#and by bitch i mean juice carton

[everythingseasoning]

MINORS DNI. Minors do not interact. 18+ only

Geto x Reader enemies to lovers smut fic !!

Listen with: I can fix him (no really I can)

Tags: Geto x afab reader, Smut, Geto is a tortured poet, pouty boy who needs a lot of healing, time skip, growth, reconnection, delicious, emotional smut

Warnings: Geto isn’t respectful of reader’s ‘go away’ and a somewhat toxic Geto in the beginning // reader is fucking mean at first, too. // Note that I did not stay in character for Geto. xxoo

“What are you cooking?” A deep voice calls out, rough from hours and hours of deep sleep.

“Jesus Christ you scared me!” you exclaim, turning to your left to see your roommate’s hookup of the week leaning on her door. Great. You feel your eyes do an invisible roll into the back of your head as you drink in the sight of the most notorious, smart, tortured poet in school.

Tall, long ebony locks, and well built. His snake tattoo slithers up his arm in black ink, his muscles framed even by his loose black shirt.

“Geto,” you say flatly.

Out of everyone, your roommate had to sleep with him. The rumors of his playboy tendencies swirl in your mind, and you’re grateful for the fact that your roommate was at least not looking for anything serious, recalling your conversation with them about how they would be hooking up with people just for fun throughout the semester. You wouldn’t want them to get hurt by this self-absorbed enigma.

“What are you doing here?” you half groan, before going back to cooking your oatmeal. The stove radiates wonderful heat in the chilly wintry morning.

Geto chuckles, “Surprised you didn’t wake up during it last night,” he says cheekily whilst walking over to your left side. He bends perpendicular to the ground, opening your fridge to look inside for something. You glance over to your side, seeing Geto pull out an almost empty juice carton, drink the rest of it, and close the fridge afterwards. You scoff as you turn your focus back to your oatmeal.

Unfortunately, Geto doesn’t leave you alone. He waltzes behind you, to the other side of you, and then leans on the counter, watching you cook your breakfast.

“You don’t have any real food in here.” He says, standing close to you, his dark brown eyes trained on you like two endless pools of flirtatious melancholy. “Do you even eat?”

You feel your cheeks heat up at Geto’s close proximity. Your eyes dart quickly from the oatmeal to the spoon you’re holding, and you stir the meal vigorously in your anxiety.

“Yes, I do eat! Use your eyes,” you huff, glancing into Geto’s hooded gaze briefly, before you point dramatically to the oatmeal you’re cooking.

“And,” you say, “if you’re so concerned about food, you could have brought some, too,” you retort. Part of you knows you’re being a bitch, but with how flustered you are, you don’t know how to act.

A smirk appears on Geto’s face as he notices your reaction to him being close. He chuckles deeply, amused.

“But why would I do that when it’s so much more fun to raid your fridge?”

Geto takes a stride closer to you and he peers into the pot of oatmeal. You feel the sweet relief of warmth radiating off of his body as his chin graces your shoulder, his smirk growing.

“I wouldn’t eat this though,” he says, wrinkling his nose.

You shrug, and Geto moves away. The heat in your cheeks doesn’t go away though.

“Didn’t you just fuck my roommate last night?” Your words cut through the atmosphere sharply.

Geto’s smirk widens even more, amused by how annoyed you seemed.

“Yeah, I did.”

He pauses.

“Jealous?”

Geto’s voice is smooth and held in a cocky tone.

“No, not jealous,” you say curtly, starting to get genuinely bugged by his arrogant behavior.

The yellow mixing spoon churns in the oatmeal before you stop your ministrations, setting the spoon down on a plate as you move to the cupboard and pull out some seeds for the oatmeal.

“You probably have an STD from how reckless you are,” you say nonchalantly, stirring in the seeds. The green pumpkin seeds disperse into the beige oats along with the chia seeds.

A smile appears on Geto’s face as he listened to your insult. He moves closer to you, and your heart almost bursts out of your chest as Geto rests his chin on your shoulder, feeling the weight of it.

“Someone’s a little feisty today~” Geto’s plush lips brush your ear and you shudder slightly. You swear that you feel his smile grow bigger.

“But don’t worry, I always use protection. Gotta protect what can make a woman feel,” his voice rumbles, deep and melodic, “good,” he whispers.

You can feel a heat and need bloom in between your legs, and silently curse at yourself for growing desperate.

You open your mouth to retort, but all that comes out is, “G-geto.” You feel his chin tilt on your shoulder so that he can gaze into your eyes better.

“Hm?”

You inhale sharply before breaking away again, moving to the fridge to get berries this time.

He chuckles at how small your voice is.

“What’s wrong? Can’t handle me being this close to you?” He says playfully, taking a step back and you can breathe again. He stands beside you now as you grab the berries.

As you move back to the stove, Geto’s gaze follows you. He’s leaned his sturdy body against the countertop, turned to face your direction so he can watch you even as you move around him. His eyes linger on your body, taking you in intently.

He couldn’t help himself from feeling a buzz in his cock, you looked cute all flustered like that. And you felt soft. So soft that it drove him crazy.

‘I have to keep my eyes off of him’ you think silently. You can’t risk eye contact. You’re in dangerous waters, the heat in between your legs fogging your brain. One wrong move, and who knows? You might be his second fuck in the span of 12 hours.

You move stiffly, robotically, picking out some of the blackberries and putting them in a bowl. As you turn the faucet on to wash the berries, you can feel Geto’s stare still burning into you.

He watches you intently with a smirk on his face, noticing how you try not to look at him. Geto’s eyes narrow in amusement— he couldn’t help but tease you a bit more.

“Ignore me all you want, baby. I know you want me~”

“I don’t want you, I want your stupid body,” you retort without thinking, before sharply glaring at him. “It’s lust, not love. It means nothing,” you spit out, looking back at your berries as you cup the rim of the bowl, slowly pouring the water out.

Geto simply chuckles at your response, amused by your honesty.

“That’s a good girl, admit what you really want~”

A single blackberry falls from between your hands, and you wince say it thunks into the sink. ‘Embarrassing!’ You scream internally.

“That’s cute baby~” He says, in a playful tone. He leans closer to you, his chest now pressing lightly against your back, the smell of musk and clean laundry wafting into your senses.

You’re going dizzy.

Geto smirks again, watching intently as you struggle to pour out the remaining drops of water, your heart hammering out of your chest.

Geto’s smooth voice fills the silence again as he plays with a lock of your hair, tugging it gently. “Lust, not love… Your blunt nature is refreshing. But be careful with how honest you are darling, you might make me even more interested in you~”

You can feel the electricity thrumming on your skin as Geto’s muscular chest grazes the back of your loose t shirt. You’re suddenly hyper aware of your nipples protruding from the fabric. Had you known your roomie’s hookup would be here this morning, you would have worn a bra.

And it sucks that the one guy on campus that you’d been lusting over was ever so sharp. Geto could tell something was off. You were even more flustered than before. Your body tensing up as his chest pressed harder into to your back. Geto takes in a breath through his nose, exhaling all breathy and deep, half moaning.

His hands gently come up to rest on your hips, his thumbs tracing small circles gently on your sides. A small whimper escapes your mouth when he touches you directly on the skin for the first time.

Smirking, his body pressed against yours in an almost suffocating embrace, Geto speaks in a low, sultry voice, “Baby…. Why are you so flustered? Your body is all tense…”

Geto teases you with his words, his soft touches. Above your hips, his calloused pads move down further—calloused from what? His guitar?—fuck it was so sexy— you feel Geto’s fingers move dangerously close to the aching parts of you. Your skin jumps and twitches from his touch— and you curse yourself for being so desperate and touch starved.

“So sensitive….” He murmurs, voice smooth in your ear.

You curse yourself for the timing of this. Your roommate sure as hell had been getting action, but you? You hadn’t touched another person’s body in many, many months. And the consequences were crawling up your skin now in short zaps of electricity.

One of Geto’s hands slips under the hem of your shirt, plunging down smoothly so that his fingers gently trace along your panty line, gently stroking your skin.

“It’s cute. You’re so needy baby… all for me heh…. Such beautiful skin…. So soft….”

And it feels so good when Geto’s lips comes down to your shoulder— his canines come down gently into your neck, catching the fabric of your shirt—

and that’s when you finally break free.

This is not the person you would let touch you after all these years.

“No-“ you choke out, yanking out from Geto’s grasp. You’re breathing is heavy, coming out in pants, lust clouding your eyes as you try to compose yourself.

“I’m hungry,” you say, shakily.

“I need to eat— need to fucking finish making my damn breakfast, and—” you say, bitterness tinging your voice as pull your gaze off of Geto’s red, red lips,

“Let’s say I let you fuck me. Then what? You’re happy. You got to bust a nut. But I’m left over here feeling used and empty.”

You narrow your eyes, speaking with conviction. “That’s. Not. Happening.”

Geto had of course let you break free from his grasp, watching as you tried to compose yourself, seeing your eyes full of want as you spoke.

“Why baby…. Are you already thinking of after we have fun?”

What a babbling idiot.

Geto takes a step closer to you, his eyes locked firmly on yours.

“Careful baby… I can hear the want in your voice… Just tell me what you really want, I’ll satisfy you… just give in...”

Your lid blows.

“God damn it, Geto. You’re fucking pathetic,” you hiss, pissed off that he’s disregarding my boundaries. “I said no. So drop it. If you manage to be a good friend first, maybe I would’ve considered it—“ you pause briefly, the gears in your head cranking.

I know that I would have let Geto touch me, if we’d had been friends first. If I trusted him.

“—But you are just a simple, selfish, horny man. And you’ll find another pretty girl to fuck by the afternoon. So why are you chasing me? To prove something to yourself? And then what? The second you have had me, you’ll cast me away like a toy you’re no longer are entertained by.”

Your words are laced with anger, but buried deep inside you, pain pulses deep in your heart.

Ouch. Geto reels in surprise. Your words hurts him somewhere deep, deep down inside. He wasn’t expecting you to get so mad at him. Taking in a deep breath, Geto’s expression falters as your words start to ring true…

“You think I’m pathetic….?” He asks.

Shit. It just slipped out of him. A stupid, stupid, vulnerable little sentence— worse— a question. Why was he seeking validation from you?

He hates how he actually cared about what you, a stranger, thought of him.

Your eyes flash with determined spite. A moment passes. You notice Geto has gone quiet, and seize the opportunity. “You’re actually weak,” you breathe out. “Aren’t you?”

Hurt crosses Geto’s face and you feel a flicker of something— a faint spark of pity— but you keep talking anyway.

“You’re just a shallow, empty man who is insecure because you have no personality outside of sex… isn’t that right, Geto?” you finish, your tone surprisingly light at the end. Entirely mockingly so.

He doesn’t say anything immediately, eyes on yours as he listens to his name spoken from your lips. He hates how it was so soothing to hear you say it.

Stepping closer to you, standing right in front of you, Geto’s eyes search yours, looking for any sign of weakness, any indication that you didn’t mean what you said about him.

There is none.

He grits his teeth, your words stung even more than before, that painful ache in his chest growing stronger. He wonders if you had indeed spoken the truth. But that didn’t matter. He couldn’t stand feeling so weak.

“And if that’s true? What then? What does it matter?” Geto says in a defensive tone, trying to ignore the pang in his chest as he spoke.

His wall was back up. But the image of Geto’s stunned face is seared into your memory.

Your eyes soften, the anger drained into a tired frustration, and moreover, pity and guilt.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have— I just was so mad that you disrespected my boundaries when I’d clearly told you no. …But two wrongs don’t make a right. You didn’t deserve that outburst, I’m sorry…” you say, more waves of guilt washing through you. The whole situation was just so complicated and you hated being in it, frustration and hurt and remorse coursing through your blood.

Sensing your gentleness, Geto tries to keep the usual cocky smirk on his face, trying to maintain the confident façade he was so used to having around girls. But he could feel it slipping, leading into vulnerability, as you stare at him with sincere eyes.

…God, he hates it. He hates how your voice sounded so soft… and how his chest was suddenly tight.

But then you do something strange. Something unexpected. —You grab his hand, and you hug him.

In that moment, all of Geto’s cockiness and anger deflates out of him, leaving him wounded, stray, hurting.

And he starts crying, silently, into your body as you hold him.

-

*this is a teaser for the whole fic :). In the full fic, smut will happen in one of the chapters*

—> m’s JJK masterlist link

-

AN: WRITING IS FARRRR FROM PERFECT but i desired to feed you all today. Hope you enjoyed!! You can comment to let me know if you want the full version or wanna be tagged!

AN pt II: you can’t fix a man like this ladies. I’m telling you now. This is fiction for a reason. Hey Alexa, play ‘I can fix him (no really I can)’

[valdomarx]

It begins, innocently enough, with a carton of orange juice.

Roy has never cared for the stuff, but Jamie is round at his house at 6am every morning after training, and he loves it. Roy figures he might as well make breakfast for them both while they're there, so the next time he's at the supermarket he picks up a carton and shoves it into the fridge.

And there's really no point in Jamie going home to shower before team training, is there? That would be a waste of everyone's time, so he showers at Roy's. Soon enough Roy's bathroom is full of expensive hair conditioner and elaborate skincare products and the inevitable cans of Lynx which start to crowd his shelves, but whatever.

And then Jamie starts turning up for weekly Lust Conquers All watch parties, and it's not quite clear how that happened. Roy wouldn't admit it on pain of death, but he likes having an excuse to watch the show and having someone to bitch about the terrible contestants and the unfair eliminations with.

