#am i gonna need a fucking beta reader just for this ONE PART of this ONE CHAPTER???

[gators-aid]

decode (pt. 3) - toji f. x reader

masterlist

part two | part four

previously titled: leave us

you and toji fushiguro have been in an on-again-off-again relationship all throughout high school. over the summer break after graduation, you find out you're pregnant. too bad toji has already skipped town after your last breakup.

tags: fem!reader, cheating, underage (mentions they have sex, but nothing explict, toji and reader are high school freshmen), mentioned eating disorder (not really a disorder, reader just forgets to eat, tag is just in case), mention of domestic abuse (not between toji & reader), americanized setting, non sorcerer universe, 00's setting, reader is megumi's mom, exes to lovers (eventually), their relationship is toxic rn, not beta read we die like toji :(

wc: 3.4k

You had met Toji in your first year of high school at some house party. Some sophomore that Utahime knew was throwing it, giving the two of you an in. 

You and Utahime had been dancing on the dude’s couch, bottles in hand. You had never really drank before, but you made sure to keep yourself aware enough to get the two of you home by the end of the night. Your house was a fifteen minute walk from here, and your plan was to sneak the two of you through your window before three. 

That’s when you saw him. He was leaning against the wall talking to some girl. Just by his looks, you thought he might have been a couple years above you. He was tall, taller than most guys in the house, and definitely more muscular. You were immediately attracted, Utahime giggled at you once she saw where you were looking. “You should go talk to him!” She slurred, still moving to the sound of the music with you. 

“Seems like he’s got his hands busy.” You whisper-yelled over the music. He had them all over that girl.

“Utahime!” You heard from below the two of you. Hakari, the guy whose house this was (and your future coworker), held on to her hand as she almost stumbled over to look down at him. “We’re gonna play seven minutes in heaven! Y’all wanna come?” 

“That’s fucking corny!” Utahime giggled, “Let’s go, Y/N!” The two of you followed in a straight line behind Hakari to a relatively empty, but still extremely loud hallway. You all sat down in a circle with a group of students you didn’t recognize. 

“Hey, you guys weren’t gonna start the fun without us, right?” You hear from behind you. It’s the guy from earlier. He pushes his hair (you think it's black, but can’t tell from the lighting) back and takes a swig of a beer bottle. The girl from earlier is with him, along with another guy you didn’t recognize. 

“Toji, let us use that bottle. Hakari broke the other one!” One guy yells over the music. “Thought this was seven minutes in heaven,” A girl with stark white hair begins, “You don’t need a bottle for that game.” 

“Too much work to write everyone’s names down, there’s a bunch of freshmen here. I don’t know them.” Hakari responds. 

“Scoot over!” The tall guy, Toji, yells at you over the music, and you do. Allowing his group of three to squeeze in next to you. Utahime giggles and leans over your lap to address him. “Hey!” She yells, almost falling over your lap. “What’s your name? My friend Y/N-”

“I’ll go first!” you yell, hoping to silence her before she can say anything embarrassing.

“Wheeeew look at the brave young freshman!” Hakari yells. “Hey, what’s your name again?” You ignore him and spin the bottle. 'Damn,' you think, 'I’m actually going to have to go into a closet with someone after this.' You just wanted to interrupt Utahime. 

It lands on some guy you don't recognize.

“Wee woo wee woo!” Hakari yells, mocking a police siren. “New rule, freshman and senior pairings will not be allowed! Go again!” he yells at you. The group bursts out laughing as you grab the bottle to spin again. 

The bottle spins and spins until it lands on… the girl that Toji was making out with earlier. She makes a face and looks at you. “I’m not into girls, sorry!” She yells. 

“I am!” Utahime announces to the group. 

“What the hell, Takako, you have such a dirty mind!” Hakari says. You can feel Toji eyeing you. It’s slightly unsettling. “Seven minutes in heaven does not imply romantic or sexual advances!” 

She scoffs, “Then why didn’t you let her go in there with Kenjaku?” You’re doing everything you can to avoid Toji’s gaze. Seriously, what was this dude’s problem? Was there something on your face? Did your makeup come off to reveal the big ass pimple on your cheek? Shit, you knew you should’ve used more setting spray.

“Because it’s my duty to protect the young women attending my party, Takako! Better safe than sorry.” 

Suddenly, you see a hand go down to the bottle and tilt it slightly. It’s Toji, and he’s pointed the bottle directly at himself. “Well, would you look at that! Seems like the bottle has mysteriously landed on me and not Takako!” He yells over the music. 

You take this time to finally look him in the face. From this close, you notice the scar on the side of his lip, his piercing green eyes. 

“But…” you say, confused, “they said no seniors and freshmen.” 

The group bursts into laughter. “Don’t know if I should be offended or not.” He says. 

“He’s in our year, Y/N!” Utahime exclaims, “He’s in my algebra class, I couldn’t remember his name though…” 

“Wait, this isn’t how it works!” Takako says, panicked. Now that you’ve already looked at Toji, you can see her arm locked into his, she’s yelling into the group’s circle. 

“The bottle lands where it lands!” Toji says, throwing his arms up. “Come on, mama,” he starts, untangling from Takako. “We got seven minutes.”

He grabs your arm and leads you to the hall closet. You can hear whoops and whistles from behind you, but you don’t know if it’s from your small group or from the rest of the party goers. 

He turns the light on, and the two of you push back winter coats to make room in the closet. He closes the door behind the two of you. For a moment he’s quiet. He just looks at you. “You’re really pretty.” He says, leaning against the door, a little too cockily for a high school freshman. 

“Thanks.” You say quietly. It’s a little less loud in the closet, music muffled by the bundle of winter coats. “Is um.. Is Takako your girlfriend or something?”

He laughs, “Why do you ask?” 

“Because it’s pretty fucked up if you took me in here with her sitting right out there.” 

He smiles. “Nah.” He says, leaning closer to you. “She’s not.” 

You can feel his breath on your face, and smell his cologne from here. It’s a little strong, you can smell the beer in his breath too. “She’s into you though,” you say. He leans closer and you put your hand gently on his chest. Your lips are millimeters apart. “That was kinda mean,” He laughs again. “To be really, really honest, I don’t give a fuck about her.” 

“That's really mean.” You respond, and suddenly your lips are on each other. This isn’t your first kiss, but Toji makes it feel like it is. You two grasp onto each other desperately, hold onto each other like you’ve known each other for years, like he’s a long lost love. 

It doesn’t escalate from there, you two just kiss and kiss and kiss. 

You don’t notice how long it’s been until you hear a knock on the door. Toji pulls away from your face and rests his forehead on yours. “Damn.” He says, licking his lips. 

That night, Toji had offered to drive you and Utahime home. You had spent the last couple hours at the party together, you continued drinking while Toji refrained, wanting to drive you home. 

He had helped you sneak Utahime into your bedroom. In your time spent with Toji, you hadn’t noticed her drinking more and more, so by the time you got her into Toji’s car, she was passed out cold. 

You had held Utahime in your arms as Toji climbed into your window and pulled her through. You climbed in after. 

“Thank you so much.” You said to him as the two of you lay her in your bed. “You’re seriously a life saver.” 

“It’s no problem, anything for a pretty lady like you.” You rolled your eyes. 

He climbed back out your window, turning around to face you one more time before you left. You lent onto your window sill and smiled at him. “I’ll see you on Monday?” you asked. He smiled back. “I’ll see you then.” He lent up and kissed you on the lips once more before turning back around and walking to his truck. 

You did see him on Monday. And almost every Monday after. 

You and Toji became incredibly close incredibly fast. Toji clung to you for affection, you clung to him for attention. You sat together at lunch everyday. He’d buy you Cokes from the overpriced vending machine and you’d invite him into your bedroom everytime it got to be too much at home. You guys never officially started dating, it just seemed like it happened overnight. 

He never came over during the day. You were too nervous to tell your mother and he was too nervous to meet her. 

She didn’t know you even had a boyfriend until Toji cheated on you. Not the best introduction. You were working late at the diner, you often did on weekends to speed up the process of your college fund. It was Shoko who had told you. 

She, Geto, and Gojo had come to the diner after leaving a party. They were all clearly a little tipsy, so one of the older servers had passed them off onto you. “I’m not dealing with definitely-not-drunk teenagers at this time of night. I’m ready to go home.” 

“Oh my god! I know you! You’re Y/N! We’re in the same government class!” Geto slurred. You smiled at him. “How are you guys doing? You go to Hakari’s party?” You asked.

“Yeah! It was really fun, but Gojo’s curfew is at one so we gotta get him sobered up.” Geto supplied.

“Hey, Y/N, are you still with Toji? I see you too together alllllll the time at school.” Gojo slurred. You laughed. “Kind of.” You and Toji had gotten into an argument that afternoon. Toji was going to that same party, and you, having to work, couldn’t go with. Somehow, it turned into an argument about who does more for who. You weren’t broken up, and you weren’t on a break, but you were both certainly angry with each other. 

“Ohhhh what the fuck?” Gojo said, looking wide-eyed at his friends. They all looked between each other, clearly confused and talking to each other through their facial expressions. 

“Uhh, Y/N, can you just get us some waters, and can you get Gojo like an omelet or some shit?” Shoko says. “Uhh yeah! Of course!” 

“No mushrooms!” Gojo shouts as you walk away. You turn and give him a thumbs up. 

That whole night, you could feel the tension from the table. Like they all felt bad for you. Like they pitied you. After they paid the bill and Geto and Gojo walked out, Shoko called you over. “Hey, Y/N, you almost done working?” She asked. 

“Yeah, you guys were my last table for tonight. What’s up?” 

“Look,” she says, “I don’t know what’s up with you and Toji, it’s not my business, but I think you should probably know he and Takako were all over each other at Hakari’s tonight.” She looked into your eyes to gauge a reaction. 

Your heart had dropped. You could feel your fingertips tingling like you had lost all the blood in them. They felt lighter than the rest of your body. “Oh, uh, yeah it's not a big deal.” You say. You start to wring your hands on your waist apron. “Thanks for letting me know, though.” You attempt a smile at her. She looks at you with pity and concern, until you can almost visibly see her say ‘fuck it’ in her head. She leans in and gives you a hug. 

You vowed it not to be true, but Shoko had no reason to lie to you. Gojo and Geto had no reason to act so strange when you mentioned you’re still with Toji. Shoko bringing up Takako was not a coincidence. 

You squeeze her back and you can feel your breathing picking up. “T-Thank, um, Thank you.” you say. 

You didn’t call him when your shift was over for him to pick you up as usual, instead opting to take the bus route. You got home that night, thankful to see that your mother had already gone to sleep. You ignored the food she left for you in the fridge and went straight to the shower.

You didn’t cry until you got into bed, when you could smell his cologne on your pillow. You stayed like that for hours. Curled up, silently sobbing, until you heard a light knocking on your window. You knew who it was. The only person it could be, 

“Y/N?” He whispered through the window. He sounded panicked. You could hear the pane slide up and him climb in. 

“Oh, shit, thank god.” He whispered, climbing into your bed. His voice was shaking. “Hey, you awake, mama?”

You turned around to face him. “You had me scared, baby.” He said, moving your hair out of your face. “You never called after your shift. Just ‘cause you’re mad at me doesn’t mean I won’t come get you.”

“You fucked her, didn’t you?” You asked, your voice cracking.

“Huh?” 

“You. Fucked. Her. Didn’t. You?” 

His hand froze on your cheek. 

You sat up in your bed. “You fucked her, and then you wanted to come and see me after?” You asked, voice rising with each word. 

“Hey-”

“What?” You ask. You’re fully yelling now. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Y/N, stop yelling.” He warns. He stands up from the bed. You stand up and get in his face.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Toji!” You pushed his chest. He didn’t move an inch. “You don’t get to come in here, acting like you’re all worried about me! Acting like you give a fuck!” You were full on sobbing by now.

“Y/N-”

“What the hell is going on in here?” You hear your door swing open and whip around to see your mother standing at the door with a baseball bat in hand. 

Shit.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house? Get the hell out of here!” 

Toji books it out the window, looking at you one last time before leaving. 

“What the hell are you thinking, Y/N? You have a boy in here?” She yells at you. “You’re too young for this! Doing this under my roof, are you insane?” 

You just stand there staring at the floor. “Mom?” You ask, voice cracking. She sets the bat down by your door and rushes to your side. “Did he hurt you? Y/N? What did he do?” You cling onto the back of her shirt and cry into her neck. “Mom-” Is all you can get out before you’re violently shaking and you can feel your knees give out. 

It’s a week later when you see Toji again. Your mother had let you stay home from school for a day, and when you got back, Toji was nowhere to be found. 

Word got around school quickly. If it hadn’t been Shoko who told you, It could’ve been ten other people. Utahime and Saori, another girl you befriended, became your lunch buddies, taking Toji’s place. 

You didn’t want to seem as hurt as you felt, not with Takako grinning at you in the halls every time she saw you. 

He was at your window that night. You didn’t have work, and had taken the free time to catch up on some assignment you had missed. You heard a knock on your window and immediately tensed. “Fuck.” You whispered to yourself when you heard the pane slide up. 

You hadn’t even thought about locking your window. Didn’t expect Toji to want anything to do with you. 

“I saw the light on." He explained, like it gave him the right to come in, "Can we talk?” He whispered, “and can you not yell?” You didn’t look up at him. He towered over you from where you sat at your desk. “Can’t promise you anything.” You said. You pretended to work on an algebra problem, but you couldn’t focus with him in the room. 

“Come with me to my truck then.” He pleads. You tap your pencil on the wooden desk and turn your head to look up at him. He looks a mess. Hair mussed like he hadn’t brushed it in days, clothes rumpled and stained. His right eye sports a fading black ring around it. 

You bite your lip. You refuse to show any concern, but you're too curious. You point your pencil at his eye, “What happened there?” He stares at you for a second.

“Can you come or not?” He asks. This would be a common occurrence throughout the rest of your relationship. Toji showing up with a new bruise and brushing you off when you question it.

“Can you answer my question?” You taunt back. 

“Please, Y/N.” 

You sigh and throw your pencil down on the desk. “I’m doing homework, Toji.” You respond. 

“Please.” He begs. 

You know you shouldn’t. You and your mother had had a lengthy conversation just this morning. “You need to stay away from boys like him.” she said as she moved around the kitchen to prepare you breakfast. This hadn’t been a common occurrence until she noticed you had stopped eating. It wasn’t intentional, you just didn’t have the energy for it anymore. “They don’t do anything but lead you down a path you don’t want to go down, Y/N.” She says, placing a plate of eggs and toast in front of you. “He’s showing you who he is right now. Believe him.” 

You contemplated it. You knew, deep down, that you shouldn’t. Knew you should’ve called for your mom the second he tapped on your window. But you didn’t. 

“Okay.” 

The two of you crawled out of your window and walked a few houses down to Toji’s truck, parked in an abandoned parking lot. The two of you hop in at the same time. You had suddenly wished you grabbed your coat. It wasn’t necessarily cold, you just wanted something to comfort you. 

“I fucked up.” There it is. His voice, even if he’s saying something incredibly delusional and ridiculous, that is your comfort. He turns in his seat to face you. You do the same, your foot coming up to rest in the seat. 

“I really, really fucked up.” 

“So what’s your excuse?” You ask. You know it’s a bit hurtful. That was a little intentional.

“I just.. I don’t have one.” 

You think about that for a second. “Sooo…” you begin with a laugh, suddenly ten times more bitter than before. “You had sex with another girl… just because?” You ask.

He has nothing to say to that. 

“What am I to you, Toji?” 

He looks at you for a second like he’s pondering. Trying to put it into words, or maybe trying to come up with something. You didn’t know. 

“Everything.” He says, finally.

You smile. It’s a nasty, bitter smile. “That so?” You ask. “I’d hate to see how you treat someone you hate. Gotta be pretty bad.”

“Baby..”

“I’m sorry if I’m misunderstanding you here.” You say, you put your foot back onto the floor of his truck. “You brought me out here, interrupted me, mind you, to what? Tell me that you cheated on me because you felt like it?” 

You don’t think you’ve ever been this angry in your life. You get out of the car. Not waiting for a response. You slam the door, briskly walking back home. 

“Y/N! Come the fuck on!” You can hear him slamming the door and following you. “Don’t walk out here by yourself.” He’s being dramatic. Your house is literally within your field of vision. You can hear his feet rushing to catch up to you. You turn around and point your finger at his chest. “Leave me the fuck alone.” You say with as much conviction as you can muster. 

He does. 

When you get back home, you realize you had left your phone on your desk next to your abandoned algebra homework. You have a message from Utahime waiting for you. When you open your flip phone up, you read

hime <3: wanna go 2 hakari’s w me this fri?

Suddenly you have an idea. Make him hurt like you did. Maybe a little worse, if he cared about you at all, that is. Deep down you knew he did. Even if only a little. 

you: ofc :)

longer chapter for tonight! i'm having fun writing this! thank you for the support!

i changed the name to decode because i was listening to it while writing this chapter and it was a little bit too perfect. everybody say thank you hayley williams.

other songs i listened to while writing include

breaking benjamin - diary of jane

foo fighters - everlong

bts (suga) - trivia: seesaw

paramore - all i wanted

i feel like im on drugs rn

tag list, comment to be added

@mechalily @nialiuwanderlust @xo-evangeline @ilovebattinson @cherrypieyourface @amaiyasha @erensslut

[pluto-supremacy]

Vi Headcanons: dating f!reader at Stillwater

➼ Yes I am breaking my rule of no f!reader because I wanted to write for Vi so bad. So I'm gonna set a new precedent now: I'll write f!reader IF it is a wlw fic/headcanons/whatever. Though this is more of just a lil treat since the brainrot is rotting

➼ Might end up turning this into a full fic, if you want that let me know! (It did! Here's part two)

➼ No beta we die like Sky

➼ Warnings: None!

GIF does not belong to me! All credits to the owner

Whenever there is free time, Vi is at your side. You two usually find some corner away from the others to try and get away, pretend you two can have a moment to yourselves

She's always giving you her food, you don't even need to ask. She'll happily let you pick at her plate if you're still hungry or you haven't eaten in a while due to lockdown

You're lucky enough to only be two cells away from each other, you two often get in trouble for talking during lights out

If you're ever in trouble, Vi takes the beatings for you. She can and has thrown herself between you and a guard and is not afraid to do it again

Same obviously goes for inmates

"If you want to keep your tongue in your mouth, I suggest you leave her alone"

Though not many inmates mess with you considering your personal body guard of a girlfriend

If you're ever thrown into solitary, Vi goes crazy. Getting into more fights than usual, refusing food, even trying to break into solitary to be with you

If you want, she gives you both matching tattoos there with whatever device she can get her hands on. She lets you pick out the design and the placement

Anytime she gets clean clothes, bandages, and hygiene supplies (all of which are of course a rarity there), she uses them/gives them to you first. Bandages up any new cuts of yours or changes your dirty ones, gives you her new toothbrush and toothpaste, and so on. You'll have to fight her on at least sharing some of the items, like the new tube of toothpaste. She just wants to make sure you're taken care of

"Just scored a new hairbrush. Go ahead and take it, bun. Need to keep your hair brushed so I can play with it, yeah?"

Vi cuts your hair for you there and takes it super seriously. She's not gonna let you walk around with a shitty haircut

Though she did fuck it up once (or a few times, but they were smaller mistakes that were easy to hide)

To make up for that godawful haircut she gave herself a bad one too. It's just hair, after all, it grows back

She'll stand guard while you're showering. Make sure no one's gaze is lingering around on you. Also lets you shower first so if there is any hot water you'll get it

Vi is a portable bed for you. Whenever you're together and you want to rest, she'll try to find a quieter place and let you rest your head on her shoulder/in her lap. She plays with your hair while you're sleeping and checks your pulse every now and then. Just to make sure you're still there with her

Whenever you get sick there, she will make the biggest fuss to get you to medical. If that isn't an option Vi does her best to take care of you with the limited resources you both have

"Snuck a bit of that honey from breakfast. Try and cover your throat in that and don't worry about talking, okay Y/N?"

During bunk inspections, if you have any contraband, Vi takes it and hides it in her cell. She rarely ever gets caught with it, but she'd rather take the punches than have you on the receiving end of them

On the flipside Vi trades a lot of her own contraband to get things for you. Things like snacks, jewelry, hair dye, better clothes, anything other inmates have that you might want

Though if trading for those doesn't work, she will straight up steal them for you

When Caitlyn comes to release her for help with tracking down the stolen gemstone, she throws in a condition. An obvious one

"You're getting Y/N out too. That or you can try to find Silco on your own. Undercity is going to eat you alive without me"

And that's how you and your lover finally escape Stillwater

[apocalypse-shuffle]

PETER HALE | “CREEPER WOLF” (teen wolf)

—

“A Different Breed” (Peter Hale x Fem!Reader)

| With Lydia (& Allison) unwilling to help, and Peter unwilling to let himself be pushed around and fucked over by children, Peter finds other means to unlocking the secrets trapped in his late sister’s claws.

| SFW, canon divergence, manipulative!peter (what’s new though really?), reader is of African and Irish descent -banshee!reader

| 1k+ words

“Y/n L/n.”

Instinctually your brows furrow at the sound of your name even as you’re still looking at the ledgers on the library table.

“Yes?” You turn towards the person, a man. Trying not to seem rude you do him the favor of not looking at him as if he’s crazy for coming up to you with your full government name in his mouth. “If you’re looking for Ms. Fields she’s in the computer lab.”

He shakes his head. Something about the way he’s looking at you makes you stay stiff as you try to place if you’ve seen him before while leaning back on the table.

“Oh no,” he smiles in a way that’s probably supposed to be pleasant, “I’ve found exactly who I was looking for.”

Mhm. Part of your soul starts to ring out with danger bells but you don’t let him see that.

Planting your hands behind you on the desk you lean back some, inclining your head softly to the side, “What were you looking for me for?”

“Help.”

You nod slowly, dark fingers tapping against the edge of the table. This man doesn’t exactly give off the vibe of someone who needs (or trusts) help from anybody, but part of your job was literally helping people so you couldn’t call bullshit just yet.

You make sure to keep your expression open.

“Cool. What can I help you with, Mr… ?”

At your light promoting it’s like a flip switches and he suddenly remembers he has to seem far less suspicious than he’s otherwise been coming off.

His face loses its tension and in response you relax the tiniest bit as well.

“Hale,” he easily answers the inquiry.

The name pings at something familiar in your head. Hale…Hale? Ah!

“As in Talia Hale?”

The man’s eyebrows go up and a cool smile takes over his face.

“Yeah actually. I’m surprised you’re old enough to remember.”

You give him a tight lipped smile. He definitely isn’t looking to make a light library request if he’s a werewolf whose purposely sought you out.

“I’m in my 20’s actually. I went to school with Derek.”

He hums, a sound that might actually be signifying a genuine moment of interest.

“You know what? I thought your name sounded familiar.” He points to you, a roguish smile stretches across sharp features. “You were the basketball team’s manager, weren’t you?”

You snort despite yourself.

Out of all the reasons he could have remembered you by - the most likely of which being that you were one of the scant few black student body that went to BHS - that it was for basketball was a pleasant enough surprise.

“Yeah, I was, actually - and since you’re not Derek I’m gonna guess you’re his uncle.”

“Yes well,” he makes a low sound and meets your eyes, “I am his uncle. Peter.” He holds out his hand.

You only have a second to eye it in contemplation before it becomes socially unacceptable, but he’s got a really intense stare and you’re already nervous about this whole thing, so you end up biting the bullet before you can really think your decision through.

Hastily, you accept his outstretched hand to shake and immediately he uses the connection to pull himself closer. It forces you to knock your head back a bit to keep looking him in the face, your own face heating up.

Peter chuckles. It’s smooth and feels just a little patronizing and makes your eyebrow raise.

Those alarm bells from earlier start kicking up a fuss, whirring through your bloodstream like a tsunami. You keep a tightly controlled lid on it, but just barely.

Even as a beta Peter Hale was dangerous.

“You gonna stare at me with those pretty eyes all day, or you gonna tell me what you need?”

The corner of his eyes crinkle and his smile widens. His hand is still inhumanly warm against yours.

“Don’t knock yourself short, your eyes are pretty too.” He blinks down at you, eyes twinkling for a brief moment. “Like cognac diamonds.”

You bite the inside of your lip as Peter leans in even more, planting one of his hands next to yours on the table. Your breath speeds up as your bodies graze one another.

Casual as anything Peter leans down till your heads are level so he can whisper.

“Let’s cut the pretense, shall we, I know what you are.” Instantly you tense up again, eyes widening. Now his presence so close to you feels burning hot; nearly suffocating. Your palm is getting sweaty and your fingers are starting to creek at his tightening hold.

You swallow thickly, licking your lips. His breath puffs warmth onto the shell of your ear causing goosebumps to sprout along your brown skin.

“I'm going to need to use those abilities of yours.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You bite your lip harder after the poorly hidden shakiness in your voice meets your ears. The man - the wolf looming over you chuffs, voice going back to normal.

“Come on, Sweetheart. We both know that’s not true.” He straightens up then, his now free hand coming to press into his chest. “Let’s make this easier. I’m Peter Hale, big bad werewolf; and you’re Y/n L/n, prettiest banshee in Beacon Hills.”

“There’s other banshees in this town.”

He nods.

“Oh I know, but I’m not much into children and she wouldn’t be my type anyway. Now, you’re going to help me because teenage girls are brats.”

Your jaw works as you stare up at him. There’s not much you could even do in this situation other than go along or get your throat ripped out. You’d overheard some…things about Peter from your father the night he was admitted into the hospital that you’d rather not get a personal example of. Pack left hand, ruthless, it was good he wasn’t able to cause any more trouble.

“Fine,” you force out.

Eyes dropping, you glare daggers into the floor as he chuckles.

“Good choice.” He starts dragging you off towards one of the back rooms, “Now how advanced in your birthright are you? And who activated you?”

Your jaw clenches but you make yourself answer anyway.

“Since I graduated high school,” you glare at his back, “and not a who, a what.”

“Ah,” Peter nods and gestures for you to unlock the door. “The nemeton?”

Snatching your key ring from your pocket you shove the correct one into the hole and the second the key’s pulled back he’s knocking it open and shoving you in before him.

You stumble but quickly spin back around to keep your eyes on the werewolf.

“Yes,” you snap, “the nemeton was left defenseless and was just reacting to the only supernatural beings left, dormant or not.”

Peter locks and then leans against the door.

“Me and you,” he says, crossing his arms.

You hum an affirmative and go about shoving your rumpled clothes back into place.

“You’re a fucking asshole.”

“Noted.”

He has the audacity to throw you yet another one of those roguish smiles before those angelite eyes flash a supernatural electric blue.

That thing deep within you that turns your eyes white and forces a wail from your throat when death’s near rumbles inside your chest in response. You glare at Peter, shoving it down.

“Just tell me what you want.”

He claps before pulling a brown ornate jar out from behind his back.

“I want you to tell me what memory is trapped in these,” he scowls, “the full memory.”

“No shit,” you grunt.

When you reach for the jar he puts it more out of reach and inclines his head to give you a reproachful look though. You roll your eyes, the one time a man shows some interest in you and it’s this guy.

“I get it. The full memory or you’ll rip my throat out with your teeth or whatever.”

He scoffs but hands you the jar. You start to untwist it.

“The whole throat teeth thing is much more my nephew's style. No, I like to use my claws. There’s zero need for blood in my mouth when it’s sticking to my clothes.”

You grimace. Damn v-neck wearing bastard. No stable person talked like that, he was crazy, and you say as much out loud.

“So you're crazy?”

He laughs, sounding a little startled, and you dump the five werewolf claws into your palm. Ooookay.

“I’ve got to say, I like you way more than the other banshee I know.”

You grunt.

“Martin’s daughter, right?”

“Just the one,” he drawls.

You nod vaguely while inspecting the claws, turning them over with the fingers of your free hand. They’ve got a distinct hum of magic around them still, a particular frequency.

“These are Talia’s,” you state.

“Oh you are on a roll today, Sweetheart,” his eyes run over your body appreciatively before jumping back to your face. His smirk only widens at the unimpressed look you’re giving him, “now just tell me what she took from me.”

You give him one last pinched look before closing your eyes and clamping your fist around the sharp points. You exhale and focus on the frequency.

Alphas. Head of their packs. Crimson eyes. Leaders. Wolves. Chosen protector of Beacon Hills, burned alive on its lands after years of successfully protecting it and the people within it.

Your eyes snap open. They’re white. White like snow or powdered sugar. Like your mother’s favorite blanket on the back of the couch or like the steam from the pot when you whip up some soup when you’re missing your grandma like hell. White like the froth from crashing waves, like the blur between the mother, the spirit, and the crone when they flash before mortals eyes. White like the void between life and death.

The blank image before you, as you see with different eyes, flashes into one of a black haired woman. Talia Hale. She’s standing beside a chair, a chair Peter’s sitting in. Another flash and a screaming woman is there, talking about a baby and Peter and how it’s taking her power goddamnit!

You gasp, eyes blinking back to the present and keel forward, dropping the claws to the floor in the process. You barely make out the tiny clinks of them hitting the vinyl, hands resting on bent knees as harsh breaths rush from your chest.

Peter’s suddenly there, the claws are no longer on the ground and the jar’s nowhere to be seen. He grabs your forearms and then hefts you upright, shaking you.

“What? What was it? What’d you see?”

You groan and try to shake him off but he doesn’t budge. His grip only gets tighter.

“Fuck you,” you gasp. “You’ve got a kid - a Coyote wer - somewhere here in Beacon.”

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!! I’ll catch any typos later.

In retrospect it really is wild how little black people were in Teen Wolf. Like, off the top of my head there was only four, I think.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it! this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.

[solomons-finest-rum]

Hello to one of my favourite Alfie fic writers! Since you're taking requests, I'd like to make one as well.

I don't know how it works but how about a scenario/imagine where Tommy gets in some kind of trouble (as always) and Alfie suggests that his lovely gangster wife could help and goes to introduce them but as it turns out it's none other than the Shelby's sister/cousin/relative/friend/or maybe even an ex? (Your call one this one) who they thought was dead or something?

Idk if it's even worth your time and effort but I just wanted to make a request ;) No pressure, of course!

Love you and your writing a lot!

“As The Crow Flies” (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader) — PART 1

SUMMARY — By all accounts Anna Gray died in Australia and had no business standing in Alfie’s living room, nor calling the man “darling” for that matter. But there you were, identical to the picture they took when they shipped you off to the colonies.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Thank you to @zablife for being the most gracious beta!💗💗💗💗💗 and thank you Anon for this request, because actually it inspired a full-blown multi-chapter idea! So this is set around... Season 5 I suppose? But I'm going to ignore everything in it and Season 6 too. Let's pretend none of it happened and just focus on the fun part! That is driving Tommy insane and making Alfie say outrageous lines.

WORD COUNT — 2,286

Masterlist

In retrospect, Tommy Shelby felt he should have known better. He should have fucking known that the moment, the moment, he came to Margate to sort the bloody situation out, exactly two things would happen.

One, he would have to sit and listen with a straight face to Alfie’s inspired monologue, the subject of which had swerved from elephants to bank robbery in about two and a half minutes, and then managed to touch upon just about everything else under the sun.

Tommy remained quite sure that the sense of Alfie’s rambling had been long lost to history and the point of it all was just to talk him to death, really. Put him out of his misery with nonsense alone.

“Now then, Tommy, as I said, right, I ain’t the vindictive type, I really ain’t, so I am gonna help ya out just this once, right, outta the goodness of my own heart.”

Tommy managed not to roll his eyes. Barely.

“‘Cause I am a changed man these days, Tommy, an’ it can be that the old man that I am, I’m goin’ soft on ya, right, an’ so tradition dictates, mate, to ask for more than ten thousand for my troubles.”

Tommy raised a brow.

“But as things currently stand with the medical bills, on the account of bein’ shot in the face by some cunt, right… Fifteen would sound proper fair, mate.”

Thank fuck for small mercies, Tommy thought, then lit another cigarette and promptly got up to leave. Alfie apparently managed to settle both sides of the conversation, negotiations included, and their American problem could very well sort itself out all on his own—thus proving to Tommy once more that the only thing he could really count on in this world had always been lunatics.

“Right, the fuck you’re doin’ now, sit down!”

Tommy frowned and remained standing, cigarette in the corner of his mouth and sheer outrage emanating from his entire person. The question of “what in fuck’s name do you want now, you crazy bastard?” overtook his face.

“Right, I need to make a bloody phone call,” Alfie said then, which explained exactly nothing.

Yes, that was the second thing Tommy had been so sure would happen. Alfie would first go on a tangent, then formulate a plan that involved three separate layers of deception, a bribe, and a crate of dynamite (probably).

Then Tommy would get caught in the middle as bloody always and Polly would have his head for going along with Alfie’s plan in the first place.

What he didn’t expect was for Alfie to change his tone of voice completely as soon as the person picked up on the other end:

“Yeah, darlin’, it’s me. Come to the house, alright? Right, ‘cause I need ya here for somethin’. No, not like the— Bloody hell, woman, just don’t fuckin’ argue with me for once, alright?”

Sometimes a rare occasion would present itself for Tommy Shelby to become fucking speechless. Truth be told, he remained rather surprised that two such occasions had also involved Alfie Solomons, undoubtedly purely for the Devil’s bloody amusement.

“Who was that then, Alfie?”

“None of ya fuckin’ business.”

Tommy had a sneaky feeling there wasn’t a clever enough question in existence that could have pushed Alfie to say anything more. He looked smug as hell for having pulled that stunt off so Tommy was willing to see it through.

For old time’s sake.

The sun was setting and they had another drink, then Tommy let Alfie go on another tangent about… Tea import. Perhaps. Who knew, he wasn’t really listening.

On drink three Tommy was alerted by a car pulling up to the house, followed by a door slam and a rhythmic clacking of high heels on the porch. Tommy looked to Alfie, but the man remained infuriatingly calm.

Just as Tommy was about to reach for his gun, the door to Alfie’s study opened unceremoniously and a scent of expensive perfume wafted across the room. Tommy turned around and tried his best to keep up the indifferent facade, but failed miserably. Nothing could have prepared him for you walking through that door, with a giant bodyguard no less, following you like a second shadow.

“Alright there, Billy?” Alfie greeted the bodyguard casually and the man grunted in response. “Right then, might ya wait in the car for us, mate? This whole bloody business will take a minute.”

Tommy then watched as Alfie approached you and planted an affectionate kiss to your cheek, at which point Tommy stood up abruptly.

