#and pretzel! who i can. who i can definitely draw well. don’t look at her too closely

[codgod]

bwub bwub bwub

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: a little fic inspired by a convo @youunravelme and i had a couple of days ago! couldn’t stop thinking about this little idea and just had to write it ☺️ a little bit more lore in the squeaks’ verse added here and lots more to come! enjoy!!

tw: a little innuendo, domestic fluff

word count: 4.3k

summary: it’s talia’s first day of kindergarten and neither you nor mat is handling it particularly well

mat and t’s first day of kindergarten

You lean forward on the counter and smile at Talia, who’s looking at you skeptically. “How about we pick some snacks for your lunch tomorrow?” You ask chirpily.

“How about no?” Talia looks back at you with wide hazel eyes and a nervous tilt to her lips. Her fingers twist together and she kicks the heels of her feet against the legs of the stool she’s sitting on.

“You’re going to be hungry if we don’t pack any snacks,” you reply reasonably, unzipping the brand new Disney Princess lunchbox you’d picked up a few weeks ago at Target. The rush of back to school shopping, even if it wasn’t for you, was a high like nothing else. You’d gone slightly overboard on the supplies and in a burst of excitement, had bought yourself a new planner and half a dozen packs of various styles of pen. You can’t help but get excited about stationary.

“If I was home I wouldn’t be hungry and I could have snacks whenever I want,” Talia points out, tugging at the end of her dark braid. She twists her fingers in the hair below the tie and you reach over the counter to gently untangle her fingers.

You prop your chin on your palm and nod. “You could. But you’re not going to be home. It’s your first day of kindergarten and you’re going to have so many new experiences,” your tone is infused with excitement and you’re relieved to see that the nervousness in Talia’s expression fades a little. Her mouth twists to the side, eyebrows drawing together over her nose.

“Am I gonna see Tulsa?” She asks, hopeful.

“Tulsa’s in the next school, remember, baby?” You reply carefully, hating to burst her bubble. “She moved to a new school too.”

Talia’s lower lip quivers and she sounds impossibly sad when she says, “I thought me and Tulsa were gonna be in school together?”

“Not this year,” you reply sympathetically, but then perk up to continue, “we’re still getting first day of school ice cream with Tulsa and Gunnar and Aunt Holly and Uncle Bo. That’s exciting, right?”

Talia’s eyes light up at the promise of ice cream and you knew that would work. She’s her father’s daughter when it comes to her sweet tooth.

“And you and Daddy, right?” She asks, leaning up in her knees on the stool, little palms pressed flat against the countertop.

“And me and Daddy,” you confirm. “We’re even bringing you to school in the morning, before Daddy goes to work.”

“Okay,” Talia nods once, decisive, and her mood about starting kindergarten is all but gone. “Mommy, can I have fishies for a snack tomorrow?”

You move around the kitchen, gathering up the components for her lunch, “sure, love bug, you can have fishies.” The snack-sized packet of Goldfish get tossed into her lunchbox, along with a handful of raspberries, a peeled Cutie, exactly five pretzel twists, a Nutella and peanut butter sandwich cut into stars, and a small water bottle. Now that she’s into it, Talia’s definitely got opinions on what should be included with her lunch.

“No, you can’t take seven cheese sticks,” you sigh, pulling the bag out of her hands and replacing it in the fridge before shutting the door. “I’ll give you one.”

“But I want six!” She yelps, hanging from the fridge handle. “I want six!”

“Six what?” Mat’s voice echoes through the kitchen, the back door closing behind him.

“Daddy!” Talia squeals and makes a beeline for his knees, crashing into them with a muffled grunt from Mat. He holds the pizza box high over her head in one hand and rubs at her head with the other. “Mommy won’t let me have six cheese sticks.”

Mat grins at you over Talia’s head and you roll your eyes back, crossing your arms and leaning a hip against the counter. You wait to see how he’ll handle it.

He slides the pizza box onto the counter and hoists Talia up next to it, leaning his palms on the counter and kissing her cheeks until she giggles. “Mommy is always right, Talia Bee,” he says seriously. “Especially when it comes to knowing how many string cheeses you can eat.”

You smile to yourself, turning to the cabinets to get out plates and glasses for dinner. Mat keeps talking to Talia behind you. “Besides, the last time you ate three string cheeses you puked on my sneakers, what do you think six would do?”

“Uhhh,” Talia’s eyes go wide and she cradles Mat’s face in her little hands, “puke six times?”

You and Mat wrinkle your faces into matching expressions of disgust. “Yeah, we don’t want to do that, right?” Mat laughs, tickling Talia until she shrieks for him to stop.

Before Talia can knock into it, you slide the pizza box out of her reach, warmth filling your stomach at how adorable Mat and Talia are together. Every time you see them, with their dark heads bent together conspiring, your heart lurches with love. Having a family with Mat is all you’ve wanted since you’d seen him around his teammates’ kids.

“Daddy?” Talia pipes up a few minutes later, half-chewed pizza in her mouth.

“Swallow first, please,” you remind her, snagging the green peppers off of Mat’s slice. You have no idea when he even orders with green peppers when you’re the only one who likes them.

Talia chews and quickly swallows while Mat waits with a soft smile on his face. “Can I wear my helmet to school?” She props her chin on her fists and grins charmingly at you both. Her hockey helmet is covered in stickers and glitter, a project with Mat that you hadn’t been privy to before it happened. She’s really easy to spot on the ice during her skating lessons though.

Mat grins at your daughter, clearly delighted at the prospect of her walking into her classroom with the decorated helmet on, but he shakes his head a little. “I think your helmet is better left on the rink, TB. Didn’t you and Mommy pick out a dress?”

You casually slide a few carrot sticks on her plate, mentally fist pumping when she grabs one and absently starts chewing on it. “Yeah, baby,” you chime in, “I thought you liked the dress we picked? With the blue stripes and your fancy heels?”

Talia’s fancy heels are a regular old pair of sandals with a twisted knot over the toes and an ankle strap, but they also have a quarter of an inch thick sole by the heel and so, they’re “fancy heels.”

“Oh yeah,” Talia nods. “I forgot. Can I bring Sparky?”

“Sure you can,” you agree. “But he has to stay in your backpack, okay? We don’t want him getting lost.”

“And maybe,” she plucks her fingers at the crust of her pizza, “maybe I can take Daddy’s hat. And maybe my sparkle jacket?” Nerves creep into her voice and it wavers a bit, making your heart clench painfully. You just want to protect her from all the bad feelings.

Mat reaches out to tug at the end of her braid, “you can take my hat in your backpack too.” His lips twist up to the side a little, concerned about Talia’s nerves.

“And you can wear your sparkle jacket over your dress,” you promise. Mat’s Stanley Cup Champion hat and Talia’s customised playoff denim jacket had been staples in her wardrobe all summer and you’re not surprised that she wants to bring both with her to school as comfort items.

Talia beams and Mat slings his arm over the back of your chair, relaxing now that Talia’s happy again. “How about you finish that pizza and we get in a little park time?” He suggests, laugh echoing around the kitchen when Talia jumps up on her chair to start chanting about the park.

After clearing up dinner and wrapping the leftover pizza up, the three of you head out to the park, Talia zipping ahead of you on her little pink bike. Mat links his fingers with yours and you squeeze his hand gently.

“She’s getting so big,” he comments sadly, his lips turning down in a frown. You look up at his side profile, studying the way his eyes never leave Talia for a second. Your heart flips in your chest, a painful lurch when you think about how you should be holding another baby right now, how you want so badly to give Talia younger siblings. Mat looks down at you and squeezes your hand tightly, drawing you away from the negative thought spiral. His lips twitch, like he’s trying not to smile and you know he’s about to say something out of pocket to lift your mood. You wait and sure enough, he says, with a little twinkle in his eye, “maybe we should homeschool her?”

A laugh bubbles out of your chest, the absurdity of his question slash suggestion easing the knot in your chest.

“Mat, baby,” you giggle at him, “you have a high school education and I can’t do math. It took all of my brain power and patience to teach her how to read and write.”

“Okay, homeschooling is out,” he replies, leaning in to give you a quick peck before running off to the swings, where Talia is calling for him to push her. She still has her helmet on and it’s tipping just a little bit over her eyes. Mat’s behind her in an instant, sending the swing higher and higher into the air. You reach Talia’s bike and set it upright, sitting on the seat and watching your two favorite people in the whole world laugh together.

A warm early September breeze ruffles your hair and you wave when Talia shrieks for you to watch how high she’s going. You want to live in this moment forever and commit every detail to memory.

Mat spends the next forty-five minutes chasing Talia around the park, wearing her out enough that bath time is a breeze and she slips under her covers with little argument. You and Mat pile into her bed too and Talia curls up against your side, yawning widely. Mat reads Madeline, voice getting quieter and quieter as Talia nods off, until he’s stopped reading altogether and her mouth hangs open, face slack in sleep.

“Sleep tight, love bug,” you whisper, kissing the top of her head before easing out from under her arm. Mat helps, holding your waist and keeping you steady as you get to your feet. He plants his own kiss on Talia’s forehead and clicks off the bedside lamp and turns on the nightlight before following you out of the room.

A sort of bittersweet mood traps you and Mat while you get ready for bed later. You know she’s ready for school, ready to make new friends and learn, but it’s hard to know that your tiny best friend is going to be out of your sight for eight hours a day now.

“She’s going to kill it,” Mat says, opening his arms for you to cuddle close. You rest your cheek over his heart, arms wrapped around his waist.

“I know,” you sigh. Your legs tangle with Mat’s under the covers. “What am I going to do with my day now?”

“Bottomless brunches and window shopping at the Americana,” Mat teases, kissing the crown of your head.

You tuck yourself even closer to him, soaking up his body warmth. “Oh ha,” you drawl. “Very funny.”

“It’s why you married me,” Mat chirps and you know he’s grinning without even having to look at him.

“Mhm,” you hum. “Definitely not for your big….wallet.”

You giggle and Mat groans, training his fingers up and down your spine, making you shiver. “That was even worse than mine, Squeaks,” he mutters.

“Guess your terrible sense of humor is rubbing off on me,” you snark, kissing Mat’s chest and closing your eyes. He mutters something under his breath, but his heartbeat is steady in your ear and you’re asleep before you know it.

The next morning is harder than you expected, emotion clogging your throat as you get a special breakfast - Mickey Mouse shaped pancakes, bacon, and fruit cut into different shapes - ready for Talia while Mat helps her get dressed.

He’s surprisingly adept at doing her hair, a high ponytail braided and tied off. There’s a big white bow at the top of her ponytail and her smile is huge as she spins in the little blue and white striped sundress.

“I love this dress, Mommy,” she beams, wiggling excitedly while you tuck a napkin into her collar to keep her clean.

“You look like a princess,” you compliment her. “Daddy did a really good job with your hair.”

“Thank you,” Mat wiggles his eyebrows and sits down to his own plate of Mickey pancakes.

Talia looks at you with wide eyes and covers her mouth with both hands while she tries to whisper, “Daddy messed up soooo many times.”

Mat’s lips flatten into a straight line and he looks at Talia with sarcasm written plainly on his features. “Gee, thanks, TB. I thought we agreed not to tell Mommy that?”

Talia shrugs at him and returns to her breakfast, humming happily under her breath. You smile at Mat and lean over the counter to kiss him gently, darting your tongue out to lick up a drop of maple syrup on his lower lip. “I still think you’re pretty impressive,” you whisper against his lips.

Mat grins against your lips and Talia makes a fake gagging sound, “kissing’s gross!”

You pull back from Mat with a laugh and point your fork at your daughter. “You won’t always think that, now finish breakfast. You don’t want to be late for your first day, do you?”

Talia shovels another bite of pancake into her mouth, slightly less enthusiastic, and you kiss the top of her head before going into the front hall to find her backpack to make sure everything is packed up. It’s heavy, full of fresh supplies (including a 64-pack of Crayola crayons with Talia’s initials Sharpied onto each individual crayon, a fit of mania from Mat, because “no one is going to try and snake my baby’s crayons from her!”), the Disney Princess beach towel that’ll be used for nap time, and one of Mat’s old button downs that’ll be used for a smock during art class.

You zip the backpack and settle it back against the wall, swallowing the emotion clogging your throat. Seeing all of Talia’s gear packed up is making everything so much more real.

Mat’s hands on your hips startle you a little, and you jolt back against his chest. “Penny for your thoughts?” He mutters, kissing your cheek. His palms are warm on your sides, fingers splayed towards your belly button.

“Just thinking about how it seems like time is moving so fast,” you sigh.

Mat nods against your neck and mumbles into your skin, “can we get serious about trying for another again? I miss the baby years.”

Your heart beats in triple speed in your chest, anxiety flooding your veins, but you nod, whisper, “yes, definitely. I want another baby, Mat.”

The conversation is halted when Talia comes stampeding into the hallway, twirling around. “Mommy! Can I wear your lipstick?” She clasps her hands under her chin and pouts adorably. You should resist, tell her no and swipe on a little of the Pink Sugar Summer Fridays lip balm that she loves instead, but you find yourself nodding and pulling away from Mat to grab your purse off the hook.

“Sure, baby,” you squat in front of her, digging out the well-loved tube of Black Honey from the bottom of your purse. Talia puckers her lips out in a kiss and you swipe on a little bit of the sheer balm.

Twenty minutes later and running slightly behind schedule, after you make Talia pose for a few pictures with her Back to School board and she insists on Mat sitting on the step next to her for a picture, you’re all buckled into Mat’s car for the quick drive to the primary school. Talia’s swinging her feet in her booster seat, smiling happily now that she’s wearing the red cowboy boots Aunt Liana had brought back as a souvenir from her trip to Nashville over the summer instead of the sandals you initially wanted her to wear.

“Mommy,” Talia sing-songs, “I’m hot.”

“The air conditioning is on, T,” you sigh, rubbing at your temple. You know she’s probably hot because of the boots and the denim jacket she’d insisted on wearing. Her sandals are in your tote bag and all she has to do is ask for them, but a stubborn streak runs through your daughter, inherited directly from both you and Mat.

You can see the side of Mat’s lips tick up out of the corner of your eye, his fingers tapping along on the steering wheel as Justin Bieber plays on the radio - the old-school throwback station, which makes you feel ancient. He looks at Talia in the rear view mirror and says casually, “I bet you’d feel better if you let Mommy give you the sandals.”

Talia’s face crinkles up in disgust. “I don’t want the sandals. I wanna wear my Mashpill boots.”

A little giggle bubbles up in your chest, it’s getting rarer that Talia mispronounces a word, so you’re living for the Nashville/Mashpill mistake.

“The sandals won’t be as hot,” Mat says, and then, laughing, adds, “plus your feet won’t stink!”

“My feet don’t stink!” Talia gasps, outraged. She shoots back, shouting, “your feet stink!”

You laugh and Mat mock-glares at you. You give him an innocent smile, teasing, “keep your eyes on the road, dear.”

Mat scoffs at you, rolling his eyes even as a full smile graces his lips. Talia’s still chanting in the back about stinky feet, at the right age for the silly humor. Mat reaches out and rests his hand on your thigh, letting his fingertips drift up under the hem of the linen dress you’re wearing. The pads of his fingers dance lightly over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh and you shiver a little, goosebumps rising on your arms. Mat’s smile turns smug and he taps the volume button on the steering wheel with his other hand, singing along loudly to the Billy Joel song now playing. Talia’s little voice chimes in from the back seat with her made up lyrics, and by the second verse, you’ve joined in for the three-part harmony.

Mat pulls the car up to the curb outside of the school, parking behind a line of SUVs before turning the car off and pocketing his keys.

“Ready, T?” You turn around in your seat, smiling widely at her.

She sighs and kicks her feet up at you. “Mommy, can I have my sandals?”

Your smile softens and you nod, reaching behind you for the tote resting at your feet. “Sure can, baby. I think you’ll be more comfortable this way,” you reply, getting out of the front seat so you can open Talia’s door and change out her shoes before she hops out of her booster seat. Mat’s already out on the sidewalk, holding her little pink backpack in one hand.

He looks like such a stereotypical dad in his dark jeans and navy polo, hair scraped back off his forehead and slightly beat up sneakers. The little pink backpack just makes him even hotter and you can’t help but stare. When Mat catches you looking, he gives you a slow smirk and a quick wink, holding his hand out for Talia to take.

She grabs his hand with her free one and lifts her feet off the ground without warning, swinging between you and Mat. Your arm nearly pulls out of its socket and your heart skips a quick beat, but Talia giggles and you love that she feels safe enough to do that. Mat swings his arm, sending Talia forward and eliciting even more giggles.

“Maybe we can just skip school and go to the park?” Talia asks, planting her feet back on the ground and squinting up at the school. It’s a cute little square brick building, kindergarten and first grade classrooms on the outside of the hallways and glass windows looking in on a courtyard. The ceilings are lower inside to make it more welcoming to the kids and Mat can brush the ceiling tiles with his fingertips when he stretches his arm over his head - something he had learned during the open house a few weeks ago.

But from the way Talia’s looking at the building now you’d think she was standing in front of Hogwarts.

At the same time you open your mouth to suggest going to the park after school, Mat pipes up and says, “that’s a good idea, TB. You don’t need to go to school, you can just stay home with Mommy.”

“Mat!” You hiss at him over Talia’s head and he cocks his head at you, barely looking apologetic.

“What?” He mutters back. “It’s an option.”

“It’s not!” You say, at the same time Talia says, “I wanna stay with Mommy.”

You glare at him, hoping your expression conveys the exact levels of ‘see what you did?’ that you’re feeling. Mat’s mouth curls in a sheepish expression and you can see his hand tighten around Talia’s, like he’s not going to let her into the school. Before any of the three of you can say anything, you spot a tall older woman striding down the path towards your little group. You recognize her as the principal and are bracing yourself for the absolute hysterics that Talia is sometimes prone to.

“Hi Talia,” she smiles, bending a little at the waist so she can be at eye level with your daughter, “I’m Mrs. Seaver, the principal. Do you remember meeting me at open house?”

Talia nods, totally mute, her fingers tightening around yours. Your hear squeezes a little for her, nearly ready to break down and bring her home, like Mat had suggested.

“Why don’t you come with me and we can get you settled in your classroom?” Mrs. Seaver continues, somehow managing to get Talia’s hand and backpack away from Mat and starts walking her back up the path to the school. “Your mom and dad will be so excited to hear all about what exciting things you got up to today.”

Talia looks back at you over her shoulder, an apprehensive look on her face. Mat makes a move to step forward and follow them, but you reach out to lace your fingers with his, tugging him back gently. “We literally cannot keep her from going to school,” you whisper, pasting a bright smile on your face and waving at her with your free hand.

Mat looks constipated and you nudge him with the back of your hand, muttering, “smile,” until he manages something halfway decent.

“She’s just a baby,” he says out of the corner of his mouth, waving like a robot. “She shouldn’t be old enough for school.”

You sniffle a little, watching the door shut behind Talia and the principal, your hand dropping from the air. “I don’t understand how time went so fast,” you hiccup, tears building at your lash line. Anxiety starts to churn in your stomach. “Maybe you’re right, maybe we should keep her home another year.”

“Oh, whoa,” Mat wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you to his chest so he can hug you tightly. “We definitely need to distract you, if you’re starting to agree with me.”

He laughs and you manage a weak giggle against his shoulder. Mat’s hands are warm against your back and you melt into him. “I’m going to miss having my little sidekick around,” you confess, suddenly exhausted from holding it together. Other than a few hours a week at pre-k, Talia’s been by your side practically every second since birth.

Mat drops a kiss to the top of your head, “I’ve got a couple of hours before I have to hit the gym, why don’t we go home and make you a new sidekick?”

You can hear the grin in his voice and you pull back from his chest, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Don’t tease me, Mat,” you murmur, heart pounding wildly. He’d said about trying again earlier, but you weren’t really sure if he was serious.

“Not teasing you, Squeaks,” he replies, the familiar nickname falling from his lips warmly. At this point, he uses it more than your given name, the curse of those damn Nikes. Mat grips your chin in between his thumb and index finger and tilts it up a little more so he can bend his head and kiss you sweetly. “Let’s give it another try and if…well, if not, we can look more into surrogacy again.”

Your head bobbles a nod and your heart swoops a little in your chest, the excited/nervous fizz of Mat’s words making you feel a little dizzy. Baby making is a land mine sometimes for your brain, but right now all you know is that everything in your body is screaming for your husband to give you another baby.

Mat’s grip on your chin tightens briefly and he kisses you again, lacing your fingers with his to drag you back to the car. You skip along behind him, laughter fighting to escape your lips.

“Should we make this one in the bedroom?” Mat teases, holding open the door for you. His hazel eyes twinkle with mischief. “Or in the shower like T?”

A flush works its way up over your chest and face, your entire body going hot. Mat laughs at the expression on your face and you mutter, “we don’t know it was the shower.”

“Right, could’ve been the back seat of the car or the couch or in Bo’s bathroom,” Mat’s eyes dance, his smile wide and shit-eating.

You can’t help but smile back at him, electric delight working its way through your veins.

[sej2020]

Over Snacks

You don’t know really when it began, this little thing with the ADA. It just did. You just found you both had a mutual love of snacks and coffee. Both of you seemingly making beeline for the snacks in the draw of your desk, or the coffee pot in his office. You didn’t really think anything of it, but others surely did.

It was like any other day, you were sat at your desk filling out the statement your most recent victim had made, getting everything onto the system as the investigation began to take full flow.

It was late afternoon and a cup of now cooling coffee sat next you, Barba came strutting into the precinct. Ignoring the smirks of your fellow teammates, you barely reacted as the man as usual immediately headed to your desk and perched himself on the edge looking at you expectantly.

‘Can I help you with something councillor?’ You asked grabbing your coffee mug settling back in your seat looking up at the smirking man.

‘Come on, you going to make me beg, even now?’ asked Barba batting his eyes.

‘Well a please would be nice’ you scoffed taking a final sip of your coffee before placing it on your desk, before leaning over the side of your chair to open up the bottom draw behind the man’s legs.

‘Pretzels or fish crackers?’ You asked.

‘Pretzels’ smirked Barba immediately tucking into the tub when you handed it to him.

‘Thanks’ you snorted when the man made a small pile on your desk.

‘You’re welcome’ said Barba grinning as he put away the tub, closing the draw and heading into Olivia’s office with his own handful.

‘What?’ You huffed when you spotted everyone looking at you with smirks on their faces.

‘Come on… you and Barba’ smirked Finn.

‘What about me and Barba?’ You asked with a frown.

‘Flirting like children over Pretzels’ smiled Rollins.

‘Behave’ you scoffed.

‘There was definitely flirtatious body language coming from you both’ grinned Carisi.

‘Seriously you guys are way off the mark’ you said turning back to your report.

It wasn’t until later into the evening you made your way to the ADA’s building, you had a question that popped into your head on your way home and seeing as you passed the building you decided to just pop in.

Wondering up the stairs and onto Barba’s office level, unsurprised to find his assistant Carmen having gone home already. Not realising he had someone with him, you opened the door and poked your head in.

‘What are you a bat?’ Snarked Rita who was sat in front of Barba’s desk.

‘Well I hope it wasn’t anything bad’ you said raising an eyebrow.

‘It wasn’t, Rita was actually just leaving’ huffed Barba.

‘There’s no need to be a grump, don’t forget what I said Rafael’ said Rita, grabbing her bag getting to her feet.

‘Detective’ Rita said as you stood to the side to let the women out the office.

‘Defence Vulture’ you replied earning a cackle from the women as she left.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt’ you said sheepishly, suddenly finding it very awkward.

‘Don’t be you saved me actually, Rita actually popped in on her way from dinner with her husband, don’t suppose I can encourage you to help me with these?’ Asked Barba opening the plastic bag on top his desk revealing two cheesecakes clearly from the Cheesecake Factory.

‘Don’t need to ask me twice’ you grinned all but running to the coffee cart Barba had set up, filling up both your usual mugs with the ever steaming hot brew, missing the fond look Barba shot you behind your back.

‘Now I don’t care what anyone says, this is the best way to spend a Friday night’ you grinned, practically vibrating in your seat after your first bite of the sweet treat.

Not getting any response you turned to man sat on the couch next to you, finding green eyes staring at you with the softest look, making you practically turn into a blushing mess at the intensity.

‘God, you’re so undeniably beautiful’ blurted out Barba.

‘I…I..’ you stuttered only to have Barba real back in shock.

‘Oh god, I’m sorry, that was… I’m sorry I’m not being perverted…. You must find me disgusting’ backtracked Barba quickly.

‘What? You compliment me then take it back, don’t be ridiculous’ you said immediately grabbing the man’s hand instantly.

‘Y/N’ sighed Barba almost sadly.

‘No… I mean it… because I kind of think the same about you’ you said squeezing the man’s hand.

‘I’m quite a bit older than you’ said Barba weakly, flipping his hand over in yours, fingers linked together.

‘Seriously, for a mouthy lawyer that was weak even for you’ you teased, earning a chuckle from the man.

‘It was wasn’t it’ chuckled Barba.

‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ You asked.

‘I honestly thought it was just a work thing for you, so I was just happy to have you as a friend, because at least then I could still love you’ said Barba.

‘Love me?’ You whispered, Barba blushing hotly.

‘I do…. Love you, I think you’re so incredible’ replied Barba softly.

‘Raf, I think you’re an amazing man…. I’m just… I’m so angry with myself for not saying something earlier’ you said, Barba chuckling softly shaking his head.

‘Me too carino me too’ smiled Barba letting go of your hand to cup the side of your face, using his thumb to stroke your skin.

Turning your head, you kissed the man’s lips palm, closing your eyes, keeping your face in the man’s hand. With your eyes still shut, you felt your face being carefully guided, your heart hammering in your chest. Finally, a warm set of lips softly pressed to yours.