And Jamie is right there, so it would be rude not to offer him dinner, wouldn't it? Roy likes to cook, and it's just as easy to cook for two as for one. Then suddenly Roy's kitchen cupboards are full of Jamie's favourite brands of soy sauce and Tabasco and rice cakes, but that's okay because at least now Roy can keep an eye on his diet.

And when Jamie is round and it's getting late and they've got 4am training tomorrow, he might as well stay the night. So what was Roy's guest room becomes Jamie's room. And if, on occasion, when they're both knackered from a hard match and ready to pass out, Jamie collapses into Roy's bed, tucked up next to him, snuffling and cuddly and infuriatingly, wonderfully Jamie, then that's no one's business but theirs.

Roy keeps finding bright orange joggers and graffiti-covered hoodies in his laundry pile, but Jamie still complains of having nothing to wear, so Roy tosses him one of his old Chelsea shirts. Then somehow Roy's entire cupboard full of old kits becomes Jamie's wardrobe, and Roy gets kind of used to waking up to find Jamie in the kitchen, making coffee, with KENT printed across his back.

At some point it's been weeks since Jamie was at his place, and Roy caved ages ago and gave Jamie his own set of keys, and it would be odd, frankly, for him not to be here, in Roy's space, sprawling on Roy's sofa and eating Roy's leftovers, and dropping his feet into Roy's lap with that ridiculous grin that makes the corners of Roy's mouth twitch upwards involuntarily.

"Marry me." Roy blurts it out, some instinct rising up directly from the very centre of his chest and exiting via his mouth with no input whatsoever from his brain.

"The fuck?" Jamie blinks at him, slowly, like he's approaching a wounded animal.

"Oh." Roy thinks fast. "It's a joke. Because you're always here, right, and we spend all this time together, and we're practically married." He forces what he hopes is a jovial smile. "Haha?"

Jamie gives him an odd look. "Riiiight."

Roy fiddles with the TV remote, then glances over at Jamie, then looks away again, then looks back. Jamie is still staring at him, a look of utter bafflement on his face. "I mean." Roy's leg bounces anxiously. "Unless... ?"

[daryascurse]

He Makes His Hot Roommate Suck Him Off!! ~ Eren Jaeger x Reader

In which Eren Jaeger is a pretty scummy roommate...

. . .“I think watching pοrn on the couch is a reasonable thing to bitch about,” you snap. “And yeah. I don’t need to see your dick out on my pillows.”

“I put your pillows on the chair,” Eren says with a short nod of his chin towards the other side of the living room. “You sure, though? I’ve never heard any complaints about my dick.” . . .

version one (scummy eren) || version two (scummy reader)

reader: POV second person, AFAB (*non-specified in part 1, will be specified in part 2), nongendered pronouns ⟡ content: modern AU, scummy sIutty roommate Eren, use of "bitch" as a verb, pοrn, oraI (male recieving), mentions of weed, mutual pining ⟡ wordcount: ~3.3k ⟡ ao3 link ⟡ recommended mood playlist: red velvet cake

ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴍᴅɴɪ. I have a very strict adult-only interaction policy. Ageless, blank, and clearly minor-run blogs that interact will be blocked. If you have questions about what that means, please read the byf in my pinned post.

Author's note: This is my first time trying an AU as someone who usually is glued to canon..! It's a fever dream that hit me drifting off to sleep the other night and has consumed me since. I almost wanted to make it so Mikasa and Armin are the pοrnstars he’s watching but I don’t want it taken as an insult to them (just a fun little hey-there) so I did not.

“Ah! Oh my god yes – fuck – fuck! ”

The sound of it is unmistakable, embarrassingly unmistakable as you stand frozen in the foyer with shoes half-kicked off. You squeeze your eyes closed and wordlessly thank whatever cosmic force gave you the good sense not to invite your friend into your home today. Because your roommate, Eren Jaeger, is slouched in the corner of the sofa watching pοrn on his phone. 

Normally, he’s just a kinda bad housemate. He isn’t the worst you’ve had. That honor goes to that girl from freshman year who puked in your closet and wasn’t shy about bringing home guys from the bar on school nights. But he’s comparable. Eren drinks the juice straight from the carton and puts it back in the refrigerator empty. He lets dirty dishes soak a day too long. He takes over the common area like a second bedroom, scowling at the television as his thumbs scuttle across the controller. He’s asked you to leave the small lodging on multiple occasions for privacy reasons. But, all of that being said, Eren pays rent on time. And, on those sheepish occasions you’ve locked yourself out, he only rolls his eyes when he opens the door and quickly goes back to muttering into his headset. 

And up until now, you thought he made up for it enough by being eye candy.

“Oh - mmm- fuck yes right there - ”

The back of his head is to you, hair slipping from his loose knot over his hunched shoulders. His elbow is pressed in the back of the couch in a way that must be uncomfortable, but it’s the perfect angle to pinch his phone in one hand and hold it up to his face. The other hand is out of sight from where you stand. The glare on the screen hides whatever he’s watching so avidly that he didn’t hear you open the door.

Unless he didn’t mind you opening the door.

“Dude,” you say, and your voice stutters. What the fuck can you even say to - ? Your mind goes fully blank. You try again. “What the fuck are you doing?”

That works.

“Oh,” Eren says by means of greeting without even turning his head. “I’m not gonna jizz all over the sofa, don’t worry. Nowhere close yet.”

You push your shoes to the side with your feet. “Better not,” you say, with all the disdain you can muster. “But man - come on. Are you… actually doing what I think you’re doing?”

He lifts his phone up and waggles it, the visual jostling before your eyes. 

“Why?”

“‘S comfy out here.”

You stay, bound by your horror, in the foyer. “Do you do - this,” you say, almost stammering over your words, “regularly?”

“I don’t have a set schedule,” Eren says. “But yeah, sometimes, if you’re out of the house for a while.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Your words are punctuated by tinny “mmm - yeah - ah!” sounds from the phone.

Eren sighs irritably, and finally turns his head to the side. His eyebrows are slack, his cheekbones only barely starting to flush as he fixes that heavy-lidded gaze on you. “Are you going to stand there and bitch all day?”

“I think it’s a pretty reasonable thing to bitch about,” you snap. “And yeah. I don’t need to see your dick out on my pillows.”

“I put your pillows on the chair,” Eren says with a short nod of his chin towards the other side of the living room. “You sure, though? I’ve never heard any complaints about my dick.”

It’s so absurd you snort. “Don’t be a dumbass,” you say. “Don’t joke around.”

“Not joking,” Eren says, and he lowers the phone. There’s a light clack on the screen as he mutes or pauses the video. He pushes his elbow further into the couch, angling to look at you straight-on past the thin slope of his nose. “C’mere.”

You realize you’re breathing out of your mouth.

This is not what you expected. Actually – it’s not what you expected now. Because the tension has been there. Of course it has been. Every time he slouches shirtless into the kitchen with a threadbare towel ruffling his hair dry over his shoulders, you pointedly stare at anything that isn’t the lean muscle of his stomach. At least once a month, he knocks on your door for a trivial manner when you’d pointedly announced you’re spending the night in the bubble bath. Sometimes girls stay over after house parties. You can’t deny pausing at the wall to hear how he groans. You wonder if the performance changes once you slam the front door shut on your way to seek refuge elsewhere.

All things you’d only admitted to your best friends over bathroom counters sworn to secrecy and vodka sodas. Things fantasized about in half-jokes, and nothing you would have thought come to fruition on this random afternoon.

Oh. He absolutely did this on purpose. You wonder what expression is on your face, because Eren just looks back at you with eyebrows lifting at the corner.

You’re padding across the carpet, stepping over the mess of his socks, the lid of the silver grinder. The rest of the contraption sits open on the coffee table with glinting spikes winking at you. You frown at the dirty pipe next to it.

“Oh, you’re just stoned,” you say dryly.

“I’m actually not,” Eren says, throwing your tone back at you in a mocking half-question. That’s another familiar little crack of tension – the conversations so automatically sardonic you can barely keep your thighs from trembling and lips from curving into a grin. You smirk back absently even now, despite the electricity shuddering through the room and you turn towards the couch.

Your eyes had been a little too fixed on the pipe, your brain chanting something about the ashes, the filth, the need to just soak the stupid thing in rubbing alcohol to get it back to whatever color it should be, and it takes a half-moment to register him. Eren’s hands are at the waistband of his forest green gym shorts. He looks up at you with those eyes deeper than a summer storm, a curve of hair falling in front of his forehead and joining those strands cascading around his neck as he hunches against the arm of the sofa. The hem of his black hoodie has scrunched higher up his stomach below his phone resting precariously, to reveal a snaking ribcage of hair branching down to where his thumbs meet the shorts. His forearms are tense, red aching at the tight cuffs of his rolled-up sleeves.

“Take it off, then,” you hear yourself say, and Eren’s lips twitch in a smile.

His thumbs curve, knees drawing up as he lifts his hips. He hesitates a moment, as if daring either of you to chicken out, and then it’s as if you imagined the pause because he’s pulling those green mesh shorts down. He kicks them off the cushions and you sway to avoid the motion as his heather grey boxes follow in a tangle. Eren pushes his hips down on the sofa, sprawling to take up the entire length. His foot braces against the back of the couch, and his other settles on the floor. He rolls his knee out, framing a perfect patch of rug for you to kneel on.

Well.

Your shitty roommate is right. Who could have any complaints about his cock?

Eren’s eyes burn on you as you hesitate between his sprawled legs, adjusting your knees on the carpet, your elbows against the couch. He doesn’t reach forward to guide you, to pump his already half-hard shaft in his palm. He shrugs his shoulders and picks up the phone again, tapping the screen again.

“Mmm- that feels so good, yeah!”

You lick your bottom lip. Eren has the phone lifted in a way that blocks his face from you, or yours from him. You pause another second and raise your hand to him.

When you wrap your fingers around his cock, the taunt muscles of his stomach tense. His Adam’s apple shivers in a swallow. Your fingertips squeeze at his firmness, your thumb slowly sliding hider as your fist rises up. You pause, running your thumb around the tip. A bead of slick precum slides where your skin meets his.

It’s that oily slip that makes this whole thing actually real at last, makes the breath hitch in your throat and makes some pressure beat hard bellow your belly. Your knees push into the carpet. You adjust your other forearm on the cushions for balance, leaning in closer as you flutter in a delicate circle again across his sensitive head.

“Fuck,” Eren says as if the word bursts from him.

“Ohh yeah!”

The air is cut with heavy breath and the cries from his phone.

Your hand is moving without thinking, your eyes hazy and locked on your first. His cock is actually fucking pretty, smooth, large, the vein fluttering under your palm rising with urgency. You bend into the couch, reaching forward with your other hand and stretching to support it, giving a brief dancing squeeze of your fingers. You withdraw your dominant hand and raise it to your lips, drawing a breath, and spitting messily.

“Mmm!”

“Oh – ” but the breath comes out of you as you bring your hand webbed with silver down to his cock again. Eren’s skin is silky under your touch as you smear up and down him, rubbing up to his head again and mixing your fluids together. And Eren groans, a low, musical sound that breaks at the end.

That’s an aching you haven’t heard behind walls and closed doors. You tense your hand and pump faster.

“Suck it,” Eren says suddenly in another strangled blurt, interrupting the moans of the pοrnstars.

You look up, and his phone has slipped in his palm, showing the darkening of his dilating pupils as he stares at you with a thirst. His cheeks are flushed high. Drool involuntarily pools over your tongue and you look down and hunch yourself closer, as his knee straightens on the floor besides you to open more space.

Kneeling before Eren, you can track the contours of his skin in a way more intimate than just roommates should normally know. His thigh muscles are taunt, strong, dusted with wiry hairs that gather closer and closer the higher they climb. The shadow of his hipbones flexes as he shifts into the couch. And you look up again, just as Eren reaches out with his hand not gripping the phone.

“Wow – wow oh fuck, I’m so close - !”

More hair has fallen loose from the bun, enough for his hair to be half-down and framing the strong angle of his jaw like a dark halo. His eyes are sunken deep, and staring at you, wide. You keep eye contact, leaning on your elbow, and sink your mouth onto his cock.

Eren’s hand closes at the back of your head, and your arm slides into his leg, a warm, strong barrier pushing your bodies together in this collapsed tableau of fallen angels. Your first stroke of your tongue is light and short, your second dragging a little longer, before your lean for the and take his head fully in a long, languid, slurping swirl.

He tastes sweeter, cleaner, than you would have thought.

The sounds suddenly cut off as the video ends, the last smack of your tongue loud in the abrupt silence. Saliva drips from your mouth as you drag your tongue down to his balls in a fat swipe, and back up.

“Fuck,” Eren mutters. His hand drops, shifts his back and hips rock into the couch as he takes the phone in both hands again. You adjust your fingers, sliding at his base and rubbing along the shaft neglected by your mouth.

There’s a muffled click-click-click and the volume rises. It sounds like he found a new video, this one full of a gruff masculinity and a gasping crescendo.

“You like that? You like how that tastes?”

“Ohmygod yes, yes, I love it mmm – ”

Your eyes slip down, demurely, and then with a breath squeeze shut and force yourself lower.

“Mmph,” comes from your lungs, and Eren moans in turn.

Your lips are dancing, tongue licking continuously in desperate sucks down his cock. Eren is breathing shallowly, little gasps coming from him. His elbow angles into the couch, dipping the cushion below you to the side, and you can hear the phone speaker almost directly above your head. He must be staring at the screen, his chest rising and falling rapidly that you can feel through him.

