#anyway i might turn this into a series over on ao3 but no promises

[muse-oleum]

Always & Forever

okay, hi, welcome, i'm really unsure about this because i've never written something quite so heavy or, in fact, anything Elejah at all so, um, be nice? pwease? and if you see typos, as always, no you didn't. this came about because i recently re-read two masterpieces of the Elejah variety: We Remain, by Anonymous Obssesser (@deathloveshischicagopizza on this platform, sure hope i got that right lmao) and She's Come Undone and Set Free, by @terapsina. and it got the brain juices flowing and the creative bugs going.

you can find me here on ao3. this has also been cross-posted over there.

WARNING: very brief discussion of non-con/rape (because Damon is a dick) but it's more implied than anything else.

as for my ElijahxOC fic readers (if there are any here) i swear to god i'm in the process of writing a new chapter, i promise.

Always and forever. 

Looking up at the intimidating walls of the infamous Abattoir, Elena kept those words close to her heart, like a talisman against the dangers she knew lurked inside. 

She wasn’t afraid of him. She never truly had been, aside from their first meeting, forever ago in that decrepit mansion in the middle of nowhere. But she was unsure about his brother, and the kingdom he ruled over. Even now, a mere hour after the sun had set, she could see vampires flitting in and out through the doorway, obviously on a mission for their evil hybrid overlord. 

Elena took a deep breath, calming her heart. She’d sworn to herself that she wouldn’t think of him in those terms anymore. They were long past that, they had to be, for her own sanity. Besides, the moral high ground was no longer hers to stand on. 

She took one step, then another, forcing her legs to move despite the fear. She knew she couldn’t stay the way she was, alone and scared. She knew who she could trust. 

She always had. 

Hyperaware as she was, she could feel everything. The stares on her as she made her way through a square courtyard, the back and forth glide of her purse against her hip, the smell of blood and bourbon—a scent she had come to associate with New Orleans—but most of all she felt the moment he saw her, as if ripples crashed against her chest in tiny little shockwaves. 

A vampire zoomed in front of her, fangs out, eyes flashing red, no doubt trying to intimidate her; that’s how vampiric hierarchy worked (another thing they had neglected to teach her). He didn’t know she had known far, far worse. 

She often wondered if the Salvatores knew the first thing about being vampires. She supposed she was lucky Rose had told her some things, the last time she was in town, such as how to act around older, stronger vampires before you inadvertently got your head swiped clean off your shoulders. Or else, she probably would have been long dead, again. 

Still, she submitted, as she had always done. She cast her eyes down, her jugular on clear display, and waited. The vampire, a dark-skinned man with wide eyes, immediately stood back, cocking his head slightly. Then he straightened, a telltale look of fear in his eyes. 

“I’d recommend not doing that again, Diego.”

His voice, soft and dangerous, just the way she remembered it. But the danger was never for her, not even when he’d cracked the earth open and abandoned her to his sister’s less than tender mercy in that underground cave he knew so well. 

Elijah Mikaelson was dangerous. 

To everyone else. 

“Elena.”

She fought to keep her eyes open. She couldn’t help it, she’d missed the sound of her name on his lips. The way he accented the word a little differently than everyone else, how even when he was stressed or angry, he’d always said her name with a little bit of wonder, an awestruck tone she couldn’t quite understand. She had always been special, she knew—to her parents, their little girl; to her brother, his only sibling; to her friends, the listening ear; to the brothers, for her face; and then, to him. She didn’t understand how she was special to him, but she was, she knew it. His tone of voice gave him away, every time, the soft lilting of the syllables, pronounced with care, each of them a caress that soothed some strange part of her brain.

“Elijah.”

She met his eyes, wider and darker than she remembered them. Actually, no, that wasn’t right, they had been even darker in Willoughby, when he’d kissed her. 

Not her. Katherine. 

She forced the thought away, she couldn’t afford to dwell on that now. She had other, bigger, problems only an Original brother could help her with. She almost thanked Klaus and his godforsaken curse for bringing him into her life, however inadvertently, because she wasn’t sure what she would have done without him now. 

Probably staked herself. 

“Can we—” she faltered a bit, eyeing the vampires listening in, trying to pretend they weren’t interested in what a baby vampire could have to say to the king of the city that would warrant even a moment of his time. Because he was the king, she had no doubt about that. Klaus may be the face, but Elijah was the hand behind it all. 

She swallowed, putting her blinders on, taking a deep breath. “Can we talk?”

He observed her, his head tilted to the side, a small frown on his brow. She could tell her demeanor alone puzzled him, but she wasn’t surprised. After all, the last time he’d seen her, she’d been on a rampage across the country, his little sister in tow, searching for a cure she obviously had not taken. He rallied quickly, turning halfway, gesturing to door behind him. It led to an indoor dining room area and she briefly panicked; It was too reminiscent of the boarding house. 

“Not—not here, hum… Would you mind…?” She turned back towards the lobby, the doors still wide open. 

He softened, his hands going back into his pockets. A clear message to her—an everyone else—that he meant no harm. She’d learned that particular tell of his long ago. 

“Of course.” 

She felt his hand at the small of her back as they walked outside into the evening air. She still felt slightly claustrophobic indoors, even in an open courtyard, the presence of a dozen vampiric eyes on her certainly not helping. It reminded her too much of the almost scientific fascination the brothers had when they were trying to force her back into a humanity she wasn’t certain she wanted anymore. 

And therein laid her problem. 

The switch was back on, she knew that; she could feel it, just as she herself simply… felt. But it wasn’t pushed back completely, there was a jam, a missing piece, a core memory she still couldn’t access. Part of her wondered if it was for her own good, the other part wanted to let everything back in and be done with it. As things stood now, she had only half the story behind her sudden emotion-free spree, and she knew there was more lurking behind that door. 

But she wasn’t sure how to access it on her own, and she needed the help on the only other vampire she could trust to do it right. 

This limbo state—on but not on; back to herself but not completely—made her incredibly vulnerable. She could feel the imbalance in her soul, as corny as that sounded, because she was missing something—something she needed in order to move on fully, to become herself again, even in this new skin. 

Caroline couldn’t help her, although she understood what the problem was and it was ironically her who had suggested the solution that had been staring her in the face all this time. She needed help from someone who had studied vampirism better than anyone else, and that person walked by her side now, silent as he let her gather her thoughts. She took a breath, let it out, relishing the fresh air. 

Well, as fresh as it could be in the Big Easy. 

“Where are we going?” She asked, her voice still too small for her liking. She wasn’t afraid of him, dammit! She was simply afraid of every other man. But she didn’t know how to let him know that, and she could tell he was worried. 

“What would you prefer?” He asked right back, ever the gentleman. 

She shrugged. “You know the city better than I do.”

He smiled. “There’s a bar not far that my siblings and I like to frequent on occasion. Unless you would prefer dinner?”

She shivered slightly, either to the thought of “dinner” or his voice, she wasn’t sure. 

“The bar will do.”

She wasn’t even surprised when he opened the door to Rousseau’s, she really should have known. He noticed her half-smile when they sat down, cocking an eyebrow in question. She shook her head, amused. 

“That’s the first bar I stopped at when I first arrived in the city.” Figures you’d do the same, but she didn’t say that. 

“Yes, it’s quite… quaint,” he replied, lips quirking up slightly, somehow managing not to make it sound like an insult, “it’s also where I first stopped by when I came back.”

Yeah, figures. 

“Did you know it, back in the day?” 

He shook his head, smiling a little more fully as a blonde bartender approached them. “Not very well, it was ran by a werewolf family my brother and I preferred to avoid dealing with whenever possible.”

“NOLA problems?”

“NOLA problems.”

The bartender, Camille, judging by her name tag, reached their table and Elena was surprised when Elijah engaged her in a short but clearly familiar conversation. Camille seemed equally surprised to find him here at this hour, seated with a woman. Clearly, it wasn’t a habit of his. She chose not to analyze how that made her feel. 

“What can I get you?” She asked with a friendly smile. She really was quite beautiful. 

Unsurprisingly, Elijah asked for bourbon. Elena stifled a laugh, asking her to make her whatever she fancied most. This time, it was Elijah’s turn to chuckle and Camille joined him, shaking her head. 

“Family habit, I see.”

Elena froze, eyes growing wide, but Elijah didn’t contradict her and Camille went on her merry way back to the bar, only throwing one furtive glance back. 

“Family habit?”

Elijah shook his head, rearranging his glass so it sat just so in front of him. She valiantly resisted the urge to push it back just to mess with him. 

“I may or may not have told her the exact same thing when I first met her. She’s become somewhat of a friend of ours since then.”

“She seems nice.”

He nodded, pensive again. She managed to hold eye contact for all of three seconds before looking back down at her hands, fiddling with the string of her purse. 

“Elena.”

She looked back up just as Camille brought them their drinks. Cautiously, she took a sip, surprised at the depth of flavors that exploded on her tongue. Her wonder must have shown  on her face because Camille laughed.

“I’ve learned a thing or two about making vampires drinks. I hope it’s to your taste?”

Elena shot her a look, taken aback, but Elijah simply smiled. 

“You can call me Cami, by the way. I hate my full name but Elijah still hasn’t fully internalized that yet.”

The man in question simply sniffed, the epitome of snobbishness, and Elena laughed. It wasn’t her laugh from before, but she had missed the sensation anyway. 

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you but I don’t think he ever will.”

Cami sighed dramatically, tucking her tray under her arm. 

“Yeah, I think I got that. Anyway, enjoy!” She gave them another smile and moved on to another table. 

With her gone, Elena was once again confronted by her own feelings, bubbling up to the surface. The drink helped, turning down the faucet of emotions a little, just so she could breathe without it hurting too much. She brought her hands on the table, lowering her drink, her index finger running in circles around the rim. 

“Elena?”

This time her name was a question, one she couldn’t hope to evade. She shouldn’t anyway, that’s why she was here in the first place but damn was it hard to force herself to look back up into his eyes. 

“What happened?”

He asked the question flat out, the frown returning. 

“How do you know anything happened?”

“Because I know that nothing would bring you within a hundred miles of my brother of your own free will.”

“I’m here of my own free will,” she said, too quickly. His frown deepened. 

“Is anyone here with you?”

She shook her head vehemently. “No, I came on my own.”

His eyebrows shot up right into his hairline and she supposed she couldn’t blame him. After all, when had the Salvatores ever let her do something on her own, much less when it involved him? 

“They…” she swallowed, “they don’t know I’m here. Nobody does.” She released a quiet laugh, but it sounded hollow. “I expect they’re all up in arms back home, wondering where I’ve gone.”

She looked back down at her drink, taking a sip. Her finger beat a restless rhythm against the glass. Slowly, Elijah reached over, giving her time to evade him if she wanted to, and brought his hand to cover hers. 

“Elena, sweetheart, what happened?”

The endearment flowed from his lips seemingly without his own accord, if the slight widening of his eyes was any indication. His jaw clicked shut, his eyes flickered back down to their hands, but he didn’t take it back.

Elena rather liked the way it sounded. 

She took a breath.

“You know my humanity was off a few weeks back, yes?”

Of course, he knew. She’d practically spat it in his face right before Katherine did a very Katherine thing and snapped her neck like a twig. Idiot. 

He just nodded silently. 

“Well, what I didn’t tell you back then was that I, hum… I—I was sired. To Damon. He—I… There was… a sire bond. Between us.” 

Elijah went deadly still, the motion of his thumb running across the back of her hand stilling. His eyes hardened impossibly, but she knew whatever it was that he was feeling, it wasn’t meant for her. Or rather, it wasn’t aimed at her. 

“You were sired,” he said flatly, tonelessly. 

And here was the Elijah she remembered from that mansion in the fields. 

“It was… a side effect, I just… I—” she faltered, her eyes dropping back to her hands. She tried to escape his grasp but he wouldn’t let her, resuming his caress. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, and the tension bled from his shoulders. 

“Did he know?”

No use disguising it. 

“Yes.”

The air became even more still. 

“He knew you were sired to him while the two of you were together?”

Elijah looked faintly sick, the tick in his jaw growing more intense. 

“Yes.”

Another deep breath, deeper than the last. She felt his hand twitch over hers, but the soothing motion of his thumb never stopped. 

“Did he attempt to free you, at least?” He asked. She shook her head. And then he asked the question she’d been dancing around for the past twenty minutes. “Did he demand you turn it off?”

Elena heard the unspoken question, the one she knew would tip it all over. But she couldn’t lie to him, she’d never been very good at it anyway. 

“Yes.”

Everything went quiet, the air became electric, like the calm before the storm, right before the first rumble of thunder could be heard and the first lightning strike the sky clean in half. Right now, Elijah’s eyes were that sky, dark and stormy, a rage so potent in them she was strangely fascinated by it. The muscle of his jaw tensed impossibly more and she worried he might crack it entirely. 

She had never seen him so angry. 

If not for the soft contact between their hands, she might have been a little scared. Just a little. Because she remembered those words and in that moment, there was perfect clarity. 

Always and forever. 

She was quite certain that, should she ask him to end her sire, to bring her his head, he would. Happily, gleefully and without a hint of regret. She wasn’t sure she herself would feel any, and wasn’t that a nasty little surprise. 

She should feel regret. She knew that even just bringing up the subject with him meant placing Damon (and by extension, Stefan) in the line of fire, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret anything. She’d waited so long to give voice to those feelings—the shame, the disgust, the loathing, the pain. She would not take them back now. 

“Say the word, lovely Elena, and he will suffer.”

It really shouldn’t have been even remotely attractive, the way he said it. But it was, and she let herself feel it. 

“I… I don’t know what I want.”

Elijah nodded, a tiny movement of his head, but full of understanding. She took a breath. One hard part was done, but there was still the larger question, looming in the back of her skull. She was more than a little worried, though. What she wanted to ask him—what she needed him to do… that would violate the terms of their friendship like never before. She didn’t want to ask it of him but she knew she needed to remember something else, and for the life of her she couldn’t remember what. But she knew it was important. Her brain was shielding her for a reason, but she—the Elena who had had her choices taken from her at every turn since her transformation—needed to know. 

Or else how could she hope to feel whole again? 

So, she straightened, automatically readying herself to launch into an x, y, z explanation of why that was the best choice—and why she was making it.

“There’s something else.”

Elijah tensed, she was surprised that she managed to notice it at all. 

“But we can’t do this here…” she chewed on her lip, eyes flickering between him and the other patrons in the bar. “Is there somewhere… somewhere more…” she gestured wordlessly, tired already.

But Elijah had never needed words to understand her, certainly not with the way he was watching her now. It was strangely reminiscent of a hawk, but it wasn’t discomforting. 

Maybe an owl. A wise, old owl trying to figure out the puzzle before him. Funnily, she had never before thought of herself as “puzzling” but judging by his look, she might have to reconsider. She was, in her honest opinion, an incredibly simple person: she loved her family and friends, was far too oblivious of things until it was too late, took her coffee ninety percent black, and never failed to help out when it was needed. 

But looking at herself in Elijah’s dark brown eyes the reflection she saw was not one of simplicity. 

“There is somewhere more discreet. I doubt anyone will be here at this hour.”

“Not even vampires?” She asked as he helped her out of her chair. 

He smirked. Elijah Mikaelson actually honest to god smirked at her.

“They know better.”

She laughed. 

❧

“A church? Seriously?”

Elijah made a show of ushering her in, suited up arm extended in invitation. 

“It’s not even Sunday.”

“Thankfully.”

In the silence of the church, Elena repressed a giggle with great difficulty. It was quieter than a tomb, inside. Although, she really wasn’t sure who had first come up with this particular phrase, but she’d love to hear their explanation because in her informed opinion, tombs were anything but quiet. There was always the whisper of the wind, the pitter-patter of bugs and rodents foraging in the cracked stones paving the way to the afterlife. 

Or maybe that was just her experience since she’d turned.

Huh.

She took in her surroundings. It was obvious that the place had sat deserted for a while but had just been opened up again. There were wood planks lined along the walls and several canvas sheets haphazardly thrown around on the pews. 

“Where are we?” She asked, taking in the smell of dust, wood and stone. 

Elijah’s footsteps echoed behind her. “St Anne’s Church. Our local priest seems to be out tonight.”

“You know the priest?”

He had been pagan, in his youth, right?

Elijah gave her his signature half-smile in response, dragging a finger through the dust that had settled on one the benches. “He’s Camille’s uncle.”

“Small world.”

“Welcome to New Orleans.”

Exhaling on a chuckle, Elena sat down on one of the benches, somewhere between the door and the altar, at the middle point of the nave. She didn’t know why but she didn’t feel good enough to sit at the front. Elijah took a seat next to her, their shoulders brushing together, his presence grounding her. On a whim, before she could think better of it, she grasped his hand, gripping perhaps a little too tightly. He didn’t complain, simply resuming his earlier soothing caresses on the back of hers. 

“I need to ask you something, Elijah.”

“You can ask anything of me, lovely Elena.”

He was sincere. She didn’t have to look at him to know that. 

“You probably won’t like it.” She warned.

He tilted his head in question; she heard the soft sound of his collar brushing against his jaw.

She took the plunge and braced herself for the ice cold rush of the water. 

“I need you to compel me.” 

❧

Whatever it was that Elijah had expected to hear, it certainly wasn’t that. 

His shoulders tensed on instinct, his lips parting on a soft gasp. Elena’s hand gripped his tighter, perhaps afraid he would let go.

He never could have, anyway. 

Her eyes flickered up to meet his, meeting the wide-eyed stare he couldn’t even begin to disguise. There was a pleading at the bottom of hers, pooling in the form of tears that gathered on her lashes before falling softly, tracing her cheeks with wet streaks. He fought against the urge to wipe them away. 

“I need you to help me remember something. There’s… I—” she took in a breath, exhaled, completely oblivious to the feeling that ignited in him when heard the words “need” and “you” in the same sentence, coming from her. She tried again. “There’s something… something I can’t place, a… a darkness that lingers at the edge of my mind when I try to think back on what happened.” 

He brought his hand up then, unable to face her tears and remain still. He caught a strand of her and brought it behind her ear, revealing more of her beautiful face. The wide doe eyes that met his could only belong to her. 

“What happened when?” He prompted, gently running his thumb back and forth along her jaw. 

She sighed, leaning into his touch. He marveled at being able to touch her so freely. 

“When I was still sired to Damon.” 

The way she bit out the words made his heart clench. There was indeed something in her eyes, a strange haunting of sorts. It darkened the edges of her eyes slightly, turning warm brown into dark chocolate. It would have been quite bewitching if not for her tears. 

Centuries of instinct suddenly woke up in his chest, growling as it shook itself awake, unfurling from a long sleep.

“I just… I need to make sure of something.” She rushed on, “I know that my brain is likely trying to protect me but—” she growled softly, tugging her hair back, “but I don’t want to be protected. I want to remember it all.” He brushed his thumb under her eyelid, catching a single tear, making her sigh again. She seemed to shrink, releasing his hand and drawing her arms around herself. He recognized it for the protection mechanism it was. 

The beast in his chest growled louder. 

“I feel like half myself and I don’t even know why. It’s exhausting.”

She looked back up at him, her beautiful eyes full of unshed tears that threatened to fall at any moment. He was powerless to resist. He knew then he would do whatever it was she asked of him if only to never have to see her cry again. 

“Tell me what you need me to do.”

The relief in her eyes was unmistakable. He realized with a start that she had expected him to argue with her. He pursued his lips, caressing her jaw again. These… children truly had worked a number on her. 