It was just a simple kiss, nothing heated, but it was perfect, Barba broke away leaving his nose against yours, his forehead resting now lightly against yours.

‘I think cheesecake is going to become my favourite treat now’ you whispered opening your eyes.

‘Mine too’

[transwhorefinn]

I love albatrio so much. Even though they all have different traumas and backstories there’s a lot of overlap. They’re all so relatable and great characters with their own complexities. Their struggles are layered and dimensional.

Chip struggles with letting go of the past to focus on the people who are here with him in the present, wanting to be something else instead of himself, that faux insecure self-confidence to hide his insecurities that he will never be good enough as himself that in order to be Something he needs Arlin or Drey or the rest of the Blackrose Pirates. His unhealthy coping mechanisms, maybe his teasing of gill gives him some sort of superiority idk. In the beginning I was always like “haha bastard boy” but he’s been growing on me and I find him deeply relatable. His struggles with letting go is something almost everyone has to go through. Trying to find the balance between self confidence and narcissism. Trying to figure out who you are in the world, who you are in comparison to the people around you, trying to figure out if you will take the well worn dirt road or create your own legacy. Struggles almost every teenager can relate to.

Gillion struggles with similar things: his self worth, following this life that was laid out for him and do something for himself for once, I also do believe he has abandonment trauma. The choice between following authorities or taking the risk and do something different, dangerous, and something you might be shunned for. Living up to the expectations you were given and the ones you give yourself. Gillion’s expectations of himself are probably higher than any expectations the elders could’ve set for him. Everyone can relate to the struggle of balancing the things you want to do and the things you have to do, whether it be work vs leisure time or school vs childhood. His abandonment trauma is clear as day too. Putting up a tough act so his friends don’t see him as weak and leave him. I mean he was literally separated from his family. His reaction to Pretzel being gone. That comment he made in the BLOCK episode (“oh cool like when my parents dropped me off for training. You’ll come back though right?”). Not all of us have abandonment trauma but I’m sure everyone’s lost someone/something, had times where we needed someone but there was no one, or doubted our relationships sometimes.

Last but not least, Jay. She struggles with role confusion, again with the conform or do your own stuff, I’d say she comes off as the least insecure of the Riptide pirates. Her self-esteem never comes off as a way to make herself feel better than others or as an act she puts up to hide her flaws. Most, if not all her struggles come from her dad (no one is surprised). As someone with similar issues. Jay’s dilemma of her opinion about her dad feels so real and genuine unlike a lot of other portrayals ive seen. She doesn’t really hate her dad but realizes he isn’t the best either. She’s confused about their relationship and had a lot of difficulty deciding whether or not to cut him off, and I don’t believe Jay’s dad is intentionally being abusive (this is not me justifying anything he has done this is me explaining maybe the thought process) he likely grew up with this harsh mannerism of raising kids so it is just “normal” to him, he’s definitely scared to lose Jay as he lost Drey, emotionally he was not there for Jay but I highly doubt he even knows how to process his own mental/emotional issues. Too busy with his job to connect with his kids. Either way he still loves Jay (Just look at her wanted posters) to some degree. Jay probably knows this, but also knows his behavior wasn’t the best and can’t be excused. Letting go of family is hard and every little nice thing they do makes you question if you’re just overthinking and being insecure and every little bad thing they do makes you wonder where you’ll draw the line if you ever do. Cutting off toxic relationships (especially familial ones) is just like this. It’s not as simple as “this person is being bad i hate them and im leaving” because sometimes they’ll do something kind and it’ll make you doubt everything. Jay’s confusions and mixed feelings of her father, the difficulty of choosing to leave behind a toxic relationship, it’s all so real and very relatable as someone who struggles with similar issues. And ofc not everyone has daddy issues or whatever but I’m sure everyone’s been in a few relationships that just didn’t work out and you had to choose whether or not to let that person go.

Idk if anyone will read this long ass rant but have a nice day if you did, and remember that you aren’t alone. Peace.

[the-bau-quinjet]

heyy do you think you can do a steve rogers x reader where the rest of the avengers try to matchmake them because everyone ships them (& everyone knows that they're both in love with each other besides themselves LMAO)? it would be EXTRA amazing if you could make it such that the reader is smaller/shorter than steve? personally really love the height difference in a relationship but if not it's fine too! thank you so much, have a great day ahead xoxo

Set Us Up

Warnings: 2455

Word Count: crude language, but mostly fluff

a/n: This took me a hot minute because I couldn't think of ways for everyone to try and set them up lol, but I think this is super cute! I hope you have a great day too!!

Masterlist

"He totally has a thing for you! Nat, back me up." Wanda turned to the redhead.

You, Wanda, and Nat were supposed to be training. Instead, the two of them have been trying to convince you to make a move on Steve. As if that would ever happen.

"She's right." Nat replied calmly.

"Would you two stop gossiping and just train with me! Please!" You have never confirmed your crush on Steve, but that didn't mean your two best friends didn't know about it.

"Y/N, I'm serious. That man is crazy about you." Wanda tried again while Nat easily defended your attack.

"Wanda, he's my friend. That it." You refused to make eye contact, knowing she would she the longing in your eyes. Instead you kept advancing on Nat.

"Friends don't look at each other like that." Wanda smirked, knowing you'd fall into her trap.

"Like what?" You continued sparring with Nat.

"Like he wants to fuck you against any flat surface available." She stated matter-of-factly.

"Wanda!" You finally turned to her. Unfortunately, that was the point where Nat went on the offensive.

She easily tackled you to the ground, unable to stop her own momentum. She folded you like a pretzel, resulting in a very pitiful whine from you.

"Ow." You complained from the ground, not bothering with trying to get up.

"I know exactly what you need." Nat smirked devilishly. "Steve!" She called across the gym, only making you wince further.

"Steve! Can you do me a favor?" Nat asked the super soldier, knowing he was never one to turn down a friend in need.

"'Course, what do you need?" He made his way across the gym to where you were still sprawled out on the mats.

"Y/N just took a pretty bad beating. Can you help her stretch?" Her and Wanda wore matching smirks despite trying to hide them. "I'd do it, but I promised Wanda I'd help her with something, and we have to go now."

Steve barely had time to respond before the two women were making their way out of the gym.

"Hey, Y/N." He greeted you kindly, looming over your body which was still on the ground. "Are you okay?"

You huffed, glared at the door where your friends just abandoned you, and then smiled at Steve. "Yeah, Wanda just distracted me and you know what that means when you're sparring with Nat."

He grimaced slightly, imaging the beating you just experienced.

"I've definitely been there." He gestured for you to put your foot in his hand. "Here, give me your ankle."

You followed his instructions, lifting your left leg until he grabbed onto your ankle. He slowly pushed your leg forward, helping to stretch your hamstring.

You couldn't help but laugh at the way he had to bend over slightly to fully push on your leg.

"What's so funny?" He tickled your leg before gesturing for you to switch.

"Nothing. You're just really tall." You snickered again at his hunched over frame. Your foot didn't even reach his hips, meaning his back was arched at an odd angle to give him the correct leverage to help you stretch.

"Maybe you're just short. Ever think of that?" He raised a brow, dropping your right leg back to the floor. "C'mon, give me your hands."

You raised your arms up like a petulant child, knowing he would have to bend down to reach your hands.

He rolled his eyes at your childish behavior, but ultimately bent down to grasp your hands. He pulled you to your feet a bit too harshly causing your body to stumble into his.

Your head landed squarely against his chest, really showing off the height difference.

"See," he put a hand on top of your head. "You're just short."

You shoved him slightly, backing away from his warm body. "That may be true, but that doesn't mean you can go around saying it." You playfully glared at the much taller man.

"I'm sorry. Come with me, I'll make you a smoothie to make up for it."

Despite your best efforts, you couldn't keep the grin off your face.

"Deal."

You just knew Nat and Wanda would be all smirks when you inevitably filled them in on this whole encounter.

-

"Who moved all the mugs?" You muttered to yourself. You spent the last five minutes standing on the tips of your toes trying to reach the mugs that, for some reason, had been move to the very top shelf.

Then you spent another five minutes looking for the step stool you kept in the kitchen.

You were about to resort to climbing on top of the counter when Steve walked into the kitchen.

You didn't even have to ask for his help before he was walking up behind you and reaching for a mug. His body briefly brushed against yours as he pulled the mug from the shelf, plopping it down on the counter in front of you.

"Thank you." You smiled at him, unsure if you could form any additional words.

"Anytime, short stuff." He smirked.

"Hey! It's not my fault someone felt the need to reorganize the cabinets." You whined. "Who does that?"

"I think it was Tony." He chuckled. "He said something about helping two idiots realized they're in love." He shrugged.

"That man is so weird." The two of you laughed, completely oblivious to Tony's plan.

-

"You ready to go, punk?" Steve could tell just by the look on Bucky's face that something was up.

"What did you do, jerk?" He eyed him suspiciously.

"Nothing!" He quickly looked down the hall, knowing you and Sam were supposed to emerge any second.

"Sam! You promised you would take me to Coney Island today!" You followed him down the hall, not realizing Bucky and Steve were already in the living room.

"I know, but I can't! I have to fix my wings." He glanced at Bucky conspiratorially. "Tin man, Tony said he needs you in the lab. Something about updating the tech in your arm."

Bucky looked back at Steve.

"Sorry, man. Gotta go." Bucky went to leave, but turned back before he made it out of the doorway. "Why don't you and Y/N go?"

"That's a great idea!" Sam added on. "You two go have fun."

The two of them ran from the room together before you could protest.

"Looks like it's just you and me." You smiled at Steve, grabbing your purse and heading for the door. "You coming?"

"Definitely." He smiled right back at you before leading you to the car.

The car ride took a while, but it felt like no time at all while talking to Steve.

"What's your favorite part?" He gestured to the park map as the two of you walked in.

"I've actually never been before. That's why I was so bummed when Sam said he was busy." You looked around the park entrance, taking in all the bright colors and happy people.

"I'll just have to show you all of my favorite parts then." He smiled at the look of wonder on your face, slowly reaching for your hand.

"I'd like that." You bit your lip nervously, butterflies swarming in your stomach when he took your hand.

He showed you around the entire park, starting with the rides. You went on every ride you could, only stopping when a fan asked for an autograph or a picture from one or both of you.

"Those are all the best rides." He smiled confidently.

"Really? No ferris wheel?" You pouted a bit. "I've always wanted to ride a ferris wheel."

"Don't worry, we will." He grabbed your hand again. "It's better to save that for the end of the night. Right now, it's time for games."

You couldn't help but smile at his antics. He genuinely looked to be having the best time in the world, and you honestly felt the same way.

"Lead the way."

The two of you made your way to the arcade, where Steve let every kid beat him.

His face lit up with joy watching them celebrate beating Captain America at various carnival games. When the game seemed unbeatable, he would win and let the kid choose a prize.

At the last game, he whispered with one kid as you looked on suspiciously. The little boy grinned, nodding his head in complete seriousness before turning back to the game.

When Steve won, the little kid smiled bigger than anyone else had all day. Steve walked back over to you with an enormous gray teddy bear.

"Your losing streak ends." You gestured to the bear.

"Yeah, well little Michael over there said I needed to win a prize for my pretty friend. He said he'd throw the game for me." He spoke with complete seriousness, causing you to giggle.

"That might be the cutest thing I've ever heard." Your face was the epitome of heart eyes as you looked between Steve and the bear. You pulled him into a massive hug before finally stepping back and trying to calm down.

"What's next?" You grabbed the bear, holding it tightly in one arm.

"Food!" Again, he held your hand as he lead you around the park.

He walked with you along the boardwalk, pointing out various spots to get different foods. Some had been there since he was a kid, others were clearly newer.

"This used to be my favorite." He smiled fondly looking at the Nathan's Famous sign.

"Well then, what are we waiting for?" You walked confidently up to the window only to realize you had no idea what to order. "Steve! What should I get?"

He laughed at the panic on your face. Without even realizing, he put his arm around your shoulder, drawing you closer to him. You went easily, leaning into his touch.

"Can we get two Coney dogs and a large order of fries?" He asked the attendant taking orders. "Do you want anything to drink?" He looked down at you as though this were an everyday occurance.

"A slushie!" Your eyes went wide, a giddy kind of excitement growing in you.

"And two cherry slushies, please." He fished out his wallet with his free hand, still holding you close.

You moved to get money as well, but Steve shook his head. "This one's on me, sweetheart."

You all but melted at the pet name, hiding your smile by burying your head between your bear and his chest.

You signed a few more autographs and posed for more pictures while you waited for your food. A little kid came up to the two of you just as your order was called.

"I'll get it." You gestured for him to talk to the child.

"Captain America!" The little girl smiled widely when Steve crouched down to talk to her. "Are you on a date?"

Steve's face reddened at the question, but it made him think. "You know what, I think I am." He shook his head when he finally realized that Bucky and Sam set the two of you up without either of you realizing it.

"My mommy's gonna be sad. She said you're really handsome." The little girl laughed.

"Well, she's right. He is really handsome." You whispered conspiratorially as you returned with the food.

The little girl laughed before running back to her mom.

"C'mon, we can go sit on that bench." Steve gestured to an empty bench overlooking the beach. The two of you joked and laughed while you ate, but Steve couldn't stop thinking about the little girl's question.

"It's beautiful." You looked out over the sand. The sun was low in the sky, reflecting off the water.

"Breathtaking." Steve agreed, his eyes focused on you rather than the view.

"It's later in the day. Does that mean it's time for the ferris wheel?" You smiled widely, a common occurrence for the day.

"Yep. The ferris wheel is the very last thing to do before leaving." He threw away the trash from your meal before taking your hand in his.

"Why's that?" You looked up at him curiously.

"It's slow enough for you to enjoy the ride, even after eating. Plus, you get the best view from the top when the sun is setting." The two of you stood in line as he explained his reasoning.

"I guess you really know all the best tricks." You smiled at him, hugging the bear to avoid any embarrassing actions.

"Not really. Just the old ones." He joked.

"Steve Rogers! Did you just joke about your age?" You gaped at him playfully.

"Hey! If I can't joke about your height, you can't joke about my age." He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense.

"I guess that's fair." You nudged him with your shoulder, but he remained solid as a rock.

The two of you sat next to each other in the cart, placing the stuffed bear across from you.

"You were right. This is an incredible end to a marvelous day." You looked out over the park, taking in the pink and orange hues from the sunset.

"Y/N... I think Sam and Bucky set us up." He looked at you nervously.

"Yeah, they did a great job of it too." You replied easily, having realized much earlier than Steve what was going on.

"You're not upset?" He questioned, a confused look on his face. You decided to respond with an unfamiliar amount of bravery.

"Steve, I had an incredible day. The only way I'd be upset is if you didn't kiss me at the end of it." You smiled shyly.

"What if I kissed you now, even though it's not technically the end?" His smile matched your own.

"That'd be okay too."

"You both leaned in, meeting in the middle for a soft and romantic first kiss. His lips moved against yours as if they were made for each other.

"Steve?" You pulled back for air.

"Yes?" He smiled blissfully, forehead still pressed against yours.

"I think we're the idiots in love with each other." You whispered softly, thinking back to what Tony had said.

"I think you might be right."

He smiled, pulling you to kiss you again.

"Steve?" You pulled back again, a bright smile on your face.

"Yes?" His eyes remained closed, just breathing in the moment.

"The ride is over..."

His eyes snapped open, a blush painting his cheeks when the ride attendant awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Sorry!" He jumped from the ride, grabbing the bear in one hand and you in the other.

"Where to now?" You questioned, laughing as he pulled you through the park.

"Home, so I can end this date right."

Permanent tag list:

@averyhotchner

@jesuswasnotawhiteman

@strawberryspence

@sebastnstn

[truglori]

Game Night...

(Heads I win...Tails you lose)

Synopsis: Game night at Erik’s crib with a twist...

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Plus size OC

Warning: Language, Smutt

A.N- Inspiration was this picture

It was Game Night at Erik’s. He held them every other Saturday night and it was starting to become a ritual for Kaila to attend within the last month. When being surrounded by coworkers ,who became good friends, food, drinks, and music how could anyone turn down a time like this. Along with his beautiful luxurious bachelor’s pad Erik made a pretty good host.

Everything from wings with different flavors, a meat and cheese board, warm soft cinnamon pretzel bites, chicken and beef quesadillas, as well as different chocolates and chilled high class wine ,that Kaila wasn’t used to, had covered his antique walnut wooden dining table. Like she thought, he was a great host who had great taste and wasn’t cheap at all.

Standing in front of the miniature buffet with an empty plate Kaila was indecisive on what to get and how much. Still fresh to the friend group she was conscious on how much she ate in front of people that she wasn’t really comfortable with yet. Out of the six times she’s been here this was only her second time eating with them after getting pressured by her cubicle buddy ,Celina, telling her to make a plate before everything was gone.

Hearing the chatter coming from the livingroom, Kaila decided on a few slices of the quesadillas instead of the wings. She didn’t want to look like a pig knowing that she would try to suck the sauce off of her fingers afterwards. Filling up her red plastic cup with the cool wine she headed back into the huge living area. Spotting her purse and coat she sat in her spot and cuddled up with her belongings.

“See I told you, the food is good.” Celina smiled while sipping on her wine. She brought a hand to her hair stroking the box braids and giggled.

Kaila noticed that she had three cups prior so she knew that she was starting to become loose.

Laughing with her, Kaila shook her head and dug into her finger food. Looking at the small group she wondered how she was able to fit in with them. The group consisted of three women and three guys, Erik including as one of them. Every single person in their clique was extremely attractive and in shape. Her body type did not belong at all. There was always rumors going around the office about them setting up date nights to throw orgy parties. At least that’s what people assumed because they were so tight and never invited anyone else.

But Kaila had to take a chance and ask, since her desk buddy was a part of the famous group. So one day she asked Celina if it was true only to earn one of the most hysterical laughs in her face. She shut it down immediately and informed her the reason behind their closeness was because they all trained and got hired for their jobs at the exact same time and have been inseparable since.

Celina thought it was funny and invited her out so she could see that she wasn’t lying. Kaila refused the first few times but gave in after Celina had another one of their members, Leah, tag team against her insisting that she’d come. Kaila wasn’t an extrovert at all. Her regular day included work, talking on the phone with her baby sister who was away for college, and tv time with her cat, Snuggles.But she wanted to change that so she made Game Night at Erik’s a part of her weekend routines.

“Y’all mufuckas ready to get this bitch started.” Erik walked in finally making his presence known after being upstairs for half an hour. He was changed out of his work attire into something more relaxed. Nike grey sweats, a crisp white tshirt with his gold chains falling over it, and his Nike slides to match. His dreads were out of the braids that he only kept in while he was at work, now they were wild and free.

Kaila took in his frame. She watched as his muscles flexed from the slightest movements. Twisting open his personal bottle of Hennessy, she watched him take a long swig and shaking his head at the taste afterwards. She did a short giggle when she seen him hiss making his gold canines show. When Erik’s eyes turn to her direction she quickly averted her gaze to everyone else praying that she didn’t get caught staring.

This crush that she had for him was starting to be too much. At first she thought it would go away once she would find out that his body and personality didn’t mix but it became worst when she started to hang out with them. Erik was nothing like how she thought of him to be. Before hand she for sure figured him out as a smug and arrogant jerk but he was the total opposite. He was such a gentleman, sweet, and a charmer when it came to the ladies.

The littlest things he did like hold the door for her, or making sure that she wasn’t the last one going into a building whenever they went out for lunch to grab coffee. Kaila was falling for all of it. But after hanging out with them for so long Kaila noticed a few things about him. Yes, Erik was a sweetheart but he had a rough edge to him. When the drinks were in his system Erik liked to talk his shit, and he was nasty with it too. Of course all of the girls in the group would openly let him know that he could fuck if he wanted to. All except Kaila, she would never make a statement as bold as that no matter how much alcohol she had.

“About time nigga. The hell was you doing back there?” One of the guys, Tyler asked sitting in between Leah’s legs on the floor.

“My shit, my business bitch ass nigga.” Erik retorted playfully. He walked in front of his coffee table sitting in his chair. On the table had a display of all types of games. He sorted through them taking his time.

“Erik hurry up and pick a gamee.” Celina whined as she still sipped.

Glancing up he eyed everyone briefly. “The fuck is it, rush Erik night or sumn shit. Y’all niggas know without this y’all wouldn’t have shit else to do so calm the fuck down for I throw all y’all ass out.” He laughed drinking out his bottle.

“Hold up I didn’t say shit. I hope that’s not for everyone.” The thick dark skin girl who’s name was Keisha came in and sat down. Kaila thought she was the prettiest.

“Nah not you Keisha, you know you my boo.” He smirked.

She giggled doing the “period” motion with her hand. Kaila smiled sitting her plate on the floor beside her making a mental reminder to throw it away before she leaves.

Erik cleared his throat picking up a box. “Aight I got one. Do or Drink!” Sitting the other games to the side he placed the box in the middle.

Groanes and curses came from the other people. Kaila faced them amused with their reaction wondering what was wrong with the game he chosed.

“No Erik you always pick this game.” Leah flopped her hands to the side of her.

“Yeah I don’t like this one bae. You be making everybody drink and get drunk while playing this. Can we play something else.” Keisha sighed picking up her glass.

“No y’all only get drunk cause y’all mufuckas don’t know how to drink or hold ya liquor. Besides she ain’t never played this with us yet.” He spoke sorting the cards.

All of the attention went towards Kaila. Trying her best to shrink in her side of the couch she felt her cheeks heat up. Kaila hated when she was put on the spotlight in front of everybody. Bringing her cup to her mouth she sipped some hoping to calm her nerves.

“Kaila you ain’t never played this with us?” Troy asked.

Shaking her head she smiled timidly. “No but I guess I will tonight.”

“Kaila the game is real simple, all you have to do is draw a card, read it aloud so that everyone can hear you and you can either choose to do what it says or drink instead. Don’t worry about all that extra shit. Got it?” Erik asked her shuffling the deck.

“Yeah I got it.” She answered softly.

When he eyed her up and down part of her had to clenched her thighs to keep the wetness she felt down there from damping her panties and the other part wanted to run away from his gaze. The way he looked with his dreads covering his eyes was so enticing and it had her excited. Something she haven’t felt with a man in almost two years.

There was an order on how the rotation went. It was Celina, Keisha, Troy, Tyler, Leah, Erik, and lastly Kaila. She was okay with going last just to see how the game was to be played. It was easy to catch on to after the first few turns. Some of the draws that Kaila picked up were to risky for her so she had to drink for not doing them. Because she didn’t drink hard liquor Erik allowed her to take shots of the wine but for everyone else it was either tequila or some of his Hennessy. She was definitely starting to feel warm from the drinking she’s been doing.

Now it was going on the second round and it was Leah’s go,she had to draw a card. “Okay it says let the group go through your phones photo gallery for 60 seconds. Do this or take two shots?” She threw her card down looking for the shot glass.

Erik jumped up from his seat. “Unh uh hand it over. You passed the last time. Gimme your fuckin phone.” He chuckled walking near her.

Kaila laughed watching Leah try to keep her phone away from him but failed due to his tall and bulky stature taking it clean straight out of her hands. He held the IPhone to her face unlocking it and went to her gallery. Erik’s eyes went from entertained to lustful within seconds. Sucking in his bottom lip he glanced back at Leah.

“Damn girl. Yo shit pretty as fuck.” His low voice crept throughout the room. His eyes traveled down to her covered area.

Kaila, knowing what he was referring to, felt herself get jealous and turned on at the same time. She wanted him to look at her like that and speak to her the same way but she was to shy to say anything.

“Nigga let me see.” Tyler hopped up standing next to him. His mouth dropping when he saw whatever that was on the screen. “Damn Leah.”

Rolling her eyes Leah snatched her phone from their view. “Okay y’all niggas not bout to be fantasizing over my pussy.” She sat back on her end of the couch.

Erik shook his head walking to his chair. Picking up a card he read silently before trying to pick a new one. Celina sat up when she saw him and called him out.

“Uh Erik you never skip cards. What you doing baby boy?” She sat on the edge.

Erik smack his lips. “Nah not that one. Plus it’s my shit I could do whatever I want.” He spoke lowly going to the next card.

Keisha got up walking over to him. “No let me see the card because I ain’t never seen you skip one a day since I met you.” She tried picking it up but Erik snatched it away.

“Chill Keisha, watch out.” He grabbed her wrist lightly.

Keisha laughed. “Boy stop playing with me and let me see.”

Distracted by her going back and forth with him Erik wasn’t aware of Celina sneaking around the other side of him and successfully grabbing the card. She ran behind the couch and read it.

“Let’s see why Stevens was act like a pussy.” She slurred her words. “It’s says motorboat the person to the right of you for 15 seconds, even if they don’t have boobs. Do this or take three shots?”

Everyone looked to the right of him. Sitting at the end of the couch left only one person, Kaila. For the second time that night all eyes was on her. She wished that she could find a hole to crawl in and just die but that wasn’t possible for her. Hearing Celina read the card had her wishing that she would have just left it alone when he skipped the first time. She was embarrassed but she didn’t know if it was because the card dared him to put his face in her titties or that he wanted to skip the turn.

“Celina sit your drunk ass down and just leave the card alone.” Leah grabbed her arm and pulled her down.

“Oops sorry.” She burped putting the card back.

There was silence for a few minutes. For almost the whole night Kaila skipped her turn or declined when someone had to do something to her causing them to lose. She didn’t want to be the party pooper of the hour so she spoke up.

“You can do it if you want.” Her voice coming out lightly. Avoiding the stares from the others her eyes stayed on Erik’s.

His brows lifted up surprised. “Look don’t let Celina’s drunk ass pressure you into something you not down for Kaila.” The way he said her name made her squirm and Erik peeped it himself.