“Yes I love that - oh - fuck me harder - ”

And of your own body, cramped against the cushions and the couch frame? Every time you can tell Eren responds to your motions, you clench the delicate muscles of your cunt – and every time you can tell that he’s responding to the stupid video he’s watching, it makes you rush and pulse. Sweat prickles at your shoulders, across your forehead. Your body is tense with arousal, the groans slipping from your lips aching whimpers.

Actually, some of your sounds might as well be coming from the phone too.

Eren throbs in your mouth, and you force your head all the way down his cock. He hits the back of your throat and you clench your fingers into a fist that scratches at the rough cushions. You inhale, closing your cheeks into a hollow suck and bidding him further down your throat.

“Oh, oh – god damn – ” Eren says, and his voice is absolutely raw. “Oh, fuck.”

“You like that?” the man on the phone says again.

Eren’s thighs turn towards you as you pull yourself up, gasping for breath and trying not to cough. Water pricks at the corner of your eyes. His eyes are low, staring at the screen with a slack mouth and harsh breath.

You lean, lowering yourself again, running your tongue in light agitation over and over his tip again and again before widening your jaws and taking him in again.

“Mmmm,” you whimper in a suffocated tone around him, pushing your hips harder into the floor.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eren groans. “Yeah, right there.”

His other falls hand on the back of your head again – not to push, but, to brace, as you feel his hand steel himself. You take him fully out of your mouth again to lick his length and Eren’s hand moves with you with each dip and turn of your head, hesitating as you take another shuddering breath and then locking in again when you go back down.

You can feel it, you don’t need the cues of the video, or even Eren’s own beautifully desperate voice. He’s close, filling your mouth, your senses, as your hand slides up and over and over where your lips just can’t reach in these faster motions. Breathing is harder, the shallow reserves of air coming shorter and shorter.

“Fuck – I’m gonna cum – ”

The words were the woman’s, not Eren’s, but he groans a harsh, ragged, “fuck” in turn.

He tightens his stomach muscles, turning into a half-crunch as his hips thrust up pathetically, helplessly, in a primal attempt to fuck into your mouth. You’re so painfully aware of your own hips shifting in response, your neglected cunt wet in response as you choke and gurgle sloppily around him.

And then Eren cries out your name, your name so anguished on his lips –

So much sharper, so much louder, than anything you’ve heard come from his room –

The tears stream from your eyes as Eren gives one last thrust of his hips into your mouth. His hand is strong at the back of your head, the taste of him suddenly more and more bitter. It’s something you feel through him. You freeze, your hand holding him and lips sealed around as he comes, hot and sharp to the back of your throat.

“Mm,” you choke.

“Oh, almost, almost,” Eren groans, and tenses out another spurt.

His cock gives a last twitch in your mouth as your tongue gently washes around him as your lips release. You guide him out and swallow again, and again, every last bit of flavor dancing around your mouth.

“Fuck,” Eren says.

Your breaths are a cacophony together.

“Oh – oh – oh!” the artificial orgasm screams from his phone continuously. You clear your throat, and give an inadvertent cough. Eren hurriedly pushes at the screen until silence falls over the room again. He looks at you, and smirks his usual grin, but something about it lacks the familiar sass.

“You know, you look good down there,” Eren says.

A thrill goes through you, and you try to play off the shudder of glee.

“Ew. Cheesy. Stop watching so much pοrn,” you say with a not-too withering glare. You reach behind you, fumbling for his shorts to wipe your lips with one leg, your eyes with the other.

“No,” Eren says, and the word stutters short as he cuts himself off with a deep, sucking breath. You look up at him. And to your surprise he looks so kind somehow for a moment – some innocent yearning beaming in his eyes breaking down whatever walls he’s built around him; walls that you somehow hadn’t realized before now had been carefully kept high and strong.

“I. I want to – ”

And in that moment, the phone rings a shrill tone.

“Oh, shit,” Eren says, staring at it.

“Great timing,” you say as you feel your heart drop into your stomach. “Saved by the bell, you could say.”

“No, no,” Eren says with a sigh and a glare at the screen. “It’s my brother, and – I mean, if he’s calling, it could be important.”

“I get it,” you say, waving your hand and sitting back on the carpet, wrapping your arms around your knees and ignoring both the ache pushing at your cunt and adrenaline racing through your veins. “It’s okay.”

You toss the shorts in your hand at him, and Eren takes them in one hand, absently tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder. It nestles in his hoodie as he speaks a greeting into the phone, eyes settling somewhere in the middle distance. He sits up, feet on the floor, and begins to pull them on.

“Hey, Zeke. What’s up?”

You turn your head, giving him a moment of privacy that feels strangely appropriate, for all of that that just transpired. There’s a groan of the couch cushions as Eren stands. You see his boxers, abandoned on the carpet, and feel an involuntary grin break across your face.

What a turn of events.

You rock forward on your knees again. Eren walks behind the couch, his voice carrying the conversation into the kitchen. You reach forward on the coffee table, finding a mailer advertisement under the dirty pipe, a marker. Flipping the paper over to the blank side, you scrawl a quick message.

It’s harder to stand than it should be. Your bones creak as they unfold from that hunch into the sofa, your muscles and hips weak with desire. But you make it swiftly to the kitchen, where Eren has the fridge open. He leans on the door, phone still in the crook of his shoulder, one sleeve slumped down to his hand and the other still pushed up to his elbow as he unscrews a bottle of cranberry juice. He casts his eyes to you as he lifts the bottle to his lips and drinks, listening to his brother.

All you do is slap the paper to the refrigerator with the first magnet your fingers encounter, and walk to your room without a second glance back.

My turn next.

.

Author's note 2: So I actually wanted this to be MEANER! I wanted MEAN SCUMMY EREN! But I think it ended up being a little soft… and maybe for this, it worked the best? Please please let me know what you think!! If there's interest, I would absolutely do a part 2 in inverse where it's actually Reader being the naughty roommate? :)

[beautiful-and-terrible]

“falling into place”

mike schmidt x reader

summary: “You meet Mike Schmidt under rather unfortunate circumstances. Luckily, he's a decent guy, and tries to make it up to you. Besides, who could say no to those big brown puppy-dog eyes?”

tags: Slow-burn, domestic, hurt/comfort, gradual friends-to-lovers, whatever the opposite of a meet-cute is, because mike is a disaster, sub!mike, dom!reader, eventual smut

Part 2

also available on my Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51690952/chapters/130675165

A sigh escaped your lips as you watched raindrops race down the window. It was a Friday afternoon, and you were an hour away from being done with your shift at your town’s local, run-down grocery store. You were working the cash register - a mindless, repetitive task that sucked the soul out of you, but it paid the bills. You didn’t mind talking to customers, when they were polite. It was usually hit or miss with the older customers. They never seemed to understand that you couldn’t accept expired coupons. Or that eggs really were $1.05, yes even for the non-organic ones.

This particular afternoon was going especially poorly. You had two people refuse to pay their bills and just walk out with their groceries, you had a screaming child in line with her mother who kept begging you to just “give the kid a piece of candy for free”, and at least three older men had told you “you’d do your job a lot better if you smiled.”

By the last hour of your shift, you were on the verge of a breakdown. Tears pricked your eyes - your feet hurt, your back ached, and your heart was still tender from being chewed out by your manager for letting those two people walk out without paying. As if you, a minimum wage employee, had the authority or skills necessary to stop two shoplifters. And besides, you didn’t really think stealing essential things like food warranted arrest or reprimand, anyway.

So that’s why when a particularly mean old bat who smelled like mothballs and cat piss yelled at you for not scanning her groceries quickly enough, you finally snapped. You slowly put down the fifth carton of prune juice you had scanned, untied your apron that had your name tag pinned on it, and let it drop to the ground.

You looked the old woman in the eyes, flipped her off, and walked out. As you passed your manager on your way to the front door, you flipped him off, too. The way his face went beet red with rage would remain in your brain as one of the funniest things you’d ever seen. You were pretty sure there was a vein in his temple about to burst.

So now you had no job. Great. You sighed, putting your head in your hands as you stood under the covered walkway that led into the store. You stood like that for a long time, just letting the reality wash over you. You knew you wouldn’t be able to cry in public, but as soon as you got home you would put on your softest hoodie and sweatpants, and have a good cry about how shit your life had been these past few months. You steeled yourself, raising your head and starting to walk towards your car.

You were about half way out into the rainy parking lot, holding your jacket above your head, which blocked your peripheral view, when you were suddenly on the hard, wet ground and your vision pulsed with white stars. It felt like you had been sucker-punched by the Hulk. You looked around dazedly, trying to figure out why you were suddenly on the ground.

Headlights beamed directly at face level as you sat up, rubbing your head. You brought your hand away - no blood, at least. But your wrist hurt like a fucking bitch. The throbbing pain got worse by the second - each beat of your heart caused the flesh around your wrist to swell up like a balloon. Or at least that’s what it felt like.

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry, are you okay? I looked away for a second and you came out of nowhere I’m so fucking sorry-”

You looked up to see two very distressed, very pretty hazel-brown eyes staring down at you. A man with a mellow voice was apologizing profusely, attempting to help you stand up. You could only nod dumbly, holding out a hand placatingly.

“I’m fine, I think… my wrist really hurts,” you pouted, trying not to sound like a child but your day had been so dogshit that your usual barriers were crumbling easier than normal.

“Let me take you to the Urgent Care, it’s the least I can do…” he trailed off, grabbing you by both elbows to help you up off the wet ground. You shivered, from the cold rain dripping down your neck and from the adrenaline of the moment starting to wear off. The man helped you into the passenger seat of his car and got in the drivers side.

You looked down at your wrist - it was already swollen. Your lip started to tremble, and big, fat tears started to leak from your eyes. You sniffled, which caught the guys attention.

“Oh, hey, don’t cry. I’m sure it’s just sprained. And I’ll even try to help pay for your cast or whatever… not that I have any extra money but that’s the right thing to do…” he murmured under his breath. You glanced at him and gave him a half smile, wiping the tears off your face.

“Don’t worry about that. I just appreciate the ride. I’ve had a pretty shit day - getting hit by a car was just the cherry on top.

“Yeah, I know about shit days,” he said simply, then winced, looking in the rearview mirror. “Sorry, Abs. A pretty crap day, is what I meant.”

You turned around, confused. In the back seat was a girl of about 11 or 12, looking sullenly out the window. She shrugged noncommittally.

“Hi,” you said softly. The girl glanced at you, frowned, and turned more toward the direction of the window. You looked at the guy, who just sighed.

“That’s my sister, Abby. She’s having a crap day, too.”

“Dang. The three of us should start a club,” you said, which made the guy let out a snort of laughter. You looked at him, surprised by the display of mirth.

“So… what’s your name?” he asked, stopping at a red light. You told him your name, which he repeated before saying, “Nice to meet you. I’m Mike.”

[starry-aquila]

idc how old i am, chocolate milk will always be sooo good (def not said as im sipping a carton of chocolate milk)

omg and apple juice?? i love apple juice.

see, a lot of people that know me irl think because i am who i am, im a dehydrated little bitch, but actually i am quite hydrated. i have figured out that apparently as long as i have a straw, i just won’t stop drinking.

i don’t mean like i’ll drink the whole thing in one go, i mean i’ll absentmindedly be drinking until i run out then automatically go get a refill and do it all over again

weird

anyway, i love chocolate milk and apple juice.

[metaladam]

" ... mhm. yeah, well, i was more concerned with whole ranting to thin air kerfuffle you had going on there, love. "

" Oh right you mean my balls being empty along with the orange juice carton! Yeah its a bitch! I have certain taste you know? Lots of bitch ass hoes don't like pulp but I love it. Now it cant be TOO chunky cause that's just weird. At that point I'd eat an orange, but man when its like little chunks and you sip it casually that shit pops!

I don't think I need vitamin C at all but I'll tell you one thing at this rate I am made of that stuff! I love orange juice, I drink it all the time! I drink orange juice in the morning, I drink orange juice in the afternoon, I drink orange juice in the evening, I drink orange juice in the civil AND the nautical twilight, I drink orange juice at dusk, I drink orange juice at dawn, if orange juice was a lady she'd be the sexiest chick ever, if orange juice was a man I'd swallow my pride and just go gay, like so hard id suck on that big fucking cock and spread his ass cheeks and give that puckered little orange flavored hole a lick. I fucking love orange juice bro. Its so fucking good, I think I'll even write a song about it! "

" Blood orange mornings Bitter and sweet Squeeze out the darkness Take a seat Pulp and tang A vibrant affair All I need in this world My OJ affair

Freshly squeezed rebellion A rebel's delight Citrus coursing through my veins Keeping me alive The glass is my weapon The straw is my tongue All I drink is orange juice I don't need no whiskey No fancy champagne Just give me a carton That's all in my brain The pulp runs deep It's a wild addiction Don't try to stop me This is my affliction!"

[thinkaboutmeff7au]

flash time 110

1997.

I go into the kitchen for a drink. Seph turns down the music a little bit now that we’re not actively fucking. I still feel hazy and loose. It’s comfortable. It’s like I’m living in a warm sock.

I’m shirtless with just my dog-tags and boxer briefs on. I get distracted with the carton of apple juice in my hand and drag my fingertips down my chest. Fuck. I gotta set a timer so I can go at it again. Or maybe Seph will pass out and I’ll just jerk off...

I take a long drink. I can feel it go down my throat into my stomach. Right now, the feeling is delightful. I was so thirsty. Fuck. I go to put the juice down and nearly miss the counter. Back out...

Out in the living room, Seph is sprawled out on the couch with a towel over his crotch. His eyes are half open, slits that reveal the glow of his turquoise eyes.