For a moment he just stood there and stared; a state he didn’t find himself in too often these days. 

“Darling, are we having guests?” you asked Alfie in a tone so familiar to Tommy; so like your mother. Pleasant, on the verge of sarcastic. 

By God, either that Camden bastard was a magician or you had a twin sister that Polly never mentioned. Because it wasn’t possible… It couldn’t be you. Not according to the file he stole from the parish. By all accounts Anna Gray died in Australia and had no business standing in Alfie’s living room, nor calling the man “darling” for that matter. But there you were, identical to the picture they took when they shipped you off to the colonies. 

“Right then, Tommy, might I present my lovely wife,” Alfie said. “Sweetie, this here is Tommy Shelby, right, all the way from the ungodly place they call Birmingham—”

“Tommy Shelby?” you interrupted and looked at Tommy with a smile so like Polly’s that Tommy nearly lost his composure again. “My, my… And there you went and promised you were done with the life, Alfie.”

“Right, an’ how could that—”

“Anna,” Tommy interrupted what he was sure was a budding monologue from Alfie. 

“Yes?” you asked. “You know my name?”

“I… Know your mother.”

“Know?” There it was again. That curious smirk of yours that could really mean anything. Tommy found it harder and harder to keep up the charade.

“But that’s not possible, Mr. Shelby.”

“What’s not possible?”

Your tone remained polite, but your dark eyes said it all. The expression of quiet resolve Tommy thought only one person capable of delivering with such resentment.

“I’m an orphan, Mr. Shelby.”

Tommy said nothing to that, because what in hell could he even say? All of a sudden the American issue faded into nothingness, replaced solely by the phantom standing before him.

“So you did not lie, I see,” you turned to your husband with a quizzical expression, seeing as Tommy went quiet again. “He really is as strange as the papers make him. No matter, though, Mr. Shelby, I hope you like chicken? My husband insists I’m a terrible cook, but you must stay for dinner.”

Tommy nodded mechanically and put out his cigarette just to busy his hands with something. When he looked at Alfie, though, Tommy noticed how the man’s mouth twitched, clearly indicating the scheme was playing exactly how he wanted it to. Mad bastard, Tommy thought. There was no saying if he was being played or tricked or helped. Probably all at once, but solely for Alfie’s benefit of course.

“Right, curious as I am, luv, what delectable fuckin’ option you maimed and butchered for dinner, Tommy isn’t stayin’—” Alfie then stopped himself when two sets of identical Shelby scowls got directed his way.

Tommy did stay for dinner and made sure to clean his plate, too. He didn’t mind the food at all; it reminded him of Polly’s simple cooking back in the day when she would take care of Tommy and his siblings in Small Heath.

The more he listened to you talk and bicker with Alfie, the more of your mother he saw in you and the angrier he got at seeing you here of all places, as Alfie’s wife, unable to speak to you in plain terms. Tommy wasn’t exactly sure which made him angrier, though—the fact that you were Alfie’s wife or the fact that the sly bastard had kept you from your true family for who knows how many years. How did he even find you?

All the questions he had were still swirling around in Tommy’s head and he wasn’t particularly paying attention to anything else, besides staring daggers at Alfie. He was hoping there would be a moment to talk to you alone, but of course your husband would never allow it. He watched Tommy like a hawk the entire evening, sometimes with just a hint of a smile to suggest he was still three steps ahead of everyone else.

“See you never got accustomed to that fancy cookin’ they’re offerin’ ya at the mansion these days, Tommy,” Alfie said, undoubtedly truly enjoying the charade. “Tommy’s an MP, darlin’, right about two steps from gettin’ a knighthood I reckon. Yeah, a real prince he is.”

The way Alfie said the word was so clearly a jab at Tommy’s ancestry that he didn’t even flinch. What he was curious about was your reaction, but you remained perfectly pleasant: 

“Don’t tease, love, we haven’t had guests in ages and I’m not letting you drive this one away.”

When the maid took away the plates, you lit a cigarette in a swift overdone gesture and Tommy was once more taken aback with your resemblance to Polly. 

“Well, I’ll leave ya both to it,” you announced as you got up. “It was a pleasure, Mr. Shelby.” You extended your hand and Tommy shook it. “I know you tried your best with the chicken and I appreciate it,” you paused and tilted your head to the side as if sizing Tommy up.

“I rarely trust your husband’s judgement,” he replied.

The way you smiled reminded Tommy of a cat that got into the pantry. He decided not to think about it too much.

“I see. Goodnight then, Mr. Shelby.”

As soon as Tommy heard you got upstairs, he turned to Alfie who, unsurprisingly, already had a gun pointed at him. It was a casual way of it that was the most infuriating—Alfie’s hand was more so resting on the table and the gun just happened to be there, pointing at Tommy. 

“Now then, Tommy, let’s be reasonable about this, mate.”

Tommy clenched his jaw and remained silent, but his murderous glare said it all.

“There are four people at the house, right, includin’ you, me, my wife, then the maid… Then there’s Billy outside, right, who’s gonna be rightly worried once he doesn’t get my dismissal for the night. So I want ya to be real cold an’ calculated about it, Tommy, just like I know ya can be, ‘cause if ya decide to off me for no reason now…”

“No reason.”

“Right.”

“You’re old enough to be her father.”

“Yeah an’ fortunately I’m not, ‘cause that’d be right fuckin’ awkward at the temple, mate.”

“Temple?”

“What’d ya think, Tommy, that I smacked her over the head and dragged her into my cave?”

“Somethin’ like that.”

“Right, we’ll have to show ya the pictures then, she looked stunnin’.” Alfie leaned back in his chair. “Tell ya what, mate, why don’t ya come by for tea one day?”

“Tea.”

“Yeah. We have it, Tommy, we’re not animals.”

Tommy said nothing to that. He was still reviewing his options, but as he wasn’t a fan of spontaneous action, the patient approach seemed appropriate. The offer, though, just like everything else about the situation, was fucking infuriating.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“Fuck you, Alfie.”

That finally made Alfie smile and for some reason he lowered the gun.

“Right, so seein’ as we’re family, Tommy, and what a happy coincidence this is, I must say, I feel like we should talk fuckin’ proper. None of that shit.” Alfie then gestured between them as if he hadn’t been responsible for “that shit” in the first place.

“We’ve been talking, Alfie,” Tommy deadpanned.

“Yeah, but then there’s still somethin’ ya haven’t told me about your American troubles, isn’t there, mate, so I’m expectin’ you’ll be more honest with me in the future. Now that I’ve brought the right arguments to the table…”

The hint of a threat in that statement almost made Tommy wish he still had his razor cap around.

“She’s Polly’s only daughter, Alfie.”

“Right, I’m aware of that.”

Tommy nodded, feigning understanding between them. As always, handling Alfie very much resembled handling a live grenade without a pin.

“This can’t be the way to end things.”

“Who’s endin’ things, Tommy?”

“I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, an’ I’m going to let this one slide, Tommy, ‘cause you just got a lot to process, mate, so I’m prepared to be understandin’.”

Tommy shook his head and reached into his jacket pocket, at which Alfie uncocked the gun. Tommy slowly pulled out his cigarette box, but Alfie never even flinched. It was gruesomely reassuring to still have been right, even in the position that Tommy currently found himself in. 

Alfie Solomons would always remain Alfie Solomons, even with the whole song and a dance about getting old and senile. He was still the same mad bastard Tommy came to know all those years ago, and as things stood, Tommy found himself wondering if this time he shouldn’t try poison instead of a bullet.

“Tommy,” Alfie sighed, “with three good eyes workin’ between us, mate, I really would greatly mind if I somehow acquired a fuckin’ tumour in my lungs, too.”

Tommy said nothing and he knew Alfie hated it.

“Which means put that shit out, mate, and listen to what I’m about to say, ‘cause I got a feeling you’ll really wanna hear it.”

[tieronecrush]

hot & heavy

chapter thirteen: hot blood & heavy memories

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

series rating: E (18+ MDNI)

series summary:

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 9.4k

warnings: NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, inexperienced reader, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is 7 y/o), nanny au, pet names (sweetheart, darling, sweet girl, mariposa, etc.), feeling familial and self-pressure, established relationship, spanish cause joel is latino, oral (m & f receiving), unprotected p in v, soft joel, possessive joel, struggling with self, discussion of parenting, angst, ARGUING!!!! but petty arguing, and probably more!

a/n: I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. life just hit me with a bunch of shit and writing fell to the wayside but here this is, the penultimate chapter! final one should be coming next week <3 thank you all for the love on this fic! and thank you bestie @northernbluess for beta reading <3 love ya!

Joel turned over this morning, his arm reaching out across the bed only to be met with the feeling of cool sheets against his skin. Sunlight blinded his eyes as he slowly opened them, adjusting to the light flooding in from the pulled curtains. A groan rumbled his sleep-coated voice awake, his ears waiting to hear you from the bathroom, gloating about how you managed to wake up before him.

Nothing ever came. He looked over his shoulder, the door to the bathroom wide open and the bedroom door left opened a crack. Glanced around with no sign of you, a wave of loneliness washed over him.

For a split second, his brain justified it all as a dream. Told himself that when he wakes up — actually wakes up — you’d be sleeping there next to him, curled up under his arms, waking with that smile of yours that blinds him more than the morning light. He’d run his hands along your spine as you elongate in a stretch, your fingers immediately finding his messy curls to push them back into place. It’s what happens every morning that he has with you. This one should have been no different.

But it was, there’s no you to wake up to, already gone from the bed and possibly the entire house, retreated to your space to give you and him some. Floods of memories from late last night came back to the forefront, him standing in the middle of the living room, your face wounded and confused. The thought of hurting you made his skin crawl, but the replay of the words spewed back and forth has ice formed in his chest again, shutting down the part of him who would do anything to make it better. He hates that about him, the part of him that finds himself right in every situation, the part of him that tells his mind that he’s protecting you, your life you’ve built together — he knows it’s for himself.

He knows, in his gut, that he’s scared.

Maybe he should have heard you out more, but fear overcame him — fear of the unknown, fear of loss, fear of him fucking up the best thing that has happened for him since Sarah was born. 

But he knows he won’t admit that, won’t let doubt back into your relationship. There’s been enough of that, and he wants everything to stay as it was.

He’s not a man of change.

When he descended the stairs, there was a sharp ache in his ribs, pausing on his way down to grab at his side. Body anxious to find out if you had left entirely, the pain a reminder of his craving for you, a physical reaction to being apart.

The sound of your voice traveling from the kitchen to his ears was a relaxing balm, the ache dissipated the more he heard you speak to Sarah, laughing and excitedly discussing the plan for the aquarium.

Eagerness pricked his brain at that; the fact that you were still coming excited him. Maybe things would simply go back to normal today, that everything would be forgotten and he would be able to swallow the fear sitting in his throat.

God, was he wrong.

You woke that morning, Joel’s broad shoulders melted into the mattress and the expanse of his t-shirt-covered back met your eyes. Restless the whole night, never did you wake up to find him facing you, an arm slung over your side, or any movement to be closer. 

Gnawing at you was the thought of simply brushing things under the rug, mending what was broken last night during the argument, and fixing things to make it all better.

If you make things copacetic, then maybe he would feel ready to tell your family faster?

The louder part of you — the one burning inside your gut and boiling your blood when you remember how he dismissed you the night before — told you to keep your mouth shut. That everything will only reach a breaking point if you continue on the path that you two are on. 

Why does he get to decide the timeline of your relationship without any sort of discussion? You deserve the same respect and promise that you give to Joel.

God, what if he really isn’t ready for a future with you? What is holding him back?

You spent an hour laying in bed, fighting yourself back and forth between cleaning everything up between the two of you, agreeing to whatever Joel wanted to simply make it normal so you could enjoy the day, and standing staunch in your anger toward him and keeping your ground, you know that your feelings are valid.

To distract yourself, you slipped out of bed, leaving Joel behind, and wandered downstairs to make some coffee for yourself and breakfast for Sarah. Not long after you got some pancakes started, the sound of tiny, lightweight steps descended the stairs. A mop of curls rounded the corner, Sarah with a bright smile on her face when you greeted each other good morning.

After you served up some pancakes for her, the heavy steps you recognize so well tumbled down the stairs, sending a wave of annoyance to your peaceful morning. You glanced up at Joel when he entered the kitchen, flicking your eyes to Sarah distracted by the book in her hands and the plate in front of her.

Joel approaches you to your side, standing slightly behind to reach over to the cabinet with the mugs in it. As he leaned over, his head turned and moved toward your cheek, lips pursed. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him and swerved out of the way, turning around to make your way over to the table to sit with Sarah.

God, does he think after last night he can waltz in here and try to kiss you good morning without any sort of apology first?

He’s got his head up his ass, clearly.

Coffee poured, Joel shuffled over to the table, sitting across from you with a long sigh. The rest of breakfast is filled with avoiding his attempts at touches, a hand across the surface, legs brushing underneath. Sarah told you both about what happened in her book and after, excitedly made a plan for the aquarium and what animals were must-sees.

Questions from Joel were answered with one word, his own attitude seeping into his voice with clipped answers given back to you. Sarah was none the wiser, or at least didn’t mention it, and you left shortly after your coffee was finished to change and shower at your own place.

The car ride to the aquarium was only filled with conversation that involved the younger Miller, your hands clasped together in your lap, and Joel’s own gripping the steering wheel. Tension in the cab of his truck was palpable between the two of you, thick with defiance for the other person.

If either of you were known as one thing, it was stubborn.

And stubbornness is what has brought the two of you to stand in front of an expansive wall of glass, a rainbow of tropical fish gliding through the deep blue water and coursing around growths of coral and seaweed, a few feet apart with Sarah pressing her hands against the glass and pointing out all of the fish she knows from Finding Nemo.

You hike the strap of your bag up onto your shoulder, crossing your arms in front of your chest. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as Joel shifts his weight back and forth on his feet, his own arms woven together against his chest. Even with quick glances, you can tell his jaw is clenched, his brow furrowed, shoulders taut and tense. With the last look toward him, you catch his stare, emotion unreadable.

His arms move to uncross, his feet shifting his weight forward in a step that seems like it’s coming toward you. In a flashing second, you’re moving away from his step, avoidance at the front of your mind while the glisten of water shines in your field of vision, tunneled around Sarah. You stand behind her, holding onto her shoulder while you listen intently to her spewing off facts about some of the fish.

With a look over your shoulder, Joel is across the room, reading about the coral reef habitat. Pulling your attention again, Sarah moves from under your touch, taking your hand and leading you toward her dad and onto the next. While the three of you are walking together, Sarah links you together holding both of your hands and tugging you toward one of her must-sees, the Beluga whales.

There’s a crowd in front of the smaller viewpoint into the tank, leaving you to stand and wait on the outskirts of the group. Joel’s shoulders slump, a huff of annoyance escaping his mouth as he rolls his head back with a quiet groan. The noises of frustration catch Sarah’s attention away from her attempts to sneak a peek at the adorably social animals.

“What’s wrong, Daddy?” she inquires innocently.

The dramatics make you roll your eyes slightly, reaching a hand out to brush Sarah’s curls back as you say, “Don’t worry about it, Sare Bear, Daddy’s in a grumpy mood today.”

The words taste bitter in your mouth, slicing malice in your voice as you turn to aim the comment toward Joel instead of Sarah. Locking your stare with his deep brown eyes, squinting in challenge to you. His head tilts to the side slightly, and you hold his glare with your own, waiting for his own flay of you.

Joel rolls his eyes, shaking his head slowly before he turns to Sarah, plastering a tight, comforting smile on his face.

“Why are you grumpy, Daddy? You get to see all the cool fish today and sharks and dolphins. It’s fun!” Sarah grins, satisfied with her pitch for him to start having fun.

“I’m alright, mija, and I’m excited to learn about all the animals from you,” Joel explains before he turns his head toward you, “I think I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed — right, Mari?” 

Fucking smart ass.

You bite your tongue, ignoring the pointed comment, and keep your eyes trained ahead, pointing to an opening where Sarah can sneak in to see the belugas. It leaves you and Joel standing alone again, an opportunity arising for a moment of confrontation for him.

“Is it gonna be like this all day?” he questions, irritation evident in his tone and his body language — hands on his hips, one leg popped out to the side, and a scowl on his face.

“I don’t know, Joel. Why don’t you ask yourself that question? ‘Cause you have your own panties in a twist if I’m hearing you correctly.” You turn away from him, focusing ahead again on the window into the tank, rolling your shoulders back and standing straight.

Mumbling under his breath, Joel relaxes his stance and watches Sarah, “Christ, you’re gettin’ on my nerves.”

That’s rich coming from him. He’s the one with such an attitude, he’s the one who was acting like a child last night, shutting down the conversation so he didn’t have to hear your side and then stomping off when you pressed on.

And now he’s saying that you’re getting on his nerves? For not letting everything be brushed under the rug?

Doubt worms its way into your mind while the three of you continue to explore the aquarium. Space stays physically between you and Joel, the only fleeting touches when you get pushed together in crowds walking around or when Sarah makes the two of you get together for a picture on your camera in front of one of the tanks. No affection is exchanged, only a grudge simmering among you both.

He watches you with Sarah, walking ahead of him with your hand in hers, allowing her to run ahead and leave you behind. The expression on your face turns sour every time he saddles up next to you, alighting the flames of his frustration yet again.

“Can you stop acting like you’re in such a foul mood for fucks sake? We’re at the aquarium, should be enjoyable,” he grumbles to you, clenching his jaw and puffing his chest out.

“I am having a good time, Joel. Maybe you’re projecting your pissy mood onto me.”

Of course, now you’re denying it. He’s spent virtually the last three years with you, and you don’t think that he knows how to read you?

You’re being so unreasonable. Not even giving him a chance to make it up to you — not even letting him greet you this morning and try to make it better.

“My pissy mood? You’re the one who’s avoiding me and can’t even keep the disgust off your face when I stand next to you. And to add to it—”

“Enough.”

The conversation screeches to a halt there when you interrupt him, Sarah walking up with a bright smile on her face. The two of you lead off in another direction, toward the dolphin show with the trainers that you booked in extra for Sarah to see. At the time, it seemed like a great idea, but now, he’s praying that somehow it doesn’t happen so he can get to the end of this day faster.

Shuffling along the entrance path along with the other attendees, Sarah stands in front of you while Joel stands behind. His eyes bore holes in the back of your head, replaying the back and forth from the night before, the sinking feeling of waking up alone.

Are you ever going to give him a chance to talk to you about everything, or are you going to stew until you’re content?

Joel finds a free spot on the stepped seating, seeing over all the heads scrambling to find a spot. He leads the three of you up, centered for an ideal view. The arrangement ends up with Joel in the middle when he lets Sarah into the aisle first, broad-shoulder bumping into you when you sit next to him. You place your bag in your lap, toying with the clasps to keep your hands busy.

In a moment like this, you would normally lean into his side, your warmth blanketing him and you would be giggling with Sarah about something while your hand rests on his thigh or intertwined with his.

There’s a chill in the space you have attempted to create, his side feeling bare with the breeze of AC. He sits, focusing his hardened stare on the pool with trainers showing off the traits and quirks of the animals.

In his right ear, he hears your voice under your breath, “Would it kill you to throw on a smile about the fucking dolphins?”

So that answers his question. You’re going to stew.

Joel works his jaw side to side, a sarcastic smirk donning his face as he directs his words toward you at his side, “I am smiling.”

A laugh cuts through clapping from everyone surrounding you, your hand patting his denim-clad thigh in fake consolation.

“If that’s smiling, you’ve got a bad case of resting bitch face.”

The place on his leg where you touch burns for your hand to press against it again, and he clenched his fist in an attempt to will away the desire.

It’s easier with the anger simmering in his chest, more so at himself rather than you. Yes, you’re getting on his nerves, so fucking much today, but he also wishes he could go back to last night and just hear you out. Even if he didn’t really want to hear about it, it would be better than what he’s ended up in now.

He keeps his mouth shut for the rest of the show, putting a smile on his face when Sarah looks at him, pointing out and repeating everything that happened. It makes you laugh, sharing a grin with Sarah across from you, and the sound quells his annoyance for a moment.

The feeling comes right back in a different way when the show finishes, with everyone funneling down the stairs to get out, the three of you get caught in a jam. Joel huffs a breath out at the lack of spatial awareness from those surrounding him, annoyance rushing to the forefront of his mind yet again. You’re in front of him, gripping Sarah’s shoulders to keep her tethered, and the pressing of everyone all together brings you a mere inches away, Joel’s hand hovering over your waist out of habit.

As the crowd moves again, you direct Sarah to walk forward when a grown man pushes through some of the bodies, colliding with your side and causing you to stumble and nearly topple over Sarah. His hands immediately catch you by your waist, righting you to stand up straight and leave you with Sarah as he follows a few steps in the open wake of the asshole. The same feeling of anger sears in his chest, hurling it toward anyone who deserves it, even wanting to hurl it at himself, for even just a few minutes.

“Hey! Watch it, man! You just ran into my girlfriend and my daughter. Don’t need to be a jerk, everyone is trying to get out at the same place,” his voice carries over everyone, his hand landing on the guy’s shoulder and clamping down, “I think you and me are gonna wait here nicely. Until everyone gets out in front of us, it’s only polite, right?”

His smile is loaded with intimidation, keeping things light enough to keep attention away after the initial confrontation. You and Sarah walk hand in hand, and he hears a whisper from you as you pass, “Thanks.”

Fingers brushing against your back again when you walk away, he waits until the last person is out of the pathway before letting the man go, choice words exchanged with grumbles before Joel goes to find the two of you, standing in front of the nearby penguin exhibit. There’s a staff member at the edge of the habitat, lecturing about the little suit-and-tie animals when he approaches, standing near to you without reaching out again.

You shift anxiously next to him, feeling his stare at the side of your face. Ice-cold gaze stays trained on the aquarium staff talking to the small group gathered, Sarah has made her way to the front to listen intently and peer over the glass wall at the fuzzy younglings waddling around.

“And you know what is such a fun fact about penguins?” the lecturer asks rhetorically, “Penguins have long been upheld as an example of romance in the animal kingdom. When they pair off to breed, those pair bonds can last a lifetime. Just like so many amazing human relationships!”

Ha, of course, this is the spiel that you get stuck listening to with Joel standing right next to you. Out of all the times when you could have visited the aquarium, it happens when the two of you are fighting about exactly that — if it’s going to be for life.

Without a chance to bite your tongue, under your breath, loud enough for Joel to hear, you mutter, “Do you think they tell their parents right away?”

In your periphery, Joel’s head snaps to look directly at you, shoulders tensing, jaw clenching, and head shaking as he opens and closes his mouth a few times, gaping like a fish out of water. Before he can muster any response, the short lecture concludes, the staff member retreating through an ‘Employees Only’ door. Sarah bounds up to you both, grabbing your hands and dragging you to the front to look into the lives of the penguins.

“Look, come look!” Sarah leans against the glass panel, pointing over the top of it. Joel follows her finger to a small cluster of penguins, two adults and one little one, fluffy and grey. Turning over her shoulders to look at both of you one at a time, she giggles quietly and looks back at the animals, sharing her observation, “They’re just like us! Daddy, and then that one’s Posey and the little one is me!”

You’re better at reacting at the moment than he is, nodding along with a genuine smile for Sarah, always genuine when you’re with her, and asking her questions pertaining to all that she knows about penguins to shift the subject.

But Joel is stuck there, staring at the trio on the ice. They huddle together before one of the adult ones, the shorter one, the one that’s supposed to be you, waddles away to the edge and dives in. The little one eagerly trails after her, following suit while the larger adult, the one that is meant to be him — the father — waits for the pair to be together safely before he jumps in to join them.

A unit of three.

That’s what he’s got. What he wants. What he had?

Sarah’s observation replays in his mind, the reminder to him that it’s not only about him in all of this. 

The two of you may be the ones fighting, maybe the ones attempting to stick it out over the other to avoid talking about everything and win, but it’s Sarah who has to watch it all happen. She’s already seen this when he was with Tiff, when she was a baby, but if it’s the same behavior of arguing and ignoring until someone caves, she’s definitely going to remember it now.

And she loves you so much. He couldn’t take being the reason she experiences more loss in her life. He saw what you leaving at the end of each summer did to her, and now, when you’ve been woven into their lives completely, how would she understand that ending?

He has to start thinking about her again, to put her needs first. And she needs someone like you in her life, even if this all ends with you not wanting to be in his.

Those thoughts consumed his mind for the rest of the day, continuing to give you your space, but at this point, it was because he was lingering back in slow steps while he thought back on this last summer with you, how it was the happiest he’s been, well, ever, and that it’s been the happiest he’s seen Sarah in a long time.

And no matter how you slice it, it all comes back to you.

Words sit in his throat when his truck pulls into his driveway in the evening. He climbs out to open Sarah’s door for her and tells her to run ahead inside. Rounding the car to where you’re standing at the passenger door, he sticks his hands in his front pockets, scuffing his boot across the concrete surface as he attempts to find what he needs to say.

Before he can speak, you do, exhaustion heavy in your tone, “I’m going to stay at home tonight. I think…Maybe we just need tonight to get some space after all that happened today.”

“Oh, um, yeah. Understood.” He nods curtly and turns away to walk to the front door, looking back and meeting your eyes as you do the same from his lawn.

“Um, would you say goodnight to Sarah for me, please?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell her, Mari ba—Night.” Joel watches as you turn around again, not looking back a second time while you traipse across to your lawn, wandering around the side to go to your own door. You disappear as you round the corner of your house, and at the last sliver of you waning from view, a dull pain aches in his chest.

Pressing a palm against his shirt, he drags himself inside and closes the front door behind him, turning to the sound when he hears Sarah’s voice before he sees her curls bouncing as she peers around from the staircase.

“Where’s Posey?”

“Oh, she’s gonna sleep at home tonight, Bug.”

Tossing his keys on the table, he turns back to his daughter and sees defeat wash over her face.

“Did Posey not have fun at the aquarium today?” Her voice is small when she asks, and the timidness hits the ache in Joel’s chest even harder.

He stammers out an answer, quick to explain away, “No, no, mija, of course, she had fun.”

Reaching a hand out to brush her hair away from her face, he bends down to be eye level with her standing a few steps up from the ground.

“I was worried. Especially cause she doesn’t usually go home right away, like, she stays with you, Daddy, and I thought maybe she wanted to go home cause she didn’t have fun and I feel like it would be ‘cause of me ‘cause I made her go with us cause I wanted her to go.”

Guilt draws acidic bile into his throat, drawing a sigh from his lips that he keeps quiet.

Of course, she isn’t stupid. She’s the smartest kid he knows, and he should have known that she would think something was going on. But her blaming herself is eating him alive, if he could only explain away everything to comfort her.

“Don’t you worry, Bug, Mari had tons of fun. She was jus’ tired after such a big day, y’know? I know she loved coming to the aquarium with you. She really likes spending time with you, mija.”

“I love having Posey around. She’s so cool, and she loves to hear about all my animal facts and all about my books. I love her!” Sarah beams, and Joel returns her smile with a tight grin, nodding as he comes to an agreement with one thing.

“I love her too, Bug.”

Sticky humidity is still thick in the air hours after the sun’s gone down. A spitting of stars litter the deep midnight blue sky. Moonlight and the warm, low glow of the back porch lights ripple across the surface of the pool water, blurring in your eyes as your stare unfocuses. Deep in thought and tunnel-visioned on the water, you don’t hear anything around you.

“What the hell are you staring at?”

The sound makes you jump, eyes focusing again with a few rapid blinks and heart rate pumping when you turn toward the side that the voice came from. Your brother, Chris, stares at you with an eyebrow raised and mouth tilted in confusion. A shake of your head grounds you fully, feeling the woven plastic material of the lounge chair against the skin of your legs exposed from your shorts. Seconds tick on with empty air hanging between the two of you, finally breaking through the noise in your head to answer him.

“Nothing, nothing. I was just staring.” You shrug and bend your knees to tuck your legs against your chest, swatting away a mosquito swarming around you.

“Okay…If you were starin’ at nothing, then you must’ve been thinkin’ about something. Or have you totally gone brain-dead?” Chris smirks as you laugh dryly at his poke, turning to the side when he takes a seat on the chair next to you.

Sometimes you hate how well he can read you. Why can’t he be the aloof and uncaring brother you always see on TV and in movies?

“Not brain-dead. Wish I could turn it off for a bit.”

“Well, can’t help you do that. But if it helps to unload any of the shit going on in there—” he gestures in circles around his head with one hand, “I’m happy to listen, sis.”

Something in the invitation, the open door that Chris has given you, parts the floodgates. Before you can second-guess it or overthink it, you’re spilling it all to your brother sitting across from you; the words continue, and it brings about that swirling mix of excitement and anxiety that stirs to life in your gut.

What is Joel going to say when he finds out you said something to Chris? What if this is the straw that breaks the camel’s back?

But it feels nice to be able to share — even the ugly stuff from the last two and a half summers, basically the last two and a half years. Part of you, of your life, has been kept secret from those closest to you and now you have finally made the decision, taken it all into your hands, and are saying something. Sharing how much you care, how much you love him. 

A deep breath fills your lungs when nothing has been left unsaid, tears that went unnoticed through your recollection dry in ribbons against your cheeks. Chris sits there silently, his leg bouncing with nerves and eyes staring off as he drinks the information in. Another beat of cicadas chirping blankets the space in sound before he clears his throat and focuses his stare back onto you.

“I, uh, well, I think I knew, or I should say I had a feeling. I mean, not from the very beginning, but that first summer, you were like really sad going back to school and I have never seen you like that. And the only change was Joel being around,” Chris explains, fiddling with his fingers and silence overcomes the small bubble that the two of you created.

His words echo in your ears, replaying over and over until you can’t help but bark out a laugh, covering your mouth to muffle the uncontrollable sound. Tears from laughter wash away the evidence of sadness from minutes before, taking a moment to calm your breaths and wipe away the salty drops.

Shaking your head, a wide and incredulous smile on your face, you stare back at the light on the water and murmur, “God, I wish you could walk over to Joel’s and tell him that. Jus’ to give him a bit of a reality check. The longer we go on, the less slick we are going to become. And everyone, especially Mom and Dad, are gonna realize. I mean, you’re not even that observant and you had a feeling before we even were really together.”

Chris laughs quietly and shrugs nonchalantly, reaching an arm out to nudge you in your seat, “Y’know I would if you really wanted me to.”

You wave the offer off, looking over your shoulder to Joel’s house, the light from his bedroom peeking through the curtains. “Nah, we have to talk it out. I need to tell him all of what’s going on in here.”

Making the same gesture as he did, hand circling your head, Chris stands up and nods curtly. One of his hands finds the top of your head, patting it in the smallest of affections, “My other offer is to kick Joel’s ass if you want me to.”

“Oh, yeah? Think you could take him?”

“I know I could. ‘Specially if he’s being a jackass to my sister.”

Another shake of your head, and the first genuine and gentle smile of the last few days, close the conversation, eyes meeting Chris’s as your mouth ticks up in a soft smile, “Thanks, little brother. Love ya.”

“Any time, older sister…” he moves toward the stairs up to the deck and the sliding door to the main house, turning around halfway to add, “For what it’s worth if y’all can figure this out, I think he’d be lucky to have you. He’d be stupid to not make it work, but I think Joel’s a pretty smart man.”

“I’d like to think so, too.”

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, mija? Qué paso?” Joel glances in the rearview mirror as he comes to a stoplight. He left the worksite early to pick up Sarah from camp, ready to head home and find something else to occupy his mind until he ends up in bed alone and thinking about you.

Sarah meets his eyes in the reflection from her place in the backseat, grinning and batting her eyelashes, “Can Posey come over tonight? I want to show her the new pattern I learned for friendship bracelets. I think she would be so good at it, and maybe we could make some for each other. Do you think you can ask her to come hang out?”

Joel takes a long inhale before exhaling in a sigh, easing up the brake when the light switches to green. He thinks for a beat, the thought of you not even bothering to answer the message he would send to ask crossing his mind quickly before he dismisses it.

You wouldn’t do that. Not if it’s about Sarah.

You would come, and you would listen all about her day at camp, and you would make bracelets with her and watch whatever new TV show she’s obsessed with, and—

You would just be there. You’ve always been there.

Agreeing to ask, Sarah continues her discussion of what Katie did at camp while they were playing kickball for the rest of the drive home. Once she gets settled and occupied in her bedroom, Joel paces the kitchen, writing, deleting, and rewriting a handful of texts to you.

None of them seem right. And even if they did, there’s not a high chance he’ll be able to bring himself to actually send it.

That logic is why he is finding himself with his cell phone pressed against his ear, dial tones with your number on the screen reverberating against his eardrum.

Fuck, what if you don’t answer and he has to leave a message? He has no idea what to say.

What if you do answer?

His anxious spiraling screeches to a halt when the ringing stops and a shuffle comes over the line before he hears your voice.

“Hello?”

He takes a second too long before he scrambles to return your greeting, his legs carrying him back and forth in front of the kitchen cabinets. “Um, hey, hi, Mariposa.”

“Hi, Joel.”

Your voice curling around his name relaxes his shoulders, a breath of fresh air to hear that again, even if the last time was only just over a day ago.

“Did you…Hold on, sorry—” distantly, he hears you speaking to your nanny kid, catching himself smiling when he hears you being so nurturing.

Once you’re back on the phone, you ask, trailing off as you wait for him to answer, “Did you need something or…?”

“Oh, no. Not need, and not me. Sarah asked me today on the way home from camp if I would ask you to come over to hang out,” he cringes at how he sounds, “I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to—”

“I’ll come over. Is after seven alright? I have a late night nannying tonight.”

Joel stops in his path, a warm, oozing feeling spreading inside at the thought of you around again. He keeps his voice as level as possible, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm.

“Seven’s great, Mari. We’ll see you then, I’m sure Sare will be real excited,” he takes a beat before adding, “D’you, would you maybe want to talk after Sarah heads to sleep?”

Your sigh comes through his receiver, deflating his spirit the smallest bit. 

“Yeah, that’s—I think it would be good to talk.”

“Good, good…Um, guess I’ll see you in a few hours then?”

“See you later, Joel.”

The next words hang on the top of his tongue, his brain hesitating for a handful of heart beats before they spill out.

“Love you.”

Dead air crackles in the speaker, and for a moment Joel thinks the call must have dropped.

“Love you too,” you return quietly, a wash of awkwardness coating the interaction before the two of you say your goodbyes again and hang up.

