. You went into the stall and tried to steady your breath. You’re just craving connection and he’s been a crush for decades. You’re just projecting your desire for intimacy on him. Stop it! You yelled at yourself. You walked out of the stall, washed your face and walked back to the bar.

“Everything okay, darling” he asked when you sat down. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just going through some things” you said looking at him. He offered you that killer smile and he said “me too”. “So what brings you here” you asked him. “Oh just had to get away for a bit. I got in my car and just drove. I pulled over here to get some rest and a drink.” He said lifting his empty glass. Philip walked over and asked if he wanted another. Jensen said yes and Philip came back with another glass of whiskey. He was watching the two of you interact and smiled.

Jensen’s phone buzzed. He rolled his eyes but answered it. You tried not to listen but you couldn’t help it. “No, I needed to get away Dee. I told you I can’t do this anymore. I’m tired of banging my head on the ceiling and anytime I bring up things bothering me you throw in my face how I’m gone all the time. You knew I was going to be gone filming a lot. I’ve tried to stay home as much as I can. But when I’m there you disappear and when I try to initiate sex you blow me off. I love you, Dee. I just don’t think I’m in love with you anymore.” He said before hanging up the phone.

Tears pricked your eyes. His world was falling apart too and all you wanted to do was to help him. You thought they had a solid marriage. Your heart broke for him. A few minutes of silence passed between the two of you before he apologized for the phone call. “It’s okay. I’m sorry you’re having a hard time too. I hope everything works out for you and her.” You said offering him a smile.

He touched your hand and said “thank you, but I know it’s over. You know in your heart when you’ve reached the end of a relationship.” He looked at you with hurt in his eyes. “I know. I’m there too. It’s heart breaking and scary. My marriage is over but I’ve fought so hard to save it. He has no interest in saving it” you said as tears fell “well, he’s a fool for not wanting to stay with you” Jensen said wiping a tear from your cheek. Without thinking you leaned into his touch.

Philip walked over and you paid your tab. You felt your body responding to Jensen’s touch and you needed to get away. You knew it was wrong. Even though he said his marriage was over and yours was too, you were both married. Jensen downed his whiskey and paid his tab too. As he stood so did you. You both walked towards the lobby. “It was nice meeting you Y/N, I hope to see you around sometime.” Jensen said. “You too, Jensen. I wish you nothing but the best.” You both stood there for a minute before he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on your lips. His lips were soft and his hot breath sent a chill through your body. You pulled away touching your lips. They were on fire.

Before either of you could truly comprehend what was happening, Jensen pulled you by the hand into the elevator. Once the door closed he pressed you against the wall pinning your hands above your head and his lips captured yours in a deep needy kiss. You moaned into his mouth as his tongue swept across your lips asking for entrance. You parted your lips and he deepened the kiss. Your tongues fighting for dominance. His kiss tasted like whiskey and mint. It was intoxicating and made you weak.

Once the elevator door opened he had you by the hand leading you to his room. He opened the door and led you in. As he pushed you into the door he pushed the door shut. His hands were roaming your body and you both were panting. His lips were trailing down your jaw and onto your neck. He nibbled and you moaned loudly. God this man felt amazing. Jensen pulled you off the door and spun you around to the bed. He laid you down and pulled his shirt off over his head. Revealing his toned chest. You sat up and pulled your shirt off revealing your bra covered breasts. Jensen bit his lip and started to unbutton his pants.

You were watching every move he made and you felt your body respond to him. He slid his pants down and he stood in front of you in his boxers. You could see the outline of his slightly hard cock and you bit your lip. From what you could see he was big. The anticipation made you wet. He helped take your pants off and left you in your bra and panties. “You’re absolutely beautiful sweetheart” he said looking over your body. You blushed and gave him a gentle smile.

You leaned up on your elbows and he unhooked your bra freeing your large supple breasts to him. He groaned as he took his hands and grabbed your bare breasts. He took your lips in his and kissed you down to your breasts. As he took one nipple in his mouth he pinched the other causing a moan from your mouth. He kissed down your body to your panty line. He hooked his fingers in the waistband and looked at you. You shook your head yes giving him permission to remove them.

He stood and removed his boxers and you finally saw his length. God he was huge. You bit your lip and felt your body tingle with anticipation. Jensen positioned himself between your legs and kissed up your thighs. He took his fingers and parted your folds feeling how wet you were for him. He placed a soft kiss on your clit. You squirmed under his touch. His hot breath rushing over your wet folds. He inserted two fingers hooking them up as he attacked your clit. You moved into his touch. Running your fingers in his hair pushing him into you. God he knew what he was doing. You felt your orgasm coming.

“Jensen I’m going to cum” you said breathlessly. He lifted his head “cum for me y/n. Cum on my tongue.” That’s all it took. You came hard and as you came Jensen lapped up your juices like a starved man. He helped you ride out your orgasm before he got up. He positioned himself in between your legs and pumped his length a few times before lining it up with your entrance. He waited until you were ready. You nodded and moved your hips.

He slowly pushed in your dripping wet pussy. His length and girth was so big. You’d never had someone so big. He pushed in waiting to allow you time to adjust to his size. The way you felt was a mixture of pain and pleasure. He was halfway in and you moved your hips. “Move Jensen. I want to feel all of you” you said. Jensen pushed in all the way bottoming out. You both gasped and he leaned his forehead against yours. He stayed still for a minute then he started to move his hips.

You wrapped your legs around him and pushed into him. He set a steady pace pushing in and out of you. The sounds of flesh hitting flesh and moans filled the room. Jensen was getting close. You could feel his thrusts getting faster as he chased his release. As he came he leaned down and captured your lips. Kissing you passionately and deeply. You felt his seed coat your walls. He kissed you again before he got up to grab a washcloth to clean you both up. Once you were both clean he threw the washcloth in the floor and crawled back in bed with you.

You laid in each other’s arms knowing what you both did was wrong, but you both wanted, no needed it. Jensen was rubbing his fingers up and down your arm. You had your head and hand on his chest. Hearing his heartbeat and its steady rhythm made you yearn for him. “Jensen, I want you to know I don’t regret this. You were amazing and I feel peaceful and incredibly happy.” You said rubbing his chest. “I don’t regret this either y/n, you made me feel wanted and needed. I haven’t felt that in a very long time.” Jensen tilted your head up and kissed you again. His lips were soft and needy. He deepened the kiss and you moaned in his mouth.

As the two of you laid there drifting off to sleep you couldn’t help but wonder what tomorrow would bring. Is this just a one night fling or something more? That of course was tomorrow’s problem. Tonight you were in the arms of an incredible man who helped make you feel alive again.

Forever tags: @nescaveckdaily @nescaveckwriter @kr804573 @jensengirl83 @k-slla @jackles010378 @jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @roseblue373

[justgrey]

hallo! Would ya be willing to write Scout x Male Reader? preferably a one-shot or something, but honestly I'll settle for anything. I got a few ideas for ya to build off of if you'd like!

-Being protective of him! we talking wrapping our arms around him when someone gets too close, pre relationship.

-Flirting and getting him flustered.

-getting bloody while protecting him from an enemy

-Bit of a heavier topic- reader being masked (I always imaged like a fighter pilot helmet lmao) and being sent on a dangerous mission, one that they might not return from, even with the respawn machine. They take off their helmet and put it on Scout, giving a small smile while saying "Keep it safe for me, yea?"

-Reader might also have a cat when they leave. Hit him where it HURTS.

-Comfort while reader heals after said suicide mission

Alright gangsters, I'm exploding. it seems you want something very specific, but i can't exactly put my finger on it 🤔

Also don't question the name, motivation hit in the middle of the night when I was settling in and rewatching Arcane for the 80th time. I promise I'm sane you guys don't call a raid on me please please please

went with the suicide mission BTW if it's not immediately clear because it probably isn't I'm gonna melt

Sad Boston Boy Hours

Scout x Male Reader

Warnings : suicide mission themes, angst probably, slight gore, swearing, not proofread

^ (dis yo boi?)

You didn't want Scout to hear about your latest mission. You wanted to delude yourself into thinking that not telling him was to make him not worry, but it was mainly because you didn't want to face him the day you had to leave.

Scout had managed to find out about it anyway through one very loud, very patriotic American as 8 out of your 9 other mercenary companions came to say their goodbyes in the dead of night.

You get a couple of handshakes, hugs, and pats on the back from the rest, and just as you're about to get in your vehicle, Scout's speedy footsteps rush out of the base.

"Woah, woah, woah! Where 'da Hell are you tryin' to go! And at 'dis time of night?!" He shouts, pulling you away and holding your arms tight.

"Scout- Scout, listen. This is something I have to do alone, alright." You try to defuse his anxiety and worry for you by running your fingers through his hair.

"Whatd'ya mean you gotta go on 'dis mission wit'out me? Wit'out anyone? Why would ya' ever gotta go somewhere without me? I mean, w- why would you even agree to 'dat?"

Scout looks stunned as you don't respond to him immediately, scratching the back of his head in confusion.

"I- It's just something I have to do. D- don't worry. I'll be ba-"

"Don't tell me 'dat, I'm not stupid."

"Scout-!"

"I said I'm not stupid. Listen ta' me, it's supposed to be me and you, forever! You. And. Me! You can't just go out and get yourself killed-!" He begins, waving his hands around to emphasise how displeased he is with this.

"Scout."

"Don't even try to-"

"Scout!"

Scout jumps a little at the volume of your voice, standing up straight in front of you. Now, he's listening to you. Finally. His ears even perk up a little.

Your hands slowly move to your helmet, taking the damn thing off to reveal your dashing face, adorned with scars and a bruise that never seems to go away.

Scout is mesmerised. He never got to see your face very often, and every time he did, it just blew him away. Why would you ever hide it away? He thinks. If he was as handsome as you, which he totally is, he wouldn't hide a damn thing, let alone his entire face.

His thoughts are interrupted as you gently raise his hands and place your helmet into them.

"Wh- why're you givin' me your helmet? 'Dis is your helmet. You're gonna need it, aren't ya'?" He closes one of his eyes and moves the helmet around a little, inspecting it.

"Not where I'll be headed. Listen, I want you to... to keep it safe for me, yeah?" You smile at him and move to caress his cheek, nervousness emanating from your affectionate touches. Scout blushes a little.

"No. You're makin' it back so that you can take your damn helmet back! I'm not losing you. I can't lose you. So I better not be keepin' this for too long." He pouts, pulling you in for a tight hug.

He wraps his arms and legs around your body for as long as he's allowed to before Heavy has to yank him off of your body.

"Damnit! Hey! I need'ta- give him a kiss. Lay off me, ya' lug!" He struggles out of Heavy's arms and kisses you on the lips before he's pulled away again, biting and scratching with your helmet in his arms.