It’s electric.

Ten minutes ago, he was fucking me like that in an old company shirt, cut off like a croptop. The crease in his brow from concentration, the glow in his eyes as he pushed

into

me

over

and over.

“Mmm.” I shudder.

I can just see his gaze flick over to me. “What?”

“Nothin’,” I reply with a smirk. “You’re hot.”

He makes a noise that would have probably been taken like a snort, but he barely moves. “I know,” he says.

I pace around. I’m starting to get hungry. On the couch, Seph and I share a brainwave and his hand falls on his stomach. “I’m hungry,” he voices.

I’m going to tease him. “You mean you didn’t eat before you came over?” I say. I strut over and cross my arms, shaking my head. “Rookie mistake.”

The room spins a bit, but I stay on my feet. When I open my eyes, he’s got that “fuck you” look on his face that I relish. He’s too lost in it to make any moves, but I can imagine him giving me the bird.

I bend over and grab the bowl from beside my storage chest and sacred beanbag throne. If I focus, I can get the bag of weed too. “Tell you what,” I say. “Smoke this with me, and we’ll get delivery.”

“Gen,” he groans. “Why...”

“I don’t have any fuckin’ food here, you know that.” I pack the bowl clumsily, but well. This isn’t my first time around. “So, what do you want?”

He stares up at the ceiling. “Anything...at this point.”

“Pizza?”

“Not pizza.”

“That’s not anything, then.”

“Pedantic son of a bitch.”

I grin. I light the bowl and take the first hit, smoke clouding my face. “How about Mexican? I know a good spot.”

“They...deliver?”

“No.” I pass him the bowl. He stares at me, then begrudgingly takes it. “But I can bribe a Turk who will.”

Seph cocks his head. “Huh?”

“Smoke.” I wave my hand at him and stumble back toward the kitchen. “I got this.”

My phone sits on the edge of the counter, and I pick up the whole thing and lean against the door frame. I cradle the receiver on my shoulder and dial. I’ve got a sticky note taped to it with numbers I need to remember. Angeal, Sephiroth, HQ, Gillian (scratched out, now defunct), Seph’s mom...and one last number, the one I’m dialing.

Ring, ring.

He picks up pretty readily. “Y’ello?” he answers.

“Yo, Reno,” I say. “Alone on a Friday night?”

“Dude, c’mon,” he whines. “I got stood up last week, I’m taking it easy.”

I was half expecting him to say he was dying his hair this week. I’ve seen him more than once in Wall Market trying to pick up women of the night. If he’s down there, there’s no way that he’s straight. Not sure if he knows it or not.

“Cool, then you can do me a favor,” I say.

“I ain’t doing shit for you.”

“I’ll pay you $200 to go over to The Taqueria and get me two take out bags full of whatever they’ve got.”

“Jesus Christ...” He’s thinking about it, though. His voice drops to a murmur. “...only if you throw me a joint.”

“Get your own fuckin’ dealer!” The thought of melted cheese over ground beef and spices is making me salivate though. “Fine, I’ll roll you something.”

“Done. I’m coming over now.”

“No, no, no, you get paid when you have the goods.”

“And make me pay for it? Fuck off.”

Shit, forgot about that. “Right. Fine, come over.”

He hangs up on me. I kick our strewn clothes over behind the couch, out of sight of the door. I toss Seph a shirt. “Put something on, our delivery boy’s coming over.”

He took another hit while I wasn’t looking, so he’s in very slow motion. I don’t know if he was even listening. I grab my jeans and yank them on, just as he starts knocking on my door.

“One sec,” I say. “Did you run over?”

“Dude, I’m just down the hall.”

My wallet’s still in there, and I dig it out and position myself in the doorway so I can hide Seph. He will not want to be reminded of this on Monday.

I open the door. It should be a week where he does his hair, his roots are showing. He grins. “Yo,” he says, then coughs. “Man, you really...know how to party, huh?”

I roll my eyes and shove some bills in his hand. “Get some of everything, that should be enough,” I say. “If you’re quick, you can keep the change.”

“Sure. Sector 3 right?”

“Yup.”

He attempts to peer around me. “Oh, hey--”

I block his view. I don’t want to imagine Seph’s fury if Reno saw his ass out in my apartment. “Don’t even think about it,” I say.

“Ooookay, later!”

I slam the door in his face as he leaves. As I spin and lean against it, Seph does have a shirt on, but as predicted, his dick is out. His eyes are sewed shut and head back toward the ceiling.

“Fuck...” he whispers.

Yeah, he’s not on this planet.

“Food’ll be here soon,” I say.

“Mmmm....”

I stare at his now flaccid dick. Wonder if he’s ready to get it up again...

(G.)

[zombified-queer]

Bitches will sit down and say "Hmm I will only read one chapter of House of Leaves"¹ and see nothing wrong with that.

¹ It's me. I'm bitches.²

² Sunday morning after an hour spent going "Damn it's already noon, I should get out of bed." I roll out of my sheets and grab the carton of iced coffee from the fridge. Snowman mug. Iced honey bun, the sort that's a one-handed sticky-mouth affair. Applesauce. Note the mold on the foil lid. Peaches instead, packed in juice.

Reading at the kitchen table, eyes on the page even when sipping coffee or chewing through those rough peach edges. Johnny Truant does some cool shit. Lude's List makes me cringe. The wordplay reminds me of how I described House of Leaves as "the sort of book who wants to kill you so so badly" and "the kind of shit for masochists who know what the word semiotics means."

I look up. It's almost 2pm. I've made it through maybe ten pages.

I have to do my fucking laundry.

[jrueships]

your mind ... impenetrable

no further comment

;))

i Know . * makes a This (that^^^) Face

[gaarfielf]

i get so annoyed every time i see people on reddit trying to use literal cases of homelessness in the r/choosingbeggar forum like its ‘ridiculous’ how a person in poverty requests on their signs you do not give them water as if it is not completely reasonable that during their hardships they’d prefer if you want to do a genuinely good deed, you will not give them something they can literally get for free

[neopuppy]

Hot Sauce (M). Part 2.

Preview: “Why don’t you just fuck all his friends? If he really was that heart broken over you moving away back then, he’ll go mental.” your friend suggests. You stare into the screen, swiveling back and forth in your computer chair.

“Have you seen his friends? That would be too easy..” you smirk to yourself toying with the idea.

Pairing: NCT Dream 00’ line x female reader

Word Count: 3k

Genre: PWP, M/F, Step brother Jeno AU, parents are miraculously never home, enemies to fucking.

Warnings: Jeno’s very mean- very, name calling, explicit language, degradation, smut

Smut Warning: inappropriate stretching, mirror sex, cum shot

Hot Sauce: Intro—>

Hot Sauce: Part 1—>

You stand in front the coffee maker watching the black liquid slowly drip into your mug. Jeno hadn’t come back last night after storming off. Only feeling slightly annoyed as you stretch your back out. Haechan really knew how to hit all the right spots, no complaints. Even if you didn’t get the pleasure of seeing the aftermath of Jeno’s anger, it was worth it for a good dick down.

The front door slams open, ricochetting against the wall at the entrance. You silently listen to Jeno’s huffs and puffs, stirring creamer into your coffee.

Jeno walks into the kitchen, foot pausing mid-air when he see’s you. He clenches his jaw looking away, moving past you to the fridge. You sip the hot caffeine, blowing over it to cool it down. He’s wearing different clothes now, sweats and a tshirt. Hair washed indicating he took a shower somewhere. Jeno uncaps the orange juice, drinking it straight out of the bottle. He wipes at his mouth, annoyance obvious across his features. He aggressively shuts the fridge door, milk carton in hand.

“Stop fucking staring at me.” He mumbles, opening the cabinet to grab a bowl. You take this time to admire over his broad back, muscles flexing under his shirt.

“So you get to watch me like some disgusting desperate pervert, but I get yelled at for glancing at you?” You scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself, just wanted to make sure you hadn’t popped a vessel.”

Jeno slams the carton down on the counter, gripping on to the edge. His arms twitching and flexing, veins bulging over the muscles.

“You think I wanted to see that? Don’t flatter yourself.” He turns toward you, glaring down. “Haechan’s disgusting, he’ll fuck anything with a pulse. Not surprised you gave it up that easily.” Jeno looks you up and down, lip curled to the side. “You should be grateful anyone wants to even touch you.”

Your jaw weakens, opening up in shock. You set down your mug in the sink, morning coffee completely ruined.

Jeno moves in front of you placing his hands down on the counter behind you, locking you against the sink. You take a deep breath in looking up at him.

“Whatever it is you think you’re doing.. stop.” His voice quiet but stern, eyes dark looking into yours.

“What am I doing exactly?” You question, pressing your lower back into the edge behind you. Your thighs squeezing together at the proximity, annoyed you find him this hot when he’s being so mean.

“You know it’s always bros before hoes right? I don’t expect Haechan to keep his dick in his pants when a whore’s throwing it in his face for free.” He spits down at you.

“..I didn’t think you’d be so into that” you smirk, trying to control your breathing as your heart rate speeds up. The heat climbing up your stomach to your chest. “..but I guess when all you can do is watch, and not touch.” You reach up to tap at Jeno’s chin. His hand flies up, gripping your wrist before you can.

“Don’t touch me, bitch.” He shoves your arm away, moving back. Turning on his foot, stomping out of the kitchen toward the stairs. Bowl of cereal and carton of milk long forgotten.

—————————————————————————

“Let’s sit here, then you can tell me all the details about Haechan.” Your friend wiggles her brows, settling down on the bleachers in the field.

“I told you, it was great. Decent sized cock, hot kisser. You should definitely go for it.” You laugh opening up a bag of chips.

“I might, that was fast even for you. Which one of them are you going for next?” She scans over the field where the soccer team is starting to warm up with stretches. “Oh, speaking of..” she nudges you nodding ahead toward where Jeno and Jaemin stand in conversation.

“Not that one, I never see him without Jeno. He might be more difficult to get to than Renjun. Oh! Actually I passed by the ballet studio today. They’re holding auditions soon for new dancers. I have a little experience.” You shrug digging into your chips. “Enough to at least try and bullshit my way into that studio. I watched his stories yesterday, he’s always there.”

“You’re researching these guys harder than you did for your paper.” She snorts, biting over her lip as more built muscular thighs get exposed on the field.

“Hey! It was your idea! Besides.. it’s kind of fun. Jeno get’s all angry, calls me names..” you mumble off watching him kick a ball back and forth with Jaemin.

“Gross, you totally have a thing for your step brother.” She grimaces with a nod glancing at Jeno. “He’s really hot, I guess it’s understandable.”

“Shut up, it’s not like I knew my mom was gonna go marry his dad of all people. You don’t have to see him walking around shirtless all day either. It’s not fair...” you sigh, crumbling up your empty bag of snacks.

“You think.. maybe he’s like that because he’s still into you? I mean, I’ve seen your childhood photos” she makes a face continuing. “Like no offense but you weren’t very cute.. don’t get me wrong! You’re super sexy now! But like.. if he was in love with you back thennn..”

“Ok rude, I was a kid!” You sit up straight startled, eyes still lingering over Jeno. He turns his head, looking directly at you. Almost as if he could sense you talking about him. “I don’t know..” you keep eye contact with Jeno, he wipes over his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. His face expressionless, only breaking to look away when Jaemin nudges him.

“I kind of hope he still is..” you look away mumbling to yourself.

—————————————————————————

“Hi! excuse me, is this where the auditions are going to be held next week?” You asks popping your head into the dance studios door. Renjun stops mid-arabesque. Aggravation covering his features, placing hands over his hips.

“Yes, but right now is my scheduled practice time. You can come back in an hour when I’m done.” He snaps out quickly, placing a black strand of hair behind his ear over the bleached white blonde.

“Oh I’m so sorry!” You mentally roll your eyes stepping in. “Wait...I...oh my god pardon me! Renjun...oh I’m so embarrassed..” you hide your face behind your hands trying to come off flustered as you step further in.

“Uh, do I know you?” He quirks a brow up squinting.

“Oh no no, I’m just, I really admire you.. I mean I’ve watched you perform before! When Nutcracker was going last year, ah you were so amazing. When you portrayed him coming to life, I was so...I was so moved” you gush out, not really lying. You had attended a few runnings of the show.

“Oh..” Renjun’s frame relaxes, hands falling off his hips. “Thank You.. you saw that?” He continues squinting at you. “Do I know you really?..”

“I don’t believe we’ve met before actually..” you start, Renjun’s finger lifting with realization.

“Jeno’s step sister!” he snaps his thumb.

“For some reason I’d rather be known as a whore around campus instead of that.” You groan out shaking your head. Renjun pauses, mouth opening and closing.

“Uh..” he scratches at the back of his neck. “I should uhm, get back to practicing..”

“Oh yea, I’m soo sorry. Is it ok if I just warm up in the corner over here? I promise I won’t bother you. Also I would love to watch you work..” you smile shyly. Renjun’s cheeks darken, already a shade of pink from dancing.

“Yea that’s not a problem..” he mutters, corners of his lip lifting shyly. You smile with a nod, skipping over to the back of the room setting your bag down against the mirror.

You eye over Renjun’s backside as he stretches his arms and neck before centering back into position. He really did have such good form for a male dancer.

You unzip your hoodie, making sure to have worn an old leotard for this that fit you all too tight now. Moving your sweats off next and grabbing a new pair of ballet slippers. This plan better go through, having to spend money just to hopefully seduce a guy.

Renjun leaps up into the air beating his feet together, landing a little sloppy. He groans, rubbing his palms over his eyes.