Three friendship bracelets later, and two rerun episodes of Sarah’s latest favorite show, it’s time for Sarah to head to sleep.

“G’head and say goodnight to Mari,” he nods toward you on the couch and Sarah walks over, flopping into your open arms and giggling quietly with you. Wrapping your arms around her in a tight squeeze, you kiss the side of her head and let her go.

“Night, sweet pea. Have a good sleep,” you smile softly at her as she stands up from the couch.

“G’night, Posey. Love you!” Sarah calls back as she runs over to climb upstairs, leaving you on the couch as your eyes find Joel’s in an instant.

You call out your own reply as quick as you can after the initial surprise, “Love you too!”

An involuntary grin spreads across your face, and he matches it, shrugging and opening his mouth as if to say something before he hesitates and follows Sarah up the stairs. Joel walks her up, waiting for her to brush her teeth before she gets into bed. He leans over, brushing back her hair from her face with a gentle smile and kissing her forehead.

“Goodnight, Bug. Dulces sueños (Sweet dreams),” Joel speaks low, reaching up to turn off her bedside lamp.

“Night, Daddy. Is Posey gonna pick me up from camp tomorrow? She hasn’t in a couple of days.”

Joel pauses, swallowing and looking at his daughter curled up in bed. His stomach turns as he has a final thought on everything regarding you. That even if he’s afraid of reality coming and crashing into you both completely, he needs to accept it. That you two can work through it together, but he can’t let you go for his sake and especially Sarah’s sake.

He loves you, so much, and there’s not a future he wants to have without you in it.

He wants you there for all the good days and bad, all the rest of Sarah’s milestones to celebrate with him. Her growing up, getting to high school, her first date, her graduation, her college experience. Everything.

All he wants is to have you around, plain and simple. No matter what comes along with that, he has to be ready for it cause he certainly isn’t ready to lose you.

“I’m not sure yet, mija. I’ll talk to her and tell you in the morning, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.” Sarah nestles further into her bed, curling the blanket under her chin and closing her eyes. Joel shuts out the lamp, walking to her door and looking back at her falling asleep.

“Te quiero, mija.”

“I love you too, Daddy.”

Closing the door quietly, he takes a breath at the top of the stairs, attempting to gather his thoughts. He paces small circles in the hallway, clasping his fingers into a fist and releasing it repeatedly. Tenson builds in his chest as anxiety pumps in his veins, lately it feels as natural as his blood circulating his body. Treads of his even steps leave footprints in the carpet, another deep breath taken before he descends the stairs and walks into the living room again.

Eyes finding you, he combs over your profile, down to your legs curled up underneath you on the sofa, watching whatever sitcom rerun was on. At the sound of his heavy steps, you turn toward him, pressing your lips into a flat line as you shift your position in acknowledgement. Joel’s steps stammer as he searches for a seat — the armchair feels much too far away from you, the pull he feels never dulled throughout your days arguing, and the spot next to you seems too close, not wanting to push the limits of getting you to stay and talk things out. Strangely, he settles on clearing one side of the hefty wooden coffee table, sitting in the empty space to be across from you.

Just close enough, but a comfortable amount of space between.

“Joel, what are you doing?” you ask as you sit up, the slightest hint of a smile on your face. He knows he probably looks ridiculous, all broad shoulders and sturdy legs fitting in the space between the couch and the table.

“Um, I didn’t know where to sit,” he answers honestly, shrugging with a soft chuckle, “The chair seemed too far, and I didn’t think you’d want me right next to you on the couch so…coffee table.”

A genuine giggle slips out of your mouth, your hand reaching up to cover your mouth. A grin lifts one side of his mouth, tension slowly dissolving from his chest, the warmth of the interaction melting the ice between the two of you. A shake of your head and returning your hand to your lap, you take a breath to collect yourself.

“You’re so weird. But I get the logic…” Your nerves show in the way your lacing and unlacing your fingers together, working your bottom lip between your teeth.

“So…” Joel starts, trailing off as he locks his eyes with yours.

“So?” you return, right eyebrow raising in curiosity.

“So, talking.”

“That is what we are doing, yes, Joel. Well, sort of,” you huff out a laugh again, the action lighting up your irises even in the dim, warm lighting.

“Sorry, sorry, I just—I have things I want to say but saying them is proving difficult.” Joel runs his hand over his face, sighing and curling his shoulders into his chest. “First things first, I’m sorry, Mari. I shouldn’t have dismissed you that night, I should have let you say your piece. And then I really shouldn’t have tried to act like nothing happened and then having an attitude with you at the aquarium. If anything, you were completely justified in giving me shit, I deserved it, I deserve all of it and more with the way I ignored your feelings. I’m so sorry, Mariposa.”

Silence falls over the room as he sits up straight, holding his breath as he awaits anything in response from you. Wringing his hands together, he reels in his mind over what you could say, what you could do. 

Will you let him back in or will you just tell him it’s over? Is tonight going to go well, or sort of well, or be the worst night?

Joel is pulled out of his thoughts when your hands stretch across the gap, covering his own and stilling them in their anxious motions. His eyes flick to your face, a knowing look making him slip his hands from each other, turning one over and taking yours in his.

“You can take a deep breath, Joel. I know you’re spiraling about the worst case scenario, but I don’t want that. I promise.” You shoot him a comforting smile and give him a squeeze of his hand. “Thank you, for the apology. I feel like I owe you one too, mostly for the penguin comment…”

Joel laughs when you wince, head shaking back and forth, “That was a good line, darlin’, I won’t accept an apology for that. That was completely justified.”

“Oh my god, shush. Let me finish,” you swat away his response and continue, your hand still in his, “I feel like…What I wanted to tell you that night was that it makes me feel like you don’t want to be a part of my life, when you keep saying you’re not ready to tell my family. I love being in your life, I love Sarah and I love Tommy, as annoying as he is sometimes. And I love you, J. I love you so much, which is why it hurts so much when I have to keep this a secret from the people closest to me. I want them to know you as my Joel, not just neighbor Joel. I feel like all of this is supposed to tell me that maybe you don’t want to like…solidify everything with me. To have the future completely open for us.”

“No, baby, no. I don’t — Fuck, I feel so stupid. I want everything with you, I don’t want a future that doesn’t have you there, at my side or helping me through all the shit that life throws at us. I love you so much, Mari baby. You’re the best thing to come into my life since Sarah was born, and well, didn’t let her go and I’m not lettin’ you go. I just…I get so scared when I think about telling your family. I don’t know what their reactions are gonna be, I want to be exactly who they want for you, but I don’t feel like I can ever be what I think you deserve, so how are they supposed to feel? I guess it’s like we have still a sliver of something that is just ours, and I am terrified of taking that final step and fucking it all up. I can’t disappoint the people who love you, and I’ll be damned if I let you down. But I feel like I’m already fucking it up. And I don’t know what to do.”

“You’re not fucking things up, J. Yeah, you annoyed the shit out of me cause your head was up your ass, but that isn’t reason for me to give up all that we have built together.” Your free hand reaches up to cradle his cheek, searching his eyes before you continue. “They’re going to love you. They already do love you, baby.”

“That’s as their friendly neighbor, not the man who’s been secretly with their daughter for years,” Joel huffs and leans into your touch.

“I’m serious, they are going to love you as my man because you love me and you treat me right. Most times.” A wink brings the slightest smile to his face, turning his head to press a kiss to your palm. “What if…what if we say we tell them by the end of summer? You can take a bit to get used to the idea, and we can figure out how to do it, and then we’ll have nothing else to worry about by the time Sarah starts school again and life gets stressful.”

Nodding, he smiles tenderly and leans in closer, slowly dropping from the coffee table to kneel in front of you. Joel brushes his fingers along your cheekbone, down to your jaw before he holds the side of your neck.

“I can get behind that idea, Mariposa. I don’t want to hold us back any longer.”

“You weren’t holding us back, J. You were just scared. But next time, you know you can talk to me right? I don’t want you to be feeling all that alone.” Looking down at him with doting eyes, you await for him to confirm.

“I know, Mari baby. Not gonna happen again. And you know you can tell me anything? Especially if you’re getting annoyed as shit with me.”

“You don’t want to know how often you do that, baby.” You smirk teasingly, and he can’t help but laugh, running his other palm up and down your thigh. Inches away, he stretches to nudge his nose against yours, tracing down to hover his lips over yours.

“I love you, Mariposa.”

“I love you too, Joel.”

His hand on your neck moves up a few inches to tilt your jaw toward him, connecting your lips in a delicate kiss. A sigh leaves your lips when he pulls away, your own hands reaching up to grip his shoulders and keep him close. Warm breaths meld together as the two of you sit in the thick of the moment, everything so silent he feels like you must be able to hear how hard his heart is beating.

The tension built over the last few days of avoiding touching or kissing or even being near each other snaps when you bow toward Joel, embracing him with more fervor. Your lips ebb and flow, heat growing between the two of you as hands skim over, groping everywhere that you were burning for each other’s touch.

Breathless and wanting, Joel shifts to stand, propping a knee on the couch next to you, all while keeping his lips locked with yours. You take the initiative to lay back, tugging on the sides of his t-shirt to drag him to hover over you. Legs spread for him to settle between, one of his arms propping himself above you, the other palming your breast through your shirt and bra. A whimper escapes from your mouth at the next breath, Joel’s mouth disconnecting from yours to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

He works to pull your shirt over your head, and you pull yourself off the couch to get the material off completely. In another motion, your bra is unclasped and tossed aside, his mouth finding the peaks of your breasts and sucking while his fingers give attention to the opposite.

“Joel..” you gasp when he tugs gently with his teeth, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him up to your lips again. Joel’s shirt comes off next, landing in a pile with your own clothes, feeling his bare skin against yours when he presses against you.

“Missed you so much, Mari baby. Never wanna be away from you again,” he whispers back to you, forehead against yours.

“Me too, J. Can I show you how much I missed you?” you proposition, his eyes lighting up with intrigue as he slowly nods. Your hands come to his shoulders, pushing him off of you to sit back on the couch. Fingers slip in the waistband of his pants, working his button open and zipper down, pulling the material and his boxers off. A relieved, nearly inaudible sigh leaves his lips, cock slapping against his stomach. His doe eyes find your face as you lick your palm and start slowly stroking him, quiet moans held back as his hand reaches up to stroke your cheek. You turn your head to kiss his palm before folding yourself over his lap, taking the tip of him in your mouth.

“Fuck, darlin’, so good to me. Don’t deserve you,” he praises you as you find a rhythm, bobbing your head as you shift your legs next to him. His hand coasts down from your head down your curved spine to your ass, grabbing a handful as he hits the back of your throat. A louder moan kicks from his throat, his opposite hand finding his mouth for him to bite on his fingers to stay quiet.

You push him to the edge only to pull away from him at the last moment, a muffled groan rumbling from his chest. He grabs you when you sit up, kissing you hard as he coaxes you to lay back.

“Love you so fucking much, Mari. So beautiful, so perfect,” he speaks against your skin, trailing kisses down your torso. He peels your shorts off of you, your panties following in their wake. His movements are rushed, but his affections slow and syrupy, oozing warmth inside of you along with his touches.

Spreading your legs, he lets out a deep sigh, licking his lips before he kisses your inner thighs, ghosting and tender against the velvety skin. Tiny whimpers leave your mouth while you watch him inch closer to where you need him, want him, the most.

“Joel, baby, please—” His thumb applying pressuring to your clit and moving in languid circles cuts you off with a moan, the sound cutting through the quiet of the house. He smirks from between your legs, shaking his head as he speaks low and raspy.

“Quiet, sweetheart. Gotta keep those pretty sounds to a whisper for me, okay?” he questions rhetorically, testing you when he drags two fingers between your folds, gathering your wetness and circling your clit again.

Without another response from you, Joel doesn’t waste anothe second before getting his mouth on your, lapping up your arousal and groanig to himself against your skin. Whines ring from your lips, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging before he slips his tongue into your entrance, fucking you slow with the strong muscle.

“Oh my god, J, feels so good. God, missed you so much. Few days too long not being able to touch you,” you punctuate the sentence with a whine, Joel switching it up to suck your clit and slip two fingers into you. The praise gives him a burst of need to satisfy, to prove himself capable of being the only one to make you feel this good. In another moment, he’s got you coming apart on his tongue, lapping up the sweetness of you.

You’re quick to pull him up for a messy kiss, whispers of nothing between the two of you while he thrusts inside your waiting entrance, filling you with a delicious stretch that sends your mind reeling. Deep, hard motions drive into you, one arm holding him above you and his lips locked with yours. Your hands explore over his torso, wrapping your arms around to his back and holding yourself to him. Pulling away, his eyes find yours with his lips part in heavy breaths, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Te amo, Mariposa. Te quiero muchísimo. Nunca más querrás pelear contigo. nunca quiero lastimarte. (I love you, Mariposa. I love you so much. Never going to fight with you again. Never want to hurt you.) Gonna protect you and that golden heart of yours, sweet girl.”

A wanton moan escapes from your parted lips, holding your gaze in his when you feel tears prick your eyes. Not able to figure out if it’s from all the emotion spilling out or from the pleasure he’s giving you, but something splits inside that opens the flood gates of your own feelings for Joel. In a second, your grip on him gives you the leverage to press him back to sit, straddling him as you start to ride him, the air thick and heavy with heat as Joel peppers kisses to your chest. He leans back against the sofa, tilting his head up to study your face while you fuck yourself on his cock.

He’s looking at you as if your God’s gift to the world — to him. That all of the shit he’s waded through in his life, it was all worth it to have you in the end. Knows he needs you, wants you desperately, for the rest of his life and would give anything to make that happen.

“M’gonna marry you, my beautiful girl. Made my life so much better from the second I met you. No puedo vivir sin ti a mi lado. (I can’t live without you by my side.) Don’t make me live another second without you. Gonna get you a ring and do all right for you, my Mari baby, but promise me you’ll be mine. Para siempre. (Forever.)”

You grip his shoulders tighter, moving your hips faster and looking down at him, one hand moving to caress his cheek.

“Siempre, baby. Always. I’d say yes to you a million times over. I promise, it’s you and me, J. I love you.” A handful of tears escape, and Joel is quick is wipe them away, kissing you deeply and nudging his nose against you as his warm breath spreads across your face.

Another beat of your hearts together, and you’re right at the edge, moaning his name quietly. He plants his feet to stay steady while he thrusts up into you, one arm wrapped around your waist.

“Gonna come, fuck, pretty girl. Feels so fuckin’ good.”

“Me…Me too, J. Oh my god—” you whisper back to him.

“Come for me, Mari baby.” The next second, there’s a crackling fire burning inside as hot pleasure spreads across your body, all the way through your fingers and toes. Joel stutters from under you, coming apart at the same moment as you. Ropes of his come paint yours walls, sweet moans spilling from his lips as he fucks you through it.

Falling out of the haze, Joel’s arms snake around you and hold you against him, your head finding the crook of his neck when you fall forward. He kisses your temple and rocks you gently, silence blanketing the room while you both catch your breaths.

Joel breaks first, rasp ringing in your ear, “I hope you know that doesn’t count as my proposal. Gonna do it all right for you, Mari baby. You deserve fireworks and rose petals and white doves flying around. Whatever you want.”

A giggle from you makes him smile, and you pick up your head to look him in the eye, devotion filling them and sending a tingle through his spine.

“I don’t need all that stuff, J. Jus’ need you to ask, and I’ll say yes.”

Your hand caresses his cheek, thumb brushing against his cheekbone as your match his smile.

“Love you, Joel.”

“Te amo, Mari.”

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[writingcold]

Chapter Eight - Internal flaws and internal conflicts will lead the way

Content Warnings:  I need to put this here - this is a work of fiction. There will be imagery of violence, character deaths, inequities, poverty, heavy angst, and adult sexual situations throughout the story. Please read at your own discretion. All characters are fictional, though some of the big events that are shown are historical, but may not be historically accurate. 

Thank you to @edgingthedarkness for all of her help as my all mighty beta for this fiction. She listened to me drone on and on about it for months on end. She really took a bullet for this one! She created the banner for this story as well! Also thank you to @katuschka for her amazing skills in bringing our hero Jakub to life. Divider art by @ firefly-graphics.

The Dead

Jake X Fem!Reader

Chapter Eight word count: approximately 6000 words

Warnings in this part: Sibling arguing, feelings of self doubt, grief.

Chapter 8.1: Swansong in the Graveyard

     “Spill it,” Owen said as he stared directly into his phone.

      Fighting the urge to laugh, I found distraction in yanking the pan of eggs from the stove before they burned. “Spill what?”

      “Gran says that you’re still in Frankenmuth.”

      I nodded as I plated up my breakfast. “So?”

     “I don’t know when the last time you were in a single place that long just to do research,” he jabbed. “If you wanted a dude in lederhosen, I could’ve flown you here to-”

     I grumbled, bobbling my plate and coffee to the table away from the phone. “It’s just more than I planned on. That’s all.”

     “Still not talking about the story is what is bothering me,” he admitted, turning back to the screen just as I returned to grab my phone from the counter. “Typically you’re done with research and writing by now. How interesting can that touristscape be?”

      I rolled my eyes and moved the topic away from me but it boomeranged back within minutes.

     “What about that literacy bit you have - isn’t that coming up?” 

     Eating slowly, I explained how the conference would traverse across three days and many state-based authors and educators of all levels teaming up for more impactful and meaningful methods of catching the interest of kids and adults …

      “Stop,” he growled as I finally hit the bored button. A twinkle in his eye caught me off guard as he leaned in close. “You gonna take the cute pilot to the conference?”

     I blinked. I blinked again as my brother’s grin grew smug. “Pardon?”

     “The pilot? Maybe he can fly you two out and then-”

     “Owen,” I tried to break in, but he continued to ramble. He spoke unabashedly. “Owen, please.”

     “Come on, Y/n,” he jabbed. “He’s a good looking guy. How could you not-”

     “I’m hanging up.”

     “No! What the hell is going on?”

     “Don’t want to talk about it.”

     He sat back in his chair. When I finally looked at the screen and took in his expression, I knew he got it. Maybe.

     “Since when?”

     “Since when, what?” I dodged.

     “You’re not seeing that guy.”

     “Well, since it wasn’t anything but fun anyway-”

     “Jesus,” he huffed. He did not bother to wait for my response. “When are you gonna give this up and take meeting someone seriously?”

     “Maybe when you-”

     “Dumbest argument ever.” He flipped me off and my jaw dropped. “I at least got married. Divorced, yeah. But I was married and loved it, remember? You won’t even try for fuck’s sake.”

     “I’m just saving a whole lot of trouble for someone.”

     “Bull shit.”

      “You’re not my therapist.”

      “Considering you don’t have a therapist, I kinda am, sis.”

      “Owen, let it drop.”

      His eyes pierced the screen and hit mine and my cheeks colored all the more. It was the same look mom would deal out when we were caught avoiding chores or doing something naughty.

      “I just want you to be happy.”

      “I don’t need to be in a relationship to be happy.”

      “No, but you sure as shit deserve to be happier.” He fell quiet and I picked at a bit of dry skin on my palm. “I know this year is hard. Shit, every year has been hard.”

      I swallowed. He looped us back to a conversation from my prior year’s birthday. I had officially out-lived my mother. To think that by the time she was thirty two, Corrine had lived her whole life. The notion made all the bruises of losing her and Dad all the more fresh. Grief is strange that way. Loss does not get easier as the years pass. It doesn’t heal. No. Those are the kind of wounds that are permanent. They rear up every day and your brain just puts the pain into a box with a lid and a label to remind you. But it never goes away. Owen was the only one who knew who Mom and Dad were for us. Gran might have been her mother, but Corrine was our mom. That kind of permanence doesn’t go away. Not ever.

      Feeling wrung out and done, I told my brother that I loved him and would talk with him in a few days. Upset was not the right word. It was easy to brush others off as just not understanding the situation. With Owen, hiding was not an option. What was an option was to shove the whole conversation to the side and ignore it for a few blissful hours to focus on research. 

     “Fuck,” I sighed as I looked at my scattered pile of notebooks and the singular tab that was open on the laptop. 

     What was there really to research? I had followed the thread of Jake Thomas and of Yakov Petrov to its end. Whoever the hell it actually was in that cemetery was just as elusive as the story itself. Was there a pirate? Yup. Was there a love story right out front and center? Yes. It hurt my head all the more that both were dead and stuck in a cemetery trying to figure out how to ‘move on’ but not leave each other.

      “God, this sucks balls,” I griped.

      How dramatic would it be to torch a manuscript? Would it hurt? Would I laugh maniacally as I dropped it page by page into the open flame? Or perhaps let it spoil in the rain. Ah, even better - cast it to the wind off some mountain would be delightful, I would imagine. The writers of old must have relished in the self murder of their work, unlike what it takes today. Striking a simple delete key does not seem to have the same killing stroke.

     My vibe must’ve been casting a bat signal as a text came through from Vin, scheduling a check in in a few days. I grimaced. I was going to have to get my shit together and make my story the best ever gothic pirate romance. Fuck my life. In truth, I was at a dead end. No pun intended, of course. Guitar Jake or Yakov the Artist. There was no real way to incorporate them in the story either. Maybe they could be side characters? The dynamic could add to a comedic element. Twentieth century hedonist rock star meets nineteenth century hedonist artist from deep in his own family tree…

     “I have officially lost my shit,” I muttered as I made myself move away from my perch at the table.

     Truth be told, if my research was complete, there was no reason to stay in Frankenmuth - was there? The idea seemed wrong. The thought was frayed at the ends like it was trying to stop me from leaving. I melted into the soft cushions of the sofa. Funny idea that was - but why? My fingers found the comfort of the tangled, corded fringe of a pillow as my mind began to drift.

⭒☾   I smoothed the scratchy lace down across the bodice of the dress. The pit of my stomach bristled with opposition. I did not need another party. I did not need to dance and smile and laugh falsely. I did not need to breathe in smoke and the same conversations over yet again. I wanted to lay with my Jakub and feel his warmth around me. I wanted to read to him and him to me and listen to his breathing with the crash on the velvet shore as the sun cast its last rays to the sky. I wanted to feel his strength and bask in the heat of us.

      However, there I was, walking down the grand stairs, eyes cast to me as if I were some entity to be in awe of. Father was clapping his hands and his voice was booming across the house guests in a tone of celebration. The players began to draw their bows across their strings in a lively jig that tugged the gathering to the wide planks of the ballroom. I blew out a breath that was sour as I cast a wary eye at the backs of my guests. I took refuge with my lovely sister-in-law, Celeste, in the sitting room where voices were hushed and tempers were placid. Somehow, she had hidden a tiny book of sonnets in the folds of her skirts. We read together and kept out the voices of those around us. 

      “Have you seen him? Has he been here to call upon you?” she whispered, her voice full of conspiracy wrapped in grace.

      I nodded as I turned the page. “Been here two days and every moment he can, he is here.”

      “I thought I had caught a glimpse of him on the beach when Astrid and I were at the market this morn,” she said. Her smile was dreamy as she leaned into me. “He’s so handsome. If all you say is true, Maéva, he is a good man that you love.”

      The words shivered across my skin and tingled in my breath. Celeste was my only confidant. She was the only one that knew of how my heart fluttered and my smile sparkled any time my Jakub was near. She was the only one I knew would not cast judgment to his station in this world, as she herself was the daughter of a stablemaster. And she was just as giddy as me when it came to my tales of how we would dance in the tide as it tumbled ashore, or the little trinkets that he would bring to me from his ports of call. She would swoon just as much as I would over the pretty little rock or the pressed flower that would remind him of something I wore or made him feel.

     “Dance with me.”

      I looked up to find Matthias hovering above me, his hand, although turned up for me to take, was kept against his hip bone. I did not like his face. There was a darkness about him that he did not shake, nor did he try to truly hide. His status as a future viscount was his bank that he had overdrawn upon to make himself elevated over the rest of us. We all knew why the viscount had brought his family to this place - he was poorer than those that made their way on the beaches and on the ships of the harbor. He only presented lavishness and superiority due to the blood in his veins. Looking into his dead eyes and his flat mouth, I made my apologies that I was not well enough to dance. Celeste slid her fingers through mine to hold me close.

      “I am sorry, sir,” she said as if her tone was filled with silk. “But our Maéva feels a fever coming upon her-”

      He reached for our joined hands and separated us. “She looks plenty strong enough.”

      I searched for my father, but he was too busy clapping Matthias on with encouragement that I knew any argument would be for not. The anger toiled under my breath as I voided my expression. One dance. And then I could build upon Celeste’s fever fib. My eyes stared forward while my feet and frame moved in time with the players. I imagined my Jakub, dressed in the fine fabrics that Matthias wore, showing off the strong body and grace he had been blessed with. I saw him with his hair drawn back and his hands polished. But that was not him. No. My Jakub was wind blown and wild and hardened by work. His mind was open and his words were shaped by his experiences. That was the man I loved. Threadbare and hungry.

      Father and the viscount were close, talking with wide smiles. Their words were fast and glib looking. Father’s excitement was palpable. His hands were like two excited birds flitting around him. I gave the man I danced with no satisfaction of words. But then he gave me only silence anyway. It was as if he and I were in unvoiced agreement to pacify the patriarchs that were obviously so much more aflutter over our nearness. Soured thoughts were bending the joyful notes that filled my ears. Each face that I looked upon held anticipation and cheer. Anxiety stabbed at my feet. My limbs turned heavy as I turned away from him to give me some distance from his nearness. Celeste hurried towards me, her pretty face stretched with concern.

      “Come. The air grows too close for us here,” she was saying as Matthias reached to catch my shoulder.

      “They expect us to dance, madam,” he said, voice icy and hand heavy on my skin.

      “They can be disappointed then,” she remarked.

       My feet fumbled forward. I was thankful for the full skirt to hide such ungainly steps. My breath felt hot in my mouth and my stomach lurched. Everything felt woozy as Celeste maneuvered us through the tangle of guests. I wanted my rooms, but instead, she drew me to the parlor where she could shut away the eyes and wagging tongues but get me to sit.  

      “You do have a fever,” she said as she cast the window open.

      “No,” I said, wiping at my mouth. “I was just faint. Perhaps his sickish perfume was too close to my nose.”

      “He really is a brute. I heard Abel saying some rather unkind statements about that one.” She was pouring a few drops of wine into a tiny glass as I tried to compose myself. “We can hide here for a while. I’m sure Papa will be on the hunt for us, but I say let him hunt. I do not trust him when he is with the viscount. He changes when that man is near.”

      She was correct. Father changed in the face of bred privilege. My soul quivered across the notion. My father’s intentions were becoming very clear. It sickened me. I wondered if they were in negotiations for my hand already, or perhaps still in the discovery phase like two dogs, sniffing at each other to see if the carcass of the other was willing to submit. Tears prickled at my eyes at the thought. I had no control over this and it was as if I was a prized bitch looking to be sold. Celeste took to my side, but I could not be consoled. I wanted my Jakub. Such a simple dream to love him and be with him… ☾

      My lungs burned like I had been under water too long. I sputtered and coughed through emotions as I pushed away from the couch. I was crying. My cheeks felt hot and sticky and wet with strangled cries that I had just been having in my dream-state. I was quick to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water to cool the effects. The dreams were getting harder to take. I had tried to write them down as is, but they were like smoke through my brain, too thin and elusive to really record. Although, I was discovering that elements of these pieces were landing more often into the story. Spooky. It was the sense of my brain leaking out uncontrollably onto the proverbial page that bothered me more than the gothic pirate love story as a whole.

     I needed out of the rental for a bit. It was too late for lunch, but early supper wasn’t a horrible thing. Deciding on the diner, I packed up my bag and thought perhaps I could tuck into a corner and proof the last few pages over coffee and sandwich without having to hog a booth or table during a rush. I was correct that it was not busy, but there was a rather large, loud group that had pushed six tables together in the middle to accommodate their numbers. By the look of it, it was a men’s group that was meeting for their afternoon dose of gossip.

      I slid into the booth that the server had waved me to. My eyes rolled closed over the first sip of steaming coffee. God that was good. I tucked behind the laptop, fighting to keep my expression blank as I read over the squishy words that I was daring to call worthy of a story. I sat back as the server returned to take my order. As I handed her the menu, I noticed a set of eyes I had seen before - faded blue jean colored and a very sun weathered smile met my gaze. I grinned at the kind man from the park who had been working.

     Dinner finished, and some hot gossip taken in with hearty laughter, I decided to walk through the park by the library, and perhaps step foot inside as it had been a few days since I had looked across the books and care that Becca and the others had helped me through. Stopping at the florist, I purchased a few large plants to take along in thanks. It would be my first step in severing the connection here. I owed them so much, even if it did not amount to what I would really be using in the story. 

      “I come bearing gifts,” I announced as I struggled through the door.

     Becca was quick to help. “Oh, these are lovely.”

     “I thought a little more green in here would keep you bright,” I said, smiling across the wide range of plants and live displays that would carry the library through the winter.

     I helped her put them close to the windows by my workstation. I grinned as I looked at her. “I’m afraid I’m nearing the end of my stay,” I admitted, my fingers drifting across the huge binding of the newspapers.

     She smiled. “You’ve found what you’ve come for.”

     I nodded, though reluctance swam across my heart. “I believe that I have. You have been so good to me here.”

     Emotional outburst aside, it was going better than I planned. We chatted a bit before I set into the books that had become the path of my story that made my fingers itch, despite not really liking the plot. Perhaps I will settle into it at some point. 

      “Oh my goodness,” Becca exclaimed from behind the glass of the back office. 

      I was not the only one to sit up, prairie dog style looking for the source of upset. She was making her way towards me with a look that might have been inspiration. I glanced around to find that other patrons were just as puzzled as I was.

      “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before, Y/n,” she proclaimed as she had eyes cast down on her phone, scrolling. “What was I thinking? Or… well. Not thinking is more like it.”

      “Uh, wanna catch me up here, Becca? I’m not from here, remember,” I laughed at her flustered state, sure she was thinking full sentences, but what was coming out made no sense.

      She grinned as she waved at me. Her exuberance washed over me and it was hard not to get caught up in it, even though I had no idea what was going on. “I have someone I need you to meet.”

Chapter 8.2: Swansong in the Graveyard

     “We need to run.”

     The words blazed in my thoughts as I watched the creature rise from my grave once more. I had come to the decision that this feminine form could not be Maéva. If the memories that had been shown to me thus far were true, then this thing could not be her. If this thing were my soulmate, there would be no hesitation within and know me for what I am - hers. And the truth would be the same for me, but all I could feel towards it was… curiosity. Perhaps anger. Jealousy, even. How such a creature could be doomed to repeat or seem to repeat the same construct of a path over and over without meaning…  Wait. What am I if that road of thought were true?  What am I in this half existence but the same as the creature - am I nothing more than goo from the ether that has been chained to a strip of ground because of some man’s greed and foul nature? For lack of a better phrase, I closed my being off from the lights of the world as the creature slipped away once more. Could something such as myself be petulant? The stray thought struck as the gate whined to its closed position.

     “We need to leave.”

     Her hands were shaking against my chest. Whatever had happened had just occurred. She had run to me still dressed in her fine cream and olive green gown. The lace puckered and draped across her breasts and dripped from her shoulders. I could not stop myself from dragging my fingers across her collarbones and up along her graceful neck. I tried to soothe her with my words and touch and kisses, but she whipped herself away from me.

     “Jakub!” she cried, her delicate fingers tucking into tight fists.

     “Just tell me then what has happened,” I said, unable to keep the edge of impatience from my tone.

     She withdrew a few steps. Her features slacked with an expression that made me quiet. “I am to marry.”

     The bottom of my very shallow world fell away. I could not understand her words that she continued to speak. Every bit of me was frozen on the notion that she was meant for another.

     “Jakub,” she whispered.

      I kissed her. It was all I could do. Our dream was to be severed. I pressed my fingertips into the plump of her blurred out cheek and the hardness of her back as if I could force her to be part of me through this mourning. She reeled back from me with a frustrated cry.

      My thoughts thinned and I found myself kneeling, hands dug into the darkness of the dirt. I begged the cosmos to allow me to see her - to see my Maéva. To know her features, her expressions, her… her soul and how it resided in her eyes. I could feel her innocence. I could feel her goodness. It danced across my fabric. But to just glimpse her eyes and know her. My chin tipped and I looked into the velvet of the night sky and the swirl of songs and begged for that scrap of memory.

      “No- no, Jakub,” she stammered. “We can leave this place - together. We can go to the east! We can build our lives there!”

     “Maéva, you don’t know what it’s like-”

     The sound she made hit me. I had insulted her.

     “I don’t know what? How to live without my family? Or do you mean to say I do not know how to live without my family’s wealth?”

     I felt a sigh bubble through my chest. “You don’t know what it truly means to be cold or hungry. Despair is not what I ever want for you.”

     “If it means we are together, I would gladly show you what strength lies in these bones of mine.” 

     She was so resolute. So sure of herself. It was the trappings of her always having what she needed that gave her that kind of confidence. I felt small for these thoughts. She possessed such knowledge, such a drive to learn - but this. What she was asking would take away the shelter that allowed her to thrive in that world.

     “Jakub - you could learn to farm, or build ships or apprentice in some other trade,” she was explaining. “And I could teach!”

     “Teach?”

     “I taught you. Surely there is no other more stubborn student!” Her laugh was pulling at my resolve. “Or I can learn to be a clerk, or even farm at your side if you are willing to have me.”

     She was reaching for me once more and I could not keep my hands from passing across the fine fabric that held a menagerie of flowers and moths and swirls of colors that I could’ve studied for days to pick out all of the finer details. She knew there was nothing I would not do for her. But this - to just run. To leave them all behind and live in this world together - as equals.

      “My mother,” I whispered into her hair.

     “Of course we will bring her,” she said without hesitation.

     Her exuberance was hard not to purchase in to.

     “You have been to Boston and New York. We can make our life there. We could be free there,” she continued on.

     I paused, knowing that no ship would be leaving any time soon. “When does your father expect this wedding?”

     “June.”

     The lake ice would have the harbor locked up for a few more weeks. If LaBeau was willing to wait to give his daughter away, that gave us the opportunity to book passage. My purse was too light to do this - to make our escape. I was already a beggar. How was I to do this without coin, without…

      She kissed me and led my hands against her fine dress. She was shivering with cold. I folded her close knowing that I needed to return her to the cage of her rooms - at least for now. I wrapped my coat around her, the bite of cold nipped at me but she allowed me to hold her close as we began to walk. Maéva was like a bird, chirping out plans and flittering with excitement. 