“I need you to compel me to remember it all. Tell me to remember everything that happened while I was under the influence of the sire bond.” She said in as determined a tone as he had ever heard from her. 

And so, he complied. 

Gently, he took her face in his hands, holding her tenderly, like she was made of porcelain. He supposed, in his hands, she always would be. And he compelled her, her pupils dilating as she took in his order, body growing first lax and then as taught as a bowstring. Her hand shot out to dig into his thigh and the feeling would have registered as painful if his attention hadn’t been fixed on the utter devastation on her face. 

She took a breath but it came out as a sob, a heart wrenching sound that tore him apart. 

“He… oh my god, he—” she looked up at him, wide-eyed, and he felt the beast in his heart bare its teeth, “he… he didn’t… oh god—oh god, no, I—I didn’t want to! I didn’t! Oh my god—” she whimpered, and he finally couldn’t take it anymore. 

Slowly, gently, he took her in his arms as she sobbed. She molded to him, her small hands gripping his shirt so tightly he was certain she would rip it off. She curled up, half in his lap, and buried her head against his neck, her tears soaking his collar. 

He was certain of only one thing as he gently rocked her against him, wincing as the scream she let out into his shoulder tore though his heart.

Damon Salvatore would die a slow, painful death for what he had done. 

❧

Elena wasn’t sure how long she cried in Elijah’s arms, only that he never once let her go. He was careful not to hold her too tightly, and she knew he had understood the magnitude of what she had just uncovered. 

Damon hadn’t stopped himself from sleeping with her while she was under the influence of the sire bond. He hadn’t tried to free her from it, once he’d known, and he’d carried on as things were and she, helpless to do anything but please him, had done exactly just that. 

But now, with the veil lifted, she knew in her heart that she hadn’t wanted to. It was too soon after Stefan, too early in her transition. The feelings of love had been heightened by her Turning and by the sire bond, turning into a deadly cocktail of dependence. If only she had known. 

She whimpered, a broken sob wrenching its way out of her—how many did she have left? It couldn’t be many, she was so very tired. 

Elijah’s arms tightened around her, his hand stroking her hair gently. She felt the ghost of his lips at the crown of her head, the touch doing more to calm her than anything had so far. 

She hadn’t wanted to sleep with Damon. But she had anyway, forced by the sire bond. 

And it should matter to her that he hadn’t known that. That he hadn’t known that she didn’t want him like that, not yet anyway, but it didn’t. It should matter that, technically, he had also been a victim of the sire bond, unable to stop it, but it didn’t. Because once he had known, he hadn’t taken steps to help her out of it and she wasn’t in a position to help herself. 

He got exactly what he wanted. 

A Katherine do-over. 

Elena barely registered the anger before she was flipping an entire bench over, throwing it against the walls of the church. There was a vicious feeling in her chest, clawing its way out and she lashed out again, ripping the legs off of the bench and breaking them in half, the wood splintering into her hands, drawing blood from cuts that healed almost immediately. 

Fury, that was the feeling. 

It was so unfamiliar that she was momentarily stunned by the sheer force of it. 

Her eyes flashed red, veins rippling on her cheeks and she flipped another bench on its head before collapsing on the floor, crying again. 

She had loved him. Had been on her way to falling in love with him. 

And he had betrayed her. 

She was so very tired. Tired of feeling, tired of remembering, tired of existing. The pain of that betrayal, the shame that came with it, added to the duller, less pronounced pain of his hand in shutting off that part of her that made her her protruded from her heart in sharp edges and she distantly wondered if that’s what being staked felt like. 

Until she felt Elijah’s arms around her once more. Effortlessly, he scooped her up into his arms, cradling her like she was something infinitely precious to him. She barely registered the blur of movements and the wind in her hair that indicated he was running. She was so bone tired that the comforting warmth of the blanket he draped over her before running a hand down the side of her face barely registered with her either. 

Through the haze of her tears, she saw his face, eyebrows drawn together in worry. He tucked the blanket a little higher under her chin and she managed to grasp onto the edges, burrowing under it. 

“Is there anything you need?” His voice was pained, a small crack the dead giveaway to the unbelievable fury she could feel rolling off him. 

She shook her head, sniffling. 

“Do you want me to call your friends? Caroline, perhaps?”

All she could do was shrug, entirely unsure about everything. Her world had just toppled over. But Elijah hadn’t. He was here, as stalwart as he had always been and there was at least an inkling of hope that lit up in her at that. 

She had been right. 

She was right to trust him. 

[covetyou]

stars and stripes

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: nipple play, novelty underwear, balls, anxiety, democracy, the pledge of allegiance, friendly brotherly contest, alcohol, prelude to oral sex (m! receiving) word count: 5k summary: Roles are reversed this Fourth of July when you surprise Joel with a little festive treat of your own.

A/N: happy 4th of July to folks in the US and happy general election day to my fellow UK pals! If you haven't exercised your right to vote yet, and you're registered, you have until 10pm BST tonight to get to your polling station - as long as you're in line by 10pm, you'll be able to vote. do dress up Joel proud, and go do a democracy.

I make absolutely no apologies for anything in this fic. not a single thing. especially not that thing. tis the season. happy ballidays, pals!

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As it turned out, Joel knew a guy who knew a guy who could fix your AC, and within two days your house was a safe haven from the burgeoning Texas summer.

Easy as that, apparently. Your desperate attempts to call around HVAC companies the week your AC busted seemed stupid now that it was all a matter of simply knowing a guy.

Not that it was all easy. Letting someone else into your house after everything that had gone on suddenly felt scary, and it took Joel promising you he'd dip from his own job for the afternoon to keep an eye on things for you to feel okay with any of it.

But, even that left an odd feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You'd told him to let himself in, though this time you'd given him a key, and that felt like something. For as many times as he'd broken in, and for as long as you'd left your house open and vulnerable - and, by extension, yourself - handing over your spare keys to Joel for the day felt more vulnerable than you'd ever felt with him wandering your house at unknown hours of the day and night.

It felt like something all over again when you handed them over to him the next week too - there was a jammed drawer he wanted to fix, and he said he could get in to see to it before work one day.

Even when you opened the door to him on the nights he didn't have Sarah - his daughter, you'd learned - it felt like something. Especially knowing that that spare key now sat attached to his own, jingling in his pocket each time he walked into your home, invited.

And the more somethings it felt like, the less you felt like figuring it out.

It continued the same way for weeks. Him moving back and forth the short distance between his home and yours, while you stayed safely cocooned in your own, cool, four walls.

Then, barely one month into this officially unofficial something that you were, it was finally time for you to make that short journey down the street to Joel's.

Being honest, the thought of it had terrified you, and you'd almost backed out multiple times.

Not because it was Joel, or Joel's house - at least, that's what you told yourself - but because a "the whole neighborhood is invited, bring snacks or beer" type of Fourth of July party wasn't the kind of way you'd envisioned your first time in Joel's home. You figured maybe it'd be dinner, or a movie, or a quick fuck against the stairs with Joel's balls trussed up in something. Normal things.

Not loud peopley things.

Still, you readjust your top once more, take the briefest of glances in the mirror, and head out the door anyway, nerves be damned. You can totally handle a Fourth of July BBQ at Joel's house.

You think you can all the way up to Joel's driveway, when the nerves come back with a vengeance and you stand there, feeling sick, listening to the sounds of people and music coming from the backyard.

You try to tell yourself it all makes sense. It's a new place, a place that should mean so much because it's his, but try as you might you can't fight back the panic rising as you think of the very many faces that are going to be in this new place too. Familiar faces, faces you'd seen most days as you went about your life down this street you called home, people you'd shared small talk with and said good morning to almost every day as you left for work.

Then there's this stupid outfit you're wearing. The you from weeks ago chose it the very same day you said yes to Joel's invitation, and the you of today didn't have the energy or inclination to think of anything else. Wear whatever, Joel had said, it's just a casual thing. So, you'd gone for casual.

Braless is casual, right?

Not that that was a specific choice, more a necessity. You'd chucked the third bra on the floor in a huff, cursing your shitty outfit choice and lack of bra to fit it, and instead decided to stick on some nipple pasties and be done with it.

All that's done now, and now here you are, still standing like an idiot in the driveway, closer to Joel's home than you have ever been, psyching yourself up to go inside.

With a deep breath of the dry Texas heat, you head for the open back gate, the soft sound of your shoes on the paving stones so loud in your ears as everything wooshes and fizzes in your head.

It's somehow both better and worse than your expectations.

You're immediately greeted by a sea of recognizable faces, the bottle of wine you forgot you were even holding whisked out of your hand and taken inside before you can even get your first round of hello's in. You don't have much of a chance to be nervous, or self conscious, or any of the things you'd worried about being in the days leading up to being here, because there's just so much of everything around you. Noises, smells, people.

Everything, except for Joel. You've not caught a single look at him since you got here - minutes ago - and you wonder if he's even here and not relaxing back at your place on the couch.

Then you see him. At least, you think it's him. His back is to you, locked into conversation so fierce he hasn't noticed the commotion about your entrance.

You think it's him, but you're also certain you don't know of anyone else who would dress head to toe in red, white, and blue candy stripes. The sight of it makes you forget your own outfit worries as a grin forms on your face, and that familiar rumbling of something in the pit of your stomach comes back all over again.

"Not eyein' the very slightly younger model, are you?" comes a gruff voice that has you twisting rapidly on the spot, the smile barely given chance to fall from your face when you spot the actual, real life Joel standing right there next to you, cold beer in hand.

In your own defence, real life Joel isn't dressed much better than the other Joel stood over the other side of the yard. He's probably dressed worse, actually. He's head to toe in stars, all the way from the novelty headband on his head to the flashing star lights clipped to his shoes. It's gaudy, and camp, and so perfectly Joel that the smile that dipped from your face for all of half a second is back, and you're grinning up at him, that feeling in your belly violently boiling away now that he's right there.

"Oh, him?" you say with a wave of your hand. "Nah. He's like a dollar store version of you."

"Really? I'll be sure to tell Tommy he's Dollar Store Joel from now on. He'll love that. Hey, Tommy!" he calls over the yard, before slipping his free hand behind your back. "C'mon. Let me introduce y'all."

He guides you over, hand never leaving the small of your back, touching you out here in front of all these people as if you are actually officially the kind of something that everyone should know about. And maybe you are.

But then, you're looking into familiar friendly eyes, so similar to the ones you've been staring into and dreaming of since Christmas, and watching this familiar strangers face light up so brightly you briefly wonder if his joy is misplaced until he's wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug.

"Shit, he weren't lying," says Tommy as he rocks on his feet with you in his arms before releasing and looking down at you. "You are real."

Before Joel can land a firm whack to Tommy's shoulder, Tommy's pulling you in for another hug, telling you how nice it is to finally meet you, because he's heard all about you, dropping in a few choice words about his asshole brother here and there as he chatters to you, and Joel, and even himself.

At some point, whether it's during the fourth hug or the eighteenth, you're not sure, Joel slips off to grab you a drink, leaving you with his bizarrely dressed brother.

"Ain't never seen him smile so much without Sarah around," he says, the moment Joel's out of earshot, giving you a nudge and another fond smile. "Y'know, I think he might like you."

"Mm, I think I might like him too."

Small talk with Tommy is easy - the man's a talker, if you ever met one. He's a charmer too, and if you met him in a bar you might think he'd be coming on to you with the way he so attentively talks to you, only directing his attention elsewhere for the briefest of moments.

"What's with the outfits?" you eventually ask, with a flick to his striped top hat. "Joel never said it was a dress up party."

"Oh it ain't, this is just a family tradition. Dad always used to dress up in dumb shit for the holidays, make us laugh, and it just sorta stuck. 'Course, added in some friendly competition over the years too, and then this," he says with a dramatic sweep down his body, "was born."

"Competition?"

"Mhm. Joel'll tell you, won't you brother?" Tommy says with a wink over your head before ducking sideways to raid the snack table.

"What am I s'posed to tell you?" he says, handing you your drink, letting his fingers linger near yours and stroke a trail of burning heat gently up your arm before falling back to his pocket.

"The competition."

"S'easy. Stars or stripes," Joel points to himself, decked out in stars and then to his brother where he stands loudly chatting to yet more guests in his candy stripes. "You gotta pick. Most votes, wins."

"I've got to pick?"

"'s the rules, darlin'."

"So you want me to pick between you, or some costumed guy I don't know - a practical stranger?" you say, with a glint in your eye, watching Joel's face drop in faux offence.

"You wouldn't."

"Don't underestimate me, Joel. I think you know exactly what I'm capable of."

Your eyes meet in a silent stalemate, the glint in your eye never leaving as Joel bites at his cheek to hold back a laugh. Tommy was right - you do like Joel, some days too much, and moments like right now, you think maybe it's reciprocated, and you like him just the right amount.

Poking him in the chest, finger pressed to the middle of one of the sea of stars decorating his body, you let yourself break first. "Stars, Joel. I pick stars."

With a roll of his eyes, and a kiss pressed lightning quick to the side of your head, Joel's hand winds back around your back.

"Thank fuck for that. Let's get you a votin' card so you can make that official."

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

As the evening draws on, you think you've talked to just about everyone in your street several times over, and then some. It also turns out that Joel and Tommy take their little competition very seriously, and always have, if your neighbors are to be believed.

By the time the votes have been counted and Joel in his star spangled outfit is declared the winner, Tommy has sunk to his knees, his hat toppled off in his despair as he hangs his head in shame.

You're still listening to them bicker as you sneak off to use the bathroom, their voices only disappearing when you've slid the patio door shut and taken your first official step into Joel's house.

"The headband swung it."

"The headband is Sarah's, and your massive skull is breakin' it..."

Even through the mess of the party, you can see that this place is distinctly Joel, with hints of a 10 year old girl dotted around the place. From the pictures on the wall to the cushions on the sofa - mostly a rich navy, but one soft pink nestled in with the blue - through to small ornamental carvings on a side table and the drawings stuck on the refrigerator.

You're looking at one - not a masterpiece by any means, but very decent attempt at a bluebonnet - when the pressure inside the house changes again with the slide of the door.

It's Joel, arms laden with bottles, and the headband flopping forward pathetically on his head. "You snuck off quick," he says, dumping the bottles onto the counter. "Get lost findin' the bathroom?"

"Distracted. Never had chance to sneak around your house looking at your shit before," you quip with a smile, trying to get comfortable with the very uncomfortable thing that brought you two together in the first place.

"Then shoes off. Lemme take you upstairs, give you a little tour, and you can use the bathroom up there. Probably in a better state than the one down here now anyway."

He holds your hand in his all the way up the stairs. That something rears its head again, igniting your palm where it meets his, your brain not registering a single word he says as he points to various doors before dragging you through one, into his bedroom.

His lips are on yours immediately - or yours are on his. You can't quite work out who started it, you just know that you're a tangle as your hands roam each other, biting and licking kisses into each others mouths. His hand finds your ass, and you're moaning as he presses you forward, into him, and the soft lump in his pants. You want to grind yourself against him, but the angle isn't right, and a nagging forgotten thing is worming through your brain when Joel pushes your bodies together once more.

Oh. Right. You remember now.

"Joel - mmph - Joel," you say with urgency through his kisses. He pulls back, searching your face with panic and a pinched brow. "I really gotta pee."

With a kiss to your forehead he lets you go, pushing you toward his ensuite. When you exit a few minutes later, he's exactly where you left him, stood with his hands in his pockets, looking sheepish as he possibly ever could.

"I'm glad you came," he says, looking at you and setting that something off roaring through your body again.

"Me too. I... I've had a nice time."

"Just wanted you to know I didn't invite you here just for, y'know," he says, with a gesture to his bed. "Didn't bring you in here for it either. Just, sorta missed you. Not used to not bein' alone with you. It's weird sharin' you."

You don't want to remind him you've barely left each others sides all night. You don't want to draw too much attention to the something, just in case you scare it away.

"Damn. Got nothing for me? Nothing at all?" you joke instead.

"Got nothin'. Nothin' planned anyway," he says with a look around the room, his eyes focussing briefly on a drawer before flicking back to you.

Really, you should be leaving space between you and Joel. Space for the something to flourish, space that is just enough to not magnetize your body to his, smashing yourselves together and turning the nothing into something. What you should do doesn't have the power to stop your feet from slowly pulling you toward him again though. And it doesn't stop you from putting both your hands on his chest when you finally reach him.

"No? Got no magic tricks up your sleeve? I was hoping for a wand or a rabbit or somethin', you do look like you ran away from the circus."

"I'll have you know this shirt is the finest polyester you can find at Party City."

"Mm, sounds sweaty."

"Like you wouldn't believe."

"So you're sweaty and gross, and you have nothing to wow me with? I'm starting to wonder why you invited me." Which is a lie. You know why, and so does he, and you're glad for it, even if it still frightens you to think about it too much. You suspect he knows an awful lot more about you than you've told him. He's perceptive like that.

"Maybe I'm retractin' your invite."

"You wouldn't."

"No?"

"What if I've got a little something for you instead, am I still invited now?"

Joel's eyes light up and soften all at once, turning so bright and sparkling you think he might cry. It's not exactly that you've never done anything for him in the ways he has for you. When he mentioned his favorite snack, you got some in the house for nights you spend watching a movie before devolving into fucking on the floor. You bought new lingerie, which only ever stayed on if it was too difficult to get out of, and once or twice he'd caught you wearing the heart shaped butt plug before leaping on you and pounding you into whatever surface was nearest, thumb pressing down on the base and making you see stars.

Still, for all you had done, you never swapped positions in the little game you'd been playing with each other for over seven months. Each time, he was the one who came to you with some silly thing or trick or toy to tease you with, and each time you loved it. You hoped he would love this too.

"You do?"

"Mhm," you say as you put some distance between the two of you again. Space to breath, space to move, space to let the something calm back down into the pit of your stomach and curl in on itself like a cat settling down to sleep.

Your let your fingers glide up your body, gently pulling your skirt for a moment before they coast up your belly and reach your shirt, flirting with the hem before curling around it and tugging, letting your tits jiggle behind the fabric.

With a final soft tug, you peel the fabric up your body, the swell of your breasts spilling out the bottom of your top.

"Holy shit, baby," he says, a whisper of a moan on his lips. His eyes have been glued to you, wide and curious, ever since you suggested you may have something for him. And now, they're darting from your chest to your face then back down, taking in the sight of your covered nipples.

You had made some choices earlier today, in your nervous state. Going braless was only one of them. The pasties too, were another. And then, there was the shape. You has flowers, hearts, circles, straight tape and, finally, stars. It was a no brainer when you'd rifled through the packet for two that matched that white stars were the perfect choice for today. It'd only really occured to you when Joel had worn his own stars, that you were perhaps better matched today than you thought, that maybe you could have your own little game with him for once.

"Told you I was all in on the stars."

"Damn right you are," he says as he approaches, his hands finding their place on your waist, itching to move upward. "They don't hurt?"

"They're just pasties, Joel. They're soft. Feel."

And fuck, does he feel. His hands cup you, gently squeezing the softest part of your breast before letting his thumbs dance across where the pucker of your nipple should be. The sensation is muted, infuriatingly muffled by the feel of the pasties covering you.

"S'good?"

"Imagine I stroked your dick over your pants. It's good but it's not the same."

"Damn," he curses, thumbs still gently rubbing over your nipples, watching them slowly come to life and prickling beneath the coverings. "They come off easy?"

"Like a bandaid."

"Shit."