“She wasn’t but if you don’t want to I get it-“ She stopped her sentence when he stood up from his chair.

His body was now in front of hers. Kaila couldn’t help quickly glancing at the print that stuck out through his sweats. The feeling of his hand under her chin tilted it up startled her a bit.

“You wanna do this out here or we can go somewhere private? It’s up to you.”

The room was now quiet as everyone watched the two under the influence and yet still drinking from their cups. Kaila nodded as she stood up signaling that she would rather do it somewhere not in front of them. Stepping to the side she went in front of him and felt his hand on the small of her back.

“Don’t take longer than 15 seconds.” Celina laughed sticking her tongue out when they briefly looked back at her.

Kaila looked around aimlessly as Erik led her down his dark hallway. The only thing that could be seen was the faint wall art from the infrequent lightening outside that came through his windows due to the rainstorm they were going to have tonight. The closer they were to their destination the more the butterflies in Kaila’s stomach start to appear one by one.

“Here we are.” Erik pushed a tall black door opened revealing his master bedroom.

Kaila didn’t stop her eyes from wondering as she looked around. The theme color to his room was black and red. His king sized bed was placed in the middle with a Versace Medusa logo cover resting on top. Laying on the ground next to it was a large black and gold Persian rug. But what caught her attention was the wide mirror that was over his bed.

“You have a nice room Erik.” She sent him a light smile standing in the middle of the floor.

Erik closed his door with the weight of his body. He smirked watching her stand there timidly barely keeping eye contact with him. Erik knew that Kaila had some sort of crush on him but he never said anything about it because he didn’t want to embarrass her. She was always shy around him but was okay with talking to everyone else in the group. Erik couldn’t stand that shit. Watching her round face give her sweet smile to Troy and Tyler always made him jealous. He wanted to be the one to put it on her face but could never get the chance with her always running away from him.

Before she became a part of their group Erik already noticed Kaila around the office. The curve of her wide hips and thickness of her thighs that she would cover up lured him into her. There would be days when she wasn’t wearing her turtleneck and he could finally get a peak at her smooth and chocolate double D’s along with a whiff of her perfume. Erik’s mouth would began to salvitate as he became curious wondering how they would taste. Now he had the chance.

“Thank you. I appreciate that baby.” He chuckled walking to stand in front of her.

Kaila’s eyes averted down at the new pet name. Looking back up, his russet eyes met her chestnut colored ones. His teeth held the full bottom flesh between them. The moment she inhaled for the first time with their closeness Kaila smelled his cologne that sent signals down to her vagina. She could feel the sticky wetness that he was created and he hadn’t even touch her. Her chest rose and fell as her breath hiked up.

“So you ready? It’s only 15 seconds.” The sound of his deep voice had her doing kegals on an imaginary dick.

“Yeah let’s do this.”

The sudden movements of his hands going up to her breast spooked her. Wearing an off the shoulder ribbed dark grey long sleeve tub top Kaila was able to feel his fingertips against her skin. She did a soft moan from the contact hoping that he didn’t hear.

“Big ass fucking titties.” Erik spoke out loud not caring if she heard him or not.

He began to grope them. Bringing his hands to the cuff of them he played with her breast. Lifting them up and down. All of a sudden he was like a kid in a candy store. Kaila could feel her nipples harden on his hands, that frequently rubbed against them. She bit her lip.

Erik smirked watching her get aroused in front of him. He could feel the pebbles turning into rocks from his touch and when he saw her suck on her bottom lip his dick jumped. Wasting no time he lifted her breast up and dove straight in face first. With the combination or her soft titties and her scent Erik’s dick started to get rock hard. He knew then that he now wanted to add titty fucking to the list of nasty shit he wanted to do to her.

“Mm.” Kaila tried her best hide her moan. She didn’t want him to think she was a prude for moaning at something as little as this. It was all a part of a game for goodness sake, but she couldn’t help it. Reaching up she gripped his dreads holding on to him while he moved his head side to side.

The fifteen seconds was long and over with but he was still down there. What was only supposed to be a quick playful motorboat session turned into love bites and delicate sucks. Erik took his time placing a kiss on to each breast. Tracing his tongue over them and then giving a soft suck. He could hear her trying to suppress her moans, but he was working for them and wanted to hear them clearly.

Reaching behind her he slid his hands around her thick waist and then traveled down to her ass. Gripping her cheeks roughly through her leggings he pulled her body into his pressing her down on his thick and solid member. Still continuing his sucks on her breast he groaned hearing her give in.

“Erikk.” Kaila felt the flutters in her stomach and her toes curl when she felt his package bump her area.

“Hmm?” He was now moving up to her exposed neck never losening his grip on her ass.

“The game.” Her words came out as a whine.

“Fuck it. You can’t tell me you not tryna let me fuck right now. Letting me suck on you and shit. I know you wet as fuck down there.” The confidence he spoke with had her dripping even more.

Kaila brought her hands up to his biceps. She turned her head to give him more space to kiss. Squeals left her mouth every time he would grip her cheeks separating them. Kaila wanted to submit badly but was still undecided as she worried about the others listening to what could happen in this room.

Erik pulled away from her seeing that she was hesitant. That’s when an idea popped into his head. His dick was too hard for him to leave without feeling any type of warmth. Going into his nightstand he found the coin and flipped it before walking back to her.

“Alright I have this coin here that’ll decide on what I can receive from you. Since you’re so worried about that dumb ass game out there. We can play our own.”

Kaila’s knitted with confusion but she was curious.

“What type of game?” Her soft voice asked.

Erik licked his lips as she watched hers move. He tugged on her lower lip with his thumb and index finger before showing her the coin and handing it to her.

“If it flips on head I get some pussy and if it flips on tails I get some head. You down?” Stepping in her space he bent his head kissing on her neck. She was so soft to him and it was hard for him to stop.

Kaila observed the gold naughty coin. She never tried anything like this in her 24 years of living. It was new and exciting and with Erik being the person behind it tempting her, she wanted to give it a chance.

“Okay. You flip?” She handed the coin back rubbing her sweaty palms up and down her black leggings.

Taking the coin he strolled over to his bed. Sitting on the edge of it he patted the space next to it offering her a seat. Kaila worked up the nerve to walk over from the liquid courage that she was feeling from the wine. It was making her feel frisky and horny all in one. She sat next to him and smiled sheepishly.

Erik leaned back and smirked. He wrapped an arm behind her as he got ready to flip the coin. “Heads I win...Tails you lose.” He chuckled as she understood the double meaning.

He tossed it up just a few feet above them and caught it quickly with the same hand.

“Hold your hand out.” He demanded and placed the coin flat on her palm. There was a pause for a few seconds before he lifted his hand. It landed on tails.

“Hope you know how to suck some dick.” He reached his hand behind her smacking her ass.

Kaila got up and stood in front of him. Rolling her eyes at his cockiness she pulled her braids up into a bun wrapping them around to keep them out of the way. She pushed him back causing him to lean on his elbows. Getting on her knees he started to rock his leg side to side. Tugging at his sweats she pulled them down along with his briefs making his semi-hard long and girthy length pop out. From the size alone Kaila got intimidated know that if he knew how to work with it he would make her go crazy.

Erik pulled on the hem of his shirt hiking it up to show his abs. He reached down grabbing the base of his dick whirling it back and forth. “I don’t wanna feel no teeth. You hear me?” His command coming out crystal clear.

Nodding her head Kaila leaned forward giving him a gentle kiss. The thick mushroom tip felt good against her lips. She hasn’t been with a man in almost two years so she wasn’t sure if she still had it. But tonight she would find out knowing that Erik would have no problem letting her know.

Getting her mouth wet she let a long sting of saliva drip on to his length. Sticking out her tongue she ran it against the sides wetting his stick up before taking him into her mouth whole. Erik was a challenge so she wasn’t going to get him down in one fit. She’d have to work her way down. She let him slide in and out of her mouth twirling her head when she would reach his tip. Taking one of her free hands she stroked his shaft while shoving her other hand in her leggings rubbing her clit. The feeling of having a dick grow in her mouth made Kaila’s pussy drip and nipples hard.

Looking up she watched as Erik kept his eyes on her. His jaws tightening from her locked jaw that she had on him. The ‘gawking’ sound coming from her made his balls jump. Erik’s eyes now became low as he reached for her braids unraveling the bun and created a ponytail with his fist.

“That’s how you sucking Daddy dick?” He asked surprise as he now sat up leaning on his free hand watching her perform her work of art.

When she felt him hit the back of her throat she answered him on purpose so that he could feel the vibrations. “Mmhm.”

“Ahh SHIT!” Erik threw his head back feeling how her throat had clenched around him. Kaila surprise the fuck out of him. He never expected a head monster behind that quiet little desktop bookworm facade she had put on, but everyone know that they be the main freaks.

She was sucking his shit sloppy just the way he liked it. Her tight warm jaws had his heads in the clouds. Kaila’s head game was starting to get so good Erik felt like he had to do or say something to throw her off.

“Let Daddy slut this muthafucking throat out....gah damnn.” Standing up he lifted his crisp white shirt up to his mouth tucking it in between his teeth. Grabbing her braids and making a ponytail with one hand he cupped her chin with the other as he fucked her throat.

When the spit began to run down her chin and hit her top it reminded Erik of her big chocolate melons that he wanted to fall asleep on. He had got to feel them now he wanted to see them.

“Pull them big ass fuckin titties out.” He spoke with his shirt still clenched in his teeth making his dimples show.

Kaila heard comply to his orders. She pulled the top down and her strapless bra up and began to play with her nipples for him. Using the spit that dripped on her chest she rubbed it on her pebbles as her mouth became wetter with her arousal. She brought a hand back into her pants and tweaked her nub.

Erik watched her play with herself knowing that head wasn’t the only thing he was trying to get from her for the night. If she could suck dick this good he only imagine what that pussy was feeling like.

“Mouth to fuckin good to not try and fuck. You gon give me sum pussy after?” His hips still stroking in her mouth. Kaila tried to push him out by his thighs but he pushed her hands away. “Move them fuckin hands and answer my question.”

Closing her eyes trying to breathe through her nose she nodded her head. Erik smirked as he pulled out of her mouth. Dick standing up and dripping with her saliva.

“Get yo ass on this bed.” He took off his shirt and stepped out of his sweats and underwear leaving him in his naked glory.

Kaila got on the bed, kicking of her shoes she laid on her back looking at herself in his mirror that was above them before she felt him pulling at her leggings. She squealed from the quick action lifting up to help him get them off. The moment the air touched her thighs she grew self conscious of her appearance. Erik noticed when he opened her thighs climbing between them.

“Instead of being worried bout how thick these thighs are you should be worried about how you gon take this dick.” He leaned up and tapped his heavy meat on her covered clit.

“Ooh.” Out of reaction Kaila moaned and shut her thighs closed.

Erik grabbing them and pushing them back to their previous position. “Unh uh. Open ya fuckin legs. I know you got some good warm wet ass pussy. I can feel the heat coming off that muthafucka and I ain’t pull ya panties to the side yet.”

His dirty talk was making her pussy throb. Kaila wanted to feel that heavy dick split her open even if she cried right after. Erik spoke with big dick energy because he know he had big dick to deliver.

“I want some dick.” Her shy hushed words coming out. Kaila didn’t usually speak like this but Erik brought it out of her.

He smirked and grabbed her the back of her thighs and lifted them up pushing them on her stomach. “Oh you gon get this dick, but I wanna eat this pussy first.”

Without warning he bent his head down between her thighs. Using his teeth he dragged her panties to the side. Kaila jump feeling his breath on her lower lips. She started to brace herself when she felt a long lick go up and down her slick coated slit. Taking his hand he used it to separate her meaty flesh. Her natural juices sticking to the sides

Erik groaned biting his lip. “Mm I know you be making niggas drown in this shit.” He watched her hole open and closed as he spoke to it.

Spitting on her clit he went straight to sucking on it. Erik had to stop her legs from snapping on his head. He used the all the upper strength he had to hold her thick thighs down all the while never letting up on her clit. Keeping his mouth around her he flicked the bud repeatedly. Her juices started to drip out already soaking his beard. The smell of her sex made his dick jump with anticipation. He was ready to feel her in some type of way. Bringing his tongue down he began to tongue fuck her tight hole. She clenched down on him as he slid in and out of her walls. Using his thumb he rubbed her clit adding to her pleasure

“Ohh fuuckk....I’m about to cum babyy.” Kaila covered her mouth to try and lower her whining moans but the way he stuck his tongue in her made it impossible.

“Let that shit out.” Smacking her inner thigh he went back sucking her clit. Erik felt how tight she was on his tongue. He knew he had to open her up a bit to get her ready for his dick. He took two fingers and slowly worked them into her.

Kaila lifted her hips to meet his strokes as she felt herself come undone on his fingers. The suction he was applying on her clit brought tears to her eyes. Her legs shook already giving out. Erik lifted up bringing his fingers to his mouth sucking her essence.

“I’ll have game night every day just to get up in this pussy.” He rubbed his tip against her clit. Using her natural lubricant he made himself slick enough and sat at her tight opening. Erik lifted her thighs back to as far as they were able to go and used the weight of his hips and thrusted inside of her.

“Ahh FUCK!! Gah damn. Wait a minute.” He pulled out instantly and closed his eyes. He chuckled lowly shaking his head. “You got me fucked up if you think I’m not beatin this shit down.” He gripped Kaila’s thighs pulling her to the edge of the bed. He had her at an angle and was standing up.

Kaila squeaked. “Erik wait don’t go too deep-“ She was cut off feeling him sink inside of her. Her arms flailing over as she gripped his sheet. Mouth ajar and formed into a silent ‘o’ as she felt herself getting stretched open to max she’s ever been.

—

Erik wasn’t playing when he said he was going to beat her pussy up. The size or weight of her body didn’t stand a chance to him. He was in beast mode as he drilled her shit in. Kaila’s cry’s and moans fell on deaf ears as he was hitting her spot. No matter how much pushing at his chest she did, it didn’t change the pace or motion he was going in. She had already came on his dick two times but that didn’t mean anything to him.

Kaila whimpered as she brought her hands to his hips to try and stop him. “Daddyyy please l-I can’t.” She brought a hand up to her mouth and bit on her knuckles.

Erik ignored her knowing that she was only speaking because of the sensitivity of her pussy started to probably grow higher the more he stroked her out. The minute he felt her pussy wrapped around his dick Erik got stuck. Her warm and gushy walls clenching him every time he tried to pull out. There was no way she wanted him out of this pussy.

“Move ya fucking hand and take some dick.” He barked as his dreads hung over his eyes and chain swung low. He pulled out tapping on her clit only to slide back in deeper this time.

“Unh..okayy.” She cried frustrated that she couldn’t run

He had her thick frame bended up like a pretzel. Looking between their bodies that was starting to sweat up, Erik watched the way he slid in and out of her. Her coat attached on to his dick. The way he could see her pussy throb around him. But the way she would involuntarily clenched her walls around him when he would pull out only leaving his tip in had her flipping Erik’s crazy switch.

Erik wanted to laugh when he saw the tremble in her lower lip and her tears coming out the corner of her eyes. He was giving her that good dick and he loved watching her get ruined in front of his face. Leaning over her he started to suck her nipples while his stroke never faltered.

Glancing up at the cieling Kaila watched him stroke deep inside of her in the mirror. The rotation of his hips along with his slight curve he had on his dick was sending her to another dimension. He was digging so deep inside of her it had her mind making up scenarios of having a family with him. It was the way he stroked her and fed on her nipples at the same time that had her seeing stars on his wall.

Kaila gripped his dreads. She moaned and whimpered with panted breaths. She couldn’t control the level of her voice. When his strokes were short and fast she’d moan but when he started tapping at her bottom her toes would curl and she’d whimpered and shake underneath him. Kaila didn’t have a clue when she would be able to find another person to hit it the way he did or if there would be another at all.

“Ohh daddy....you so deep in my pussy.” Her sexy moans in his ear had Erik ready to bust. He lifted from her tittes and gave her a nasty kiss. Tongue and all. Kaila moaned and clenched down onto him. Erik’s fingers dug into her skin and sucked on her lip.

“You gon let me nut in this tight ass pussy?” He whispered in her neck.

Kaila shook her head yes willing to agree with anything while he was laying that pipe on her. “Cum in me daddy.”

Erik wanted to hold off but the pussy was hitting too good. He stood back up and stroked until he bottomed out inside her. He’d always get his best nuts when he would go deep. Tucking his lip into his mouth his deep long strokes started to slow feeling his balls tightened. Erik closed his eyes when she gripped his meat and pulling his seed right out of him.

“Fuck!” He groaned and continued to stroke his nut out until he was empty. He pulled out of her with her cream coating his member.

His dick was still hard. Kaila was laying in the same position. Her thighs sore and unable to close from staying open that long. Sitting up she rested on her palms to observe him. Erik’s eyes was glued to her pussy before taking his hand and rubbing her clit.

“I can’t stay out this shit.” He licked his lips.

Kaila shyly smiled as she was about to speak when she heard laughing on the other side of the door.

“Now y’all niggas know them 15 seconds been up.” Celina stated loudly before laughing along with the others.

Her hand covered her mouth as embarrassment clouded her face. She pushed his hand away.

“See Erik I told you.” Kaila whined getting up.

“Wait,where you going?” He asked stepping in front of her.

“I’m going back to the game.”

“We not done here yet. Now come flip this coin to see what you could get. This head...or... this dick.”

_____________________________________

Please excuse any mistakes!

(Going to have to edit this later)

Tag-list

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[spasmsofthought]

flashes. (dick grayson x reader)

I’m not really well-versed in DC, at all, but I wanted to give this a shot. let me know what you think! It’s a bit of a mess, so please take this with a grain of salt and some grace. sorry if he feels ooc; I tried my best but I am by no means an expert or even an amateur. please be kind. idk if i’ll write anymore for him, but i wanted to try. it might be trash but it’s out there now xo

-- 

It’s not like Gotham is known for being a walk in the park. The city is all alleys in the middle of the night, dark vapors rising from sewers, and secrets in the shadows. At least, in your experience. 

There were no gated communities or fences to keep the darkness out in the apartment complex you lived in with your family. Only survival and common sense keeps you returning to your bed and food on the table.

So, when your younger (genius) brother is offered a scholarship to Gotham Academy on what feels like a whim, the world shifts. 

When your mother still works, though, it means you are the de-facto adult during the day. Your job keeps your busy in the mornings, hers during the afternoon and night. You’re just getting into learning what it’s like to handle a job and bills of your own, even though you’re still living with your family (part of it is to save money, part of it is because you just don’t want to leave). Your family is the only real home you have ever known. Why leave to only find inadequate housing where you have to worry about your safety and theirs separately?

So, like every month, you swap out of your work clothes, put on your newest (at least 2 years old) pair of jeans on, the only blouse you own that hasn’t faded or stretched or shrunk from countless wash cycles, and grab the bag you’ve stored in its own special place in the cabinet by your family’s loud, old, run-down fridge. 

You chance a ride on the bus, hopeful for no public catastrophes today. You listen to your small, but loved, playlist through the one earbud that works during the ride and you almost want to leap with joy when you step back down on concrete like this is what it is like everyday.

The architecture is a thing to behold. There is no wonder why this is acclaimed as the most prestigious private school in Gotham. Light is everywhere, and it’s like the outside world doesn’t exist. Every month you step on this campus it’s like you’ve never seen it before.

The grounds are meticulously groomed, everything in lines and straight edges. Concrete and nineteenth century buildings both cast heavy, sharp shadows in the late afternoon sun. There are some students lingering about, all grouped up and chattering in their similar uniforms. Compared to public art, haphazard graffiti, and buildings of all shapes and sizes, this place feels foreign. Different. It makes you feel strange and unwelcome; like entering a different world altogether. 

When you enter the pristine, elegant office, the entrance door propped open, there’s two figures you immediately spot: the secretary and the man standing in front of her. Your brother is yet to be found. He’s running late again. 

“Hi, hun, take a seat,” Grace’s sweet voice soothes from her position behind the desk. “He should be here any minute.” The man standing in front and a little to the right of her glances behind for second, casually swiping a look at you, before he turns forward again. 

“Thanks, Grace,” You exhale as you sit down. 

The chairs are nice, soft fabric and cushioned, but small. You so desire to bring up a leg to draw close to you, but it’s impossible without making yourself a human pretzel. And you don’t want to dirty it with your less than perfect shoes so, instead, you chose to bring the bag onto your lap and you pick at your cuticles, resisting to bring your nail to your mouth and chew on it anxiously. 

There’s never been anyone else in here when you’ve come before. Grace can make polite chatter, but then she leaves you in relative silence. It makes you feel anonymous. The man uttering sweet words to the secretary and then glancing at you again before sitting down next to you does not. You stop fidgeting with your hands and intertwine them together instead. 

A flash of the ceiling’s fluorescent lighting on glass against your eyes is what you first get a taste of, then all polish and silver, or something like it, cradling a wrist. The watch looks heavy, expensive. It looks like it could buy your family a newer, safer, apartment in a suburbia far away from here. 

“Hey,” Smooth as honey it drips out, and you are drawn to blue eyes and ebony hair. There’s a softness to his face and his eyes are warm. It would only take an hour, you think before you stop the thought from going any further. An hour to do what? You’re not sure, but the list expands the longer you take him in.

The first thing you ever learned on the streets when you walked by yourself to work was how to be aware, vigilant; on guard. Men were unpredictable creatures who were driven by greed or lust or power, and any of the good ones were swooped up and carried away to better things or dead before any second glances could take place. Or carrying on just fine behind their high fences and impenetrable walls. Just because this one introduces himself first does not mean he has proven otherwise. 

“Hi,” is all you can offer, a quirk of lips to his gesture of kindness.

You glance towards to door before your eyes make their way back to him. The gesture doesn’t offend him. There’s a familiarity to his face, but you decide to not spend time right now trying to figure it out. It already only tells you one thing: this guy is way out of your league. 

Grace gets up from her seat, rounds her desk, and makes her way out of the office, leaving you two alone. You watch her the entire time. 

“You waiting for someone?” 

“Yeah,” You nod even as the word comes out, “My brother.” 

He leans back like he’s got all the time in the world, and there’s a perusal that makes you taste butterflies and gulp down caution at the same time. You wonder if he saw the scuff marks and stains on your worn-out sneakers, or if he notices that you still haven’t had the chance to wash your three-day old hair and that’s why it’s up and back, and that your blouse is definitely from the clearance rack at Goodwill.

“Your favorite one?” 

Out of self-preservation, you try to hide the reaction to the humor you feel, “My only one.”

“I think that’s the same thing.” You almost want to roll your eyes. But there’s a genuineness in his conversation, like he means the words he’s saying to you. Like this isn’t a game. 

“Sure,” You shrug, “You’re allowed to be wrong.” 

“My name’s Richard.” It’s old-fashioned. It’s something you don’t really hear rolled off of tongues in your neck of the woods, that’s for sure. A hand comes out and rests halfway between you and him, and it’s one of the most graceful things you’ve ever witnessed in your entire life. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” You smile. Your hands stay clasped in your lap. 

“You gotta earn a handshake from my sister,” A voice pops up from the open door way. You swing your head around and watch for a moment as your brother makes his way towards you.

“Hi, J,” Your stand, open your arms wide, bag moved from your lap into one of your hands. His solid presence allows a brief hug before he steps back again. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude--” 

The man sitting next to you has chosen to rise as well and you’re closer than you thought you would be when you turn back to him. You notice now that your height means your eyes literally meet his lips straight on. There’s a curve of a smirk there for a flash of a second before it straightens back out into the smile you saw at first. The rest of your sentence is forgotten. He takes one, two, three steps back.

“You got them all?” The question saves you. Your brother pulls you back to him as you hand him the brown plastic bag. In it? His favorite snacks from the liquor store on the corner (the nearly sold-out, hard-to-come-by ones). 

“Every last one,” Your hands come to his cheeks, turning his face to each side.

You have to reach up now and it strikes you just how much he’s grown even in the past month. You both spend much of your time on the phone with one another. These monthly meetings set-up frequently enough for deliveries and some quick face-to-face time and seldom enough to avoid embarrassment (that’s what he says anyway). 

He brings the chip bag out and holds it up, “You even got these.” 

“Geraldo got them special order just for you.” 

“Tell the old man I said thanks,” He smiles like he’s seven again, spoiled and self-indulgent. “Richard” is still standing behind you and to the side, silent. You can feel his eyes flipping back and forth between the two of you. 

“Of course,” Your hands smooth over his shoulders and brush away imaginary dust. “Mom sends her love and says she’ll try and call you on her lunch in a few hours.” 

“Yeah, I know. I’ll make sure I answer.” 

“Thank you.” You exhale an affectionate sigh. 

Avoidant loner that your brother can be, there’s a reason you both want him here. He’ll be able to do the things you only dreamed of when you were his age. And one day, hopefully, you’ll all be out of this hellhole, onto better things. 

“I gotta go, but thanks for these. Even though you should be saving every penny,” He chides, holding up a finger like his words are somehow a threat. 

“Okay,” You chortle like you wouldn’t give everything up for your brother in a heartbeat. There’s another quick hug before he’s looking back at the man behind you, who is still standing there like some sort of stealth ninja. 

“Like I said man,” He nods and there’s something in his face that changes as he looks at “Richard”, “You gotta earn it.” 

It’s with those parting words that he begins to walk out. You stay stock still for a second before you leap after him, “I wanna hear all about what happened last week with Cara tomorrow on the phone!” 

Your brother, a mile away already on longs legs, shouts something indistinguishable back at you from down the hallway, his figure turning a corner.  

“Who’s Cara?” The voice brings your back to reality. 

You sweep your palms against your jeans and turn back to face the man with a three-piece suit and a watch that probably costs more than 20 years of your salary. Oh God. 