     The doubt attacked in the silence of my brain once it was alone. How could I care for her? Surely she would come to regret stepping so willingly into the depths of poverty and find her love turning to resentment when the realization came that her belly was empty and her body exposed to the true harshness of this world. To know that she would willingly walk into the sheer unknown only because she loved me, set my brain on needles with thoughts of unsureness. She trusted that I would provide what I could and in trade she would care for me. Though these lands of the new world were framed as obtainable dreams, that was still only true for those of wealth. Maéva would grow tired of the scrabble to just survive on the daily means of hard labor. Perhaps I should walk away and let her to her path of husband and titles and …

      My gaze turned to the way the tops of the trees bent under the angry gust of wind. It matched my own thoughts. I had entertained leaving her behind? I wanted to leave her to a fate chosen by her father? If an entity such as myself could feel shame, I am sure I was feeling it the only way I knew how. The waves of color that thundered around me, billowing into storm clouds, were gathering to punish me. Fun was on them - apparently all of this was punishment across all time.

     I had watched the ice slowly crush against the shore. Maéva fought with me to take her purse and purchase three tickets on the first ship that could carry us east. It was going to be hard enough to try to get her aboard without recognition, but to be forced to use her own money - it was not the start to our lives that I wanted and it bruised my ego in a way that was difficult to swallow. After years of watching my mother struggle to keep us alive, then adding my hands to the work, it was beyond hard to take her money, no matter the cause. I had fought my way through this life. I would fight my way to get away with her, even if it meant I had to take her as a married woman - take her from that rogue of a man her father deemed better.

     It was bitter. My need to stand in our way because of some perceived notion that I had to be a man for her was dragging upon us, threatening the tender thread of a chance that waited for us. What a fool I was.

     Another grand ball celebrating the engagement roused me from my sulking, for that was what I really was doing - acting like a child who had been scolded and paddled. I snuck up onto the side patio, staying to the shadows with my eyes searching for Maéva. There were musicians playing and people moving around with huge smiles that oozed privilege. I saw LaBeau waving his arms around and acting like he was the rooster on the field while his daughter stood at another man’s side. I hated it - the sight of that man, that Matthias, being so close to her made a rage boil in my belly that I could not tolerate. 

     Their hands met and he guided her through a dance that made the guests of the party clap their hands and smile their most beautiful smiles. No smile was upon Maéva’s mouth, however. Quite the opposite. What more, Matthias mirrored her hard expression. I watched as she turned, full of grace, full of beauty while her father beamed in his greed and lust for title for the family. And the man who was equally bright - that must have been the viscount. He was practically leering over the merchant’s purse that swung so heavy at his side and dripped from the walls of his marvelous manor house. They were the mechanism that drove this union, surely.

     I caught Maéva’s eye, but withdrew deeper into the shadows. Amongst the smiles and delicate music, I solidified my presence as an outlier. I would free her from this fate that her father wanted more for himself than for her. To know that he would damn her for a few scraps of veneration was sickening. Was his wealth not enough, must he really have a title to put before his name as well? 

     Pathetic.

     The veil of clouds streaked across the velvet of night, curling and swirling through the air like the smoke from Monsieur LaBeau’s fine pipe. I could feel the anger I had felt across the expanse of time. If that was a lesson that I needed to learn from, then in my stubbornness, I never learned to let that malice subside. I could feel it still bubble and toil on my echoed thoughts.

     I stole away from the manor house like a stray cat turned away from its supper. I lingered on the edges of the beach, not wanting to be seen by anyone for fear of seeing the toil of my struggle over her. I had sequestered her coins under the floor of my bed. I would collect those coins and find a ship to the east coast. It would be easier to hide in a city. Perhaps we could get to Savannah. I had listened to a fellow deck hand ramble for hours about the warmth and wild beauty of the near tropical port. Or maybe Philadelphia. There were many, many people there making hiding amongst them easier.

     I knew she would be in the market the following day with her matron. We’d found it easy enough for me to shadow her for a chance to talk. It was always near the baker when Leila would have her attention pulled enough away from her charge that we could sneak away for long enough for the woman to take no notice. The morning found me lingering amongst the fringes of the market square, my stomach empty. Mother had used the last few coins for medicine for the woman next door. The babe had been sick for days. Mother had been trying to apply the typical remedies, but the fever was slow to break and it was obvious that the child's needs were beyond her hands. She bartered where she could, but when there was nothing left to barter with, she would turn to what her body may earn. I would be sure to beg the stable master and the blacksmith for work, even if it meant for a few scraps to get us through a few days.

      And there it was once more. I hid this from Maéva. This aspect of struggle. I wondered if I did it to protect her or keep her blind? It did not matter. She would hear me once more lay out what was ahead, but I knew in my heart that she would not listen. She would have to learn hunger and need through experience and I would have to keep my tongue about me as she waded through the mire in hopes that she would not wake and realize the horrible mistake that she was making on loving me.

     Close to midday, I was near giving up that she would arrive, and getting more frustrated as I knew I should be finding work for my hands, not standing idle. Finally, she appeared, fresh and bright amongst the damp and dingy pier. I fought my heart from just running to her. How foolish would that be. No. I waited and quietly watched as she looked over the wares she was there to procure for another day in the grand house. Her matron was already looking thin of patience. I wonder if Maéva had deliberately worn her through before even reaching the market for the sole purpose of this visit. I bided my time, moving slowly and making sure to look at the different vendors before stopping once more before the baker’s stall. My stomach stabbed and complained. I was fighting the urge to snatch a lump of bread that had been cut apart and tossed to the side as stale as it was easier to feed it to the birds than a human in need. I dug my fist deeper into my torn pocket in hopes that it would keep me from the easy notion of theft. She approached, relieving my thoughts of my hollow belly.

      “Good day,” she whispered, hiding her mouth in her outstretched arm.

      I smiled and nodded as I looked for the matron. “Talk?”

     I moved away as was our warrant in such affairs. I would find her once more closer to the beach once she was able to slip the eye of Leila. There was a spot under the well trod boards of the pier that was in between the massive pylons where the boulders sheltered the land. I waited, breathing in the soured, fish riddled air. Maéva appeared in all of her faceless brightness, but I could feel her smile radiating off all of her body. It was always the same without fail whenever she came near. I could only imagine what I actually looked like, but on the inside - I swooned over her nearness.

     She took my hand and I leaned in to kiss her mouth, but I stopped before the sweet crush touched my lips. “Will you want to go to Savannah?” I whispered.

     Half of a breath later, her arms were thrown around my neck and her lips to mine with a trill of laughter. I found myself caught up in her exuberance. My love for her was absolutely consuming and yet so strong that I felt as if I could sustain on our love alone.

     Coyotes chirping in the distance drew my eye back to the present. The creature was once again laying upon my grave. It was torture not knowing the significance of this being. Or perhaps it was the anguish of knowing this lingering was my form of purgatory. I was languishing across centuries of time that I should have been with her - with my Maéva. 

Yeah. So where do we go from here? 💚

Tags are in the comments as it seems to work best that way! If you want to be added, let me know.

@edgingthedarkness @its-interesting-van-kleep  @lvnterninthenight  @katuschka @thewritingbeforesunrise @ignite-my-fire @takenbythemadness @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @fleet-of-fiction @demonrat444 @klarxtr @peaceloveunitygvf @hollyco @lipstickitty @joshym @itsafullmoon @josh-iamyour-mama @jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka @way-to-go-lad @jjwasneverhere @gretavangroupie @emojakekiszka @wetkleenex-gvf @vanfleeter @losfacedevil @myownparadise96 @lizzys-sunflower @literal-dead-leaf @musicislove3389 @raceb14

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  Penny00Dreadful! @penny00dreadful has 29 fics in the Stranger Things fandom with 25 of them being in the Steddie Tag!

@hbyrde36 recommends the following works by @penny00dreadful:

Crossroads

Cat and Mouse

I'll Tell You My Sins and You Can Sharpen Your Knife

And They Were Roommates!

The Parting Glass

Sam, on top of being an absolutely amazing writer (AND artist!), is one of the brightest lights in this fandom (in my humble opinion). She is incredibly kind and encouraging, always ready to uplift other authors in the Steddie and ST fanfic worlds. I have had the incredible pleasure of being her beta reader for quite some time now, and am consistently blown away by her talent. There isn't a single one of her works that I wouldn't recommend, they are all fantastic reads. -- @hbyrde36

Below the cut, @penny00dreadful answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Opposites attract has always been a major draw for me, especially in my fandoms. Every pairing I’ve ever gotten into in every fandom I’ve been in have all been opposites attract and I’m not going to lie to you, I did not make that realization until this question. 😅 I had a very “Huh… that tracks” moment about it. 🤣 So the opposites attract factor is definitely big for me and while I suppose you could say that’s true for many, many pairings in fandom, there’s something about the complete opposite of both Steve and Eddie that is just enrapturing. From their aesthetic, to their personalities, to their upbringing, it creates such incredibly interesting parallels and options for building stories around them. On top of that, the two of them are so compelling as characters. Their various hang ups and traumas, their loves and hates, the time period and the genre of work they originated in all coalesce into something so captivating. I adore the two of them so much, they’re so fascinating. I think everyone can find a little bit of themselves in either one of them, but especially with the addition of Eddie into the series we got a character who was ‘other’, in the same way so many of us feel and are seen, he speaks to us on such a personal level. So, yeah. I love them.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Oh boy. There are so many. Enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluff. But if I had to pick one that has been my longest standing love, it would have to be a slow burn. Like, when it hits, it hits. And it hits hard.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

I looooove writing some tasty hurt/comfort. There’s just something so addictive about someone needing to be taken care of after something bad or traumatic happens or they’ve just had a really shitty day. It’s so cathartic. And also, I cannot like, I love getting comments screaming at me that I’ve made people hurt or cry or feel things because I know I’m going to make it better, I’m gonna give them that comfort. And it’s such an incredible compliment from people when they tell me that my writing has made them feel feelings. Like it is the highest praise possible that I could induce that in someone. It feels amazing.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

Oh my god, that is such a difficult question to answer. I have read so many that have left a permanent mark on my heart or completely rewired my brain. I had to go look through my bookmarks to narrow it down because my god, there are so many talented people in this fandom and even then I was attempted to just give a list of all my top ones because, god they make me feel so many things, people are so fucking talented, I love them. But I would say if I had to choose one, there’s one that lives rent free in my brain. I think of it all the time, it is so god damn special to me and if I’m being honest with myself, it’s the first one that came to mind, It would have to be wouldn’t it be nice (if we could wake up) by kissesforcas  kissesforcas I have talked about this fic on my blog before but it just hits me in the right way every time I read it, it’s absolutely magical. I can’t recommend it enough, please go read it. It changed me completely.  There’s so many beautiful moments in it, the two boys are so protective of each other in it, but they also adore their found family and will defend them at any cost, the two of them feel real, their communication feels genuine and honest and realistic while also being true to their characters, I just adore it.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

YES. FANTASY. It is wild to me that I have not done a fully fledged fantasy AU at all yet. Like I adore fantasy, what gives? Why have I not done it yet? Omg ALSO, historical. Like a lot of my special interests are historical based, WHY have I not done that yet?? AND, AND horror maybe? Like a psychological or zombie or paranormal/supernatural or slasher. So many things I haven’t explored that I want to do, and I can’t wait!

What is your writing process like?

Okay, so first things first, I get an idea.  Kind of obvious, I know, but yeah, the idea stage. Usually it’ll be something that hit out of nowhere, I’ll write down one line in the ideas doc and then pretend I won’t be thinking of it for the rest of the day. Then when I admit to myself I want to expand on it, I’ll take all of the brain worms attached to that idea and put them in their own doc. It’ll all be VERY disjointed at this stage, just a stream of consciousness of different situations/conversations/plot bunnies that popped into my head. Once I feel like I have enough of a concept through that, I begin to put them in order, maybe add a few more. Then I outline. I’m an outline kinda gal.  Over a page or two I’ll give a bare bones outline of what the fic will be, almost like it’s a short story? But still very rough.  Then I’ll start writing, usually in chronological order, I find that makes it easier to plant seeds and foreshadow and create consistency with the voice of the fic. Sometimes I will jump ahead if I’m really excited about a particular part of the fic, I’ll get it out before I lose steam on it. HOWEVER, I find that I almost ALWAYS diverge from the outline. If, as I’m writing, things start going in a different direction, I go with the flow, I don’t fight it. Fighting it, I feel is detrimental to my writing, trying to force myself into a box and hey, going with the flow has been working out pretty well for me so far. 🤣

Do you have any writing quirks?

Quirks? I dunno about that. I think I’m a pretty standard writer, but I do end up writing across three devices a lot of the time depending on where’s more comfortable. PC, tablet and phone. I’ll always stick to writing whatever my brain is focusing on at that time, but if I know I need to get a fic out and I’m not really feeling the inspo anymore, I’ll give myself an extra boost by watching movies with similar themes, listening to music related to it, or even just searching the trope on Pinterest can help me generate excitement about it again.Also do yourself a favor and get yourself a Bluetooth keyboard. It’s a game changer for writing on your phone.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I’ve done both and I much prefer posting on a set schedule. I always try to get the fic at least 50% finished before I start posting to give myself a nice cushion. Yeah, the immediate endorphin hit of posting once I’m done is great, but I much prefer the option to have a fic mostly or completely done before I post, so I can go back in and tweak things to make a theme hit harder or stick in a tad more foreshadowing or even just to edit.

Which fic are you most proud of?

I love all of my works, honestly. I write for me. I write the things I want to read. I think it would be difficult to narrow down a fic that I am the most proud of. Like I’m actually having a really difficult time picking one and saying “This one. This is the one I am most proud of.” Because I am proud of all of them and it’s for each of their own reasons. Like, some are very, very personal to me, some are stories that made me feel completely unhinged and obsessed(affectionately) and some are stories that touched people in very real ways, or made them feel safe and seen and that is so incredibly special to me. It’s a bit of a cop out to say that I can’t pick one, I can’t choose between my children, but I really can’t, they’re all so special, at least to me, in their own ways.

How did you get the idea for Crossroads?

So I have never seen the movie The Old Guard, but I have heard of it and while I know that reincarnation is not an aspect of that movie, I was struck with the idea of someone going through life over, and over, and over again, just to be close to the one they love the most. Like that kind of time bending devotion. And I had a brain worm of various historical ways of dying and I couldn’t figure out a way to write all of them into one fic before the idea of reincarnation hit. The very first image I had in my head of Eddie dying was being burned at the stake, so I had to work my way up to that time period and beyond. I knew I didn’t want it to be something that had only happened a few times over a couple of hundred years.  I knew I wanted it to be an ancient, centuries spanning kind of devoted love which is what led me to Ancient Greece, and in leading me there, I had to figure out why this was happening. Why Steve was traversing time just to be next to his boy again. Hecate appeared out of the mist and invaded my brain and it all kind of spilled out onto the page after that. 

When writing Cat and Mouse, what was something you didn’t expect?

I gotta be honest, the whole fic was unexpected. 😅 It was one of those stories when I originally thought of it, it was only gonna be a short little thing, maybe one or two chapters. By the end of it we were at 16 chapters and over 70K. Apparently I have no idea how to write anything short. But I think what also took me by surprise was how feral the two of them were for each other even though they didn't actually get together until later. I knew I wanted to have them being snappy and flirtatious for the whole thing and it evolved into the two of them being so dedicated to each other after only meeting a few times. I also didn’t expect the wild reaction I got to the fic, people loved it and were chomping for more and I was floored by it, it made me so incandescently happy!

What inspired Cat and Mouse?

So, the short answer is I saw this post from steddielations and it burrowed so deep into my brain, I had to get it out! Long answer is it was a mix of that post, and then a bit of Mr & Mrs. Smith mixed in along with John Wick. I just loved the idea of two deadly people being so soft for each other they’d be willing to burn the world for each other, do anything at any cost to keep the other safe.

What was your favorite part to write from And They Were Roommates!?

Oh my god, the banter. The banter was loaded with bitching and queerspeak and jabs, it was so much fun. I hadn’t really seen a story where the steddie boys had been bitchy queers before, like leaning into it and I just had to, I had to. It was too good of an opportunity to pass up and I could have gone on for ages just the two of them biting back and forth.

How do/did you feel writing I'll Tell You My Sins and You Can Sharpen Your Knife?

Conflicted, honestly. I was worried the POV I was writing from would be a little too out there, you know? There were a few times throughout writing where I thought I’d have to go back and change it out to be more of a standard fic but at the end of the day it felt so right to have the story told the way it was and it also felt very in line with Take Me To Church as well. It’s also the most poetic piece of writing I have done to date and while it’s not something I can see myself revisiting too often, it was a fantastic exercise in moving out of my comfort zone. It got me, right in the heart.

What was the most difficult part of writing The Parting Glass?

Oh boy. The whole fic was an exercise in catharsis. It was a way of processing my own grief after losing a family member and getting it all out into words was very, very helpful. I think the hardest part was just putting down into words how Eddie was feeling right in the aftermath, you know? Like grief is such a personal thing, everyone experiences it differently, so I wanted to try to figure out how Eddie would respond to it, especially considering it was the death of someone so important to him. So to have him looking around the trailer and it being empty but still with bits of Wayne dotted around like he was about to walk back through the door was probably the realest and most difficult part for me.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

Oh god there’s so many! I could pick so many! But the first thing that came to mind is the small interaction between Eddie and Robin in Return of The King, when Steve is demonstrating his newly acquired vampire strength for the kids and Eddie has to hold onto Robin to keep himself from melting into a puddle: “Down boy.” She muttered. “Me next.” He practically whimpered right back. “Oh god, Robbie, I wanna be that stump. Tell him to do me next.” “You’re pathetic.” “What about it?” [...] Robin leaned in close to his ear but continued to stare at Steve. “If you two don’t calm the fuck down I’m going to get the hose.” Wet Steve. “Please get the hose.” I love Robin and Eddie together whenever I can get them snarking at each other, it’s just so entertaining. 

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Oh yeah! A good few things. I’m coming back from my writing break and I’m going to be working on the final two fics for my anniversary event, Through The Valley and Devotion.  I also have a Summer Exchange Fic in the works along with starting on my Steddie Big Bang piece that I am also signed up for as an artist, I’m so excited to start them!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

I think I would just like to add that this blog, this concept is such a wonderful idea, you’re doing great work here to bring people and fics to new eyes and it has been an honor and a privilege to be put forward the way I have, I’m so so so thankful. 🖤

Thank you to our author, @penny00dreadful, and our nominator, @hbyrde36! See more of Penny00Dreadful's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[wannab-urs]

Congrats on 1.5k! So deserved!! 🖤

To celebrate, I'd love a drabble. Any Pedro boy will do!

Keep rocking & being awesome, gorgeous! 🖤😘

Thank you so so so much <3 I hope you like this ahhhh

Save a Horse... Or Whatever

Pairing: Jack "Agent Whiskey" Daniels x Reader

Summary: Whiskey got hurt on a mission and he comes into your lab to get patched up.

Warnings: Jack Daniels being allowed to speak, medical shit that is completely bullshitted, one mention of blood, some talk of like digging around in a wound, etc, Whiskey calls you Soda pop and Sugar. Technically you're Agent Soda. Brief descriptions of oral m!receiving. No use of y/n, reader isn't gendered (I don't think?) WC: 900

A/N: I kind of think I'll turn this into a full one shot at some point? This is unbeta'd sorry!

Jack Daniels Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

You really did not expect to end up with Agent Whiskey’s cock in your mouth today. Maybe you’d thought about it before, maybe hoped the opportunity would present itself at some point, but certainly not today. 

–-

He left your field office this morning for what was supposed to be a simple mission. Go in, shoot the fuckers, take the briefcase, call in the clean up crew. Simple, easy, something he’d done a hundred times. But somehow it got fucked up six ways from Sunday and he ended up limping his sorry ass into your lab, carrying the brief case but also dragging his left leg. 

“Howdy, Soda Pop. Reckon you could fix up my leg?” He flashes you his trademark sideways smile and a wink, before his face crumples and his legs nearly give out from under him. 

“Fuck, Whiskey! What in the hell happened to you?” You run over to help him, grabbing his thick arm and heaving him onto your examination table. 

“Let’s just say I did not receive a Kentucky welcome.” 

“Clearly. Can you take your jeans off, or am I gonna have to cut you out?” Whiskey smirks at you again and you brace yourself for whatever is about to come out of his mouth. 

“Well now, Soda Pop, thought you’d at least take me out to dinner before you tried to get in my pants. Think I can manage to get naked for ya though, sugar.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Whiskey you’re literally bleeding out,” you chastise him as he pulls off his belt. He winces as he shucks his blood stained jeans down his thighs, panting a little with the effort.

You try desperately not to show how much it turns you on. The guy you’ve harbored a bit of a crush on for years stripping down right in front of you… Who could blame you, honestly?

“Fuck! Soda, I’m too weak to whip a gnat. You’re gonna have to pull ‘em the rest of the way.” He collapses back on the table, jeans sitting not even half way down his thighs. 

You huff an annoyed breath and roll your eyes. “Shoulda just let me cut them off, idiot.” You pull off his ridiculous designer cowboy boots and yank his jeans the rest of the way down. You head over to your storage cabinet and grab some alcohol wipes, a pair of forceps, and a Beta Gel shot. 

Stepping between his parted legs, you clean his wound with the wipes as carefully as you can. His breath hitches in what you assume is pain and he digs his nails into his palms. “Alright, Whiskey, I gotta dig the bullet fragments out now. I can give you a pain shot, but your leg will be numb for the rest of the day. Up to you.” 

He props himself up on his elbows and waggles his eyebrows at you. “Don’t need a shot, sugar. I can handle it.” 

You raise a very skeptical eyebrow, but grab the forceps anyway. As you start the process of removing metal fragments from his leg, Whiskey sucks in a breath and his head falls back between his shoulder blades. You initially think it’s from pain. “Sure you can handle it, cowboy?” 

“Oh yeah, baby doll. I can handle it.” You eye him suspiciously, before trailing your eyes back down to where you’re working on his leg. Something catches your attention though. 

“Jack Daniels,” you say sternly. “Are you fucking getting off on this?” His cock is half hard in his boxer briefs. 

“And what if I was? Pretty girl, fixin’ me up, touchin’ me all over…” He trails off. 

“That why you became an Agent, Whiskey? You got a pain kink?” You resume pulling the pieces of the bullet out of his leg, nearly done now anyway. 

“Just ignore it, sugar. It’ll go away,” his voice is raspy, rough as if he’d been yelling and so low you feel it in your gut. You pull the last bit of the bullet out, grab the beta gel shot, and stab it into his thigh. 

His cock jumps in his underwear and he falls flat back on the table, letting out a slight whimper. 

“And what if I don’t want it to go away, Whiskey?” You don’t move from between his thighs. In fact, you step in closer, trail your hands up the outsides of his thighs and press your thumbs in. 

His head perks up at that and he meets your eyes, a cocky grin spreading across his face. “Well then, Soda pop… How’d you like to ride home on a real cowboy?” 

“That’s a terrible line, Whiskey. I really hope you don’t use that often.” 

“Only once or twice, sugar.” You roll your eyes, but hook your fingers into the waistband of his briefs anyway. You pull them down and his cock springs out, hitting his belly with a thwack. “Jesus, Jack, how do you walk around with that thing?” 

“Bowlegged,” he deadpans. You snort a laugh and take him in your hand, wrapping your fingers around his obscene girth. You dip your head and lick a stripe up the underside of his cock before wrapping your lips around the tip and sliding down as far as you can in one smooth motion. 

–-

And that is how you ended up with Whiskey’s cock in your mouth today.  Next time you’re aiming to end up in his bed. 

[gojorgeous]

Just read that Alpha Gojo fic and I think at some point, maybe after the heat is over, readers gonna have to be like “I Am American And This Might Be A Problem” like do mates get automatic citizenship in Omegaverse? Is there a precedent for having to uproot your entire life because you got caught off guard and bonded to a guy in a different country? Moneys not an issue bc Gojo is rich as hell but a looong conversion awaits them.

i am, once again, about to discuss omegaverse lore on my blog. i'm gonna put a cut cause i think it's gonna be long and people don't need unwanted omegaverse on their feed LMAO:

yesssssss, i think reader goes through a lot directly after the end of the fic. I think she's going to have a lot of moments of crisis and it will really put both her and gojo to the test. I think they would both realize fairly quickly that she has to move to japan and, seeing as they're freshly bonded, i don't think gojo would even let her go back to america to arrange her moving. he'd just hire a bunch of people to pack up her apartment OR he would insist on going to america with her because it would be physically and emotionally dangerous for them to be parted for that long. i think that would end up being one of their first arguments.

i also unironically think omegaverse is really cool for the political/social contexts that it brings about (LMAO WHAT AM I ON ABOUT) cause it creates like an entirely separate category for people to be shuffled into and creates new societal problems. I would think that citizenship for reader wouldn't be too hard to get, even if it wasn't already guaranteed. Gojo would just hire a team of outrageously expensive lawyers to get it done asap lol.

i also think that gojo and reader's relationship is a bit tense and rocky for a while. they dance along this weird line of not being able to live without each other, but also understanding that they really don't know each other at all. granted, i think reader is the one with the biggest hangups. gojo is down to just love her off the bat lol.

i do feel really bad for reader because i think she'd have a full blown identity crisis. she goes from fully believing she's a beta to suddenly finding out she's an omega AND she bonds some guy she doesn't know AND he's satoru fucking gojo LMAO. i think anyone would feel overwhelmed. i think she really struggles with knowing if her feelings for him are real or if they're just caused by their dynamic. i think it takes lots of patience and gentleness from gojo to convince her that it's real and not just a biological thing.

in the end, i see it all working out for them, though :) happily ever after LMAOOOO

i hope you enjoyed my analysis bestie, thank you for the ask ily!!!

[jessybarnes]

Fandom: The Gray Man

Title: Bound

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x F!Reader

Rating: 18+ Only! Minors DNI!!

Word Count: 782

Tags: Smut, slight angst, dirty talk, bondage, bound and gagged, Blindfolds, choking, make up sex, fingering (female receiving), orgasm denial, begging, implied oral (male receiving), drinking, explicit language, explicit sexual content, and I think that's it

Written For: @kinktober2023, @anyfandomgoesbingo, @anyfandomangstbingo, @anyfandomdarkbingo, @badthingshappenbingo, and @thebo3bingo

Squares Filled: Kinktober Day 1 - I4 Bondage // Any Fandom Mixed Bingo - G2 Dirty Talk // Any Fandom Angst Bingo - G5 Blindfolds // Any Fandom Kink Bingo - G2 "I can be good, so good! I swear!" // Any Fandom Dark Bingo - I2 Bound and Gagged // Bad Things Happen Bingo - I2 Choking // BO3 Bingo - B4 Make Up Sex

Beta: Just Grammarly

Title Card: Yours Truly

A/N: I apologize that this is posting a day late. I had to go to the doctor and couldn't get this edited in time to post it. Day 2's drabble will be posted later tonight. :)

"I told you to stay still, Sunshine."

Lloyd sits in a chair across from you nursing a glass of bourbon. His posture is calm, but the stern look in his eyes tells you he's anything but.

You've been mounted to the St. Andrew's cross for nearly a half hour now, and you're getting antsy.

The mission you two had gone on was a success in your eyes, but Lloyd isn't focused on the computer you two were able to recover. No. He's choosing to focus on the unnecessary details.

"Baby, I've been up here since we got home. Please, can I get down?"

He takes a sip of his drunk, swirling the ice around in the glass.

"I'm admiring the view."

You sigh. "I know why you're mad, and I'm telling you, I didn't mean it. We wouldn't have gotten the damn laptop if I hadn't flirted with that idiot."

Lloyd's jaw ticks. Just the memory of seeing you, his girl, dancing with some other asshole makes his blood boil. He downs the rest of his drink and relishes the feeling of warmth in his chest.

"Will you just punish me already? I really need a shower."

He slams the glass down on the table so hard that you're surprised it's not broken. His eyes are dark with possessiveness as he approaches you, his hand wrapping around your throat.

"I don't care if you didn't mean it, Y/N! His fucking hands were all over you, touching what belongs to me!"

Lloyd loosens his grip on your neck allowing you to take in air again. He brings his thumb up and puts pressure on your bottom lip until it opens.

"You're mine. And I'm gonna keep you up here until it sinks in, you got that?"

You huff and roll your eyes making his narrow to thin slits.

"Better watch it, Sunshine, you're askin' for it."

"I am asking for it, Lloyd." The tone of your retort makes his cock twitch.

He grabs a ball gag and a blindfold off the dresser and fastens them in place.

"You oughta be using that smart mouth of yours for something more useful. Maybe I should stuff it full of my dick."

His voice is teasing, but you can't help but want him to do just that. Your panties are soaked from the feeling of the leather cuffs and the sensory deprivation, and you can't help the strangled moan that fills the room when his fingertips brush your clothed clit.

"Oh, but you'd like that, wouldn't you? Just like you liked dancing with that other man earlier, didn't you?"

You shake your head no and he chuckles.

"Yeah, somehow I don't believe that, Sunshine. You may not have liked the dancing with him part, but you knew it would piss me off and lead me to punish you. And you like being punished, don't you?"

You huff and give him a nod before rolling your eyes once more. He notices and growls deeply.

"Roll your eyes at me again and I'm the only one who gets to cum tonight. You got that?!"

You whine and nod as he pulls your panties to the side.

"Look at this fuckin' mess you've made. Soaking wet and I haven't even done anything. You're hungry for it, aren't you?"

He doesn't give you a chance to answer as he plunges two fingers inside you, pumping them fast and hard.

"Look at me, Y/N. You're mine. This pussy, these tits, this ass, this whole body belongs to me. I'm the only one who can make you cum like this."

Your strangled moans echo throughout the room as you feel yourself about to cum, but right before the dam breaks Lloyd pulls away making you whimper.

"No, not yet. You don't deserve it, but if you're a good little girl and ask very nicely, Daddy will let you suck his cock."

You try to talk around the ball gag and he chuckles.

"If I take that off are you gonna be polite?"

You nod eagerly and he removes it from your mouth. Your tongue comes out to wet your lips and Lloyd's eyes hone in on the movement.

"Go on, Sunshine. Tell me why you think you should get to cum."

He thrusts his fingers back inside you but keeps them still. A soft moan falls past your lips and he chuckles as your pussy clenches around them.

"I can be good, so good! I swear!"

Lloyd clicks his tongue and leans in close, his lips ghosting over yours.

"Oh, I'd be very good if I were you, Y/N. That's the only way you're getting what you want tonight."

[noisynaia]

Two Doors Down

[Frankie Morales x Reader]

summary: You are getting over a breakup and decide to go to your friend and neighbour Benny's house party.

word count: 2.6k 

rating: M

pairing: Fransisco "Catfish" Morales x f!reader 

note: Drinking and smoking. No use of (y/n). The reader uses she/her pronouns. This has not been beta-read and English is not my native language. Part 2

crossposted on my ao3

The Dolly Series Masterlist

My main masterlist

…Two doors down

They're laughing and drinkin', and having a party

Two doors down

They're not aware that I'm around   

Cause here I am

Crying my heart out, feelin' sorry while

They're having a party just two doors down…      

      

It’s dumb, you’re feeling so fucking dumb. Here you’re sitting, on your kitchen floor, crying over the end of a relationship that you should never have been in to begin with. You could, now in hindsight, see that your relationship with Lance had been shit. He had not treated you well, he never put in the same effort as you had, yet he was always jealous when you wanted to spend time with your friends. It has almost been two weeks since you had caught him cheating and simultaneously broken up with him. 

You had not been crying over it for many days now, but it had been a tough week at work and it is like everything that had happened just feels too much .  

Maybe that is what is the true reason for your tears, not the sadness from a broken heart, but the sadness of realising that you had wasted so much time and energy on a person who didn’t deserve it. You sit for a little longer trying to force the tears to stop, you don’t want to spend the rest of the night like this.     

You raise your right arm over your head and plant your hand on the kitchen counter, slowly pulling yourself up from the floor. Your head is aching after all the tears and you feel the need for a cigarette. You usually never smoke inside, always retreating to your balcony, but you allow yourself to make an exception, this one time, and settle for just opening your kitchen window and turning on the extractor hood before you lit your cigarette. You can hear the music through your open kitchen window. 

You had totally forgotten about Benny’s party, you had actually told him you would stop by. Well, you had told him you might stop by if you didn’t feel too shitty in the light of your recent breakup. Benny had been very supportive and  had volunteered to go kick Lance’s ass, which you honestly had been tempted to let him.   

Benny lives in the apartment two doors down the hall from you. The two of you have established a pretty good friendship, he is the only person on the floor around your age, most of the other residents in your building are older. You know Benny has wanted you to meet his brother and his friends, who are gonna be there, for some time now. You rub your hand over your damp eyes and take the last drag of your cigarette before putting it out, letting a bit of water rinse over it and throw the bud in the trash.

You go to your bedroom and swing your wardrobe doors open with a little more force than needed, looking over your clothing options. You pull out a couple of items before your eyes land on a bordeaux red slip dress that goes to your midthigh. You change out of your sweatpants to put on a pair of nylon tights. You fix your hair and apply a little makeup, trying to hide your tear-stained face as good as you can before grabbing a thin black cardigan. You refuse to keep spending your Saturday night sitting on your kitchen floor in self-pity.   

…I think I'll dry these useless tears

And get myself together

I think I'll wonder down the hall

And have a look around

'Cause I can't stay inside

This lonely room and cry forever

I think I really rather join 'em

Two doors down, yeah…

You take a deep breath before knocking on the door to Benny’s apartment. A few seconds go by before the door swings open. 

“You came!” A very happy Ben has opened the door, clearly at least a couple of beers into the night already. 

“I’m so glad you’re here!” He throws his arms around you, pulling you into a bone-crushing bear hug. “You feeling okay?” He asks, much quieter, as he lets you go. 

You nod, offering him a weak smile. You don’t want to admit to have been crying less than 30 minutes ago. He smiles back at you understandingly. 

“Let’s get you a drink!” He declares leading you through the crowded apartment to the kitchen. “I have someone I would like you to meet, also I need to prove to my brother that I don’t live in a retirement community.” He sighs at the last past, it must be something he has been teased with. 

Three men are standing by the kitchen counter, a blonde man that you just know must be Will, the resembling to Benny is clear. You are less sure about the two other men, they must be friends of Will. One man with a charming crooked smile, a few silver strands mixed with dark curls. A slightly taller man in a black hat, who is fidgeting with the beer bottle in his hand, not looking as comfortable as his companions.              