And you just know what he's thinking, because you're thinking it too. There's no real way you can take them off right now and let Joel have his way with your nipples like you're both desperate for, even if time and the swathe of people downstairs wasn't an issue. You have nothing else to cover up with and the soft breeze combined with the cold drinks and the age of some of the guests here means it's probably not a good idea to go without them.

That doesn't stop Joel from kissing you again though, more restrained than he has any right to be with your tits in his hands. You know from his frustrated groan when you bite at his bottom lip that he's two seconds away from telling everyone the parties over, only to come back up here and continue with a party for just two.

To your surprises, he pulls your top back down. Not before kissing one breast, then the other, then back to the first. You know he wants to sink his face into them, but he doesn't let himself, and he rises from his crouch with a groan and pulls you out of the room.

"Don't show Tommy," Joel whispers to you as you make your way back down the stairs. "He'll say the contest was rigged."

"Damn, I was so hoping to show your brother my nipples."

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

Joel's eyes keep flicking to your chest for the rest of the night. More than once he drags you away inside, either upstairs or into the garage, just to ask you to show him one more time. If you weren't covered, your nipples would have been rubbed and pinched raw by his eager fingers by now, just as your lips were swollen by his eager mouth.

By the time it's all over, you're positively exhausted, propping yourself up on the arm of a chair and talking to Tommy as Joel waves off the last of the guests and closes the back gate.

You had barely left his side all night, and if anyone had anything to say about it, you hadn't heard it. Neither had Joel. And Tommy, a clever man when he wanted to be, hadn't made a single joke about it either. All in all, it was as much of a successful day than you could hope for, initial nerves aside.

Tommy, continuing to be a clever man, doesn't put up much of a fight when you offer to be the one to stay behind and help clear up. Of course, he's already gone around and collected most of the trash, and put the leftover food inside, but he relents at your insistence he head home - you do only live down the street after all.

Neither you or Joel get much further with the cleaning. Once trash bags are dumped in the garage and you've both washed up, his hands are back under your top, damp fingers cupping your breasts and pulling you back into him.

"Stay?" he asks, as if there was any other ending to this night, as if Tommy hadn't left precisely for this reason.

You barely agree by the time his mouth is latched onto your neck, drawing unrestrained moans out of you right there in the kitchen now that you're finally alone.

His hands, of course, find their way back up to your top, stroking over the edge of the pasties once more.

"You really like 'em, huh?" you ask as his thumb brushes the edge of one, starting to curl and pull the point of one of the stars.

"Like that we match. Feel like you picked 'em for me," he mumbles into your neck, releasing one breast and tucking his hand into the waistband of your skirt. "Like that I've had somethin' to think about, somethin' to play with, even with all these people here."

Fuck, if you haven't liked that too. Letting him play had been one of the highlights of your night so far. Being manhandled into the garage, giggling and pushing Joel as he clasped his hands together in a plea to please see your tits. The souvenir love bite you'd let him suck into your left breast after dragging you back upstairs for a second time. You'd spent half the night flipping between Joels hands and mouth on your tits, to being dragged back out to socialize. Your pussy had given up trying to regulate itself after the third session of Joel's teasing, and you'd spent the rest of the evening wet and waiting.

This is a fact he finds out now, as he slides his hand down over your mound to cup you over your panties. You both let out the same curse as he presses and wiggles his fingers back and forth over you, rubbing your clit over your underwear. You had hoped to peel the pasties off before you fucked him, giving him full access to your nipples for the first time tonight, but you don't think you're going to make it that far, not now his hand is pulling your panties aside, feeling for the slick wetness between your lips and dragging it up, up, up to swirl around your clit.

Not a second later you're scaling the stairs for what you know will be the final time that day, this time you dragging Joel as you both kick of your shoes and stumble up the steps. You already ache from all the standing, and if you have it your way, your legs are going to be shaking and trembling too much for the rest of the night to possibly be of use to you.

With his door pushed open, left wide now the house is empty, you pull yourself back into him, only for him to slip his still wet finger between your lips, letting you taste yourself before he captures your mouth, licking your taste from your own tongue.

Then, your hands find his chest, that ridiculous shirt, and pull at it, tugging the fabric taught to his body, eager to get it off and tumble into his sheets with him.

You were right about how sweaty he'd be under the shirt when you finally get your fingers on the buttons, working your way down until you can pull it off. He's shining underneath it, the dark hair of his body slicked down as you drag your hands up over his chest, to his shoulders and then down to his belt.

He suddenly stops you, pulling your hands away, pressing kiss after kiss to your mouth as he fumbles with the buckle. In a huff, after a few failed, distracted, attempts, he pushes you away and pulls off his belt before unzipping his pants.

Joel has barely tugged them down his legs when you're staring wide eyed, howling with laughter, staring directly at his cock. Only, this time, it stares back.

At least, the bald eagle on the front of his boxers does.

"What are those?"

"Nothin'," Joel says, covering himself and trying to tug his boxers over his erection with one hand still trying to pull off his pants. Grabbing his hands, you stop him, pleading as you tug them away from his crotch.

"Show me."

"Look, s'nothin. Just another stupid thing Tommy got me and I thought it'd be funny but..."

"Sure looks like you got somethin' there for me. All this time you were sayin nothin'. Don't tell me you're getting shy on me now. C'mon. Please."

You pout, trying desperately to get him to give in when you have an idea and you're tugging your top off over your head and throwing it to the side, brandishing your star covered nipples to him once more.

"Pretty please," you say with a small shimmy, and Joel's hand immediately falls away, coming up instead to cover his eyes with a sigh.

It's a sight to behold. Really, it is. The eagle is staring back at you once again, still bolstered by Joel's solid length and the heft of his balls behind it. What you hadn't noticed before is it's sitting on a canvas of United States flag, stars and stripes covering his thighs, his hips, his ass.

"Oh wow. Joel those are -" you cough out a laugh "- those are amazing."

He's rolling his eyes. You can hear it in his voice and see it in his posture. "Yeah, real funny, I know."

"No, I like them. Very festive. And y'know what," you say, cupping his cock right over the eagle print of his boxers as you clear your throat. "I pledge allegiance -"

"No, don't you d-"

"- to these balls -"

"Stop."

"- and the cock they sit under -"

"Oh my god," he says, fighting through a laugh, your fingers squeezing and massaging as you pledge yourself, whole heartedly, to the appendage in your hand.

" - one - uh, cock and balls? Is there even a collective word for cock and balls? - under Joel -"

"It's just gettin' worse."

"- definitely indivisible, no divisible balls here - "

"You're killin' me."

"- say it with me now - with liberty and justice for balls."

You try to keep a straight face as you finish. Really you do. But as Joel's whole body shakes and ripples, his balls jiggling in your hand as laughter wracks through him, you can't help but fall into him, letting yourself be propped up by him as you crumple in on yourself in delight.

"You callin' my balls Liberty and Justice now?" Joel finally says through a laugh.

You slide a finger up the leg of his boxers, pulling gently on them as you stare down at the flag adorning his ass and balls.

"Yep. You're Star Spangled Joel with your side kicks, Liberty and Justice."

You give his balls a little squeeze again as you name them.

"Now that you pledged your allegiance, you gonna keep yappin' or you gonna prove it?"

But it's too late, because you're already sinking to your knees, right there in his bedroom, a place you both know you're going to wake up in the morning, wrapped in each other as the sunlight peeks through the curtains.

"Just try to stop me."

taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

@youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123

@valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather

@stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr @joelsdagger

[buckyshoneybunny]

The White Wolf (Part 3)

Wolf/Alpha!Bucky + Wildlifephotographer!curvy!reader   

W.C- 1082 

Warnings- Almost smut, cursing.  18+!!

A/N- Thank you for all the love!! I made an AO3 account, the link is on my pinned post, still working on making a masterlist. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this series, I promise the next part will be the long-awaited smut lol.  Sorry it took so long. Anyway, hope you enjoy! P.S.- I have some juicy ideas for other stories I'm going to start outlining, I really hope you guys like them.

Taglist-   @blackbirdwitch22 @lesleurs @nelachu2423 @shadowzena43 @calwitch @laughterafter

Part 1 , Part 2, Part 4, Part 5 Masterlist Series Masterlist

Bucky couldn’t believe he found his mate. He’d been drinking the fresh lake water when he’d smelled the most delicious scent he’d ever smelled, granted he couldn’t smell much, only what helped him survive. Werewolf senses were weird. He’d heard the sound of a twig snapping, that’s when he saw you, he felt a rush of desire and heat go through him, causing him to growl and scare you.  

His response to that? Chase you, which ended with him getting a nasty cut on his leg. When you tripped and hit your head, he had dragged you to his cabin, thrown a blanket over you and went to his bedroom, laying on the big dog bed in the corner. 

He’d been so wrapped up in trying to get the stinging pain to go away he didn’t notice you’d woken up, and when you took care of his wound? He was done for. He snuggled close to you the whole time Steve was there, he could see the knowing look in Steve’s eyes. 

When you agreed to stay, to say he was over the moon was an understatement. He laid down close to the edge of the woods and had fallen asleep while he waited for you to get back.  

(Present) 

Bucky wakes up with a pounding head, his white fur coated with dirt. When he looks around, he sees he’s in a cage. He growls. Another wolf growls, Bucky turns his head to see a wild haired wolf, chipped teeth, and crazy eyes. Walker. 

The fuck is this? He growls. 

This is me claiming the forest for my pack, I see you have a beauty now, might have to check her out in person myself. Bucky could hear the smugness in Walker’s voice. 

You lay a hand on her and I’ll rip your fucking head off. He was seething. 

No need to be rude, James.  

Don’t start that shit with me, Walker, let me go. 

Hmm, no.  

You’ll regret this. 

I don’t think I will. With that Walker walks off, to where, Bucky doesn’t know or care. Walker must’ve forgotten what a feral alpha in rut is capable of, especially one trying to get back to his mate.  

With his head pounding he decides to take a nap, Walker must’ve hit him harder than he thought. A couple of hours later he’s roused from his nap by the sound of someone calling his name.  

“Bucky!” Steve whisper-yells for the hundredth time. Buck lifts his head and blinks.  

Steve? What are you doing here?  

“We’ve come to get you out,” Clint says. Bucky shakes his head.  

I may be an alpha, and all of us together may cause hell but there’s no way we’d get past them. I have a plan. The first day of my rut and last day in my wolf form is when I’ll be unstoppable and I’ll break out. No one would dare mess with me.  

Steve nods. “We’ll work on a plan to get a key, you sure this will work?” 

It'll work, I’m sure. How’s Y/N? Is she okay? 

“She’s fine, she’s with the girls.” Sam speaks up.  

Tell her to go to my cabin and wait for me, I want the whole place to smell like her. 

Steve nods and the boy's leave. The next time he sees Walker, he has a sparkle in his eye, he just hopes Walker doesn’t try anything on his babydoll, he’d kill him.  

The next couple of days are pure torture for Bucky, the memory of your scent and the early signs that his rut is starting soon drove him crazy. He couldn't wait until he could shift back and bury himself balls deep inside you, yes you may be a complete stranger, but you were his mate and he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with you. 

Once he’d fucked you, the wolf part of his brain calming down, he’d be able to properly talk about the future with you. But until then he needed to fuck you.  

Time seemed to go on forever, minutes felt like hours, hours felt like days, days-you get the point-until the moment finally arrived, turns out Steve didn’t need to get the key, Walker's dumbass was moving Bucky to a different spot at the perfect time. 

Bucky let his muscles relax, his pupils dilated, he let out the most bone chilling growl Walker had ever heard.  

Walker's eyes widen.  You little- 

See, any alpha is strong and powerful, but a feral alpha in rut? Wanting his mate? Is nearly unstoppable, the only person capable of controlling the feral alpha is their mate. Bucky pounced and his men followed. They effectively took down the wolves, establishing Bucky’s dominance, that he is not to be fucked with like this ever again.  

He ran as fast as he could all the way back to his cabin, he could smell Walker had been there, his blood boiled. When he entered the cabin, he was punched in the face with your scent. A shudder went through him. He followed the scent to where it was strongest and found you, in his bed, wearing his shirt.  

He growled. When he saw you wake up and see him, he shifted. Once the big, fluffy white wolf, now stood a 6’5, muscular man, nice golden tan, brown locks that framed his face perfectly, the same piercing blue eyes, and a shiny silver metal arm.  

You could see the scares that littered his left shoulder where metal met flesh, but it only served to make him even more beautiful. Last, but not least in the bit, standing proudly, at least nine inches, girth making him wider than what you could wrap your hand around, his cock red and throbbing.  

Bucky inhales deeply when he sees your pupils dilate, smelling your arousal. 

“God damn babydoll,” he mutters in a husky, lust filled voice. “You’re in my bed, wearing my shirt, smelling like a fucking dream?” He groans, cock twitching.  

He slowly crawls up your body, taking the shirt with him, leaving you in nothing but a flimsy pair of black panties that are thoroughly soaked through with your arousal.  

He brushes his lips against yours, but doesn’t kiss you yet. He drags his nose down the collum of your neck, through the valley of your breasts, pausing to nuzzle your, soft, pudgy stomach, He continues till he reaches your pussy, he takes a deep breath and moans. 

“You ready, babydoll?” 

[itsgodepi]

If I lose my mind | Ch. 9

Series summary: When you're buried under a mountain of problems and can’t seem to catch a break, it might feel like you need a complete reset. But did it really have to come with a one-way ticket to a new dimension? Surely, a little problem-solving would’ve done the trick. Or, one day you go to sleep as a normal person and the next you wake up as a Formula One driver. You've never been a fan but isn't it like, one of the most exclusive sports? Pairing: CL16, LH44, CS55, DR3 x fem!reader Chapter: Previous | Next Word Count: 2.7k Also on AO3

You recognize his laugh now. Not the one recorded by the nosy photographers or the overstepping interviewers, but the real one. The way he leans his head to the side and his eyes turn into beautiful crescent moons. Those low chuckles as well, so carefree and sweet, resounding in your head and bringing you back to the hundreds of videos saved in your camera roll, the ones you have been watching for nights on end since you found that phone. 

It is difficult to decipher if the goosebumps raising in your skin come from the happiness the mere sound induces inside you, or the fear of realizing how deep you have been dragged into this nightmare. 

After landing in Belgium, Daniel’s first instinct had been to send you a message, an invite out for dinner which he admitted was long overdue. Two months had already gone by since you fainted in Austria —or better said, the day you woke up surrounded by a whole Formula 1 team in an unknow place—, two months since he fought with Nick in the middle of the track and promised to ‘talk later’. Two months.  

Safe to say you were surprised enough to ignore the hundreds of messages higher on the chat. It’s better to take in this kind of news one by one. 

“My friend said the steak tartare was amazing, you should have a look at it” Daniel offers when you lower your eyes to the menu, skimming over the dishes as if that could help you ignore the tingling on your stomach  

Pursing your lips, you finally focus your gaze on the words written before you. “I don’t know if…” you begin to show your doubts about the raw dish, trying to locate it on the menu among the rest of unrecognizable food names. 

Daniel can see the exact second you find it.  

“Don’t you dare look at the price,” the driver threatens when your eyes widen at the quantity, eyebrows furrowed as you wonder if the meat is wrapped in gold or something “You’re not paying again, I’m telling you!” 

“What do you mean again?” you ask through a chuckle, scanning the rest of the menu for a more reasonable option. After all, it is always Daniel who passes you gummies and other unhealthy treats under Nick’s nose when you are on the track, and not the other way around. It would have been impossible anyway, it’s only recently that you have acquired some form of payment. 

Daniel calls for the waiter after a shake of his head, a smirk falling of his lips “Yeah, sure, I’ll let you play dumb now... gave them my card already, so no use in sneaking to the bathroom and paying behind my back” 

To be fair, although you doubt you could have invited Daniel to more than a sip of coffee in the short time you’ve know him —you absolutely do not have the kind of money needed to invite a Formula One driver out, that’s become obvious, those kinds of antics do ring a bell or two.  

After all, you may have picked them up from the best at that type of tricks: your father.  

On your time away from home, you have found yourself holding onto the little pieces of your family which have so easily become a part of your personality over the years. Your father’s silent gestures of love, your mother’s caring nature, and honestly, being unable to talk to them had taken a toll on you. Probably, that is why you had melt into a poodle of tears when you heard your dad’s voice on the phone. 

“¿A ti te parece normal estar dos meses sin llamar a tus padres? (Does it seem normal to you to go two months without calling your parents?) "

Even hearing his scoldings felt like the most precious moment of your life. 

Charles had come crashing into the room as soon as he heard your cries, kneeling beside you on the floor thinking you might have hurt yourself with how fast you had run away to your room. His concerned look rapidly turning into one of confusion when you firmly held his hand and whispered between sobs “It’s my dad!” 

The discovery of this new device had not only opened a channel of communication with your family, which had both been a blessing and a curse, but also brough an infinity of unanswered questions. Although the first few minutes of your conversation had been centered around your mother’s question about your wellbeing and if you had been eating well, it had not taken long until that precious moment was broken. After checking that you had been doing alright and apologizing for not talking to them, your father could not hold it any longer and started gushing about the amazing few races you had had before the break. 

A reality check so sudden that it takes your breath away. 

Their happiness and eagerness to congratulate you on the highest place of your career, managed to sober you up completely. You heart sinking with every compliment they threw at you, their desire to see you climb up in the sport, to see you win one day. “It will come” your mother says, as if any of this was real. As if they were real.  

When you finally found your voice again, you had cut the conversation short with promises to call them soon —even if the mere thought of it made you nauseous. 

This encounter only renewed your desire to break free from what had become you own personal prison, and that device was a new key for your escape. While the phone you had been carrying since the start of this journey only had a couple numbers from the team members saved on it, this one was filled to the brim with messages, photos,... a whole life encased in such a small object. Your life? 

And somehow a main character in a large part of them was the man in front of you. 

“You sure you don’t want to taste it?” Daniel queries with a half-smile, having clearly caught the way your eyes followed the delicious looking cake as the waiter placed it on the table 

The colors rise to your cheeks in shyness, looking to the side while you jokingly sigh “Daniel, I won’t fit in the car if I keep eating...” 

“You’ll drive mine then” he quickly resolves, taking a huge piece of the treat and offering the spoon to you. Honestly, you had swapped the list of amazingly sounding desserts for a simple tea because you felt too full to even think of eating anything else, but a spoonful of cake can’t hurt, right? “Have to wear the McLaren suit though” 

Although you do it unconsciously, the look you give Daniel over the mouthful of cake, tells him everything he needs to know regarding your opinion on the bright orange race suit. The driver lets out a loud laugh, putting on his disbelieving facade as if that hadn’t been his intention in the first place. 

“So nice hearing you criticize my team’s color, really, I don’t know why we stopped having lunch together. Yeah, not a clue...” Daniel scoffs, digging into his plate to drown his fabricated sorrows. So dramatic. 

“I didn’t even talk!” you quip back to his amusement, just now having managed to get through the enormous bite of cake. Daniel only response is a disapproving shake of his head, and you let him have this one as you stir your tea. You are more interested in the second part of his grumbles “Why did we stop though?” 

“Don’t know... I guess with the whole start of the season, new team and everything” Daniel relays with a frown, gesturing to the air as if to explain that life had gotten in between what seemed to be a tradition the two of you had. “And also, that fucking diet...” the driver snickers with a roll of his eyes, having thrown that last jab as joke to lighten up the mood after such serious turn of the conversation.  