Eventually, you're called back into the vehicle and Scout forces himself to watch as you're driven away to some place, with only your helmet as a way to keep him company.

~~~We time skipping dis so that i can time skip to dream land~~~

The last month had been Hell on Earth Scout. He was lonely and afraid that you would never make it back. Not even Medic's very best attempt at therapy (Having Archimedes follow Scout all day) could help with the mercs anxiety.

Eventually, the same bland truck that hauled you off to God knows where comes rolling back, and Saxton Hale himself holds you as you attempt to stand.

Scout sits in his room, mopey and sad, unaware of your return for a while, which allows you to swiftly get to the medbay.

"Fuck! Fuck it hurts! DON'T TOUCH THERE! TOUCH MY KIDNEY AND YOU'RE A GONER!"

"YOUR KIDNEY IS HANGING OUT OF YOUR BODY! I AM NOT SURE IF YOU ARE EDUCATED VERY WELL, BUT EITHER WAY, YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT YOUR ORGANS ARE SUPPOSED TO BE ON THE INSIDE, NOT OUTSIDE! WHY IS IT OUTSIDE?!"

"I DON'T KNOW?! I DIDN'T SURVIVE ALL THAT JUST TO GET YELLED AT BY A MADMAN! JUST HEAL ME UP ALREADY!!"

"GO FIND A HEALTH PACK!!!"

You and Medic shout back and forth at each other, alerting the whole base to your return.

Although it is Pyro that plunges their axe through Scout's door.

"H- hey! What da' heck?! There are times when a freakazoid like you should leave a man ta' mope!" Scout cries, his ears starting to pick up on the sounds of your shouts now that Pyro has so kindly opened his door for him.

"What the...?" Scout watches as you run past his door, looking desperately for a health pack as Medic chases you down with a scalpel.

Do not piss off your local medics.

"Holy shi- W- WAIT UP, ASSHOLE!"

Scout calls and looks over to your helmet, which is sitting at the foot of his bed and smiles like a madman as he grabs it and rushes out of his room and past Pyro.

"Get a move on, py!"

"HUR HUD HUR HUDDAAA!" (Go get your man!)

This is where it ends im tired. I'll write hcs of scout taking care of you another day. Rn I need to sleep, gn gang 🫡👍

[theageoftheunderstatement]

thebandwashere: Arctic Monkeys on the cover of the Oct 2022 issue of NME. 📸 by Zackery Michael @zackerymichael The boys are standing in the exact location of the cover image for their latest album The Car. The cover 📸 is by Matt Helders @matthelders, the drummer for the Arctic Monkeys and also one hell of a photographer. Here’s what Matt had to say about that image: "I took it a few years ago. I was living in an apartment in downtown LA for a bit and that was taken out of my bedroom window. I'd just got a lens for this camera and it was a different perspective to what I usually used. I took a lot of pictures of that car park, but that was just one that stood out particularly. There was something about that car and where it was... and we kept coming back to it." I tried to recreate Matt’s picture as best as I could, sneaking up to the rooftop of the building where I thought it was taken from. You’ll see in pic 5 that there was some obstructions in front of me that prevented me from getting a clear shot. Ideally, I needed to stand at the edge of the roof which I couldn’t gain access to (or inside Matt’s old apartment 😉). I was able to raise my arm high enough above the glass wall and roof ledge so that I could take something as close to Matt’s cover image as I could (pic 6). I found it kinda funny that there was a Ford Bronco almost in the exact same spot as the white car seen on the cover. Maybe my next hunt is to find out who owns that white car on the cover. This was a fun find.

[ballerinainskzville]

Unwell - Hyunjin one shot

Summary: your boyfriend Hyunjin returns from the Maniac tour. But both him and Felix have returned with food poisoning which is why you’re taking care of your sick boyfriend

Word count: 3,2k

TW: naseous, gore, throwing up, fever, vulnerability, dizziness, sensitive bf, caring gf

The Maniac tour was over.

Today marked the day that your boyfriend was coming back home. Back to you.

He had insisted on coming over to your place once he had stopped by his parents too to check on Kkami, so you were waiting with anticipation that both of them would show up any minute. “I’m on my way, wait for me”, was his last message.

Pacing up and down the living room, checking if the food you had cooked still looked edible, skipping steps that you had learned in your latest dance class, you waited.

The doorbell then finally relieved you from the tarnishing wait, and you raced to the front door.

There he was standing, your boyfriend Hyunjin with a bouquet of red roses in his hands. His eyes sparkled when he saw you, his sweet smile on display too. “Welcome home!”, you giggled, the excitement rising in your chest upon seeing him. Taking the bouquet from home he leaned it and stole a peck from your lips before closing the door behind him. “It’s not home when you’re not beside me”, he quoted from a poem he had written a while ago.

Hyunjin had begun writing more and more poetry and occasionally he’d send you his drafts to read. It allowed you to get another glimpse into his mind.

Walking ahead of him, you put the flowers into the designated flower vase next to the TV, in which you always put the flowers Hyunjin would buy you. As often as you told him not to buy flowers every time the old flowers perished, he’d still show up with a new bouquet, insisting he couldn’t help himself when he passed the flower shop a block away from your apartment’s building.

Once you filled up the vase with water, you turned around to look at Hyunjin who was watching you lovingly. If there was one person who could melt you with his eyes alone, it was Hyunjin. Both of your eyes met and you fell into each other's arms. “I missed you”, you mumbled before his lips overtook yours into a feverish, longing kiss. You sighed against his lips, gripping his shirt as you both melted into each other.

It was only you two and the sounds both of you emitted.

Until a low rumble went through the room. Which came from Hyunjin.

“Uh-“, he mumbled and broke the kiss first, holding onto his stomach. “Are you okay?”, you asked him, still holding onto him. He nodded with closed eyes, the hand on his stomach, the other hand resting on your back. “Hungry?”,!you asked. He shook his head again.

That’s when you noticed that Hyunjin looked paler than usual. His warm skin tone was missing the vibrancy glow it usually carried. His eyes were sunken in, too. Your eyes narrowed when you watched him. He was undeniably in discomfort. “What?”, he then said when he noticed your gaze. “You’re not okay, I can see that, dummy”, you nudged his arm. He faked a gasp and moved his hand up to his chest.

“You’re calling me a liar?”

“I’m not calling you a truther!”

You looked at each other before you both fell into a fit of laughter. “No, seriously, Hyun. Are you okay?”, you asked him, playing with the hem of his Celine shirt. He cupped your cheek and caressed it. “Just tired, love.” He kissed your forehead. He felt warm.

“Want to eat? I cooked you something-“, you began but he frantically shook his head. “We ate on our way here. We stopped by our favorite place with the guys”, he told you. “But I told you that I’d cook for you tonight”, you couldn’t help but feel a bit irritated that he’d eat out right before he’d come over. You spend half the day in the kitchen. “I was really hungry after the flight. But… I can eat a few bites. You put so much time into cooking today”, he caressed your cheek and you nodded. “Okay, I’ll set up the table-“, you let go of his shirt but Hyunjin shook his head. “Can we watch a movie while we eat? There’s no need to set up a romantic dinner”.

Now he was truly starting to act weird. Hyunjin chased any romantic gesture he could implement into his life, including having candle night dinners. Which is why you had an impressive stock of candles in your apartment. Mostly, again, gifted by him. When he bought one for himself, he’d get you the same one.

You watched over his expression, trying to find a glimpse of him under the mask of his eternally breathtaking face. “I just want to be close to you while we eat. Or snack, to be precise”, he whispered. You couldn’t say reject his request, you two had been separated by continents for over a month. You had missed him, terribly. “Okay, I’ll bring some of the things onto the coffee table. You choose the movie?”, you pecked his swollen lips once more before you pulled away.

Titanic was the movie choice of Hyunjin. Which was a tad ironic for you but it was one of his favorite movies. Also the movie you both watched in the cinema on your first date. Occasionally taking a bite from the food on the table, Hyunjin was laying on the couch, head resting on your lap. Lost in the movie, you were playing with his pinkish-blonde hair that had grown out longer since the last time you saw him. Now and then, he’d let out an approving sound from his lips. Soon enough, his breathing steadied and he had fallen asleep. You pressed the movie on hold. If there was one thing he was picky about, it was people continuing to watch the movie/episode without him.

Admiring the man of your dreams, you continued to caress his hair lovingly. Not able to put your finger if Hyunjin was slowly burning up or if the heater was warming up the apartment more than usual, you wiped away the pearls of sweat from his forehead. Staying in the same position, with him close to you.

There it was again, his stomach rumpled and Hyunjin shoot up. Defeating his calm nature, he rushed out of the living room towards the bathroom. Within seconds, he was by the toilet seat and heaved out the content of his stomach. You halted by the doorframe, unsure if he wanted your presence as Hyunjin held pride in his appearance. When his stomach began to spasm, his whole body trembling as he held onto the basin with white knuckles, you came closer o him and rubbed the back of his neck. “Let it all out, Hyun. You’ll feel better afterward”, you whispered and he heaved again. You heard his whimpering sobs underneath his attempts to empty his stomach further and it broke your heart. You moved your hand up, moving his hair out of his face until he dry heaved.

You reached out to flush the toilet in case it would further trigger his stomach. Hyunjin buried his face in his hands and began trembling again, painful sobs escaping through the cracks of his mask. Quickly, you took a wet cloth and placed your hand on his wrist. “Let me help you?”, you asked him softly. He looked up from his hands and lowered them when he saw the cloth in your hand.

Silently, you wiped away the corner of his lips, his chin, and his hands before you threw the cloth away too. Feeling a bit cleaner, Hyunjin sighed and rested his head against the bathroom wall. “Hyunjin, you’re sick. You must have caught something while you were on tour”, you commented as you cupped his cheek, caressing it. At the gesture, if he wanted to come into your arms for a hug, he simply shook his head. He looked at you with glossy eyes and pink-tinted cheeks as he was burning under your touch. “Let’s get you to bed”, you told him instead and stood up, before holding your hands down for him to hold on to.

Guiding him to your bedroom carefully, you dimmed the exposure of your light in case it might worsen his situation. Tagged underneath the blankets, only his face was visible. Hyunjin hated sweating but he was too tired to argue against you. He had to sweat it. “Do you also feel nauseous?”, you asked him as you felt up his forehead again. To which he nodded. Confirming the symptom. Probably food poisoning then. “Try to sleep a little, I’m going to make soup for you. You can use the water bottle on the nightstand, you need to stay hydrated”, you explained to him and he just again nodded. “Can you hold my hand until I fall asleep?”, he asked in a drowsy voice. With a nod, you sat down next to him, reaching under the cover until your hand hold his. He instantly interlaced your fingers with each other, both of your fingers’ rings clocking against the material. His eyes fluttered close and it didn’t take him too long until he fell asleep. Mouth open, he lay under the layers of blankets. Your palm felt the sweat in his but you focused on his steady breathing instead. Until you were sure he was in deep slumber, you sneaked out of the bedroom and made your way to the kitchen to make something that might help ease his stomach.

While the soup was cooking, you texted Chan to let him know that Hyunjin wasn’t feeling well. Turns out, he and Felix were sitting at the doctor’s office as Felix was suffering from food poisoning.

Chan: it’s most likely Hyunjin is food poisoned too. Do you think you can persuade him to visit the doctor to get a check-up?

You: I’ll try but you know how he is when it comes to doctors. But thank you for letting me know Chan, and get well soon Felix! I’ll bring by some of the soup later to the dorm

Chan: he says thank you! Take care, both of you

You looked up from your phone when you heard soft sobs coming from your bedroom. Turning down the stove, you rushed back to the bedroom. Hyunjin was sitting on the bed, his white shirt sticking onto his skin with sweat. Face buried in his hands, he cried in solitude. “Oh, Hyunjin…”, you whispered and sat down next to him. “N-no, you might get sick too!”, he moved further away from you which lead him to hit his head on the bed’s headboard. “Shhh-“, he groaned and held onto his head. “Chan is at the doctor’s office because Felix has food poisoning. Which is what you probably also have, considering your symptoms”, you tell him with a soft voice not to freak him out further. “Felix is sick?”, he whispered, lowering his head. You nodded. “They are on their way back to the dorm now”, he then nodded and looked away, shutting down his emotions. “Explains why I’ve been feeling this way…”, he mumbled. “That way, baby?”, you move closer on the mattress, putting your hand on top of his. “Like my stomach curling inside?”, he shrugged before he looked back at you.

He was annoyed. At himself. For being sick in the first place. “It can happen to anyone, baby. We should go to the doctor’s office-“, he began shaking his head before you even finished your sentence. “No! I’ll be fine! I promise. I need sleep… and your hugs would probably help too”, he flipped your hands, his hand on yours now, tracing your skin. You couldn’t help but smile softly at the sight of pink-cheeked Hyunjin drawing invisible circles on your skin. “I’ll cuddle you lots but you have to shower first. The sweat needs to be washed off”

“Im too nauseous to do that”, he mumbled under his breath.