“So, this is my brother William and his friends.”

Guys, this is my good friend and neighbour.” Benny exclaim, the men turning to look at you. 

“Can you fix her a drink while I go fix up the table? And be nice!” He says the last part as he gives the curly-haired man a stern look.        

“Hey! Santiago, but I can just be Santi to you.” The man with the curls tells you as he shakes your hand with a wink. Oh, he’s a flirt.  

You tell them your name and shake Will's hand before facing the last man. 

“I’m Frankie. Well, I’m Francisco, but people call me Frankie.” He is not coming off nearly as smoothly as Santi, but you can’t help but smile at him.   

You stand there a little awkward for a moment, but the conversation is soon picking up and you actually have a pretty good time. The guys are both nice and funny, not that you would expect anything else from the brother and friends of Benny.    

You talk for a while, sipping on the greyhound Santi had made you.    

“Ey, beer pong tournament! Are you guys playing?” Benny, who has come back in the kitchen, yells excitedly, getting two six packs from the fridge.  

Santi is quick to express his excitement  

Your stomach drops at the thought of having to chase after a ping pong ball at a party full of strangers. It sounds like your worst nightmare. 

“I think I’ll skip.” You declare.     

 Santi claps his hand on Frankies back. “Ya’ gonna play, Fish?”

Fish..?

Frankie doesn't look like he wants to play, his expression a stark contrast to Santi’s. 

“Nah, I think I’ll sit this one out.” Frankie croaks.  

“Suite yourself.” Santi shrugs. “You gonna partner up with me then, Benny boy?”

And by that, you are left alone in the kitchen with Frankie.

“Uhm, I think I’ll go for a smoke.” You mumble, fumbling with the clasp on your little handbag to get your lighter and your pack of cigarettes.

“Do you maybe wanna come and keep me company?” You look up at Frankie.   

He was the quietest when you had spoken with him and the others, but you like his vibe and you have to admit that he is very easy on the eyes. Brown hair is sticking out from the black baseball hat he is wearing, a breathtaking smile, broad shoulders and a pair of warm brown eyes.     

Frankie smiles and gives you a nod, emptying his beer before following you out on the balcony. You wrap your cardigan a little tighter around your torso as you’re hit by the cool night air. You lean your left side up against the brick wall, Frankie mirrors you leaning his right side against the wall so you’re facing each other.  

“Want one?” You ask before putting the cigarette between your lips. He accepts your offer with a small smile and you hand him your lighter after litting your own cigarette.      

“So… Fish? ” You ask as you breathe out a cloud of smoke, tilting your head slightly, not wanting to blow it directly into his face.  

“The guys and I.” He tilts his head at the balcony door. “We’re old military buddies.” He shrugs. “My code name was Catfish, guess things like that just stick” He shakes his head with a smile and you can’t stop yourself from smiling too. It makes sense, Benny had told you his brother had served.   

“Well, Fish, tell me more about yourself.” You prompt with a smile. And he does. 

What should have been a five-minute smoke turns into a long conversation where the two of you take turns telling each other about yourself. 

…'Cause here I am

No longer cryin' an' feelin' sorry

We're having a party just two doors down…

Almost an hour has gone by and the two of you have forgotten the party completely, the only reminder is the music coming from inside the apartment. His baritone voice and warm eyes have captivated you and as the sound of his warm bubbly laugh hits your ears something warm blooms in your chest. 

You like him more and more the more you get to know him. You probably shouldn’t let yourself feel like this so quickly after your breakup, but you really can’t stop the warm yearning feeling his smile is creating in your heart.      

…I can't believe I'm standin' here

Dry-eyed, all smiles and talkin'

Making conversation with the new love I have found

I ask him if he's like to be alone and we start walkin'

Down the hall to my place waitin' two doors down, yeah…

The conversation has landed on movies.

“Okay, it doesn’t have to be your favourite, but what movie have you rewatched the most?” You ask with a smile.

“Honestly… Probably Winnie the Pooh.” He shakes his head with a shrug and smile.  

“ Winnie the Pooh?! ” You giggle.   

“Yeah…” Frankie clears his throat, looking nervous all of a sudden. “I have a little girl, so…”

“Oh, you do?” You say with a smile, trying to not sound surprised. Him having a kid doesn't scare you away and something about him being a girl-dad makes perfect sense to you. There is a little voice of worry in the back of your head though, not from him being a dad, but Frankie being a father means that there is a mother. He is not wearing a ring and nothing about your conversation has implied that he is married or in a relationship. But you had just caught Lance cheating. It would break your heart if you were flirting with another woman’s man right now.

“Yeah, Solana, she is three.” He continues. “Her mother and I got divorced when she was still a baby. She stays with me every other weekend.”  

The worry you felt disappears completely and you can’t help but give him a wide smile. 

“Can I see a picture?” You ask, wanting him to know that you don’t have anything against him having a child.    

A little girl with big chestnut-brown eyes and fluffy brown curls is smiling at the camera.     

“Oh, she’s so cute.” You coo, and you mean it, she is absolutely adorable. 

“Looks like her daddy.” You giggle, the resemblance is uncanny.  

“I guess she does.” He sighs at the phone screen. “Poor baby.” He jokes, but you feel that there is something more to his words.      

You look up at him with a frown. “I don’t think it is a bad thing.” You murmur. 

You don’t want to overstep, but you hate the idea of him thinking he isn’t good enough. 

“I know I’ve just met you Frankie, but I think she is pretty lucky to have you as her father.”

“You do?” He asks, voice low and soft.

“Yeah, I do.” You whisper, not noticing that you have taken a step closer towards him.  

He shifts a little, leaning his body slightly towards you. He looks deeply into your eyes and you think your heart skips a beat. He gently cups your cheek, and you lean into his touch. Your pulse quickens from the feeling of his warm skin on you.

And then you’re kissing him. 

…Two doors down

They're laughing and drinkin', and having a party

Two doors down

We're not aware that they're around …

His lips are soft, tasting of the beer he’s been drinking, with a slight ashy aftertaste from the smoke. Your own lips probably taste the same. You completely melt into his touch, finding a rhythm of gentle movements, getting familiar with the shape of him and you love it.

You open your mouth a little wider, slightly tilting your head to the side. Giving Frankie space to deepen the kiss and he does. He removes his hat to not poke you with the visor. 

Your hand comes up to grab the now-exposed curls at the back of his head, your other hand is buried in the fabric of his shirt. 

You moan softly into the kiss as Frankie slips his tongue deeper into your mouth. Your grip on his hair tightens, and you can feel the fire in your lower stomach enlight. 

You finally break the kiss both gasping for air. His thumb gently stroking your cheek as he looks down at you with those deep warm eyes of his.    

“You know, uhm…” You pant out, suddenly feeling very nervous. “I live just down the hall if you… You know… Want to be alone.”  

“Yeah, I… I would like that.” He nods. 

     

…'Cause here I am

Feelin' everything but sorry

We're having our own party two doors down …

You roam around your bag to get the key to your apartment. You had tried to ignore the look Benny had given you when you told him that you left. The others had been too engulfed in their game to notice that you and Frankie had been staying out on the balcony all night, but you leaving with Frankie gained their attention. Santi had given Frankie a thumbs up as you left which had made Frankie blush severely. 

You finally get the key, fumbling with the lock before you can get the door open and let Frankie into your home.     

Frankie closes the distance between you as soon as the door has closed behind you. You place a hand in his hair, grabbing the soft curls, softly pressing him closer, and deepening the kiss.

You stumble through your apartment until you reach your coach where the two of you collapse, you on top of Frankie. 

His warm tongue slipping between your kiss-swollen lips. You really like him and you want more, you really do, but you are not sure if it is a good idea. You might have just come out of a relationship, but It’s been a long time since you have felt like this with anyone and you’re afraid of ruining it. He breaks the kiss before you can worry any further. 

“Sorry, I…” He whispers, slowly pulling away, looking deeply into your eyes. “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just, I think I would like to get to know you better. If that is what you want too, of course." He looks nervous. “Maybe I could take you out on a date?” 

“I would like to get to know you better, Francisco. And I would love to go on a date with you.” You tell him softly.

He smiles wide with relief and his lips are back on yours. The kiss is so sweet it makes your chest feel warm and content. Maybe this really can be the start of something beautiful.

[kyriethesquishysquid]

Betrayal Never Felt So Good (König/Fem!Reader) Chapter 4

You can find Chapter 1 here, Chapter 2 here, Chapter 3 here, Chapter 5 here, and Chapter 6 here!

Word count: ~6

Rating: Mature

A/N: A bit of a filler chapter but it's adding pertinent info to the story, I promise! Some use of Y/N and Y/L/N. Some smut, feels, and story progression! Reader is still morally grey and morally questionable; a delulu girly, if you will. Reader has trauma that will be expanded upon later. Continued COD and military inaccuracies galore. Brief mentions of our beloved 141!

TW: Smut! Mutual masturbation, exhibitionism/voyeurism, dom/sub tones. Reader reflects a little on her trauma from Daniel. Reader tries to trust people and make new friends! Pet names (in English and German), bad German translations bc I’m STILL a lame monolingual American, and STILL no beta because we die like jackass Graves.

Crappy Translations:

Maus - Mouse

Mein schatz - My darling

Meine leibling - My love

Süßes mädchen- Sweet girl

Scheiße - Shit

Ja, das ist ein gutes Mädchen. Lass mich dich hören - Ja, that’s a good girl. Let me hear you.

Da ist mein wunderschöner Liebling - There is my beautiful love.

You were gonna be sick. You just knew it. Commander Graves’ stare was too much to handle, and yet you knew you had no other choice. The only other option was to give in, condemn both yourself and König to prison or death with the truth, and you refused to do that. You just had to trust in König’s plan, no matter how questionable.

“I’m sure, sir,” you replied, trying to keep your voice from shaking, “The last I saw was him going back into the bar.”

Graves’ tapped his pen on the table, his expression as unreadable as ever, before sitting up in his chair to lean over the desk. His intensity was overwhelming, making your heartbeat loud enough you were almost sure he could hear it too.

“Ya don’t have to be scared here, Y/N. This ain’t an interrogation. I’m just tryin’ ta get the facts about Carter before we call it.”

For the first time since that night, guilt licked the insides of your belly. Deserter. First, you’d allowed König to kill him and hide the body, and now you were willing to let his name be dragged through the mud, to allow his family to hear the worst about him when he wasn’t even alive to fight for himself. Fuck, but the lengths you would go through to protect König, just as he’d been protecting you for the better part of a year. It was honestly terrifying and made you question things about yourself that you’d never thought of before. Were you really as good of a person as you thought you were, as you tried to be, if you were willing to do all of this? Probably not.

“I understand, sir, I just kind of feel like I’ve been called into the principal’s office at school,” you joked quietly.

That brought a little smile to his face. Man, if he weren’t such a toxic fucker, he’d be pretty attractive. Too bad he was a righteous prick.

“That’s fair. Well, thank you for your time, Y/L/N. If I could just get you to sign this document here statin’ that you stand by your statement as the truth and allow for it to be used as necessary for legalities,” he sighed, pushing the paper and pen in your direction.

With a deep breath, you snagged up the pen and signed your name with a flourish. There it was, your deceit finalized in ink for all to see. It was to protect König, not for yourself, you kept repeating in your mind. It’s all for König. Anything for König.

“Am I good to go then, sir?” you asked with a forced smile.

“Actually, I have one more thing for you,” Graves replied, lifting a finger as he opened his desk drawer, “These… are papers of all the tasks I need you to go over with your trainer. After the last… episode, it’s become abundantly clear that you’re in dire need of a refresher course on the basics. Can’t have our best medic dying because she doesn’t know how to protect herself, hmm?”

You had to bite your tongue from giving a sassy reply and instead took the papers with a nod.

Looking over the pages, you asked curiously, “Who’s my trainer?”

“You’ll be workin’ with Private Declan every day, 1700 to 1900 after your normal shift until he feels you are well-equipped for future missions,” he explained, “Not havin’ ya do anythin’ too crazy so it shouldn’t take too long to complete, probably two weeks, give or take.”

Declan. The name sounded familiar. Hopefully he wasn’t one of Daniel’s close friends or things would end up real awkward real quick.

“Got it.”

“You’re dismissed,” Graves commented as he leaned back in his seat.

You couldn’t get back to your room fast enough, eager to be sheltered safe away from Graves’ intimidating stare. As soon as you were in your room, you dug your phone out and sent a quick text to König.

‘Hey love, you free to talk?’

You knew there was a chance he’d be busy or even have possibly been sent out on a mission since this morning, but it didn’t hurt to check. While you waited for his reply, you got changed from your scrubs into a comfortable pair of pajamas. You were debating on if you wanted to go through your rigorous skincare routine or just pass out when your phone started ringing.

Eagerly launching yourself onto the mattress, you quickly slid the green button when you saw König’s name pop up on the screen.

“Hi!” you said, a little too excitedly.

God, way to sound like a loser, Y/N. Could you be more embarrassing?

“Hello, Süßes mädchen.”

Fuck, just hearing his voice over the phone was enough to make your heart flutter. Chewing on your lower lip, you asked him about his day, wanting to start the call on a good note before you told him about Graves’ little meeting. He told you about some of the newest recruits, and how Horangi was talking to a civilian and it was more serious than his past conquests. He sounded like a proud older brother when he talked about Horangi and it was honestly adorable. A big grin was fixed on your face as you listened to his highs and lows, enjoying the shifts in his tone as he rambled for quite some time. It was nice, you realized, having someone to just talk to, even if it wasn’t in person.

“Ah, but enough about my day, how was your, meine liebling?” he asked.

“I enjoy hearing about what you’ve been up to,” you assured him warmly, “You know I love hearing you talk, but uh, my day was good. Got a little rocky at the end.”

“What happened?”

You could hear the instant change in his voice, protective König coming off the sidelines and ready to attack. It made you chuckle.

“Nothing that bad in the long run. Uh, Graves’ finally talked to me about Daniel. Had to sign a legal document backing up my statement. So far it seems everything is going well, but he also decided I need to redo training so I can protect myself better,” you explained.

He let out a little hum before sighing, “I have to agree with him there, maus. As much as I’d rather just be there to protect you, your safety is important.”

Cheeks flushing, you agree quietly. Of course, you’d rather have your big Austrian lover there as your guard but, unfortunately, that was just the way the world was for now. You snuggled farther back into the bed and began telling him about the mysterious case of chlamydia rampaging through the barracks, and all the chaos it was causing. It made you grateful you hadn’t made the choice to sleep with anyone there during the two months you’d not seen König.

“I will never understand the urge some have to fuck anything that moves,” he muttered quietly.

“Me either,” you replied, “Not that I’m innocent by any means. I’m all about people having fun. Hell, I’ve had my fair share of hook-ups, but… at least make sure ya use protection, you know?”

König let out a noise that almost sounded like a growl and you halted your words instantly, concerned by the sudden shift.

“You okay?” you asked tentatively.

“Fine, just don’t like thinking about that,” he sighed darkly, “That others have touched you. They didn’t deserve to have that access to you.”

Before you could stop it, a little giggle escaped, earning a disgruntled huff in reply.

“Don’t worry about it, big guy. If you want, I’ll gladly tell you about how much better you are than anyone I’ve ever been with,” you teased.

There was a soft groan from his side of the line before he retorted, “That doesn't help much.”

You thought about your words carefully, about what might ease that little twinge of jealousy, until finally, it hit. Prey on that possessive nature of his that you loved so much.

Lowering your voice to a seductive whisper, you murmured, “Okay, how about the fact you’re the only man I’ve had sex with without a condom? Also, just remember, love, they may have had me first… but you’re my last.”

Maybe a little stronghanded with the last sentence but you were willing to put your hopes out in the open. Unless something drastic occurred, you couldn’t see not wanting to be with him, and he seemed thoroughly content with you.

“Ah, maus, now that does make it better,” he purred warmly.

Smirking, you replied, “Thought so.”

A familiar warmth coiled low in your belly as you let your thoughts linger on König and just how much better he was than any other lover. It was torture not being allowed to be in his arms. Even without the sexual aspect, you wanted nothing more than to just be in his presence, be allowed to see him, and touch him. Memories of your last night together and his beautiful face created a dangerous combination between your thighs.

“You’re quiet, what’s going on in that pretty head, hmm?” he asked suddenly.

“Ah, um… taxes?” you squeaked out.

You could feel the heat returning to your cheeks as he laughed and you realized you’d been caught daydreaming about him. How were you still so easily flustered by that man when you’d fucked him seven ways from Sunday on multiple occasions now?

“Taxes huh? Must be pretty entertaining if it’s taking your attention off of me,” he teased.

Pursing your lips, you quickly retorted, “Nothing could take my attention off of you, König. You’re practically a permanent fixture in my head now.”

There was a little rumble and you barely made out his quiet “Good” before there was a rustling on his end. Now it was his turn to be oddly quiet.

“What are you doing over there?” you asked curiously.

The deep noise he let out made your heart thump harder.

“Taxes.”

His breathless tone scrambled your brain and it took a moment to comprehend what he meant but once it hit, you felt the niggle of lust in your core ramp up quickly. Clenching your thighs together, you let out a sigh at the slight relief.

“Hmm, do you need help with those taxes?” you mused gently.

His response was a decidedly determined, “Yes!”

“Video chat?”

The line went dead in the next instant, startling and confusing you until you saw the screen light up with the video call request. You could tell your face was flushed dark in the little square that showed your image in the top right and it only made your embarrassment grow.

“Da ist mein wunderschöner, Liebling.”

“Well hello there, handsome” you murmured, unable to stop the grin spreading across your lips.

To your surprise, König was maskless and it made your heart do a little happy dance. He really was one of the most stunning people you’d ever seen. It was a shame he hid it all the time but you also understood his need for privacy with his anxiety and for secrecy.

“You look absolutely beautiful, mein schatz,” he purred quietly.

Warmth quickly filled your cheeks again, his complement reminding you that you were in pajamas with your hair unstyled and only the remnants of the day's makeup on your face. Thankfully, your pajamas weren’t too incredibly bad; a dark grey tanktop with lace along the neckline and matching shorts. It could have been way worse but you also wished you’d had the chance to clean up before he’d seen you.

“Says the male model,” you replied cheekily, “So, wanna show me these taxes I have to help with?”

He let out a snort but suddenly the camera was facing down his body. Your sharp gasp filled the air as he groaned softly. He was already fully hard and leaking, all flushed and beautiful and demanding. Even his massive hand couldn’t cover it completely. God damn.

“I’ve been hard since the moment I heard your voice,” he rumbled softly, “You drive me crazy.”

You watched in awe as he began to stroke his length, throaty little noises filtering through the phone’s speaker like a siren’s song. Setting the phone precariously on your breasts, you quickly shoved your shorts down your legs and kicked them off the end of the bed before picking it back up.

“Need to see you, maus,” he demanded huskily, “Show me what is mine.”

If it were possible, you would have died right then and there from his words.

“Just so you know, I’ve never really done this whole video sex thing before,” you admitted meekly, suddenly nervous by the thought of showing off over the camera.

“And you think I have?” he snickered, “You enjoy seeing me, ja?”

“Of course!”

“Then let me see you too. You know just how much I love your body,” he cajoled sweetly, “Or do I have to punish you for disobedience when I see you next, hmm?”

“No sir!” you gasped.

With a shaky sigh, you switched to the back camera and moved the phone down, ensuring you could still see him at the same time. Your fingers twitched eagerly against your thigh as he let out a low moan.

“Gutes mädchen, now, show me how you tease yourself.”

Excitement brewed to life under the prospect of being controlled from afar and you quickly moved to follow his orders. Your eyes fluttered shut uncontrollably as you traced your fingertips up and down your slit, nearly jumping at the light sensation when goosebumps crawled across your skin. This continued on for only a minute or two before he gave in and told you to slide a finger into your cunt. An uncontrollable whimper escaped as you felt your warm walls clamp down around the digit.

Forcing your eyes open once again, you intentionally began to match your thrusts to the pace of his hand. It was nothing nearly as good as the real thing, but it was close enough and you couldn’t deny the things this interaction was making you feel.

“Gut, gut, that’s it. Show me how wet you are.”

It took a moment to get the angle right but the instant you caught the glistening sheen across your lips and fingers, he halted his hand with a broken groan.

“I would give anything to have my face buried in that pretty little cunt right now,” he growled, “Go on, maus, show me how you make yourself feel good.”

“O-Okay,” you breathed softly.

The awkwardness of touching yourself with an audience was beginning to fade away, lost to pleasure and lust as you watched him. When you finally sunk two fingers into your hole and hooked them up against your g-spot, you nearly saw stars, a weak whimper falling from your lips.

“Ja, das ist ein gutes Mädchen. Lass mich dich hören,” König groaned, “Faster, schatz, keep up with me.”

Eager to obey, you swiftly withdrew your fingers and used the slick to rub your nub. With a finger on either side, you squeezed and rubbed and teased until your legs were shaking with need. Ecstasy swirled rampantly in your belly, growing tighter and tighter with each pass over your clit. It was hard to keep your eyes open but you refused to miss even a second of him. As you got closer and your little noises became harder to control, you could see the chain reaction it had on him, his hips bucking up into each movement as precum spilled over his fist. Oh, and his sounds, the quick smacking and heavy breathing felt like they were connected directly to your core.

“K-König, I’m close,” you warned him weakly.

“Scheiße, heilige scheiße,” he snarled, thighs going tense, “Ja, okay, hold it just a bit longer.”

A debauched whine filled the air and your brows furrowed in frustration. You’d never been good at delaying your climax, too focused on instant gratification, but there was no denying the way his command made your belly twist eagerly. Jesus, what was this man doing to you?

“I know, but I want you to come with me,” he grunted.

The heat was becoming too intense so you instinctively slowed your fingers down to ease the burn, only for him to snap at you to keep going.

“B-But I- please König,” you whimpered needily, “König, bitte, bitte, I-”

The reaction to his native language was immediate, body jolting so hard you nearly expected him to fall off his bed.

“I’m gonna count back from three. At one, I want you to let go, leibling, can you do that for me?” he panted out through moans.

With a little curse, you whined, “Yes, please just- Yes!”

“Drei…”

Fuck, he was doing it in German.

“Zwei…”

He fucking knew what that did to you.

“Eins… Now, now, Kleines!”

A cry of his name escaped in a breathless scream as your body nearly collapsed in on itself at his command, thighs shutting tight around your hand as rutted frantically into your hand. The pleasure coursing through your veins felt like it would drown you but it only got better when he followed suit. You watched in disbelief as ropes of cum shot out and covered his belly and hand, enamored by the way his cock twitched and throbbed as he squeezed out every last drop. Your name heavy on his lips brought that familiar heat back to your face.

“God, fuck,” you whined, jerking your hand away as the sensations became too strong.

A comfortable silence fell over you, only heavy pants breaking the quiet, until you felt rejuvenated enough to roll over and groan.

“Leibling?”

Picking up the phone, you turned it back to the front-facing camera and flashed him a little smile. His eyes were heavy and cheeks still flushed, lips quirked into a smirk as he ran a hand through his hair. How the fuck were you supposed to go the next four months without him?

“I have an embarrassing question,” you murmured after a moment.

He quirked a brow but replied, “Of course, maus, what is it?”

“Would- Would you be okay staying on call with me?” you asked before hastily adding, “Just til I fall asleep! I don’t wanna keep you too late.”

König’s expression turned into something soft.

“Of course but I’ll do better. We’ll stay on all night. Not as good as having you here but it’s better than being without you completely.”

…

“Again!”

Frustration broke through your lips in the form of an annoyed grunt as you punched the hand targets again; right, left, right. You narrowly missed getting hit in the face by the foam target when he swung it at you again. Unfortunately, between your exhaustion and poor balance, you collapsed to the floor with a yelp.

Max let out a honking laugh and you managed to open your eyes just enough to see him bent over, red-faced from laughter. What a jerk.

“Not funny,” you bit out coolly.

“On the contrary, I find it quite funny,” he retorted cheekily, “But, maybe this is a sign we need a break, aye?”

Lifting an eyebrow, you snapped back, “Ya think?! We’ve only been at this for like two hours!”

He shrugged his burly shoulders before settling down onto the ground next to you, handing over your water bottle as he drank from his own. It was a comfortable silence despite your panting, something you were grateful for. It was ironic, considering Max was filling in for Declan who was transferred out after some sketchy shit came up in his files. You couldn’t say you were upset by the change though. Max was the first soldier you’d been able to relatively get along with in months. There was something about his dry humor and easy-going nature that made him likable.

“Tomorrow it’ll be training at the range again. Wanna test you on more long-range options.”

You let your displeasure at the idea be known with the obnoxious long groan you released.

“I’m shit with long range! Just let me focus on getting better at what I’m good at,” you begged, turning to give him your best puppy dog eyes.

He simply stared you down with all the energy of a disappointed father.

“You won’t get good at it if you don’t practice.”

“… And?! I have gifted kid burnout syndrome,” you sighed, “All I want to do is what I’m already good at.”

If looks could kill, you were sure you’d be dead where you lay on the floor. You tossed him back an equally serious glare but within moments you both broke down into laughter.

“Shit, dude, you could kill with those eyes,” Max said, tossing his now-empty bottle aside, “What do ya say? Got ‘nother round in you or we packin’ it up?”

You took inventory of all your sore muscles and bruises before giving a little shrug.

“I’d prefer being able to walk at work tomorrow,” you retorted.

“Rest it is then,” he said as he got to his feet with a long groan.

Following suit, you snagged up your grey hoodie and released your hair from its messy ponytail, double-checking that you still had your phone before heading to the door.

“Hey, wait up a sec!” Max called before the door closed behind you.

You quickly caught it with your foot, trying to ignore the pain of the heavy door nearly crushing your littlest toe.

“Yeeess?”

“A couple of the guys and I are goin’ out to Seven’s tonight, that one bar on Cedar, if you wanna join us?” he asked.

Bile rose in your throat instantaneously as the memories of your last bar experience filled your thoughts- Daniel, the date rape drug, how König killed him in cold blood. Max was nice, respectful even; he hadn’t done anything yet that would make you suspect that he had more than a friendly interest in you, but after Daniel… any man besides König was a terrifying unknown. Apparently, the hesitation was clear on your face because he slapped a heavy hand down on your shoulder, drawing you out of your thoughts.

“No pressure, Y/L/N,” he assured you with a gentle squeeze, “It’d be nice to hang with you without kickin’ your ass though.”

That brought a small smile to your lips. Damn him for being a nice person.

“I appreciate that but, uh, I don’t know many people here that well and-”

“Hey, that’s okay! This’ll be a good chance ta get ta know everyone, and, hey, I’ll be there so you’ll know someone,” he said.

Swallowing hard, you tried to think of a polite way to turn him down but it was impossible with how kind he had been this past week. When your lips parted finally to say no, he lifted up a hand, silencing you instantly.

“If this is about bein’ with a bunch of guys alone, I swear that I’ll protect ya,” he assured you gently, “My mum would have my ass if she knew I didn’t protect a lady, and that’s not even countin’ what’ll happen when Graves gets ahold of me.”

He was making this fucking hard, way harder than it should be. While you were used to being alone, there was no denying how painful it got at times. Especially on the nights when you couldn’t call König and talk to him. Having actual friends might be a nice change of pace.

“You swear?” you asked weakly.

He made an ‘X’ across his heart and said, “Solemnly swear.”

Letting out a sigh, you shifted your jacket farther up your arm before giving him a single nod.

“The instant I don’t feel safe, we’re out, got it?”

“Absolutely! And if anyone gives you trouble, just point me in their direction and they won’t even be a problem. Just consider me your guard dog for the night, yea?”

After agreeing to meet up outside the entrance gates, you scurried back to your room with your thoughts going a million miles an hour. Could you really trust Max? What would happen if you got separated? Would the other soldiers behave? Anxiety whirled through your brain like a tornado, creating more chaos than usual, until you were dressed and checking your reflection. You knew better than to dress in anything too eye-catching this time, settling for a simple black long-sleeved shirt and loose jeans with your work tennis shoes. Even with Max around, shit could happen.

You pulled your hair up into a tidy bun before dragging out your phone and shooting a text to König. He was gone on a mission and didn’t have the ability to answer calls on a whim, but you wanted to keep him updated on your whereabouts… just in case.

‘Hey love! I just wanted to let you know I’m going out to the local bar with some of the guys. My trainer Max, the one I told you about the other day, invited me. He promises he’s going to be my guard dog so I should be safe but I am bringing my pepper spray and self-defense keys too just so you know. No need to worry about me! I’ll text you again once I’m home safe. XO’

Once the text showed as delivered, you turned your ringer all the way up and slid it into your pocket, taking a deep breath for courage before braving the outside. Hopefully, this would be a turning point, a way for you to make friends and have people you could trust again. You shut and locked your door behind you, double-checking it out of cautiousness, then trekked across the base to the meeting point.

There had to be at least twelve to fifteen people gathered outside of the gates when you arrived. Thankfully, there wasn’t a single face you recognized from Daniel’s friend group in the little mass and you let out a relieved sigh before sliding up to Max’s side.

“Hey there! Glad ta see ya made it. Ready to go boys?” Max asked everyone.

A few affirmatives were thrown around before everyone split into separate groups, piling into three different cars. The two that split off with you and Max were chivalrous enough to insist you take the front seat and quickly started up a conversation about Yu-Gi-Oh of all things. Max, surprisingly, joined right in and even tried to involve you in the conversation a few times. It was sweet. By the time you were pulling up at the curb by the bar, somehow the topic had changed to poker and bets on who at the company would have the best poker face.

“I swear, Commander Graves would beat everyone,” you shot back, closing the car door behind you, “Have you been on the wrong side of his wrath yet?!”

“Nah, see, because scary doesn’t equate to a good liar,” Max retorted, “But, if we’re counting outside groups we’ve teamed with, you should see Captain Price. That man has nerves of steel. There’s no way to figure out when he’s bluffing!”

“Oh shit, yeah, haven’t thought about him in a while,” Luke, the younger of the trio shouted.

The chaotic conversation was overpowered by the sound of music, pool tables, and laughter when Max held the door open for you. You quickly slid by and waited right inside, unwilling to chance going more than a few steps away from them.

“Sooo, table first or drinks?” Trevor asked, rocking back and forth on his heels as he looked around the busy bar.

“Drinks. It’s gonna take a hot minute to get anything with that crowd,” Luke replied.

Falling in step beside them, you kept as close to Max as possible, doing your best to ignore the anxiety creeping up in your throat as you tried to decide on a drink. You didn’t want to be a wet blanket but you also weren’t sure about allowing yourself to become inebriated either. Plus with the drugs last time, the idea of alcohol you didn’t pour from the bottle yourself was unappealing. Thankfully, you had a good amount of time to think about it. Luke was correct in his assessment of the crowd. It took almost twenty minutes just to flag the bartender down and order your drinks.

“What’cha gettin’?” Max asked loudly.

You could only shrug in response. Max was nothing but attentive and instantly leaned down to your ear.

“Guard dog, remember? You don’t have to drink but if you do, I’ve got your back!” he reassured you.

“What’s it gonna be, doll?” the young woman across the counter asked blandly.

Shooting him a look that told him exactly how much trust you were putting into him, you smiled timidly at Max then leaned closer to the bartender.

“Just a lemon drop shot and a water please!”

With that, she was gone, and the guys picked back up on their previous discussion concerning the Captain Price they had mentioned, and some guys named Soap, Gaz, and Ghost. Just what the fuck kind of people had those names? Surely that had to be callsigns… right? 'Ghost' fucked with your mind the most. You could only imagine what he had done to earn that name. But Soap? Soap made you giggle. Did anyone take a soldier with that name seriously? You didn’t think you would if you met him.

A few minutes later, you all had your drinks and were headed to a table out on the back patio. It was perfectly cool outside, just a slight chilly breeze blustering about and filling the air with that familiar autumn scent. It was finally starting to feel like October. You sat beside Max and twirled your shot glass in circles, letting your gaze trail over all the different groups outside in the meantime. By twos and threes, the rest of the original clan joined the nearby tables until you were nestled comfortably between them all. You tried to keep up with the conversation but moreso just enjoyed watching them. It was a big group but they all talked together seamlessly. There was no denying the comradery between them and it created a warm, welcoming, feeling in your chest.

Max nudged your arm, pulling your gaze up to him, and you found him staring down at you with one brow lifted.

“You’re okay, right?” he asked.

Flashing him an easy smile, you nodded and replied, “Yeah, I actually am. Hey, uh, thanks for inviting me out.”

He rolled his eyes and waved you off with a scoff, before muttering, “Stop actin’ like it was some act of charity. You may not realize it, but you’re a joy to be around… well, when you’re not bein’ a pain in my ass and tryin’ to shoot me in the foot.”

Eyes widening in disbelief, you backhanded his arm gently.

“That was one time! And it was an accident!” you squeaked, cheeks burning hot.

“Yeah, one time too many,” he snickered back, taking a swig of his beer.

Muttering under your breath about the lack of trust and loyalty he had, you swallowed back the last of your anxiety and finally took the shot in front of you, which was surprisingly delicious.

“If ya need to get up and go anywhere, let me know, I’ll go with ya,” he added after a moment, “I’m on duty til I get ya back to your room.”

You gave him a thankful nod and nursed your water, tuning back into the conversation around you when Luke yelled at Max to defend him.

“What’d I miss?”

“Tell them I’m not actually bad at Mario Kart!” Luke whined, “I lost to Dave once and now he swears he’s better than me at it.”

Yu-Gi-Oh? Mario Kart? How in the fuck were these goofballs the same intimidating soldiers you saw around the barracks?

When Max actually spoke up for Luke, it created a mass of chaos and debates on who was actually better and led to bets for future games. Maybe you’d be lucky enough to join them when they did. It’d been some time since you’d played on more than your Nintendo Switch.

…

“So you’re coming out next time too, right?” Max asked, leaning up against the wall by your door.

“I guess,” you replied with a shrug, “If you guys want me to?”

He narrowed his eyes and bit out, “Noooo. I was asking because I was hoping you’d stay far far away on your lonesome.”

You nudged his ribs gently, trying to quiet your laughter in hopes of not disturbing any of the sleeping soldiers in nearby rooms.

“Shut up. I’m just not used to it is all,” you sighed.

“Well, get used to it, brat. I’m officially naming myself your guard dog older brother,” he retorted, “Now, go get some sleep. Don’t need you dead on your feet at training tomorrow.”

At the reminder of his plans to torture you with sniper training, you deflated against your door with a whine.