“Hope I’m not making you nervous..” you quietly voice out, getting close to the floor stretching your hips. You spread your legs against the wall, leaning forward. One thing a year of ballet taught you was how to stay flexible at least.

“No it’s...ah I just, been frustrated lately..” Renjun replies, chugging down water.

“What’s distracting you?..if you don’t mind me asking” you move onto you back, placing your legs against the mirror. Renjun double takes, eyes quickly scanning your body, not fast enough for you to not notice though.

“Just uh, been stressed with work and assignments piling up on top of trying to practice.” Renjun’s eyes drift across your chest, over your legs. “Another year, new competition you know.. You have beautiful feet by the way.”

“Oh, these abused things?” You smile at him upside down, still on your back. Not an unusual compliment between dancers. You flex your foot out, ankle cracking. “Ugh I’m so tight, I’m gonna have to stretch for hours everyday before this audition.”

“You need help?” Renjun asks walking over, leaning against the mirror finishing his water.

“Oh I don’t want to bother you with this” you adjust, lifting one of your legs against your chest with your knee bent in half. His eyes look down between your thighs, averting away with a gulp.

“Eh, it’s ok, will help me clear my mind.” Renjun moves down onto his knees near you. “Is it your hamstrings?”

“Yea” you hiss trying to straighten out the leg you’re holding. “I guess it’s been awhile since anyone’s...helped me with this positi..I mean uh.. stretch” you mumble under your breath. Renjun nods, hand hovering above the back of your thigh.

“Let me know if it hurts..” Renjun sets his hand down, hot over your thin sheer tights. He slides it up slowly, up the back of your knee to the top of your calve. “I’m gonna push..” he leans in, hovering above you, black hair falling over his eye. You swallow nodding rapidly.

“Feels good.. you can push more” you look over his face, licking over your lips. Renjun nods pressing your leg down further against your chest. Your eyes blink rapidly, body heating up under him. Renjun’s hips hovering above yours, placing his other hand on your ankle.

“You’re pretty flexible..” he swallows, neck bobbing, eyes fixated on your leg. You try to nod, eyes squeezing shut letting out a small moan.

“Oh my God sorry, I really feel it now. It burns, that’s good though.. I need it” you voice out brokenly, hamstrings and other parts truly burning up. Renjun nods setting down your leg to his side, grabbing your other ankle. “I’m tighter on this side” you look up at him biting your lip. He picks your leg up, bending at the knee.

“I’ll just have to use more pressure then.” Renjun pushes your leg forward, hips finally leaning against yours. You let out a sigh, shifting around to get some friction between your thighs. Renjun chews over his bottom lip, eyelashes fanning over his cheekbones as he looks down.

“Push harder, I can take it.” You whisper out, his lips purse together nodding. “You know, if you’re stressed and really want to clear your head.. I can help you out in return here.” Renjun’s eyes widen looking down at you, hips jumping forward.

“Fuck I’m sorry I-..” he murmur’s nervously, lifting off your body. Your hand speedily shoots up, wrapping around the back of his neck.

“It’s ok” you sit up on your elbow, close enough to feel his breath on your lips. Renjun huffs in air, looking into your eyes. He lets out a soft sigh, leaning in. Heart shaped lips gently pressing against yours. You break out into a smile, placing your other hand on the front of his neck.

“That soft shit isn’t gonna do anything for you. Fuck me, right here.” Your lips fall into a smirk, Renjun’s eyes widening again.

“In here?” Renjun glances at the clock on the wall quickly. “You know what, I can do that. My friends are never early anyway.” Renjun grabs onto your waist, shoving his mouth back down on yours with more power. His tongue shoving in past your lips, you raise a brow thinking to yourself this could not get more perfect.

You grip at his neck gently, squeezing him between your hands. Renjun slides his hands up your stomach, squeezing down on your breasts. Hands moving up sliding the straps of your leotard off. You gasp into his mouth, tongues fighting each other trying to gain dominance. Renjun squeezes at your breasts, pinching at your nipples. Fingers twisting and rolling them around. You hiss against his lips arching up.

“Mmm I wanna see you” you moan into his lips sitting up. You pull your leotard off the rest of the way, moving to press against the mirror. Sticking your ass out, looking over your shoulder. “Fuck me.”

“Jeeze..” Renjun smooths his hands over your ass, squeezing your hips and thighs. “Is this really happening..”

“Not if you don’t put your cock inside me already.” You smirk, shaking your ass in his hold. Renjun nods, sucking air in through his teeth, hands softly smacking over your backside. He crawls on his knees, pressing up against you. Cloth covered cock hard in his sweats, making space between your ass.

“You want this so badly?” Renjun grips your chin, turning you to face him. Your neck straining in his hold, he digs his nose into your cheek. Hips pushing forward, pushing your pelvis into the mirror.

“Fuck, ugh. I want you inside now! Stuff my pussy full.” You beg shamelessly. Whatever game you were playing at here hardly mattered anymore, desperately needing to feel stretched around Renjun.

He licks over his lips, humming to himself. With his free hand, Renjun slides his cock out, tapping over your rounded cheek. His eyes glance down, cock gliding between your thighs.

“Shit, you’re really wet..” his lips fall open, panting breaths. Dick sliding up and down your core, coating in you.

“Ugh, fuck Renjun please. Please, I wanna make you cum!” You cry out, thighs shaking in anticipation. Renjun moans out, poking at your entrance. His hand dropping from your jaw, grabbing onto your shoulder. He thrust in, slowly easing inside of you. You squeeze your eyes shut, palms flat and sticky with sweat against the mirror.

“Fuck fuck fuck.. you feel so tight.” Renjun grinds his teeth, hips jerking with every inch gliding in.

“Ugh, stretch me out. Stretch my pussy out.” You smirk at him. Renjun’s hand grips at your shoulder, shoving into you the rest of the way with that, hissing in air.

You roll your hips around, adjusting to his size quickly, comfortable from the night before thanks to Haechan. His eyes flutter watching you bounce back against him, jaw hung open in amazement. His other hand releases your hip, smoothing up your back to the front of your neck.

“Watch me fuck you.” He thrust up into you hard, squeezing at your neck. You gasp in air, eyes averting to the mirror. Renjun pulls his hips back, slamming forward into you. Working up into a fast and brutal pace quickly. His eyes locked on yours in the reflection.

Your mouth falls open, breathing against the mirror. Moist fog clouding up your vision, panting loudly. Skin clapping down on skin rapidly.

“Fuck Renjun! Yes! Fuck me like a fucking whore!” You cry out, slapping your hand down on the mirror repeatedly. He screams out a groan, head burying in between your shoulder blades.

He pulls back, thrusting in hard, hips relentlessly pounding up into you. Renjun’s hot heavy breathing covering the back of your neck. Force behind you so powerful, pushing your upper body to press against the mirror. Your eyes rolling back, silently screaming out.

Renjun’s hands move down to grip your waist. Hips continuously thrusting up into you, ass clapping back against him. His shirt covered in your wetness by now. Your incessant moans and cries filling out the dance studio, between Renjun’s sounds of exertion. He pulls back again, angling his hips differently. Cock reaching further inside you, your walls squeezing down hard.

“FUCKK!” You shout out, watching his concentrated expression in the mirror, brows furrowed together painfully. Renjun’s dick continues to jab at that spot deep inside you, wet walls squeezing down on him with every movement.

“Cum around my cock” he grunts out, short of breath. “Fuck I’m not gonna last long” Renjun pulls back, thrusting in hard with purpose. Your body smashing against the mirror with each brutal thrust, sweat soaked marks left all over. You tremble, eyes squeezing shut as your hole convulses around his length. Your forehead pressing against the mirror, long wails and cries falling from your lips. Watching your core squeeze down around his cock in the reflection.

Renjun’s hips slow to a halt, face contorting in his reflection as he stares down soaking in the way you clamp around him. You pant out loudly catching your breath.

“Pull out” you mumble, reaching back slapping at his hip. He grimaces with a nod, sliding out with a moan. Dick painfully hard, balls full, ready to burst. You turn around, laying back against the mirror. Renjun slowly lifts up to stand, squeezing at the base of his dick. You drop your mouth open, tongue falling out, begging. He drops his forehead against the mirror, stroking over his cock fiercely.

“Fuck, fuck!” Renjun’s eyes squeeze shut, crinkling up in the corners. Pretty mouth hung open releasing pleasured moans. Cum shooting out onto your tongue, chin, dripping down to your chest. You sigh, watching his expression as he comes down from the high of the climax. Swallowing down the cum that landed in your mouth.

“WHAT. THE. FUCK!” A loud voice interrupts your thoughts, door slamming into the wall. Jaemin stood at the studio entrance, dropping his bag down.

Renjun stands up straight, tucking his dick back into his sweats. You sit up, completely on display. Paying attention to how Jaemin’s eyes take in the scene before him, spending extra time lingering over you. Renjun pulls you up quickly, grabbing your hoodie to cover you.

“Shit, I’m so sorry. I forgot about the time.” He apologizes picking up your sweats. You smile, zipping up your hood, stretching your arms out.

“Nothing to be sorry about. That was..just what I needed.” You finish with a wink stepping into your sweats he holds open for you.

“Hey dude, the vending machines out of cok-...” another voice enters the room, an all too familiar voice. You smile wider, locking eyes with Jeno. He drops the cans of soda from his hands, loudly banging onto the hardword floor.

“We should do this again sometime.” You grab your bag, leaning in pecking Renjun’s cheek. “I had a lot of fun.”

You wave him off, walking to the exit where Jaemin and Jeno stand dawning two very different expressions. Jaemin still in shock, jaw nearly touching the floor.

Jeno glaring daggers into you, could even swear smoke was fuming out of his ears. You slow down as you pass by him, adjusting your bag.

“That’s two.” You say holding up your middle finger first, slowly lifting your index finger after. “If I’m counting correctly..” you nod to Jaemin, smirking. “One to go” you exit out with a laugh.

Jeno squeezes his fist together, focusing on your hips as you walk away.

Part 3—>

Tag list: @ijuuy @hyucklittles—t

@wanlore @scxrlettkx @lauraneuuh @sunflowerhae @ncttboo @nominsgirl @sweetutopia @unknown5tar @count-your-shadows @lanadreamie @sunshinedhyuck @flower-lise @scruffiejelly @infnteen

[steriotypicaloutlaw]

RE8 characters saying quotes from my friends, family, coworkers, and I

Sal: "I will piss in your pants little man!"

Karl: "Titty bitch"

Karl: "That is, to date, the most idiotic thing that you have ever said to me and somehow it makes me appreciate your existence even less" (To Miranda or Alcina maybe)

Sal: "Get'cha somma that hood-ass seafood!"

Ethan: "And he had a MAAAASSIIIVE COOOOCK!!!"

Angie: "Whoosh! I stole your left testicle!" (Idk, I can just see her saying this)

Donna: "I'm going to try and photograph the gay one."

Alcina: "That's nice dear, let me know how it feels to fail at that just like everything else you do." (To Karl probably)

Karl: "@/Arbys, Just because you call it your "Arby's Sauce" doesn't mean you're going to get me to eat your cum."

Sal: "JFK is the Zodiac Killer, that's why when he was assassinated the zodiac killings stopped and also why they couldn't catch him."

Sal: "I believe in you, Adam Sandler!!!"

Donna: "Gay marriage is a good thing Brian Mother Miranda."

One of Lady D's Daughters maybe: "Jesus Mom said that I need to barricade the doorway and hang them up for a while until I get everything taken care of."

Ethan: "I'm sorry for your experience with the squirrels around the house" (to Karl)

Idk: "Feral squirrels are still wailing and you can sometimes hear them talking about the center of the universe."

Karl: "Ham and turkey, bacon and eggs, gay marriage, it's all good to me"

Alcina: "Jesus Christ Karl is the fifth one I found was a bitter hoe."

Sal: "How's 'bout them biscuits though?!" (After making food for everyone)

Karl: "Heeeey there friend, you dumb! Haha! No brain in head!" (to Sturm or a soldat probably... maybe Alcina)

Miranda: "What the hell does teabag mean? Why are you laughing? Why won't anyone tell me?"

Ethan: "*sigh* No, most seven-year-olds aren't supposed to have mustaches, Emily Rose.."

Sal: "*laughing hysterically* Fucked the corn!!! *continues laughing*"

Chris: "For the longest time I thought Layers Of Fear was a joke game about Shrek. It was a surprise to learn that it was indeed not about Shrek."

Donna: "I am no longer able to stomach apple juice because I drank like 20 of those little carton ones. In the span of 30 minutes."

Angie: "Up until like 3 years ago I didn't know Al Capone was real. I thought he was just a made-up dude from one episode of Soul Eater. I also didn't realize Billy The Kid was real but yk."

Sturm: "Every time someone rings the doorbell, I scream"

Ethan: "idk u very well but u sound like a yeehaw-cowboy"

Alcina: "*shrugs* Idk, could be gayer..."

[goldenraeofsun]

Day 5: Nostalgia

“God, I hate time travel,” Dean grumbles as Cas leads him behind a building to avoid younger versions of Sam and Dean driving in the Impala on their way to the Wallace’s house.

Cas rolls his eyes, zipping up his jacket to ward off the October chill.

“Between this and the skeezy cheerleader witch, this is the worst case.”

Cas resists the urge to roll his eyes again. All it seems to do is encourage Dean’s complaining further. “If you’d rather do research in the motel to confirm our findings-”

“No, no,” Dean waves his suggestion away, “We’ve done the research. You scoped her out with your mojo. We know where the other bitch is hiding. Plus, now I can buy some stocks in Facebook or something.”