“How about I wash your hair and you wash your body sitting on the shower floor?”, you suggest. He thinks for a bit,knowing that there wasn’t a way out for him. And he felt disgusting sitting in his own sweat. He had no choice other than to agree.

Hyunjin’s body was a sculpted masterpiece. That you couldn’t help but stare in admiration whenever you saw it. His workout routine on top of his dancing lessons had shaped his body into a slim but fit condition that matched his facial features in perfect proportions. He held his looks with pride, knowing that he was attractive. Today, however, his head hung low with missing confidence and strength. He had insisted on washing his body himself without your help. Bickering over how to help him out, you both agreed that he’d led the bathroom door open, just in case you had to rush in.

Couple minutes later, he was sitting on the floor of the bathroom, tucked into his designated robe, his head tilted towards the shower floor as you worked the shampoo into his hair. You tried to be as quick as possible as his posture was cramped and the cold bathroom floor could worsen his stomach issues. Choosing the spray bottle of leave-in conditioner to shorten the washing time, you wrapped a towel around his head and helped him to stand up once you were done. Towering over you, fresh and clean, his cheeks gleamed less pink. He wasn’t as feverish as before but his body was still too warm to hold a normal body temperature.

A sigh escaped Hyunjin’s lips before he threw himself into your arms, wrapping his arms around you. Returning the hug, you hold him close to you, eliminating any space between you two. His head squished but resting on your shoulder, he stood in silence, taking in the comfort he needed. “I’m always here for you, baby”, you whispered and caressed his back. You felt his body rumple in response. As he pulled his face back, he cupped your cheek to caress it, staring lovingly into your eyes. “I couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend than you…”

You smiled up at him and booed your nose with his. “I couldn’t have asked for a better boyfriend than you”

So you both stood there, in the arms of each other with smiles that could melt the heart of the most cold-hearted person on earth. “Do you think you can eat a couple of bites? I have some drops for stomach issues that help well whenever I’m sick”, you asked as he continued to caress your cheek lovingly. A thinking second later he nodded. “I’ll try. I’m starving… but I’m scared I’ll throw it all up again…”, he mumbled. “I know it’s a disgusting feeling when you have to but I’m here in case you do. You need to nourish yourself too. At least try?”. With a look into your warm brown eyes that brought him comfort, he gave you a nod. “Good, I’ll prepare a tray and you brush your teeth and go back to bed. I’ll spoil you for the rest of the day”.

His lips lifted into a soft smile. “Spoil me, huh?”. You couldn’t help but laugh, knowing what was going on in his mind. “Only because you’re sick. Otherwise I’d demand my princess treatment”, you pucker up your lips gently. As he leans in, he stops. “I’d spoil you more than just princess treatment and you know that, Y/N”. Hearing his voice breathe out your name was like a blessing each time you heard it. It would get never old. At least you hoped so. Unwillingly pulling back, you let go of Hyunjin and ushered him to walk back to the bedroom before you disappeared into the kitchen.

Chicken soup, bread, camomile tea, a bottle of water, painkillers, herbal stomach drops, a bowl with cold water, and a cloth on the tray, you entered your bedroom again. Hyunjin was half sitting, half laying on your bed, checking out the book that you were currently reading that he had found on your nightstand.

“Is it good? Radio Silence?”, he asked and held the book up for you. You were halfway through the book and it was tabbed lovingly.

“It’s really good, you can read it once I’m done”

“I want to read it now”

You squinted your eyes at him, seeing that his playful bratty attitude was slowly returning into his sick body.

He mirrored your expression before he closed his eyes for a second.

And put on his pleading puppy eyes that you just couldn’t resist. And he was aware of them.

Defeated, you huffed as you placed the tray carefully onto his lap.

“I can read you a chapter as a compromise”, he suggested but you waved it off with a smile. “I can read it later too. Do you feel the fever going down? I don’t have anything to measure it-“, you placed your hand on his forehead, then his cheeks. He was burning up again, his cheeks flushed with evidence. This wasn’t going well.

“Let me feed you the soup and then you take the meds. Okay, baby?”, you pressed a kiss onto his forehead and he nodded with a soft smile. “I’m a bit embarrassed that you have to look after me like a kid tho…”, he said as he watched you stir the soup a bit before holding up the first spoonful. “Nonsense, your my boyfriend. Who’s supposed to look after you if not me?”. He leaned close and took the first spoon. “And I don’t mean your mom”. He chuckled a bit and took the second spoonful. “Thank you, baby. You’re for real a true blessing in my life”. He gave you a weak smile and you feed him a couple more spoons before he signaled you it was enough. Hyunjin then chewed on a small piece of bread before he one by one took the meds that you gave him.

“Now let me just put this on…” you said as you ringed out the excess water of the clothe before playing it onto his forehead. He squirmed a little at the contact. “Cold!”, he whined out. You caressed his arm and wiped his cheeks too before you put it back on his forehead. “I’m cold now. I need cuddles. I demand cuddles now”, he sighed dramatically with his eyes closed, arms swaying upwards. You rolled your eyes, even if he wasn’t able to see it before you put the tray safely away on the other nightstand. Then slipped into the bed, head resting carefully on his chest and an arm wrapped around him. “Better?”, you whispered and felt his arms secure around you. “Much better. I’m almost healed”, he whispered back, rubbing your arm. Even if you didn’t see his face, you knew he had his cocky grin on. “I’m still taking you to the doctor if you’re not better by tomorrow”, you then said. “Who needs a doctor these days when you have an Angel by your side? They have better healing powers”, he mumbled, sounding drowsy again. You looked up to look at him, his eyes searching for hours half-lidded.

He looked like a fallen angel with the pink rouge on his cheeks and the glossy eyes. Still eternally breathtaking. Leaning up a little, you gently pressed your lips on his. Demanding as he always was, he leaned in further, and you both began melting into the kiss. Feeling his chest under your hand, you gently pulled away when you heard him grunt. “Are you okay?” you whispered against his lips. “If you continue kissing me, I will be”, he whispered back and tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

[athenasparrow]

“you left your underwear back at my place.” Jily

Because this made me laugh when I read it

I hope this makes you laugh too @liiilyevans 😂

Rating: M

Send me a prompt

When Lily wakes up, it’s to a pounding headache and a bitter taste in her mouth that informs her – in a voice that sounds eerily like Petunia – that she shouldn’t have downed the five flaming vodka shots at the end of the night. But Marlene had already ordered them and it would’ve been such a waste.

Lily groans and reaches for her phone, determined to tell Marlene off for making her feel so damn horrible, but she's rather distracted by the message that blinks innocently at her on the screen.

Unknown: Hi : D You left your underwear at my place. Let me know when you're awake - I can drop them off.

Lily stares at the message...someone has obviously typed in the wrong number; it was hazy, but she remembers getting in the cab alone. And her underwear was still–

Oh no.

Lily frantically yanks up her dress, staring in horror at her very knickerless–

Lily: Who is this?

Had she shagged the cab driver? She couldn’t remember if he was cute or not. Oh god, what if she’d given in to the building super who had been hitting on her for months. He was like fifty! That would explain why he had her number. Shit, double shit. 

Lily: Is this Horace? 

Unknown: Wait, you're shagging Slughorn?

A wave of pure relief swept through Lily; she was not – thank god – shagging her super.

Lily: No! No more questions!

Who are you?

I’ve woken up with no knickers and am now checking the opening hours for my nearest chemist so I can go buy a fucking pregnancy test.

And get an STI screening!

I do not have time for games right now!

Tell me who you are and return my knickers at once!

Unknown:

Woah, hold on a sec

You don’t need a pregnancy test or an STI screening

At least not because of last night

Lily:

And how would you know that genius?

Unless you’re infertile and a virgin there’s a chance of both!

Again, who am I speaking with?????

Unknown: I am neither infertile nor a virgin

Lily: Then you don’t “know” shit, do you?

Unknown: But we did not have sex last night

Lily: Oh!

Unknown: And this is your neighbour, James

Lily: I don’t have a neighbour named James!

James: I beg to differ. Listen, can you answer your door?

Even with that warning, Lily still jumped when a sharp rap sounded in her apartment. She had quite a few things to say to this man! She didn’t have a neighbour named James; she would know, she’d been living in this apartment for three years. Alice and Frank lived down the hall – they were looking for a bigger place since the arrival of their little one – in number seven. Arabella – a lady who had more cats than square metres – lived in number six. Number five held a charming set of twins – Gideon and Fabian – who Lily was happy to flirt with every time they got mail at the same time. She was in number five and number four–

Oh no.

Lily doesn't have time to stop her hand as it reaches out in front of her and opens the door.

Fit bloke from number four.

He looks even more delicious and Lily is suddenly rather regretful he’d said they hadn’t shagged. But she’s distracted from that thought by the sudden assault of memories.

***

“Pads?” James calls, hearing the door slam shut. He barely glances up from his phone as he frowns at the latest next his mother’s sent him. 

He does jump up at the ensuing crash – and rather loud silence in place of his brother’s usual greeting – running to the hallway and greeted with a rather strange sight.

The beautiful redhead from number five is sprawled out on his floor and seems to be giving her shoe a rather harsh verbal lashing.

“What are you making me trip for, you stupid thing!”

“Are you sure it’s the shoe that made you trip and not the several glasses of whatever you’ve been drinking?” James interrupts with a laugh.

She spins around, obviously caught by surprise, before letting out a triumphant yell as she yanks one heel off, then the other, tossing them carelessly over her shoulder. James winces at the mark the first one leaves on his wall but decides it’s nothing when her second shoe narrowly misses the vase his mother had gifted him.

“I think you’re in the wrong apartment,” James says kindly. She looked quite plastered. “Would you like me to–”

“I’m not in the wrong apartment!” Lily interrupts confidently. “You’re fit-man!”

“I’m James actually?” James says, rather bewildered. “And if anyone is fit here, it’s you!”

The redhead looks rather delighted at his compliment. “That’s excellent that you think so! This will work rather nicely then!”

“What will work nic– Hey! What are you doing?” 

Jame thinks it’s a fair question since she’s hiked up her dress – he was not going to look – and was tugging her deep blue lacy knickers – no looking! – down her pale legs. 

“Well, how are we supposed to do it with them on?” The redhead says, shooting him a look that James thinks is supposed to mean duh when in reality, he’s quite far from understanding anything at the moment.

“It?” James asks, clearing his throat and happy she doesn't appear to notice he sounds like a frog.

“Don’t you know what sex is?” And now she’s giggling at him, bright and free and drunk.

“I know what sex is,” James feels the need to clarify. “But we can’t do it right now.” No matter how much I wish we could.

“Why not?” She demands, her eyes wide – and mesmerising – and horrified as she stares at him.

“Because you’re drunk,” James breaks to her gently, fighting back a laugh. “And I don’t even know your name.”

“Lily.” A pause. “I suppose it would be odd to have sex with me when you don’t know my name.”

James nods vigorously, glad she’s seeing some sense. Hopefully he can convince her to go back to her apartment so he doesn't have to keep telling his cock to stay the fuck down. 

“It’s a pity I’m drunk,” she tells him. “I was really hoping for an orgasm before bed, it really helps me sleep, you know?”

James chokes on the very air he was supposed to be breathing. He does know but he’s not going to tell her that. “I suppose you’ll have to sort that out yourself."

Lily heaves a long sigh like he’s announced Christmas has been cancelled. “Are you sure you can’t help me?” she pouts.

You’re sure James, he tells himself sternly. 

“I’m sure,” he confirms. “You’re drunk.” He says this out loud for his benefit as much as for hers.

“So you would help me if I wasn’t drunk?” 

I would bury my face between your legs and make you cum over and over again.

“Would love to,” James says instead. “If you still want to of course.”

“I’ll still want to,” Lily declares surely and James hopes so, but he won’t hold it against her if she doesn’t. “Oh no!”

“Oh no what?” 

“I’m going to be sick.”

Well shit. 

James scrambles to his feet, thankful the bathroom is in the hallway as he helps her stand and rushes her to the toilet. He holds her hair as she retches into the toilet and offers her a glass of water when she’s done. 

“Now I’ve ruined it” Lily sighs regretfully as she leans her cheek against the toilet seat.

“Ruined what?”

“My sexiness! This is decidedly un-sexy.”

He shouldn’t be flirting – she's drunk – but James can’t help but reassure her. “You could throw up in my toilet all day long and I’ll still think you're beautiful.”

“You would?”

“I would. But let’s talk about this tomorrow, okay? I think you could use some sleep.”

“You’re fit and nice. Do you think I could marry you someday?”

“How about we go on a sober date first,” James proposes, shoving aside the image of her in a white dress that his traitorous mind procures.

“If we must,” Lily hums, letting him pull her up. She grabs a pen off his console and – rather neatly, given how drunk she is – writes her number on his arm. “Now you can find me again!”