“Are you serious?!”

He smirked, patting your shoulder in mock sympathy, before rising to his full height once more.

“Gotta do it, kid. Better to get it done now than have Graves’ on our asses about slacking.”

You couldn’t find fault in his logic but that didn’t mean you liked it any more than you had before. Shooting him an evil glower, you popped your door open and stepped in.

“Night, brat!”

“Yeah, yeah, good night,” you huffed as you slammed the door shut.

Without even bothering to change, you flopped down into your bed and unlocked your phone, checking your notifications. There were a few updates from your social media but the only thing you cared to see were the texts from König.

‘Have fun and be safe. Please make sure you text me once you get home.’ at nine.

‘Leibling? Are you home yet?’ at ten thirty.

‘If I don’t hear from you by 12, I’m not responsible for my actions.’ at eleven thirty.

It was eleven-fifty now. Shit! You weren’t sure what he could do from so far away but you didn’t want to test his capabilities, nor did you want to worry him further. Pulling up his number, you hit call and waited nervously.

“Scheiße! Ich habe mir Sorgen gemacht, Liebling!”

His voice was tense and you instantly felt wilted, guilt filling your chest heavily.

“I’m so sorry, love. I had my ringer on but I didn’t hear any of the texts over the music,” you apologized quickly, “I didn’t mean to worry you, I promise!”

“It’s fine. I’m just glad to hear you safe,” he sighed, “Did you have a good time?”

Lips quirking into a little smile, you replied, “Yeah, it was nice. Would have been better with you there though. Oh, and I think Max has adopted me as his little sister.”

“Little sister, hmm?”

“Yup! He stood guard for me all night. Didn’t let a single person approach me and waited outside the bathroom for me and everything. I don’t know how, but I think he has an idea that something happened in the past,” you explained, “That or he’s just a really good guard dog.”

“That better be all he is,” you heard him grumble softly.

“Calm down, big guy,” you reassured him gently, “Or do I need to remind you why you’re my one and only?”

That got a reaction. The grunt of your name sent your hair on end and pulled a sly smirk to your lips. Yeah, you’d be glad to take the time to show him that you still belonged only to him.

[notiddygxthgf]

10. Early Breakfast

★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader

★ ❝ I didn't know Hayakawa Captain had a girlfriend. ❞

★ c.w.: smut. more (poorly timed) confessions. denji is his own warning. (more content warnings and tags)

★ a/n: Hi again pookie dooks ;)). Okay so. I have been waiting SO LONG to post this chapter. We're nearing the end of the ones I had pre-written, and as a result updates may come a little slower, but I'll try to keep up! (Just be patient w me, ur girl is #struggling rn w uni). You're gonna love this chapter (until you dont). not saying nothing though. ENJOY LOVELIES! muah! please leave many many comments (spam me idgaf) i need smth to look forward to reading and i ALWAYS go thru yall's comments w the dorkiest smile. ily. (no beta, we die like... yeah.)

★ w.c: .7.5k

shameless ; chapter index

AKI'S BED WAS WARM. Warm enough that you seemed to be able to forget where you were — or, rather, where you should have been. You had entire hotel suite waiting for you, yet it seemed as if you had wasted the first five days of your stay in Tokyo entangled with him. Two days had passed between your bathroom debacle and now, and you were back again right where it all had started.

You weren't entirely sure you minded it.

Aki wrapped his long, calloused fingers around your wrist, holding your bloody finger away from his face. You had cut your thumb open on the page of a magazine while the two of you were relaxing on his mattress — distantly, a song from a band you didn't know played on his CD player (The tonedeafs, or something like that).

"I want you to," You laughed, reaching your hand towards his face again. "I dared you to. I'm not a germaphobe, I don't care."

Aki furrowed his brows, holding your wrist away from his face once more, "You should care. It could get infected, or worse."

Always so serious.

You pouted, "Says who?"

"Me, everyone," Aki trailed off — playfully, of course, like he was lost in thought, "Any medical professional."

You laughed, flopping back onto the bed where you had been moments earlier before this had started, laying perpendicular to him with your back strewn over his stomach. Makima had given him the day off and you, not knowing what else could have been a better way to help him learn how to relax a little, decided to call out of work as well. 

"Pussy," You teased him, "What kind of Devil Hunter gets squeamish around blood?"

"I'm not squeamish, I'm just taking your health into consideration," He remarked (again, with a playful lilt to his words, despite his serious tone). "And, besides — what if someone overheard this? You calling your superior a pussy, hm? Then what?"

You replied with a witty retort of your own, "And what if they knew their Captain was fucking his subordinates?"

"I think I could get away with one," He teased back. "Not subordinates, plural. Just a subordinate. A married one, at that."

"So there are other subordinates?" You asked him — it was meant to be teasing, but you would be lying if a depraved part of you didn't wonder if you were the only one he was seeing. You wouldn't have a right to be upset if you weren't, granted that you were still very much married to another man.

"No. But that doesn't make you any less of a cougar," He hummed. "Devil Hunters do worse shit than sleeping with their coworkers, I hate to tell you."

"I'm only five years older than you," You huffed. Rolling over to look at him, you added, "We're damned anyway, then. That's what you're saying?"

"Not damned," He replied. Finally setting the book he'd been reading down on the bed beside him, he said, "Blessed. At least, I am."

"You're blessed?" You asked. "I'm a trainwreck, Aki."

"You're my trainwreck, though, aren't you?" He reached down, ruffling your hair with his hand. "I'm blessed because you're the first person to come into my life and give me a reason to keep myself alive."

"I thought you said you wanted to kill the Gun Devil?" You teased.

"I do," He said. "I didn't care if I lived or died before. Now that I have you waiting around for me to come back, I wanna keep coming home."

The slightest frown tugged at the corners of your lips, "That's so sad. You don't have any family?"

"No," He caressed your cheek with the back of his thumb, "The Gun Devil killed them. That's why I said I didn't care if I lived or died. As long as I did it for them, I thought I'd be able to die happy."

"You still feel that way?" You asked.

"Not really. I think I'm starting to have a change of heart," He sighed — chest rising and falling as he did so, "I'm growing fond of my roommates. Between those two shitheads and you, I dunno," A pause, and then he continued, "I'm not so sure I'd be able to die happy knowing I left all of that behind."

It was a touching sentiment. You probably should have left it at that, but a part of you couldn't help but dwell on it. You were — at least a part of — his reason to live. You were what kept him alive, what kept him motivated.

That didn't sound like he "might have feelings" for you.

It sounded like he loved you.

And, to make matters worse, you were beginning to realize that you returned his affections. The craving him, the missing him — the worrying about his wellbeing, the need to constantly be around him... All signs pointed towards one direction:

You loved him, too.

And, before you could stop yourself, before you could tell yourself it was too soon, you found yourself uttering the phrase, "Do you love me, Aki?"

He paused. A moment passed, and he took a deep breath. Then, he peered down at you, "Yeah. I do. I think I'm starting to love those two Devils, too — or at least care for them, but..." He licked his lips. "Not in the way that I love you."

Your heart nearly stopped beating entirely — skipping a beat, and then another while a horde of angry butterflies filled your chest.

Not in the way that I love you.

The way that I love you.

I love you.

He loves me. You couldn't remember the last time you heard those words.

You hadn't taken notice of the silence — or how long it was, for that matter — until Aki spoke again, the depth of his voice vibrating beneath your body, setting your nerves alight.

"You don't... have to say it back," He added, a little more sheepishly. He was so patient with you, so forgiving — it was all so much more than you deserved. "But, yeah, I love you."

You finally spoke up — voice a little weaker than you had intended it to sound. "I.. love you, too. I know I do."

It felt right to confess. You couldn't keep lying to him — to him or yourself.

"Do you want to stop seeing me?" He asked. He sounded like he did not want you to say yes (or maybe you were projecting). "I know it's too soon. I don't want to ruin your life."

You scoffed, "Ruin my life? I'm like a starving beggar who's been given food. You're the best thing that's happened to my life in god-knows-how-long."

He blinked at you. "I don't..."

"It makes no difference," You added on, "I love you and you love me. So, what? Are we supposed to break each other's hearts? Over a man I haven't loved in years? A man with whom I've only stayed for the sake of convenience?"

Aki sighed quietly, calling your name, but you didn't listen.

"I'm tired of running away from the truth, Aki. You were the one who showed me that," You continued. "I love you, and I think I'd be completely miserable if I lived without you."

"But you'd be at peace. You'd have a house and a life in Kyoto, still," He remarked. 

"You've consumed every inch of my peace. How can I give you your peace?" You quoted him. "Is that not what you told me? You don't want to stop seeing me, do you?"

"No, I don't," He said. "I'd be depressed beyond reprieve, but I'd do it if it meant you could be happy."

Finally, you rolled over, folding your arms over his chest, laying your head down over his heart — peering up at him through a fond gaze, "I'm happy with you, Aki. I don't want anything else."

There was an issue — of course. The issue being the dissolution of your marriage with your husband. But, still, the two of you danced around the truth.

"You shouldn't say things like that to me," He added quietly, "I'll hide you away in here forever."

You laughed softly, quietly, like you couldn't help but yearn for exactly that. "And, what? I should leave everything behind to stay here with you?"

To your surprise, however, he did not seem to be joking – not in the least. "Yeah," He deadpanned, "Would that be so bad?"

You sighed deeply, your fingers absently toying with the soft, rumpled covers of Aki's bed. The room had been bathed in a warm, golden light from the bedside lamp. The weight of contemplating a divorce hung heavily on you—images of an uncertain future and financial instability looming large in your mind.

"I'd have nothing if we divorced. I think that's the main reason I haven't done it by now. We never signed a prenup, so..." Your voice trailed off, the enormity of it all pressing down on you. "I'd be in shambles."

Aki shifted next to you, his gaze softening as he absorbed your words. He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against your arm in a gesture meant to soothe. "But you could start over. We could start over. You're miserable with him. You know that, right?"

"You're too young to understand," You sighed.

"All that for a five year age gap is kind of crazy," He retorted. "Help me understand, then – why won't you put yourself first, for once?"

You looked away, your eyes reflecting the anxiety you felt. "I would lose the house, Aki... and everything I've worked for... it's not just about me."

"The apartment down the hall is up for lease, I've heard. It's not exactly the same as your house, but it could be a start," Aki tilted his head slightly, trying to offer a comforting smile. "We could make it work."

You considered his words – the idea of a new beginning didn't sound all too bad. Slowly, a tentative smile started to spread across your face. You met Aki's gaze, and he returned your smile with one that was gentle and understanding – like he always was. 

Finally, you shifted your position, rolling over to straddle Aki's waist, sitting in his lap. You reached down, gently plucking the magazine from his hands, and intertwined your fingers with his. 

"You love me," You said giddily, grinning ear to ear like a lovestruck fool.

God, now that you heard him say it, you wanted to hear it again.

Just to make sure that it was real.

And he looked up at you through tired, pretty blue eyes, like you had hung the stars in the sky yourself. Like you were everything to him. "Yes."

"Only me," You continued.

To which he answered breathlessly, "Yes."

"And you're happy with me?" You went on, "You're not just saying that to get my hopes up?"

"Yes," He answered. "Happier than I've ever been."

You knew it was dangerous to indulge yourself so shamelessly in his affections. He loved you and you loved him – there was only one thing holding you back from being his and his entirely...Your marriage of convenience.

"And you," He asked. "Do you love me? Only me?" 

"Of course," You answered. It should have been more difficult of an admission than it was. In reality, you hadn't loved anyone in years. "I haven't been able to fuck anyone else since you came around. That's how much I love you."

"You're not special," He tutted. "I can't even get off unless I'm thinking about you and that pretty face of yours. You know that?"

"I get that. I know you love me," You smiled. "But how much?"

Aki's hands slid up your legs, gripping your thighs. Slowly, he aided you in rocking back, then forth – until you took notice of the sudden hardness pressing into your core from below. He quirked a brow, "This much."

You widened your eyes, dragging your tongue over the front of your teeth. If that's the case, then that's a lot. You played into it, of course. You pulled the hem of his oversized sweater up and over your hips so that you could rut against him. The lace of your panties created a friction so delicious that your next words came out as a shudder, "This much?"

His lashes fluttered, pretty eyes threatening to shut – but he kept them open, like he wanted to commit every second of this moment to memory. "Yes."

You rubbed yourself along the length of the bulge in his sweatpants slowly, tantalizingly – "This much?"

He released the prettiest little trembling sigh, "Yes..."

"This much?" You leaned down a little further. Your hands braced themselves on his chest, sliding down to his abs, then back up again – all while you lowered yourself a little closer to his face, rutted against him a little harder, just the way he liked it. 

"Yes," He whimpered faintly, weakly. When you brought your face a little lower, a little closer to his, you could see the faint hue of pink that painted his cheeks.

Unable to wait a moment longer, you touched your noses together, lips only inches apart.

"This much?" You breathed. Going a little faster now – all but riding the tent in his sweats – you felt your legs begin to tremble. "And this much? And this much?"

"Ah..." He panted, "Yes, yes, yes."

His eyes struggled to meet yours – you liked the sense of control it gave you. It made your mind run wild with desire, knowing he trusted you enough to let you have him like this. To let you take the reins. Just before your lips touched, you brought your bloody thumb up to his mouth. 

Then, carefully, you painted the faintest trace of red on his lower lip. He froze – holding his breath, anticipating your next move.

You traced your tongue carefully over his lower lip, kissing his lips clean – licking up what was left. It was depraved and dirty and downright distasteful... but, fuck...

It was so hot.

Clearly, Aki shared your sentiment, because before you could pull away he was gripping the back of your neck and bringing you closer to him, slipping his tongue into your mouth while it was still open – stealing a dirty kiss from you. His lips were insistent against yours, desperate, even – tasting like mint with the faintest hint of blood.

With a blissful groan, he departed from your lips, kissing his way down your neck while he rocked your hips back and forth. The friction was just enough to have you moaning in tandem, falling into him.

His tongue was hot against your skin, pulling it into his mouth to suck gently on it – gentle enough that he wouldn't leave marks, hard enough that you were gripping his biceps for support. 

You craned your head up toward the ceiling to give him more room to continue his onslaught down the valley of your neck, down your clavicle. 

You brought your hands down to the waistband of Aki's sweatpants, where he was practically straining against the fabric. "Need you, Aki, please."

He let you wrangle his pants down just far enough to free him (no, he hadn't bothered to put on a pair of boxers after his shower) – just far enough to let his aching erection spring out. His fingers looped beneath the fabric of your panties with practiced ease, and he pushed them to the side.

"Right now?" He asked. "Like this?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck. Need you, too, baby."

You wasted absolutely no time in lining his tip up with your entrance and sinking down on him. With little to no prep involved prior, it was a bit of a stretch – you could feel his length splitting you open, but, shit...

It felt so fucking good to have him inside of you. You fell forward onto him, letting him set the pace.

He let out the sexiest little gasp, squeezing his eyes shut. 

"You won't get tired of me?" You asked, rising up and then sinking back down after a moment of adjustment. Up once more, then down once more, and you could feel the pain subsiding. "Of... of this?"

"Never," He gritted out, gripping your hips a little harder. He bounced you up and down a little faster, a little harder – and that little change in speed was all it took to have the both of you gasping. He moaned, "So perfect. Fuckin' love it."

You giggled, "So this is love?" 

Trailing off, you gasped, a smile forming on your tender lips. It wasn't the years you had spent with your husband, arguing over money and food and everything else. It wasn't distasteful comments about your body, or a harsh sting on your cheek followed by a half-assed apology. It wasn't a broken promise of "I do," or a life in Kyoto. It was this.

Aki's response came in the form of a muffled whine of, "Yes," against your sensitive neck.

"This..." You grinned. 

This was love. 

You could get used to it.

You rustled from your sleep late in the evening. Nose twitching, you nuzzled your face into the warm surface your head was laid upon – warm, bare skin beneath you. Aki's chest was a milky white valley – between the pectorals of which you pressed a lazy kiss. He stirred, only slightly, and didn't wake.

A grumble of your stomach prompted you to sigh before slipping out of his grasp, out of the fortress his strong arms made around your head. His biceps were so plump that you almost wished you could sink your teeth into them, mark him as yours.

But, alas, duty calls. 

You slid out of the bed slowly, being careful not to wake your lover in the process. His sweater slipped down your waist, pooled around your thighs, and your bare feet touched the floor of his bedroom as you padded towards the door. 

You cast one last glance to the bed before you left. Aki was sound asleep, face turned to the side, inky black hair tousled and spread over the pillow. His pink lips were open just enough for quiet snores to escape. As if he sensed your absence, he grumbled something incoherent in his sleep, and rolled over onto his side. He wrapped an arm around the pillow – where you had been lying only a moment earlier – and snuggled into it. 

God, he was so fucking cute – he was going to be the death of you.

A smile teased the corners of your lips. With no great deal of satisfaction, you cracked the door open – checking your surroundings before slipping into the living room. You tip-toed over the wooden floorboards (as if that would make a difference) and into the kitchen, pawing at the fridge until it opened.

You squinted into the refrigerator light, trying to scan its contents for a good snack. Let's see... Lettuce, Leftovers, Vegetables...

Berries! You grinned, reaching for the little package of strawberries. It looked like it was pretty new – surely he wouldn't notice a few missing... right? 

If he did, he certainly didn't seem like he would care.

So you shut the fridge just as quietly as you had opened it. You nearly lept right out of your skin when you noticed something standing behind the door – someone.

It was the ginger boy from the party – Denji – and he was looking at you like he was just as confused as you were, standing only a little taller than you in Cookie Monster pajama pants and an old-looking undershirt.

What time is it? His roommates were supposed to be at training today!

He raked his eyes over your appearance, following the path of your bare legs up to your sweater, then up to your face again. Finally, he commented, "I didn't know Hayakawa Captain had a girlfriend."

You were fucking mortified. So much for being on the down low, right? 

Swallowing, you replied, "I'm not–"

"Wait a sec, aren't you that girl from the party?" He squinted at you. 

Shit. Shit. Double Shit.

"Uh..." You laughed awkwardly, toying with the hem of Aki's sweater. You knew you probably made for a remarkable sight – messy hair, bare feet, wearing nothing but his Captain (and roommate's) sweater. "What party?"

Public Safety loved to party. He wouldn't remember you from one night alone, would he?

"The one where Himeno got shitfaced? Wait, I don't think that narrows it down by much..." He pursed his lips, tapping his chin in thought while he scrutinized you, "It had to have been, like, a month ago, now. She started crying and then she got real wasted and puked on my shoes... She said she was real pissed at Hayakawa and his little girlfriend. That's you, right?"

Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. You didn't know what was more mortifying – the idea that he knew you were sleeping with his captain, or the idea that Himeno was telling him about you. 

If your flustered appearance didn't give it away (or the way you froze like a deer in headlights when he said that), your words definitely did. "I have no clue what you're talking about."

That sounds like something someone would say if they most definitely did know what someone was talking about, you thought.

What the hell was he doing out here this late, anyway? It wasn't fair.

"Youuu... sure...?" He asked, squinting at you a little harder. You were one question away from breaking a sweat, "'Cause he's been acting real fishy lately, and I heard noises coming from his room when I came back a few hours ago."

You were going to murder him and yourself a moment later. He said they wouldn't come home.

"I thought you were supposed to be at training?" You whisper-shouted back at him. "What noises could you possibly have heard?"

"We wrapped up early," He remarked, like that should have been obvious. "And, I dunno, but it sounded like someone was being murdered in there. Himeno said he had a "little girlfriend", and I don't see him around many women, so..." Snapping his fingers, he pointed them at you, "You're her. You're his secret girlfriend, right? I've been working on my detective skills, you know. I can tell these things about people."

You could do nothing but gape at him, utterly gobsmacked at two different things – Firstly, that this interaction was even happening, and, secondly, that he had managed to sniff you out so easily.

"Unless you're not," He trailed off – seemingly lost in thought, again, as he gazed up at the ceiling, scratching his chin, "You know, I heard him in the bathroom with someone the other day. Is that something you're aware of? I don't want to assume, but I figured you should know. He could be cheating on you."

Again, you couldn't form a suitable answer, mouth open. Still – because you were hungry – you plucked a strawberry from the container, inching your hand slowly towards your mouth. 

"What are you doing?" A voice cut into the tense silence between you and the orange-haired boy – who, from your understanding, was no older than 16. The two of you jumped apart. 

Aki stood in the hallway, eyeing you and Denji up wearily. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed – literally – with his hair still a little disheveled over his neck and in his face, donning nothing but a pair of sweatpants to match the shirt you were wearing. 

We're cooked, you thought. 

Then, immediately letting your gaze wander over his chiseled physique, you thought, He looks so fucking good without a shirt on.

The sound of his voice shook you from your horny reverie. He had called your name, or something like that, considering that he was looking right at you.

You tilted your head, popping the strawberry into your mouth, "Hmm?"

Aki's lips were pressed into that serious pout he always seemed to wear around his coworkers – something so different from how he normally was around you, something that you had to get used to, "I asked if he was bothering you."

"Oh." You swallowed the mouthful of strawberry you were chewing. Glancing between him and his ginger detective roommate, you muttered, "No.. No, he's just– He was just getting a snack."

His expression softened immediately. Still, he leaned against the kitchen counter, saying, "Come back to bed."

Well, shit, there goes my alibi, You gnawed on the inside of your cheek. He made it sound so tempting.

So, opening the refrigerator door and tucking the container of strawberries away on the shelf, you squeezed past Denji, murmuring a quick, "Good night." 

Then you followed Aki back to his room, leaving the poor boy speechless in the kitchen.

The next morning, Aki was already up when you stirred, the soft sound of bowls clinking and the rhythmic whisking of something filling the quiet morning ambience. The smell of something sweet drifte d in from the kitchen, pulling you out of bed. 

Snagging your purse off of the floor, you slipped into the bathroom, your feet padding softly against the cold floor. Without thinking, you reached for Aki's blue toothbrush again—the one you'd claimed yesterday, and the time before that. There was something oddly comforting about using his things.

There was also something sort of ironic about the way you hesitated before using it — like you hadn't swallowed a load of his kids before, like this was overstepping.

As you brushed your teeth, your thoughts floated back to last night—the weight of his arms around you, the way his hands had roamed your body like they belonged there. Your confession had been a surprise. His confession had been hushed whispers of, "I love you. So perfect. All for me," against your skin, a sinful croon of your name while he fell apart beneath your touch.

You winced slightly at the ache in your lower back, a reminder of how tangled the two of you had been in the sheets. That ache was a small price to pay.

Spitting into the sink, you wiped your face and took a handful of water into your mouth. Then, reaching into your purse, you produced your little Birth Control tin, popping one of the tiny white pills into your mouth.

You wandered back out into the living room a minute or two later, drawn by the smell of what you assumed was breakfast. Aki was standing at the kitchen counter, his back to you, shoulders relaxed beneath one of his signature sweaters— one that, despite how soft and oversized it looked, did nothing to hide his lean form, the muscled slopes of his shoulders. You watched him for a moment, admiring the way he moved so easily in his space, the domesticity of it all.

You walked up behind him without a word, slipping your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against the hard plane of his back. Your hands trailed lazily over his abdomen, feeling the firm lines of his muscles through the fabric of his sweater. You couldn't help but smile to yourself; he was so deceptively toned beneath all those layers, the kind of strength that made you second-guess not divorcing your husband sooner.

"Hey, troublemaker," he said softly, his voice warm and teasing, like he knew you were up to something just by the way you touched him. He didn't even flinch at your sudden embrace, just leaned into you as if he had been expecting you.

You buried your nose between his shoulder blades, breathing him in. That familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the smell of pancake batter—it was such a simple combination, but it made your heart ache in the best way. His hair was tied up in that silly little topknot again, and on anyone else it would have looked completely ridiculous. He smelled like everything good and familiar, like something you didn't even realize you needed.

He set the bowl of pancake batter down and turned slightly, his hand finding your chin, gently tilting your face up to meet his. His lips captured yours in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to show you exactly how much he wanted you. The kiss was languid, sensual,  made your knees a little weak and left you dizzy in the best way. You could taste the sweetness of his affection, the way he held you like you were something precious.

In that moment, it hit you—you really were in love. 

You didn't need to second-guess it. This wasn't like anything you had before. The ease, the quiet bliss of being here with him, in this little bubble you'd both created—it was something you had never known with your husband. 

That marriage had been full of noise and expectations, but this... this was peace. 

This was love.

And standing there, with Aki's arms around you and the smell of pancakes in the air, you knew you didn't want to let this feeling go.

"Hi. You sleep okay?" you asked, slipping your hands under the hem of his sweater, your fingers pressing against the warmth of his muscular back. You felt the subtle shift of his body under your touch, the way his breath caught for just a second.

"Better than okay," he replied, his voice still rough from sleep. "I don't even remember dreaming."

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, "Aww... did I put you to sleep?" The words came out soft, playful, with a teasing edge that hung in the air.

He chuckled, a deep, velvety sound that sent a ripple through your body. "That's rich coming from the one who came so hard she passed out last night."

Your cheeks flushed instantly, the memory making heat rise in your face as you buried it against his chest, the familiar scent of him filling your senses. His sweater smelled like him—warm, clean, and just a little bit of that cologne you couldn't get enough of.

After a moment, you tilted your head, peeking up at him through your lashes. Your hands moved beneath his sweater again, this time slowly exploring the firm ridges of his abs. He was a Greek god, he really was.

You could feel him tense, the muscles under your touch shifting with every slight movement of your fingers as they trailed down his abdomen, brushing lightly with your knuckles. You hummed, the sound vibrating softly in your throat. "Hmm... should I make it up to you?"

Aki's eyes dropped to yours, and you saw the change immediately—his face grew warm, the faintest hint of pink rising on his cheeks as his pupils widened. "Make what up to me?" he asked, his voice lower now, like he wasn't sure if he wanted the answer or if he was bracing for it.

Your fingers dipped beneath the waistband of his boxers, the fabric snapping back against his skin with a soft, sharp sound. He let out a quiet grunt in response, and the sound sent a surge of satisfaction through you.

"You're a little minx today, aren't you?" he teased, though his voice was laced with something deeper, his smirk betraying just how affected he was.

You just smiled up at him, your fingers lingering at the waistband, daring him to see where the moment would take you next.

"What can I say? I'm an early riser," you teased, your finger trailing downward over his sweatpants, over the tent that was beginning to form where your fingers ghosted over them. The way his breath hitched, followed by a flustered laugh, made you grin.

You tugged at the strings of his sweatpants, mischief dancing in your eyes. "And I think someone else is too."

Aki's gaze darted between the stove, where the pancakes were almost ready to be poured, and the closed bedroom doors, behind which his roommates were still fast asleep. His brow furrowed as if he were contemplating something serious, but the playful glint in his eyes hadn't left.

"You're insatiable," he said, though his voice held just the faintest tremor of doubt. "Not like this. Not in the kitchen."

"You're thinking about it?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why? Craving something sweet?"

"Always, pretty girl," he murmured, his tone soft but filled with heat. "But don't tempt me."

"Why not?" you challenged, leaning in just a little closer. "Who was it that said to give in to temptation and not run from the truth? Why stop now?"

Aki's smirk deepened as he slid one hand around your waist, his fingers grazing the small of your back. "Because my temptations involve me hiking that little sweater up and fucking you right there on the table until the neighbors call the cops," he whispered, his lips barely brushing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Behave."

Yes, sir.

Just before you could retort, you heard the soft creak of a door opening. In an instant, both of you pulled away from each other, the space between you filled with unspoken tension. Eventually, a familiar head of ginger hair popped into the kitchen, tired eyes barely open, pants hanging low on his hips. 

"Morning," Denji yawned.

Aki's words left you breathless, still. You cast him an uncertain glance. He smirked – barely there, of course, but just enough to tell you that your conversation wasn't over. Then, he turned back to the stove.

Denji reached for the fridge, grabbing a bottle of Orange Juice.

"You making pancakes over there?" The younger of the two boys asked, pulling a seat out from beneath the kitchen table and plopping down – clearly unwilling to bring up the whole issue of whatever the fuck happened last night.

This entire situation is unreal.

"Yeah," Aki answered. Clearly, he didn't want to talk about it either. Instead, he poured some batter onto the pan.

Awkwardly, you inched towards the seat at the table across from him. You sat down and folded your hands on the table. He eyed you up curiously, like wasn't sure if last night had been a dream. You avoided his gaze, looking down at your lap.

Suddenly, you felt conscious of your appearance — was your hair disheveled? Had he left marks on your neck? Did Denji have some sort of superpower that allowed him to see through your sweater and see the bruises Aki's strong hands had left on your hips the night before?

A few silent minutes passed, during which neither of you three brought up the elephant in the room. A moment longer, and you were joined by Aki's other nightmare roommate — a short girl with pink hair, sharp teeth, and red little horns protruding from the top of her head. 

She entered the kitchen with a proud shriek of, "Well risings, mortals! I smell sustenance."

When she noticed you, a look of confusion replaced her grin. She sat down at the table next to Denji and asked him, "Who is this human?"

And, just like that, the line is crossed.

Denji shrugged as Aki set a plate of pancakes down in front of him. He quirked a snarky little brow, glaring up at him, "Dunnno. Why don't you ask him?"

Power's lips were pressed into a confused little pout. She looked up at Aki as he walked behind her, but the moment she saw he was coming towards her with a plate, she kept her mouth shut. Four pancakes were heaped onto each of their dishes. The moment it hit the table, she reached for the fork and the knife and dug in.

Finally, Aki came around the table, offering you a plate of pancakes and an apologetic expression before taking a seat next to you. There were two pancakes on his plate, garnished with butter and honey. 

You looked at him with wide eyes that flicked between him and his roommate, blinking extra hard, as if to say, Help me.

He sighed your name in response, "Meet Denji and Power, the two shitheads I live with."

Great. That wasn't helpful at all.

"Why are you not bowing?" The Power girl slammed her fist down against the table. "You are in the presence of greatness."

Denji didn't seem to care much to acknowledge her, ripping a piece off of his pancake and stuffing it into his mouth before saying, "You're bangin' the captain, right?"

Your mouth hung open. Aki tensed, furrowing his brows angrily, "Denji."

"What? You told me you weren't seeing anyone when I asked you, but I saw her come out of your room," Denji snapped back. He ripped another chunk out of his pancake, and stuffed his mouth again. 

"We were having a... sleepover...?" You answered hesitantly, trying to make the situation better (and making it worse).

Denji pointed an accusatory finger at you, "Girls and boys don't have sleepovers."

Power shoved his arm, "Nonsense. Plenty of people do it."

Denji's head snapped towards her. He barked, "Yeah, plenty of people who are banging each other!"

You dropped your head into your hands, groaning into the table. 

Aki handled the situation calmly, as he normally did, "She's my girlfriend."

And, just like that, your head was popping back up. Your wide eyes were on him immediately, heart pounding against your ribs like it was about to break loose. Girlfriend?

Then, a warmth spread over the back of your neck and your face, and you realized you weren't entirely opposed to being his girlfriend. Unless he was just putting up an act. In which case, you definitely weren't getting your hopes up — on paper, you were still married, anyway, right?

Right?

Denji and Power looked just as shocked as you did.

"You lying piece of shit!" Denji hissed. He turned to Power and added, "See? I told you! I knew it! He's been too lenient lately. Pay up."

Power crossed her arms. Mouth still full, she replied, "I refuse."

Denji leapt up from his seat, pointing at her now, "No way. You owe me a feel!"

Oh my god.

"There's a new pack of gum in the car," Aki sighed — visibly distressed by his roommates' behavior but noticeably unsurprised. Clearly this was no infrequent occurrence in his household. 

The two of them perked up at that. 

Aki continued, voice stern and notably father-like, "I'll give the both of you two pieces each if you keep your mouths shut."

Slowly, Denji lowered himself back into his seat. Power's angry face dropped, replaced by a wide-eyed frown, like that of a begging dog.

"Yes, sir," Denji answered obediently.

Power added, "At your service, My Liege."

"This doesn't leave the table. Got it?" Aki told the two of them. Carefully, he cut his pancakes into nine squares. He popped one onto a fork. 

The two roommates nodded quickly.

Aki sighed, "Good. If you have any questions to ask her, do it politely."

Power was the first to ask, "Do you work with him?"

Finally having a chance to speak, you smiled softly, sheepishly, "Yeah. I'm new to Tokyo, though."

"Great. There will be plenty of time, then," She grinned, "I wish the two of you nothing but success in your mission to procreate!"

You choked on the mouthful of pancakes you were trying to swallow down. Before you could even comment on that wildly invasive statement, Denji answered with a question of his own.

"He said be respectful, dumbass," He tutted. He polished off the rest of his pancakes in (seemingly) a few ridiculously huge bites before he asked. "Is it true that women's boobs are measured with letter-sizes?" A pause, then he added, "How big are yours?"

"You little brat," Aki grumbled as he slammed his fork down on the table, "I'm gonna kick your ass."

An hour after breakfast had wrapped up, and Aki had left you to do the dishes, you left for the balcony — but not before reaching into the pocket of the suit jacket he had left neatly folded on the couch and stealing one of his beloved cigarettes and his lucky lighter.

You didn't know what had gotten into you lately. Yet, as you stepped outside and closed the sliding door behind you, you couldn't help the relieved sigh that left your lips the moment the cig was lit and in your mouth.

The cherry crackled as you pulled a long, drawn out hit from it — thinking briefly back to a point in time some six or seven years ago when you were still a young Public Safety officer with a cigarette dangling from her lips, and then to the night before, when Aki had blown the smoke into your mouth. You sighed, releasing the smoke with the slightest cough.

Of course, the peaceful moment was shattered the moment you felt your phone buzzing in the pocket of the basketball shorts Aki had lent you earlier, saying something about how Denji was "Shamelessly ogling your legs". They were long enough to touch the back of your calves. Of course, you imagined they fit him differently.

You plucked the little device out, flipping it open. The screen was illuminated by a call — with two concerns being raised. Firstly, your phone was only on 12%. Secondly, the person calling you was your husband.

Your heart dropped. In a moment, it was as if the tranquil morning had been shattered, leaving you with that feeling of dread you knew all too well. You hadn't spoken to him since the night before you had left for Tokyo.

You flipped the phone open, accepting the call. "Hey."

"Hey. How have you been?"

Fine, before he called. You didn't say that, though, instead pulling another puff of your cigarette. "I've been good."

There was a rather lengthy pause, after which your husband cleared his throat, "Look. I wanted to call you because I felt real bad about what happened before you left."