“This girl my brother asked out the other week. I bribed him with some of his favorites so he would tell me what went down.” You shrug your shoulders, not worried about spilling the tea about your brother’s romantic life. 

“Does he know that?” His arms seem to relax a little more and you think you could stare at him all day. 

“Eh,” You say, creeping back towards the open door. Your small crossbody bag is already on you and there’s no reason to sit back down. Richard follows you as you, apparently, both start to make your exit from the office. Nothing about it feels unnatural. “Sometimes you got to persuade instead of demand.” 

“Ha,” There seems to be something you are missing based on the way his mouth curves and his eyes spark, “That’s the truest thing I’ve heard in a long time.” 

“You’re welcome. That’s the only one that comes for free!” Your arms swing back and forth. “Anything else is gonna cost you.” 

The hallways usually feel like a labyrinth here, but you don’t feel lost this time. 

“What forms of payment do you accept?” You pretend to be thinking, but really you’re just glancing between the different features of his face. You’re not sure you’ve ever met someone like him. You’re not sure you ever will again.  

“The bank’s closed right now, actually,” The wariness is back. This guy walks like he’s used to treading on perfectly paved gold streets in his shoes. All you’ve ever known is cracked cement and rusted pipes that burst underground. “But I think it’ll be back up and running soon.” 

He doesn’t falter and there’s no anger or hurt in his expression at the metaphorical rejection. Instead, it looks something like silent patience. Maybe even acceptance. This guy could totally not be interested and you could just be being (too) ambitious. The door to the open courtyard, and your way home, is already before you both. 

“It was nice meeting you Richard,” You say as you begin to take steps forward. Your hands nervously hold the strap across your torso. You take a few more steps before his words turn your head back to him. 

“You can call me Dick,” He says with ease. The tone makes you feel like he’s speaking a language you don’t really understand. His blue eyes seem like they’re on fire; a contradiction, you know. There’s something about him that almost makes you catch your breath. You’ve never been been winded by just looking before. 

“Maybe I’ll see you around.” You offer, hands squeezing your bag strap. 

“I look forward to earning that handshake next time!” He calls out when you’re several feet away. 

I think you’ll earn a lot more than that, you almost say, but refrain. 

Instead, you wave back to him once before making your way out of the courtyard, caught between staring at your shoes and looking ahead to make sure you’re going to right way. You smile and daydream the entire bus ride home. Blue becomes your favorite color. 

[scuttle-buttle]

Chapter 2

WC: 1728

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: mentions of sexual themes, alcohol consumption, past relationships

🧠

You and Laszlo had easily fallen back in your work routine during the first week back. His course load was almost identical to that of the previous semester, and so he didn't mandate that you come to classes like he had during the fall. Even so, you insisted on attending like usual.

Taking your seat at the back of the lecture hall you watched as he moved around the front while he spoke. You were supposed to be sorting through the information cards the students had filled out. Not much was actually getting done, as you were highly distracted. His right hand typically found home in his trouser pocket so as not to draw attention. But his left? You licked your lips. Of course you loved both of his hands, but with his favoring the left side you developed a certain affinity for the limb. Oh what his hand was capable of, you reminisced.

Your sigh must have been louder than you anticipated, as Laszlo’s eyes snapped in your direction. “Perhaps if you are bored you should keep your noises of displeasure to yourself,” he said with a quirk of his brow. His face held a look of annoyance, but his eyes told you otherwise. He knew exactly what you were thinking about based on the sound you made and it amused him to no end. You knew he meant nothing by the harsh statement. He did so to maintain his staunch reputation in front of the class.

Biting your lip you issued a “sorry, professor.” Even from across the room you could see the brief flicker of heat in his eyes at your 'apology'. To everyone else the encounter would probably leave them shitting themselves, but you knew better. Even a small success such as this was to be celebrated in your mind.

You had been hoping that you could push Laszlo to be a bit rougher with you sometimes. He would often restrain himself when you were intimate, but you had an inkling that underneath he was just itching to let go. By no means were you ever left unsatisfied, he made damn sure of that. You wanted to kick things up a notch; you wanted to see what he was capable of.

He cleared his throat. Picking up where he left off, he began “as you can see, within psychology there is no single truth. No one theory that can fully or definitively explain who we are, why we are, or what becomes of us. That is why we must always ask of ourselves the purpose of our nature and our choices. This term will be a glimpse of seeking answers to our questions. In the meantime - you have a quiz on Monday for the parts of the brain and their functions. Do not be late or come with excuses, I do not give makeups often, if ever. Have a nice weekend.”

With that the young underclassmen all shuffled out to go spend their weekend most likely partying, rather than studying. You really couldn’t blame them, as this section of Introductory Psychology was in the late afternoon. As an undergrad you would have probably done the same on a Friday night.

Both you and Laszlo packed up your things from your respective areas of the room. Once the last student was gone he called out to you. “Sara and John want to meet up this evening, would you like to accompany them or do you have plans?”

“Will you be there too, or are you too busy with paperwork and stuff?” He had been complaining of having a list to work through this week with some new documentation requirement the university put out on the professors. You trek down the stairs to meet him by the front desk.

“I think it would be odd of me to invite you out in the event that I would not be there myself,” he quips back. His hand comes to rest on your side.

You hum in response. “I feel like I haven’t seen you all week.”

He chuckles at you, “you’ve spent every day with me.”

“You know what I mean.” Peering around to ensure no one was present, you lean up to give him a quick kiss. “What time do they want us there?”

He checks his phone for the text from John. “In half an hour.”

“Then we better get going before he hogs all the pretzels,” you crack.

The two of you made your way from the university to the old pub a few blocks down the road. Students didn’t come here often, as it was geared towards the older and less rowdy crowd. It was perfect for the four of you though. You had even gotten on with the owner, Cyrus, and his niece Joanna, who often worked the bar.

You sat in the booth next to Laszlo; Sara and John opposite you. The first 45 minutes or so were spent going over the events of the past week back. Eventually, the conversation slowed.

“I think I should get us another round. What do you say?” Sara asked the table. You slid out from your side offering to give her a hand with collecting the new beverages. Laszlo watched as you walked alongside her to the bar, laughing at something Cyrus had said to you. You always looked so beautiful when you were laughing.

“So…” John began, getting his attention. Laszlo turned to face his friend. “I heard a rumor.”

“You know I don’t put credence into such things, out with it John.” Clearly whatever he wanted to discuss he didn’t wish to say in front of your presence. Despite his words Laszlo did have some trepidation about the upcoming conversation. Could it be about you? Maybe you two weren’t being delicate enough with keeping the relationship subtle?

John looks over to the bar where you and Sara are still procuring the drinks. “Karen is in town.”

He relaxed at the turn of events. “Ah, yes. She is guest lecturing at the university while she conducts research of some kind in the city.” Laszlo is matter-of-fact in his response.

John studies him for a minute. He looks concerned. “It’s been what, four years since you last saw her? Or have you seen her yet?”

“I have not. Why do you ask?” He brings the near empty glass to his lips to take a sip of the harsh liquid.

“Well, Laszlo, I just mean that you two were serious for a long time before you moved out here. In fact I had figured you would settle down with her. You left her in Austria to come here, after all,” he explains quietly.

Laszlo cocks his head in confusion. “I don’t see how that would be a concern. The dissolution of our relationship was mutual - she stayed in Vienna; I came to New York. We did not want the strain of attempting something long distance and we both came to the same conclusion on the matter. And it has been four years, John, as you so kindly reminded me. I have moved on and I am quite content now.” His tone was nonchalant.

He is happy. You were vibrant, and thoughtful, and he couldn’t say that he had felt this lighthearted in years. His years with Karen were wonderful, but in truth they didn’t compare to what he had now with you. For once he felt hopeful for what the future with you could bring. It wasn’t as strong a consideration with Karen.

John holds up his hands as if to defend his words. “I’m glad for that, truly. She’s wonderful for you and I can see that. I just worry that Karen’s presence might cause a resurgence of emotions or whatnot with you. Sara and I would hate to see things fall apart for the two of you after everything,” he gestures towards where you stand with her. “Are you going to tell her about Karen?”

Laszlo nods in understanding. “I appreciate the concern, John. But I assure you, I view Karen strictly in professional terms now. I look forward to hearing about her studies here as they could be illuminating for my courses.” He sees movement from you and Sara as you begin your return. “I do not see myself withholding information regarding my past with Karen, but I don’t know that I find it necessary to bring it up as of yet.” John’s nod is faint, as though he disagrees but isn't willing to say so. The conversation is cut short by you setting drinks on the table.

You all stay another hour at the bar. Laszlo’s thigh rests against you, his right hand atop your own leg. Occasionally you can feel the way his thumb lightly strokes you through your jeans. He makes it hard to pay attention to what Sara is saying to the group; little bolts of lightning shoot up your leg and to your core. When your legs clench Laszlo doesn’t seem to notice.

Aside from the growing arousal within you, the soft clink of the index finger of his left hand grabs your attention. A steady tap tap tap as he hits the side of his whisky glass. The movement brings you back to your thoughts during his lecture earlier, how the thick digits with their calloused tips drive you absolutely mad when they brush against your skin. You swallow.

This time Laszlo is aware of your state. His eyes shift to you from where he sits to your left. The two of you hadn’t had time or energy to be intimate since that night he took you to Delmonicos. The lack has taken its toll as you give him that look.

Abruptly Laszlo faces the others. “I would hate to cut our evening short, but I have more paperwork to fill out by Monday for the Dean. I would rather get it done so that I may enjoy my weekend. John, Sara.” He nods his farewell as he nudges for you to move out of the booth. You hold back your giggle at his insistent need to get home.

John looks slightly confused with the suddenness of your departure. A look of understanding comes over him with a whisper from a smirking Sara. With a wave the two of you leave into the cold January night.

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams @thatoneartgalsstuff @hb8301 @fandom-princess-forevermore @foggycandywitch @creme-bruhlee @andy-rocks

[beelspillowpet]

Brothers reactions to a fem disaster bi MC who swoons over like every fem demon they see in the devildom?

Just got finished screaming over how much I LOOOOOVE THIS PROMPT. BI DISASTER YEEEEAAAAHHHH

Thank you for being the first to request something from me! 😭😭😭 I apologize in advance that these hcs aren't SUPER FOCUSED on the MC being a female themselves, but I tried my best with sneaking it in there when I could!

I've decided that along with MC, the brothers are also bisexual for the prompts too! You can be a mess together! <3 Sorry it took so long!

~

Lucifer

Oh. You seemed so interested in that girl who passed you by. You were smitten, he might say. Never mind it, he didn’t want to assume anything of it. Maybe you were just really fond of that girl's appearance.

The next girl he spotted you talking with, he was a bit concerned. You shouldn’t be off making friends with just ANY demons. They could be plotting to take your soul if you aren’t careful. Your palette seemed to be meshed, you were now talking to boyish women and feminine men. It was starting to come together for him now that you are, in fact, bisexual. A truly chaotic one, at that.

Over the next few weeks, he sees you flourish more and more with your obsession over women and men together. It’s not like you’ve forgotten about him, far from it. In fact, sometimes he listens to you rant about how beautiful this girl is at RAD, talking about her eyes or her lips. Other times he listens to you cry over how absolutely GORGEOUS this man is. He will never admit that he finds your taste in men and women to be quite similar to his. Almost exactly the same.

He listens to you sometimes talk to his brothers about how unrealistically, unreasonably cute, that girls are. You don't have nearly as much energy talking about men than you do women, but it's still there. He doesn’t really indulge you as much as he should, but he gives you enough input to invite you to keep ranting about BEAUTIFUL women and men.

Mammon

Same, dude. Same.

Mammon is a powerful bisexual, and you are the one who made him realize this(?!). He pretends he's not listening to you half the time, but he's hanging on your every word. When you two hang out, sometimes you push your D.D.D to his face to show you another model you've found on Devilgram. "His abs are SMOKIN' hot, Mammon, look!!" He has to agree. He's got a nice body. "Look at her soft face! She's SO unbelievably cute! And those curves, oof!”

He's watching you swoon and he can't believe it. You're both chaotic disasters, swooning over man and woman alike. You put much more life into your talks about women than you do men, and it worries him sometimes that he might not actually give him the time of day whenever he works up the courage. When you talk about those cute women, he does mostly still think about you. You have such beautiful eyes, and soft hair, when he's allowed to touch it. He wonders why you haven't seen it yourself.

At some point he let's it slip that he, himself, may or may not be bisexual, when you catch him scrolling through Devilgram of some of the models you've shown him in the past. The two of you spend hours on end, swooning over every male and female in sight.

Leviathan

You two are feral bisexuals. Especially fond of girls. Leviathan and you have both played those H-games. You know the ones. He catches you from time to time, listening to ASMR of girls patting your head or talking you through a rough patch in your life. He definitely knows when you're listening to lewd audio clips of women too.

He thinks for a while that you're a lesbian, and he's completely fine with that. It isn't until your attention abruptly SHIFTS when you find a SMOKIN' HOT anime boy that he realizes you are a disaster of a bisexual. Sometimes it's like a day and night shift with you. When you see girls at anime conventions you swoon uncontrollably. Gripping his arm and giving those compressed SCREECHES from the throat with shut lips. He can't help but think you're hyperbolic sometimes.

Deep down inside, he feels the exact same way. It's just too embarrassing to act like that though. But even though he feels that way, he watches you shuffling over to the cosplayers and otaku girls and asking for pictures. If you're lucky, you might even score a number from one of them! How dare you have better social skills than him? It's SOOO not fair??

He decides one of these days he'll take a page out of your book. He'll happily geek out about girls to you (especially if there's a Ruri-Chan cosplayer!?) and occasionally about the guys too. You both lean towards females anyway, and he's glad he's found someone just like him.

Satan

Oh. Girls? Guys? He's here, and he's listening.

He doesn't have any picture books, but the way the books describe some of the women? *chef's kiss* He loves it! He's watched you attempt to capture their beauty on paper (or tablet and laptop!) and smiles at your attempts. He calls them attempts because that's what you call them. "Nothing I do can truly capture the beauty that is any female that exists here." And he AGREES.

He finds your ridiculous chanting of GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS to be a riot. He joins in if it means pissing Lucifer off with the noise pollution. When you shift to guys, he's still as vocal as before. You probably aren't that great at drawing guys yet, but that's cool. He appreciates your enthusiasm. You catch him staring at you from time to time, and you wonder if he ever thinks you're as cute of a girl as the other ones you two fawn over.

Like a distorted clock, you talk about girls for at least two hours of his time, and then another hour about boys. He can't believe how much energy you put into loving women. He wonders if you're like Asmo, and just appreciate women a little bit too much. After all, the previous mention of chanting GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS is still fresh on his mind. You really are a messy bisexual, but you're his favorite messy bisexual, at least.

Asmodeus

OH HECK YEAH. YOU BOTH ARE A WRECK!

GIRLS. BOYS. GIRLS. BOYS. It's a never ending cycle with you two. It's like you're rabid animals, constantly going out to The Fall for the scoop on the next hottest guy to walk in. When you see a girl though, it's like you're straight out of a cartoon. You don't howl or whistle or anything of the sort that may be unsightly or rude but you ARE WATCHING. RESPECTFULLY.

You and Asmo are unashamed when it comes to flirting with men and women alike. You share tips that have worked in the past for each other, and having the Avatar of Lust give you pointers is a nice bonus overall. Asmo thinks for a while that you are a normal bisexual, but he's proven wrong when you find a group of beautiful women, who you hyper focus on for the next few weeks. He's honestly impressed.

It's like your attraction to men has almost disappeared, and he worries that perhaps you don't love him more than any woman you run across in the Devildom anymore. Your attention to men is still there with passing comments of "yeah he's really cute" but you're RIGHT BACK to the topic of GIRLS. he can't blame you. Women are QUEENS, just like you're an absolute QUEEN to him. He's more than happy to indulge some lewd talk about women, and you both spend hours doing exactly that most nights.

Beelzebub

Oh, that's cool. Someone else in this house likes both men and women. He's glad you're comfortable sharing so much with him. Usually when you do go for jogs in the morning, he watches you at his side while he listens to you. There's apparently this blonde woman with dark skin and she looks absolutely DIVINE. His brain focuses on imagining a pretzel with salt sprinkled over it, and he drools. He likes that thought, very much.

It's when you see said jogger does he truly realize your fixation on women is something to be feared.  You're practically floating when she jogs by, almost wanting to go after her. Beel stops you, and asks if you're okay, worried that you might trip over your own feet if you swoon any harder. He thinks its cute. You start to dress like this jogging woman, wearing her color scheme in hopes that she'll notice you. Maybe he'll try to help and play wingman for you.

He doesn't open up about it at first, but eventually he does finally speak up when you bring up a man you see at the gym with him from time to time. He blushes a bit because he knows immediately who you're talking about. You like that guy, and Beel really likes him too. When you two see him at the gym, you both swoon a bit too much. While spotting Beel one time, he passed by and Beel nearly dropped his weights on his chest. This caused a bit of attention your way and flustered, you helped Beel set the weights back up and make sure he was okay. That wasn't the first or last time an accident happened at the gym either.

At the Fangol games, it's even worse, somehow. You sit as close as possible to the field, and halftime is your FAVORITE time. All those cute cheerleaders? Cheering for their teams? You forget in all the glory that is the ABSOLUTE BEAUTY OF WOMEN that you're supposed to be rooting for Beel. You spend the rest of the game reimagining the routines that were performed, and Beel is right there admiring them too. Quietly, at least. You're a bit too enthusiastic about your love for women, and Beel thinks you're cheering louder for them than you are for him when he's playing. He doesn't mind it too much though. He'd probably be the same way, provided he let loose a little more.

Belphegor

He doesn't bother with you. It's like you talk a mile a minute, only interested in girls for the most part. Occasionally you'll talk about a hot guy, and well, he's listening but... It's sort of hard for him to fall asleep with all your rambling about women. With such detail, it's like you're trying to give him material to imagine while he sleeps.

Belphie tries his hardest not to tell you to quiet down sometimes. He's forced to come to RAD, he's stuck by your side, mostly because your taste in men and women are quite similar to his. He's been sorely lacking on the cute girls and guys here at RAD, but he can count on you to provide eye candy for him. Not that he's going to act on it. Most of the time, he's too busy trying to block out your constant rambling. He notices it's mostly about women.

He thinks you're insecure at first, trying to appeal to him, presumably a straight guy, while appearing interested in men to seem straight too. He let's it be known for your comfort, if you like girls more than guys, then it's fine. He's not one to care or judge others on their interest. An anarchist at heart, and your chaotic bisexuality freak-outs are what he lives for. If you were more quiet about it, he would find it easier to fall asleep to. He manages to do that a few times.

Let's it slip while talking about a dream he had that he's interested in guys too. Maybe a little more than you are, though. 50/50 at best. He doesn't really encourage you to talk more about the girls you absolutely DROOL over, but whenever you two are out and you spot a woman, he's always side eyeing you and telling you to wipe your mouth. He sometimes makes a show of it, teasing you by panting like a dog, or telling you to heel. It's all in fun though, and he lets up before it gets too embarrassing.

[writersrealmbts]

Take This Road

Description: Part of the summer #btswritingbingo, hosted by @bangtanwritingbingo​! For road trip.  You've taken an unusual turn in your road trip, and your new passenger is the primary cause.

Warnings: casual discussions of arson and murder

Posted: 07/31/2021

Tags: Jungkook x reader, sort of mafia au? sort of gang au?, road trip au

idk what genre this is: 1,503 words

A/N: This one was really fun

Too many snacks.

You had too many snacks for one person.

So...was it fate that brought your passenger?

Or was it the fact that he shoved someone under your tires as you were driving past?

“So...remind me again where we’re going to dump this body?” You asked.

“He’s not dead.”

“Yet.”

“Yet. If he does die...well, there’s a nice floating bog not too far from where I live that could work. Or I could use him as a decoy body in a housefire.”

“Oooh, I know this one,” You chirped, turning the volume up and singing along with the radio.

Your passenger, the one that wasn’t dying, was soon singing with you.

It did strike you that maybe you shouldn’t be so casual about the fact that you were transporting a dying person with the person who had tried to kill him using your vehicle, but honestly...you kind of were guessing that the guy you ran over may or may not have been abusive and you didn’t really feel like asking.

“Such a good song,” Your passenger sighed. “Oh, I don’t think I told you, but I’m Jungkook, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you Jungkook, y/n.”

“Nice to meet you. Sorry to change your plans.”

“No problem, really. I was kind of bored. If you want any snacks, feel free to grab any. Any but the chocolate covered pretzels. Those are mine and I will shove you under my tires.”

“Understood. So, should I explain why I tried to kill him?”

“I mean, if you like. Do I need to turn here?”

“No, it’ll be the next one. So, that guy is actually a loan shark. Except, when you can’t pay in cash, he takes people.”

“Ew.”

“Yeah. I was hoping he’d be helpful and tell me where he sent my friends, but...well….” He glanced back as the other man began to groan softly. “Oh. He’s waking up.”

“You tied him up, right?”

“Yeah. I owe you a roll of duct-tape and some zip-ties.”

“Don’t worry about the zip-ties. I’m not really even sure why I had them. Anyway, he took your friends?”

“Yeah. So I’ve been trying to track them down ever since. And then he told me tonight that one of them had died before he even sold them and I guess I saw red.”

“Well, I’d be concerned if you thought my car was purple or green.”

“True,” He tried a few different snacks before settling in with one. “Anyway, if he died, no big. If he lives and tells me what happened to them, awesome. I’ve got enough leads to carry on without him if I have to. What about you? You’re taking all of this surprisingly well.”

“He kind of struck me as an abusive bastard, to be honest. And that’s while looking at him half-dead on the road. But nah, I’m just sort of wandering around. I recently quit my job, and I’ve been on a road trip in the interim before my next job starts.”

“What’s your new job?”

“I’m working for Taiji International. Personal secretary to one of the higher-ups.”

“Isn’t that the one with suspected Mafia affiliations?”

“Possibly. I could probably poke around and see if they have any idea about your friends for you.”

“That’d be cool.” He sighed. “It looks like he might live.”

“Have you ever been to Keirishiro?”

“No. My parents always told me it was full of Mafias and gangs.”

“Exactly. He’s probably affiliated with some group. Which means they’re probably after you.”

“Probably….”

“So, we put him in your place and burn it down. They’ll find out it’s him, no problem, and then there’s just the question of where you went. No one would expect someone so wholly unconnected to you to be hiding you, or helping you.”

“But the fire….”

“Is the easy part. Frito’s bag near some outlet or appliance. Leaves no trace. Set these aside.” You pulled the bag up and tossed it at him.

“What about your road-trip?”

“Oh, I thought we could go to Keirishiro after burning your place down. That’s where my job is. You can stay with me. We’ll work on disguises for you, and I’ll find out if my work is associated with a Mafia or not. Then we can go from there. Hopefully they’re not associated with this piece of work.”

“You grew up in the Mafia, didn’t you?”

“Nah. I just spent way too much time working customer service.”

“Oh, I love this song,” He turned the radio up again, jamming to the song on the radio.

You thought the trip ahead of you would be quite pleasant with Jungkook for company.

“We’re going to pretend we’re dating, right?”

You hummed. “Actually, we might need to pretend we’re married. I sort of lied and said I was getting ready to be married which was why I wanted so much time before I started this job.” You rolled your eyes. “I was just going to say, ‘oh, it fell through and I was so heartbroken’ but a fake marriage would suffice.”

“Okay. Sounds good to me. With any luck, even if people know about me they may not know what I look like, so I might be able to pass as someone else. Then I’ll be sure to sell the part. And when the time comes, we split amicably.”

“Works for me. Go fifty-fifty on chores?”

“Mmmm, sixty-forty, I might not be able to swing as much for rent as you.”

“Ah. Between jobs?”

“Kind of. Something about endangering coworkers.”

“Oof. Yeah. We’ll see if we can find someone to forge an identity for you, that way you can get a job if it’s safe to show your face.”

“I might know a place. Got any CD’s?”

“CD player is broken and the last CD put in was a kids CD. Don’t touch the CD player. On the one hand, I know twenty children's songs. On the other hand, I would like to throttle whoever broke the CD player because I know twenty children’s songs.”

“Got any drinks?”

“In the cooler, behind your seat.”

“Ah!” He unbuckled and reached around, getting drinks for both of you. “I’m thinking: maybe instead of burning my place we just clean it out and dump him in the bog, whether dead or alive. That way we don’t draw unnecessary attention to me.”

“Fair. Okay. Then where am I going?”

“Stay on this road for another...five miles?”

“Map in the glove-box.”

He pulled it out, unfolding it and taking a few moments to gather his bearings. “Yeah, about five miles, I think. It’ll be the third road on the left.”

“Okay. Feel free to mess with the temp controls, I tend to keep things cooler than they need to be.”

“I’m good. Might channel surf, though,” He said, waiting until you had nodded to start trying other stations on the radio.

“You have a license?”

“Definitely.”

“Great. We can take turns driving, then.”

“Works for me.”

“Uuaaaghhhh...wh--what?”

You glanced in the rear-view mirror. “Oh dear.”

Jungkook quickly got up to deal with the passenger. “Didn’t expect him to wake up.”

You sighed. “Poor soul, he just didn’t know what hit him.”

“Better than he deserves,” Jungkook muttered, holding up a notebook. “I forgot to mention, I got his ledger from him. There are lots of names in here.”

“Ugh. A bog is almost too good for him.”

“Almost,” Jungkook agreed, sliding back into his seat. “You understand the danger we’re getting into, right?”

“Yeah. I do.” You gestured to your backpack. “Front pocket, there’s a bag with some jewelry in it. There should be two rings. They were my parents. But they’ll do.”

He followed your instructions, pulling them out. He slipped your father’s onto his ring finger. “Fits well. Here you are, my wife.”