However, a soon as your eyes meet, he knows it’s been a misstep —even if it is just a coincidence that what he thinks is your how dare you say that? look is more of a what diet are you talking about? Look. 

“Sorry, ‘shouldn't have said that” Daniel apologizes straight away, leaning back into his seat with a sigh and the last piece of the cake. The time it takes him to munch on the treat is enough for him to debate whether or not he should make his opinion on such an important cmatter. Finally, he opts for a more conservative approach “It’s just... you already know what I think about it. Nick too” 

The mention of your Formula One trainer’s name makes all the alarms go off in your head, more so when the last time you saw them together, they were having a pretty heated conversation in the middle of a Grand Prix “Is that why you fought with Nick?”  

You try to appear outwardly calm about the situation, swirling what’s left of your tea as if your hands weren’t trembling in anticipation. This is it, at last, some real information. Not some meaningless clues which do nothing but mess with your poorly constructed theories.  

Your grandmother’s necklace burns against your chest, the feeling grounding you against all the thoughts brimming on your head. After all, the piece of jewelry is still the only fragment of an ever-distant reality, one you have kept safe and close to your heart ever since you found. You rest your hand over the pendant, sensing the heat even through the fabric of your blouse, as you wait for the response. 

He brushes a hand over his curls, looking everywhere but at you. “Yeah, kind of... I mean,” he accepts, clicking his tongue and taking in a big breath, as if he couldn’t bring himself to say it plain and clear. Daniel takes a second to reorganize his thoughts, straightening up in his chair and leaning his arms over the table in deep thought. However, when you think he’s managed to make up his mind and talk, the only words that come out his lips are “Look, we shouldn't talk about this now” 

A frown instantly forms on your expression at the premise, jaw set as you prepare yourself to most likely yell at Daniel everything that’s been on your mind thorough your time trapped here —whatever here means. You were finally going to clear one of the millions of unknowns surrounding this dream or whatever this is, and the man has the audacity to want to leave this incredibly important conversation for later. Oh, hell no. 

“No, listen” Daniel tries to settle your worries, having perfectly recognized the signs of what was about to come for him, from the slight closing of you hand over the table to the uncredulous grin lightly lifting the side of your lips “We’ll talk in the ride back to the track. C’mon, I’ll drive you” 

The soft sound of the radio fills the silence on the way out of the parking, a ballad which does absolutely not fit the speed at what your mind is running. Daniel can probably feel the weight of your stare, trying to let him have some space since it seems to be a sensitive topic for him, but so eager to learn what transpired between the two of them.   

The driver decides to preface his explanation with a “Don't get mad at me, okay?”, a strained smile pulling at his lips. For starters, that sentence does sound familiar. “I know I should stay out of it, and I think... well, no, I know! I know you’ve been really stressed out lately, that everything’s different now and all of that. I mean, they won't shut up about the fucking ‘second year in F1’ or whatever”  

Daniel tries to check your reaction out of the corner of his eye, his thoughts, although disorganized, always careful of your feelings. Yet, you can only regard him with a confused look.  

“What I’m trying to say is... I think you’ve been pushing yourself too hard” the driver lets out, the words flowing out of him like they have been weighting him for too long. His urge to explain his intentions straight away, showing how much of a push back he was expecting from your part "Again, I’m not trying to start an argument, I’m just worried about you! I’ve seen you training, seen that diet... this is not good for you”  

You’ve kept your eyes in the road in front thorough the conversation, taking in how concerned he has been about you. You had never seen this side of Daniel, he has always seen friendly and eager to help whenever you needed, but nothing had ever seen this deep. Still, you don’t understand what any of this has to do with his fight with Nick. 

“I understand that...” you acknowledge his worries, making a mental note to check everything he said later. In the time you had spent following this professional motorsport driver schedule, none of it had seemed as harsh to you as he had mentioned. Maybe something changed? Why though? “So, Nick and you talked about that? Is that it?” 

“Well, yes, Nick and I kind of had a... disagreement, yeah, we can call it that. About this new training plan you had going on. We had already talked about it like, back in Canada, and obviously nothing came out of it. But after Austria...” Daniel lets a second go while he enters the road, a harder grip on the steering wheel than needed. “Listen, I know we haven’t talked about it at all, I don’t know if you and Nick did?” 

You almost want to laugh at the supposition, your trainer had shut down any attempts of talking about it the day after the incident, so you had eventually given up “No, nothing” 

“I didn’t want to pressure you into talking about it but... We got really scared that day. I went to celebrate your qualy and, suddenly, you started panicking and freaking out! I didn’t know what to do, and then you fell unconscious. Do you remember any of it?” the driver wonders, his voice showcasing the whirlwind of emotions he went through despite the fact that he might be giving you a diluted version of what went down. You can only nod at him, the memories fresh on your mind “When they took you to the hospital, I thought, they for sure won’t let her race tomorrow, right? And then I see you on the track, all dressed up again, I couldn’t believe it...”  

“Didn’t Nick say he sent you a text?” you try to fill in, fingers fiddling with your own phone. Two months might have passed, but the images of that day keep replaying in your mind every single night. 

Daniel clicks his tongue in disbelief, eyes still focused on the road “Yes, he sent me two fucking lines saying the doctor discharged you, that you were fine and that’s literally it. You can take my phone and see it for yourself! I kept blowing up his phone but that’s the only thing he would say: exhaustion, she’s alright” 

That would explain the way Daniel approached you in Austria, how furious he had been with Nick after the secrecy with which the incident had been treated. The first thing he asked you that day was if you were alright, after the pre-race activities had finished and as away from the public as he could knowing you were in the middle of a Grand Prix. That is why he pounced at Nick when he mentioned the exhaustion diagnosis, fed up with the discourse. The distrust he had in your trainer’s statement clear in his words.  

Yet another thread to be pulled. 

Next Chapter

Author's note: Hey, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. It's been a while! My masters is clearly kicking my ass and I didn't have a single second to write, but here it is. Thank you all so much for reading, any kind of interaction is greatly appreciated!

Taglist: @purplephantomwolf @raye2000 @yuiiimd @drezzerk33 @leclercdream @homie0sapien @minkyungseokie @carlossainzwho @rewmuslupin @kyuupidwrites @raevyng @lazybot @gills-lounge @hiraethrhapsody @jjkclub @darleneslane @therealcap @aespie

[farfromstrange]

Do No Harm

CHAPTER SEVEN: Downward Spiral

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: After agreeing to go on a date with Matt, you start realizing the weight of your decision, and your thoughts begin spiraling. In a moment of need, you turn to the only close friend you have in Hell's Kitchen, hoping she can pull you away from the edge of the very steep cliff your trauma is trying to throw you into.

Warnings for this chapter: ANGST (the caps feel appropriate here), mentions of domestic violence, suicidal thoughts, allusions to a suicide attempt, allusions to sexual assault, mentions of being taken advantage of by a superior, (I guess you could say) mentions of hypersexuality, self-loathing, PTSD, some foreshadowing, mental breakdown, alcohol, Season 1 related plot (spoilers)

Word Count: 6.4k

A/n: Surprise! I'm posting early because I'm going to see my family this weekend, and after I had an epiphany at two in the morning and spent 3 days writing this, I got it done, and I'm actually quite proud of this (or maybe it's the caffeine). Anyway, heed the warnings because the topics of conversation in this are pretty dark. That's why I highlighted the angst. And if you haven't watched past episode 1 of Season 1, this might spoil some things for you. (Also, I have no idea how this turned into a beast with a word count over 6k. Sorry in advance.)

Read Chapter 7: Downward Spiral here on AO3

You don’t know what came over you.

You typed in Matt’s number in a moment of weakness, and once you heard his voice through the line, you gave up on being careful. You gave up on denying yourself what you’re so desperately craving, and you abandoned all rational thought.

For him.

You promised not to get attached to someone ever again—let alone a man. You started a new life in Hell’s Kitchen to find your way back to normalcy. You took all the necessary precautions, and even though you look back at the shreds of your old life every day, you are never going back.

Two years. That is the longest you have managed to stay in one place ever since you left California. But you still haven’t found your way back into the real world.

You have been guarding yourself, afraid of having your heart broken, afraid of losing this chance at a new life, and afraid of the man who ruined you. 

Every time you close your eyes, you see his face. You hear his voice in the back of your mind. He’s everywhere, even when you don’t want him to be. 

It’s easier to put a wall between yourself and everyone else. A wall no one can break through, not even yourself. You trapped your soul for the sole purpose of keeping yourself alive after you made the hardest decision of your life. When you ran, you believed your life was over, but you have always been too much of a coward to end your misery. God knows you’ve tried, but even a trained doctor can’t fully understand death, and some things just don’t work out the way we want them to. 

Drunken one-night stands can’t possibly compare to a meaningful emotional connection, but they satisfy the need for physical intimacy. At least for a little while. It killed you; slowly, almost pathetically, but sleeping with strangers in dirty motel rooms did a better job than you ever could. 

For the longest time, you used sex as a coping mechanism. You let strange men use you because that is the only way you know how to be with someone else. You let them hurt you to feel something, anything because pain is better than feeling nothing at all. But when you finally got settled in Hell’s Kitchen, thanks to Claire, you stopped. 

You locked up your heart and threw away the key. You started to shield your body the same way you have shielded your soul. You retreated into a shell of restlessness and constant fear of every little sliver of hope you feel being taken away from you. 

You have nowhere else to run, which is why keeping a low profile is so important to you, but after two years, don’t you deserve to finally live? 

We don’t exist to just survive; we exist to live the life we were given. You are Olivia Clarke now, not the broken girl you left behind, but every time you think about it, his voice returns and backs you into a corner that you can’t escape from. 

Every time you see the scars on your body, all you want to do is rip the skin off your bones and feed it to the dogs. 

The men you slept with while you were running from your past saw you as a mere object, and you are used to being seen that way, but it was isolating nonetheless. They didn’t care about your scars, they only cared about what you could give them. They treated you like he did without lifting a finger. 

Even though you don’t do that anymore, it still weighs heavy on your wounded soul. 

Matt treats you like a person. He can’t physically see, but he still sees you. He sees you in a way no one has ever seen you before. And he is gentle, and patient, and—

You scream into your pillow. Your nose still hurts, but it is nothing compared to how fast your heart is beating. 

To you, Matt is perfect. You know that no one can be perfect, and you should be careful, but he makes you feel things you have long denied yourself. He makes you feel wanted. Desired. Like you can be yourself around him and still be worthy of his attention. Like you matter. And he has a certain way of being around you that makes you feel protected, almost. 

You don’t need protection. You have made it this far without a bodyguard by your side. You know how to fight your own battles better than most, but you can’t deny that you wouldn’t mind being saved by him. 

You wouldn’t mind those hands he always wraps around his cane to wrap around you instead. He can’t see your scars, but he can feel them, and as terrifying as that thought sounds, it also excites you. 

You’re treading dangerous territory, but God, he won’t leave you alone, not even when you’re trying to sleep. He could offer you a sense of normal that you have long missed. He could teach you how to be a person again. And maybe, just maybe, you could let yourself be cared for by him. 

You roll back onto your back when you need to breathe, one of your hairs getting stuck to your lip. You let out an annoyed huff. There won’t be much sleeping tonight, you’re sure. Not when you keep thinking about tomorrow.

“You’re not fifteen anymore,” you mutter to yourself. “What is wrong with you? God!”

It’s almost too surreal to believe that this magnetic force of a man managed to retrieve some of your long-lost hope, and he only had to call you beautiful once for you to be completely smitten. 

When he allowed you to take care of his injuries on the first day you met, you didn’t think a person could be this guarded yet so vulnerable at the same time. He’s breaking under an invisible weight that must have been on his shoulders for years, maybe even decades. You’re painfully aware of other people’s feelings, and it wasn’t hard to tell that Matt carries a lot of unresolved pain with him. Always. He reminds you so much of yourself, it’s like staring into a mirror. Two broken halves of a whole. 

Your thoughts won’t stand still, no matter how hard you try. You’re stuck inside an invisible hourglass. Not even heaven knows what will happen once time runs out. You don’t understand why you’re overthinking this while, at the same time, knowing exactly why. And you hate it. 

There is a part of you that you can never get back. A little girl who grew up too fast. A girl who didn’t know any better. A broken teenager who wanted nothing more than to escape and live a better life than her parents could ever give her, and when she did manage to escape one hell, she found herself in a new quarter of purgatory built just for you.

You used to think that maybe you just bring the worst out in people, but after seeing the worst of humanity outside of your broken relationships, too, you’re not so sure about that anymore.

The fact that you don’t understand why you can’t stop your usually so intelligent brain from spinning out of control makes you want to claw at the walls of your apartment that threaten to cave in on you.

Part of you wants nothing more than to run and never look back, but you can’t run forever. This time, you wouldn’t be running from the Devil; you would be running from a fear of your own feelings. Human feelings. Feelings that have a high likelihood of recurring, and then you will have to run again. 

You can’t run from reality forever. It’s a different reality now, but it’s a better reality. That is a rational thought, but being rational currently has no place in your mind, so you’re spiraling, and all because a nice guy asked you out for coffee. 

You find yourself in a cab a few minutes later, wearing a pair of sweatpants, and an oversized shirt, with an untouched bottle of wine in your bag. Your worn-down sneakers are not the appropriate footwear for today’s weather, but you couldn’t be bothered to pick another pair. 

You’re aware that it’s late and maybe you should have texted, but you’re already here, and Claire told you that you could always come to her, even if it happens to be the middle of the night. If the rule still stands after she suddenly decided to stay at your co-worker’s place without a proper explanation, you’re not quite sure though. 

You knock. At first, no response. You knock again. The floorboards creak on the other side of the door. 

“Claire, it’s Liv,” you call out.

You can hear the exact moment the person inside the apartment starts to panic. The floorboards creak again, more frequent this time, and it sounds almost as if Claire is turning the room upside down. You raise your eyebrows. 

Before you can knock again, the lock finally clicks, and she opens the door. She’s more of a mess than you are, and that is put lightly.

“It’s the middle of the night,” Claire greets you. “What are you doing here?”

You blink a few times. “Hello to you too?”

She sighs. “I didn’t mean—I’m sorry, it’s just been a long night.”

“I can see that,” you answer. “Are you alright?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” She looks you up and down. “What happened to your nose?”

“It’s a long story.”

“No shit.”

“Yeah. Can I, uh, come in?”

She hesitates before stepping aside to let you in. “Sure.”

You take a quick look around the apartment. Nothing seems out of place. A bowl of cat food stands in the corner by the kitchen. The window in the living room is open, but it seems intentional. 

The scent of antiseptic lingers in the air. You’re not sure if your nose is betraying you as you breathe in, but the smell is familiar. Bandages, disinfectant, and salve. You don’t want to question it, but you can’t help it. 

“Did you hurt yourself?” you ask. 

Claire blows her nose behind you. If you didn’t know better, you would think she was actually sick. She shakes her head upon hearing your question, but there is a faint blush on her cheeks. 

“What makes you think that?” she retorts. 

“Oh, no particular reason. It just smells very… hospital-y. That’s why I asked.”

“I, uh, I had to put a bandage on my leg earlier ‘cause this stupid cat decided to scratch me after peeing everywhere.” She sniffs. “Had to clean the wound, that thing—“ she nods toward the cat sitting in the cat tree, “and then the apartment. Maybe that’s why.” 

You follow her gaze toward the little furball resting on his cat tree. You approach him, but Claire seems less pleased at the prospect. 

“Be careful. He’s pissed.”

“At you,” you correct her. “Also, you’re having an allergic reaction, and—if he really, honest-to-God scratched you—very probably an infection. Why are you even staying here?”

Your voice rises in pitch when you reach the sleeping cat. “Hello, you.” You stroke his fur. He only opens one eye to sniff you, but once he recognizes you, he starts purring. For a moment, you forget the reason why you even came here. 

Claire exhales loudly. She scratches her neck, her skin threatening to break out into hives. “It’s a long story,” she says. 

You glare at her over your shoulder, your hand still stroking up and down the cat’s back as he settles back into a deep sleep. “I’m worried about you."

“That’s sweet of you, but I’m fine.”

“You called out of work and told Shelly you were sick.” You straighten up and turn back to face her. “You’re not sick, Claire.”

She sniffs as if to prove her point.

“Your immune system is overreacting by producing Immunoglobulin E. The antibodies are traveling to the cells responsible for releasing chemicals into your body, causing you to get a stuffy nose and break out into hives. You’re not sick. You’re allergic to cats and sharing an apartment with one. There’s a big difference,” you state. “Look, I know it’s none of my business, but you have to admit that, from where I’m standing, your behavior looks a little suspicious.”

“I’m going through some shit, alright?” she says. “And it’s a lot easier to deal with them here than back at my place. That’s why I called in sick.”

You don’t know what to make of her answer. It’s vague. You don’t like vague answers because they often indicate a bigger problem. It is one thing for you to deal with your demons on your own and refuse to talk about it with your best friend; it’s another thing entirely to keep a dangerous truth from the person you’re closest with, one that could potentially lead to worse consequences. If Claire were a naturally secretive person, maybe you would understand, but she isn’t like that. She isn’t you. 

She’s the only person who knows your entire story. She saved your life. You can’t imagine her keeping secrets from you that might end up hurting her. 

You dare to ask, “Are you in danger?”

She shakes her head a little too fast. “I’m fine, Liv. Really.”

“I’m sorry, but I have a hard time believing that.”

“It’s…personal.”

“Personal? Oh, my. Are you sleeping with Luke again?”

Claire stammers. The look on her face suggests that she didn’t expect you to jump to that conclusion. “What? How did you even–”

“Are you?” you repeat your question. 

The last time she slept with Luke Cage, she lied to you about it. She knew you would worry. It’s only natural for you to come to that conclusion now. Except that Luke is in prison, serving his sentence, and it doesn’t make sense. 

“How would I sleep with an incarcerated man?” Claire deadpans. 

“I’m sure you have your ways,” you say. 

“You’re grasping at straws.”

“That’s… true, but it’s coming from a place of love.”

She responds with a sigh. “I don’t wanna fight.”

You join in. You exhale, slowly lowering yourself down on the couch. “I’m sorry,” you murmur. “Just tell me you’re okay, please.”

She offers you a gentle smile. “I’m okay,” she says. 

“Thank you.” 

You choose to believe her. For the time being, at least. 

The silence tugs at your brain cells. You obsessed over Claire’s situation because you didn’t want to face your own, but now that your thoughts have regained the freedom to roam and cause irreversible destruction, you start spiraling again. 

You reach into your bag. 

“You brought wine,” Claire points out. 

“Yep,” you say. The bottle weighs heavily in your hand.

“You need a glass?”

You unscrew the top. “No.”

She doesn’t listen. Claire makes her way into the kitchen, reaching for the wine glasses in the cupboard. “Does this have anything to do with why your nose is all blue and swollen?” 

You shake your head at her question. “That was a patient I tried to sedate. No, I, uh… I have a date,” your voice falls flat. 

The wine glasses move back into the cupboard. Claire turns around, her eyebrows moving up to her hairline. “Come again?”

“I have a date.”

Saying it out loud makes it real. Something so surreal cannot be real, but it is. You have a date with Matt Murdock. Your heart begins racing again, and you feel the same desperate urge to scream into the nearest pillow again. 

You take a sip of wine straight from the bottle. You have a date with a nice man who, for the first time in two years, made you see some resemblance of light at the end of this endless tunnel of despair, and the thought alone is terrifying. Because how are you supposed to live after just existing for the longest time? After you dedicated your life to the act of survival?