She looks so pleased with herself that James doesn’t remind her he only needs to walk three metres to her door. Instead, he grabs her shoes as he guides her out his door and down the hallway. When he sees her safely to bed – her eyes are already heavy – he slips out to leave her in peace. 

Damn. Her knickers.

He grins as he reaches into his pocket for his phone, typing in the numbers neatly scrawled on his arm.

James: Hi : D You left your underwear at my place…

[waytooinvested]

Vengeance, Victory, and Undying Love - pt 4

Chapter 4 of my Supercorp fic in which Lena still creates something called Non Nocere to deal with her broken heart after finding out Supergirl's identity, but this time she gives the name to a different project. A more personal one. And now she’s coming for Supergirl.

This and previous chapters also available to read on Ao3

........................

The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon when Lena finally left the DEO building, her head held high. The long sleeves of her jacket hid the spots on her wrists that had been rubbed raw by the slightly too tight cuffs, and she was almost certain that there was no discernible wobble in her stride, despite the weak feeling in her knees after her confrontation with Alex.

True, she had anticipated something of the sort when she had decided to keep them in the dark about what she had injected Kara with, but somehow knowing it might happen and being confronted with the reality of her former friend’s wrath felt entirely different, and Lena hated to admit how shaken she was by it, even to herself.

Still, it didn’t matter in the end. It was just another small feeling to stuff down into another small box at the back of her mind. The main thing was that she had made it through the second part of her plan, she was confident the DEO wouldn’t undo her work in time, and Non Nocere was still on track. It was time to pull herself together and refocus her mind on her goal.

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

Back at her desk a few hours later, having snatched a little sleep and a vile smoothie that nevertheless contained enough nutrients to ensure she wouldn’t have to think about meals for a while, Lena fell once again into the activity that was beginning to consume every waking hour that wasn’t already spent on running L Corp or working directly on Non Nocere.

‘Run the simulation’.

Kara stands in front of her, smiling that particular smile she seems to save for Lena alone. For a moment Lena allows herself to pause, taking in the soft waves of blonde that caress Kara’s toned shoulders, the way her eyes crinkle a little as her smile widens, the tilt of her head and set of her jaw. Every tiny detail that makes up the physicality of Kara Danvers.

Then she winds up, kryptonite ring flashing in the sunlight before she punches the smile off her stupid adorable face. Kara crumples at her feet and does not get back up.

‘Another’.

Kara flies out to face an alien a hundred times her size armoured with kryptonite. At first she is winning, beating her opponent down with a flurry of attacks, but even as she fights, sickly green begins painting jagged lightning bolts across her face and hands as the kryptonite takes effect. Kara struggles to stay airborne, her heat vision sputtering and then failing altogether as she begins to lose altitude. The alien sees its chance and attacks, snapping her spine in a single blow and discarding her as casually as a broken doll.

‘Another’.

Kara gets hit by a truck.

‘Another’.

Kara gets shot. Stabbed. Caught in a land slide. Blown apart by a bomb.

Kara lying bloody and broken at the bottom of a crater. Kara looking up at her in despair as the life drains from her eyes. Kara still and cold, never to rise again.

It’s sharp and stinging, and it keeps Lena focused on what she needs to do.

‘Again Ms Luthor?’

Lena sighed and waved away the latest image.

‘No thank you Hope, that’s enough for now. We have work to do’.

‘Alright Ms Luthor. What would you like to do next?’

‘We’re going end this for good, Hope. We’re going to make some kryptonite’.

[sjsmith56]

The New Neighbour - Part 1, From There to Here - Bucky Barnes One Shots

Summary: A new neighbour takes over the parking stall of a single 30-something librarian while he moves in. Takes place just after FATWS. 1st person POV.

Length: 5.3K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, named female character

Warnings: Bucky Barnes, misunderstanding, cursing, wrecked pizza.

Author notes: the original female character in this one shot will reappear in several parts of this collection. Apologies to those who prefer x readers or Y/N designations. I’m old school and I give my original female characters names and descriptions.

🔹🔹🔹🔹

The pickup truck filled with furniture parked in my parking stall wasn't the first sign that my lousy day was destined to continue into the evening. The day had started well enough. My alarm went off on time, the coffee maker didn't blow up, and I didn't burn the toast. Once I arrived at the Library all hell broke loose when a bathroom on the second floor experienced a burst pipe sending water out towards the book stacks. The water soaked the carpets and the Library manager had to call in a plumber to fix the pipe, then a cleanup team to wet vac most of the second floor while all of us staff that weren't working the circulation desk had to remove the bottom level of books in every stack to keep them away from the moisture. It was tedious work, especially since we couldn't kneel on the wet floor, for obvious reasons.

On the way home I stopped off at my favourite pizza place, ordered a loaded pizza then went to the liquor store a few doors down to get a six pack of beer to go with the pizza. As I got closer to the apartment building I could smell the tantalizing scents of the large pizza and began to think of how it would taste when I arrived home. My plan was to change into sweat pants and a T-shirt then relax on the couch and binge watch the latest season of The Mandalorian. It was all brought to a screeching halt when I saw the pickup truck backed into my parking stall, the one I paid a premium for so that I was close to the door.

I pulled up in front of it and got out of my car, staring at it with my hands on my hips. Two men came out of the door of the apartment building and approached the truck.

"Hey, this is my parking stall," I said to the closest one, a handsome and muscular black man. "Would you mind?"

"Uh, Buck," he said to the other man, a tall muscular man with dark hair and the bluest eyes I had ever seen. "We're in someone's parking spot."

He looked at me. "Sorry, this is where the manager told me to park," he said. "I have to get my stuff in."

"Well, it's my spot," I insisted. "I pay extra for it so that I don't have far to walk to the door. What unit are you in?"

"302," he said. "I'll go ask him where I'm supposed to park. You can park there until we're finished unloading and then I'll put the truck where it's supposed to be."

"Fine, do that," I snapped, thinking of my pizza getting colder. It also meant he was my next door neighbour. "I'll wait."

Exasperated he looked at the other guy and headed back into the apartment building in search of the building manager. The other man stood there, slightly embarrassed.

"Sorry about this," he said. "Seriously, the manager said we could park here. You don't happen to know where Buck's spot is do you?"

I pointed towards the far end of the parking lot. He winced and looked back at the door. A few minutes later the dark haired man, Buck, returned shaking his head.

"He's not in his suite," he said. "Listen, if you know where I'm supposed to park just park there for now and we'll try to get this done as soon as we can. I can even switch both vehicles once I'm done."

Shaking my head I restarted my car and backed up to the far end of the parking lot, putting my car into the spot marked 302. Grabbing my purse, the six pack and the pizza I closed the car door with my foot. Putting them on my hood I pressed the lock button on my car remote then gingerly picked up the pizza and beer to head to the door. It was closed, the door stop had come loose making it close. This was ridiculous. Balancing the pizza as best I could I tried to isolate the security door key so I could unlock it. Just as I inserted it into the lock the pizza box tilted, began to slide and I tried to grab it to no avail. It fell cover side down into the concrete step.

"Fuck!"

I swore a few more choice words and put the beer down to pick up the pizza box. Lifting the top my heart sank as the entire cheese layer was stuck on the lid. At that moment the two men came out, seeing the ruined pizza.

"I'm so sorry," said the blue eyed man. "I must have kicked the door stop on my way in. Let me make it up to you. We'll be done in 15 or 20 minutes. I'll order a new pizza, switch the truck and your car, and still owe you a favour."

"Don't bother," I replied. "I don't need your pity or any favours."

I entered the building before I said what I was really feeling and got into the elevator. Angry at the day, at the pizza, and especially at BUCK, I stomped down the hallway to my apartment and put everything on the floor to open my door. Just as I opened it the elevator dinged and the doors opened. My new neighbour and his friend came out carrying a big mattress ... king sized. Great, now he knew which apartment I lived in. With a grimace I picked my things up from the floor and backed into my place, slamming the door shut with my foot. Dropping everything on the counter I changed and came back out to the kitchen, peeled a slice of pizza off the inside of the lid, put it on a plate then into the microwave. I opened a beer and took a long drink of it. When the microwave beeped I pulled my pizza out and sprawled out on the couch. After a deep breath I took a bite of the pizza and began to chew. Immediately I spat it out. It tasted like cardboard. Looking closely I could see bits of the lid stuck to the pizza. Swearing again I went back to the kitchen, picked up the pizza box and tossed it into the garbage can. As I sat fuming I heard a timid knock on the door and looked out the security peephole. It was Buck. I opened the door and looked at him with all the disdain I could muster.

"Um, we're almost done and if you give me your car keys I'll move you back into your parking space," he said. "I'll also go pick up a pizza to replace the one I ruined. What's your choice?"

It was while he was looking at his hands that I noticed he was wearing leather gloves, finding it odd that he was wearing them in the middle of summer. He noticed me looking at them and looked briefly up at the ceiling before scratching his head.

"I have a metal hand and arm," he admitted. "It intimidates some people so I spare them by wearing the gloves. I know we got off on the wrong foot down there and I'm so sorry for the misunderstanding. Since we're neighbours please allow me to try and make it up to you."

"Okay, neighbour," I said a little more civilly after considering his words. "My name is June, and I prefer the loaded pizzas at Tony's Pizza, two blocks south on Versailles Avenue."

He took the glove off of his right hand and extended it to me. "Call me Bucky," he said. "It's a nickname."

As I shook his hand I couldn't believe how warm it was. It was also quite large but his handshake was firm without being overwhelming. We stood there for a moment not saying anything then he nodded, turned around and began walking to his apartment.

"You need my car keys," I reminded him and he returned sheepishly, taking them with a self deprecating grin.

Half an hour later there was another knock on the door and I opened it to Bucky standing there with three boxes of pizza. He gave me the top box and my keys then nodded and began to walk back to his apartment. Suddenly he turned around and looked back at me.

"If you don't want to eat alone you're welcome to join me and my friend, Sam," he said. "I got pizza for us as well. We're not ...."

He let the sentence hang in the air then nodded his head again and headed back to his door. Despite my misgivings there was something sweet about how he asked and I made an impulsive decision.

"Okay," I said. "I'll join you. Just let me grab my beer and door key."

A moment later I was walking into his apartment as he opened the door for me, waiting for me to enter ahead of him. His friend Sam, was unpacking a box of books and smiled at me as I came in. He stepped forward right away, extending his hand.

"Hi, I'm Sam," he said, waiting for me to answer.

"June," I replied, then shook his hand.

He grabbed a couple of boxes off of an armchair and offered it to me then pulled a large box in front of it to act as a table. At first I thought they were a couple but as I watched them both get plates, serviettes and beers I realized they were more likely friends that worked together. It was as if they each knew what the other was doing making their dynamic more of a partnership. They both sat on the couch, also using boxes as tables and opened their pizza boxes in front of them. Both of them took several big bites before drinking some of their beer. Bucky looked at his slice in appreciation.

"That takes me back," he said to Sam. "Just like they used to make in Brooklyn when I was young. I guess Tony's Pizza becomes my go to place."

"You're from Brooklyn?" I asked, trying to be polite.

"I was born in Indiana but my parents moved to Brooklyn in the 1920s after my Dad left the military and got a job in the shipyards. I grew up there."

"Wait, did you say 1920s?" I asked, wondering what this guy's issue was.

Sam began to smile. "She doesn't recognize you," he said to Bucky then he looked at me. "You don't recognize him?"

"Should I?" I was starting to get irritated again. "Who is he supposed to be?"

"Bucky Barnes," said Sam, to my blank look. "James Buchanan Barnes? Last of the Howling Commandos? The Winter Soldier? Partner to two Captain Americas?"

"Co-worker," said Bucky, "not partner. You and I are co-workers."

"Wait, you're Captain America?" I asked, staring intently at Sam. Then it hit me and I looked at both men as if seeing them for the first time. "Holy fuck. You are ... and you're ...."

Sam started to laugh. I should have been offended but I wasn't. I was eating pizza with Captain America and Bucky Barnes. Grabbing my beer I drank it and kept looking at them, still not quite believing it. How did I not recognize them? Bucky finished his first slice of pizza and looked critically at me.

"There aren't many girls your age named June," he stated.

"First of all, I'm not a girl." I bristled at the condescension. "I was named after my great grandmother. Perhaps you dated her. June Gladys Norton. She lived in the Bronx."