“Why, thank you, husband,” You said, taking your mother’s ring and slipping it onto your ring finger.

“So...what happened to them?”

“Hmm? Oh, no, they’re fine, but my father can’t wear rings because they make his fingers swell and my mom broke her ring finger so her ring didn’t fit anymore. They tattooed rings on their fingers instead.”

“Ah. So...your family is alive...and you’re still okay with this?”

You considered what to tell him. “My parents are private investigators.”

“So, this is….”

“Definitely not something they would want me doing. They’ve never been a fan of me sticking my nose into dangerous situations. But...you know. When both of your parents are private investigators….”

“It’s in your blood. Cool. I’ll follow your lead then.” He smiled, kind of peeking down at the ring. “I’ll be a supportive husband.”

“And I will be a loving wife,” You answered, sharing a smile with him. “This could be a lot of fun.”

“It really could.” Jungkook grinned and leaned back in his seat, staring at the road ahead. “Next road.”

“Right.”

You looked forward to where this journey led you.

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Big Damn Heroes

A Supernatural / Buffy the Vampire Slayer crossover! 

Characters: Sam, Dean, Cas, Charlie, Buffy, Willow, Spike, Xander, Giles, Anya, Faith

Word Count: ~4930

Warnings: Flirting, play-fighting... it’s sexy but not smutty. 75% banter, 20% geeky references. (No, seriously, SO MANY. If anyone can spot all the easter eggs/quotes from Supernatural, the Whedonverse, and beyond, I’ll give you a cookie.) 

A/N: For @impala-dreamer​ and @deanwanddamons​, and the I Do Understand That Reference Challenge! I’ve been wanting to write a SPN/BtVS crossover since I first started watching Supernatural; I’ve been imagining some of these character interactions for a while. Thanks for giving me an excuse to finally do it! 

Major thanks to @stunudo​ and @thoughtslikeaminefield​ for the reading and cheerleading. This was the most excited I’ve been about writing in a hot minute and I was so happy that you guys were excited to read it. 

This bears very little resemblance to either show’s canon/timeline. No Dawn, no Tara. Just go with it. 

“Okay, stand super still for me?” Charlie asks apprehensively. She twiddles a few knobs on the gadget she’d built, and a little fan of laser beams shoots out one end. She points it at Dean, who grimaces and shields his junk protectively as the lights sweep up and down his body. 

Sam rubs at the tension headache that’s developing between his eyes. “You sure about this?” 

“No?” Charlie says, voice squeaking slightly, and Sam’s headache throbs again. “But… I think so. It should work. I don’t think you understand how ridiculously complicated this whole thing is.” 

“You are bringing their alternate selves here from an entirely different universe,” Cas says skeptically, arms crossed as he looks critically at the scene. “There are a lot of variables at work.” 

Charlie points the device at Sam and scans him as she nods firmly. “Yes. Thank you. What Cas said. What’s the worst that can happen, right?” 

Sam raises his eyebrows and sees Dean and Cas making near-identical expressions of disbelief. 

“Right. Probably not a good thing to ask around here, huh? You guys are like the living embodiment of Murphy’s Law. I don’t think I’m gonna, like, blow anything up though, so that’s something!” Charlie cuts off her own nervous babbling and takes a deep breath. “Well, here goes nothing.” 

Sam's ears start to ring, and he feels a tug somewhere in his chest. The bunker fuzzes and fades around them. 

The last thing Sam hears is Cas saying flatly, “Well that can’t be good.” 

***

Dean’s drawing his gun before the room even comes into focus, fighting a dizzying surge of nausea. He looks around wildly, turning to scan his surroundings. There’s a redhead in an eye-poppingly colorful sweater sitting on the couch, looking at him open-mouthed; a cute, tiny blonde at her side; a cozy, utterly suburban living room; and most importantly, a total lack of Sam, as far as he can see, and that’s a problem. 

“Whoa, hey, take it easy,” the blonde says sharply. “Drop the gun.” She’s standing, coming toward him with her hands raised, and she’s clearly not a threat, but Dean’s not letting his guard down yet. He eases his finger off the safety but keeps it pointed at her. 

“Where’s my brother?” Dean snaps. 

“You just Apparated into the middle of my house, buddy, how ‘bout I ask the questions?” she says, unfazed. Which. Fair. Dean lowers the gun slightly. 

The second he starts to relax, the blonde is whipping around like a goddamn ninja and kicking the gun out of his hand. She settles back into a fighting stance, looking way more serious than anyone wearing sparkly lip gloss has any right to look. Dean’s so stunned he doesn’t even try to fight back; he stares for a second, torn between the urge to pull his other gun out of the back of his pants, just to make a point, and the urge to propose on the spot, because wow. 

“Um, hi, answers now?” the redhead says, still sitting on the couch, staring incredulously. 

Dean takes a deep breath. “I’m Dean Winchester. I’m pretty sure this was a fuckup of gigantic proportions. Where am I? Who are you? How did you…” 

“Sunnydale, Buffy, and mystical forces-of-evil-fighting Slayer powers,” she rattles off, with a little smile at the look of astonishment on his face. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” 

“Buffy?” Dean says, smirking, and she raises an eyebrow. 

“That’s really not the part most people fixate on,” she says bemusedly. There’s a phone ringing somewhere in the next room, and Buffy shouts without taking her eyes off Dean: “Xander? Would you get that?” 

“I’m not most people.” 

***

“Yes, quite. We’ll be right over,” Giles says, and he hangs up before turning back to Sam with a long-suffering expression. “Your brother is safe and sound. I’ll take you to him and we can try to sort this mess out.” 

Sam lets out a long sigh of relief, following Giles to the door. He looks down at his phone again as Giles locks up, but it still displays “no signal.” Sam frowns. 

“Where are we?” he asks. 

“Sunnydale, California.” Giles leads the way to a tiny European car. Sam has to fold up like a pretzel to get in the passenger seat. 

He watches out the window as Giles drives, frowning to himself as he tries to figure out why they’re here of all places. He’d been so busy with the whole Apparition thing that he didn’t question Giles’s initial reaction to a stranger materializing in the middle of his living room, but his expression had definitely been more resigned and exasperated than astonished, like maybe this sort of thing happened to him a little too often. 

“Is there such a thing as magic in this world?” Sam says, with a sneaking suspicion that he already knows the answer. “Or… ghosts? Demons?” 

Giles blinks a few times. “Magic, yes. Demons, quite. Ghosts… not that I’m aware of, but stranger things have happened on a Hellmouth, I’m sure.” 

“A what?” 

“Hellmouth. Sunnydale sits on top of a literal gate to hell, and as such, there is a convergence of mystical energy here. It tends to draw monsters and… well, general disaster.” Giles sounds like he’s repeated this little speech a few times before. 

“Averted any apocalypses lately?” Sam asks wryly, and that does get him a very polite, British expression of surprise. 

“Well, yes. A few, as a matter of fact. Buffy does stay busy.” 

“Buffy?” 

“Yes, the friend I called when you arrived. The Slayer. Do they have one of those in whatever world you’re from?” 

“In my world, Slayer is a band,” Sam says with a shrug. “So… you’ve never heard of me? Or my brother? Dean Winchester?” 

Giles gives him a skeptical sideways look. “Should I have?” 

“I think I have a theory.” 

“It’s not bunnies.” 

“What?” 

“Never mind. Go on.” 

***

“This is where you live?” Dean asks, looking around at the big windows and unlocked door. “Are there protective spells or anything, at least?” 

“No. And thus, the neverending construction,” Xander says mournfully, nodding toward an unfinished window frame. 

Dean’s still processing how normal it is. They’re all sitting around in the incredibly ordinary living room on comfortably mismatched couches, and the coffee table in front of him has a copy of Cosmo on it, for fuck’s sake. He’s never met a hunter of any kind who’d be reading about “Why Wet Kisses Make Men Horny.” 

He looks up hopefully when he hears the door, but it’s not Sam; there’s a bleach-blonde guy coming in, shaking off the ratty blanket he’d been wearing like a cape. 

“Oh, great, you’re back,” Willow grumbles. 

Buffy gives him a look that’s borderline murderous, which would be about as threatening as a newborn kitten if Dean didn’t know what she’s capable of. “Why, exactly, are you back?” 

“Bored. Not much to do in a crypt.” The guy shrugs, looking Dean up and down with an appraising gleam in his eye. “Who’s the pretty boy?” 

Dean’s still processing “crypt.” Before he can decide how he feels about the flirtatious tone, Buffy answers for him: “Spike, this is Dean. Dean, this is Spike. Spike, you can fuck right off now. Dean, you want a glass of water or something? Sorry, all the alternate universe talk made me forget my manners.” 

“Got anything stronger?” 

“If by stronger you mean orange juice?” Buffy offers apologetically, but Spike pulls a flask out of the inside of his long coat and passes it to Dean with a smug half-smile. Then he makes himself at home in one of the armchairs, raising an eyebrow at Buffy as if to make it extra clear that he has no plans to “fuck right off” any time soon. 

“Cheers,” Dean says gratefully. 

Spike winks at him, obvious and shameless, and drawls, “You just let me know if you need anything else.” 

Buffy’s got her arms crossed, glaring daggers at Spike, and Dean can tell there’s something going on there, but he can’t really resist flashing his most charming grin in Spike’s direction.  

The front door opens again, and Dean breathes a long sigh of relief when he sees Sam. 

***

“What makes you think there’s a version of you in this universe, anyway?” Willow asks, and everybody pauses to think about that one for a second. “I mean, if there are all these different worlds, why are you guys the heroes in every single one?” 

“Bit bloody full of yourselves,” Spike says. There’s no reason for that sentence to sound as suggestive as it does, but that seems to be his default tone. Sam tries not to notice the way Spike’s staring at his brother. Not like Dean is aware of it; he’s too busy staring at Buffy. 

“There’s a world with nothing but shrimp,” Xander chips in unhelpfully. Sam shakes his head like that might clear his ears. 

“Chuck said -” Dean starts, and Sam cuts him off with a gesture before anyone can ask who “Chuck” is. That seems like a surefire way to derail this barely-coherent conversation, and Sam wants to figure out how to get the hell home. 

“It’s not a bad point,” he says. “So if Charlie programmed the thing -” Willow opens her mouth like she really wants to interrupt, but Sam plows on, “- to bring us from a world that didn’t have an us, maybe that’s what made it glitch. It couldn’t bring anyone to us, so it brought us here instead.” 

“But why would it drop you with us?” Buffy asks. 

“You guys seem to be the ones who deal with the apocalypses around here,” Dean says, shrugging. 

“We are the local experts at the saving people and the hunting things,” Buffy agrees. 

Spike smirks. “Big damn heroes, is what we are.” 

Buffy shoots him a withering glare. “You are not included in this.” 

“But why split us up?” Sam muses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His headache has not improved in the slightest. When he looks up, Dean’s eyes are darting between Sam and Giles, who has his glasses off and is pinching his own nose in the exact same spot. 

“Wow, Sammy,” Dean says, an infuriating grin spreading over his face. 

“What?”  

Dean turns to Buffy. “So this whole Slayer thing. Kind of a birthright? Destiny?” 

She shrugs. “I guess so. There was this whole group of old British guys with sticks up their asses, but... ” 

Sam rolls his eyes, starting to see where Dean’s heading with this, and asks Buffy, “Ever died, by any chance?” 

“Twice, actually,” she replies, without batting an eye. She looks back and forth between them. “Wait, have either of you -” 

“Trust me, you don’t wanna know,” Dean says ruefully. “Sacrificed yourself to save someone, I’m guessing?” 

“That’s me, self-sacrificey girl,” Buffy says, matter-of-fact and borderline chipper. “Kind of my specialty. That and the quipping.” 

“Let me guess, you handle the research,” Sam says to Giles. 

“Well, yes, I suppose. Although I’m not exactly helpless in a fight. I do know a bit of magic as well.”  

Sam buries his face in his hands for a second. 

“So when the program couldn’t find a match for either of us, it sent us to… someone as much like us as it could find,” Dean says. 

Willow jumps in quickly. “What sort of computer -” 

“What was that about shrimp?” Dean asks at the same time. Everybody starts talking at once, and Sam sighs heavily. He almost rubs his forehead again, but he stops himself when he notices Giles doing the same thing.

***

Dean’s trying to explain the whole Chuck situation when he sees the distortion in the middle of the room, and he trails off in the middle of the sentence, watching anxiously as Charlie blurs in and out a few times before solidifying in front of them. 

“Okay, weird,” she blurts out, looking around wide-eyed and overwhelmed. 

“Holy fuck am I glad to see you,” Dean says fervently. 

“Right back atcha,” Charlie says. “Somebody want to tell me what the fuck is going on?” 

“Ooh, are you the one who beamed them up?” Willow asks excitedly. “Actually… you look weirdly familiar, have we met before?” 

Charlie blinks at her a few times, a smile spreading across her face, and shakes her head. “I don’t think so. Pretty sure I’d remember you.” 

“This is Charlie, she’s our resident computer genius,” Dean says, and they make the rounds of introductions yet again. 

Charlie gives everyone an awkward little wave. “Charlie. Um. I like LARPing, pretty women, and long walks on the beach.” 

Dean doesn’t miss the way Willow perks up at that, and he bites the inside of his cheek to hold back his laughter. 

“Hey, where’s Cas?” Charlie asks, finally tearing her eyes away from Willow long enough to look around the room, as if Cas might’ve hid behind the bookshelf when he arrived. 

Dean’s stomach sinks. “He came with you?”

“Yeah, we -” Charlie starts, but she’s interrupted by the door opening, and much to Dean’s relief, Cas is walking through it next to a frazzled-looking girl. 

“I’m hoping one of you can explain why this man materialized in my car?” the girl asks irritably. “As if parallel parking wasn’t hard enough without surprises.” 

“Hi to you too, Anya,” Buffy chirps. “Glad everybody could join us for what was supposed to be my relaxing day of solitude.” 

“I’m not a man, exactly,” Cas interjects. 

Anya tilts her head to the side inquisitively, glancing very blatantly down at Cas’s crotch for a second, and Dean snorts. 

“Would it be rude if I asked -” Anya starts. 

Giles answers before she can finish: “Yes, it undoubtedly would be.” 

“I’m an angel,” Cas says nonchalantly. 

“Judging by everyone’s faces, Anya’s not an angel, then?” Sam asks, looking between the two of them. 

“Only that one time, for Xander’s birthday,” Anya volunteers, and Xander splutters an incoherent protest. “But that was a sexy angel, not a real angel. I don’t think we have those here.”  

“She used to be a revenge demon,” Buffy explains. 

“Used to be?” Cas asks. 

“Oh, I’m human now,” Anya reassures him.

Spike adds, “Not that you’d know it, talking to her.” 

“Considering how primitive and strange humans are considered to be by most of the known universe, I wouldn’t say that’s a bad thing,” Cas says mildly. “Some of your customs are utterly incomprehensible to an outsider.” 

“That’s what I keep saying!” Anya exclaims. “I mean, how am I supposed to know exactly which reproductive habits are acceptable for public discussion?” 

“They do have some very arbitrary rules about appropriate behavior,” Cas says. Dean notices Sam and Giles rubbing their foreheads in tandem again. 

***

By the time they finish asking all their questions and comparing apocalypses, Sam’s actually kind of having fun, but he knows it’s time to get back to work. 

“You ready to get out of here?” he asks Dean, during the next lull in the conversation. Dean looks more than a little put out as he sneaks a glance at Buffy, but he shrugs. 

“Probably should. Charlie? Hey, Earth to Charlie.” 

Charlie looks pretty dazed as she turns to face them. “Hmm?” 

“We should probably get home,” Sam says apologetically. 

Charlie’s face falls. “Really?” 

Dean gives her a sympathetic look. “Worlds to save, and stuff. Still need to find a way to warn all those other Sams and Deans. Sorry, kiddo.” 

“Maybe you can come back sometime, if you… y’know, survive the apocalypse?” Willow says, with a hopeful smile. Charlie grins at her. 

“We also have places to be,” Anya says cheerfully. “Very important things to do.” 

“Subtle,” Xander mutters. They wave their goodbyes and head for the door, followed by a somewhat sulky-looking Spike. Then again, that might just be Spike’s face; Sam can’t really tell. 

Cas, Charlie, Sam, and Dean huddle in the middle of the living room, and Charlie says resignedly, “Strap yourselves in, I’m gonna make the jump to lightspeed.” 

“You don’t have to scan us again, do you?” Dean asks, eyeing the gadget with some mistrust. 

“Nope. We’re all saved in the system. Ready?” 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Dean says, with one last half-smile in Buffy’s direction. Charlie hits the button. 

Nothing happens. Charlie frowns and hits it again. 

“Charlie?” Sam says hesitantly. 

“No, obviously that’s not supposed to be happening,” she retorts. She fiddles with a couple knobs. “I think I know what it is, though. There are all sorts of parameters for, like, which Earth you’re coming from and which Earth you’re going to, and I think the weird glitchy thingy might’ve scrambled the algorithm.” 

Dean leans in to look. “Did you try hitting it?” 

“It’s quantum physics, Dean, you can’t just keymash until it works,” Charlie says, rolling her eyes and holding it away from him. “Unless you want to be stuck in shrimp-world or something.” 

“How long do you think it’ll take to fix it?” Sam asks. 

Charlie shrugs. “Could be a couple hours, could be a day or two.” 

“I could help you,” Willow offers. Charlie looks like Christmas came early. 

“You guys are welcome to stay, it’s no biggie,” Buffy offers. “Not like you’re the strangest thing that’s ended up in my living room.” 

“I’m flattered,” Dean says with a grin. 

Sam sighs, but he can think of worse worlds to be in for a day or two. At least they’re not surrounded by shrimp. 

***

“So this is what you do every night?” Dean asks, as Buffy hops the fence with zero visible effort. He might have actual hearts in his eyes. 

“Pretty much,” she says cheerfully. Dean follows her. He does okay, even if he doesn’t stick the landing like a Russian gymnast. 

Sam had stayed home, after some silent pleading in eyebrow-speak, so it’s just the two of them, and it’s nice, for a graveyard. There’s something about the idea of “patrolling” that Dean likes. He imagines coming here night after night, recognizing the mausoleums, getting familiar with all the paths. It sounds stable.

“Do you like it?” Dean asks. “The whole Slayer thing.” 

Buffy wrinkles her nose adorably at him. “I’m not sure like is the word I’d choose. What else would I do, though? Not like I could just walk away from it. I tried, once. The weird follows me wherever I go.” 

“Sorry, if you don’t want me to follow you any more I can just…” 

She laughs at that. Dean feels butterflies in his stomach, like he’s just a middle schooler with a crush. It’s been a minute since he put actual effort into flirting with somebody, beyond the easy one-liners. Dean fiddles with the stake she gave him, twirling it in his fingers, trying to keep an eye on his surroundings instead of just staring at Buffy. 

“Sometimes I wonder,” she says softly. “Y’know? Like, why me?” 

“You’re basically a superhero,” Dean says. She can probably tell how hard he’s geeking out about it. “That’s what heroes do.” 

“It’s not just that, though! Like… I was bored out of my mind trying to be normal.” 

Dean laughs. “Normal was a disaster.” 

“So even if the weird wasn’t following me, I’d go find the monsters myself. Who does that?” 

“Crazy people,” Dean agrees. “I can’t imagine doing anything else, though. Never gonna have a normal job, never gonna have a normal relationship, and yet.” 

“So you’re not - there’s no relationship?” she asks, exaggeratedly casual.  

“Nah.” Dean tries to hide his grin, and then he asks cautiously, “What’s up with you and Spike?” 

She stops dead, mouth open, staring at him. “Wait. Oh god. Please don’t tell me Faith is already running her mouth, I told her -” 

“No, it’s cool, I just… guessed, earlier,” Dean says sheepishly. “Don’t worry, I don’t think anybody else noticed.” 

Buffy makes a face and rolls her eyes, and they start walking again. “It’s complicated, the… thing with Spike. It’s definitely not a relationship though.” She stresses that last bit, and Dean really shouldn’t feel relieved, at that, but he does. 

“Isn’t it always complicated?” 

Buffy sighs. “There’s the whole undead creature of the night thing, for starters, which. Oddly enough, seems to be a type for me?” 

“Yeah?” 

Something must show on his face, because Buffy frowns. “Oh, Jesus, don’t tell me you’re some sort of demon too.” 

“Would that help my chances?” Dean asks wryly. “Cause I kinda used to be.” 

She stares for a second. “You’re joking, right?” 

“Really not.” 

There’s a moment where she’s clearly deciding whether she wants to go there, but then a familiar voice rings out behind them and interrupts: “Thought you were heading home, pretty boy.” 

Dean turns, grinning in spite of himself. “Change of plans.”  

“Lucky us,” Spike drawls. “Mind if I join you for a walk, pet?” 

“No,” Dean answers, just as Buffy lets out a resigned, “Kinda.”  

Spike catches up to them and slings an arm around Dean’s waist, pulling him against his side. Buffy lets out a huff, but she’s laughing too. 

“Are you really trying to make me jealous?” she asks Spike.  

“Is it working?” 

Dean disentangles himself and looks back and forth between the two of them. “Yeah, this is obviously healthy.” 

Buffy laughs, but Spike just retorts, “Like you would know a healthy attachment pattern if it bit you in the ass.” 

Dean considers protesting, but he doesn’t really have a leg to stand on there. 

“Guess it’s in the job description. Are we gonna go fight some monsters, or what?” 

“Yeah, let’s go find the monsters,” Buffy says, grinning at Dean. “That’s what heroes do, right?”  

***

Sam zones out of the discussion around the time Cas and Giles start talking comparative theology through the millennia. He slouches back on the couch and watches them fondly as Cas answers question after question. His eyelids feel heavy and he’s comfortable, and even though he knows he should take the opportunity to learn more about this totally new Earth, all he really wants to do is sit, and breathe, and rest. 

Cas and Giles end up heading back to Giles’s house for tea and… something about an old book of etchings? Sam can’t really follow Giles’s breathless, excited rambling. He waves them off, thinking that he might actually go to sleep early, for once. 

Sam goes to the kitchen, chugs a glass of water and then fills another, and he just stands there for a moment, one hip leaning against the counter as he looks around. It’s such a normal house. Even on their most domestic days, they’re still in a bunker. Must be nice to have a little bit of normalcy, no matter how crazy life gets. There’s faint music and the occasional giggle from upstairs, but otherwise, the house is quiet. 

Of course, just as he has that thought, the front door slams open and someone shouts, “Yo, B! Ready to go?” 

“She went out already,” Sam says, bemused. 

He gets an impression of red lips, dark hair, and leather as the girl closes the door behind herself, moving whirlwind-quick. She plants her feet (loudly, in big stompy combat boots) and crosses her arms, looking at Sam suspiciously. Neither of them move for a second.  

“I’m Faith,” she announces eventually. “Who the fuck are you, why the fuck are you in B’s kitchen, and where the fuck is she?” 

“Sam, and… it’s a long story. She’s out patrolling with my brother, they left about an hour ago.” 

Faith seems to make some sort of decision about him, and suspicion turns to mischief as she gives him a broad grin. “If your brother looks anything like you, can’t blame the girl for ditchin’ me.” 

Sam’s mouth twitches as he tries to hold back a smile, and he takes a sip of water to cover it. 

“Aww, you shy?” Faith teases. Her voice is low and raspy, kind of absurdly sexy, and she clearly knows it. “Must be one of those nice guys I’ve heard so much about.” 

Sam doesn’t answer. He watches Faith stalk toward him. 

She’s a fucking force of nature, Sam can already tell, all aggression and attitude as she comes at him with a challenge in her eyes. He doesn’t move when she gets up in his space, looking Sam up and down like she’s inspecting him. He has a feeling she’s used to people backing away before they let her get this close. 

“Sam, huh? What brings you to Sunnydale?” 

“Just passing through,” Sam says calmly. “What about you?” 

“How do you know I’m not from around here?” she asks, looking up at him coyly. 

Sam doesn’t dignify that with a response, just smirks and waits. She takes a step back and leans against the counter, mirroring his pose. Her eyes are sparkling. 

“Fair enough. I’m a Slayer, figured I’d stick around in Sunnydale and help B for a while. Always seems to be somethin’ around here that needs its ass kicked.” 

Sam cocks his head to the side, considering her. “So you fight vampires?” 

“And whatever else is askin’ for a fight,” she retorts. “Why, is your brother a vampire?” 

“What?” 

“Buffy’s got a type. A demonic kinda type, if you know what I’m sayin’. Don’t worry, I won’t stake him.” 

Sam laughs. Figures. “I wasn’t worried. Just curious if the superpowers are all they’re cracked up to be.” 

“You better believe it,” Faith says proudly. “Strength, speed… stamina.” She says the last with a sly, unsubtle smirk, watching Sam to gauge his reaction. 

“Show me,” he challenges. He doesn’t specify which one he means, and Faith raises one eyebrow. 

“Right here? I figured you’d be the candlelight and Al Green type.” 

Sam smiles. She’s not the first person to make that assumption. 

The first punch is light, and he lets her see it coming; she dodges it easily, without so much as blinking. Sam’s left hand snakes out, lightning-fast this time, and she sidesteps neatly, grabbing his wrist instead and holding his arm in place. She’s stronger than he expected, and she’s grinning like this is the most fun she’s had all week. 

“Sure about this? I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” she says, sugary-sweet. 

The next punch is in earnest. She blocks it, throws one of her own, and then it’s a blur for a moment, a flurry of blows one after another, none of them landing. Neither of them are moving their feet much, trapped in the narrow space between the counter and the kitchen table; they’re just testing each other. 

“Not bad,” Sam admits. 

“Right back atcha.” 

She takes a couple steps backward, out into the open space, and Sam follows, watching closely. This time she lets loose with a flashy spin-jump-kick thing like something out of a cheesy action movie, and Sam’s laughing as he ducks. 