Claire steps out of the kitchen and in front of you. “Liv, that’s… that’s amazing!” she says. She sounds like a proud mother. Maybe she is. 

You want to shake your head, but you can’t find it in yourself to do anything other than put the bottle back against your lips and take another sip. The alcohol burns down your esophagus into your stomach, spreading a warm feeling through your fragile body, and into your broken soul. 

“Or not,” she corrects herself upon seeing the expression you’re carrying. Your eyes are empty. “I’m confused,” She pauses, “Are we not happy about the fact that you’ve finally got a date after two years of being miserable?”

If she puts it like that, you feel even more miserable. Another sip of wine finds its way down your throat. 

“Okay, maybe you should put the bottle down. I’m sorry if I said something wrong–”

“It’s not you, it’s me.” You put the bottle down. 

Claire sits down next to you, but you get up before she can take your hand and look at you with that caring look she always gives you when she’s worried. You’re not even mad that she played your concerns down when you expressed them and now she is expressing concerns about you; you’re mad at yourself. 

She watches you. “You have a date. That’s a good thing. It means you allowed yourself to finally say yes to someone interested in you, right?”

“No,” you shake your head. 

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer.”

You’re pacing over the creaky floorboards. “The last time I went on a date with someone was after my intern year.”

Her gaze softens. “You told me that,” she murmurs. 

“He took me to a restaurant,” you tell her. Your lip quivers as you speak, and your nails dig into your palms until they draw blood. You can barely feel it. His face is right in front of you. “It was a nice restaurant. He paid for me, even offered me his jacket while we were walking home. It was the best date I ever had. And then he kissed me on the doorstep before wishing me a good night.”

“I know. You told me all of that before. But you couldn’t have known that he would turn out to be who he turned out to be. He was your boss. He had no right—”

“That is precisely the problem, Claire!” your voice breaks. “The guy I met, he’s… his name is Matthew. He’s… he is so nice to me. He cares. He treats me like a human being. He… he’s respectful. He called me beautiful. I don’t even know how he knows that. He just… he was so nice to me, and I feel so comfortable around him. I haven’t felt this comfortable around a man in so long. I… I wanted to go out with him. I flirted with him, for fuck’s sake! And when I’m with him, I finally feel wanted again.”

“But you know who else was nice to me when I first met him?” you say. “Who was respectful? Who said I was the only real thing in this world, the only important thing in his life, and that he loved me? You know who made me feel safe and wanted, and who said he cared about me? John said that I was the most beautiful woman on this planet, and I fell for it because he was nice to me. He–”

“But that guy isn’t John,” Claire cuts you off. She raises her voice only slightly—only enough to make you stop and stare at her, tears streaming down your cheeks. You’re miserable. You’re a mess. It is truly embarrassing. But she doesn’t look at you any differently.

“Don’t you think I know that?” you snap back. 

“Liv–”

“Every time I close my eyes, I see his face. I’m 32, and I can’t sleep without a nightlight most nights because I wake up in a cold sweat. I can’t drop a glass without going into shock. I can’t look in the mirror without feeling his hands on me. Without feeling disgusting and worthless, and…” You can feel the shiver traveling up your spine from the thought alone. “I can’t exist without feeling like he should have killed me when he got the chance.” 

“Liv, I know you’re upset, but please, don’t say that,” Claire says, her voice gentle yet assertive.

“Why? It’s true. I wish he would’ve killed me. He took four years of my life that I can never get back. At least if he’d killed me I wouldn’t have to suffer now.”

“That’s exactly why I don’t want you saying things like that.”

“You don’t get it,” you say. “Every time I look in the mirror, I want to vomit because I see what he made of me. I can’t even meet a nice guy and allow myself to like him without seeing his face and hearing his stupid voice in my ear, telling me—telling me that no one will ever love me, that he tainted me, and that I will never be free of him because I can’t exist without him.” You break into a sob. 

“And he was right, you know,” you cry. “I ran from him. I made the hardest decision of my life after years of living in his shadow, and I almost died. Because of him, I can’t trust a kind and respectful man who treats me like a person to actually be kind, and I recoil at the thought of someone being gentle with me. Something is seriously broken inside of me, Claire. Very, very broken.”

Claire opens her mouth, but all she can do is bear your tirade. She knows that if she speaks now, you will find another reason to shut her down. This is your pain talking. It’s a powerful avalanche set out to cause destruction on a global scale.

“With Matt, I—” you exhale. “I was myself around him for the first time since I ran away, and he didn’t shy away. I had hope, Claire. I felt like I could finally step into normal life again after settling down here, and I thought I’d have a chance,” you say. “But I just have to close my eyes, and John is right there to ruin everything for me. He is always right there, and I can’t fucking escape him. That’s the problem. That’s why I can’t be happy about this date because I’m fucking terrified. I can’t go through this again. I—I can’t give myself to someone again because there is hardly anything left of me. He took everything, including my ability to love another man ever again, and that thought is fucking with my head.”

You fall silent. The tears continue running down your cheeks, and you bury your face in your hands. Your knees are so weak. You don’t have it in you to hold yourself up any longer. You drop to the carpet, crying into your hands, but you don’t sob. You stay silent because your pain is so great, you don’t know whether to scream or shut down, so you scream internally and shut down from the world around you because you can’t face it. You can’t face Claire. 

The couch creaks. Her feet brush against the carpet. “He abused you,” her voice borders above a whisper. 

She kneels beside you, her hand reaching out—but not touching you. She knows what lines to cross and which to better leave untouched.

“What he did to you wasn’t your fault. He’s a cruel man with cruel intentions.” When you don’t shy away from her proximity, she finally places her hand on your shoulder. “You did the impossible. You survived. You’re here now because you chose to save yourself, and that is so admirable,” she says. “It’s been two years. You’re safe here, you’re not alone anymore, and I know it hurts and it is terrifying, but it’s a good sign that you want to feel more of what this guy made you feel.”

“But I can’t,” you choke out. 

“I know, and I wish I could help you, but I’m not a professional. The truth is, John may have made you feel like there is nothing left of you, but you’re not Olivia Clarke. You’re still you. You’re still…” Claire takes a deep breath before she utters your name. Your real name. The one you were given when you were born. 

The mention of your name makes you shiver. “She’s gone,” you say. “He killed her, but he left her body alive.”

“She’s not gone, she’s just buried very fucking deep. I mean, you said it yourself. You could be yourself around this other guy, and he took you for who you are. That isn’t Olivia, that’s you. And it’s such a good sign that you want to go out with him. That you like him. John hurt you, but he didn’t break you beyond repair. Please, you have to remember that.”

Your tears slowly subside. Her words finally manage to reach your rebelling mind through your ears. Even though everything feels like it has been wrapped in cotton, she manages to get through to you like no one else. It was a subconscious decision to come to her, but perhaps your soul knew something that you didn’t, and you can’t say that opening up didn’t help. 

The mess slowly subsides. Left behind is nothing but hot air, and the words Claire decided to share with you. 

You look up to meet her eyes. She smiles down at you. “I just… I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” you whisper.

“That’s why I think you should go on that date,” she tells you.

“Yeah, but who wants to sign up for a mess like me?”

“Seems like he does. And if he’s a good guy, he’ll like you regardless of your mess.”

“You know it’s not that easy.”

She shrugs. “I hate to break it to you, but you can’t pretend it never happened. And you can’t give John the satisfaction of putting your life on hold because of him. That’s just giving him what he wants.”

“I don’t want to give him what he wants,” you’re quick to answer.

Claire hands you a tissue, and you take it gratefully, wiping your runny nose and the salty tears stuck to your dry skin.

Her words stir something within you; even though you don’t want her to be right, she is. Matt may not deserve a mess like you, but if he’s truly a good guy, it can’t hurt to see if it would work between you. And when your past comes out eventually, there is a chance that he won’t abandon you. A slight chance, but a chance nonetheless. That’s a positive outlook you still have to learn how to adapt.

“C’mon.” Claire helps you off the floor and onto the couch. 

You reach for the bottle of wine instantly, but she takes it away from you. She screws the top back on and places it aside, far out of your desperate reach.

“This is not the answer,” she says, “talking is.”

“Can’t we talk and have wine?” you counter.

“Not when you’re on the verge of a nervous breakdown.”

You sniff, wiping the remaining tears on your cheeks with the tissue. 

“We need to take care of you, and alcohol won’t fix your problems.”

Once again, she isn’t wrong. You let out a defeated sigh before dropping your head in her lap. 

A long time ago, you used to be an affectionate person. The fear of being hurt again, of someone raising their hand against you, took that away from you. With Claire though, it’s different. You know she won’t hurt you. She’s not that kind of person, and you can say that with complete certainty. 

Claire Temple is not a violent human being, except for when the people she loves are in danger, but only then. 

She gently brushes the hair out of your face and crumbles it into a messy bun at the back of your head. She wipes at your nose and the last of your tears before they can dry out your skin more than it already is. The past couple of days have taken an emotional and physical toll on you. 

You wince slightly when you notice how sore your nose is. It isn’t broken, but you still got hit. You’re not quite healed yet. A shiver rolls down your spine. 

Shaking her head, Claire gently removes her hand. “You always get yourself in trouble when I’m not around,” she mutters. 

You scoff softly. “Maybe that’s a sign.”

“A sign for you to be more careful, yeah,” she says. 

“Now, where would be the fun in that?” You try to joke, but your voice falls flat with the weight of your exhaustion. 

Claire offers you a chuckle, but it’s more of a pity laugh than anything else.

You sigh. You know that you’re not an example when it comes to the significance of making the right decisions. Not at all. 

“Did I ever thank you for saving my life?” you ask her then, breaking the silence between you in two.

She leans back against the cushions. “Once or twice.”

“Not nearly enough then.”

“I don’t know about that. I mean, if you hadn’t come into Metro General with your hand in a man’s chest cavity, I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to help you. You chose to stay.”

“Well, I had my hand on his vena cava, so, letting go would have been unfortunate for the poor guy.”

“That’s true.”

“But if you hadn’t disobeyed protocol, risking your job by putting your trust in me, I wouldn’t have had a reason to stay.”

Claire looks down at you, and you meet her eyes. “That sounded a lot like a love confession,” she nudges you.

You roll your eyes playfully. “You wish.”

“Hey, I’d understand it if you were in love with me. I’m hot.”

She never fails to make you laugh, even when you feel like a truck has rolled you over and broken every bone in your body. That is one of the many qualities you value about her. She’s a good person with a good heart, and she is the kind of person you could trust with your life and she would always make sure that you come out on the other side unharmed, mentally and physically. 

If she hadn’t taken you under her wing, you’re not sure where you would be, but it surely wouldn’t be where you are now.

When your laughter quiets down, you nod. “I can’t argue with that. You are hot. If you weren’t my friend,” you say, “I’d ask you out.”

“And if I were into women, I’d say yes,” she says. 

“I appreciate that.”

“Speaking of dates though–” She stops when you sigh a little too loudly. Claire shoots you a stern glare before she continues, “Promise me you won’t cancel.”

It’s not a question, it’s a statement. She wants you to mean it. You won’t lie; canceling your plans with Matt did cross your mind, but after Claire worked her magic on you, you can see a little clearer. The fog that kept your mind clouded has started to lift slowly but steadily. You’re no longer spiraling as fast as you have before. 

If you could wash your hands and wash him off of you, it wouldn’t be as much of a problem as it is, but you’ve tried. You have tried washing all memory of him off of your body, out of your mind, but he’s a resilient son of a bitch. John will always try to drive a wedge between you and a normal, happy life, the question is just if you will allow him to do so without even being near you, or if you will finally allow yourself to crawl out of the dark hole he tossed you into. 

You can’t do it alone, and asking for help is terrifying. You have spent the past two years trying to push through. Unfortunately, your healthy coping mechanisms won’t work forever. 

You sigh again, a little quieter. “I won’t cancel,” you tell her, your voice barely above a whisper, yet still so very certain. As certain as you can be, anyway. 

“Thank you.” Claire reaches for the wine bottle next to the couch. “You deserve to be happy.”

“Hm,” you can only murmur. 

“What?”

“What are you doing with the bottle?” you ask. 

“Drinking,” she says. 

“Now I feel betrayed.”

“You should celebrate the fact that you found a Matt, or whatever his name is, and not another Mike.”

You promptly sit up. “Hold up. Pause. Rewind. Mike, like your ex?”

Claire takes a sip of the bottle. A storm rages behind her hazel eyes. You have never seen her that conflicted before. 

“Is he the personal reason why you’re subjecting yourself to a constant allergic reaction by staying here?” you ask. 

The pieces slowly start falling into place. She nods. “Not Mike Mike, but yeah. It’s always the Mike’s.”

Your jaw drops. “I feel like you skipped some chapters there. You met a guy and you didn’t tell me? What–”

“He met me,” she corrects you. “I didn’t tell you because we’re not a thing. Let’s just say there’s a reason his name is Mike. That’s why I’m here.”

Claire takes another sip. You watch her closely, trying to catch her in a lie, but it seems like she’s telling the truth—or a version of the actual truth, but that still makes it true. She’s giving you as much as she can after you cried your eyes out to her. 

You clear your throat, lowering your voice. “But you’re not in danger?” you ask to clarify. 

She shakes her head. “I just have shitty taste in men, even if it's platonic, apparently. It’s like… I’m trying to exist, and then I find a stray cat in a dumpster, but the stray cat has been stabbed and needs medical attention.”

“But you’re allergic to cats and you’re not a vet?” you try to make sense of her analogy. 

When she lets out a sigh and nods, you figure you came as close as possible. It still doesn’t make sense to you, but when does anything? At least when it comes to romance and people’s love lives.

You decide to push a little more, “Did you actually find an injured guy in a dumpster?” 

She shakes her head. The reaction comes a little fast, but you don’t question it. “No, that–that was just an analogy,” Claire says. 

“And Mike is the stray cat in that analogy? But not your Mike, another Mike?”

“Yeah.”

“Dude, you’re frying my brain cells.”

“The single one you still have, or did you buy new ones?”

You try not to laugh, trying to look like you are genuinely offended, but your lips still curl up into a smile. “Shut up,” you mutter. You reach for the bottle, against better judgment, and take a sip.

Claire shakes her head. “What I’m trying to tell you is that, if he’s a good guy, you can’t let him slip away. You can’t let a good thing slip away and possibly end up with a–a Mike kinda guy for the rest of your life.”

“I know.” You look down at your hands, your broken fingernails, and sore knuckles from the constant scrubbing. “I just wish I could understand what he’s doing to me without questioning my entire existence.”

“Some people are just that enigmatic,” and she sounds as if she knows exactly what she’s talking about. 

You wonder about Mike. Not her ex-boyfriend but the one she mentioned. He sounds like he has no sense of self-preservation, and he may not even be a good influence. He reminds you of yourself, and that’s creepy—you don’t even know him. 

And then there is Matt, who is also so eerily similar to you, but in different ways. It’s more of an emotional connection. His heart is in the right place. And unlike the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, he doesn’t have a savior complex.

Why did he even come to your mind? His existence should not be playing into the equation. You brush the picture of his chiseled chest in that tight shirt away, or the way he looked even more dangerous with that smirk below the the mask. 

You hand the wine bottle back to Claire. If you don’t cut yourself off now, you will melt into a puddle of embarrassment. 

Your focus should be on Matt and Matt alone. You have to try. Claire was right. You can’t sacrifice your happiness because you’re scared—you can’t give the man who dedicated his life to breaking you and your confidence down the satisfaction of cowering in fear every time a man shows an interest in you. A good man. A man who could make you happier than he ever had. 

You won’t run this time. You will face the situation head-on. You owe that much to the little girl who dreamed of a life beyond the hell she grew up in, the same girl who was obsessed with finding her soulmate and still believed in true love. Above everyone, you owe it to yourself. No one else matters quite as much as you do. 

And for the sake of seeing what could be instead of wondering what could have been, you have to try.

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @danzer8705 @kakamixo @littlehappyperson @atemydadforbreakfast @stevenknightmarc @zheezs14 @shouldbestudying41 @kiwwia-wiwwia

[gimmethatagustd]

venor (4) | kth + jjk

The barista at the university’s café keeps telling Jungkook not to come back, but Jungkook is too busy daydreaming about kissing the beauty marks on his face to be paying attention to his warnings.

○ Pairing: Tiger!Taehyung x Bunny!Jungkook

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Hybrids, predator/prey, college au, strangers to lovers, slow burn, fluff, light angst, eventual smut

○ Word Count: 5,275

○ Warnings: None

○ Notes: Did Jai get tired of making the messaging graphics and is now just doing plain text? Yes. Are we gonna talk about it? No.

○ Post Date: February 25, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Cross-Post

○ What was Jai listening to? The series playlist

Series Masterlist

vante95

what’s up?

“Suyun! Suyun! Suyun!”

Jungkook launches himself from his seat and bolts to the opposite side of the room, where Suyun is still drawing her scary equations and chemistry things on the whiteboard. He shoves his phone in front of her face and waggles it until she grabs his wrist to hold him in place.

“Calm down, young man.” She glares at Jungkook, but it’s not at all menacing, and they both know it. 

It would be nice, but Jungkook can’t calm down. Every vein in his body jitters with something terrifyingly electric, like he stuck his finger in an outlet and tried to walk through the aftershocks. It makes him feel like he might pass out, but in a good way.

Maybe Jungkook needs to chill out.

Maybe Jungkook isn’t worried about that, though. What’s so bad about having a little crush? Jungkook has never actually had one, not a real one, so he thinks it might be nice to lean into it. Suyun encouraged him to reach out to Taehyung anyway. Jungkook would argue that he can’t be held responsible.

“What should I say?” Jungkook bounces on the balls of his feet, and he’s glad his shirt is long enough to hide his tail because it might be wiggling. Perhaps. No one needs to know.

“Oh no, I’m terrible at this,” Suyun hands Jungkook his phone. She pouts with a shrug. “I don’t even know how I got Jackson to date me. I’m terrible at small talk and flirting.”

Looks like Jungkook is on his own.

He plops in his seat, homework assignments forgotten. With his chest pressed against the edge of the table and his arms stretched out in front of him, Jungkook lets out a long, pitiful groan.

jkookie

Just studying with my friend 😊 What about you?

vante95

that’s cute

i’m taking a break at work

yknow at my job at a cafe for predators only

jkookie

🫠 I don’t think it’s fair to ban prey from going! The donuts are so good

vante95

so the donuts are why you keep showing up

that the only reason?

jkookie

... Yes

vante95

mhm

interesting

jkookie

Is it?? They’re good! I love the powder sugar ones and the sprinkles

vante95

i would’ve thought you’d like the striped ones

jkookie

I

I’ve never had the striped ones before

vante95

lol

cute

anyway

if you’re gonna keep being difficult about this at least promise me something

jkookie

👀 What?

vante95

only come during my shift

jkookie

Why?

vante95

so i can make sure no one eats you

“Oh, that’s kinky,” Suyun announces over Jungkook’s shoulder. “Tell him you want him to eat you.”

“Suyun!” With a gasp, Jungkook turns in his chair to stare at Suyun, wide-eyed and innocent.

“I don’t know. It seemed like a logical next step. He kind of lobbed it to you, right?” Suyun shrugs and returns to the whiteboard. “Make the basket, Jungkookie.”

Suyun has definitely been spending too much time with Jackson.

jkookie

Am I supposed to believe that your being there will matter?