You couldn't possibly doubt him more. Still, you had spent the entirety of last night getting your guts rearranged by his superior. You figured you had outdone him. "Yeah? It's alright."

"No, it's not," He answered, much to your surprise, "I had no right to hit you. That was super out of line. I'm just... I've been stressed out with work and you being gone, and... I dunno, I..."

The line paused again. You took another hit.

"I can't shake this feeling about you in Tokyo. I feel like something's wrong," He finished.

Your stomach churned with unease. He was right, of course, but you couldn't let onto that – if it had taken him that long to notice, he couldn't really care. Hell, he hadn't called you since you left.

"Like what?" You replied with a noncommittal hum. You couldn't give less of a shit what he was feeling, to be completely fair and honest. He never cared what you were thinking? 

"I don't know what. I know I said some rude things, but... I don't think that's an excuse for you to be ignoring me like this. I've been waiting for your call," He sighed. "Are you okay? Are we okay?"

You nearly burst out laughing at the sheer irony of it all. So now he cares?

He's far too late.

As if on cue, the sliding door opened. Faintly, you could hear Denji and Power shouting at each other in the background, followed by a set of quiet footsteps right behind you. The door shut. You didn't have to turn around to know who it was. 

Aki came up on you from behind, wrapping his strong arms around your waist, nestling his face into the crook of your neck. He smelled of pancakes and laundry soap and cologne, a scent so divine that it had you relaxing into his touch instantly.

On the phone, your husband drew on, "Hello? You still there?"

You felt a warm kiss at the back of your neck, followed by another that landed a little higher, and then a little higher. Then he peppered a series of butterfly kisses to the sensitive skin there. You grinned, leaning into his touch while swatting him away all the same.

"Yeah," You answered, voice teetering on a giggle. Aki pulled you flush against his chest, arms squeezing you tight while he teased you with more butterfly kisses. "Sorry, I'm multitasking."

Aki's hands gripped your hips, pulling them back so that your ass was pressed right up against him. Then, he leaned down, nibbling softly at the skin near the corner of your jaw – then soothed over it with a lick of his warm, flattened tongue.

You bit back a laugh, pushing him away. Finally, he seceded, leaving you alone so that he could sit down on the chair on the balcony and watch you.

Your husband spoke up. You had almost forgotten he was there. In a few short words, he shattered your entire world; 

"I'm being stationed in Tokyo."

a/n: ermmmmmmm... heyyyyy... how yall doin.... ok now look. don't hate me. you know after all that sugar i gave yall i had to throw in a curveball, cmon. (this is a notiddygothgf fanfic after all). dont be too mad, i'll be back shortly!!! the plot thickens from here. I wonder what will happen?? (jk i already know but id love to hear what YALL think will happen). (you know mama always makes it up to you bbs). THANK YOU FOR ALL OF YOUR UNWAVERING SUPPORT! You guys and ur comments literally keep me going. Part of me never wants this story to end (which is crazy bc it was originally a one shot lmfao.). anyway not too much more, love yall!! ciao pookies! x

credits: UNKOWN ATM. I found the cover pic on pinterest unfortch. If you know the artist, please let me know, so I can credit them properly for their work!!! This is NOT MY BEAUTIFUL DRAWINGGG. I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @acethebrave , @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505

wanna join the taglist? | shameless ; chapter index

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Ugh it’s really late at night where I am and I can’t sleep and it just popped into my mind that I’m low-key terrified and excited to see what you’re gonna do with the third part of your Mickey-Randy fic. Is Mickey gonna go through with killing him? How will reader react if he does? Will she find out it’s Mickey? WILL MICKEY GET WHAT HE WANTS?

You best believe the moment you post it I’m locking myself in a dark ass room and telling my boyfriend to leave me tf alone for 3-5 business days

Well! I had the past two days off and I finished up this! For those who haven’t read part one or two of this trilogy I would recc that you do! Seriously, I never thought I would love doing this so much but I did! Massive shout out to @applesontheground for going over this and betaing pre-posting! Now then, I don’t wanna waste much time, I just wanna dive in and get deep! The long awaited conclusion of this trilogy is here! Let’s get deep in the paint!

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 6.5K. Mickey Altieri And Randy Meeks X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: So Much Context Needed. Threesomes. Sloppy Seconds. Cuckholding. Semi-Public Sex. Blow Job. Throat Fucking. Gagging. Stalking. Murder Plot. Murder. Blood. Gore. Angst. Hurt. Comfort. Death. Grief. Vaginal Sex. Kissing. Confessions Of Feelings. Manipulation. 

—

You Need Me Like I Need You.

—

When did shit, namely, his life, get this fucking complicated? 

He used to think that sex was pretty straight forward, that he had a good handle on himself, his interests and personal sexuality, even before he brought anyone else into the equation but now all the lines are blurred and muddy. He never knew that it could all be so varied, which seems fucking stupid now. The human experience has untold and truly vast depth, of course sex, something that has existed as long as people themselves have existed, has a million different ways to explore, play with and partake in and Randy had been confronted with all that, thrown headfirst into it with almost no preparation. 

Randy has experienced impossibly high highs and some true lows, the emotional roller coaster of it all was a lot to handle but also, shamefully, addicting as hell. 

He didn’t know that there could be so much sexual enjoyment derived from such typically and previously negatively associated feeling, particularly, humiliation. He had experienced plenty of humiliation over the years and it always, well, fucking sucked but for some reason, when it cropped up again from that tape and subsequent threesomes with Mickey, it made his heart race in a different way, a much better, albeit, confusing way. 

When he first was confronted with that tape he was a mess, when you eventually pulled out what was wrong he was still a total mess, and during that first threesome, he was even more of one. Mickey was an almost intolerable asshole but he had to admit, the things he did to you, the view and picture you both provided him, undeniably hot, much better than any bargain basement dumpster porn tape he ever watched by far. He hated that every boundary he tried to lay down, like Mickey wearing a condom, was ignored. Even further, the disrespecting of said boundaries were usually encouraged by you, as you seemingly craved it too. The shared wants between you and Mickey took precedence over his comfort and boundaries, he certainly didn’t do much to dissuade you both when he let it keep happening, especially when the evidence of how hard it made him was clear as day.

And the rules Mickey did agree to? It turns out he was lying, placating Randy to gain consent and access to you to then do what he wanted in the end. The worst of the worst is that when Randy had you afterwards, totally messy and stuffed with cum, literally subjected to Mickey’s sloppy seconds. It felt so fucking good that he couldn’t bring himself to have a single negative thing to say, any complaints die on his tongue as he buries his face into your neck and himself inside you to the hilt. 

Mickey said he would pull out, Mickey was apparently a fucking liar and when Randy was on his back afterwards, sweat slick and panting, still dizzy and high off the hardest orgasm he had in recent memory, he wanted to fucking thank the guy for making him do this and see how good it was. He would never actually thank him, Mickey’s ego was already approaching the size of a supernova from this situation as it was, he is sure if he thanked him for cumming in you when he asked him not to? He cannot imagine how much worse he would become. It doesn’t matter that true the experience was fucking great, the ignoring of his consent was screwed up, thanking him further sends the wrong message. 

So Randy put up with Mickey’s comments and overall attitude, he says he puts up with, but really he enjoys it, mostly secretly, he downplays his enjoyment but that damn knowing smirk of Mickey’s makes him think he isn’t as good an actor as he wants to be. 

This has been going on for a month. 

A glorious, confusion littered, fuck centered, sweat soaked and embarrassment filled month. In the moment and with his dick in his hand it is easier to take, he gets swept up in how filthy it is, finds himself consumed with your new relationship dynamic constantly. In the quiet moments between doing other things his mind wanders to either your last hookup or what might potentially happen in the next one. 

The last one he keeps on thinking about is a rather risky semi-public hookup, it was late, rushed, in the stairwell leading up to Randy’s apartment. The sight is burned into his mind, Mickey leaning against the wall, his fingers in your hair as he leads you while you are on your knees, blowing him, right in front of Randy. It is all so striking, so clear, as if it is still happening right in front of Randy when he thinks of it, the low light, the way Mickey’s head tips back and rests against the concrete wall. A bead of sweat rolls down the column of his throat, along with the bob of his Adam's apple from a heavy swallow he took after a harsh inhale of air. He hears the quiet moan, the curse that spills out as he rocks his hips to force himself deeper into your mouth, you gag, Mickey laughs breathlessly with that half sideways smirk and then, he looks at him. Mickey’s head no longer rests and instead brown eyes meet blue and that smile grows into an outright sadistic grin as he drives forward harder, more purposefully and the moan you let around the shaft invading your mouth makes Randy ache in his jeans.

Someone speaks to him, asks him a question and it pulls him out of his head, Christ, he wasn’t listening and he is far too hard over his walk down memory lane while stuck in class still. He needs to stop, he fucking hates himself for thinking and feeling like this so often. He especially hates himself for how he couldn’t wait and ended up cumming in that same stairwell a week previous during that hookup he was just pouring over, he has to fight back the urge to cringe thinking about whatever poor sap had to clean that up.  

True, while he is caught up in his head and consumed with all of this often, filled to the brim with negativity more than he’d like to be, things with you had gotten infinitely better. Your sex life together had gotten downright incredible in his opinion, he relishes the time he can be alone just you and himself without Mickey around. It isn’t as dirty as the threesomes you have, it’s softer, sweeter, more intimate and not as intense but he thinks you both need that. He has taken Mickey’s advice to heart and his fingering and oral skills have improved leaps and bounds, he loves when he is able to pull a sound out of you that reminds him of one Mickey has made you gasp out previously.  

He wasn’t sure how long this could or would go on for, it couldn’t last forever but this didn’t have to stop anytime soon, there wasn’t any reason to rush, right? Not when it felt so good and it seemed to be actively bettering and strengthening your relationship as opposed to harming it. So the worries are shoved aside, pushed to the back of his mind, a problem for future him.

Mickey is positively elated over how this has all panned out so far. He knew this stage would be fun, he just didn’t count on how much fun it could be. He got to not only fuck you, he got to humiliate Randy while he did it, being balls deep in you while you were moaning like a total whore and your pathetic cuck of a boyfriend was jerking off to it, making eye contact with the sad little redhead in that moment? Making him truly be confronted with the sight of what he could do to you? My lord, he is sure he will never need viagra when he is fifty plus, he can just recall that memory and be good to go. 

You were just so intoxicating, he thought he had it bad for you before he got to fuck you that first night Randy pissed you off but he was so wrong, it only got worse when he got to know you in the biblical sense. Now that he knows how you sound when he has two fingers angled just right inside of you, or how you feel when you are cumming on him, his interest grew into a full on crush and became infinitely worse. He couldn’t get you out of his head, how could he push it out of his mind or forget such an experience?

You were a delight, a joy to be around, so funny, so filthy and ready, willing and open. You got him, understood him, the sexual compatibility was a massive plus of course but it was more than that. It was the hushed whispers during class of dumb jokes that make you stifle laughter, it was shared lunches, and those times where you and he would end up crashing together post threesome and wake up side by side before Randy did. He knew you felt more for him than you were saying, the moments you would hold his hand when Randy wasn’t around told him that, the way you looked at him, would brighten when seeing him, it all tattled on your true feelings. He was sure of how you felt. 

Christ, he couldn’t wait until he could have you all to himself as opposed to having to carve out these small moments whenever Randy wasn’t hanging off you like he was doing his best impression of a koala bear. 

It was so soon. Mickey could hardly contain himself. The last thing standing between you and him being together is your boyfriend that you were still holding onto for some reason. Clearly it was out of some sense of loyalty, he liked that quality about you. So it means that he has to get rid of him and then you will be able to get with him guilt free, it’s the only thing that makes sense. The single option. 

You are more than worth him doing this, uprooting and changing his whole plan, Nancy had to go. She just did, no way would she understand or be on board, she was just a means to an end really, she bankrolled him sure but it isn’t like he was attached to her. He believed in his motive, in what he wanted but now that he had you, the idea of risking going to jail wasn’t high on his list of to-do’s. Maybe he could keep a low profile, maybe he would be satisfied being with you, having you and quietly killing people to satisfy those parts of himself from time to time. If he did go through with the original plan there is still a chance it might fail. Was he willing to risk even a slight chance of being separated from you? 

He is sure that the high he would get if he could pull it off, kill and spill his guts, blame the violence of movies and not go to jail would be immense, but then that part of his life would be over, that chapter closed. No way he could keep killing. Or, maybe he could, if he could keep getting away with it after that it would be amazing, however if caught that same plea wouldn’t work twice.

Perhaps the real high could be in never, ever getting caught. 

Between that and you, he might be just fine. 

He should feel worse, shouldn’t he? The thought was on his mind as he was cleaning his knife in the sink after putting an end to Nancy, he should feel something, but he just didn’t. Honestly seeing the look of betrayal on her face was priceless, she never would have thought Mickey would do this to her. She sobbed and begged, going on about how could Mickey do this to her, she needed to avenge her “sweet baby boy-” and yeah, he wasn’t going to listen to her go on about that. He didn’t waste much time on her, didn’t linger or monologue or go on and on, he made it relatively painless and pretty quick. 

The important thing is she was gone and now he could focus on killing Randy. 

Unlike his previous and now dead partner, he wanted to make it hurt, he wanted to destroy Randy, make him unrecognisable, but he knew that might not be best. Logical thought doesn't usually win out in these situations however. He hated how Randy took you for granted, he hated how you looked at him, that you insisted on staying together, hated every time he watched you kiss or anything else, he wanted to stab the knife into his chest, pierce his heart and twist. Wanted to watch him gasp, struggle, and bleed. 

He had a good handle on Randy’s schedule because of your arrangement, he is coming back from a late class, going back to his apartment while Mickey follows far enough behind to not alert him, yet. 

Ol’ Randy was so oblivious, he was going to make this way too easy. Mickey felt his anticipation grow with every single step, every heavy footfall makes his mind run with possibility and pure excitement.

He wanted to rush him, tackle him to the ground, end it right here out in the open but that is stupid and way too risky, it still doesn’t stop how his hands itch, he craved to have his knife in his grip, to bury it in something. The urge to penetrate in a violent sense and in a sexual sense are not that different and Mickey finds it so hard to ignore either of those urges. Soon it is just right, soon Randy is unlocking the door to his apartment building and Mickey picks up the pace, he runs forward, he timed it just right, the door opens and he knocks into Randy, causing him to stumble into the building with a shocked, “Woah!” 

With him totally off balance Mickey takes the opportunity, hand gripping the collar of his shirt behind his neck, he moves him, comes forward, hauling Randy along, he bursts into the stairwell door in the lobby, that same one that you all hooked up in. He is quickly throwing him with all of his strength against the stairs. It hurts his spine, knocks the wind out of him, he groans feeling slightly dazed and when his eyes open he sees the figure clad in that all too familiar black robe and white mask and his heart drops. Eyes widen and he curses, trying to scramble back on the stairs, “Shit, fuck-”

God he loved that look. Pure and unadulterated terror, totally horrified, there was only one way to make it better, Mickey pulled the knife out, the glint of the blade in the low light flashes over his face, it made Randy’s breath catch. He tried to bolt, tried to turn to launch himself up the stairs, towards the safety of his apartment, away from his would-be attacker and that wasn’t going to happen. Mickey was on him too fast, one hand threads in short red hair and he jerks his head back, making it slam on the concrete, the sound was sickening and it made his struggle so much weaker immediately. Mickey sat on his stomach, knees on either side of him, he took in the view below him. Randy was already bleeding from his head wound, scarlet starting to stain the concrete, holding his own head up weakly, his other hand reaching out, trying to push on Mickey’s torso feebly. 

He enjoyed this immensely. He watches him for a moment before it starts, it’s like the calm before a storm, like in the summer when you can feel a thunderstorm brewing, something in the air telling you what is to come, as if you can feel the electricity threatening to crackle and break though. 

He lingers for only a moment more, he knows he is pushing it, but fuck, he has wanted this for so long and when he started he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop. 

Finally the moment is just right, he raises the knife and there is zero hesitation, it comes down and comes down hard. It embeds into his shoulder first, the air is practically sucked out of Randy, eyes wide, his hand comes up to clutch near the blade but Mickey didn’t take too kindly to that. He twists it and a choked off whimper left Randy and then he yanks the knife up, pulling the blade out, the body below him moving with the force of it, back arching as the struggle to remove steel is won quickly. 

Randy is still trying to hold the wound at his shoulder but the angle is awkward and the pain is blinding, he doesn’t think anything could snap him out of the agony, his mind is running a million miles a second, synapses are firing but not connecting to anything. The urge to flee is strong but how? How can he get out, how can he get away, he is stuck, he hurts so much, what is he going to do? He thought he left all this behind in Woodsboro, he should have been more careful, he knew the threat, the risks, he should have taken that tape more seriously and realised he was being watched probably this entire time since he got said tape. 

It turns out there is one thing that can pull him out of his head and free him enough from the pain to speak, eyes come into focus as the hurt is numbed with what he is seeing. Ghostface is still seated on top of him and the fingers leave his hair, hand comes up and the mask is tugged off to reveal is pseudo sort of fuck buddy or more accurately, YOUR fuck buddy and the cucker to Randy’s cuckee’, Mickey fucking Altieri. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Randy wheezed out, a cough that sounded too wet coming out after the words left him, “Mickey?”

“Heya Randy.” He dropped the mask, gloved fingers ran through his own hair as he stared down at the body starting to struggle under him once more. It all comes to Randy at once, the cheating, the tape, the “coincidences”, the dark edges to him, the knowing looks, he is the killer, he is Ghostface. Of course he is. 

“What the fuck? Why-AHH!” Randy yelped as the knife came back down, settling in the other shoulder, he left it there, holding the handle as he said, “Oh why? Meeks wants to know why-” 

Mickey hums and grips the handle harder before starting to twist it slightly, back and forth, digging deeper. Randy is crying now, tears falling down and struggling for breath, “-lots and lots of reasons. I had this whole big motive, this crazy plan, Billy’s mom, you remember Billy’s mom, Nancy Loomis, had found me and brought me here, bankrolled my education while I was meant to do the dirty work-”

Randy could hardly believe what he was hearing over the burning and pulsing pain, Mickey kept talking, “-but thennn, you-” 

Mickey pointed down at Randy with his free hand, “-fucked up. You took your girl for granted and I got to swoop in at that party and our whole whatever the fuck you want to call it started and I realized, I don’t want to share her. I don’t want to follow through on that original plan. I just want her. But she’s-”

He ripped the knife out and Randy half screamed, blood splatters over his robe and the wall and when Randy’s scream subsided he was still holding the knife while he made air quotes as he said “-all “in love with you” for some fucking reason.” 

Mickey shakes his head, “She’s amazing, but man that shit I just do not understand. I mean look at you! No fight at all! Fuck, you are so pathetic. You find out I fucked your girlfriend and you come to my apartment begging me to do it again while you watch?! Who does that?”

He laughs with a shake of his head, “I know as long as you are around she wouldn’t dump you and I couldn’t ask her to, I would come off like a total dick and then she might push me away and end our fun. That can’t happen!”

The exclamation is loud, angry, and violent. The knife comes back down again, in the ribs and Randy’s body jerks, he coughs, blood paints his chin, he wheezes, he thinks his lung might be punctured. Mickey barks out, “Look at me, Meeks.”

Randy’s eyes open half way, he feels woozy, Mickey looks positively manic, he has leaned down closer, still holding that knife handle so tightly, “I’m doing this because it’s the only way I see that she can be all mine. I’m killing you to fix this little problem. I’m going to be there while she grieves, I’m going to be the one to help her pick up the pieces, she’s gonna cling to me and then I’m gonna have her all to myself.” 

Mickey was grinning, “Our little thing was a good time I’ll admit that but I’m ready to move up to the next level, I don’t want to be her classmate, or her friend, I don’t want to be her fuck buddy, I want to be her boyfriend. Not you.” 

Randy is shaking his head, his face is so wet, blood, sweat, drool, tears, he is mouthing something, too weak to talk, Mickey thinks it’s “No” but who cares really. 

“Yeah. It’s gonna happen and there is nothing you can do to stop it.” Mickey said in a condensing tone as he nodded, “You’re going to die, and soon it seems like!” 

Mickey rips the knife out again and Randy jerks once more, nowhere near as strong, “I cannot wait. Not anymore. You should see her when we are alone, the way she looks at me, talks to me, she isn’t yours and hasn’t been for a while. I’m just helping her see it, speeding along the inevitable. She’s mine.”

The silver blade stained red cuts through the air and hits home again, lower this time and a similar reaction is drawn, weaker still, before being pulled out and then it happens again and again. Chest, ribs once more, stomach, stab, cut, rip, tear while repeating that one word over and over again. A quiet chant breathed through gritted teeth on harsh exhales from the sheer amount of exertion and effort, “Mine. Mine. Mine.” 

Randy is dead.

He didn’t get proper last words but Mickey thinks he didn’t deserve them the same way that he didn’t deserve you. Mickey is sure it happened sometime between the seventh and the seventeenth stab but it doesn’t really matter. He stays there for a moment looking down at Randy, body slowly turning cold, bloodstained and eyes lifeless. 

He sits until he is sick of looking at him and then he gets up, the robe and mask are rolled up and put into his bag. He leaves out the back way, the camera is broken on that side of the building so no one can possibly tie him to this. He left with a spring in his step and the bag under his arm and excited for the news to reach him naturally. 

The phone ringing is what wakes him up, he is wiping sleep out of his eyes as he makes his way to the kitchen, he snatches it up off of the bar and brings it up to his ear, “Lo’?” 

It’s you, the voice sounding wrecked, you barely get the words, “Randy’s dead-” before you are sobbing, he lets himself smile. You start trying to talk a mile a minute through your sobs and he listens to you go on for a minute before he cuts in asking you to take a breath before he is apologising, tell you how awful that sounds and as you are sniffing you ask quietly, “Ca-can you come over? I-I don’t wan-want to be alone.” 

 “I’ll be right there.” He assures and you tell him, “Hurry, please-”

He tells you he will be right there. He hangs up, he throws on clothes and finds himself humming on the way to your place. He shows up with coffee and breakfast, it’s stupid early and he isn’t sure when you last ate, he knocks and calls out, before he can get your name out the door is open and you are throwing your arms around his neck. He almost drops the coffee tray in one hand and the take out bag in the other but he keeps a grip on them. Your face is wet and buried in his shirt, body shaking and he says softly, “Oh hey, hey, I’m here.” 

You stand in your doorway for minutes and he doesn’t rush you, he lets you cling to him and God this is already working out so well. 

Once he manages to get you inside he sits with you, he makes sure you eat, he listens, holds the box of tissues while you lament, “I wasn’t allowed to see him but they say it was a massacre, they are talking murder Mickey-”

“Murder? Oh my God!” 

If only you knew. But you never would. 

He barely left your side. You kept asking him to stay, begging him to be close, you told him that he made you feel safe, made this easier to handle, you feared you’d fall apart without him and it made him feel so important. Your grief is intense but he loves how you are like this, how you rely on him even when things are difficult and hard to manage, he loves the desperation. He pokes, he has a small pattern, you are so raw that a small nudge makes your emotions go screwy and when you are in a deep spiral then he helps soothe you, pulls you out of it again and makes sure any positive emotion you feel during this time, no matter how small, is tied to him. 

You are so needy, but he has never felt this needed and my God is it nice to feel needed. 

No serious suspicion is thrown his way. He doesn’t kill anyone else, lets everything calm and die down and a funeral is planned and hosted for Randy over a month after he died. Everyone was just so scared that whoever it was might strike again beforehand. The fear it was Ghostface was present, kept Sidney and everyone else permanently on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop but it seemingly never does and they all have to start moving on sometime. Mickey had to fight hard to keep the act up, but inside there was such power and joy in doing the receiving line of Randy’s family, shaking hands and giving condolences, everyone unaware that he is the reason and cause of his death. He made the right call, abandoning the other plan for this was amazing. He listens as you cry your way through your turn speaking, he knows he is going to be comforting you hard after this and true, right after you finished you come over and he held your hand, giving you the pack of tissues he had in his pocket.

The casket buried, the wake over, he is with you back at his place. You’d been wanting to spend more and more time here, you hadn’t cleared out all the little pieces of Randy from your space yet and you felt like you couldn’t face them today. Your eyes are red from the crying, your nose raw from the tissues used, sitting on his couch, heels kicked off and in your funeral dress still. You aren’t quite as sombre now, he had seen to that, he got your favourite take out just before the place closed, it was near midnight and you actually ate, half empty boxes on the coffee table along with a few empty drink cans. 

You were cradling your current drink in your hand, looking across the couch to him, you were both sitting on the same ends of the couch as before, a mirror of that night months previous that started all this. He was in the middle of telling some story that was making you laugh, the smile on your face was small but steadily growing. “She ended up not even having her wallet after all that.” 

“Holy shit, no way! So then what?” 

“What do you mean what? I sure as shit didn’t pay for her.” He laughed and you said around an amused exhale of your own, “Alright fair, especially after how she treated the cashier yeah fuck her.” 

He takes another pull from his can and you did the same before setting aside with a sigh. You rested your head on the back of the couch as you said, “Thanks for this Mick.”

A questioning hum left him paired with raised eyebrows and you elaborate, “For being here for me. I know I’ve been like a mess, understandably so but a mess all the same. I know dealing with me hasn’t been easy but just…Without your support I dunno how I would have gotten through this.” 

“Oh hey, no need to thank me. That is what a good guy does.” He said easily and you nod, “You really are, you’re so great.”

You reach out, a grabby hand gesture and he fills your need, taking your hand and you sigh. “I feel bad.” 

“For a different reason other than the funeral?” He asked and you laughed a little, “Yeah. I just…I’ve been having these thoughts that make ME feel like I’m a horrible person.”

“What thoughts could you possibly be having to make you feel like that?”  

“I dunno if I should say.” You grumbled and he said, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to but you know you can trust me. I won’t judge you and I sure as shit won’t tell anyone else.” 

You are quiet for a moment before deciding that yes, he is right, you can trust him. You might even feel better getting it out, “I loved Randy. I mean I still love Randy but…All this time I have been spending with you and everything from before, how great you are I’ve been thinking about you more than I should. In ways I probably shouldn’t.” 

He ignores the first half of your sentence, he is sure that would fade in time, he focuses on the second half, “Like how?” 

You give a half shrug and look away, gaze averted and he says your name, stretching it out, he is leaning closer and you steal a glance back at him and say, “Like…” 

The tension is thick, you’ve moved closer throughout the conversation yourself, not so much on the opposite ends of the couch now, almost on the same cushion in the middle of the couch you take a deep breath to steady yourself and you open up. You are already raw and vulnerable, why not go all in? 

“I’ll be in a class I don’t have with you and I feel this huge hole where you should be. I don’t feel like I can do anything properly while away from you, I can’t eat or focus, the weight of everything else crushes me but when you are around I have, fuck, I have hope. I think I can do this, I feel stronger and better, you do that for me!”

He keeps doing what he has for more than a month, he listens, he squeezes your hand harder and he listens to you. 

“I’ll be in bed alone and wish you were with me. My sleep schedule is wrecked but I think I could finally get some good rest with you because I swear to God, if there is one, I only feel safe around you lately.” 

You are speaking so fast now, as if you can’t communicate your intense emotion fast enough until the words stop because your other hand that isn’t in his is on his face, tugging him close to you and kissing him. It starts off hot, deep, needy and he is stunned, it takes a moment to match the energy but he lets you lead it. Fuck he has missed this, missed feeling you against him, you start to slow, he keeps pace, from all consuming open mouthed to soft brushes with laboured breathing and you pull back, “That. I have been thinking the most about doing that.” 

“And that…Makes you feel bad? Cuz it felt pretty good to me.” You laugh from the tone and his expression, the big smile that is so him, you admit, “No that did feel good but I feel bad because my boyfriend has been in the ground for less than twelve hours and I’m on your couch, kissing you and I’ve been thinking about doing it for weeks.” 

You inhale in a way he has come to know far too intimately, that hitch that tattles on you that you are going to cry, you choke out, “How shitty of a person does that make me?” 

He lets go of your hand, his hands are on your cheeks and then tracing down to your neck, thumbs stroke over the line of your jaw and he says, “It doesn’t, hey,  you aren’t a shitty person. You’re my favourite person.” 

Your hands are on his wrists and you shake your head, “I’m pretty sure I am, I-I don’t deserve you, I didn’t deserve Randy either-”

A sniff and he assures further, “No, stop that, you deserve so much. I wouldn’t be here, I wouldn’t be doing this if you didn’t.”

It is quiet for a moment, you are trying to breathe through it and stop yourself from seriously crying, he knows just the right thing to say, “I know I’m really stupid but I have good taste.” 

You laugh. A nod as you admit, “Okay, you’re right, you do have good taste.” 

“We’re gonna ignore you not disagreeing with me calling myself stupid-” You laugh again harder, “But see! So if I have good taste that means that everything I do for you isn't a mistake, it’s not wasted, you deserve this.”

You look into his eyes and ask a bit more seriously, one of the main worries weighing on you, “Isn’t it too soon?”

It’s his turn to laugh, “What? Do you seriously think Meeks would want you to recognize Victorian mourning customs and mope around in all black for a year?” Another laugh spills out of you at the image, “Why does the timing matter on this? If you want it now, then why not now? What is waiting a few more weeks or months going to do?”

He is right. Why does it matter?

The next thing you ask is, “Am I really your favourite person?” 

“Easily. No contest.” You are still so close to each other, and you decided fuck it, why does it matter? You’ve been through so much, you are desperate and you deserve to feel good and so you give into what you have been craving. 

You kiss him again on the couch. 

Neither of you stay on the couch for very long. 

It comes out while you are in his bed, your dress on the floor and you are under him, arms wrapped around his neck, you feel like you could cry but not for any of the feelings or reasons that you had previously over this past month. You don’t want to sob because you are sad or missing Randy or anything else, you cry because fucking hell you missed this, you needed this, it feels incredible but it’s more than that. You finally realised it a while ago, but now? You are unable to ignore it, can’t hold it inside, the admission is on your tongue and has been threatening to come out between moans for minutes. Rocking with him, feverish kisses placed over the side of his face as you gasp, Mickey’s hands are all over, like he cannot get enough of you, he is buried deep and he hits that spot that makes your whole body want to shudder and at long last it comes out in a rush, overwhelmed and feeling overflows you tell him-

“I love you.”

That makes him slow, not stop, but slow, rolls of his hips are purposeful, the change in angle is fantastic, the pressure and grinding on your clit makes you want to cry all over again. He has one arm under your neck, the other one runs up your side, there is this expression on his face that can only be described as a cross between joyful disbelief and pure affection, brown eyes are warm as he asks, “What did you just say?”

You repeat it, louder, voice more sure, “I said I love you.” A harder thrust, a shared and hushed moan, your nails biting into the skin on the back of his neck, you make yourself maintain eye contact, it’s difficult  but it’s important so you manage, “I am tired of-of feeling it, fuck, and not saying it, I fucking love you.” 

He couldn’t be happier, this was better than he ever could have planned or hoped, better than any dream possible, he leans down, kisses you deeply and you return it. Eyes closed you are close in sensation and the moment, in him. He pulls back, close enough his forehead is touching yours as he breathes back the same sentiment, “I love you too, so fucking much.” 

A broken moan that could be read as the word “really” but he is picking up the pace, quicker, rougher and your hand falls back, a desperate plea of, “Mickey, fuck, don’t stop-”

As if he would ever. 

He did manage to get away with it.

It’s been over a year since Randy’s murder, you are none the wiser and you barely mention Randy anymore. Sure his birthday, his death day and your old anniversary with Meeks was hard but that was understandable and tolerable. 

The main and most important thing is that he had you, after the funeral you and he became official, you kept it on the down low, he insisted he wanted you to be spared the judgement, you were already going through so much and any added stress needed to be stomped out. You and he talked regularly about living together and man was he ever excited for when that could happen. Sure it would make his “hobby”, whenever he picked it back up again, more difficult but fuck it, he loved a good challenge. The itch for murder hasn’t been on his mind in so long, much too happy and concerned with you, wrapped up in your relationship but he was feeling that need wriggling in the back of his brain, he can ignore it for the time being. He got away with it and he has you, life is good.

[elvenmother]

The Art of Crossed Wires - 8 - The Third Time

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female Reader Rating: Teen. Warnings: Swearing Chapter: 8/9 Word count: 2769

Summary: After your date with Agent Monroe, you need to fix things once more with Marcus. This leads to a heart-to-heart and, finally, some clarity.

Note: This has not been beta read, so apologies for any mistakes. Almost the last chapter.

Part Seven | Part One | Series Masterpost

After the disastrous date with Garrett Monroe, you decided it would be a good idea to spend the weekend with friends, specifically Mary. One quick phone call on Saturday morning, and she arrived at your apartment within the hour. She’d brought snacks as well as a couple of bottles of wine, just in case, apparently.

Then you told her everything. About how her pranks had put you so on edge that you’d slapped Marcus. About the book and the lunch that came after. About how you’d thought it was a date and made a fool of yourself the following Saturday at the gallery. And finally, about the date with Garrett and how he’d tricked you when you were at your lowest.

“Wow.” Mary sat for a moment, her eyes wide, her chocolate bar paused halfway to her lips. “That’s a lot to unpack and, just… wow.”

“Yeah.” You slumped back on your sofa, stuffing a mini cheese wheel into your mouth.

“Right.” She sat forward, finishing off her chocolate in one mouthful. “Firstly, I am so fucking sorry about the pranks. I went way too far and haven’t really properly apologised for that. So I’m doing it now. I am very sorry. Now, let's take this step by step and fix this…”

“Mess?”

“I wasn’t going to say mess, but yeah, honey, it’s a clusterfuck right now.” Mary dove into her purse and retrieved a pad and pen. “Right, first was the slap, but you fixed that yourself with an excellent gift. But then…”

“Then I went to lunch with him and read too much into it.” You covered your face with your face dramatically. 

“Yes, but again this is fixable.” She patted your knee and continued to write. “Honey, this is an easyish fix. You need to talk to him.”

“I tried that.” Your reply was muffled by your hands.

“No. You explained your point of view, but then neither of you properly talk about it afterwards.” Mary reached over, pulling one of your hands down so she could look at you. “Yeah, it’s awkward. But you need to talk to him about how you were mistaken and didn’t mean to make it…”

“Weird.”

“Uncomfortable. Just be honest. He’ll understand.” Mary smiled at you, and you felt your other hand drop. “Also, you need to tell him what Agent Monroe said about him. Cos, that’s really manipulative bullshit.”