“With what money or identity?” Cas says wryly as Dean leads them onto a side street where nobody will notice them disappear.

Cas flies them to the home of a time-travelling witch intent on taking over where Tracy Davis left off. They search the premises thoroughly but don’t find any sign of her. They must have missed her by minutes; Dean pops open her microwave and sniffs at her still-steaming Chinese leftovers. At one quelling look from Cas, Dean reluctantly leaves the carton on the carton on the counter and resumes their search, this time for clues as to her new whereabouts. Cas collects her grimoire and notes while Dean goes for her laptop, and they return the way they came.

“Hopefully Tracy killed the other witch for encroaching her turf,” Dean sighs as he throws the motel keys down on the table and sets her laptop down with a shade more care.

“What do we do now?” Cas asks, flipping through her grimoire.

“Dinner?” Dean proposes hopefully.

Cas frowns. “You ate half a bag of Halloween candy this morning.”

“Dude, that was candy. That doesn’t count.”

“It does count because highly processed sugars shut off your satiety hormones, causing your hypothalamus to-”

“Keep talking medical to me, Dr. Sexy,” Dean says, half-amused, half-exasperated. “Are you gonna come to dinner with me or not?”

The corners of Cas’s mouth twitch. “I certainly know more about modern medicine than Dr. Sexy.”

Dean holds up his hands. “Since I’m pretty sure their ‘content expert’ is someone who killed too many people and got kicked out of med school, yeah, probably. Food?”

Cas flies them to a strip mall restaurant a few minutes away from their motel. “Where did you eat last time?” Cas asks, glancing around the parking lot for the telltale gleam of the Impala.

“At the motel,” Dean says as they walk up to the hostess stand. “Sam was in major research mode.”

Cas relaxes as they get seated and picks up the menu.

“Where are you and Uriel, anyway? The now you, I mean,” Dean clarifies. “Since you probably weren’t waiting out Halloween at CVS.” Dean bites his lip, brow furrowing. “We’d be real screwed if we ran into fully juiced angels.”

“We usually flew back to Heaven,” Cas assures him. “I, as you know, also spent some time at a local playground across from the church.”

Dean grins. “Hey, what if-”

“No.”

“You didn’t even hear me out,” Dean protests.

“I didn’t need to,” Cas says primly as he flips his menu to inspect their vegetarian offerings with minimal interest. “You have a distinctive tone of voice when you’re going to ask me about new sex acts we haven’t tried.”

“C’mon, you can’t know-”

“That you were proposing a threesome, either with my past self or yours?” Cas asks, eyebrows raised.

Dean scowls.

Cas sets his menu down. “As I told you before, it’s too dangerous. You could cause a temporal paradox, and we’d have to send that distress call to Jack, who, as you know, is busy with being God.”

“But you could just neuralyze them after!”

Cas makes a face. “That seems wildly unethical.”

“Hey, speak for yourself,” Dean says, but his tone has lost its previous insistence and turned teasing instead, “No matter what state of mind I’m in, I know I’d be down to get down and dirty with you.”

Cas laughs lightly. “You have such a way with words.”

“It all comes from a place of love,” Dean says with a confidence Cas could have never predicted just a year ago.

Dean brings up the threesome again as he pays for their meal, and Cas shoots him down just as swiftly.

On their way out, Dean insists on stopping by the drug store for yet more candy. Luckily, the strip mall also contains a drug store, so Dean heads inside while a closing flower shop catches Cas’s eye. Dean hardly needs Cas’s help in picking out his preferred combination of chocolate, peanuts, and nougat, so Cas wanders over to the flower shop, inspecting the different plants for something to bide his time.

He runs into Dean coming from the other direction, carrying two to-go coffees in hand.

“Castiel?” he asks, the one word robbing Cas temporarily of speech.

He’d forgotten how Dean used to address him, back in the early days. Before they became friends, before they saved the world, before they loved each other.

But his soul - his soul is the same.

Beautiful because of all the wear and tear and not despite of it. Because the damage tells the story of Dean’s strength, his ability to take the hits and keep going, when lesser men have fallen. His Father’s greatest creation in all of time and space. The only soul in the universe to make an angel fall from grace and rise again, higher than before.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says, valiantly resisting the urge to look behind him to check that his Dean is still out of sight.

“Are you here to drag us outta dodge or-” Dean’s eyes narrow. “What are you wearing?”

“Clothes?” Cas says, nonplussed.

“You ditched the flasher coat?”

Cas scrambles for a lie. “It was dirty.” Thank God, he zipped jacket three quarters of the way up his chest, and he left his flannel (stolen from his Dean’s closet) back at the motel.

Dean’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “Right…” he says, clearly not believing a word. “So what are you doing here, then?”

“Plants,” Cas blurts. “I’m buying plants.”

“Do you… have plants in… Heaven?”

“Yes.”

Dean nods slowly, unable to look away from Cas’s face. “So you figured you’d pick up Audrey II before you blast Pleasant Town off the map?”

Cas frowns. “Why would Heaven need a sentient man-eating plant?”

Dean adopts a matching frown. “You’ve seen Little Shop of Horrors?”

“N - yes,” Cas says, changing his mind mid-word because he can hardly explain Metatron’s pop culture transfer to Dean.

“You’re being weird,” Dean says, brow furrowing as he scans Cas from head to foot, taking in all the changes from the Castiel he saw a few hours ago, “like, extra weird. Even for you.”

“How can you possibly know that?” Cas says, pained and impressed. So young, and already so jaded. “We’ve met on four occasions by this point.”

“Memorable ones,” Dean says, glowering.

Cas holds back his wince. He didn’t see Dean as more than a tool for Heaven back when they first met. Dean was the Righteous Man first, a human being second. “My apologies.”

Whatever Dean was expecting him to say next, it wasn’t that. He straightens. “Dude, did you just apologize to - ?”

“Cas! Where the fuck did you - shit.” His Dean cuts himself off, his approaching footsteps slowing.

Cas grimaces.

Dean drops the coffee. He pulls his gun.

“Woah,” Cas’s Dean says, both hands up, one, of course, laden with a plastic bag full of discount Halloween candy. “This is… not good.”

“Accurate,” Cas grumbles without looking around.

“What the hell is going on?” Dean demands, his gaze flicking between the two of them but lingering on his older self. “Did I time travel again?”

“You you didn’t time travel, but me you did,” his Dean says, lowering his hands and fishing around in his bag. Silently, he tosses Cas a fun sized Almond Joy.

Cas deftly plucks it out of the air and tucks it into his pocket. “Put the gun down, Dean.”

“He’s me?” Dean asks, his expression completely confused. His gun lowers, but he doesn’t stow it away.

“Yes,” Cas says. “From a little more than a decade in the future.”

A beat. “You’re from the future too,” Dean accuses, his eyes narrowing.

“Took me ten goddamn years to get that trenchcoat off him,” his Dean says, helpful as ever. “Worse than Sammy and his blue blanket.”

Cas glares at him. “My coat wasn’t a security blanket.”

“You sure about that? You practically slept in it.”

“I do not sleep.”

“When you did sleep, genius.”

“This is seriously what I get to look forward to?” Dean demands as he slides his gun back into the waistband of his jeans.

His Dean laughs, clapping Cas on the shoulder. “Cas isn’t so bad once he gets the stick out of his ass.”

“And how long does that take?”

“Too long,” his Dean says cheerfully as Cas glares at him.

“Right,” Cas says, mildly irritated that Dean’s prediction of his past horniess failed to materialize. Instead, the younger Dean just seeks to mock him, which Cas really should have seen coming.

Cas steps forward, two fingers raised.

Dean takes a step back. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Wiping your memory,” Cas says. “You’ll forget you ever saw us.”

Dean takes another large step back, hands up. “Hold on.”

“I can’t let you alter the course of events,” Cas says, peeved.

“No - wait.”

Cas glances at his Dean over his shoulder. “I forgot how stubborn you used to be.”

“I didn’t,” his Dean says with a grin.

Cas huffs a loud sigh. “I thought you were more trusting.”

“I’m right here-”

His Dean points out, “I didn’t trust you as far as I could throw you.”

“Hey!”

Cas says, exasperated, “I had just pulled you out of Hell.”

“And in the next second, you threatened to chuck me back in,” his Dean says casually. “Mixed signals like that can give a guy a complex.”

Dean, sporting a massive scowl, crosses his arms over his chest. He announces, “I’ll let you neuralyze me on one condition.”

Behind them, his Dean snorts.

“Where’s Sam?” He swallows. “Does he make it? Ten years in the future?”

“He’s with his girlfriend,” Dean says before Cas can answer, “so he couldn't hop on this case. She got wind of a vamp, and they’re checking it out.”

“Oh,” Dean says, his shoulders sagging with relief. “That’s good.”

“It gets better for you too,” Cas says in a low voice, and he doesn’t need to look behind him to sense his Dean freezing in place. “You have a home. You’re in control of your own life.”

“Even though I’m still palling around with an angel?” Dean shoots back.

His Dean laughs. “‘Palling’ isn’t the word I’d use.”

“Dean,” Cas warns, but his Dean just throws him a look.

“You’re gonna make me forget anyway, what’s the harm, babe?” his Dean says, placing a frankly absurd amount of emphasis on the term of endearment.

Dean’s eyes go wide, and Cas jabs him in the forehead.

“This is all your fault,” Cas says over Dean’s younger body.

Dean frowns down at his unconscious self. “How so?”

“If you didn’t interrupt me-”

“Lemme guess, you could have handled it?” Dean asks rhetorically as Cas maneuvers the younger Dean’s body onto a nearby bench.

“Yes.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean says, eyebrows raising. “What were you talking about before I came on the scene?”

“… Little Shop of Horrors.”

Dean cracks up. “Only you, man. Only you.”

[you-show-me-love]

How Tami Met Mickey

I really just wanted to write a headcanon of when Tami understood Mickey's existence since we were deprived of their interaction in the show okay bye

Tami was going to kill Lip. She was going to kill him and leave Fred on the dirty floor of the Gallagher house and she was going to disappear from their lives, head out west and hide out in a hair salon under a false identity, because Lip swore up and down Fred's teething ring was here somewhere and the kid was screaming his head off and had been for the last hour.

"Where the hell is it?" She whined, feeling like crying herself as she pushed aside random junk on the floor near where they sometimes set up the playpen. 

Mickey descended the stairs into the kitchen, still in his tank top and boxers even though it was well past noon. He grimaced at the sound of the crying baby. 

"Will you shut that kid up? Some of us are trying to sleep." 

Tami rolled her eyes, disrupting her search of the coffee table covered in crayons and paper. She loved Ian, she did, but she couldn't comprehend why the sweetest Gallagher had up and married this surly, foul mouthed convict. She chose to ignore him most of the time, especially after Lip told her he had been in for attempted murder of one of their family members.

"Believe me if I could I would but he's teething and I can't find his teething ring anywhere and Lip said it was here in this mess somewhere..." 

She was rambling, losing her sanity as Fred screamed louder and pulled a fist full of her blonde hair. Maybe Mickey could put her out of her misery since he apparently had no problem killing family members. Afraid to ask in case he took her seriously she shifted Fred to her other hip and pushed her fingers into the couch cushions, trying not to think of what they might come in contact with in the process.

Mickey watched the tall blonde with apathy as he chugged orange juice straight from the carton. He belched loudly and moved back out of sight, running some water and opening the refrigerator. A few more minutes of fruitless searching and Tami decided to give up. She turned to head to the backdoor only to find Mickey there, a wash cloth in hand. She watched, rapt, as Mickey pushed the chilled, damp cloth into Fred's open, wailing mouth, watched as her son clamped down immediately and began to suck. Her ears rang in the blissful silence and she stared at Mickey in awe. 

Mickey wasn't looking at her, he was cradling the back of Fred's head and running his thumb along his baby soft hair, a small almost sad smile on his face.

"How did you know to do that?" Tami couldn't help but ask. 

"My kid used to cry like that, had to keep this shit on standby for him, twenty-four seven."

Mickey seemed to come back to himself, dropping his hand from Fred's head and stepping back from mother and son. He was back up the stairs before Tami couldn't say anything.

==

Tami had stopped by too late to have breakfast with the Gallaghers, Lip giving her the extra hour of much needed sleep after Fred kept her up most of the night. She accepted Franny's hug around her knees and gave Fred a tickle and a kiss to the forehead. He smiled around his squishy teething ring and wiggled in the high chair. 

Debbie paused her cleaning to pull Tami's plate from the microwave and Tami decided to ask Debbie something that had been on her mind since yesterday.

"So, Mickey has a kid?"

Debbie looked up at her, face twisted in confusion, but she nodded. 

"Yeah, Yevgeny. Why?"

Tami didn't know how to answer that. Why did she want to know? Maybe it was because of the obvious.

"But…he's gay."

Debbie rolled her eyes.

"Gay people can have kids." She seethed, indicating to her own mini-me. She shoulder checked Tami on her way upstairs muttering bitch under her breath as she did so.

==

Fred had been just put down and Lip and Tami were laying in bed, trying to decide if they should use this opportunity to fuck or to sleep. Lip made the decision for them when he pulled off his shirt and rolled onto Tami.

They were kissing, hands roaming, but Tami's mind was on someone else entirely. The trail of kisses Lip was leaving down her body stopped as she asked him what had been on her mind.

"So, Mickey has a kid?" 

"Uhhh, yeah." Lip affirmed, looking up at Tami in confusion. "With a Russian hand-whore." He concluded with a light chuckle.