It’s a risky text to send. Jungkook worries he comes off rude, especially when it takes a bit longer for Taehyung to respond than it did for his other texts. Before he can get too worked up about it, Jungkook reminds himself that Taehyung is at work. He might be slow to respond because he’s busy — which technically Jungkook is, too, but he decides that taking a little break from homework is needed.

Taehyung’s following text message comes a few minutes later, and Jungkook lets out a little groan because why is Taehyung’s level of cockiness so attractive? It shouldn’t be a surprise; Taehyung carries himself confidently, which was apparent from when Jungkook first met him.

vante95

i’m kind of a big deal

jkookie

What are you, their alpha??

vante95

did you really just ask that

jkookie

I have to go now

Bye

vante95

lol

see you tomorrow bun

Cheeks aflame, Jungkook slips his phone into his pocket and tells himself that he will not, under any circumstances, look at it until later tonight, after he’s finished his homework and gotten dinner with Yoongi. It’s their night to cook together once Yoongi gets home from work.

It doesn’t take long for Jungkook to finish the work that requires his immediate attention. He’ll deal with the other assignments later, like the Art History assignment Professor Jung referred to during class. Jungkook still hasn’t settled on a topic for that one yet. It isn’t that he’s slacking; in reality, he has many potential project topics he’s interested in and is having trouble narrowing down the list. Perhaps he’ll find time to stop by Professor Jung’s office later in the week to ask for help.

Saying goodbye to Suyun, Jungkook braves the dying evening heat to head to the train station. There isn’t a grocery store within walking distance of the university with all the ingredients he and Yoongi need for dakgalbi, so Jungkook has to travel a few blocks south to reach the neighborhood grocery store. 

Jungkook doesn’t mind the commute or having to meander through aisles looking for red chili paste, shishito peppers, and cooking wine. Growing up with overprotective parents meant Jungkook spent much time trailing behind them, running errands, and learning about adult responsibilities. Time spent alone or with kids his age wasn’t a luxury he got to experience often, though he cherished those moments when he got the opportunity to.

So, Jungkook enjoys searching for groceries. He likes the colorful products lining the shelves, the slightly stale smell of some older grocery stores, and the dark markings of rubber-soled shoes smudged on the linoleum. Lately, errands like this have made him miss his parents, but not enough to truly consider himself homesick. His drive for independence prevents him from getting too nostalgic. 

Hunger encourages Jungkook to finish up his grocery shopping quickly. He forces himself only to buy what’s needed and manages to fit most of the items in his backpack. With the wine in a grocery bag looped through his fingers and his backpack sitting on his lap, Jungkook watches the neighborhoods blur on the train ride back to campus.

The train isn’t separated by predators and prey like the university is. Most of the public isn’t, at least not legally. Jungkook has noticed that prey tend to flock together, rarely intermingling with predators unless necessary. It’s hard in an oppressive society where predators are always on top, even in a progressive city like Seoul.

Jungkook never thought about how predators and prey interact until he moved. Now, though, he notices so much more — like the group of predators who enter his train car a few stops before they reach the university. He recognizes a few of them, particularly the wolf hybrid from Taehyung’s friend group. The group doesn’t pay Jungkook any mind, quickly shuffling past him toward the back of the car, where there are more seats. 

Disappointment uncoils inside Jungkook when he doesn’t see a messy head of copper curls follow the wolf hybrid when he walks past where Jungkook sits, but he reminds himself that Taehyung is at work. 

It’s for the best that Jungkook has no distractions on his way home. Poor Yoongi will be waiting for him.

-

The third time Jungkook visits Venor Cafe, Taehyung is working behind the counter. He stands with his hip propped against the edge of the counter and talks to the snow leopard hybrid while she counts money at the register. The bills make a papery sound as she flips them between her fingers with practiced precision. She doesn’t look up when the bell over the front door rings, but Taehyung does.

Taehyung easily maintains his conversation with his coworker while his sharp feline eyes stalk Jungkook to the counter. The look on Taehyung’s face is nothing short of predatory, but all Jungkook can focus on is his comforting scent. He wonders whether Taehyung’s scent spiked when Jungkook entered the cafe or if it’s all in his head.

“Give us a sec,” the snow leopard gestures to the open register drawer when Jungkook approaches.

Jungkook nods and gives himself a moment to check out his surroundings. A handful of other customers are scattered around the cafe, none that catch Jungkook’s attention. He only has eyes for the tiger behind the counter, and Taehyung definitely has his eyes on him, too.

“Bun.” Taehyung leans his forearms on the counter, bringing him closer to where Jungkook stands just half a step back.

“Hi,” Jungkook says with a cheerful smile that isn’t returned. “How are you doing today?”

The snow leopard snorts, and Taehyung’s pretty mouth twitches at the corners. His dark eyes flit to the backpack slung over one of Jungkook’s shoulders, and Jungkook notices that Taehyung is wearing thin, black eyeliner, making his expression pointed.

“I’m assuming you plan on staying in here?”

He ignores Jungkook’s question about his day. It’s rude, but Jungkook will let it pass because Taehyung looks exceptionally fluffy today, and it’s doing something to his chest.

“Yup. I’m starting a new routine.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm, this is my time to decompress after class before my shift at the library starts.”

Taehyung bites the inside of his cheek, eyes flashing with something Jungkook can’t read. He straightens up to let his coworker pass, taking her apron before she disappears into the backdoor marked for employees only.

“That’s nice,” Taehyung comments, tone flat and almost bored. “Listen, bun, you’re gonna do me a favor and sit right there.” Dipping his head, Taehyung gestures to the large couch and well-worn leather armchairs directly across from the register.

Jungkook turns around to look at the seating arrangement. The chairs surround a glass coffee table stacked with old university event fliers and a few tiny potted succulents. The furniture looks comfortable, and Jungkook spots an outlet nearby.

“Why?” Jungkook asks, turning back to face the counter.

“I already told you.” Taehyung’s eyes travel down Jungkook’s body, pausing where his crop top exposes a hint of his midriff. “Gotta make sure nobody eats you.”

Blinking rapidly, Jungkook hurriedly breaks eye contact with Taehyung as a flush spreads up his neck and across his face. Never has he felt so attuned to his instincts as he does now, his entire body prickly and on edge. Taehyung makes Jungkook want to run.

No, Taehyung makes Jungkook want to be chased.

Shaken by that realization, Jungkook jerks into action. He gives Taehyung a quick nod and turns to the leather couch. On his way to getting settled, he nearly knocks over the succulents and sends a few fliers shooting into the air and fluttering to the floor like autumn leaves.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jungkook murmurs, snatching the papers and trying to ignore the low chuckle coming from behind the counter, eventually drowned out by the sound of the espresso machine.

Despite the unexpected start to his “Decompress Time,” Jungkook finds his rhythm rather quickly. The leather couch is worn but comfortable, with plush cushions that form to Jungkook from years of being well-loved by loyal customers. He rests his tablet on the arm of the couch to prop it up at a comfortable angle so he can work on his comic. 

A busy schedule has prevented him from progressing much, but Jungkook has learned not to shame himself for moving slowly. Hobbies are meant to be fun; there’s no use making himself miserable over something that should bring him joy.

Perhaps Jungkook enjoys it a little too much, getting lost in the colorful worlds he creates with furrowed brows and a stylus gripped in one hand. After a while, the rest of the world grows fuzzy and desaturated, like the unfinished background of a lesser scene in Jungkook’s comic. He doesn’t notice the figure looming over him until his backpack is pushed to the side on the glass coffee table.

“One iced mocha latte.”

“But…” Jungkook watches Taehyung place the drink on the coffee table in front of him. “I didn’t order anything.”

Taehyung gives Jungkook a blank expression for half a beat before turning his back on Jungkook’s confusion and returning to the register as a few more customers trickle in. There’s no use in calling after him; Jungkook would prefer not to draw attention to himself, and he wouldn’t want Taehyung to get in trouble — since it mustn’t be allowed, right? To give away free drinks?

It’s hard to ignore the fuzzy feeling Jungkook gets in his chest when he picks up the drink and gives himself a moment to process that Taehyung remembered his order from weeks ago. Jungkook has seen the cafe during busy hours; he’s sure Taehyung has far too many customers to remember orders, yet Taehyung remembered his.

The drink is in a disposable paper coffee cup. Disappointment nips Jungkook in the heart when he realizes Taehyung has put his drink in a to-go cup as if to subliminally tell him to leave. Jungkook twists the cup in his hand and notices something scribbled with a permanent marker on the side — a small cartoon bunny with floppy ears and large, starry eyes. Underneath the drawing in messy handwriting is the simple greeting, Hi, bun.

Jungkook isn’t sure how much blushing he can take today. His body is heating up so severely that he’s worried his scent might start spiking from embarrassment in the middle of a predators’ hangout.

Taking a deep breath, he risks looking at the counter. Perhaps there is a different edge to Jungkook’s scent, or Taehyung has an uncanny sixth sense, but his eyes immediately lock with Taehyung’s. Like before, Taehyung’s expression is unreadable. Their connection is broken with a blink, and Taehyung focuses on tending to the next customer in line to order. Only the twitch of his striped ears give a hint that he might still be paying attention to the bunny across the room.

Jungkook takes a sip of his drink to stop himself from grinning.

Over the next few weeks, Jungkook visits Venor Cafe fairly regularly. He doesn’t come in during all of Taehyung’s shifts; Yoongi thoroughly explained how creepy that would make Jungkook seem. Jungkook doesn’t see the harm in it, but he trusts his hyung to know about these things — even if Yoongi tends to overthink quite a lot.

Besides, Jungkook knows that Taehyung enjoys having him around. Why else would he continue drawing adorable bunnies on Jungkook’s cups and leaving little messages on his napkins?

Sometimes, Taehyung is too busy to talk to Jungkook. On those days, Jungkook receives even more hidden messages accompanied by drinks and snacks that Jungkook doesn’t order but appear on the coffee table anyway.

From what Jungkook has observed, most of the employees are college students who aren’t the most ambitious and don’t always take their jobs seriously. They aren’t like Taehyung, who works hard and is attentive to his customers, no matter how tired he may seem. It’s admirable, and Jungkook likes how the more he gets to know Taehyung, the more he proves those terrible stereotypes people feed about predators wrong.

Even the other predators at the cafe don’t seem too bad. By now, Jungkook has spent hours on the leather couch that always seems free, even when the rest of the cafe is crowded, and he has never been treated poorly by the other customers. He’s starting to think everyone is overreacting. What are they seeing in the world that Jungkook can’t?

Considering he has no other predator friends, Jungkook figures he may as well ask Taehyung all his questions. But, first, he has an important matter to settle.

“So, why are you in a prey class?” 

“I can’t talk to you, bun. I’m working.” 

“You were behind the counter texting someone not even five minutes ago,” Jungkook challenges with a toothy grin, “Answer my question.”

Looking up from where he’s wiping off one of the tables, Taehyung gives Jungkook a long stare. His hair is pushed away from his face today, held back by a black bandana to match his all-black outfit. Nothing should be so attractive about a black t-shirt and jeans, especially not all-black Air Forces, yet Jungkook can’t get over how pretty Taehyung is.

What’s even more adorable is how the two of them probably look together, staring each other down in the back corner of the cafe, Taehyung in all black and Jungkook in pastels.

“I thought bunnies were supposed to be timid,” Taehyung finally comments with an arched brow. 

“I’m not like most bunnies.”

Jungkook regrets his response the moment he gives it and internally cringes. Taehyung’s laughter makes it worse. 

“Cute.” Taehyung smirks, the tip of his striped tail flicking from where he tucks it in the string ties of his apron. The placement keeps his tail out of the way as he works. Earlier, Jungkook almost stepped on it while following Taehyung around the cafe, and he isn’t particularly interested in finding out what an angry tiger looks like.

“I’m taking it because the timing for our class session conflicted with my schedule, and I needed to take this one now since I want to graduate a semester early. Trust me, I wouldn’t take a class with prey if I didn’t have to. No offense.”

“Why not?”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “You’re something special, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, I am,” Jungkook agrees with more confidence than he should have for someone unsure if Taehyung’s comment was a compliment. 

With a shake of his head and a laugh that’s a rush of air through his nostrils, Taehyung fights the urge to smile as he resumes cleaning the messy table. Jungkook should probably return to his seat, but he’s having more fun bouncing on the balls of his feet while Taehyung scrubs at a sticky spot on the table. Part of that fun might be because the veins in Taehyung’s forearms become more defined as he scrubs harder and his bicep bulges against the tight cuff of his t-shirt.

“Bun.”

Blinking, Jungkook looks up to meet the heartstopping smirk on Taehyung’s face.

“Um, yes?”

Taehyung gestures to the side of his head, grin growing wider when Jungkook lifts his hand. One of Jungkook’s ears has fallen from inside his bucket hat, exposing it to the whole cafe. Jungkook quickly shoves it back inside the hat, having sworn he’d tied both back adequately, stress radiating from his trembling body.

“Hey, hey,” Taehyung’s warm fingers encircle Jungkook’s wrist and pull his hand away from his head. “It’s okay.”

“I’m not—”

“Can I tell you something?” Taehyung interrupts. He waits for Jungkook to nod before continuing, “It doesn’t matter if you hide your ears or tail, bun. We all know what you are, even without seeing them.”

“What do you mean?” When Jungkook’s face scrunches with confusion, Taehyung taps the tip of Jungkook’s wiggly nose with his index finger.

“Our senses are sharper than yours. Prey smell different.” Taehyung slips the cleaning rag into his apron’s pocket. He looks amused, as though there’s a secret joke to what he’s said that Jungkook doesn’t understand.

Unsure of how to respond, Jungkook stands with his fingers nervously tapping against his thighs and waits with bated breath as Taehyung plucks his hat from his head.

“I like your ears. They’re cute,” Taehyung murmurs just quiet enough for Jungkook to hear. He holds the hat out for Jungkook to take, then turns on his heel without another word, leaving Jungkook flustered — not for the first time, and certainly not for the last. 

At some point, Suyun starts hanging out with Jungkook at Venor Cafe. The first time she visits the cafe is with Jackson, who Jungkook is surprised to learn is friends with Taehyung. Considering how tall and athletic they are, the fact that the two predators play on the university’s basketball team makes sense to Jungkook. A fox hybrid, Jackson moves elegantly and is quick on his feet, bouncing around as he playfully tussles with Taehyung before the start of his shift. The obnoxious display of predatory behavior makes Suyun roll her eyes, though her cheeks grow pink whenever Jackson smiles at her from across the cafe.

It’s disgusting couple behavior in the kind of way that Jungkook thinks he would quite literally die to experience himself.

Luckily, Jackson doesn’t frequent the cafe — not that Jungkook doesn’t like him. It’s merely that Jungkook enjoys spending time with Suyun, and it’s easier when Jackson doesn’t serve as a distraction.

Suyun argues that Jungkook gets distracted by a particular employee, but she doesn’t tease him too badly about it. Jungkook is grateful for that, considering someone else does enough teasing.

“Two spooky pumpkin cinnamon donuts with chocolate drizzle.”

Taehyung places two small plates on the coffee table in front of the leather couch — which has become Jungkook’s couch at this point. He has yet to arrive at the cafe to find it already occupied. What strange luck.

“We didn’t order—”

“Shhh,” Taehyung interrupts Suyun with a finger to his lips. “It’s officially autumn, and Jungkook has never had striped donuts.”

A wink is Taehyung’s goodbye as he returns to his work duties, leaving the pastries behind. They look delicious, and having tried the cafe’s other donuts, Jungkook is confident they won’t disappoint. He picks one up and cups his other hand underneath it to catch the cinnamon crumbles that might fall from it when he takes a bite.

“Jungkook,” Suyun whispers as she watches him chew.

“Hmm?”

“He gave you an orange donut with brown stripes.”

Jungkook nods with a little hum of appreciation. The donut is really good.

“Do you not get it…?” Suyun’s eyes widen, and her large, round ears perk up. She smacks Jungkook on the thigh with her whip-like tail when he doesn’t say anything, making him yelp. “Orange with stripes! Jungkook! The tiger just fed you an orange donut with brown stripes.”

Jungkook’s entire body shivers with realization. “Ohh…”

“Yeah,” Suyun scoffs, shaking her head. “Yeah."

“I mean, it’s just a seasonal donut. It doesn’t, like, mean something.” Jungkook gestures to the cafe’s large front windows as if to point out the trees' changing color and the skittering leaves along the sidewalk. “Right?”

Suyun shrugs and reaches for her own donut. “I don’t know… Is it normal for him to give you free food like this?”

Jungkook nods, and something weird inside him makes his stomach flutter when Suyun hums in surprise.

“Well… That’s… I mean, that’s interesting.”

Setting his tablet and stylus on the coffee table, Jungkook turns on the couch to face Suyun. “What do you mean? What’s interesting?”

When Suyun shakes her head, Jungkook musters up the most pathetic pout he can come up with.

“Suyun, please tell me. I don’t understand.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she mutters with a roll of her eyes. “It probably doesn’t mean anything at all. It’s just that sometimes gift-giving is a, um, it’s a component of—”

Before Suyun can finish her botched explanation, Taehyung appears beside the couch. He’s engrossed in something on his phone and no longer wearing his apron.

“Scoot over, bun. I’m taking my break,” Taehyung demands as he wiggles in between Jungkook and the arm of the couch.

Startled, Jungkook scrambles to the middle of the couch, giving Taehyung more room. He’s reminded of how big Taehyung is, with spread thighs and broad shoulders that brush against Jungkook’s. Today, they’re both in jeans, though Jungkook is wearing an oversized v-neck sweater, whereas Taehyung is in a plain t-shirt. It’s getting cold outside, but Taehyung’s body seems to run hot.

This is the closest they’ve ever been, and Jungkook feels like he can’t breathe.

“Is that me?”

Suyun smacks Jungkook on the arm, bringing his attention to Taehyung’s gaze. Following it, his stomach overturns with nausea when he realizes what Taehyung is looking at.

“What? No!” Jungkook snatches his tablet and holds it to his chest like a teenage girl who has had her diary read. “Why would it be you?”

Taehyung rests his elbow on the arm of the couch and holds his chin in his hand. His boxy mouth curves into a small smile, though Jungkook isn’t fooled. The giddy look on Taehyung’s face is mocking.

What can he expect, really? Taehyung has just seen the portrait Jungkook has been drawing of him.

“Let me see it.”

“No.”

“If it’s not me, why can’t I?” Taehyung’s grin is sharp, canines glinting in the natural lighting.

Jungkook thinks about how Suyun said he should let Taehyung eat him.

“It’s not good…” Jungkook makes up an excuse. The portrait is good; Jungkook has been working on it for weeks. He told himself he needed a break from working on his comic and wanted to practice realism.

Really, he just likes looking at Taehyung.

“Y’know, bun, I’m majoring in Museum Studies and Studio Art,” Taehyung speaks casually as though he isn’t at all phased by the fact that some prey hybrid who thrust himself into his life has been creepily drawing him while he works. “I know a thing or two about good art.”

Jungkook knew this. He was surprised when he first learned that Taehyung wanted to work as a curator or exhibition designer in a museum. It was a cool career aspiration that Jungkook had never considered, probably because his mind was always clouded by the financial stability entering the tech industry could bring him. Now that he knows more about what’s out there in the world, he sometimes has his regrets.

“That makes me want to show you even less,” Jungkook mumbles, sneakily turning off the tablet and returning it to the coffee table. “Maybe some other time.”