“Urgh, Monroe.” You grabbed a bag of chips, pulled it open and stuffed a handful in your mouth. “‘e’s gonna b’ fuffin’ weir’ wi’ me too.”

“You leave Agent Asshole to me.” Mary looked at you sternly. “I’ll keep an ear out and head off any gossip. I’ll also give some of the other ladies a quiet heads up about his ways.”

“Thank you.” You looked over at your friend. 

“I helped make this mess, and besides, I love you.” She shrugged. “Anyway, we have a plan now, so let's forget about stupid men for the rest of the weekend.”

“Agreed.” You grinned as Mary held her arms open for you.

“Let's cuddle up and watch something dumb.” Mary chuckled as you crawled into her waiting arms.

~~~~~

After spending the weekend with Mary, you felt tons better. Not only had you mended your friendship, but you also had a plan in place. Talk to Marcus. It sounded so simple, but as the hours ticked by on Monday morning, you still had no idea what you were going to say. Sitting at your desk, you tried to focus on your work. However, after reading the same paragraph five times, you knew something needed to be done. This was interfering with work now. You needed to go talk to him as soon as possible before you lost your nerve.

Quietly getting up from your desk, you scanned the office for Marcus, finally spotting him at the edge of the bullpen on his way to his office. Walking briskly across the space, you were thankful that most of your colleagues were focused on their tasks as you passed by them.

You managed to catch up to Marcus by the elevators between the bullpen's large open-plan workspace and the agents' private offices. He stopped as he heard your footsteps, turning with a smile only for it to drop as he saw it was you.

“Hey.” You took a deep breath and smiled. “Do you have a minute?”

Marcus nodded, pulling the files he was holding closer to his chest. “Sure.”

“I wanted to talk to you about the other Saturday at the gallery and what happened. I just-”

“How was your date with Monroe?” Marcus cut you off, his handsome features becoming sharper and his tone more abrupt. You heard your jaw click shut as you stared at him.

“I… it was… what makes you think it was a date?”

Marcus frowned as his eyes darted away from you for a second. His whole body seemed tense as he licked his lips in thought. “Because I’ve had to listen to him talking about it to other agents all morning. I get the impression it didn’t go well, seeing as he’s not saying very kind things about you.”

“What?” A shiver ran down your spine as you remembered just how badly the date had ended and imagined what kind of things Garrett could be saying.

“Yeah.” Marcus swallowed hard. “He took great joy in telling me and a couple of the other agents that you were…” He closed his eyes as if contemplating whether or not to tell you.

“What has he said about me?” You groaned, wanting to get this over with. “Just tell me.”

“That you’re an uptight bitch who wants to bag an agent because you think it’s the way to get a promotion out of the bullpen.” Marcus sighed, rolling his eyes. “But that you won’t put out to seal the deal. His words, not mine.”

“Did he now?” You folded your arms across your chest and scowled. You knew Garrett Monroe was a pig, but this was low even for him. “And you believe him?”

There was a long pause as Marcus bit his lip and looked everywhere except at you. “No.” He said quietly. “I just, I didn’t expect him to be your type.”

“He’s not. I was just… I don’t know… confused about where we stood.” You unfolded your arms as you shook your head. “After we spoke that Saturday, you were really weird with me because of what I said. And then Monroe told me you weren’t into women, so-”

“Wait! He said what?” Marcus held a hand up to stop you midsentence, staring at you incredulously. 

“I think he said so I’d go on a date with him, but at the time, I dunno, it sort of made a little sense.” You shrugged, watching as Marcus’ face relaxed slightly from the tense frown. “I’d made you feel awkward, and I figured it was because you were…you know, gay.”

“Gay? You thought I was gay?” Marcus blinked like you’d just told him you had two heads.

“I-”

“I was flirting with you, and you-” Marcus stopped as two coworkers approached. Quietly watching them as they passed, he frowned. “This isn’t the place to talk about this.”

You thought for a moment as your colleagues left earshot. “Coffee shop?”

“No.” Marcus shook his head. “Look, Monroe has been a grade-A jackass, but he did make me realise we need to fix… this.” He motioned to the two of you. “Would you feel comfortable coming to my place tonight?”

“Your house?” You were taken aback, unable to hide the surprise from your voice.

“Apartment, yeah.” Marcus ran a hand through his hair, still watching to make sure no one was listening. “If that’s too-”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Ok.” Marcus let out another sigh. “I have to get back to work. I’ll email you my address. See you at seven?”

“Seven.” You nodded, watching as Marcus returned the nod and headed towards his office. With your shoulders feeling a little lighter but your head still buzzing, you made your way back to your desk.

~~~~~

Marcus’ apartment building was a tall modern building. The exterior was made up of red brick and glass, and it dwarfed some of the older buildings on the street. To the left of the large double glass doors was the intercom panel. After double-checking your email on your phone, you found Marcus’ apartment number and pushed the smooth silver button.

A few minutes and an elevator ride later, Marcus greeted you at his apartment door. He must have showered as soon as he got home, his hair still slightly damp with little droplets falling onto the shoulders of his t-shirt as he showed you into his modest apartment. You watched as he fussed, tidying cushions and books before motioning for you to take a seat on the sofa.

“Have you eaten?” He perched on the arm of a nearby chair, tugging on his t-shirt nervously.

“No, I barely had the chance to change before heading over here.” You gestured to your more casual clothes: a graphic tee and well-worn jeans.

“Me too.” Marcus nodded, smiling slightly before standing and pulling his phone out of his own jeans. “Take-out?”

“Sure.” You still left nervous despite the attempts of both of you to make this feel relaxed. “I’m happy with whatever you like. Just nothing too spicy.”

“Got it.” Marcus thought for a moment before swiping on his phone. “Pizza?”

“Sure.” You repeated and waited while he placed the order, taking in his home.

The outside of the building was very modern; something echoed inside and further demonstrated by the clean, crisp lines in the apartment. However, even if you hadn’t known this was Marcus’ apartment, everything about the decor screamed it to you in full volume.

Soft, plush armchairs and a big comfy sofa dominated the living space adding much-needed bursts of vibrant colour to the stark white of the walls. Portraits hung alongside landscapes and abstract pieces. Beautiful photographs sat next to sketches. Looking over at the walls, you felt a smile creep onto your face as you realised almost every inch of them was covered in art. 

Two massive bookcases overflowed with books, graphic novels and what looked like a couple of TTRPG rulebooks. Then in front of them on the shelves, each probably deliberately positioned, were tens of tiny sculptures. You had been tempted to call them knickknacks, but that somehow felt like diminishing their beauty. Small wire models shared shelves with Funko figures. A grey speckles picture frame with green tentacles bursting out of it sat next to a bronze handbell shaped like a southern lady, the hoop skirt flaring out to form the main bell casting.

“Shouldn’t be too long.” Marcus snapped you out of your observations, tucking his phone back into his pocket. Following your eye line, he smiled at the bell. “My grandmother’s. She collected them. I remember she had a sideboard in her house covered in them. When she passed me, my brother, my sister and all the cousins got to choose one to keep. I chose the southern belle.”

“That’s a lovely way to remember her.” 

“Yeah.” He moved from the arm of the chair to sitting properly in it. “Funny thing was there were no arguments either. We all had different favourites, so everyone got the bell they wanted.” Marcus paused for a moment, still looking at the bell, before taking a deep breath and turning back to you. “So… let's get awkward.”

“Ah.” You nodded, taking a deep breath of your own. “Yeah, no point putting this off.”

“I’ll start.” Marcus frowned for a moment. “I owe you an apology.”

“Me?” You could hardly believe your ears. “I’m the one who made it weird.”

“No, you weren’t. Well, yeah, a little. But I did too.” He paused as he chose his next words, his eyes locked onto your face. “You think you made it weird by thinking of our lunch as a date and then saying so. But the truth is you saying that to me caught me off guard because I’d also been thinking of it like that.”

Marcus stopped and seemed to be collecting himself while his words sunk in. It had been a date. And more than that, you hadn’t imagined him feeling the same way.

“I need to tell you about something that happened to me just before I moved to D.C.”, Marcus spoke again after a few moments. His voice seemed quieter, softer almost, and the more he spoke, the more fragile he sounded. “Just before I got my promotion to the task force, I was seeing someone. A fellow agent. I was… I fell for her. Hard. Even asked her to move here with me.”

“But she said no?”

“Actually, she said yes. I called in favours to get her assigned here too and eventually asked her to marry me.” Marcus swallowed, and you could see him fighting tears. “Again, she said yes, and I thought everything was perfect. I was so in love. But as you’ve probably guessed, it didn’t end well. She left me and…”

Marcus stopped to collect himself. You shifted along the sofa towards him until you were sat at the other end and could reach his hand. Slowly you reached out for him, and to your relief, he took your hand, giving it a squeeze.

“She broke my heart.” He said finally. “I went over and over what I did wrong. Eventually, I think I figured it out. I went too fast, rushed it. Story of my life.” Marcus let out a mirthless laugh. “Anyway, I made a promise to myself to take it slow. And I’ve tried. But then I met you.”

“I’m sorry about what happened.” You weren’t sure what to say. You could certainly relate, not ever really having had much luck in love yourself.

“I loved our lunch together and couldn’t wait to see you again. I thought about you all day Friday. Wondering what you were doing. Imagining what it would be like to…” Marcus trailed off for a moment, squeezing your hand again. “But I was also scared because I could already feel myself falling for you. Moving too fast again. But I got around that by telling myself it was just one-sided.”

“But then when I confessed the same thing…”

“Yeah.” Marcus dropped his head down, looking at you through his eyelashes. “I froze because, well… that made it real, and that scared me. And by freezing, it sent you the wrong message, which is why I’m the one who needs to apologise.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a soft laugh. “We’re quite the pair. We’ve both been overthinking this way too much.”

“Yeah.” Marcus chucked. “I should have said something but chickened out every time I saw you. But then-”

“Monroe.” You scowled. “That asshole.”

“Yeah.” Marcus frowned. “He told me he had a hot date but didn’t say who. Kept dropping hints, which I obviously didn’t pick up on. So when I saw you with him that night, it felt like my heart had been stomped on-”

“Marcus, that’s not why I-”

“I know.” Marcus reached over and took both of your hands in his. You had to marvel at just how large and gentle his hands were. “It felt like that cos I knew I’d screwed up and missed my chance. Well, I thought I had.”

“I, um…” You ran your thumb over the back of one of his hands, looking up into his smiling face. “Can I ask? Who were you with that night?”

You watched as he gave a soft chuckle. “My older sister Amelia. I called her to ask for advice. Told her I was doing it again.” He laughed harder. “She came to visit last weekend to deal with her idiot brother, well, one of them anyway.”

You could pretend you weren’t relieved, and Marcus must have noticed your shoulders relax, although thankfully, he didn’t say anything. Instead, the two of you sat for a moment, smiling at each other, basking in the glow that comes from knowing the other person returns your feelings. 

“Start over again?” You said finally with a small giggle. This was becoming almost ridiculous. 

“Third time’s the charm, right?” Marcus gave you a lopsided smile, his warm brown eyes twinkling. 

“So, to be clear.” You needed to hear him say it. “This will be a date?”

Marcus leaned forward, pulling your hands towards him and stared directly into your eyes. “Definitely a date.”

~~

Taglist: @jxvipike, @miraclesabound, @littlemisspascal, @galaxyofmando, @pintsizemama, @athalien, @zanzann, @furiousmushroom, @ghostofaboy, @thebestrouge, @janebby

[infinite-riches]

I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm

Summary: The sky was already filled with grey clouds and a haze that only meant one thing– snow. And it was coming soon. It was rare for them to get snow thanks to their proximity to the coast and even when they did, it didn’t stick around long. As nervous as Johnny was about the impending storm, he was equally excited by the prospect of being snowed in with his lover.

Or: The boys get snowed in together.

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x Simon "Ghost" Riley

Word Count: 4,567

Warnings: none :)

A/N: I am gonna take a minute to thank all the people that helped me with this monster piece. Lots of love to the CoD Babygirls and GhostSoap servers- so many people helped generate ideas and cheered me on and I'm so thankful to all y'all!

Extra love to my beta readers/editors for this piece: Xnihilo and ANTchan. All my fucking love to y'all cause I seriously couldn't have done this without your help <3

And as always feel free to leave feedback/constructive criticism <3

AO3 Link (if you prefer): I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm

The shop was bustling with people stocking up– word had gone out that a brutal winter storm was headed their way and it had everyone rushing out to prepare. Johnny scanned down the aisle, looking for a few pantry staples they had recently run short on when he felt the cart move, the familiar shadow of Simon in the corner of his vision.

With a glance down, Johnny couldn’t help but laugh. Tablet, shortbread, and caramel logs now rested atop the pile of groceries. “Ye and yer bloody sweet tooth!”

“You know you love me…” Simon responded, eyes crinkling at the corners, signaling he was smiling beneath his black medical mask.

“Aye, that ah do… now go be of some real help and grab some Irn-Bru, would ye?” Johnny just barely caught the way Simon rolled his eyes before slipping back down the aisle in search of Johnny’s favorite drink. Simon failed to understand the appeal of the strange orange soda. To him, the taste was a peculiar mix of cream soda, ginger, and bubble gum that made him want to scrub his tongue with a Brillo pad.

By the end of the shopping trip, two boxes of Simon’s favorite tea and a bottle of Johnny’s favorite scotch had also appeared in the cart alongside the things they actually needed– milk, bread, jerky, fish food for Bubbles and Casper, and cat litter for Old Man. This could quite possibly be their last shopping trip for several days– the threat of heavy snow combined with the location of their cabin almost guaranteed they would be snowed in.

As much as Simon had come to love their little cabin beyond the edge of town, he had to admit it had taken getting used to. The nicely sized cabin sat on a decent piece of land, with beautiful old pines along one edge of the property and sprawling green grass along the other. There was a large space cleared out behind the house where Johnny had taken to keeping a garden. Simon, on the other hand, had taken claim to the shed, using the space to fix up his motorcycle (and secretly fix one up for Johnny).

But the best part of their new home (and life together) was the privacy. The only people who passed along the road at the edge of the property were the neighbors who lived 5 miles down the road in either direction or the occasional lost tourists. Aside from that, they were left alone, with no one to bother them or their pets.

-----

Johnny couldn’t help but smile to himself on the drive back. The sky was already filled with grey clouds and a haze that only meant one thing– snow. And it was coming soon. It was rare for them to get snow thanks to their proximity to the coast and even when they did, it didn’t stick around long. As nervous as Johnny was about the impending storm, he was equally excited by the prospect of being snowed in with his lover.

Sure, he and Simon had their fair share of wintery missions– brutal snow storms, shitty MREs, and frozen fingertips– before they retired, but those paled in comparison to snuggling in front of the fire together, warm blankets and hot drinks in hand, watching fluffy flakes of white drifting past the window.

Simon’s hand found its way to rest comfortably on Johnny’s thigh, thumb brushing along the thick material of his jeans, “You good?” His voice was soft, having noticed the way Johnny was lost in thought.

Johnny hummed in response, a sweet smile spreading along his face, “Aye, just thinkin’…”

“Don’t hurt yourself, love,” Simon teased, a sly grin on his lips. Johnny reached over to smack Simon’s chest, a chuckle escaping his lips as he did.

-----

The bitter cold nipped at Johnny’s fingertips as he leaned against the door frame. He couldn’t help but stare as Simon worked his way through the long-neglected woodpile next to the shed. Strong, broad arms swung the axe through the air with ease, and a satisfying crack rang out each time the steel made contact with the soft pine. His eyes raked across the delicious outline of Simon’s muscles beneath his thermal shirt– jacket long shed so he didn’t overheat.

Johnny allowed his mind to wander, images of Simon on top of him, caging him in with strong, broad arms, firm fingers gliding down flushed skin filling his brain. He imagined warm lips working their way down from his ear to his jaw, neck, collarbone, from his sternum down– an especially loud crack of the axe stole Johnny’s attention from his fantasy. “Love, when yer finished, ah need help gettin’ a few things out from storage!”

“I’ll be in soon, we need anything from the shed?” Simon leaned on the axe, chest heaving from the exertion as he took in the delicious sight of Johnny wearing his sweats. The pants were hanging loose on his hips, his sleeves a little too long, the neckline showing just the top of Johnny’s shoulder. ‘Riley’ was emblazoned just above his heart. Simon tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. Johnny, the little minx, knew what it did to Simon when he wore his clothes, the way it made his heart race and head spin seeing his Johnny so clearly claimed.

“Dinnae think so… just bring some of that firewood in and I’ll help ye get the rest later!” With that Simon gave a nod and turned back to the woodpile. Johnny took one last sinful look at his ass before slipping back into the warmth of their house.

In all honesty, Johnny probably could have figured out a way to get their sleeping bags and insulated jackets down from storage on his own, but he much preferred Simon helping. After years spent skirting prying eyes and sneaking moments alone, Johnny had become greedy for Simon’s time and attention, unable to stand much time apart. That, and Johnny knew the cold would be seeping into Simon’s bones by now, fingers especially cold courtesy of his poor circulation.

It was almost automatic, the way Johnny moved towards the stove, putting the kettle on and reaching for Simon’s favorite mug– one Johnny had bought him. ‘World’s Best Dad’ was sprawled across the front but ‘Dad’ had been crossed out, replaced with ‘Lieutenant’. As he had a hundred times before, Johnny added two sugar cubes and a bag of Simon’s favorite Earl Grey to the mug. It had been one of the few subtle ways he had been able to care for Simon when they were deployed. Every morning, there had been a fresh, steaming mug on Simon’s desk accompanied by a sticky note doodle, always signed ‘–Johnny’.

The sound of the back door closing and boots on the hardwood brought Johnny from his thoughts. The kettle was already whistling, demanding his attention. Johnny filled the mug, meeting Simon halfway from the kitchen.

A few beads of water clung to his blond strands, courtesy of the snow beginning to fall at a heavy rate. “Snow’s moving in, I’ll need to get the firewood in before I help you, doll,” he said, graciously accepting the mug and placing a gentle kiss to the top of Johnny’s head. The warmth seeped into his fingertips, a gracious relief from the growing numbness.

“Aye, I’ll head out, ye get warmed up a bit. Cannae have ye freezing to death on me… leaving me behind with Old Man, Casper, and Bubbles…” As if on cue the scrapy old shelter cat came slinking down the hallway, happy to settle himself between Simon’s legs.

“Impossible, you wouldn’t survive a day cooped up with em’ all. We can barely keep Old Man out of the fish tank as is,” Simon chuckled, leaning down to scoop Old Man up in one arm. “Isn’t that right, Cap?” The old cat bristled at the sudden change in elevation, taking a languid swing at Simon’s head.

“Just like Price,” Johnny laughed, moving towards the door to pull his boots on. “Shouldnae take me too long, stay here and get warmed up.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer, love.” As Simon moved to the oversized armchair in the living room, Old Man followed, happily settling into Simon’s lap once he was comfortable.

And if the sight of Johnny ditching his sweatshirt after a few visits to the woodpile, broad tan chest glistening with sweat despite the crisp edge to the air, warmed him up more than the tea, then that was his business.

-----

“Ah think we just need our winter gear… oh, and the sleepin’ bags in case the power goes out!” Johnny was standing at the foot of the ladder, supposedly helping Simon get the winter kits out. Really, he was staring at Simon’s ass more than he was doing any real helping.

Simon reached for the bin containing their old white camos, flexing a little extra for his lover as he did. “Grab this for me, Johnny?” Simon passed the bin down single-handedly, rolling his right shoulder to ease the ache afterward. It had never quite recovered after the mission that pushed them both to retire.

It wasn’t something either of them looked back on with any fondness– a source of nightmares and panic attacks for both boys long after returning home. An op gone wrong, courtesy of bad intel, put Johnny in the hospital for 3 weeks in a coma and left Simon with nerve damage in his right arm. It was then that they both put in for retirement, realizing just how much they had to lose now that they had each other.

This time, Simon reached out with his left arm, grasping at bundles of fabric that had been pushed to the back of the shelf. The silky material slid across his fingertips as he struggled to find purchase on one of the straps they were tied up with. With a final stretch, he got a good grip, hauling them towards the front of the shelf.

The slight hyperextension of his shoulder was enough to aggravate the old wound, the muscle spasming in response. All at once, the sleeping bags fell from the shelf and his grip on the ladder gave out, sending him tumbling to the floor.

“Simon!” In a flash Johnny had ditched the box, sliding next to Simon. Thankfully, the Brit had landed on top of the sleeping bags. He was silent for a moment before a bright grin stretched across his face, accompanied by his deep laugh.

“Wha-” Johnny was quickly cut off, Simon’s strong hands guiding him to rest in his lap.

“I’m okay, doll… maybe just a little bruised up,” Simon’s honey-brown eyes sparkled in the dim light of the closet, locked on the still bewildered face of his lover. Calloused hands reached up to cup Johnny’s face. “You okay?”

“Bloody hell… ye scared the piss outta me, Simon Riley!” Though Johnny’s tone was scolding, he couldn’t hide the smile threatening to take over his features.

“Gotta keep you on your toes somehow, now that you’re old and retired.” There was a sly grin on Simon’s face as he gave Johnny’s hips a gentle squeeze.

“Oh, piss off!” Johnny grumbled, pushing himself off of Simon’s lap before offering the Brit a hand up. Johnny collected the discarded bin as Simon gathered up the sleeping bags, both heading back towards the living room. “Besides, ye cannae say I’m the old one when ye cannae even stand on a ladder.”

Simon took the opportunity to toss one of the sleeping bags at the Scot, grinning as it bounced off his back. Johnny stumbled forward. “Hey!”

“Don’t look at me– it was Bubbles and Casper!” Simon fluttered his lashes and gave a soft, innocent smile, shrugging towards the fish tank as he tossed the other sleeping bag onto the couch.

“Bubbles and Casper, my arse,” Johnny grumbled, tossing the other sleeping bag to the couch.

-----

Johnny pulled the last few blankets from the dryer, having taken the opportunity to finally give them a good wash, and brought them to the living room. A bright laugh was ripped from his lips as he watched Simon struggle to manage the guest mattress by himself, eventually settling to drop it on the floor and push it the rest of the way. They planned to spend the evening snuggled up in front of the fire, just in case they did lose power.

“Ye could've asked if ye needed a hand, love,” Johnny teased, tossing the stack of warm blankets onto the mattress, now situated in front of the roaring fireplace. Simon threw himself into the warm pile without hesitation, immediately snuggling up like a cat.

“Thanks, Johnny, have a good night!” He pulled his favorite blanket from the pile, tucking it up under his chin.

“Oh no ye don’t! Ye promised we’d go outside and make snowmen!” Johnny pounced on the mattress, swiping the blanket away and grabbing Simon's chin, tilting his face upwards to look him in the eye. “Unless ye lied to me, Simon Riley…”

“Lie? To you? I would never, I’m offended you’d even think that.” Quickly, Simon leaned up, capturing Johnny’s lips in a soft kiss. He then reached down to give Johnny a quick smack on his ass. “Go grab our jackets from the bin, I’ll grab your boots.”

“On it, sir!” Johnny gave him a quick kiss in return before heading to collect their coats.

In no time, the boys were bundled up, donning their old insulated jackets, the white and grey camo pattern worn away in a few spots from the years of good use.

Simon kneeled down to tie Johnny’s boots, wordlessly grabbing his leg and placing the Scot’s foot on his thigh. Fingers slipped into a familiar rhythm, weaving the lace through the last few hooks before pulling tight, a sturdy knot securing it all in place.

Johnny watched, a faint blush creeping up his neck, still amazed to see this side of Simon. The side that was always taking care of him, putting him first– one of the thousands of reasons he loved the man before him.

The Scot was out the door first, practically vibrating out of his skin as he waited at the top of the stairs for Simon. Simon had seen Johnny excited plenty of times, but this was different– more innocent, more childlike– and Simon couldn’t get enough. The way Johnny’s smile stretched all the way to his eyes, alight with pure, unbridled joy. The way he had planned everything out from the moment they got the weather warning.

The Brit tugged on his coat, the weight settling firmly on his shoulders, a remnant of their past life. “Down boy, I’m right here,” Simon chuckled, slotting his hand into Johnny’s as the Scot immediately started down the stairs.

In an instant, Johnny’s foot slipped out from beneath him, his grasp on Simon desperately tightening. Instead of being hauled upright as he had hoped, Simon unwillingly joined him on his downward trajectory. A heap of tangled limbs and snow was how the boys found themselves at the bottom of the stairs.

“Fuckin’ hell…” Simon carefully flexed his hips, trying to stretch out the muscle. “You solid, beautiful?” His voice was low and he reached for Johnny, hand making contact with his shin. Somehow Johnny ended up splayed halfway on top of Simon, his head cradled between the Brit’s shins. Neither boy was injured enough to be worried over, just bruises and scrapes reminiscent of their time in the 141.

“Aye, I’m alright,” Johnny pushed himself off Simon, misjudging the amount of snow and landing face-first in the powder. “Steamin’ bloody jesus!” he sputtered, rolling onto his back and wiping his face.

Simon hauled himself up into a sitting position, forearms resting on knees as he watched Johnny start to squirm in the snow. “Love… did you hit your head on the way down?”

“Awa' an bile yer heid!” Johnny laughed. “‘I’m makin’ a bloody snow angel!” Simon blushed as he finally saw it properly, chuckling to himself.

“C’mon, let’s get you up before you catch a cold and I have to care for you for two weeks.” Simon pushed himself to his feet, holding out a hand for Johnny.

“Caring for me…? Does that include ye in a little nurse’s uniform?” Johnny waggled his eyebrows at the continuously flushing Brit.

“That’s enough!” Simon laughed, somehow turning an even deeper shade of red, and leaned down to haul the Scot up and place him firmly on his feet.

“So that’s a no on wearing a skirt for me?” Johnny fluttered his lashes as he gave Simon his best puppy dog eyes.

Simon hesitated as he brushed the snow off his pants, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. Johnny would have to be blind to not notice Simon's hesitance combined with the way the blush had completely overtaken him. Couldn’t help but imagine the way his pale blushing skin would look in lacey white fabric, cute red ribbons, a short skirt… “That’s not a no!” Johnny exclaimed, cutting his own thoughts off, stumbling a little as he laughed.

Both boys set to creating their snow sculptures, occasionally lobbing a snowball at the other.

“Si!” Johnny was beaming as he stepped aside, revealing a rather proper-looking snowman, three round globes of snow piled high, blue scarf wrapped around its neck, rocks making up its face, complete with a snow baseball cap.

“Is that… is that Gaz…?”

A deep laugh erupts from Simon’s chest as Johnny proudly nods.

“Aye, it is! What did ye make, love?” The Scot moved closer to Simon, trying to understand what the boxy form before him was. There was a series of wide rectangles stacked one atop the other, a small downed branch poking out the shorter side of the stack of the rectangles.

“It's a uh… I made a tank. Figure you wanna use a ground assault this time instead of demolitions though…” Before the Brit had even finished his joke, Johnny was launching himself through the air, directly on top of the pile of snow. He landed with a puff of snow up into the air, legs dangling out of what was once the side of the tank.

With a huff and shrug of his shoulders, Simon joined Johnny in the snow, a hand planted on either side of his face, leaning over him. He took a moment to admire Johnny, the flush to his cheeks, the sparkle in his eyes, his bright laugh, the little white flecks of snow on his lashes, everything he had ever dreamed of and more. Simon pulled his glove off with his teeth, gently cupping Johnny’s face.

“You know how much I love you, Johnny?” His voice was soft, breath condensing in the air with each word.

“Aye, ah think ah do, but I’ll never say no to hearing it again…” Simon’s hand felt so soft on his face, despite the callouses and years of scaring, it was one of his favorite things.

“I love you more than the moon loves the sun, Johnny. I love you more than the waves love the shore… I love you more than I love breathing, John MacTavish. I will ‘till the day I die.��� He leaned down, lips slotting perfectly against the Scot’s. Soft and sweet and filled with so much love it made Johnny’s heart feel like it was about to burst.

“Ah love you so damn much, Simon Riley.” He eagerly reciprocated, hands wrapping around Simon’s waist, sliding down past his hips, resting with a firm grip on his ass, pulling him closer.

By the time they untangled themselves from each other’s arms, neither man could deny the cold was starting to get to them. Simon’s fingers started to feel more than just the regular level of icyness for this time of year. Johnny slipped his arm around Simon’s waist, attempting to take some of the weight off his bad knee– the slip down the stairs seemed to have taken more of a toll than he first realized.

“I’ve got you, doll.” Simon slipped his arm around Johnny, basically shouldering all of the smaller man’s weight as they all but hobbled up the stairs.

“We make a right lousy pair, don’t we?” Johnny chuckled as Simon pushed the front door open.

“Are you calling me lousy? I’m wounded!” Simon feigned a hurt expression, his hand dramatically over his heart. As had become routine for the pair, Simon kneeled down, fingers deftly undoing Johnny’s laces before undoing his own. The old well-worn boots were discarded by the door, snow-covered jackets were tossed over hooks on the wall.

“Wounded and dramatic as ever, Lt. Ahm going to make some hot chocolate, should I add bourbon in yers, love?” Johnny was already halfway into the kitchen, making a mental note to stop at the pantry to grab the brown sugar, chocolate, and cocoa powder.

“Fuck yes, doll,” the Brit called out, peeling off towards the living room and swiping his lighter from the table near the entryway as he went. He set to making up the mattress, Johnny’s favorite sheets under layers upon layers of soft blankets. One of Johnny’s favorite candles was lit and Simon slipped off to the bedroom to grab his book and the Scot’s sketchbook.

By the time Simon made it to the kitchen, Johnny was leaning over an old, dusty cookbook, spatula in hand as milk heated on the stove. The Brit threaded his arms around Johnny’s waist, resting his chin on the Scot’s shoulder.

“Hey… you didn’t tell me you got the good chocolate…” Simon placed a gentle kiss below Johnny’s ear, hand sneaking forward towards the cutting board.

“Oh no ye don’t!” Johnny exclaimed, smacking the back of Simon’s hand with the spatula. “That chocolate was damn near 30 pounds and ye will not touch any!”

“Selfish bastard,” Simon grumbled, placing his hand back around Johnny’s waist.

“If ye cannae behave then ye can get gone from here!” The Brit smirked at Johnny’s challenge, an opportunity to get back at the Scot’s teasing about a nurse’s uniform. He let his cold fingertips slip beneath the warm material of Johnny’s shirt, beginning to trace delicate patterns into his skin.

“I can be good for you, promise,” Simon whispered in Johnny’s ear, lips just barely grazing the sensitive skin. Simon could feel the shiver that ran down Johnny’s spine.

“Simon…” A breathless moan escaped Johnny’s lips, and he had to press one hand into the counter to hold himself up on suddenly shaky legs.

“Hmm…? Something wrong, doll?” Simon’s voice had dropped deeper, rumbling through Johnny’s chest. He let a hand wander down the front of Johnny’s thigh, squeezing the firm muscle.

“You… Please, Si… cannae focus like this…” Johnny tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, desperately trying to contain another moan and focus on the recipe in front of him.

“Oh, but I think you can, doll. Used to be able to handle all that flirting in the field… don’t tell me you’ve gone soft on me…” his lips traced down Johnny’s neck, settling in the crook, teeth scraping along sensitive skin, lips living behind a light pink mark.

“We… Later Si… Ah– ah swear, please…” The Scot’s head dropped back onto Simon’s chest as his knees went weak, neck fully exposed as Simon held him up.

Simon smirked and nipped at his neck again, one hand sliding up to grasp Johnny’s chin, guiding him to refocus on the stove, “Focus, beautiful.” In a flash Simon had disappeared from behind the Scot, seating himself at the bar with his book already open in front of him. “Be a good boy, Johnny.”

Johnny gripped the counter, knuckles white, taking a few steadying breaths. He glared back at Simon for a moment before resuming his task of following his gran’s hot chocolate recipe. He could occasionally feel the weight of Simon’s stare, particularly on his ass as he worked.

After a few minutes of silence, Simon looked up as a steaming mug slid into his peripheral. “Yer favorite bourbon in it, like ye like,” Johnny kissed Simon’s cheek as he headed towards the living room, his own steaming mug cradled in his grasp.

Johnny couldn’t help the soft blush that spread across his cheeks when he noticed the way Simon had prepared the living room. The mattress was piled high with blankets, a roaring fire and his favorite candle filling the entire space with warmth. Old Man was curled up in the armchair, halfway sitting on top of his sketchbook.

Johnny lowered himself down onto the mattress, setting his mug on the coffee table Simon had moved to the side. “C’mon handsome, yer not gonna leave me all alone here, are ye?”

Simon chuckled and shook his head, mirroring Johnny's movements from mere moments before. Johnny tugged the Brit closer, smiling as he rested his head on his chest. “As much as ‘m not a fan of the cold, I wish we got snow like this a little more often…”

“Aye, would be nice. ‘Specially if it meant getting to keep ye all bundled up and wrapped up in my arms like this more…” Johnny placed a soft kiss on the top of Simon’s head, pulling him ever so slightly closer.

Simon hummed, tucking his head into Johnny’s chest, relishing in the warmth of their bodies together. Johnny had become his safe space, his anchor. No matter how good or bad the day was, Johnny was there. The last time Simon felt this loved was when he was young, wrapped up in his mother’s arms. Johnny was there, every nightmare or panic attack, he was there, holding him tight, holding him together. No matter how much Simon fucked up, Johnny was there. He hoped Johnny knew that Simon would burn the world down if he asked, and would stop at nothing to take care of him.

Johnny carded his fingers through Simon’s hair, eyes tracing over the sharp features of his face. He knew he was lucky to get to see and know this side of Simon– he thanked whoever was above everyday for the opportunity. The man so soft and sweet in his arms had come so far from who he was when they first met. He had worked so hard and Johnny was more proud than he knew how to express. Hoped Simon saw it in every cup of tea Johnny made for him, every candy bar he picked up on grocery runs, every forehead kiss. Hoped Simon knew how hard he was trying too, how much he cared and valued the trust he put in him. Hoped Simon knew how grateful he was for him too, the effortless way the Brit was able to hold him together like it was the easiest thing in the world.

They watched the snowfall for hours, big, fluffy white flakes pilling ever higher and higher. The fire roared on, keeping all 5 inhabitants of the Riley-MacTavish house plenty warm.

At some point, the boys slipped between blankets, soft kisses littered across flush skin, hands pulling bodies ever closer. And when the heat got too much between them, if they stripped down and carried on then that was between them and no one else.