"What?!" Tami sat up, Lip further away from his destination. He sighed and joined her at the head of the bed. 

"You good Tamietti?" Lip asked as he watched his girlfriend's face pass through a range of emotions. She eventually shook her head. Lip licked his lips and leaned closer to her, keeping his voice low even though it was only the two of them.

"Look, it's a touchy subject for Ian and Mickey both. Broke Ian's heart to see him marry her. Then Ian stole the baby-"

"Wait wait wait." Tami interrupted, too loud considering their own sleeping baby was just one room over. "Mickey was married before? Ian stole a baby? What-"

"It's best if you don't know just...don't bring it up okay?"

Tami nodded, accepting a few more soft kisses from Lip before they both settled into bed and fell asleep while they had the chance.

==

Tami couldn't not bring it up, not when Ian was right there, bouncing Fred on his hip and making silly faces. Tami had to get to work but she could spare a moment to ask what had been eating away at her for a week now.

"Ian, can I ask you something about Mickey?"

Ian regarded her hesitantly but nodded. She let out a breath and resolved to satisfy her need to know once and for all.

"He has a kid. He's gay but he has a kid and used to be married to a woman? And you stole his baby? I mean, what is the story here?" She ended with a hysterical giggle, arms smacking against her thighs in exasperation.

Ian went paler than usual, his chin jutting out in a hard line. He stared at his nephew, watched his tiny fingers wrap around one of his own. Tami swallowed at the dark look on Ian's face, sudden regret for not following Lip's advice filling her.

"Back when we were kids Mickey's dad caught us. The homphobic prick beat Mickey bad and forced him to fuck a woman in front of me." Ian's voice was rough as sandpaper only making Tami feel worse.

"Mickey got her knocked up, married her, thought we could still bang in secret, but I took off. I came back and we tried to make it work but then I had a manic episode and took off with Yevgeny. I wanted him to be mine, be ours. My brain just ran away with the idea."

Tami's knees were weak and she backed herself into the nearest chair. She knew about Ian's disorder, but had never witnessed it, never heard them talk about it much at all, and she understood why looking at Ian now, seeing how much guilt and pain he internalized over what he did when he had no control. 

"Svetlana filed for divorce while Mickey was in prison, married some old rich bastard, and disappeared. Mickey's never tried to find them, don't think either of us deserve to at this point."

Ian sighed, finally looking Tami in the eye. She could only stare helplessly back in the wake of his words. Mickey wasn't just some convict Ian brought home after his stint in prison after all. Mouth dry she figured she had already dug herself this deep, what's a bit more.

"He really go to prison for trying to kill your sister?"

Ian made a face of knowing, standing taller and squaring his shoulders, jutting his chin even further in defence. 

"Yeah, he did." And with a bit of softening creeping into his hard features he whispered, "He did it for me. Because he loves me."

Tami left a few minutes later, assured by Ian he was fine to watch Fred until Lip came home. She totally cut a client's hair uneven as her mind drifted back to Mickey and what she now knew about the man before today. Turns out she knew jack shit.

Now she knew he was so much more. 

==

Tami threw open the front door of the Gallagher home, Fred crying in her ear after refusing to take his afternoon nap. Two heads turned at the commotion. Quickly Ian halfway off the couch to rescue his brother's girlfriend. Tami ignored him entirely and dropped Fred in Mickey's lap.

"He needs some more of that Mickey magic." Tami explained as the husbands stared wide-eyed between mother, crying son, and each other.

She left them to take a much needed bathroom break. After she was done she grabbed a beer and leaned against the doorway, watching the way Fred squirmed in Mickey's arms as he held him close and rubbed his back. Ian watched the pair with adoration before looking up at Tami and mouthing a simple thank you.

And that's how Tami Tamietti met the real Mickey Milkovich.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #459

“i wanted you to know that i love the way you laugh  /  i wanna hold you high and steal your pain away”

Does the person you like have any flaws? He's never seemed very expressive of what he feels. Has anyone ever given you a ring? Why? Yes. Because it was our anniversary and he wanted to, ig. If you ruled your own country, what type of government would it have? I'm not educated enough to answer this. Creation theory, Evolution or the Big Bang theory? I really don't know what I believe about the origins of the universe, but I do believe in evolution. Describe one of your most emotional farewells. The last time I saw Jason and we talked for a long time, and I finally got my closure. It was all so heavy. It started so stiffly, but it ended with us just chatting and smiling and, to my absolute shock, a hug from him. I'm getting emotional so NEXT QUESTION. What was your last serious conversation about? I was reassuring and comforting Sara about some stuff. Is there a city that you have a particular fondness for? If so, what city is it and why? No. Are there any gnomes in your yard? No. When was the last time you were stung by a bee? What kind was it? Years ago. A bumblebee. Are you gonna buy lottery tickets when you’re old enough? I am old enough, and no. The odds are way, way too small, and I don't really dabble in addictive behavior. Have you ever been into a real cave? No. :( That's a life goal, though. Have you ever posted mean comments on YouTube? I know I did once as a kid. It was regarding Meerkat Manor and I thought it was really disrespectful to Flower just because of the music chosen lmao. The drama. What color is your digital camera, if you have one? Black. If you had to spend one day in any movie storyline, which one would it be? Alice in Wonderland, I suppose? Name the strangest game you’ve ever played (video game or real game): Oh man, I've played waaaaay too many video games. I suppose Silent Hill with how confused it left me at first. Its concept is definitely wild. Parasite Eve is high on the list, too. In your opinion, what is the saddest movie you’ve ever seen? Boy in the Striped Pajamas destroys me. What is the best song to make out to? I could answer this but I'm not gonna lmfao Is there anyone right now that you are simply/overly infatuated with? story of my life ayyyyeeeee Who was the last person to play with your hair? Are they cute? Not a clue. Who was the last person close to you that died? Did you cry? Jason's mom. I sobbed on-and-off for days. Do you consider yourself a healthy person? Physically and mentally? No, in either way. Do you know anyone who owns a boat? My dad does. I'm sure others, too, with how popular fishing out on a boat is here. Do you know anyone who uses medical marijuana? I don't know. Even for medicinal purposes, it's not legal here. Do you know anyone who’s died in childbirth? No. What did you do for your 21st birthday? I was in the psych hospital, so... lmao. Therapy, reading, and coloring. Lots of reading and coloring. Because they did NOT fill your schedule enough there. We only had two group therapy sessions a day, and the rest was just... blankness. If dinosaurs could be tamed, would you want one as a pet? I know I'd be one of the dumb ones that absolutely wanted a tiny raptor, lol. Do you own more than one copy or edition of a book? No. If you could see any musical on Broadway right now, what would it be? Not interested. Do you eat soup when you’re sick? I don't like soup. If you read, which book or series did you enjoy most as a child? My first real series that I read religiously was Hank the Cowdog. Then it was Warriors. Do you buy Halloween candy when it’s on sale after the holiday? No. I really don't need candy available to me. Do you agree with the “they’re just being kids” excuse? It depends on what they're doing. In a lot of cases, no. Do you ever watch talk shows? No. Do you have a/any hero(s)? Mark Fischbach, Steve Irwin, my mom... Have you told your parents all of your secrets from when you were a teen? No. Though Mom has playfully once told me that she knows a lot of things I don't think she does, and that's terrifying lmao. You’re getting married. Who’s your maid of honor and best man? M.o.H.: Mom or Sara. Best man isn't my choice. Would you rather get highlights or dye your whole head? DYE IT ALLLLLLL. Are you wearing anything of any sentimental value? Describe? My friendship ring w/ Sara. It has a heart carved on the outside and "bitch" engraved inside so no one can see when you have it on, lol. She has one that says "jerk." It's a Supernatural reference. Who challenges you the most? In what way? My therapist and psychiatrist. They just help ensure I pursue my goals and give me little nudges forward to reassure me. Who seems to hold you back? In what way? PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT ME. I listen to my anxiety WAY too much. What was the last opportunity that you passed up, and why? Going up to Lake Gaston w/ Mom to visit Ash and her fam. They go there all the time, and it's a real nice place. I just didn't want to go because of the heat. Should there be an application process for having children? Hunny, that would not stop people from fuckin lmfao Name one thing that you think defines you as a person? m e e r k a t s What is a fear you have about living on your own? That depression would get the better of me and I'd neglect taking good care of my house. One of the many reasons I'll never live alone. Not at all saying I'd leave the responsibilities to my partner, but they'd be motivation for me to get stuff done. What’s the worst name your mom has ever called you? I don't know. Nothing that bad. What’s your stance on spooning? It helps me feel safe and loved and alsdkfjalwe I just love cuddling in all sorts lmao What’s your most recent obsession? Violet Orlandi & Melodicka Bros' cover of "Somebody That I Used to Know." Have you ever been scammed? Ha ha, yes. I once wanted to get Jason a Joker and Harley Quinn pillow from deviantART; talked to the artist, paid 'em, never got it. :^) Have you ever fostered an animal? No. I would get WAY too attached to foster. I wouldn't be able to give them up without breaking down, probs. Do you know anyone who acts way younger than what they are? I'm sure I do, but no one is coming to mind atm. Would you say you’re a pretty independent person? God no. Does the last song you listened to, remind you of someone? JASON. Do you currently want a new computer? Yes, actually. I want a desktop PC for better gaming quality, honestly. Also, the "escape" key doesn't work on this laptop, one key is missing so I have to hit the sensor JUST right, and it restarts randomly sometimes. I want a PC mainly because I want to get out of the habit of being on my laptop in bed all damn day. How would your parents react if you got a tattoo? I already have like six or seven, so they wouldn't be surprised. Is there anyone you can picture yourself being with forever right now? Maybe. Who is your truest friend? Sara. What is the strangest thing you’ve ever seen outside of your house? THIS house? Idk. Nothing that I'd consider odd. What bug frightens you most? STAG BEETLES lkadjslkfja;lwekjawl;kejrlawer Who is your oldest friend? That would be Sam, and he's in his mid-30s. How long have you known them? Many years. We met via WoW, which I've been playing since '14. I don't really remember how far into it we met, though. Where are they right now? lol I wouldn't know, he's all the way in Jersey. Plus we haven't talked in a while. Have you ever dated a friend of one of your siblings? God no, that would be so weird. What is the best gift someone can give you? An ear to listen without it feeling like a chore to them. Have you ever dated someone who had a child? No. I don't think I could do it. What is the last movie that made you cry? The The Lion King remake made me tear up. Have you ever played in a waterfall? No. Ugh, that sounds like a blast. In your life who has meant the most to you? Let's not get into this. What has been your biggest failure in life? Letting depression and my other conditions take away my identity, becoming my new identity. Do you trust yourself? No. I second-guess EVERYTHING and never know what I should listen to: my heart, my head, my gut... or which voice is what. Would you ever consider getting an abortion, under any circumstances? Yes. What was the last bug you killed? Some kind in the bathroom. Idk what it was. Just a little thing that sort of resembled an earwig, but not completely. Do you prefer profile pictures by yourself of with someone else? By myself, since it's my page. Do you know anyone who has written a book? I don't think so? Do you drink milk/juice from the carton if no one is around? Ew, no. I live with another person, and even if I didn't, what if I had guests? Has anyone ever told you they liked you in a realllly sweet way? Maybe? Has a member of the opposite sex ever given you jewlery? Jason has. Do you find sleeping in cars easy? NOOOOOOOOOO. I'm too scared to let my eyes close and not see what's going on on the road. Has a boyfriend’s/girlfriend’s parents ever gotten mad at you? Why? I don't believe so, no. What is the funniest thing a child has ever said to you. Definitely something my niece has said, but idr what it was. What’s been on your mind lately? Y'all know, lol. Do you feel like you need to get something off your chest? No. Sara was recently there for that. ♥ How would you react if someone told you they had feelings for you? Be very very excited if it was from a certain person.

[sunriserose1023]

One Last Job [Two]

WORD COUNT: 2957 WARNINGS: Angsty, emotional, talk of a stalker CHAPTER SUMMARY: You try to get used to having a bodyguard, and a seemingly innocent act proves why you need one.

Masterlist

PREVIOUS: CHAPTER ONE

You were up with the sun the next morning, foregoing the run/jog your trainer wanted you to do for a swim in the indoor heated pool. You waded into the water from the shallow end, taking a deep breath before ducking your head and swimming under the water. 

You lost count of how many laps you swam, and when your lungs and limbs were burning, you rolled to your back and floated. 

All you could think about, all that you’d thought about through your restless night was Bucky. Why, you didn’t have the slightest clue, but there was something about him you just couldn’t shake. He was attractive, that was for damn sure. But there was something else, something deeper … maybe even a little dark. 

Something you wanted to know more about. 

You ducked your head back under the water, swimming to the side of the pool. You got to the ladder and lifted your head, gasping as you gripped the ladder tightly. 

“Jesus, you scared me.”

Bucky smiled from where he was sitting, elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together. 

“I was making a round and thought I heard some splashing.”

You nodded. 

“I didn’t feel like running this morning.”

Bucky nodded, and for some reason, you kept talking, answering questions he didn’t verbally ask. 

“Ollie knows how to swim. He’s pretty good, but he also knows not to come down here without me or Clint or Natasha.”

Bucky nodded again. 

“That’s good.”

You went quiet, feeling suddenly self-conscious, despite the modest one-piece swimsuit you were wearing. Bucky cleared his throat and stood up, making you give a shaky breath when you saw the dark jeans encasing his thick thighs, the black t-shirt stretching around his muscular arms. He nodded back towards the bench he’d been sitting on. 