“Points for style, but not for substance,” he teases. 

She comes back at him twice as hard and almost gets him this time, but then he snatches her wrists and slams her back against the wall with a thunk that’s a whole lot louder than he expected. They both wince and freeze. 

“Everything okay?” Willow yells from upstairs.

Charlie’s pissy voice adds, “Please don’t tell me that was a monster.” 

“Just tripped,” Sam shouts back. He looks down at Faith, taking a half-step closer so that there’s maybe an inch of space between their bodies. He’s still got her wrists pinned over her head. She’s definitely not trying to get away. He has a feeling she could, easily, if she wanted to. 

“Not so nice after all, then,” she purrs, looking up at him through her lashes. 

Sam shakes his head slightly. “Not so much. You giving up, then?” 

“Not a fuckin’ chance. Just thinkin’ maybe we should have the rematch back at my place. You know, in case you ‘trip’ again.” 

“Sounds like a good idea.” 

***

Probably good they only stayed for a day, Dean thinks, looking around the room. Nobody, from either world, looks particularly happy about the departure, but they’ve all said goodbye often enough that they don’t draw it out. Charlie gives Willow one last little wave, and then she hits the button. Everything goes fuzzy. 

It’s disorienting, for a moment, but the bunker comes into focus around them. After the dizziness has passed, Dean gives Charlie a wordless hug. 

“I’m gonna go read a book with pictures in it,” she says glumly, and shuffles away. “And eat ice cream.” 

“Research time, I guess,” Sam says. “Back to work.” 

Cas heads to the kitchen to make some coffee as Sam starts flipping through his notes. Dean settles down at the table and looks at the nearest book without really seeing it. He feels fucking off, almost sad, as if he could’ve possibly gotten attached to that other world in less than twenty-four hours. 

“That was… kinda a nice universe, right?” he says. “I dunno. There was something about it.” 

Sam gives him a knowing look. “Yeah.” 

“Ever wish we could just… stay somewhere else?” Dean says, and he can’t keep the bitter note out of his voice. “I mean, why do we keep coming back to this world? What’s so great about it?” 

“It’s ours,” Sam says, with a shrug. “I mean, the other one wasn’t our responsibility, you know? Of course it was nice, not having to worry, but… this one’s ours. Gotta take care of it.” 

Dean twirls a pencil between his fingers and wishes it was a stake. He smiles, slightly, as he remembers. 

That’s what heroes do. 

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[sarcasmisakindofmagic]

Inciting flashback

Pairing: Poe Dameron x reader 

Word count: 2,300

Warnings: fluff, making out, alcohol

Tags: @huliabitch who very kindly provided a prompt for me. I hope it lives up to your expectations! (I may or may not have started on one of the others) ❤️

"What did you do to my bird, Dameron?" You threw your hands in the air at the near wreck of a ship. Poe had clearly been attempting to fix it before you got down to the hangar, or at least stop the smoke billowing from the rear end. Beebee-ate whistled a lot of information at you, detailing the gory details of the fight. You ignored the clench of worry, he was on the ground and offended enough to be fluffing up like a tooka cat in a rainstorm.

"Your bird?" He protested, blocking your path to the ship as though you couldn't see how bad it was. One of hangar drones beeped disapprovingly as it put out the fire.

"Look at her! Your shield generators are leaking!" You ducked around him, spotting more and more issues. If it wasn't so much work you'd almost be impressed. It took effort to wreck X-wings like this, especially when he hadn't been flying in atmo. You narrowed your eyes at the seeping puddle of suspicious liquids as it crept closer to Poe's boots.

"Look-" He tried again as you whirled to look at him, flinging an arm behind you at the mess.

"They're not supposed to leak, Dameron!" You bulldozed through his attempt to defend himself. "There's no fluid in them! And the flashback suppressor? That's the cause of the smoke. It's inciting flashback!"

Poe ran a hand through his hair, gaze flicking from Black-one to your face guiltily. He opened his mouth to speak

"Ahh. Ah." You held up a hand to stall the no doubt heroic explanation of how he'd wrecked your baby. You did not need more fuel for your anxious day dreaming and if you let him talk he'd probably talk you down; let him be the one to sweat a little.

"Out now. Beebee can stay and help. You go and clean up. And stay away from this bird, she has trauma." You ordered briskly pivoting on your heel, pointedly not watching him walk away.

Beebee whistled apologetically before leading you over to the ship, fire suppressant foam drifting past you on the breeze. It was going to be a long day.

Banging. That was definitely a banging noise. It wasn't the siren to alert the base to approaching TIEs and your alarm was more of a beep. The noise got louder, you groaned hoping the noise would scare it away. You burrowed further under the blankets, maybe if it couldn't see you it couldn't wake you up?

The banging subsided, leaving you to blissful silence.

A heavy weight landed on the bed instead, making you roll into the dip.

"Twist, wake up!"

You groaned again, pressing your face into the mattress hard enough to push your nose into a weird shape, making it whistle with every exhale.

"Twiiiiiiiiiist, come on!"

The demon bothering you had Jess's voice; maybe that was a sign about your friendship.

"Go 'way." You muttered blackly, firmly clutching the blankets in case the demon Jess got ideas about stealing your covers.

“Twist, it's the party. You agreed to come to it. You even sounded excited." Jess coaxed, rubbing your shoulder.

"Poe broke the thing. It's fixed. I sleep." You protested, cracking open one eye to glare at her through the blankets.

Jess lay down on top of you, ignoring the halfhearted poking you resorted to, resenting your sudden demotion to mattress.

"You fixed the ship yesterday. Time to face the light and party like a pilot, baby."

She pulled the blankets off your face, grabbing the chrono to prove time had passed since you'd passed out after fixing black one.

"Kriff."

"Come on. Poe's been driving everyone crazy asking about you. I promised to bring you to the party to shut him up." Jess said cheerfully, yanking the covers off and forcing you into an upright position.

You gave in and opened your eyes, yawning obnoxiously to ensure Jess knew you were tired.

"So you don't really want me there,"you muttered mutinously, "just want to shut Dameron up." You pulled on a dress, too lazy to figure out which leg went where in trousers and put a top on.

"Yep!" Jess agreed. "And you wriggled your way out of the last party and were smug about your hangover free morning. Revenge is a dish best served to the sleep deprived."

She tamed your hair easily, smacking a kiss to your cheek when she'd finished. You smiled in spite of yourself.

"Hate you too, Pava."

"You know it, Twist." She chirped, pulling you out of your room and back out into the world.

The party was in full swing when you arrived, complete with bonfire. Beebee spotted you first, whistling as it barrelled towards you at high speed. You crouched down to greet him, laughing as he jiggled his body sphere in excitement.

"Fully recharged, Bee, I promise." You said, nodding solemnly to their advice about the importance of regular recharging for humans.

"There she is!" Snap hollered from the bonfire.

"Twist!" Kaydel called, leaning heavily on Snap’s shoulder to stay upright. "Come join the fun!"

The pilots all yelled some form of encouragement, chorusing a toast to you. It would be embarrassing but last time there had been toasts to the inventor of caf, in reality they just wanted to down their drinks.

Jess led you to the circle, firmly pushing on your shoulders so you sat next to Poe. She winked with the subtlety of a nerf herd and swanned to the other side of the fire to sit with a grinning Tallie.

Poe offered you a bottle wordlessly. You took a gulp, smiling gratefully.

"Thanks Poe."

"I'm Poe again? Wasn't sure after you kicked me out the hangar." He teased, eyes gleaming in the firelight. He took a pull from his own drink, lips wrapping around the bottle stem distractingly.

"You reversed the polarity of the flashback suppressors, flyboy. You're lucky I let you back behind the joystick." You retorted, smile ruining the delivery.

"I needed the power!"

"You ruined a perfectly good X-wing!"

"I took out four TIEs!"

"Well, I'll be sure to send my condolences to their mechanics. Not the point, Poe!"

He burst out laughing, sending you into a fit of giggles, helped by the near empty bottle in your hand (when had that happened?)

"Truth or drink!" Kaydel cried, swaying a little on Snap's lap.

"How long have you guys been here?" You asked Poe, ducking your head closer to his so Kaydel couldn’t overhear the question.

"An hour, maybe less." Poe replied, leaning closer so you could hear. "Kay's just a lightweight.” He widened his eyes at you as she began hiccupping sending you into another giggle fit.

"Truth or drink!" Jess took up the call.

"Do you think I can escape without them noticing?" You looked around for an exit. Poe grabbed your wrist, hold easy enough to break if you really wanted to get away. The heat felt nice on your arm though, enough that you gulped a drink to suppress a shiver.

"Truth or drink." He said grinning, repeating himself more loudly for everyone else's benefit.

"I fix your x-wing and this is what it gets me? Betrayal." You gasped only a little serious, you did not need Jess' machinations with the combination of alcohol. He leant back to grab you another bottle as compensation.

"I'm right here, what's the worst that could happen?"

You shot him a flat look.

"Tempt the force, why don't you."

He chuckled, running a hand through his curls.

"I'm serious, it’s just a drinking game. You can do it with juice if you'd prefer."

"Kriff no. I'm keeping my plausible deniability for anything embarrassing I do or say."

He laughed again, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he looked at you.

“To plausible deniability." He said solemnly, clinking your drinks together. You smiled, ducking away from his gaze and tuning back into the game.

"Twist, truth or drink" Kaydel half sang, waggling her eyebrows, "who was your worst kiss?"

"Girl back home. Too much tongue." You grimaced, wrinkling your nose at the memory. Kissing really shouldn't involve that much of your face being wet.

You shuddered, physically rearing back from the memory ending up pressing your leg against Poe’s. You hesitated over moving it away, the decision made for you when he returned the pressure.

"Jess, why do we all call Twist, Twist?" Tallie asked innocently. You knew it was genuine curiosity, only Kaydel and Jess knew that story.

"Oh no." You whispered, closing your eyes.

"Yeah Jess, why do we call Twist, Twist?" Kaydel singsonged, Snap's arms around her waist acting like a seat belt to stop her keeling over.

"Funny story?" Poe asked amused, raising an eyebrow.

"Just embarrassing." You moaned, meeting Jess's eye across the fire and drawing a finger across your throat.

She smiled and nodded exaggeratedly.

"You ever had a pretzel, Tallie?" Jess began grandly, grin far more evil than normal.

"I hate you!" You wailed, turning to hide yourself behind Poe's shoulder. He patted your thigh sympathetically but made no move to actually stop Jess telling the story

Jess winked as she finished "Easy to get up there, harder to get down. When we found her she was all twisted up like a pretzel. Her ankles were round her ears.”

"I didn't know people could bend that way." Kaydel agreed seriously.

Poe choked on his drink, coughing loudly. You slapped his back a couple of times, rubbing over his shirt to soothe the sudden fit. Cheerfully ignoring everyone else as they carried on the game.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. It went down the wrong pipe." He wheezed.

"You've only been drinking for about thirty years, Poe, maybe you still need practice." You laughed, graciously ignoring the obscene hand gesture he made in response.

"Poe, Truth or dare?" Snap asked, mischievous gleam in his eye.

"I thought it was truth or drink?" Poe frowned, waggling his bottle at Snap.

"Please, it takes a barrel of Yavinese moonshine to get you drunk. Truth or dare?" Snap insisted.

Poe glanced at you, huffing resignedly.

"Dare."

Jess got up and whispered in his ear, too quietly for you to overhear even as close as you were. There was a pause as Poe glared at her before Jess whispered something else, a little more harshly.

Poe made a low rumbling noise of discontent in his throat but nodded anyway.

He took your hand gently, pulling you into the surrounding trees.

"Wha- Poe!"

You half stumbled to a wave of cheers and whistles from the pilots. You flushed unsure why exactly they were cheering.

He led you away from the firelight, shifting his grip to weave his fingers through yours.

"If you murder me, I will haunt you forever." You warned him, other hand coming up to hold his wrist so he couldn't vanish in the dark. "And if you abandon me out here I will find my way back to base and move all your furniture two inches to the left."

He stopped walking, smile clear even in the dark.

"No murder or abandoning, I promise." He said softly, tone just a hair too serious for a party game.

"Pinky swear?"

"Pinky swear." He linked his pinkies with yours, squeezing once before flipping them to hold both your hands in his.

"Poe-" Your voice was softer than you meant it to be, trying to read his expression for clues

“I want to kiss you." He whispered, eyes dropping to your lips. “Can I?”

You nodded, leaning in to press your lips to his.

He pulled back, your hand reaching to tangle with his hair so he couldn't go far.

“Poe?”

“You’re sure, I know we had a drink and-“

You kissed him, sliding a hand into his curls to hold him closer to you.

“I’m sure, Poe.”

He grinned wolfishly and kissed you again, firmer this time, pulling you closer to him until you were flush with his front. He pulled back again.

"Love it when you say my name." He confessed, pressing his forehead to yours.. "Try and get your attention just so you'll say it again."

He dipped to kiss you before you could answer, swallowing the whimper you made. One hand slid to the small of your back as the other cradled your jaw. You tugged on his curls, licking into his mouth and smiling at the harsh sound he made in response. Poe pushed on your hips, guiding you backwards until you were pressed against the nearest tree. The surface letting you arch against him without falling over.

"Poe!" your head rested on the trunk as you tried to catch your breath. He mouthed at your neck, nipping hard enough to make you buck against him.

"Dameron! You were supposed to tell Twist about your stupid crush, not abscond with her!" Jess's voice echoed through the trees.

"Abscond is a big word." You observed quietly, breath hitching as he sucked on a sensitive spot under your jaw.

"Is that really what you have to say?" He huffed, kissing the corner of your mouth.

"You have a crush?" You asked instead, smiling smugly, seizing the opportunity to return the favour and lick a stripe up his neck. The grunt was as gratifying as you suspected.

"A stupidly big one." He admitted, panting slightly. "Best mechanic in the galaxy, can't stop thinking about her."

"What a coincidence," You bit your lip as Poe's hand began encouraging you to rock on his thigh, "I have a crush on this pilot. Always driving me crazy, hanging about where I can look but not touch.”

Poe kissed you again, all wet heat, pinning you to the tree until you yielded to him.

"Dameron! Twist!" Jess's voice yelled, much closer. You looked at Poe, biting your lip to stop a laugh at his arrested expression.

"Walk me home, Poe?"

He pressed another searing kiss to your lips, taking your hand to lead you back to the base.

"You can touch me all you want when we get there."

[kerwritesthings]

The Exquisite Taste of Love

Summary: Everyone’s love language is different and special, getting to share that with the one who you call your heart is something else entirely

Word Count: almost 5.2k (Oops? But not really!)

Warning: tooth rotting sweetness, a touch of naughty and a whole lotta of love

Author Notes: What started out as inspiration from a gif, because the muse likes her pretty, evolved into the idea of a cute little Valentine’s Day blurb which then morphed into a bit of a love letter to the folks in this crazy corner of fandom who have been my biggest cheerleaders when it has come to my writing, with such open arms and friendship. My Valentine’s Day gift to them (and even to the rest of you) – but specially for @whenidance​, @parkerdavis​, @sinplisticshawn​, @fallinallincurls​, @illumecherry​, @hollandraul​ - y’all will notice little special fun in here for each and every one of you. My little love language gifts to you <3 

This, as always, falls again in line with this little world I’ve created, but again can be read as a stand-alone one shot piece, however I would recommend taking a read so you understand the build and the dynamics  – the masterlist of everything can be found here. 

“Can we do a baking night, like a date night?” he inquires, slinging himself against your back and nuzzling into your neck as you finish packing the cookies scattered across the kitchen island into Tupperware. You tried to get a jump on it this year, it’s your tradition to always gift your friends and family little homemade treats for Valentine’s Day. This year, you included adding in plans for special batches for some of Shawn’s team and his family, as well as a surprise for Shawn himself. Tonight’s adventure was for the folks whose items must hit the mail to get their treats in time.

“Wait, did I hear you right?” you giggle. “You, you’re asking to do something in the kitchen? By choice? That has nothing to do with trying to mix drinks?”

“Hey,” he whines, drawing out the y, licking sloppily at the side of your neck. “Can’t get better if I don’t try to learn right? And this is fun stuff, not like chicken or broccoli or pasta.”

“Baking is a lot more precise though than cooking. You need to follow recipes and instructions down to a tee,” you explain. “But you’re right, you won’t get better without trying it more. We’ll start with something a little on the easier side. I was going to do salted caramel cheesecake brownies and chocolate covered strawberries for your family to drop off on Friday. We can make them together.”

“Yay,” he replies, blowing a raspberry against your skin. “What else do you have to do?”

“Nothing else tonight thank goodness, these baby Linzer tarts and chocolate cherry truffles were enough,” you tell him as you package up the last of the chocolates. “I still need to make chocolate pretzel drops and spritz cookies for my office. The boys are going to get the crazy squares they inhaled the last time they were here, so I’m going make those for them. Need to figure out what to send the rest of your out of town contingent. Maybe Nanaimo bars. I may have something up my sleeve for you too, but you will have to wait and see on that.”

He shifts you about in his hold, pressing you into the back of the island before kissing you soundly. “I love that all my folks are now tangled up in your traditions, especially when they don’t need to be.”

“Of course, they do,” you state so matter of factly with a smile. “They’re a part of my life now too. You love them, so. Hell, I even have come to love some of them, despite me questioning why on a few.”

He laughs, swinging you around in his arms before sitting you down on the island before cupping your cheeks. The next thing you know, he’s kissing you again, “I love you. Now let’s plan out the next couple days of your crazy baking adventures.”

The next night while he’s locked away in the studio, Skype session with some of the LA crew you think, you at least get the dough made for the spritz cookies, settling in the fridge to chill, and the crazy squares done for his friends here at home. You’re elbows deep in coconut shortbread when you hear him padding down the hall.

“Ok whatever that it, it smells amazing. Coconut, vanilla and what else is in that?” he asks, hopping on the counter behind you. His long legs start swinging and his socked heels tapping against the cabinets like he’s a child.

“These my dear, are the Nanaimo bars. Or at least my version,” you explain, pushing your hair back off your face with your forearm not to get dough all over the place. “More coconut, vanilla and caramel than chocolate. It’s a coconut vanilla shortbread base, it’ll have a vanilla bean studded caramel custard in the middle. That’s in the fridge already, then I’ll do a chocolate caramel coconut topping for them. Figure little taste of Canada to send out to the rest of your folks.”

“I have no idea how you do it, but it looks and smells yummy. Think we can find candles that smell like this somewhere? That’s a scent I could get used to around here. Could sneak one on the road too, have for when I’m missing you,” he replies, poking his nose in some of the new Tupperware you have on the back counter by him. “What are these? They smell different, they’re not that.”

“Those are the crazy squares. It’s basically like a kitchen sink cookie, but in bar form. And since your friends are human garbage disposals when it comes to eating, I think it’s a good choice,” you get out through a laugh. “Oatmeal, chocolate chips, pretzels, potato chips, peanut butter and a little bit of toffee.”

“My little baking machine,” he comments with a tiny grin, stealing a small bar from the container he was sniffing in. “Damn, these are really good.”

“Shawn,” you yell, flicking the towel that was over your shoulder at his knee. “Those are gifts! No eating the presents. You’ll get your own treats.”

“’M sorry, but not really,” he mumbles through a mouth full of crazy square. “Ooh! We need cards to go with these.”

“What? No, baby we don’t,” you try to explain. “The gift is the goodies.”

“Nope. Cards. Have to,” he says, hopping down from the counter then hip bumping you. “At least for my parents, my sister, and then of course Didi and Tomas too. Maybe a stupid one for Cez to make him laugh.”

He drops a kiss to the tip of your nose, “I’ll handle it. Where did you stash all that extra craft stuff from when you had the A and all her girls over? The fancy scissors and all the paper?”

You have no idea what he’s up to, but you know you’re not going to be able to get him off this train. “Clear bin. Guest room closet, right hand side,” you describe. “Should be the one right on top.”

He scurries off and you just have to roll your eyes, biting back the giggle bubbling up. He’s such a softie. You love it, despite your reticence on his need for cards.

While you finish off the trays of bars, get the spritz cookies in the oven and start the chocolate pretzel drops, he’s stationing himself in the living room cross-legged in front of the coffee table. He’s awfully quiet, minus a hum here and there. You only hear the shuffling of papers and the click swish from scissors. You decide to let him be and have his fun, it gives you the time to finish off more than you were planning for the night.

When you’re done, you come out to a living room that’s just exploding with cut out hearts, but no Shawn. There’s a chain of them hanging from around the television, scattered piles over every table like confetti, a few bigger ones at the center of the coffee table in front of the couch.

“So, I may have been a little sneaky,” he confesses from behind you, arm wrapping around your hips to draw you towards him. “I made a few to use as cards but I wanted to do something a little randomly special for you early, since you’re doing all this baking for everyone when you really don’t have to.”

“You are such a squish Shawn,” you whisper, before leaning your head back on his shoulder. “It’s adorable. I love it. Thank you, sweetie.”

“Love you,” he murmurs into your hair.

There’s a massive vase of white roses and jasmine when you walk into the house the next night after work, sitting smack in the middle of the kitchen island, another cut out heart, this one bubble gum pink with silver writing on it, propped up against it.

So you can take the time to smell the roses, and the jasmine too. Can’t wait to bake with you later. Be home by 7 – xo S

“What is he up to now?” you mutter to yourself, not hearing anything in the condo other than the click of your heels on the kitchen tile floor. You find another bouquet in the living room, a smaller version in your bedroom on your bedside table, a new jasmine candle in your bathroom next to a tiny glass holding a fresh sprig of jasmine along with a tiny white rosebud and even a little spray of them on your desk in the guest room that doubles as your home office. You should be getting everything ready in the kitchen for the big bake, but you sit on the end of the bed needing a minute. You pick up the phone.

“What’s wrong?” Didi responds quickly. “You never call unless something’s wrong. Wait, did he propose finally? Is there a ring? You’re not pregnant, are you? Shit girl I told you...”

“Damnit Dee. No, breathe,” you try breaking through on your best friend’s babble. “There is definitely not a baby. Shit’s sake. Not doing things reverse order. Plus, there’s new album and tour and life. So no, not that. And. When there’s a ring, it’ll be a FaceTime, not a phone call. He just. Last night it was cut out hearts everywhere. Today, I come home. The condo’s filled with white roses and jasmine. Everywhere.”

It’s quiet for a moment. “You cry yet?” she asks softly.

“No,” you sniff. “Close though. I think I only mentioned this once. Of course, he remembers and then goes and does something like this.”

“He’s your person, girly,” Didi replies. “And a mushy lovey fucker for you at that.”

Your best friend is right. He is. “Thanks D, I needed this. I gotta go though I’m sorry. I’m attempting to teach him brownie baking tonight. I still need to change and get everything ready before he’s back at 7. I’ll text you.”

Quickly you throw yourself together as best as you could, changing and pulling everything you need to together along with moving the flowers in the kitchen to the living room. You’re rinsing off the strawberries when you hear his keys hit the lock.

“In the kitchen,” you call out when the door shuts.

“Good day?” he asks, head leaning in to place a kiss against your shoulder, his lips cold against your skin exposed by your tank top.

“Better when I got home,” you reply, leaning your head against his still pressing against you. “You’re a crazy boy, and I don’t even know how to say thank you for it. They’re beautiful. All of them.”

He kisses your shoulder again, before shifting to trail his lips up your neck, nibbling at your ear before a lingering kiss to your cheek. “Love you is all,” he states casually. “Let me change and then I’ll be back in for my lesson.”

While he’s gone, you decide to get the strawberries out of the way first. Brownies will be the more complicated of the two, so to start easier will be a good idea. He comes back in as you’re breaking up the chocolate bars into a large glass bowl.

“Chocolate covered strawberries first,” you begin. “They’re the less difficult of what’s on the agenda and we should get them dipped and set in the fridge before the oven gets on and warms the kitchen. Normally I’d melt and temper the chocolate over a double boiler, but not fussing with that tonight. It’s breaking it up, adding a little bit of oil and melting it in the microwave. Then we just dip away. I’ll finish on the milk, why don’t you get started on either the dark or the white, then I’ll do the other when I’m done.”

The both of you find a rhythm, breaking and chatting, sneaking in a kiss here or a prolonged touch there while you get the chocolate ready.

“Now, that those are melted. We pat the strawberry dry to make sure the chocolate will stick,” you explain, showing him the first one. “Hold it closer to the end of the stem and swirl, leave a little bit showing and let it drip the extra chocolate off, then place it down on the wax paper. Once they’re all dipped, we can drizzle another color chocolate over it with what’s left.”

“This isn’t so bad,” he declares after a few rows of berries are done. “Though, I think I know a way to make this a little more fun.”

He dips his finger around the edge of the bowl with the dark chocolate, pulling some off the glass. He eyes you carefully, crooking the chocolate covered finger at you.

“Shawn,” you question.

“C’mere,” he requests. You move slowly over, his non chocolate covered hand grabbing a strong hold against the curve of your hip. He takes the chocolate laden finger, tracing your bottom lip first, then the dip between your collarbones, chocolate sticking carefully against your skin.

“Dessert before dinner, yum,” he whispers, a breath from your lips before sinking into them. Licking his way into your mouth, you can’t help but slide your hands into his hair and moan. It was dirty and deep from the start, but when you flick your tongue against his, you feel his grip on your hip tighten even more.

He breaks from you first, trailing his lips down your cheek, across your neck to latch onto your collarbone and the chocolate he left there. You don’t want him to leave a mark, but secretly, you’re hoping he does.

“Baby,” you whine, hands gripping at his hair harder as he bites and sucks along the line of your bone. At this rate you’re going to be so bruised. He nips his way back up your neck before sipping at your lips again, leaving you breathless.