Sam snorted then tried to look innocent. "Don't mind him. He's still stuck in the 40s."

Bucky turned red but took a bite of his second piece. "All I meant was it's an uncommon name now. I liked it in the 1940s and I like it now. The fact you kept it means you don't go with the flow. You seem very confident."

"Well, thank you," I replied, mollified by the compliment. "I was born in June and my mother thought it was apt to honour my great grandmother at the same time. What's the Bucky for?"

"My middle name, Buchanan," he replied, curtly. "Why do you pay extra for the parking spot next to the door?"

I froze as it was a very personal matter, one that only the building manager, library manager, and a few of my closest friends knew, and one that I really didn't want to share with two strangers. Finishing my bite I put my slice of pizza back in the box and stood up.

"I need to go home. Nothing personal, I just can't ...."

Quickly I got out of there and went back to my apartment, as the panic began to rise up into my throat. It felt like I was choking and I suddenly flashed back to two years previously when I was mugged in the parking lot as I walked from the other end where I parked my car. The raspy voice telling me to give him my purse and car keys, then the feel of his hand on my throat as he decided I wasn't acting fast enough. That was followed by the fear when he took my purse and my car leaving me without the means to get into the building because they were in the purse.

Desperately I concentrated on my breathing, slowly in and slowly out. Gradually my heartbeat returned to normal and I felt calmer but now I had a piercing headache. Running a bath I stripped down and got in, hoping the warmth would help my blood vessels dilate and relieve the pain I was feeling in my head. The pain slowly eased and after drying off I got my pyjamas on and climbed into bed, hoping to sleep off any of the after effects.

It must have worked because I woke up a little earlier than normal the next morning. Stepping into the kitchen I started some coffee, put some bread in the toaster and opened the door to see if the newspaper had been dropped off yet. As I picked mine up I heard Bucky's door open. He stepped out and looked over at me with a worried look.

"Are you alright?" he asked. "I'm sorry if what I asked you brought out a panic attack. I've had a few and they're not fun to deal with."

"I'm fine, thank you. I'm a little embarrassed by it."

"I'm always available to talk," he said. "I've been in therapy and still talk to my therapist every once in a while when I get overwhelmed. You shouldn't be embarrassed or ashamed as it's obviously something that still affects you." He looked like he wanted to say more but changed his mind. With a quick nod he retreated back into his apartment. Looking at the paper in my hand I stepped back in. Grabbing my apartment keys I locked the door and went to Bucky's door, lightly knocking. He opened it almost immediately and ushered me in, gesturing to the kitchen table. He offered me a coffee and I took it gratefully.

"Where's Sam?" I asked.

"He's out for a run," said Bucky. "I'm faster than he is so I finished sooner."

"Two years ago, my parking stall was beside yours," I began. "I work at the Library and I was on until 9 o'clock. I met a friend for drinks after work and came home about 11 pm. As I walked across the parking lot towards the door a man accosted me and demanded my purse and car keys. He grabbed my neck when I didn't give them to him immediately. I have PTSD from it and walking across the parking lot triggers it, not so much in the day but definitely at night. Having the spot nearest the door means it only takes me a few seconds to get in. I get my keys ready as soon as I turn off my car and get inside where it's safe."

"I'm sorry," said Bucky. "That must have been so traumatic for you. Are you able to go out at night?"

"Not socially," I replied. "It's still hard when I'm assigned an evening shift but my manager is understanding so I only have to work one night every two weeks. I have to pay a premium to park there because the person who lives in the apartment it's assigned to demanded it. It's worth it to me. I'm sorry I flew off the handle at you. The manager is new and he might not be aware of the agreement. I assumed the old manager filled him in."

"Don't apologize," said Bucky. "Listen, I do go on missions but I have a lot of downtime. If you want I can wait for you if you ever want to go out with your friends. Just text me and I'll be waiting to make sure you get in okay. No one will mess with you if I'm there."

"That's nice of you, I'll keep it in mind," I replied, taking a sip of my coffee. I looked around and noticed nearly everything was put away. "You're already organized."

"I don't have a lot, books mostly," he said. "You'll probably see me at the Library. It's one of my favourite places."

"Why did you move to New Orleans?" I asked. "If it doesn't trigger you to tell me, I mean."

He smiled and for a moment I saw something wonderful flicker over his face, an extremely handsome one.

"I was living in Brooklyn, trying to fit in but I felt out of place," he said. "No one knew me and it's hard telling someone you're 106 calendar years old. Everything was different ... music, movies, television. I'm still not sure of half of what's on it. Women are different. I don't quite get pronouns. Don't get me wrong I'm not phobic about gays or people who are transitioning. It's their life, right? But it's ...."

"Overwhelming?"

"Yeah, that's pretty accurate," he said. "I just wanted the life I had before I went to war but it doesn't exist anymore. I lived with Sam for the past year; slept on his couch really but decided it was time for me to get back out on my own."

"Do you date?" I asked, hoping that he didn't.

"I tried but I was too self conscious and although when I was 21 or 22 would probably have loved to have a girl ... woman come on to me in a big way, it's off putting to me now," he said. "I guess I'm still old fashioned enough to want to be the man, do you know what I mean? I want to bring her flowers, open the doors for her, pull out her chair, get to know her first before we take it further. I'm an old man in a younger man's body."

He looked down at his coffee before drinking it and I could feel his confusion and hesitancy over how to negotiate the dating scene. Hell, I hadn't had an evening date since the attack and before that had only been out a handful of times in the previous year. I always put it down to being on the slightly plump side. I was still curvy but I definitely wasn't a waif. Several of my less than successful dates also said I wasn't deferential enough and was too opinionated for how I looked. They didn't say it in quite so nice words which often had me in tears once I got home. Briefly I looked up from my coffee and saw Bucky watching me. He smiled and looked away.

"If you ever want to hang out or go out for coffee we could always do it together," I offered. "I don't have a big social life. Hardly anything since the incident."

"A pretty girl ... sorry, bad habit, woman like you?" he shook his head. "Guys have to be crazy not to be lined up to take you out."

"Well, I'm not exactly considered desirable," I began and he interrupted.

"Like I said, guys have to be crazy. You're pretty, have a nice figure, and you're easy to talk to. You're definitely a strong woman. I would have asked you out in the 40s."

The security door buzzed at that moment and Bucky left the table to answer it. It was Sam, and Bucky buzzed him in then opened his apartment door. Sam came in moments later, all sweaty. His eyes lit up when he saw me and I gathered he had probably encouraged Bucky to talk to me.

"Nice to see you, June," he gasped slightly. "I don't know why I go running with this guy. He always leaves me in the dust then looks like he's just been out for a leisurely stroll after." He looked at Bucky. "We going back for the rest of your stuff this morning?"

"I think I'll leave the weapons in storage," he replied. "I don't like having them around the apartment. Makes people nervous. I wouldn't mind getting my motorcycle." He looked at me reassuringly. "I'm not a gun nut although I own a lot of them and knives as well. They're tools of my trade, Avenger tools. I keep them in the storage locker and grab what I need when we're called for a mission."

"Fair enough," said Sam. "I'll grab a shower now and a coffee after. You making me breakfast?"

Bucky grinned. "If June stays I can be talked into it."

Both men turned their attention to me. "Sure, maybe I should get changed out of my pyjamas first."

A blush formed on Bucky's face. "I didn't want to say anything but I'm guessing they're your comfort clothes."

"Something like that," I replied. "I won't be long."

It surprised me that Bucky got to the door first and opened it for me. He really did want to be the gentleman. It was touching that there was still gallantry in a man as it had been something lacking in the men I had dated. As I walked past him into the hallway I could smell his cologne. There was a touch of citrus in it but also some lavender and cedar. It was light and definitely suited him. As I turned to acknowledge him I noticed he was looking at my lips and I was suddenly self conscious. He sensed it and backed away.

"See you in a few minutes," he said softly.

With a nod I returned to my apartment and quickly washed my face and moisturized. I slid on my skinny jeans, then put a tunic on that came down to my hips. It had a v-neck and showed a touch of my cleavage. Then I put my hair in a low ponytail and put on a couple of drop earrings, turquoise ones that were one of my favourites. I only wore makeup for work and going out but I did put some lipstick on, a berry colour. When I returned to the apartment Sam opened the door and took in what I was wearing.

"Looking good, girl," he drawled. "Buck will like this."

Blushing I walked past him to see the table was all set for three. Bucky was at the stove and had already made pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs and toast. He worked fast to finish it off and put everything out at the table. After pouring everyone a fresh cup of coffee he sat down and gestured for me to serve myself. Sam served himself then Bucky took the rest. There was a lot of food on his plate.

"I need a lot of calories to function properly," he explained. "If you want more I'm happy to make it for you."

"I'm good, this is more than enough for me," I assured him.

Both men ate quickly and were finished well before I was even halfway done. Neither seemed bothered that I was still working my way through it. When Bucky asked if it was okay if he started cleaning up I gave him my blessing. He finished cleaning the pans just as I finished my last bite of toast. Knowing they had to get going I prepared to leave then I noticed Sam nodding in my direction. Bucky made a subtle face at him then cleared his throat.

"June, if you're not busy you're welcome to come with us," said Bucky. "It's a storage facility out near the air base. That's usually where we leave from for a mission. It's a nice drive."

If two muscular men had asked me that just a few days before I would have wondered what their game was. Were they trying to get me alone and isolated for whatever nefarious purposes they had in mind? Were they just being polite? Regardless I didn't get that feeling from either of them. In fact, it seemed like they genuinely wanted my company. Maybe Sam was being polite and from that gesture he made to Bucky it seemed like he was trying to encourage him to be more sociable with me. In fact, once he asked me Bucky looked away as if he didn't want to influence me one way or another.

"Is there room?"

"Sure, that front bench has enough room for three," replied Sam. "Come out for the drive. It will give you and Buck a chance to get better acquainted ... as neighbours."

"Sure, I'll just get my purse," I replied, surprised at myself.

Both men waited for me and when Sam took the wheel I realized the truck was his. On the drive out to the storage locker Bucky sat with his left arm resting behind my head on top of the truck seat. Our legs were touching and I noticed how muscular his legs were even through the denim of his jeans. I looked up to see him looking at me and he gave a shy grin before looking out the window. Sam had his phone hooked up to the radio, playing new R&B and old Motown. Bucky seemed to prefer the older stuff based on the tapping of his fingers behind my head.

"What do you normally listen to for music?" I asked him before speculating that he probably preferred 1940s music.

"Old stuff, from the war years, mostly, but I like a lot of Motown and some of the crooners from now like Tony Bennett, Michael Bublé, Diana Krall, people like that. You?"

"I like the singers you just named," I replied. "A lot of things really. My parents played a lot of music as we grew up."

Sam swerved to avoid hitting a garbage bag on the road and I was thrown into Bucky's side. His left arm came down to steady me and I had to admit I liked how it felt to have his arm around me. His face went pink and he put his arm back on the top of the seat then looked over my head to glare at Sam before looking out the front. We pulled up to the storage area and Bucky reminded Sam of the keypad code. The gate slid open and Sam drove to a row of storage doors, stopping midway. Fishing a key out of his pocket Bucky unlocked the lock and slid the door up. Under a tarpaulin was what I assume was his motorbike and I gasped when I saw it; a Harley Davidson FLSTF Fat Boy.

"This is the same motorcycle used in Terminator 2," I said, looking back at Bucky. "You've seen that movie, haven't you?"

"He has," laughed Sam. "It's kind of his nickname when I want to annoy him."

"It was in pieces at an estate sale," said Bucky, with a bit of edge to his voice. "I knew how to put it back together and the owner's widow gave me a deal to get it out of their garage."

"Well, it's a classic and I'm impressed you know how to maintain it," I said, excitedly. "Will you give me a ride some time?"

Sam looked away smirking and I realized what I had said. This time I turned red and left the storage locker to get my dignity back. Bucky wheeled it out while Sam pulled a couple of wide boards out of the back of the truck. Together they got it up onto the truck bed and strapped it in tight. Bucky went back in the storage locker while I sat on the tailgate. He brought several boxes out, putting them on the tailgate next to me, and opened them, saying he couldn't see well inside the locker. Inside were old pictures of Bucky and what I assumed were the Howling Commandos. He smiled briefly as he took them out then he showed me one of him during the war. His face was so young but the look on it was stern.