“I’ll give you a minute to dry off.” “Thanks. I was thinking about cooking some breakfast, if you’re interested?”

Bucky gave you one of those quirky half-smiles. 

“I never turn down food.”

You smiled and he walked away, and after getting a nice view of his backside, you ducked your head beneath the water again, sputtering as you came up, shaking your head and exhaling. 

You scrambled eggs and grated cheese into them, turning slices of bacon as you worked. Toast was in the toaster, and there were fresh oranges ready to be squeezed in the basket on the counter, which Steve was currently working on. Clint was standing by the coffee pot, a frown on his face and a mug in his hand at the ready. Bucky walked in when you set some bacon onto a plate and moved it to the center island, managing to grab one slice before glaring at Clint and Steve. You smiled at Bucky as you turned back to the stove. 

“You’ve got to be quick, or else you’ll lose a finger. But don’t worry. I’m planning on cooking at least a metric ton for Steve alone.”

Steve stepped over to you, a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice in his hands. He kissed your cheek, putting the pitcher beside the now-empty plate. 

“Are you sure you won’t marry me?”

You smiled. 

“Sorry, bud. My heart belongs to another, albeit smaller, man.”

Steve smiled, shaking his head as he crunched on a piece of bacon. Bucky swallowed as he watched the ease between you and Steve. Since he hadn’t had coffee, Clint wasn't coherent yet, and he purposefully wasn’t wearing his hearing aids so he wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. 

You turned to meet Bucky’s eyes, a soft smile on your pretty face. 

“Scrambled eggs okay?”

Bucky could only nod, and you carried a plate to him, setting it on a watermelon-shaped placemat in front of him. 

“Salt and pepper’s in the shaker there. Pepper grinder on the bottom, turn it over for salt. Butter’s in the dish there.”

He met your eyes and you smiled, color rising high on your cheeks. You went back to the stove, bringing another plate to the pineapple placemat beside Bucky’s. Another plate was placed on a placemat shaped like an orange, and the smallest plate was set on a lime wedge.

Bucky watched as you set a protein bar and a bottle of water on the counter by the door, taking a carton of yogurt from the fridge and grabbing a spoon before you hopped up onto the counter. You crossed your legs and dipped the spoon into the yogurt, and Bucky ducked his head as he studied the breakfast in front of him. 

A smile lit up your face when Ollie trudged into the kitchen, mouth open in a wide yawn. He walked over to you, putting his face at your stomach, and you smiled as you brushed your fingers through his hair. 

“Good morning, sunshine.”

He grunted at you, and you gave a quiet laugh as you bent to kiss the top of his head. 

“Your plate’s on the lime. Go eat before it gets cold.”

Ollie nodded, yawning again as he climbed up onto the barstool, propping one elbow on the table and resting his head in his hand. Clint shuffled over to sit beside him, second cup of coffee in one hand. Steve sat beside Bucky and started shoveling food into his mouth. 

And when Bucky looked your way again, he found your eyes on him. 

He watched your back straighten as the clicking of high heels could be heard coming down the hall. Ollie perked up, a smile coming to his lips. Bucky glanced over his shoulder and his eyes widened. 

Black stilettos, shapely legs, a tight black pencil skirt, a flowy white shirt, perfect crimson curls. Her lips were almost the same color as her hair, dark eyelashes hiding bright blue eyes that widened as she noticed the crowd in the kitchen. One perfectly manicured eyebrow raised. 

“My invitation to this party must have gotten lost.” “Auntie Tasha, these are Uncle Clint's friends. You know Steve, but this is Bucky. He’s going to Bancougar with Mom.”

Natasha slowly nodded. 

“It’s Vancouver, baby.”

Ollie nodded, whispering “Vancouver” under his breath. Natasha met your eyes, her eyebrow raising again. 

“So Vancouver’s still a go?”

You nodded, setting the yogurt you had barely touched onto the counter. Natasha made a humming noise, sighing as she looked to the clock, then back to the kid. 

“Eat your breakfast, buddy. We’ve got to go soon.”

Ollie nodded, digging into his breakfast. Natasha pulled her cell phone out of her bag and made her way to you, focusing on the screen, missing the way you pushed the yogurt behind you. 

Bucky saw it, though. 

Natasha shook her head, blowing out a breath. 

“I’m so sick of these stupid magazines. How many times can I say ‘no comment’ before they listen?” “I got an email from Jesse at the—“ “No.”

You blinked. 

“No?”

Natasha shook her head. 

“We’re not giving any interviews since whoever at the police station let the news leak about …”

You and Natasha glanced to Ollie, who was giving Steve a run for his money with how quickly he was eating. Natasha nodded, speaking softly. 

“You know. That’s all anyone will want to talk about, and the focus needs to be on the movie and your nominations.”

You nodded, looking down at your hands. Bucky glanced over at Steve when his foot was nudged, and Steve shook his head as he drank from his glass. Ollie wiped his mouth with a napkin and jumped down from his chair. 

“Done!” “Go brush your teeth and get dressed.”

You and Natasha had spoken at the same time, and Ollie giggled as he ran off down the hall. Natasha blew out a breath and shook her head as she walked towards the bottle of water and protein bar on the end of the counter. 

“Send him to the car when he’s ready. I don’t want to be late today.”

The clicking of her heels was all that could be heard, and you gave a shaky sigh as you slid off the countertop. You turned and put your hands on it, hanging your head. Clint slid off his chair and went to you, laying a hand on your back, murmuring softly. Steve tapped two fingers against Bucky’s wrist, and he stood up, following Steve out of the kitchen. 

When they were down the hall in a sitting room or something—Bucky didn’t know half the terminology for the hotel-like house—Bucky shook his head. 

“What the hell was that?”

Steve sighed. 

“That was Natasha.” “Why’d she talk to Y/N like she was something stuck on the bottom of her shoe?” “She didn’t mean it like that. Nat’s practically her boss, so—“ “No, they’re sisters. Sisters don’t talk like that to each other.” “It’s a different dynamic here, Buck.”

Bucky shook his head. 

“She shut her down like she was an annoying kid. Did you notice how Y/N hid her food when Natasha walked in?”

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed and he glanced towards the kitchen as Bucky shook his head again. 

“That’s not okay, Steve.” “It’s not our business, Buck.” “But—“ “Save it. You’re just here to be her bodyguard, remember?”

Bucky grit his teeth. 

“Don’t toss my words back at me, you son of a bitch.” “Hey! Don’t get mad at me.”

Bucky shook his head, turning and walking out of the room, back down the hall to the kitchen. He stood in the doorway and watched you, as you slid plates into soapy water and washed them by hand. After a few quiet moments, he spoke. 

“All this money and no dishwasher?”

You glanced over your shoulder and gave him a tight smile. 

“Keeps me grounded to wash the dishes myself.” “Need a hand?”

You shook your head, turning back around and scrubbing some more. Bucky pushed off from the wall he was leaning against, opening drawers until he found a dish towel. He took a plate from the drainer and dried it, moving to place it in the cabinet you’d gotten it from. 

You watched him as he did the rest of the dishes that way, and you gave a shaky breath when you let the soapy water drain from the sink. You washed your hands and noticed Bucky’s raised eyebrow when he saw how pink your hands and forearms were. You swallowed and stepped around him, and he gently took hold of your upper arm. 

“Is she always like that?”

You closed your eyes, but nodded. Your voice was barely a whisper. 

“She’s just trying to do what’s best for us.” “And that’s treating her money maker like garbage?”

You opened your eyes, meeting his. He let go of you, stepping back just enough to cross his arms over his chest and lean against the counter. You swallowed, speaking softly. 

“She’s good with numbers and schedules and things. When my career took off, Mom asked me to give her a place in my …” “Entourage?”

You nodded, and Bucky spoke, just as softly as you. 

“That doesn’t give her the right to treat you like this.”

Tears filled your eyes, and you bit your bottom lip as you looked towards the window over the sink. 

“Ollie loves her so much. And she’s so good to him. I can’t … She stood by me when I was pregnant and when he was a newborn. They have such a bond, and I can’t break that. No matter how she treats me.”

You sniffled, laying a hand against your stomach as you tried to step away. Bucky took hold of your arm again, his fingers gently brushing your elbow. 

“You didn’t finish your breakfast.”

Your eyes widened as you met his eyes and he lifted a shoulder. You gave a shaky breath as he gave your elbow a gentle squeeze. 

“Can you get me your flight information for next week? And a list of people you normally associate with in Vancouver?”

You nodded, and he held your eyes for a moment longer, then gave your elbow one more squeeze before he walked away. 

You paced your office as you flipped through the script you’d been sent, reading the lines out loud. You stopped when there was a knock on your door, and you smiled when Steve poked his head in. You lifted a hand and waved, and Steve smiled as he stepped in the room. 

“Am I interrupting?”

You shook your head, tossing the script on your desk. 

“I can use a break.”

Steve shut the door behind him, leaning against it as you went to sit in your desk chair. You met his eyes and smiled at him, speaking softly. 

“I like Bucky. He’s good.” “Told you.”

You laughed softly. 

“He’s very observant.”

Steve sighed, pushing off from the door. 

“Is she still riding you?”

You blew out a breath, leaning your head back. 

“She’s just trying to do what’s best for us.” “Y/N. Come on. It’s me.”

You closed your eyes, shaking your head. You pushed up from your chair, shaking your head as you started pacing the office. 

“I need to work. Now, more than ever. The nominations were nice, but I need to keep my face out there, keep the focus on me.” “Is that what she’s telling you?” “It’s what everyone is telling me.”

Steve just watched as you paced the floor, until you stopped and turned to face him. 

“And if I keep busy, I won’t be able to focus on how truly terrified I really am.”

Tears suddenly filled your eyes and Steve stepped forward, taking you in his arms. You clung to him, putting your face in his thick shoulder as he gently stroked your hair. 

“Easy. Take it easy, sweet girl.”

You shook your head, giving a shaky exhale. 

“I can’t sleep. I keep having these horrible dreams about someone breaking in and—“

You swallowed and Steve leaned his head against yours. 

“No one’s going to be breaking in, sweetheart. Not with all the reinforcements and bells and whistles Bucky’s added to this place.” “Really?” “Really. You and Ollie are just about the safest people on the planet right now.”

You put your face back in his shoulder and Steve smiled as he rubbed your back. You sighed as you stepped back from him, pushing a hand through your hair. You turned to look at the clock above your desk, then smiled at Steve. 

“Ollie will be home soon.” “Does he have any after-school activities?”

You nodded. 

“He does soccer and he wants to play baseball, he keeps telling me.”

You shook your head, and Steve smiled. 

“I’ll see if I can find a couple gloves, see what the kid’s made of.”

You rolled your eyes. 

“Go easy on my baby, Rogers.”

Steve laughed, the two of you turning as Ollie came running into your room. 

“Hey, Mama! Look what I found!”

The smile slid from your face when he held out the bouquet of blood red roses. Steve must have seen the color fade from your face, because he stealthily grabbed a tissue from the box on your desk and took the vase from Ollie as he spoke. 

“Where’d you find these, buddy?” “Outside by the gate. Did you know there’s a security guard out there now? He’s a big guy, told me his name was Dugan.”

Ollie shook his head as he walked to the chair you’d collapsed into. 

“What kind of a name is Dugan, Mom?” “It’s his last name, bud. He was in the Army with me and Bucky and your uncle.”

Ollie looked back to Steve, hazel eyes going wide. 

“You know him, Steve?” “I do. And he’s not as cool as he’s trying to make you think he is.”

Ollie giggled, and you lifted a shaking hand to brush over his head. He smiled at you, and Steve cleared his throat. 

“O-man, did you see anybody around these flowers?”

Ollie shook his head. 

“No, the flowers were just sitting by the gate. There wasn’t anybody around.”

Steve nodded, and you met his eyes. He smiled at you, motioning towards the door. 

“Come on, bud. Let’s go see what Uncle Clint’s up to.”

Ollie nodded, waving a hand behind him as he ran to Steve. 

“Bye, Mom!”

When the door clicked shut behind them, you leaned forward, putting your head in your hands. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door a second before Bucky walked in.

“Are you okay?” “They’re from him, aren’t they? The—the roses. He always sends roses.”

You stood up from your desk, walking around it and shaking your head. Bucky stepped in front of you, closing the door behind him, watching as you paced the room, wringing your hands. 

“Was there a card? Sometimes he sends a card. Sometimes it comes a few days later, in the mail.” “Y/N.”

You stopped, turning to face him. He gently tilted his head, and you felt your bottom lip tremble before you burst into tears. Bucky was in front of you before you could take in a breath, wrapping you into his arms. You clung to him, digging your fingers into his back and crying into his shoulder, shaking your head as you choked out the words. 

“I’m so scared. None of this matters, because he—“ “Shh, listen to me, listen. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Do you hear me?” “You can’t promise—“ “I can. I am doing everything in my power to keep you safe, and I’m not going to let him touch you.”

You put your face in Bucky’s shoulder, and he tightened his grip around you, gently rubbing a hand down your back.

NEXT: CHAPTER THREE

TAGS: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan, @captain-rogers-beard, @i-have-no-life-charlie, @jillybeaner13, @notyourtypicalrose, @sea040561, @fallenoutofrose, @geeksareunique, @distractedgemini, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @isaxhorror, @scentedsongrebel, @paige-sais-rawr, @beardburnsupersoldiers, @absolukeyrh​, @elatedmarvel​, @shadowsof-thenight​, @sarcasm-myfriend​, @our-marvel-universe​, @shinycupcakebaker​