“Mmm, well you’re quite delicious, I think like this baking thing,” he grins like a cat who got the cream.

“It’ll be my turn soon, don’t you worry,” you proclaim, trying to stir the rest of the chocolate back to life. “Let’s finish these off before the chocolate starts gets too firm.”

He slides behind you, leaning in flush against your back, “I could make a really bad joke here, you know.”

You feel him, half hard and snug against your ass.

“Baking, Shawn. We’re baking,” you remind him with a sigh, while arching back to tease him. “You’re the one who asked for a baking date night. There will be more of that after if you’re lucky and you behave.”

He bites at your earlobe, grinding into you once. “Can we keep some chocolate for later then?”

You push back at him, “Says the one who isn’t always keen on chocolate.”

“But it’s chocolate off you, it automatically tastes better and makes me want more of it,” he proclaims with a cheeky smile, sliding over to the sink to wash his hands.

You make quick work of the last of the berries, getting the trays into the fridge so you can finally get going on the brownies.

“Salted caramel cheesecake brownies next,” you say as you pull the bricks of cream cheese from the fridge and the blocks of butter off the back counter. “Two different batters, but they’re both pretty easy. We start with the brownie batter first, then whip the cheesecake batter, swirl the dulce de leche through that, then swirl that into the brownie batter. Drizzle it all with a little more caramel, then sprinkle on some flaky sea salt before popping them into the oven.”

“It’s unfair how you make it sound so simple and easy,” he notes, watching you measure out cocoa powder. “I see that recipe and it’s like 38 steps long.”

“Not that many. Come over here, I promise let me show you, it’s not hard,” you slide your arm through his to pull him closer.

“That’s what she said,” he quips, poking at your side. The two of you plug away step by step, first on the brownie mixture, before starting in on the cheesecake. While you trust Shawn to continue keeping an eye on the whipping cream cheese in the stand mixer, you break out the jar of dulce de leche you’ve had warming slowly in a warm pan of water on the stove.

“Now that it’s done, and once this is a little cooler, we’ll drizzle some of this in there to make a ribbon through it before adding it into the pan with the brownie batter,” you describe, popping the lid carefully off.

You dip your pinkie into the warm sugary syrup, “Mmm liquid gold. This is perfect.”

Shawn snags your hand before you get a chance to wipe it on the towel, popping your pinkie into his mouth.

“Damnit Shawn,” you husk out as he works at your finger with his tongue. While he’s preoccupied, you quickly poke another finger from your left hand into the jar. Payback, you think, is a bitch. You slide your pointer finger down the line of his jaw before taking it down the line of his neck. His eye pop open and grow wide, sliding your finger free.

You don’t give him a chance to say a word, latching onto his jaw. His hands grasp you immediately, one lacing around the back of your head to hold you to him, the other square on your ass. You take your time, just as he did earlier, licking and nibbling your way through the sweet caramel until you hit his skin.

“Sweetheart,” he moans, almost bordering on a growl, when you hit that spot on his neck that drives him crazy. The hand on your ass draws you closer to him, sliding his thigh between your legs. You keep at that spot, you know there’s nothing coming up so if you do mark him up, which you want to do badly, there’s no real repercussions.

“Shit, baby,” he whines, needy and desperate as you keep up your assault on his neck. You make quick work on the rest of the dulce, sliding right back up to exactly where you know you can get him keening. Kitten licks at first, then tiny bites soothed by a bit of sucking. You keep the pattern up for a few passes, his skin warm under your tongue, warm until you know they’ll be a bit of a reminder tomorrow.

“Fuck,” he bites out, drawing you up and away from his neck to bring you up to meet his eyes.

“Something wicked this way comes,” you smirk, licking at your lips.

He dives for your mouth, hot and hard and fast until you’re both out of breath.

“Now, think we can keep our hands to ourselves to get these in the oven?” you pant. “And when your mother asks how we made these together, we do not tell her about the soft-core porn action in the kitchen.”

He kisses you sweetly, softly, “I think it would be a fun story though.”

You roll your eyes, pushing at his chest, “Brownies, swirling, salting and into the oven. C’mon.”

You both manage to keep your hands, and your lips, to yourself for the rest of the process. You cannot help but chuckle, watching him salt the brownies ever so carefully. “It’s like icy snow,” he proclaims, grinning like a little kid.

Once in the oven, you split clean up duty and then start to pack up the berries off the trays.

“I feel bad that I can’t go with you to drop this all off tomorrow, but there’s no way I can duck out early enough,” you lament, shifting the berries about to make sure they’re not going to be smushed in transport.

“The fact you made all this for them, from scratch no less, is more than enough,” he insists. “I normally just send flowers. Which I’m still doing for both of them. This is just over the top extra awesome.”

You can’t help but smile, “They’re my family now too. Well, close enough you know? I love them…”

He wraps you in a hug, “I love that you consider them yours, cause they are. Absolutely, they’re your family. Now, let’s finish this and go cuddle on the couch until the brownies are done.”

Before leaving for the office, with Shawn still cozy in bed asleep since you’re up a good deal earlier than normal today, you slip out the red box you’ve had hidden in the back of the pantry out onto the kitchen counter. Inside, a few smaller red containers, filled with his treat surprises for the day.

You steal one of the blank hearts from the dining room table, a white one, for a note.

For my darling, the first of a few surprises for you today. Despite your recent affection for chocolate, here’s a little something to start your day. Through the day you’ll find little things here and there, just small little sweets that I know you adore, maybe as much as me. Because my heart, you have mine and I want to spoil you a little today. Love you valentine xo <3

You prop the note against one of the larger containers, this a perfect square. The first time you ever made him your lemon lime scones, it was one of first nights you stayed over. He waxed poetic about them for days. You knew they had to be a part of his treat trail today. This time though in a mini version. The second box, a smaller thinner one, you slide into his guitar case, filled with rolls of homemade strawberry fruit leathers. A third box, shortbread thumbprints with sour cherry jam, you place in his studio by his journal. The fourth, in a tin on top of the corner chair in the living room where he leaves one of his guitars out always, most difficult of the treats you made for him - tequila laced gummy bears. The final, and a last minute addition made last night when he was half dozy on the couch and thought you were boxing the brownies, a few chocolate covered caramels that you leave by his keys at the front table as a nod to last night’s funtivities.

You grab the bag filled with the baked treats for your office and head out the door. When you finally arrive at your office, a few minutes late because of your hiding duties at home and setting up your treats for the team in the kitchen, you’re greeted by a bouquet of blush peonies and antique roses.

“Came in just a few minutes ago,” Rosalie, the office receptionist tinkers gleefully, peeking her head into your office. “Do we get to see that boy of yours today? That would be a lovely Valentine’s Day treat.”

Rosalie, who is old enough to be your grandmother but has the energy level of a teenager, absolutely adores Shawn. They’re thick as thieves, getting along together immediately. She mothers the heck out of him when he comes to see you, helps him sneak things into your office, the two of them gang up on you to make sure you’re fed and hydrated when you’re pulling late hours, and is an absolute godsend when you work remote if you’re out on the road with him.

“Not sure,” you smile, smelling one of the blooms. “I know he’s heading out to Pickering at some point to see his family. Not sure what he’s got up his sleeve or has plans on for later. I’m being surprised. Best not poke at him and ruin whatever he’s got going.”

“Just let him know his smiling face is missed around here ok?” she nods, heading back towards her desk.

You snap a quick photo of the flowers and fire off a text – Happy Valentine’s Day indeed. They’re so pretty, thank you! <3 ilu :) xo

You’re knee deep in trying to clean out your inbox when your phone chimes. A selfie, his bed head in full force and he’s smiling around one of the scones in his mouth. Omg you made me the Sprite scones! AND THEY ARE TINY BABY SIZED ONES I CAN FIT IN MY MOUTH ALL AT ONCE! Followed by alternating string of lemon, soda cup, green and yellow heart emojis.

He finds the thumbprints next, a photo of a cookie next to him giving you a thumbs up, more emojis again this time alternating the cherries, red lips and red heart. Where did you find the sour cherry jam? I haven’t been able to find it anywhere. OR DID YOU MAKE THIS TOO?!

Immediately after was a boomerang, the tin of strawberry fruit rolls, rocking and rolling back and forth. Followed by strawberry emojis between kissy face smileys. These taste exactly like you do after we go strawberry picking in the spring and you sneak berries along the way when you think no one is looking. But I always am.

It takes a little longer for the next find. You’re in the middle of a conference call when your phone starts buzzing. A gif of a worm with a sombrero on, tipping back on a bottle of tequila. How the hell did you make me seriously boozy af gummy bears? They’re as big as my thumb! I can’t have these before heading out to the ‘rents. I’m drunk already from just smelling them.

You have to mute your line and laugh heartily. This right here made it all worth it. His reactions are priceless. You’re so glad the little surprises are making him this silly happy.

The next one, about half an hour later, is a voice memo.

“You sneaky, naughty little minx,” he husks out, voice deep. “Chocolate caramels. You knew exactly what I’d think of, didn’t you? I’m in the car trying to get out and through downtown, but now all I can think about since finding them are your breathy little moans, your hands in my hair and your mouth at my throat. Fuck baby, you definitely left the best for last. I snuck them in the car to have one on the ride, but there’s no way I can even try one now.” He pauses for a beat; a hard sigh escapes his lips. “Just you wait until later. Now, I need to get out of this tangle you’ve got me in before I get home to my parents. I’ll be back by the time you get home from work. I love you sweetheart.”

Thank god you didn’t put that on speakerphone. He sounded like pure wicked sin, plain and simple. He’s got you in knots now too. You just need to get through the rest of the day in one piece. Thankfully, your boss kicks the entire office out early, partially because of her own plans, and partially because of the long weekend stateside. You’ll take it. Hopefully you can beat Shawn home to be able to maybe shower and change before he gets back.

A cute video comes through as you walk out of the office, from his sister. “First off, I’m mad at Shawn for not bringing you with, but then he said you had work. So, I let it slide. A little at least. Then he let us open the goodies. You made all our favorites! You’re the best. Please come visit, or let’s plan another girls’ night and we’ll kick him out of the condo! Wait wait, hold on. Someone else wants to say thanks!” She pans her phone to the kitchen and flips the camera around. “Sweetie, thank you so much for all the treats. You will need to send me the recipe for the brownies, they’re delicious. I still don’t believe Shawn helped you with all this, if that’s the case, congratulations for getting him in the kitchen willingly. And without disaster, I hope at the very least. I’m hiding some so maybe there’s still some left when Manny makes it home. Let’s figure out dinner all of us together next week. Love you!”

Warmth spreads through you as you navigate your way back home after that one. You’re floating at this point. However, you did not luck out in beating him back as you walk through the door. There’s a litany of white pillar candles of all different heights and thicknesses everywhere in the living room, flickering as if they’re just lit. There he is, ensconced in the corner of the couch, guitar slung across his lap. He smiles, patting the open cushion next to him.

“I will spare you from the ultimate perfect yet cheesy Canadian Valentine’s Day, singing some Celine Dion love song to you,” he jokes, pressing a lengthy kiss to your temple. “But I did dig through someone’s playlists to find something. Mind you, this is only part of your gift, which will never rank up against all that you did for me today. That was, just, ridiculous and perfect and sweet. So damn thoughtful, babe. I loved it.”

He leans over to quickly press a kiss at the corner of your mouth before diving into the song.

“The dawn is breaking, a light shining through. You're barely waking and I'm tangled up in you,” he sings. “I’m open, you're closed. Where I follow, you'll go. I worry I won't see your face light up again.”

Your breath sticks in your throat. Your brain scrambles slightly, eyes clouding up. You miss him sing the chorus the first go, the blood rushing through your ears.

“I'm quiet you know. You make a first impression. I've found I'm scared to know I'm always on your mind. Even the best fall down sometimes, even the stars refuse to shine. Out of the back you fall in time. I somehow find you and I collide,” he continues. “Even the best fall down sometimes. Even the wrong words seem to rhyme. Out of the doubt that fills my mind, I somehow find you and I collide.”

You sniff as he finishes, shifting his guitar out of his hands to move behind you before throwing yourself into his lap, arms tight around his neck. “So, you’re going to need to record that for me, so I have that to sing me to sleep when you’re out on tour. Honey, that was just…”

You trail off, leaning your forehead against his, trying to catch your breath and your words all at once. His hands a steady hold on your waist, fingers trailing up and down slightly.

“Just when I think you’ve permeated every part of my heart already, you go and do something like that,” you profess honestly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispers against your lips. “So much.” He draws you closer, arms tightening around you. His heartbeat a tether to yours, a steady rhythm in time with each other’s beats. 

TAG LIST: @whenidance, @parkerdavis, @sinplisticshawn, @hollandraul, @fallinallincurls, @itrocksmysocks, @rainbowshawn, @lasingphomustra, @illumecherry​

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

banjou at a gym with the other build characters

Ok, I shit you not, my dear, I have been thinking about this prompt all goddamn day, and I’m grateful to you, because it’s giving me the chance to go back to a fic idea I wrote about half of two months ago and then abandoned. The original thing was inspired by Dorian Electra’s track “Man To Man,” which is a very beautiful song about the inherent eroticism of beating the ever-loving tar out of your bro as a viable alternative to a confession of love. This story is...not that, but bits of its genesis remain.

Surprisingly, it’s Kazumi’s idea first, pacing like a trapped cat in the lab until finally Sento asks what his problem is and he says, “Look, I’m going fucking crazy with all this waiting, can we do something? I saw a gym a few streets over, do you think it has a pool or something?”

Banjou perks up, and Gentoku says, “It’s worth checking, at least,” and Misora and Sawa both agree that swimming could be nice, and Sento is dubious but finally acknowledges that at the very least he needs to go outside for a bit.

The gym was busy only a week ago, a popular spot for the city’s few professional sports players and occasional wealthy fitness enthusiasts, but now that almost everyone’s evacuated it’s a ghost town. They didn’t even have to break the lock to get in; whoever was last here left it open--maybe it was an oversight, but it’s just as likely that they didn’t care.  The place is untouched, anyway, equipment dusty but in pristine working condition, the water still running, the refrigerators in the little shop still humming along as they preserve a variably-absurd selection of sports drinks.

Unfortunately, there’s no pool, but there are heavy bags, and the tension visibly goes out of Banjou’s shoulders when he sees them. “I’m gonna...” he gestures at them vaguely. “It’s been. So long since I actually got to punch something in a normal way.” He steals a package of hand-wraps from the shop, strips off his shirt, and in moments he’s off in his own little world, methodically beating down whatever opponent his chosen heavy bag embodies.

After a minute of staring at this, Misora and Sawa grab a bag of pretzels, find a bench to sit on, and settle down to watch him.

“I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing here,” Sento says to the air.

“You could also watch Banjou punch things.” Misora offers him the bag. “It’s not like you don’t spend enough time staring at him as it is.”

Sento turns bright red, makes an indignant noise, and then sits down next to her and takes a handful of pretzels.

Gentoku wanders around the room for a few minutes, looking at the various machines, and then grabs another two packages of hand-wraps from the shop and throws one to Kazumi. “Hey, Potato. Fight me?”

“I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with these things, Beardy.” Kazumi waves the package at him. “Also, since when do you box?”

“I was in the judo club in high school until the meetings started interfering with Model UN. And I boxed a bit in college. You don’t know how to wrap your hands?”

“No, who does that? I mean except him, he’s like. A professional. Me and the boys used to fight for fun, but we never used these things.”

Banjou stops dead and turns a disbelieving stare at him. “What kind of fighting were you doing?”

Kazumi shrugs. “You know. Boxing. Clear out a space in the barn, get some whiskey, fight until everyone’s either bored, unconscious, or too drunk to stand up.”

“You used to fight bare-knuckle in a barn?”

“It’s moments like this when I remember that I’m surrounded by city people.”

“I don’t know if this makes me respect you more or less.”

“Yeah, that’s part of my appeal.” Kazumi’s already pulling off his coat and shirt. “Nobody can make up their damn mind about me.”

“This is much more fun than I was expecting,” Sawa says to nobody as Gentoku and Kazumi start circling each other. “I mean, no pool, but I think this is better.”

For the next ten minutes or so nobody really talks. Banjou beats up the heavy bag. Gentoku and Kazumi feint at each other and land very few actual hits. Misora and Sawa watch them, passing the bag of pretzels back and forth and occasional murmuring to each other. Sento also watches and has some pretzels, but then he pulls a piece of the Hassyar out of his coat pocket and settles in to repair it.

The silence is finally broken when his precision screwdriver clatters to the floor and rolls away. “Fucking--”

Banjou steps away from the heavy bag, grabs the screwdriver, and brings it back over, crouching down to hold the piece steady while Sento screws the panel back on. “This shit’s tiny, how do you do this without getting a headache?”

“I don’t, I always have a headache. And my hands cramp up.”

“Maybe you need wraps.” Banjou takes the piece and the screwdriver from Sento and sets them aside on the bench before taking one of Sento’s hands in both of his. “Here, one of my instructors taught me this for dealing with arthritis stuff, it’s really good for--” and stops. “Sento, when did you break your finger?”

Sento frowns. “What? I didn’t break my finger.”

“Don’t bullshit me, this finger was broken. And not set right. It wasn’t, like, a big break, but it was definitely broken.” Banjou frowns down at Sento’s hand. “So was this one. And this one might have--lemme see the other one.” He grabs Sento’s other hand over Sento’s irritated protest. “I’m seeing...at least two breaks here, and none of them healed right.” Beat. “Sento, make a fist.”

“Why?”

“Just do it, asshole, I need to see something.”

Sento scowls and curls his right hand into a fist.

Banjou looks at it closely, and his eyebrows draw down. “Who taught you how to punch? Isurugi must have--he just put you in the suit but didn’t teach you how to hit someone?” At Sento’s flinch, “Look, don’t answer that, just. I mean at least your thumb is outside your fist? That’s something? Because otherwise you would have broken your thumb and you would definitely have noticed that. Have you just been breaking your fingers all this time and ignoring it? Didn’t you care that they hurt?” As he’s talking, his hands are busy, adjusting the curl of Sento’s fingers, the position of his thumb.

Sento sounds more weary than anything when he says, “All of me hurts, Banjou. I don’t know why my hands should be any different.”

Everyone is already turning politely away as Banjou goes a bit red in the face and says, quietly, “Well, I care that your hands hurt.” Then, louder, “Come on, stand up, I’m going to show you how to punch.”

“Can’t I just watch you three and figure it out?” Sento isn’t actually fighting as Banjou pulls him to his feet. “I have things I could be working on.”

“No, you can’t just watch me, you have to feel how it works. And you definitely can’t watch them, because they have terrible goddamn form,” said loudly over his shoulder in the direction of Kazumi and Gentoku, who pause in the middle of trading headlocks to flip him off. “And also when’s the next time I’m gonna get to be the one who knows something you don’t know?”

“You’re never going to let me forget this, are you.” Sento pulls off his sweater. His mouth has a familiar twitch at the corners, as if he’s trying desperately to suppress a smile.

“Hell no, I’m gonna be riding this high for at least a week.” Banjou grins at him. “Come on, smart guy. Punch me.”

[ranxiaolong]

The Woman who fell in Love with the Stars - Chapter 3 - The Woman who fell in Love with the Stars

Chapters: [1] [2] 3 [4] [5]

Sneak Peek:

“Mama! Mama! Tell me the tale of the man who fell in love with the stars!”

“Again, darling? I told you that one last night,” your mother was looking through the small bookshelf beside your bed, looking for a story to send you to sleep with.

“And the night before that, and the night before that,” you sarcastically stated for a child of three, “And I want to listen to it again tonight!”

Your mother sighed. It would be of little use to argue. “Fine. but—” your mother had a stern look on her features that didn’t reflect in eyes that shone with mirth, “—I get to choose the story tomorrow. Deal?”

“Deal!” you squealed excitedly, hiding your crossed fingers beneath the covers.

The older woman chuckled, “Okay then. Where shall we start?”

“At the beginning!” you gasped, the prospect of starting anywhere else nothing short of a heinous crime.

“All right, all right,” your mother ran her fingers over your hair, “At the beginning.”

A/n: Thank you so much for your patience! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

You dashed excitedly through the TARDIS, eyes lit up as you opened the doors down an endless tunnel of rooms. You had found all sorts of odd rooms, ranging from closets to the library (which you made a mental note of) to the swimming pool. You even managed to find a room that solely held one of those machines that made those big, squishy pretzels (you definitely made a mental note of that one as well). 

You left the newfound room, warm pretzel in hand, walking lightly down the corridor. You stopped at a set of double doors, very similar to the rest, yet something seemed to tug you towards it. You rested your hand flat against the smooth material. 

You inhaled, sticking the pretzel in your mouth, and placed your other hand on the second door. Internally you counted to three, pushing the doors open. 

It was dark. 

You squinted.

That did not help.

You stepped forward into the room, eyes straining to make out any sort of shapes. Your tongue clicked as there was a lack of furniture—or anything really—in the room, save for a ledge that looked like it led down into an amphitheater. One of your eyebrows quirked up. Drawing the best conclusion you could come to, you looked up to the ceiling.

You gasped, pretzel dropping from your mouth. Your eyes went wide as you juggled the squishy bread before managing to properly catch it in your hands, a sigh of relief brushing past your lips. You glanced back up at the ceiling of the room. 

Stars.

The ceiling was covered in stars.

As your gaze was glued to the uncanny resemblance to the speckled night sky, the Doctor was strolling through the halls—the humans on the TARDIS were busy exploring the ship. She stopped beside the open double doors of the room you were entranced by, looking in to see your eyes wide in wonder. A soft chuckle, just beneath her breath, rumbled out of the Time Lord’s chest.

Humans were fascinated so easily.

With a wide smile on her lips, the Doctor approached you from behind. 

“Enjoying yourself?”

You jumped in surprise.

The Doctor’s voice was so close to your ear.

A hearty laugh erupted from the Doctor’s breast, “Sorry, sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You looked over your shoulder sheepishly, “It’s okay. I should’ve been paying more attention.”

The Doctor’s smile softened, eyes glittering, “Want me to show you how it works?”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you nodded furiously, “Please!”

The Doctor picked up a small box, about the size of a decent hardcover novel, by the entrance of the room and walked back to sit on a ledge that went down into the theater. She patted the surface next to her, motioning for you to sit beside her.

You hurriedly plopped down, eager to see how the contraption worked.

“So here,” the Doctor held up the box, full of dials, switches, and a keypad upon closer inspection, “you can control where you’re viewing from, yeah?”

The Time Lord proceeded to turn the dials and the sky shifted. All the stars stayed the same, but they began to move across their dark curtain—as if you were moving amongst them.

A soft sound of appreciation left your lips. 

As the Doctor continued to explain how the device worked, you found your eyes being drawn to the profile of the woman’s face. Her blonde locks fell softly against her skin.

Your cheeks flushed and you turned to look back up at the lights decorating the planetarium.

The Doctor was excitedly pointing out constellations and stars to you. Nothing was familiar about them, but that had more to do with the settings being over three hundred light-years away and nearly five thousand years in your future. 

You hesitated, biting your lip. You decided to take a leap of courage. You slowly leaned your head on the Doctor’s shoulder. 

The alien tensed briefly before quickly relaxing against your touch. She leaned slightly against you as well, moving closer under the pretense of pointing out the stars.

Riiiing! Riiiing! Riiiing!

You bolted up from your bed, breathing harshly and sweating profusely. Once you gathered your bearings, you groaned and placed your head in your hands. 

A dream. It was just a dream.

A shaky breath left your lips. 

Of course.

—————

“What’re you doin’ ‘ere?” You rubbed your eyes with the heel of your hand, yanking the door open.

“Good morning to you, too.” Yaz held up a paper bag in one hand and a small drink carrier with two cups inside, “I got you breakfast.”

You blinked.

You lifted your wrist, checking the time. “It’s, like, seven in the morning.”

She lifted the items slightly again, “Breakfast.”

“It’s the weekend.”

“I got your favorite?”

Yaz rolled her eyes, passing you as she walked through the door as you stepped to the side. You locked the door behind her, yawning and bleary-eyed.

“Isn’t today your day off?”

“Yeah.”

You eyed Yaz suspiciously as you followed her to the dining table. “Then why are you here so early in the morning?”

She shrugged, “Can’t I come to visit my best friend?”

“You hate waking up early in the morning.”

“Not as much as you, apparently.”

You snorted, plopping yourself in your chair. “What’s the occasion?”

Yaz bit her lip, eyes glanced at your form before quickly flitting away. “Just thought it’d be nice. No special occasion.”

You squinted, your mind still trying to kick itself awake.

“I wanted to spend more time with you.” Yaz’s eyes refused to maintain a connection with your own. “I wanted to see you.”

Your nose scrunched in confusion, “We practically see each other every day.”

Yaz pulled out a small white paper bag from the larger brown one, shoving it in front of your nose. The scent of your favorite pastry filled your nostrils. 

“Just eat.”

You were quickly distracted, eagerly pulling out the warm bread. You bit into the flaky dough, a low moan of delight leaving your throat as it seemed to melt in your mouth. 

“You remembered my favorite!” You smiled brightly through a mouthful of delicious pastry. 

Yaz’s gaze was still averted. “Of course I would.”

There seemed to be additional words that were left unsaid, the sentence left hanging.

You happily went back to munching on the pastry. 

You swallowed the large bite you had just taken, “You can only get these on the other side of town. Only that Asian bakery that’s always completely packed sells them.”

Yaz hummed in acknowledgment.

Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment, “You didn’t have to wake up early to get this for me—of course, I appreciate it!—but you practically have to get there when they open to get the best ones.”

Yaz nodded half-heartedly, eyes still pointed out the window. “It’s no big deal.”

“Yaz.”

“For you, it’s okay.”

You hesitated, not sure how to respond. “Thank you.”

A light hue of pink rose in Yasmin’s cheeks.