"That was shortly before I fell off the train," he said quietly. "We had an army photographer to document our missions and he took this picture of me after I looked at the zip line we needed to use to hit the train as it went by. I wasn't a big fan of heights."

"You zip lined onto a moving train?" I questioned. He nodded. "How come I never knew this about you?"

"Most of it was classified during the war," said Sam, looking over Bucky's shoulder. "Then when he was identified as the Winter Soldier a lot of the heroic stuff he did during the war got buried in the Army archives. Steve and I filed a Freedom of Information request for these to help Bucky's case once he broke away. They were finally approved during the Blip so Steve hung on to them for old time's sake."

"I'm going to leave them here," he said.

I put my hand on his arm. "Don't, I would like to see them and hear you explain about them."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because people would be interested. There's so much about you that isn't known and maybe it should be." He still didn't look convinced. "Okay, so maybe because I'm interested in knowing more about you. Yesterday I thought you were a jerk and today I think you have a story I would like to hear."

He smiled again and that glimpse of the handsome man appeared. "I will under one condition," he said, looking me in the eye. "You go out with me, to dinner, on a date."

"You want to go out with me on a date?"

I couldn't believe what he was saying. Me, the book worm who always seemed to be a last resort for the guys I had dated.

"I'm asking here," he said, his Brooklyn accent coming out strong. "Will you go to dinner with me?"

Sam said nothing but had a small satisfied smile on his face. I looked at him and he just raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

"Alright," I replied. "Dinner ... when?"

"Tomorrow night?" he asked. "Wear a dress." There was a pause. "Please. I like to see an attractive woman in a dress. We'll take an Uber."

Smiling, I nodded my head in agreement and Bucky returned the picture to the box, closing it up and putting it in the truck bed. He and Sam brought several other boxes out, securing them around the motorcycle. On the trip back our legs touched again. His arm was behind my head, extended along the top of the seat and he had a small satisfied smile for the entire trip back into town. So did I.

Part 2 >>

Series Master list

[heniareth]

8 Videogames To Get To Know Me

Tagged by @scribbledquillz @shivunin and @siriskulksnerding Thank you for the tag guys!! It's gonna be interesting bc I haven't played that many videogames, but I'll give it a shot and see if I come up to 8!

Dragon Age Origins - You know it, you love it, I love it, I don't shut up about it. Has sparked my longest ever writing project that has taught me so much about writing and actually finishing and structuring a long story. It will also be the first writing project I ever finish once I get there. It's also the first videogame I've played from start to finish and replayed(!!!!!) It's given me the opportunity to meet some really cool people (looking at all of you) and is accompanying me through some intense years. It's earned spot 1 fair and square

Detroit: Become Human - Such a freaking cool game!!! I was part of a team of mods for a collaborative playthrough (one person sat in front of the computer, the viewers made the choices, the mods communicated between the viewers and the player and made the decisions in case the viewers couldn't decide). I loved the mechanics and the story. It's just!!!! Yes.

Skyrim - I was once on a convention, can't remember which one, but they had Skyrim in VR and I could play for like 15 minutes. Guys. It was breathtakingly beautiful. I want to go back and play Skyrim in VR. Please

BG3 - Baldur's Gate 3 is high on my to play list. I mean, have you SEEN their character creator???? The story sounds like a ton of fun and the mechanics are familiar enough from DnD. Also, the companions 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Minecraft - I have spent a lot of hours running around in creative mode, building pretty things. It's a lot of fun!

Assassins' Creed - Looks super cool, haven't watched letsplays. This is also why I put the whole series in there and not one title from it. I actually own Assassins' Creed: Valhalla, but haven't gotten around to play it. Maybe one day...

The Witcher - I have heard lots of good things about this series, have saved some fanart, have watched a few letsplays for some early quests in the latest game. It looks really cool! Would love to play it some day!

Animal Crossing - I played Animal Crossing back in ye olde 2000-2010s. It was a lot of fun for little me, although I wnded uo getting overwhelmed because after a few days of not playing there were all these weeds to pull, so I spent all my very limited playing time pulling weeds!

And those are my 8 videogames! Honorable mentions: Horizon Forbidden West, Horizon Zero Dawn, The Sims (I think it was a bootleg version XD XD) and a zookeeping/animal shelter building game I can't remember the name of but was obsessed with. I was always very distraught when the animals weren't doing well 😫😫

Tagging @wild-houseplant @bumblerhizal @icylook and @nai-nty-8 if this sounds fun for you. No pressure to do this though ^^

[rurpleplaysmuttingtonac]

Here it is (finally!) This is a revamped version of Go Fresh Grocery, which wasn't supposed to take me all day yesterday, but it did!

It was supposed be a large store but became a small shopping centre instead! But I'm really pleased with how it came out. There will be a lot of pictures for this one, so let's start with the exterior shots.

There's quite a few pictures so I'll put it under the tab.

You know I have too much time on my hands when I designed the upstairs at the back of the shop where nobody will see it, as the area is covered by trees. 🤣

I got the impression that as it serves the majority of Fenton West, the store had to be bigger, include car parking and so I thought 'Why not utilise all that advertising real estate on the walls?' Hence, all the adverts.

There is a driveable space on the other side of the building which also has a path to a small garden area where I have some vending machines and a functional Starbucks vendor.

Heading back to the front door of the building, we have a small lobby where all the trolleys are parked/collected, before we head into the main hall and the self-checkouts are right in front of you. Job seeker's board on the left along with a phone stall, photobooth and cashpoint.

This is a small, part-time run bookshop which teens can get the latest magazines or book releases. You can also buy postcards here and inquire more about the local universities choices.

To the right of the bookshop is a small flower/seeds shop, again, part-time open.

Then the main area features the fruits, vegetable and other fresh produce as that's always the main feature as soon as you walk into supermarkets (or here in the UK it is). You can also get fresh smoothies, made to your tastes here as well.

Then there's the small bakery.

Across the way is the dry food shop.

Then through here is the butcher, who also sells fresh fish.

Back down the main hall is the frozen foods.

And lastly, there's a small toy shop for young children.

Floorplan for those who are interested. Seriously, this took me all of yesterday and I was so drained afterwards!

Was far too pleased with myself for this bike storage area 🤣🤣🤣

[fraink5-writes]

In the Names of Freedom - Chapter 1

Due to personal reasons, I took a hiatus two years ago, but NO LONGER! I am BACK, and with a new fic!

It’s another Genshin fic, this time inspired by the great manga Love of Kill (殺し愛), featuring Xiao and Venti!

Huge thank you to my editor @leio13​ for all the awesome feedback she provides!

Summary: After confirming the death of his latest target, Xiao's secret mission is interrupted by an eccentric stranger in green, who claims to be Xiao's protector! But the reality is much more convoluted... What destiny could possibly link Xiao with Venti—an assassin of hitmen?

This chapter can also be found on Ao3 here. Without further ado, please enjoy!

The jade tip of the spear glided cleanly through the center of the man's chest. After just a few moments of staggering and sputtering blood, the body crumpled to the floor. It would take a few minutes for brain death, but that wasn't Xiao's concern. Wasting no time, he walked over to the body and began his inspection, running his gloved fingers through every crevice. …Nothing. This was to be expected, of course. When Xiao died no one would find anything on his body either. Then he yanked out his spear and let the blood pour from the wound.

“Woooooowww~ Good job!” A light voice sang out. Xiao was certain he cleared the area of any bystanders. He shot up and whipped his spear in the direction of the voice. “So that's how the masters do it!” 

At the end of his weapon was a short… whimsical-looking fellow. His flowered hat and twin braids painted the image of a fairy-tale character, certainly not a witness to a murder. But whatever misfortune or accident led him to this scene was not important. He couldn't leave alive.

Xiao thrusts the spear at his skull, but the man just ducked under, not a second too soon.

“Can you hear me out?“

Xiao stabbed. Again. Again. Again. But each time, his target managed to elude his spear in an energetic dance.

“Please?” He shot Xiao the biggest puppy eyes imaginable, and while appeals to emotion didn't mean anything to Xiao, the man seemed equally unaffected by the many attempts on his life.

Xiao sighed. “You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into.” 

“Of course I do,” he chuckled. “Who in these parts hasn't heard the tragedy of the Yaksha?” After posing dramatically, he smiled, holding out his hand. “I'm Venti.”

Venti…? A strange name that should've meant nothing to Xiao, yet it stayed his hand—if only for a second. Then he lunged at “Venti” again.

“What's your name?” Venti playfully glided around the dim alley.

Xiao's only answer was another stab. 

“You won't tell me?” Venti's pout was quickly replaced by a smile. “Nevertheless, I'm still glad we had this chance to meet, o woeful Yaksha.” And with that, he slipped out into the dark, droning Liyue streets and disappeared.

***

Early the next morning, Xiao trudged through the already busy commercial district with a persistent twinge of irritation. He let that guy escape yesterday without a single clue about his identity. All he had was a name: Venti. That had to be a fake name, otherwise he wouldn't have given it up so easily. In any case, the name hadn't produced any results in Xiao's research. Although the stranger’s continued existence concerned Xiao, he felt deeply in his gut that he shouldn't let anyone else know about their encounter—at least not until Xiao could gather more information. As a result, the report in Xiao's hand contained no mention of the thorn in his side named Venti.

At the end of Liyue Harbor's Feiyun Slope, across from the entertainment district (Chihu Rock), sat an unassuming apartment building with an equally plain storefront on the first floor. Above the door, an old-fashioned sign read “Adepti Agency.” Due to its location, the small garden out front was a prime spot for teenage loitering, none of whom even spared the agency a second glance. Even at nine in the morning, there were already two teens hovering around one of the stone benches. 

“Have you heard about Teyvat's most prolific killers? They supposedly live right here in Liyue Harbor.”

“Ehhh? No?? What?!”

“Eheh, don't worry; they only kill bad people. They're known as the Yaksha and the Mole.”

“Ohh… I've heard about the Yaksha before—they're the hitman, right?”

“Yeah, they're called the Yaksha because they only kill the scum of the scum in Liyue's shadows. And they have a 100% hit rate.”

“Ooh, scary…”

“But guess what? Rumor has it they have a background in crime! They're first job was wiping out their own organization…!”

“Wow…”

“Yeah, but, the Mole is even worse—they're a hitman of hitmen!”

“Damn.”

“They deal in information. They help other assassins kill their targets in exchange for info. Supposedly, if the target offers up the better intel, they get spared, and the Mole kills the assassin. But no matter what, they always kill both eventually.”

“But if you're going to get killed no matter what, why would anyone make a deal with them?”

“Well, you see, they apparently have a voice so hypnotic that no one can resist them!”

“What would happen if they met?”

“Well, obviously the Mole would kill the Yaksha.”

“Yeah, but the Yaksha never misses a target.”

“True… hmm… what if they killed each other… at the same time!”

“Or what if they teamed up together?”

“Now that would be scary…”

Tuning out the embellished drivel of the teenagers, Xiao approached the uninviting entrance. There was only a single piece of paper hanging on the door that read “SORRY! No walk-in appointments.” Xiao opened the door and slipped inside. 

Upon entering, he was greeted by the reception desk. The young woman at the desk was sleeping, her head of blue hair nestled in her arms. Xiao wordlessly placed an envelope on her desk.

“…Ah! Uh… g-good morning, Xiao!” The secretary's head shot up in a daze.

“You don't have to work all night, you know, Ganyu.”

“Oh, yes… I know, but… intel can come through at any time, and Morax is counting on me to process them. Um, is this your report from your last job? That was fast!” Ganyu filed the envelope away. “Are you heading out again?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay…” She flipped through the papers on her desk and handed a packet to Xiao. “Here's your next job. Knowing you, you shouldn't have any problem with it.”

“Thanks.” Xiao turned back to the door.

“Xiao!” Ganyu called out to him once more as he was halfway through the exit. “I'll tell Morax that you stopped by! Good luck!”

And with a nod, Xiao left.

***

Although Xiao wasn't worried about his target (a corrupt aristocrat), that didn't mean he had plenty of free time. He headed over to the Heyu Tea House, where his target liked to lounge about, squandering his unlawful gains. As it was still early, the aristocrat had not yet shown up; the place was empty, save for Xiao himself and the storyteller who took it upon himself to begin a story:

“There once was a massive monsters' den. The monsters were exceptionally cruel, kidnapping children from their homes! But they did not eat them—no! They forced them to labor like slaves as their masters sat round their fire pits, inhaling the fumes. Our story today is the tale of three of these children on a fateful night…” 

By this point, Xiao's laptop had started up, and he began his research, tuning out the fantastical story behind him. Since he was in a public place, his resources were limited, but nevertheless, he would scour the surface web for any information on “Venti.” But “Venti” was nothing more than dust in the wind, a fleeting encounter swept away into the unknown. 

“Though the children had slain the King of the Beasts, could they escape the den alive? Please come back tomorrow to find out what happened to our three brave heroes.” Just as the storyteller wrapped up his first story, Xiao's target, Gentry Maocai, arrived at the Tea House as if on cue. He sauntered over to the boss for idle chatter, leaving his servant to prepare his table. With his master's back turned, the servant flippantly arranged the dishes, placing Maocai's teacup front and center. After a bit of dawdling, he approached Maocai to coax him to his seat. 

That was Xiao's chance. He slipped past the gentleman's unattended seat, dumped the contents of a small packet into his tea and then excused himself to the bathroom. Inside the packet was a ground powder created from the leaves of a tiny flower (gelsemine). It was a rare tea leaf, well suited for the end of a corrupt businessman's life. 

Xiao returned to his proper table, lingering to make sure Gentry Maocai savored his final cup. At around 11:45, a lively voice suddenly popped up behind Xiao's head, snapping him out of his covert gaze. “Oh, is that my name? I’m flattered!” Xiao slammed his laptop closed. The annoying presence skipped around to the other side of the table. “You know, if you wanted to find me, you could've just asked for my number~!” He waved his cellphone. “Then you can reach me whenever!” 

“No thanks…” Xiao grumbled automatically. “What are you doing here?”

“May I join you?” Venti pulled out the nearest chair without hesitation. “I told the host you were expecting me~.”

“Unfortunately, I was just about to leave.” Xiao rose slowly, trying to cover his irritation. 

“Need to leave before the clock strikes twelve? Well, I guess the poor child couldn't be caught at the nobleman's… ball.” An artificial smile quickly covered Venti's smug eyes. “Well, that's okay! I've already heard all these stories anyway.” After leaving the storyteller an enormous tip, Venti cheerily exited the tea house after Xiao.

Although, personally, Xiao wanted to shake off his company, he could not stray far from his mission until he had confirmed completion. Moreover, this was a rare chance to gather intel on the elusive Venti. If Xiao lost him now, Venti would vanish into the untraceable shadows. For those reasons, Xiao reluctantly let Venti skip behind him up to a higher balcony. 

Equally convenient and confusing, the many buildings of Feiyun Commerce Slope were connected by a network of stairs, balconies, and bridges which extended to the skies. From a business perspective, the arrangement was perfect for spying. From his higher perch, Xiao could easily watch the chaos that was unfolding at Heyu Tea House. The cacophony of moving furniture, the indistinct shouts, and the distant approach of sirens were enough to inform Xiao that Gentry Maocai was quickly expiring. By now, he was probably convulsing and having difficulty breathing. 

Then the restaurant fell silent. 

Venti, who had been quietly humming next to Xiao, suddenly snaked his left arm around Xiao's waist. 

“Don't.” Xiao breathed. 

“Aww, Honey…” Venti cooed. “Don't be so cold…” Venti let go of Xiao, his hand slowly creeping up to Xiao's cheek. With his right hand, he brushed back some of Xiao's hair and cupped his ear. “We're being watched.”

Xiao briefly scanned his surroundings, and sure enough, behind Venti, there was a woman in all black trying not to turn her eyes in discomfort. 

Closing his eyes, Xiao inhaled sharply. “Sorry. I didn't mean to be cold.” Xiao wrapped his arms around Venti. “But once I start thinking about all the things I want to do to you…” He whispered loudly, his fingers crawling down Venti's back. “Well…” Lower. “I don't think I'd be able to control myself—”Lower—“Even in public.”

Venti jumped ever so slightly, his face as red as a chili. He wasn't the only one blushing—the nosy woman was struggling to hide her rosy cheeks—but he was the first to regain his composure. “Oh my~!” With a coy giggle, he grabbed Xiao's arm, locking their fingers, and led him hastily to street level. 

“Never do that again,” Xiao hissed. 

“Uh-huh.” Venti's eyes were locked with the sidewalk.

An ambulance had finally arrived at the scene, but it was too late.

As Xiao and Venti wormed through the busy crowd, Venti's jumbled footsteps calmed into his usual dancing step. Perhaps his hand was a little too snug in Xiao's…

“I know I didn't leave the greatest first impression, but I'm grateful that we could have this second date.”

“This isn't a date.”

“Hm.” Venti shrugged. “You go by Xiao, right?”

Xiao's feet froze. When did Venti learn his name? What else has he learned?

“Relax. I just think it's a nice name.” For a brief second, Venti readjusted his hand, and just like that, Xiao's phone had been snatched. “So, this is your number…” He rapidly typed in a message (“This is Xiao!”) and sent it off to an unfamiliar number. 

Xiao yanked his phone back. “I'm going to block you.” But underneath his chastisement, he had even greater concerns. Not only did Venti have unknown access to information, but he also was exceptionally quick. Even ignoring whatever strength he might possess, he was a dangerous threat. Xiao had to figure him out before he could get whatever he wanted from Xiao.

When they arrived at a quiet park, Venti finally freed Xiao from his grip. “We're not being tailed anymore,” he exclaimed, stretching his arms. 

“By that group, at least.”

Venti blinked. He turned his head left and right; there was confusion written all over it.

“What business do you have with me?”

“Huh? Business? Oh.” Laughing, Venti deflected Xiao's accusations, “It's nothing like that at all. Just think of me as your guardian angel~!”

“Such a thing like that doesn't exist.”

“Sure it does!” Sensing Xiao's growing bloodlust, Venti skipped back a few paces. “Well, I'm glad I could meet you a second time, but I do have other places to be~! See you soon!”

Xiao would have preferred to settle everything right then, but Venti had once again vanished into the bustling streets. Xiao could pursue him no longer. Clinging to the smallest hope, Xiao blocked the unknown number on his phone screen, but he knew that wouldn't be the end of it.

[thatrickmcginnis]

David Lynch was on the top of the world when I photographed him in 1986 at the Toronto Film Festival. After the cult success of Eraserhead, he'd landed on the verge of the mainstream with Elephant Man, but then came the big budget flop that was Dune. We might never have heard of Lynch again if not for Blue Velvet, which had made him a very hot property at the film festival that year, transforming his infamy into real fame and making his big pop culture apogee with Twin Peaks possible. Time with Lynch was nearly impossible to get, but I'd been cultivating a friendship with a publicist at the festival, and sealed the deal with gifts of Godzilla wind-up toys I got at the toy shop where I worked as an assistant manager.

The only opening in David Lynch's schedule was during a limo ride - two blocks from the Park Plaza to the Windsor Arms. Heading down to the limo, Lynch struck up a conversation with a petite English lady in the elevator who looked like she was dressed for gardening. "That was Julie Christie," he said, obviously starstruck. I asked my questions as the limo negotiated the traffic, hoping it would be bad enough to give me time, but we were in front of the Windsor Arms soon enough, where I pulled out my Pentax Spotmatic - the camera I'd only bought a year and a half previous - and asked if I could get a few portraits. Lynch stood still between the car and the front door of the hotel, and I took my shots moving around him, with the buildings on Bloor street and the Bekins moving truck parked behind him. I'd have got a nicer background and better light if I'd just asked him to walk a few steps to the ivy-covered wall of the hotel, but I was too intimidated to push my luck any further.

The photos I got of David Lynch - six frames, precisely - were a nightmare to print, especially given my rudimentary darkroom skills. The light was awful, the background distracting or blown out, his face flat and lacking drama. I was able to produce one decent print, which I relied on for years, but scanning the shots several years ago for my old blog put me back on the bottom of a learning curve. I revisited them again, with only slightly better results, and then decided to try one more time with much-improved digital editing skills and the suite of neural AI filters in the latest version of Photoshop. I even colourized one frame just to see what might have been possible if I'd had the nerve to load colour film in my camera all those years ago.

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

What we Do - Part 4

Summary: Marc, Steven, and Jake are learning to live together. Old habits are hard to break and old lies are even harder to remove.  Jake struggles to find his place.

Continuation of “What we see”. This is going to be a series.

Pairing: They're all friends here. And Layla saves the day.

Word count:  2589

Part one Here.

Part Two Here.

Part Three Here.

 Part Four: Jake's secret life is falling apart. Marc and Steven are less than helpful when it comes to hiding his problems from a friend.

-----

To say Jake was pissed was putting it very mildly. 

Mistakes were made and he let his latest target get the drop on him. A baseball bat to the head and knife to his side was still not enough to stop him from bringing ‘True Justice’ to the world, but he hardly made it half a block back to his car before the world had taken a dramatic nose dive and he’d blacked out. 

Now he floated in and out, barely able to hear the sounds of Marc and Steven yelling about something. Blood loss maybe. Or possibly the mild concussion that was threatening to give them all a run for their money. 

He fought for front position just long enough to try to point them towards his car. He wasn’t foolish enough to try to drive home, but the idea of being somewhere familiar and safe appealed to him greatly. Not to mention the medical kit he kept in the trunk. 

“Marc.” Jake mumbled. “Med kit.” 

“What the hell did you do?” Marc rubbed the back of his head tenderly. It wasn’t the first time he’d been bashed in the head and at least this time it didn’t feel like a fractured skull. 

“Marc!” Steven chewed on his lower lip nervously. “Marc it’s bled through!” Steven had been clutching a balled up shirt to the wound tightly. 

“Yeah, it’ll do that.” Marc glanced down at the fancy shirt that was now beyond ruined. He hoped Jake liked that shirt. It served him right. “Just keep holding pressure.” 

“Not that deep.” Jake closed his eyes and took a few more steps. This was not nearly as bad as getting shot. “Just a bad spot. Hit a vessel I think.” 

“What are you, a doctor now?” Marc took a peak at the wound. 

“I paid attention.” Jake huffed. “Military basic med training.” 

A car on the street blasted a horn and sent a wave of pain through his head. “Mierda…” 

They sank to the ground and waited for the ringing to stop. 

“Mister Sunshine?” A warm familiar voice called out to them. 

Jake looked up to see Gena standing before him. “No. No no no…” He felt a wave of nausea and started to sink back. He couldn’t keep going like this. “Get to the car…” he muttered to the others and blacked out. 

Steven looked up at the woman, taking in her friendly and concerned face. “Sorry. Don’t mean to be making a scene.” Steven immediately winced as he looked around for the car. Marc was putting his everything into just holding compression at the wound. “I’m alright.” 

“Honey, you don’t look alright.” Gena frowned and knelt down next to him. “Can you stand? My place isn’t far. It’ll be safe there. You aren’t being followed are you?” 

Steven shot a panicked look behind him. Whoever had done this to Jake might still be back there. What if they were coming to finish the job? 

“No.” Marc muttered. “It’s doubtful whoever did this is able to follow anyone at this point.” 

Gena nodded and helped them to their feet. Once steady, she guided them across the street to an old apartment building. She thankfully lived on the ground floor or Steven was sure he’d have passed out on the first step. 

They were set down in a kitchen chair and Gena brought a clean towel over. “Let’s have a look, hun. If it looks bad, I’m going to call an ambulance. That’s just how it is.” 

Steven looked down at the soaked shirt, his hand trembling. “Sorry. I don’t want to get blood all over your nice kitchen.” He looked around at the small apartment. It was cozy and well lived in. Pictures cluttered the walls of two young boys in various stages of life and school books were stacked on the table. 

“Nonsense.” Gena put her hands on her hips. “Come on, Jake. Let me see.” 

Marc stared at her openly for a moment. She knew Jake. What secret was this he was keeping? He slowly peeled the soaked shirt away and accepted the clean towel from her. “It’s stopped gushing. That’s a good sign.” Marc sat back in the chair. “Bastard probably just nicked a vessel or something.” 

Gena eyed them for a moment then moved to get a bowl of water and some clean kitchen gloves. “Alright, Mister Sunshine. Let’s get you cleaned up. Anywhere else injured?” 

She dabbed the towel in the water and slowly started to clean up the wound. Once all the old crusted blood was off it didn’t seem so bad, though it probably could use a few stitches. More of a gash than a stab. 

“My head.” Steven lifted a hand to the back of his head. “Feels like it was hit.” He chanced another look around the apartment. “You have a lovely place here. Are those your kids?” 

Gena raised an eyebrow. “Mister Sunshine, I don’t do head injuries. Our deal was that I’d help you out the best I can, and this might be beyond what I can.” 

Steven took a moment to push back the pounding headache and truly assessed his situation. “You know me, right? I mean of course you know me. Just not me… Terribly sorry. This must seem weird. Ah… You know Jake? Jake Lockley?” 

A surge of panic flooded forward as Jake attempted to shut everything down all at once. 