Jungkook doesn’t know why he pseudo-promises a future where Taehyung may see his artwork, but he can’t help it. Maybe it’s the enthralling look in Taehyung’s eyes when he realized the drawing was of himself. Maybe it’s the warmth of Taehyung’s tail resting on Jungkook’s thigh.

Maybe Jungkook is actually losing his mind.

“I’ll hold you to that, bun,” Taehyung says with a grin. His eyes roam Jungkook’s face like he’s committing it to memory or searching for something amongst the scar on his cheek and the beauty mark under his bottom lip.

The bell above the cafe’s front door rings, drawing Taehyung’s attention away from Jungkook. A group of predators enters, led by the wolf hybrid Jungkook has unfortunately run across far too many times lately. It’s odd to see the same person so often, especially in such a large city as Seoul.

“Hoseok hyung!” Taehyung waves at one of the men. For a moment, Jungkook fears that Taehyung is calling over the wolf hybrid, but instead, a snake hybrid breaks off from the group to weave through the tables.

“Taehyungie, what’s up? Are you not working today?”

Jungkook doesn’t miss how Hoseok eyes him and Suyun. However, he doesn’t know how to interpret the snake hybrid’s expression. The slitted eyes throw him off.

“Nah, I’m just taking a break. You guys still going over to Byungchul’s later?”

When Hoseok nods, the white scales that contour his face and collarbones glitter.

“Are you?”

“Of course. I need a fucking break,” Taehyung groans, leaning his head back on the couch.

“Bringing your… friends with you?” Hoseok’s eyes sweep over him and Suyun, again hard to read.

Taehyung shifts slightly, and Jungkook tries to scoot over to give him more room. Taehyung stops him by wrapping his arm around Jungkook’s shoulders and gently drawing him into his side. Rather than be startled by Taehyung’s sudden out-of-character behavior, Jungkook melts into his embrace. Taehyung’s body is warm and firm, and his scent is so calming that Jungkook feels like he can fall asleep from how comfortable he is. He doesn’t even bother wondering why Taehyung is acting this way.

“Oh! I’m hanging out with Jackson’s family this weekend,” Suyun turns to give Jungkook an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot to tell you.”

As part of their Art History class final project, they’re supposed to visit a new ancient Egyptian art exhibit at the National Museum of Korea. Jungkook and Suyun had plans to go together over the weekend.

“It’s okay,” Jungkook reassures her with a small smile. He doesn’t mind going to the museum alone.

Taehyung squeezes Jungkook’s shoulder. When Jungkook turns to look up at him, he still has his eyes on Hoseok. It’s a nice view, though. Jungkook can admire the curl of Taehyung’s pretty eyelashes and the jut of his plump lips. He has to fight the urge to nuzzle into his neck.

“He better not fucking bring any prey.”

Jungkook feels Taehyung tense as the wolf hybrid saunters to stand beside Hoseok. There’s something slimy about him, even beyond his gross comments toward Jungkook on his first day of school.

“That’s no way to speak about your hyung, Byungchul.” Taehyung’s response is clipped, a tone Jungkook isn’t familiar hearing from him.

Byungchul crosses his arms against his chest as if to puff himself up. He’s more muscular than Taehyung, but he isn’t as tall or broad, and he looks silly, forcing himself to seem bigger than he really is.

“You’ve already tainted the only predator cafe in the neighborhood by letting them in,” Byungchul gestures to Jungkook and Suyun, who frowns at him in a way she probably thinks is intimidating. “There’s no way you’re ruining our hangouts, too.”

The words don’t necessarily sting because Jungkook doesn’t know Byungchul, but they make him uneasy. It seems like a threat, something Jungkook has never experienced before. He’s never experienced any kind of discrimination before.

Standing up, Taehyung gets in Byungchul’s face, though Byungchul doesn’t back down.

“If you have a problem with them being here, you can leave.”

Jungkook, Suyun, and Hoseok watch silently as the two predators size each other up. Clearly, neither wants to back down, but Taehyung has an advantage over Byungchul because of his age and the fact that he works at the cafe. Eventually, Byungchul backs away with a glare in Jungkook and Suyun’s direction.

“Fine,” Byungchul grunts. He’s quick to turn his back on the group and shoulder through the front door, flinging it open hard enough that it’s loud when it slams closed behind him.

“What a little shit,” Hoseok says with a cackle that shows all his teeth. They’re pointy, too. Never has Jungkook been around so much danger. “He’ll never survive in the real world.”

Taehyung isn’t as amused. He motions for Jungkook and Suyun to get up once Hoseok has fallen into the line at the register.

“Can you please leave?” Taehyung asks with a weary sigh. Jungkook knows he and Suyun don’t have a say in the matter.

On another day, Jungkook would be sad, but he feels relieved to leave the cafe when Taehyung asks. He and Suyun don’t bother looking back when they slip out the front door like teens sneaking out of the house, careful not to draw attention to themselves.

“What bullshit,” Suyun huffs once they’re out of earshot of the cafe. She kicks a stray pebble on the sidewalk and watches it ricochet off a nearby tree.

“Do you have to deal with that kind of stuff a lot? Because of Jackson?” Jungkook asks quietly. He’s still shaken up, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

Suyun shakes her head. “Most of his friends are pretty chill. Byungchul has something wrong with him.”

Clearly, Jungkook thinks as they make their way to the library. Maybe some predators are rotten apples. 

Series Masterlist

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. 

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd &daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.

[hbyrde36]

No Vacancy

Chapter 10: Lost and Found

WC: 5196 | R: Explicit | CH: 10/12 | AO3 | Now Complete!

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9

*STEVE*

It took Steve a moment to remember where he was when a very loud, very annoying alarm went off right next to his head at the crack of dawn. The man in his arms was familiar, even if the surroundings weren’t, but as he glanced around at the old band posters and polaroids stuck to the wall, and let Eddie’s scent fill his nose, the last two days came back in a rush. 

He rolled over, the sheets sliding down his body as he leaned out to stop the incessant beeping of the bedside clock, and was hit with a sudden surge of nerves. He believed in his heart that the other man had meant everything he said yesterday and last night, but couldn't help the nagging fear that Eddie might wake up and take it all back in the light of a new day.

He felt instant guilt for even thinking it, and did his best to push those thoughts away, to not assume the worst, to give Eddie the benefit of the doubt. That’s what they’d promised each other, right? They were going to do better, be better, both of them. 

Before he could turn back he felt the bed dip, and a warm hand came up under his shirt to rest on his lower back, kneading for a moment before slipping down beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, cupping his ass.

“Mmm g’mornin’,’” Eddie hummed, his lips finding their way to Steve’s side with a soft kiss through the cotton.

Steve had never hated a bit of fabric more.  

At the same time Eddie’s hand ventured even lower, until one finger slid between his cheeks, teasing over his hole. Despite himself, and his still swirling thoughts of doubt, Steve arched his back, pressing into the touch a little, always so ready to be filled by any part of Eddie’s body—fingers, tongue, cock, he loved them all.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, he wasn’t so far gone that he forgot where they were, or how thin the walls of the trailer might be. 

Steve took a deep, sobering breath and looked back at Eddie over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t let you blow me last night with your uncle in the other room, did you really think I’d let you fuck me this morning?” 

Eddie grinned, his eyes sparkling with it. “No, but I do love getting you all riled up anyway.”

“Menace.” Steve shook his head and turned back over to face his boyfriend before he lost control and gave in to temptation. 

Eddie wrapped him up in his arms automatically, using one hand to smooth the sleep mussed hair back from his face as they gazed into each other’s bleary eyes. Steve swallowed hard, heart aching with how close he’d come to losing this. 

And something must have shown on his face because Eddie tilted his head, his pleased grin dropping into a small sad smile as he continued to run fingers through Steve’s hair.  “You’re wondering if I still mean it, right? Everything I said yesterday?” 

“I didn’t say–”

Eddie interrupted with a tender kiss to his forehead. “You didn’t have to.” 

“Eddie–”

“Baby, it’s okay. I might be the one always talking about having trust issues and stuff, but I haven't given you a lot of reason to trust me—have I?”

Steve looked away, it was a rhetorical question, which by definition didn’t require an answer but it also felt like a trick or something, and he didn’t know how he was supposed to respond. It should be better now that they’d talked and worked things out, right? So why was he suddenly feeling more insecure than ever?

“Hey,” Eddie said softly, gently coaxing Steve to look at him again. “I knew I'd have to earn it back. I might not have much experience with relationships, but I do know that one conversation, even with those three little words involved, isn’t a magic wand. I hurt you.”

Steve pursed his lips. “I hurt you too.”

“I’m just saying, it’s fair of you to wonder—to be worried. I’m happy to reassure you whenever…”

Eddie leaned in, pressing a series of kisses along the line of Steve’s jaw.

“And however…”

His warm breath ghosted over Steve’s ear as he took the lobe between his teeth.

“You need.”

“I love you,” Steve gasped.

“I love you too.”

In order to avoid another intense make-out session that would only leave them both hard and wanting with no chance of release—or, god forbid, have Steve giving in, begging to be bent over the side of the bed—he insisted they get up and get a move on.

Eddie whined but finally agreed, since he was the one who had insisted on the early wake up call to begin with, wanting to get back early enough to work things out with Chrissy before another night could go by. He was also far too pleased with himself when Steve banished him to the other side of the room while they both stripped down to change. It was only practical since neither of them could seem to keep their hands to themselves right now.

“Do you need to stop for gas or anything before we get on the highway?” Steve asked. “I thought I’d follow you and maybe we could take a look at the map and pick a place to stop for lunch together, stretch our legs and stuff.”

Eddie didn’t answer right away, remaining quiet as he rummaged through his bag, finally pulling a clean t-shirt free from the mess inside and slipping it over his head, jeans already on and zipped up.

“Eddie?”

“Actually, I was thinking, ” Eddie rubbed at the back of his neck, looking suddenly nervous.

Steve held his breath.

“What if I left my van here for now, so we could drive back together?”

Steve’s mouth popped open, eyebrows flying up before he could stop them. “Really? B-but that’s…” He didn’t even know what to say, it was beyond unexpected. 

As casual as can be, as if this wasn’t a huge deal, Eddie sat down on the end of the bed to pull his socks on, glancing up as he said, “I know.”

“Is this just so you can’t run away again?” Steve said it lightly, trying to tease, but in all honesty he wanted to know—needed to know if Eddie had really thought this through. It was sweet, in a way, but he didn’t want the other man to wind up feeling trapped. 

Eddie got up, crossed the room to where Steve stood and took the shirt out of his hand—still so in shock he’d just been standing there half dressed holding it

“Gotta start putting trust into practice sometime.” Eddie said softly, raising the crisp white t-shirt over Steve’s head for him, and pecking him on the nose when it popped through the opening. “And I do trust you. Even if something were to happen between us, I know you would bring me back here if I asked.”

It settled some of Steve's nerves to hear that Eddie knew that and accepted it, because it was the truth. Even if they went down in flames one day, Steve would still do anything for this man.

“Pretty sure Wayne would come get you if you needed him to.”

“And that, yes.” Eddie smiled. “It’s not like I use it much, everything I need is within walking distance of the motel. I can live without it for a bit. Besides, it’ll be worth it to be able to sit next to you for the next however many hours, instead of us both making the drive alone, again.”  

“Okay, if you’re sure. Let’s hit the road.”

Steve worried his lip, sitting behind the wheel of his car, the same BMW he’d had since high school, watching in the rear view mirror as Eddie grabbed a few last things out of his van and jogged back over, tossing it all and his bag on the back seat before sliding into the front.

He was nervous all over again, for an entirely different reason this time as he started the engine and pulled out of the drive, turning left instead of right once they passed the Forest Hills Trailer Park sign.

Eddie didn’t say anything, but eyed him curiously. 

Steve cleared his throat. “I need to make a quick stop by my place on the way out of town. If, uh, if that’s okay?” 

He braced himself, expecting Eddie to ask why, or maybe be annoyed at the extra stop—or the fact that Steve was being a little cagey about the whole thing by not having mentioned it till now—but instead Eddie lit up.

“Sure! I'd love to see where you’re living now. I kinda can’t imagine you anywhere in Hawkins besides school or your parents' old place.”

Steve shuddered. “God, I hated that house.” 

Eddie reached out immediately, a sympathetic look on his face as he placed a hand on Steve's knee, warm and comforting. In their short time together they’d already shared so much about their pasts. Eddie knew all about Steve’s lonely upbringing, and how his parents hadn’t taken kindly to the idea of their only son dating men, something they had found out by accident, and promised to keep secret. Though, Steve suspected that promise had been made solely to save their own reputation, not his, and he’d stopped speaking to them not long after that. Then they’d moved, and hadn’t bothered to leave a forwarding address.  

The little two bedroom house wasn’t far from Wayne’s place. Within minutes they were there, parking just behind the mailbox. 

The outside was nothing special, dingy white siding, browning grass and a barren garden. He hadn’t seen the point in planting anything when he wouldn’t be there all summer to enjoy it, or even water it.

The inside was… also nothing special. Leaving Steve feeling more than a little self conscious as he unlocked the door, ushering Eddie inside. He’d almost forgotten how plain and bare-bones his house was. Sad second hand couch, beige, utilitarian side and coffee tables, a slightly darker shade of beige, and horrible brown carpeting. That one wasn’t his fault though, it’d come with the house.

Nothing hung on his walls. There wasn’t even a single magnet on his fridge, which you could see from the living room because the place was that damn small. The only real signs of life in the space were two framed photos sitting on the table next to the couch. One of him and Robin standing outside her dorm on move-in day, freshman year, the other of his favorite class of middle-schoolers, a group of boys who’d fallen afoul of a few bullies and had trouble fitting in that he’d taken under his wing. They were all in high school now, so he didn't see them much anymore, but he would always remember them fondly.

“How long did you say you’ve been renting this place?” Eddie asked, turning a slow circle, taking it all in—what little there was to take in anyway.

Suddenly embarrassed, Steve wished he’d asked Eddie to wait for him in the car. It all just made him look so… pathetic, and boring, and he didn’t want Eddie to think this is what his life would look like if they stayed together.  

He blew out a long breath. “Three years.”

“Oh.”

“I–uh–I guess I never really settled in or decorated, because I never planned to stay in Hawkins this long in the first place. Like, if I made the house more my own it would be admitting defeat? Or jinxing myself to be stuck here forever.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. I’m not judging you.”

Steve shot him a look.

Eddie raised his hands. “Okay, I was judging a little bit—I’m sorry! It’s just, you deserve so much better than a shit brown rug and blank walls, y’know? You have this great bright personality, and I wish you’d let it show in your own home.”

“When I find a place I actually want to call home, maybe I'll do that.”

Steve’s heart fluttered at the thought of Eddie seeing him that way. He closed the distance between them, their mouths meeting in a furious kiss as he pushed Eddie back until he was forced to sit down on the couch, and climbed into his lap. 

As if just realizing that they were finally alone, with no one potentially eavesdropping from another room, Eddie pulled Steve down into him, their lips meeting again and again while they ground against each other, both already growing hard in their jeans.

Steve gripped at Eddie’s shirt, pulling back just long enough to yank it over his head before taking his own off too, tossing them both to the floor. He needed this, needed Eddie’s bare skin against his. Words were lovely, but they’d always communicated best with their bodies. Eddie had said he loved him, now Steve wanted to feel it, wanted Eddie to mark it into his flesh—was desperate for it. 

“Wanna ride you.” Steve gasped out as Eddie began to nip and suck at his neck. 

“Gonna need a little less clothes for that, sweetheart.” Eddie reached around Steve’s back, running the tip of his finger along the seam in the ass of his jeans. Steve shuddered, feeling a wave of heat, breaking out in goosebumps all over. 

He stood, eyes never wavering from Eddie’s as he undid his fly, pushing his jeans to the floor in one smooth motion and stepped out of them, while Eddie did the same, raising his hips so he could shove his own pants down to his ankles.

Steve climbed back on top, sighing happily at finally having all of Eddie bare under his touch again. They’d done little more than kiss yet and he was already almost painfully hard, but so was Eddie, both groaning when their hard lengths slid against each other—and when Eddie tapped at his lips with two fingers, Steve didn’t hesitate to take them into his mouth, running his tongue between the digits until they were coated in his spit. 

Once satisfied that they were wet enough, Eddie pulled his fingers out from between Steve’s lips, replacing them with his tongue, fucking it into Steve’s mouth as he did the same to his hole, pressing one finger inside to the knuckle right away, neither having the patience for teasing.

“More,” Steve demanded after a whopping thirty seconds. Usually he was more than happy to let Eddie take his time, prep him slowly until he thought he would lose his mind, but after denying themselves last night, and again this morning, Steve was feeling nothing short of insane already. He didn’t care if it hurt, he just needed Eddie inside him as soon as possible. 

Eddie must have felt it too because he didn’t argue, just worked a second finger in next to the first, scissoring them as soon as he could to speed the process up, as hungry for this as Steve was. 

It burned, but not in a bad way, if anything the pain was feeding his desire for the man beneath him. 

“Please,” Steve begged, as soon as he was loose enough that Eddie could move freely in and out of him. “I’m ready–”

“Okay, baby, I’ve got you–I’ve got you. Do you have lube somewhere? Condoms?”

And Steve really needed to calm down because he hadn’t even thought about it—was ready to just sink down on Eddie bare with nothing but spit slicking him, without hesitation.

“When did you get tested last?” He asked, panting. Apart from his failed hookup with Danny, Steve hadn’t been with anyone since the last time he’d been given a clean bill of health, and if Eddie was clean too maybe they could just—

“Not recently enough to be safe.” Eddie said quickly, not pulling his fingers out but halting their movement. “And I won’t risk you like that, sweetheart. We can do something else.”

Steve whined. 

“No, I've got some in the bedroom. I just–” He rocked back, eyes falling shut as he fucked himself gently on Eddie’s still fingers. “I wanna feel you, really feel you. Want you to come inside me.”

“Fuck, Steve.” Eddie’s hips rolled as he took a ragged breath. “Bedroom, alright, hold onto me.”

Confused, Steve still did what he asked, gripping Eddie around the shoulders, fighting off another whine as the fingers inside him gently slid out. But then Eddie’s hands were gripping him under the thighs and he was being lifted. He gasped, hooking his legs around Eddie's waist.

Thankfully, Steve’s bedroom was the first door on the right, across from what was obviously a bathroom, so It was easy enough for Eddie to find his way without direction, and once they were near enough Eddie threw him down on the bed. 

Steve blinked up at him, mouth half open. “That was so fucking hot.”

“Glad you think so.” Eddie swooped down, pecking him on the mouth as he grabbed his side, grimacing. “But don’t expect a repeat performance, I think I pulled something.”

Steve grinned, Eddie was clearly faking it but he would play along for now—he’d also be filing this information away for later use. He knew the other man was stronger than he looked, but hauling racks of bar glasses was clearly a better workout than he’d thought. 

“Aww, why don't you just come lay down then and let me do the rest of the work.”

Steve went for his nightstand drawer while Eddie crawled on hands and knees up the bed, sitting himself up against the headboard.

Just like they’d been on the couch, Steve straddled Eddie's lap, capturing his lips in another deep kiss as he rolled the condom on, spread a bit of lube over him, and finally, finally, positioned himself above and started to sink down on Eddie’s cock, leaning in till their foreheads touched.

“When we get back would you–” Steve sucked in a breath as he bottomed out only to raise right back up again, giving himself no time to adjust. “C-could we get tested and then–”

“Yes,” Eddie breathed, bucking his hips as Steve rode, bouncing up and down, low guttural sounds being punched out of him with every thrust. “Fuck—yes, yes to all of that.”