“Of course.”

You continued nibbling on your breakfast, chewing slowly.

“You don’t need to worry so much, you know. I’m doing a lot better than when it all started.”

Yaz shook her head, “That’s not why I’m doing this.”

You cocked your head in confusion.

“I’m not visiting you like this just because of the Doctor. This isn’t out of pity.” Yaz bit her lip, “I really did just want to see you.”

Your gaze was soft, ”I know. Thank you, Yaz. Really”

Yaz nodded and sipped her drink.

“Have any plans set up?”

“Not much to report, I’m afraid. And the way you monopolize my time, you’d be the first to know.” Your eyes twinkled mischievously.

“Anything new, then?”

You sighed, shaking your head.

“I did want to check-in, though. Anything new with the Doctor?”

Your nose scrunched.

Yazmin’s eyebrows raised, “What was it?”

You chuckled dryly, “Which stage of grief does having dreams about the woman you’re still in love with that rejected you fall under?”

Yasmin paused.

You fiddled with your cup. 

“I think,” Yaz started, “that you may need to expand a bit on that.”

You sighed.

“I’ve been having,” you gestured vaguely with your hand, “dreams where the Doctor pops up.”

Yaz gave you a side-eye.

“Is this something that’s actually safe to share?”

“What?” Your face scrunched in confusion, “Why wouldn’t it be...” Your eyebrows shot up, eyes wide, “Oh! No, no, no, no, no! Not like that!” Your face quickly flushed crimson, hands waving the thought away wildly. “Just random things. Like memories from on the TARDIS.”

Yasmin sighed, resting her cheek in her palm, elbow supported on the wooden table, “You still love her, huh?” Yaz’s tone was quiet and slightly deflated.

You nod.

“I don’t think that they will go away soon.” Yaz’s eyes shifted towards the window,  “I mean, how many months have you had a crush on—” Yaz swallowed, “loved her.”

You squirmed in your seat.

Yaz sighed, “Look, my point is that since you’ve had these feelings for a while they aren’t likely to resolve overnight. You’re going to continue thinking about her for a bit. It’s not like you can just forget about her after everything that happened.”

You nodded.

It was hard to forget about the stars.

“I’m always available if you want to talk, but please don’t bottle this up. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

You smiled weakly.

“Thanks, Yaz.”

Her lips pulled up slightly, “Always.”

—————

“Mama! Mama! Tell me the tale of the man who fell in love with the stars!”

“Again, darling? I told you that one last night,” your mother was looking through the small bookshelf beside your bed, looking for a story to send you to sleep with.

“And the night before that, and the night before that,” you sarcastically stated for a child of three, “And I want to listen to it again tonight!”

Your mother sighed. It would be of little use to argue. “Fine. but—” your mother had a stern look on her features that didn’t reflect in eyes that shone with mirth, “—I get to choose the story tomorrow. Deal?”

“Deal!” you squealed excitedly, hiding your crossed fingers beneath the covers.

The older woman chuckled, “Okay then. Where shall we start?”

“At the beginning!” you gasped, the prospect of starting anywhere else nothing short of a heinous crime.

“All right, all right,” your mother ran her fingers over your hair, “At the beginning.”

Your mother pushed the book in her hand back onto the shelf—the story not being one told through pages. It had been passed down for generations: ‘the man who fell in love with the stars.’

Your mother sat on the edge of your bed, “Ready?”

You nodded.

“Of all the stories of broken-hearted lovers, none was ever quite as tragic as the man who fell in love with the stars.”

You settled further into the covers.

“It all started one night the man was walking back to his house from the river. He had spent the entire day fishing underneath the hot sun. He always left the river before dusk, not wanting to walk through the forest at night. 

“But this day he did not. He had not caught anything all day and stayed at the river longer in hopes of catching something to eat. The man had little luck, only managing to catch a small trout. Eventually, the man decided to pack up and start his journey home. The sun had begun to set, purples and reds painting the sky.”

You listened intently, small hands gripping your blankets in anticipation. Your mother's hands were expressive in their storytelling, helping to illustrate the scene in your mind.

On the man’s long trudge home the sky had turned dark. The man had walked with his head down to the road, not wanting to fall prey to anything in the forest. As the man neared his cabin, he looked up in relief. In his eyes glanced up and the man froze. He took in the sky and he was in awe—starstruck. 

The stars were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The man quickly ran inside to put down his fishing equipment, running back out to gaze at the sky. He stayed out all night, watching the stars on their journey through the sky. 

Once the sun began to peek over the horizon the stars had fled, so the man went back inside to go to sleep. That day, the man goes out fishing again, this time full of anticipation. He eagerly awaits the night, wishing to see the beauty of the stars once again. The man stayed out once more, watching the stars traverse the black canvas. 

The man went to bed late again, spending the entire night watching the stars. This continued for days and days. The man kept on watching the stars, falling deeper and deeper in love with them. He watched them shine brilliantly, and was perturbed when they were blocked from view, often by the moon’s jealous light.

One day the man confessed his love to the stars, pronouncing his everlasting admiration to the heavens. 

The heavens did not respond.

The next night a layer of clouds blocked the night sky from view. The man wept, thinking the sky did not return his affections. 

Not to be deterred, the man once again professed his love to the stars. And once again, the stars did not answer. The man continued to howl declarations of eternal love into the night sky, hoping the stars would change their mind.

Nearly a week passed and the clouds still covered the sky.

The man could no longer take not being able to see the stars. He ran outside, falling to his knees on the ground. He shouted apologies to the sky, that he wouldn’t burden the stars with his feelings as long as he could continue to see them. 

Even if the stars weren’t for him to love selfishly, he did not want the stars to stay hidden, their beauty to brilliant to be squandered because of his selfish love.

The next night the clouds had disappeared, stars glowing brilliantly in the sky.

The man looked sorrowfully up to the stars hanging above. Even if he could never declare his love again, or even hear their response, it was far better to be able to watch the stars from afar. 

The man went back to his day as he used to, waking up early, go to the river to fish, then go home. But every once and again, he would stay out just a little later than usual, just long enough to get a glimpse of the stars.

Your mother tucked you into bed as you yawned. “There, now it’s time to go to sleep.” She leaned down to place a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Mama?” You asked, half asleep.

“Yes, darling?”

“What if the stars did love him but they couldn’t tell him?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if he was looking at the wrong stars? There are like a bajillion stars in the sky. What if he was looking at the wrong ones?” You waved your short arms in an exaggerated motion.

The older woman paused thoughtfully, “I suppose that could have happened. But it’s time for sleep now, love.”

You woke up, groggily rubbing at your eyes.

You stumbled out of bed, eventually making your way into the kitchen to boil a kettle for tea. You rubbed mindlessly at your arm, thoughts half on your dream. 

It had been quite a while since you had dreams of your childhood. It had been a while since you heard that story, it was your favorite one as a child. You had nearly forgotten it.

‘The man who fell in love with the stars,’ you mused, blowing on your hot mug of tea.

How fitting.

—————

“Another dream?”

You nodded once. You were sitting in your kitchen across from Yaz, each of you sipping a cup of tea.

“This one safe?” Yaz did a poor job of hiding her smirk behind her cup.

You rolled your eyes in faux exasperation.

Yasmin laughed.

“This one wasn’t about the—” you caught yourself, “her.”

You had been avoiding mentioning her by name. It rubbed you the wrong way and you had no idea why. It probably had to due with that somewhere in your brain, you were still denying what had happened. Still hoping that she was going to take you back.

Yaz hesitated with your words, sitting up in curiosity, “Oh? What was it about then?” 

“You remember that story—the one I was obsessed with when we were little?” Your eyes nose scrunched slightly, wondering if Yaz would even remember something so insignificant from your childhood. “‘The man who fell in love with the stars’ I think it was called.”

Yasmin’s eyes lit up, recognition glinting in her chocolate irises, “Oh, yeah. I remember in primary that was your favorite story. You told me about that.” A grin pasted itself to Yaz’s lips, “You were always eager to talk about it—a man that falls in love with the stars. Our teacher was definitely thrown off when she asked what your favorite story was.”

You laughed.

“She was probably expecting some sort of fairytale, like Snow White or Cinderella.” Yaz batted her eyelids, making light mockery of how as a child you would always criticize classic fairytale princesses.

You snickered into your cup, “Little did she know she got the one child that was obsessed with Greek mythology and depressing stories.”

“The only versions of fairy tales you were interested in were the ones the brothers Grimm got a hold of first.” Yaz’s grin was wide across her face.

You rolled your eyes, “I wasn’t that bad. It’s just that they were too unrealistic.”

Yaz raised an eyebrow, “And a man on a mountain throwing lightning bolts isn’t?”

“I mean, at least they had personality. In princess stories, they just sat there until they were finally rescued. Nobody in those stories had any personality aside from the villains—who were just cartoonishly evil—least of all Mr. Prince Charming.” You shrugged.

Yaz snorted. “You aren’t wrong.”

You hummed softly into your cup, “If I had to choose anybody now that she was expecting, Aesop would have been my favorite.”

“Because there’s a point to the story?”

“Pretty much.”

There was a calm silence between the two of you.

“Was there something to that story you liked? Some sort of point?” Yaz leaned against the table.

A sigh deflated your chest, “Then? I think when I was a child I found the man’s love fascinating. Now I think it was a cautionary tale—or maybe just a flat out warning. Rather ironic.”

Yaz nodded, “To you, she’s the stars.”

You bit your lip.

She smiled softly, but there was something sad reflected back in her eyes, “You always loved the stars, and I think you were always going to fall for her. I mean, she literally fell from them after all.”

You sighed once again, leaning against the back of your chair, “I think part of it was that, even though I loved the stars as a child, I couldn't fathom actually declaring your love to them.” A humorless chuckle slipped past your lips.

“Then why were you so passionate about it? There must have been something. You always seemed optimistic when you talked about it even though it was a sad story.”

”I thought he was confessing his love to the wrong stars.”

Yasmin’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I think my argument was that since the sky was filled with stars, then he was confessing to the wrong ones. I thought that it was possible there was a star he wasn’t looking at that could have fallen for him.”

“A falling star?”

You paused. 

“What?”

“A star that would fall to earth to be with the man?” Yaz’s voice was somehow distant, like she was pulling something from a part of her mind she had buried, “By that logic, the man could never be one with the stars since he couldn’t rise to the heavens, so the stars would have to go to him.”

Your breath caught in your throat briefly before you managed to swallow thickly, “I suppose that must have been it,” you stated softly, eyes on Yaz filled with wondrous awe, “Where did you come up with that?”

Yaz seemed to snap back to the present entirely, a soft blush rising on her cheeks, “Ah, well maybe I thought about it a little bit.”

You quirked your head in confusion, “Why?”

Yaz shook her head.

“No, I really want to know.” Your eyes flicked across Yasmin’s face, searching, “Honestly, I was surprised you remembered something so small. I thought everybody else had forgotten about it.” 

Yaz deflated, giving in, “You were always so eager about the story, I wanted to understand it more.”

“But why?” You continued to push.

“You were my best friend. I thought that was the best way to get closer to you.”

Yaz’s eyes were averted, refusing to connect with yours. There was obviously something she was unwilling to tell you and you decided not to push it. She would tell you if it was important in her own time.

You had to remind yourself that Yaz wasn’t going to go anywhere. Yaz wasn’t going to disappear. Yaz wouldn’t do that.

Yaz had promised. 

—————

Fascination swam in your eyes as you gazed at the nebula in awe. You supported yourself against the door frame of the TARDIS, eyes roaming the swirling shapes of gas.

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

You jumped slightly as your head whipped around. Completely entranced by the sight, you did not notice the approaching footsteps that stopped short of your form. You caught sight of the Doctor standing right behind you.

“Yes.” You responded softly, turning back to the nebula.

You couldn’t believe you spent most of your life wishing to see the Orion Nebula in all its glory, and now, here you were, standing right in front of the fantastical swirl and folds of gas.

You didn’t need a telescope, you didn’t need the pictures off of NASA’s website, and you didn’t need to gaze longingly at the posters plastered to the walls of your room.

You sighed contently.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why did you want to see the Orion Nebula?”

You chuckled, “I suppose I’ve been obsessed with it for what feels like forever.”

The Doctor’s head quirked to the side, urging you to continue.

“I guess it’s falling in love with something unattainable. There’s a certain pull to chase something you know you can never reach.” You turn to her, “Like falling in love with someone you know will never return your feelings, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to get over them.”

The Doctor nodded.

You turned back to the colourful display of gasses, “The idea of falling in love with a star,” you bit your lip, mind spinning through the best way to articulate your thoughts, “Even if you know you can never have them, it’s still alluring.”

Your eyes are drawn to the twisting shapes made of red and green and blue.

“Then what about now?”

You tear your eyes away, brows furrowed in question, “What do you mean?”

“Are you still in love with the stars even though you can reach them now? Do you not find them boring?”

You shook your head, your gaze soft, laid back on the stars, “I think even just being able to touch them would never be enough to stop my love for them. They are so vast and forever changing. I don’t think I could ever fall out of love with the stars. They could never bore me.”

“Then what about me?”

Your eyebrows shot up, eyes wide as your head snapped up to look at the Time Lord.

The Doctor realized the implication of her word choice and quickly backpedaled. 

“I just meant, if I took you to see all the stars in the sky. Would you never get bored? Would you ever get bored of me?”

Would you stay by my side?

You looked up to the Doctor. She was facing you, her eyes focused intently on your face. You scanned her profile. The lights of the nebula danced across her skin, colours lit up the side of her face. You felt your breath hitch.

The alien’s chain earring glinted, reflecting the light of the stars.

It wasn’t as if you had never noticed her before. It was much more that you were obsessed with the stars that nothing made it past your filter other than that. Your focus on the stars so intent that your brain had pushed all fancies for anything else aside. 

With your breath caught in your throat, your mind let the Doctor in. Only the stars made it past your eyes, but—

Oh.

This woman was the stars.

And you were always in love with the stars.

You shot out of bed, chest heaving, eyes alert. You felt a droplet trickle down your neck. You wiped at your skin with a hand. Sweat clung to your palm. You glanced at the clock at your bedside; it was four sixteen in the morning. You groaned before falling back onto your pillow. 

Your eyes felt watery. You blamed your lack of sleep.

Tossing and turning, you eventually fell back into a fitful slumber.

You couldn’t help your dreams of the stars. 

And for the first time, you wished they would stop.

Tag List: @oster-hagen​, @creativefangirling123​, @wonders-of-the-multiverse​, @skittle479​, @actuallyanita​​

[yikeswtfmate]

Trouvaille

Trouvaille (n.) a valuable discovery, or a lucky find; something lovely discovered by chance

Summary: Bucky stumbles upon a dingy bar in Brooklyn, turning his world upside down.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: swearing

A/N: Super fluffy piece! I’m so excited about this, every second of it has been an absolute pleasure. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it!

masterlist

It’s another Wednesday night that Bucky spends in a seemingly random bar in Brooklyn. But nothing is random about this bar – although, granted, it was at first. Now, James Buchanan Barnes can be found in this bar once a week without fail (which in all honesty should be a miracle considering what his job is), whether it’s a Monday (when only a few sad men swallow their misery in tall glasses of beer), or a Thursday (his favourite, because at 10 o’clock on the dot the bartender plays that song that he used to love so much in another life), or a Saturday (which he hates the most because it’s crowded and he can’t really have a proper conversation). The bar is nothing much – the same floor that however many times it’s cleaned it’s still a little bit sticky, there’s the smell of stale booze that oozes out from the upholstery and the customers only give him a cursory glance when he walks in and takes his usual stool right at the farthest corner of the bar.

He discovered this bar one night when he was tired of wandering the streets of Brooklyn after a long day of restlessness. He couldn’t sit still in the Avengers Tower, and although he tried sparring with Nat, or playing poker with Sam and Tony, or even tried his hand at chess again with Steve, he just couldn’t stop feeling fidgety. So he just up and went for a stroll through the emptying streets until he ended up in Brooklyn. He noticed the neon sign above the door, one of the clover’s leaves flickering on and off in the darkness. He decided to take a seat when he heard the music – low notes of a song long forgotten dancing between whispers and shouts, the singer’s voice too sweet for the rough hands that were clutching their bottles.

He stayed for the most radiant laughter that filled his ears, folding over and around the song. He stayed for the bright eyes that met his when he asked for a beer of his own; for the smile that tugged at delicate lips; for the raised eyebrow that ascertained recognition. He normally would have pulled his baseball cap lower over his eyes, but he didn’t want to obstruct his view. He wanted to see her fully, to bask in the marvel that this woman in front of him was.

The first words she said to him were of mockery, laughing at his weak attempt at a disguise, and after six months of knowing her, he’s still surprised at how easy it is to be around her. How easy it is to banter, to make fun of the other, to always be able to cheer him up, regardless of how deep his rage might be, to not expect anything more than to just be.

Now it’s another night that Bucky spends at the dingy bar, watching Y/N pour shots for the hen party that’s taking place for whatever reason on a Wednesday. He’s been in a foul mood all evening, and she’s been trying to give him some space, but as she wipes her hands on a damp towel, she huffs and saunters over to him.

“Ok, big guy. Tell me what’s up with you today.” Y/N demands, but Bucky doesn’t answer at first. She leans down, trying to catch his eyes as he lowers his gaze towards the bottle he’s been nursing for an hour already. “You know I hate it when I can’t see your pretty smile, baby.” She tries again. “Come on, Sarge, I won’t be seeing you for another week after tonight, give me something to swoon over until next time.”

He finally smiles, even if for a fraction. He looks back up at her and she notices the dark circles under his eyes. She knows he doesn’t usually sleep well, but he seems even more exhausted than last week. There’s something bugging him that’s enough to keep him from flirting and laughing at her stupid jokes, as he would do.

“Penny for your thoughts?” She offers.

“How about a kiss, doll?” Which is definitely more than she could get out of him all night, but still not the full force of the charm that he normally displays.

“My, mister Barnes, you sure know how to bewitch a girl, don’t you?” There’s a pause in their conversation as she goes about serving a man in a suit that must’ve probably just gotten out of a huge fight with his partner, considering the distraught look.

“Come on, Buck. Tell me what’s up. I ain’t leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“You still have two more hours to work.” He points out.

“Which means I’m super dedicated to the cause if I’m willing to not lose my job by just walking out to prove a point.”

He sighs but at least offers her a small smile in return. Shaking his head, he takes a sip of his beer, knowing from experience that although she can give him space whenever he needs it, he always finds that he feels better after sharing his thoughts with her.

“Just been having a shitty week, that’s all, doll. The last mission was rather…challenging.” He says, memories of too many bodies scattered on a cold slaughterhouse floor in front of his eyes. There are not many things he’d shy away from telling her, but sometimes he feels the need to avoid giving her the grimy details.

Y/N nods in silence, and after a few seconds of watching him closely, she places her hand on top of his right one that was resting on the bar top. He moves his palm upwards in order to hold hers, lifting it towards his lips and placing a soft kiss on a knuckle. She squeezes his fingers for a second but doesn’t let go. He needs the contact, of that she is more than certain, and however much she’d like to deny her affection for him, this sullen man sneaked his way around her veins, slipped between the cracks of her ribs, and nestled himself in a corner of her heart, filling her lungs with sunshine and camellias without her even noticing.

“Well, I’d say beer is a good start to drown your sorrows in.” She notes, trying to make light, drawing him out of the dark place he likes to curl into.

She pulls back her hand, all the while Bucky wishing she’d just stay there in front of him, keeping her hand in his and just looking at each other.

“I can also offer you some salted peanuts as well.” She says, disappearing under the bar, throwing food and alcohol on the top as she keeps on talking. “Might find some pretzels as well, if only I can find where Cody keeps putting them under this goddamn – aha!” Another colourful bag surfaces and Bucky tries to catch it without smashing anything in his way. “Oh! I might even find his secret stash of chocolate if I look hard enough!” Her eyes appear over the countertop, a mischievous glint that Bucky enjoys but always treats with caution. “Would that make you feel better?”

“I’ve already told you that a kiss would be enough, baby.” He winks, already feeling some of the tension easing out of his muscles.

“Now, now, James. This is no way of treating a lady. What would the village say if I were to fall into your arms without you properly courting me?”

Bucky tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. She shifts under his gaze, but can admit that it melts her from inside out.

“Is that what you want, doll? A proper courtship?” His voice is low but even with music playing and patrons shouting around them, she feels as if he whispered those words into her ear. She shudders, making his lips slowly tug up at one end.

“Bucky, you’re supposed to tell me what you want so you can feel better.”

“I said I wanted a kiss, but you keep refusing me, baby.” A frown. “So I’ll just settle for walking you home tonight, what do you say?”

“Silly goose.” She laughs, although she’s only half listening to him as she is pouring a draught beer to a customer next to him. “You’ve been walking me home for the past three months, I don’t see how tonight would be any different.”

Bucky smiles softly when she sends him a wink distractedly. There are pauses in their conversation, sentences and questions scattered across two hours as the patrons of the bar order their last drinks and prepare to head home. Midnight comes and goes, and Bucky loses himself in memories of nights spent in the bar, just so he could be in her company, even if for only a few hours. Tonight’s the night, he decides, there have been too many silent queries in her eyes, too many touches that bordered on delicate caresses, too many smiles hiding secrets that could bloom into something else, something more that he so desperately has been longing for.

It was easier to not want more from life before he met her. He was content with just surviving from day to day, never asking for more, never believing he deserved more. The way he saw it, it should have been his atonement for the years of pain and suffering he had inflicted. Never knowing more than completing the missions he was sent on, eradicating as much as possible of the evil that existed in the world, trying to tip the scales at least a fraction before he’d have to finally rest, regardless of how soon that would come. Until Bucky met Y/N, which turned his world upside down. He found himself more careful, less inclined to charge head first into any situation that might bring him certain death. Now he had someone to come back to, someone who would bring him back from the dead just so she could give him a good scolding.

He's been more than careful not to let any of his friends near her, except for Natalia, of course. Y/N mentioned one time her thoughts on the Black Widow being the most amazing woman to ever grace the Earth, so he decided to surprise her one night. It wasn’t a tough choice to make, her ecstatic expression and her giddiness were enough to make him smile all night, although he had to give up her attention completely in favour of the redhead. After that, Nat would sometimes accompany him, having taken a liking to “Barnes’ cute bartender,” but neither of them would give any more to the others, much to their collective chagrin. But Bucky was relentless in refusing to subject her to their teasing and intensity, and he was grateful Nat respected his wish.

One night he asked her to dance with him in the middle of the dingy bar. It was the first time she played that song he loved so much, a soft melody that waved around their bodies as he shifted her closer and closer to him until she finally rested her head on his shoulder. He felt the sigh that escaped her lips and kissed the top of her head with his eyes closed.

Another night he came in bruised and battered after a particularly difficult mission, having escaped from the Med bay as soon as he was allowed, his first thought upon waking up being of her. The moment she saw him, she rounded the bar, inspecting him from head to toe and pinched his ear, which was probably the only part of him that wasn’t hurting at that moment. She shouted at him and cursed him, accusing him of being a “reckless wet sock,” all the while he was laughing at her reaction, even though the worry in her eyes made his heart expand like batter in the oven. That was the first time she made him promise he’ll stop putting himself in danger or she’ll never forgive him, a hand over his purple cheek, her thumb stroking over the tender skin. With a kiss to the inside of her wrist, he promised, having realised he would forever do anything she would ask of him.

While she is closing the bar, Bucky wonders yet again how would his life look like if he would just give up his duties as an Avenger, and follow his heart for once. He wonders whether that would be selfish, throwing away the possibilities unleashed by the serum flowing through his body, turning his back to the injustices of the world without a second thought, just so he could wake up with Y/N in his arms every morning.

“You’re thinking too much again and that only leads to trouble.” Her voice startles him from his musings, a poke to his ribs for good measure.

They start walking in silence for a few blocks, the city asleep around them. Y/N waits for him to speak, knowing from experience that it’s better to give him time until he’s ready to say whatever’s on his mind.

“Do you ever wish to…give everything up and start again?” He asks.

“I guess being a bartender isn’t anyone’s dream job.” She concedes. “I’d love to write more, but that won’t pay my bills. Giving everything up and starting again would just work in theory, wouldn’t it, though? There will always be a part of you that stays with you forever, no matter how much you try to hide it, so in my opinion it’s better to just accept it and move on.” A few more steps in silence. “You should stop blaming yourself, Buck. It wasn’t your fault. Accept it and move on. I’m not judging you for anything you’ve done while you were…you know. You’re here now and I love the person that you are now, so that’s all that matters to me.”

Bucky stops in his tracks, watching her in utter stupor. They’ve discussed what happened, but never at great lengths, because Bucky was too afraid he’ll repulse her into avoiding him. She’s never shared her thoughts on the matter, at least not this openly.

Y/N turns back when she notices he’s not in step with her anymore. She extends her arm, offering her hand and he takes it, interlacing their fingers together.

“You’re kind, and sweet, and funny, and although you’re a fucking idiot who has no sense of self-preservation, I care about you deeply, Buck. And it’s not just the fact that you’re the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met, even though it sure is a big plus to be this easy on the eye.” She laughs. “It’s breaking my heart to see you beating yourself up time and time again for something that is not your fault. I want you to see yourself through my eyes and realise that you deserve all the happiness in the world, and that you’re loved so much – ”

Y/N’s words die in her throat. Hands in her hair, pulling at heart strings, soft caresses of his tongue, the taste of beer, camellias bursting her chest open, arms around his neck, long strands of hair tickling her fingers, a sense of coming home, a sigh escaping lips, the tug of a smile, and foreheads pressed to each other, love weaving in and around their pulsing veins.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a while.” He admits.

“It took you too much for my liking.”

A whisper on his lips as Bucky kisses her again – more, forever, I promise.