“Ah-ah.” Marc gripped the edges of the chair to ground himself and refused to be tricked to the back. “Can I use the bathroom?” 

Gena continued to stare at him, concern etched deep across her face. “Of course. Want me to come with? You pass out in there and I have to break down the door…” 

Marc waved a hand and climbed to his feet. “I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse. Just need a moment.” 

He swayed for a moment as he waited for the pounding in his head to lessen. He took a slow step then staggered towards what looked to be the bathroom door. Once inside he shut the door and leaned heavily on the counter. 

“Alright, Jake. Explain yourself.” Marc looked in the mirror firmly. 

Jake looked back with utter annoyance. He looked tired, curls hanging down in his face, and a fat bloody lip pulled into a tight frown. “I was careless. I didn’t see the man behind me with the bat. Obviously I missed the one with the knife after I was hit. Those pendejos were taken care of. They won’t be a problem again.” 

“So, you were mugged?” Steven winced and reached up to tenderly touch the swollen lip. It jutted out painfully on his worried face. They would need to ice it soon before it got worse. 

Jake was silent for a moment. How easy it would be just to lie. Steven would believe him. Marc might question it, but it would be so easy… How could he be so stupid? 

“No.” Jake looked away. “They put an old man in the hospital last night. They stole his wallet and threatened his family. I decided to do something about it.” 

“You decided to do something about it?” Marc frowned, “We don’t do that sort of thing anymore.” 

“No, you don’t do that sort of thing.” Jake scowled. “I cannot turn my back on someone in need.” 

“I don’t kill people, Jake!” Marc pointed at the mirror angrily. “We can’t go down this path anymore!” 

“Quiet!” Jake hissed. “She’ll hear you!” Jake ran a hand through his hair. 

“Who is she?” Steven glanced back at the door. “She seems really nice. You and her aren’t, you know… are you?” 

“What?” Jake started. “No! Of course not! She is a good friend. She’s from Chicago. I helped her out once or twice with some things. Please, she doesn’t…” 

“Doesn’t know about us.” Marc sighed. “Bit late. She might think you’ve got a serious concussion.” 

“We might have a serious concussion.” Steven rubbed the back of his head. “Helping people is important, but maybe next time clue us in, yeah? As much as I loved waking up in the middle of some battle getting shot at, I think waking up after being stabbed is just about as fun.” 

Jake looked down at the wound and nodded. “I messed up. I would never put us in danger. I thought… It isn’t important.” 

A knock on the door made them all jump. “Jake?” Gena called out. “You alright? Your phone out here keeps ringing.” 

Marc sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment “Yeah. I’m fine.” He opened the door and looked at Gena fully. She looked vaguely familiar. 

“Everything alright?” She held up an ice pack. 

“I’m okay.” Marc offered a grim smile as he took the pack and held it to his head. “Got any tape? For the wound. I just need some gauze and tape.” 

Gena sighed and beckoned him back out to the kitchen. “Yeah. My oldest boy, Ray, isn’t exactly the picture of grace. I still keep a good kit.” She pulled a first aid box out of a cabinet. 

Marc looked through the kit and tried to remember his medical training. Most of his training had been about what to do when shot, not that it had helped him in any of the instances where he had been shot. 

Jake moved and picked out an iodine wipe, antibiotic ointment, and a large sterile gauze pad. “Yeah, I got it.” Marc muttered as he snatched up the tape wrap before Jake could. 

Steven wanted to ask her so many questions. He wanted to know more about how Jake had helped her. About her sons. If they knew one another back in America. He also knew that his accent wasn’t exactly subtle. Reluctantly he sat back and watched as Marc bandaged himself up. 

“You know.” Gena helped him with the bandages, holding it in place for him and pressing the tape on firmly. “This is the first time I’ve gotten you into my home. I’ve been trying to get you over here for a proper meal for ages. Pay you back in some way for all you’ve done for us. Boys will be sad they missed you.” 

Marc nodded, hoping to not have to answer any questions. Jake didn’t want her to know. She was a secret, but some secrets might be alright. 

His phone rang and Layla’s name popped up on the simple screen. 

“Go on, answer it!” Gena gave him a look. “That’s her, isn’t it? The lovely lady we talked about.” 

“Uh huh.” Marc was suddenly more than a little conscious of his own accent. Was it close enough to Jake’s? A vague memory surfaced of him smiling before his father, trying to convince him that everything was fine. The British boy was just a game and nothing to be worried about. 

He flipped open the phone and winced as Layla about blasted through the phone. “Marc I swear if you are dead again I will summon Taweret just to kick your ass!” 

“I’m alright.” Marc gave Gena a nervous smile then turned away, as if that might help hide the conversation. “It was just a light stabbing.” 

“A light stabbing? What is a light stabbing? Where are you?” She sounded frantic. Guilt welled up as he imagined how many times he had put her through this. 

“I’m really okay, love.” Steven came forward swiftly. He was good at keeping things calm. “Someone found me and is helping me get cleaned up.” He smiled back at Gena and gave a wave. “It’s the lady from the diner.” 

Of course. Marc remembered passing past there a few times. She had always watched him walk by as if expecting him to come inside. That explained the strange looks. 

“Stay there.” Layla sighed as if her very soul could pop out. “I’m going to get you. Where are you?” 

“Uh.” Steven glanced around. A familiar sensation of being lost and confused. “I’m not really sure… We were-” 

A struggle as Jake tried to front. This was too much. Too much to explain. Everything that was his and so carefully hidden was suddenly being swept away. 

They must have sat still for a moment too long as Gena gently lifted the phone from their hand. 

“Heya hun. This is Gena. You know the market with the giant flashing sign on fifteenth? I’m in the apartment just across from it. I’ll meet you outside.” Gena gave them a side look. 

Marc nodded as she hung up and handed him back the phone. “Thanks…” 

Gena sighed. “I had an uncle back in the states. Uncle Clark. Everyone in the family called him crazy. Said not to get too close to him ‘cause he was strange or listen to a word he said. I never really understood what they were afraid of. Not like it was catching.” 

Marc looked down silently. 

She moved to pack up the medical kit. “I loved Uncle Clark. He was so kind and gentle. He liked to talk about the weather. Clouds and the wind. He could predict a storm better than the weather channel. He was different. Sometimes he had bad days and he was hard to understand, but I was never afraid of him.” 

“I don’t-” Marc started. 

“Crazy isn’t who we are. Crazy is a word used by people that don’t know how to tolerate those that don’t fit their definition of normal.” Gena pointed to the neglected ice pack. “Put that on your head before you swell up. I’m going to go watch for your girl. You don’t have to tell me anything. I’ll serve you eggs and coffee any time. We can pretend none of this happened if you really want.” 

She grabbed a coat and headed to the door. 

“Thank you, amiga.” Jake looked up. 

They sat in silence for a moment after Gena left. 

“I’m sorry.” Steven started. “I didn’t mean to… Let her know about me?” 

“No.” Jake waved a hand. “You didn’t know. Stress makes it worse. We were injured and I didn’t tell you. This is my fault. I let us get injured. I failed.” 

“We’ll talk more about this stabbing later.” Marc sighed. “I didn’t mean to out you in front of your friend.” 

Jake held the ice pack to his head. “You were a bit of an ass.” 

“You forgive Steven but not me?” Marc scoffed. 

“You are not Steven.” Jake shrugged. “You know better. But it is not your fault.” 

“Thanks.” Marc sighed. “We ready for Layla? She’s going to kill us.” 

“Maybe I should handle this…” Steven shifted in the chair. “She likes me more.” 

“She’s my wife.” Marc grumbled. 

“It’s my fault.” Jake leaned back. “Let her yell at me.” 

The door flew open and Layla ran in. She stopped and stared at them, fists clenched tightly. “You! You dumb idiot! I was so worried! Are you okay? What happened?” 

“Jake did it!” Steven sat up quickly. “But he was trying to protect someone! These muggers beat up an old man and Jake couldn’t let that stand!” 

Layla ran her hands through her hair and all the tension left her face slowly. She walked over to them and pulled them close, resting her lips gently on his forehead. “Don’t you ever ever scare me like this again.” 

“I’m sorry.” Jake slowly leaned in and rested against her warm body. He was exhausted and everything hurt, but he felt safe. 

[ericac318]

A Stakeout

Summery: Things get a little boring while Luke and Robin are watching their latest suspect. A one-shot that takes place before my story Multiple Entanglements

Robin turned in her seat, fighting boredom while keeping Luke from noticing. They’d only been working together for six months and she didn’t want to look bad in front of a legend.

“Are you alright, Agent Carter?” he inquired, “How long has it been since you took part in a stakeout?” he added.

She nodded, “I’m great. I just wish I’d brought a book or maybe some word searches,” she admitted, looking away from his gaze, afraid she’d see judgment on his face.

“This type of work is about patience,” Luke began, “I looked at your scores from the Farm. You excelled in these situations. Almost all of your instructors complimented your composure. Is there something else going on?”

Robin didn’t want to admit that part of her problem was that she was distracted by her feelings for him. She knew from her team that he was working on winning his ex-wife back so there was no point in pursuing her interests. She needed to think of a quick lie.

She shrugged, “I think I’m just a little bit intimidated by you. Roo and Aldon are always talking about how many amazing things you’ve done. I’m not sure I belong on this team,” she told a half-truth, causing Luke to shake his head.

“There’s no need,” he replied his tone tender, “You earned your place on this team. Are you sure that’s the only thing bothering you?” He was giving her another chance, to be honest.

Robin took a deep breath, “You’re right, there is something else, but I really don’t want to talk about it. I hope that’s alright?”

Luke nodded, even though he already knew what was on her mind. Roo had told him that Robin had feelings for him because she’d noticed that he was attracted to her. “You have every right to keep whatever it is to yourself. If you change your mind, we have all night,” he offered before silence resumed between them.

A few hours passed before Robin couldn’t handle the tension that was building between them, for another second. 

“Ok, I’ll tell you what’s bothering me,” she burst out, “But, if things get awkward then we pretend I never spoke, deal?”

Luke gave a simple nod as his response. 

She took that as a go-ahead before she started explaining, “I am not usually unprofessional like this. I need to make that clear.” She swallowed before continuing, “I tried to ignore these feelings but I haven’t been able to. I am into you, Luke Brunner, like deeply. The reason that I’m having such a hard time during this stakeout is because of that and also because I can think of some fun ways for us to pass the time…” She let her words linger in the air, hoping she didn’t just ruin a brand new relationship, no matter how things shook out.

Luke didn’t answer right away as he thought over his words. Finally, he took a deep breath and spoke, “If you’d told me this two, or even three, months ago, I would have told you that I am still devoted to my ex-wife and that we couldn’t have any kind of future. However, after working with you, I can confirm that I have developed feelings for you two. I’m not sure what you mean when we say we could make this stakeout more fun, but I would like to take you out on a date after the mission is complete,” he confessed.

“I would really like that,” Robin replied as her lips curled into a mischievous smile, “I was kind of thinking that I could scratch the itch now, though. I’m very aware that you’re old-fashioned, but we could have a lot of fun while we wait on our target to make a move,” she added as she moved onto her knees on her seat, angling herself to face him while she placed her hand on his thigh.

He nearly held his breath to hide his reaction to her touch, “If we do this, we need to keep it quiet. Even if some of the team know we have feelings for each other, they can never know that we’re acting on them. Can you do that?”

“Of course, I’m a spy,” she said before she inched her hand further up his thigh until she reached the obvious bulge in his jeans. “Are you sure you want to move forward and have our nice first date later?”

Luke let out a hiss as he felt her start rubbing him through his pants, “I’m sure,” he agreed as he started to pull her over onto his lap before his expression took on a look of confusion at her shaking her head.

“I have a very specific idea,” she whispered, leaning in toward his ear, “One of us has to keep watch,” she added as she undid his belt first and then moved to undo his jean.

A guttural groan escaped his lips as she grasped him in her hand before she started to move up and down, painfully slowly, ensuring he was ready.

After Luke released a few frustrated moans, Robin took pity on him and removed her hand, replacing it with her mouth. She ran her tongue from the base of his shaft to the tip before she engulfed him between her lips, smiling as she felt his hand grasping her hair.

With each small noise and grunt Luke made, Robin felt herself getting wetter but she resisted the urge to touch herself, too consumed with him.

He surprised her when he suddenly removed her mouth from her, hosting her onto his lap until she was straddling him. “I don’t want our first time to be about just me,” he whispered as he ran his hand up her leg until he could move her panties to the side, allowing her to adjust before she sank down on him.

She moaned as she felt his fingers dig into her hips before she started moving up and down on him, both of them already close. 

“I can’t wait for our first real date,” she nearly yelled out as she felt her orgasm take over, forcing herself to keep moving. She could feel him starting to twitch as she clenched around him and knew he wouldn’t be far behind.