It wasn’t long before Steve was coming untouched, making a mess of both of them, too worked up to last. Eddie went right behind him, spilling into the condom while Steve was still clenching around him.

With trembling thighs, Steve raised up, wincing at the sudden empty feeling, and took care of the condom before collapsing beside Eddie to cuddle while he waited for his limbs to feel less like jello.

“As much as I’d love to lay here with you all day, and maybe do that again, we should probably get going.” Steve said eventually.

Eddie made a very unhappy sound that Steve wholeheartedly agreed with, but they both got up anyway and stumbled into the small bathroom, taking turns swiping a wet washcloth over the other's chest.

When they were as clean as they were going to get without showers, Eddie ducked out of the room to grab their clothes, turning to the mirror while he waited, admiring the flush of his skin along with a few very faint but very much there bite marks Eddie had left for him on his neck like little gifts. 

Eddie was back seconds later, appearing in the doorway with his pants already back on slung low around his hips, belt still hanging loose.

Steve frowned.

“Don’t pout, we can’t drive around naked—decency laws.” Eddie shook his head, chuckling as he handed Steve the pile of his clothes.

“Fine.” Steve grumbled playfully, watching Eddie shake his hair out and re-do his bun in the mirror while he got dressed.

“Hey, so what was it you needed to stop for anyway? Or was that just an excuse to bring me here and have your way with me?” Eddie asked when they were both presentable for public consumption again, waggling his eyebrows.

Steve froze. He’d known the question was inevitable, but he’d let himself get lost in Eddie’s body and almost forgotten why they were here.  

The answer caught in his throat. He was about to shine a giant spotlight on the one thing they had yet to address about this whole situation—the fact that the Summer was going to end eventually, and they would both, presumably, need to resume their normal lives—that they might have put each other through all of this for something with a rapidly approaching expiration date.

This was it though, Steve’s turn to put trust into practice, as Eddie had put it. He could not keep something this big to himself again, even if it meant having a conversation they maybe weren’t ready for just yet.

He took Eddie’s hand and led him down the hall into the spare bedroom that doubled as his office, sitting him down on the small guest bed while he rifled through his desk, and pulled out an accordion binder full of papers. 

“My resume and teaching certificate—some other paperwork.” Steve tapped the binder against his leg nervously as he spoke. “I know we haven't talked about what happens after this, when the clock runs out and Summer ends, but um, I want to tell you how my own plans have changed.” 

Steve's heart raced. He took a deep breath as he set the paperwork down on top of the desk, and crossed the room to sit next to Eddie.

“There's an open position at the Elementary School in the motel’s district. Robin told me before the Summer even started, so, I was already considering it. I mean, there’s nothing keeping me here. I’m ready to leave Hawkins behind, and why wouldn't I want to be closer to her? But finding out the motel was in trouble was the last straw. Why keep paying rent to some random asshole in this backwoods town when I could be paying that same rent to two of my best friends to help them stay afloat?”

“You’re moving into the motel permanently?” Eddie’s tone was almost excruciatingly neutral, giving nothing away about what he might be thinking or feeling… about any part of it. 

Steve nodded. “Technically I still have to hand in my resume and be interviewed, but I've spoken to the superintendent and she said it’s just a formality at this point. The job is mine if I want it.”

Eddie didn’t say anything more when he was done. Not that he needed to say anything, but it was nerve wracking as hell. Steve turned, drawing his leg up onto the mattress so he could fully face Eddie and took hold of both his hands, fighting to look the other man in the eyes and not shy away. 

“Let me be completely clear, because I don’t want there to be any more misunderstandings between us. I don’t know what your plans are, or were, and I’m not pressuring you to change them, but I would love it if you decided to stay too when the season is over.”

Eddie dropped his gaze suddenly, looking down at their tangled hands with a furrowed brow for a moment before raising his head again. 

As much as Steve wanted an answer, to know what Eddie was thinking right now, this wasn’t the same as agreeing to leave a car behind temporarily. This was big plans for the future shit, and Steve was acutely aware that Eddie didn’t usually make a habit of staying in the same place for very long.

“You don't have to say or decide anything right now. In fact, please don’t. Just… think about it?”

Eddie opened his mouth as if he were going to say something anyway, but in the end just nodded, squeezing Steve’s hands and simply whispered, “okay.”

Eddie remained quiet and thoughtful for the first hour or so of the drive, staring out the window at the world going by with an unreadable expression on his face. It wasn’t exactly an uncomfortable silence, but it wasn’t comfortable either, to Steve at least, and the only thing keeping him from spiraling was Eddie’s hand on his thigh, his thumb moving back and forth in reassuring strokes.

It wasn't until they stopped for gas, Eddie going into the little shop to stock them up on drinks and snacks while Steve filled the tank, that the whisper of tension in the air started to dissipate. It got even better when Steve suggested now might be the perfect time for Eddie to give him the musical education he was supposedly in desperate need of. 

Eddie jumped at the opportunity immediately, pulling a small cardboard box up front that he’d taken out of the van, which Steve had seen of course, and began rifling through his collection of tapes.

They started out easy with Metallica, something Eddie thought Steve might actually like, and Steve was only a little surprised to find he did, and that he’d even heard one of the songs before—Enter Sandman, it was getting a lot of play on the radio these days. 

For hours Eddie played song after song for him—a few Steve knew, a lot he didn’t—but even if some of them were a little too hard for his tastes, he was happy to listen anyway, and even happier to let Eddie regale him with stories about each band. 

Sometimes he’d talk about seeing a group live, what city it had been in, how he’d had to fight his way through the pit, stuff like that. Other times he’d dish out gossip about the band members themselves. Like how Ozzy Osborne had been fired from Black Sabbath, replaced by Ronnie James Dio—who then left himself to form his own band and created one of Eddie’s favorite albums of all time. 

And maybe Steve didn’t get metal, but he loved a bit of second hand drama.  

They stopped again in the afternoon, well past lunchtime but too early for dinner, so they had no trouble snagging a picnic table for themselves at a rest stop to have a break from the road and eat their fast food burgers together in the sun.

On the way back to the car Steve tossed his keys to Eddie and walked himself over to the passenger side of the BMW. 

Eddie gaped. “But you don’t let anyone drive your car.”

“You’re not just anyone.”

“Steve Harrington, did you just use a line on me?”

“Did it work?”

Eddie pulled his tongue between his teeth. “I dunno, it was pretty weak. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Steve didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until the car shut off, the soothing hum of the engine going quiet abruptly.

“Hey, sweetheart. We’re here.”

He blinked his eyes open, rubbing at them and stretching before undoing his seat belt. “‘M sorry, didn’t mean to drop off on you.”

“You were tired, it’s been a long few days.”

They were parked in the motel lot, facing the front office and Steve could see Robin and Chrissy through the window, standing behind the desk. It didn’t look like they’d noticed his car pull up. 

Eddie blew out a long breath, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “So, on a scale of one to ten, how worried do I need to be about Robin trying to assassinate me? Am I going to get a warning and a last meal before I'm executed, or do I need to start sleeping with my eyes open?”

Steve patted his leg and got out of the car without a word, walking slowly towards the building. He smiled to himself, holding in a laugh as he heard Eddie scrambling along behind him. 

“Steve?” Eddie called out, sounding legitimately nervous at the idea of facing his best friend's wrath.

Steve lost it, cackling, and kept walking ahead. 

“Why are you laughing?!” Eddie hissed. “What does that mean—Steeeeve?”

Eddie caught up just as Steve reached the door. Instead of reaching for the handle he decided to put the other man out of his misery and turned, taking Eddie’s hand as he leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. “She’ll have to get through me first. Don’t worry, I'll protect you from the big bad lesbian.”

Robin looked up as soon as they came through the door and rushed out from behind the counter.

“Well, I’d ask how it went, but you’re both here, and–” She gestured at their linked hands.

“Robin, who are you–” Chrissy came out from her office in the back, eyes going wide when she spotted them all standing together in the lobby. “You’re back!” She shouted, and came flying out from behind the counter to throw herself into Eddie’s arms. 

“I’m sorry.” She cried as Eddie pulled her into his chest.

“We,” Robin cut in, biting her lip. “we’re sorry for lying about the room and setting you two up. It wasn’t our place… and maybe not our best idea.”

“It’s okay. Not that I'm condoning your act of trickery but…” Eddie glanced at Steve, a crooked smile on his face as he rocked Chrissy back and forth in his arms. “I suppose in this one instance even I have to admit it worked out. And… I’m sorry I went through your stuff.”

Steve threw his arm over Robin's shoulder, both of them watching on fondly as their significant others made up. 

Chrissy shook her head, wiping her eyes on Eddie’s shirt. “I don’t care about that. I shouldn’t have been trying to keep it a secret—not from Robin and not from you. I just thought I could handle it on my own and not worry anyone else, but I got in over my head.”

Eddie pulled back to look at her, gripping her firmly by the shoulders. “You know I love you, right? I’ll do anything I can to help—and in case I never said it, I’m so fucking proud of you and the life you’ve made for yourself, from going to college and graduating to opening this place. You don’t have anything to prove to me or anyone else.”

Chrissy beamed. “I love you too.”

Steve tried to hold it in but a yawn forced its way out of his mouth. It was getting late and even after his car nap he was beat—he also had to be back on the beach again first thing in the morning for a shift. 

Chrissy finally let Eddie go, giving him a little push. “Go take your man to bed.”

Robin snorted. 

“Not like that!” Chrissy giggled, face turning beet red. “He’s tired!”

“Hey, so I know you two made up and all,” Robin began, switching the lights off as they all went for the door. “But now that it’s all out in the open—if you, uh, wanted your own rooms..?”

The question hung in the air as Steve looked at Eddie, leaving the decision to him. 

“Thanks, but I think we’ll stay together.”

Chapter 11

Special thanks to @penny00dreadful for being the best beta, friend and cheerleader.

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[itsohh]

As One

A/N: Female reader. This is an alternative branch in my vampire AU series to the fic 'My Perfect Girl'. Or rather that fic is the alternative branch as this is the main branch? Thats the Graves route and this is a continuation of the I guess 141 branch. I orginally wrote this back in April and was always on the fence about posting it if I wanted to make all the relationships a branch situation like Graves or a poly situation. Then overall I wasn't ever quite happy with the lack of action in this but I wanted to post something on my birthday a couple of days back but busy. Anyway, heres to that.

Summary: Stuck at Los Vaqueros base, you had one chance to escape when all the shadows turned on you and the rest of your allies. With the help of Rudy you manage to get away and reflect on the days events, hoping to see your lovers again.

Word count: 4382

Warnings: smut, blood kink

AO3 Series Masterlist

Despite the constant anxieties that had settled into your mind, you managed to grow comfortable with Rudy. Perhaps he was naturally kind and comforting or perhaps he knew those feelings that plagued your mind. They weren't something new of course, whenever you saw any of the boys go out for a mission you couldn't help that gnawing sensation inside of you. It came with territory. It had something that had formed over time. 

You could still recall back to when you first started being their handler, it was never there. Perhaps it's because of all the missions you did with Price and Gaz, you were able to be there in person to see to their safety. Or perhaps it was simply because of how much you grew to care for all of them. 

Either way, you knew that being in person wouldn't help. Not this time. You were called when needed and being there without would only be a hindrance. Rudy was a good distraction regardless, they wouldn't be gone forever. Only a few hours. With that much firepower, you were sure how they could lose. 

“Soap speaks highly of you,” Rudy spoke as he poured you a class of cola. The pair of you were in a small kitchen separate from the main cafeteria.

“I swear no one gossips like your kind.” You muttered and he laughed. You had encountered teammates in the past who gossiped but no one gossiped like vampires. 

“I assure you it was less gossiping and more gushing if anything. Soap was like a high school boy and Ghost? Ghost seemed rather protective I don't think he let Soap mention you at all once the Shadows showed up.”

You rolled your eyes and brought the glass to your lips. Rudy looked off to the side for a moment in thought. “I suppose I can't say much, Alejandro's rather similar.” 

“Yes yes we all saw the eye sex you two were having in the five minutes I was with the pair of you.” You said. 

Rudy let out a cough and rubbed his face in embarrassment. “I admit I thought my feelings would have died down over the years but they have not.”

You looked down at the glass. That feeling deep inside felt stronger than normally a gut feeling that something was going to happen despite all the logical factors saying otherwise. 

“It must be overwhelming at times to be the mate of two vampires let alone being human.”

“Uh- three.” 

Rudy cocked a brow in question. 

“Another operator in 141, Gaz. It's like a separate relationship.”

“Separate?”

“Well, it's Soap, Ghost and I then there's Gaz and I.” 

“Ah, I understand. It makes sense, lives can be so short and if they all care for you why not share?” 

You closed your eyes as his words sunk in. Your life was so incredibly short compared to theirs. A shaky breath left your mouth and you desperately pushed those thoughts down. Now was not the time to have that kind of existential crisis. 

“I apologize, I didn't mean anything by that.” Rudy quickly spoke, not oblivious to the effect they had on you. 

“It's fine. Just a lot on my mind.”

“How about I walk you back to your room, some rest might do you good. I promise to wake you up when they get back.”

You nodded and stood up from the stool. “Yeah that sounds good-”

Your voice was interrupted by a shout down the walkway. Both your heads whipped towards the sound. Rudy was faster than you but the both of you peeked out of the door to see a pair of Shadows holding a Vaquero at gunpoint. 

"The fuck are you doing gringo?!”

“Nobody has to get hurt, just follow us.”

“What the hell you mean?”

“Graves’s orders. You're going with the rest.” 

The pair of you ducked back and looked each other in the eyes. “They're rounding up all your people.”

“From the sound of it, Graves has taken control of the base.” Rudy furrowed his brows as he spoke. 

“Fuck. Who the fuck does he think he is? That shit’s not legal.”

“Graves is not a man to care if something is legal or not.” 

You glanced towards the door and then scanned the room with your eyes. “We have to get out of here, where does that window lead?” You gestured to the windows at the top of the room. While they were high up, it was certainly possible for you to climb on the counters and escape. 

“It leads outside, we can go down between the buildings. It's dark so we should have cover.” Rudy locked the door and was quick to climb up to the window and open it. 

He climbed out and you promptly followed him. Rudy waited and braced your drop but you were quick to start moving. In a crouched manner, the pair of you crept down. Through the cracks of the buildings you could hear the Shadows round up everyone. Rudy let out a small curse and you glanced at him. 

“Graves won't get away with this.” You promised. 

“We have to get out first before we think about Graves.” He focused on the fence up ahead. You removed your jacket and as you both got close, you threw it up on the top of it to protect you. 

“Here I'll give-” Rudy’s voice was cut off as you charged at the fence and scaled it with expert ease. You dropped over to the other side and broke your fall with a roll. When you looked back you saw Rudy jump down with the bend of his knees. 

“Didn't expect that.” He chuckled and the pair of you started to run.

“I wouldn't be of much use in the CIA if a big wall could stop me.”

“Ah, that's where the Agent title comes from.”

“Mhmm, used to do your usual shit. Espionage, spying et cetera et cetera.” Rudy took the lead and you ran quickly behind him. 

“Why did you stop?” 

“It wasn't because I was bad if that's what you’re wondering.” You joked and gave him a weak smile to try and break the tension. “Originally I thought it was because I didn't like the field but after a while of being a desk jockey, I realized I missed it. I missed working with people. Real people not fucking bureaucracy day in and day out. Laswell's offer was a good one, despite its struggles it's a position I'm glad I accepted. Don't tell the boys but I think I wanted to quit being in the field because I was just lonely.”

“The life of a spy is not a pleasant one.”

You had worried your confession about your past would cast suspicion, that your spy past would paint you as perhaps a spy against again him but when Rudy looked back at you in the moonlight, you didn't find any concern. 

“Come on.” He smiled. “I know a safe house.”

-

Eventually, your chatter died down and as the pair of you jogged (for your sake) you couldn't help but play the previous forty-eight hours in front of your eyes. From the moment that Laswell spoke to you to that moment. Did she know you would end up in that situation when she had spoken to you that morning?

-

“How's your Spanish?” Laswell asked. 

“So-so. Good enough.” You answered. 

“Excellent, you're going with Soap and Ghost to Las Almas.”

“Mexico?”

“I'll be with Gaz and Price. They should be relatively well stocked there but I have to warn you. You will be in contact with a lot of vampire kind.”

“I will?”

“Los Vaqueros is what the team you will be meeting is called. Colonel Alejandro Varges is old blood. Very old.”

“Should I be on my best behaviour then?”

“He's a friend, you shouldn't have any worries about him or his mate, Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra. It's who else aside from them that is there that's important.”

“Who else?”

“Glad you asked.” The pair of you left the elevator and continued her fast pace. “You will be working with Shadow Company. Shepherd's favourite PMC. Commander Phillip Graves runs it-”

“Phillip Graves as in-”

“Yes, yes fill up graves.” She waved her hand. “He's new blood. Think about Soap's age. Graves turns a lot of his higher-ranking officers. It's amazing how he can have so many in line and I have to commend him for it. But it's still a lot of our kind in one spot.”

“I'll keep my eye out. Will I be in combat?”

“No, just your usual posting.” She paused. “I recommend against allowing the boys whatever Graves is feeding his team.”

“You don't trust Graves?”

“I don't trust most people. Alejandro is someone I do trust. Tensions may be high, he hides it well but he hates Americans.”

“Why bring Shadow Company at all?” You asked. 

“Shepherd was insistent on the support. He said it was to get around the red tape.” You could see there was something off about her eyes. She wasn't happy. Laswell abruptly stopped walking and turned to face you. “That's why I want you there. Look after them.” 

“Yes ma’am.”

-

As the conversation died from your thoughts you close your eyes. Your mind went back to the two men. Where were they? Were they safe? If Graves had orders on the base what was he doing in person? How would they react? How would Alejandro act? Was Ghost and Soap even still alive? Surely they wouldn't stand for what Grave was pulling. 

The thought of them gone plagued your mind, it pierced your heart and you swallowed briefly as you thought back to the last time you properly had seen them, not the brief moments you had when they brought in Valeria.

It had to be on the transport ride over. 

-

Admittedly you were a little late for the flight but the pilots were on orders not to leave without you. An operator in the cargo hold helped you on board and closed the bay behind you before he radioed to the pilot. 

You had changed out of your office ‘uniform’ into something far more practical. Despite being on base the entire time it wouldn't hurt to have a good pair of shoes on.

“Agent! Didn't realize you were tagging along.” Soaps hand slapped on your shoulder. One would think you would have become used to the boys appearing out of nowhere but no, your heart still jumped.

“Yeah, Laswell wants me to make sure you two don't get into any trouble.”

“What? Us? In trouble?” Soaps' voice was a tease. 

Ghost approached the pair of you. His massive stature loomed in a way that would have anyone shit the bed. Yet you stood there nonchalantly and looked him in the eye. 

“Ghost.”

“Agent.”

“Heard Alejandro is an old friend.”

“Right with that one. Old as they come. Has a good heart, not many men like him anymore.”

“Shadow Company?” You prompted. 

“Worked with them a few times, rich boys with a lot of toys. There's been a lot of discussion about creating a vampire army but he hasn't broken any law as far as we know.” Ghost leaned against the cargo next to you. 

“Hmm. Vargas will be supplying the pair of you. No taking anything from the Shadows.”

Soap cocked a brow. “That's an order.” Your face grew serious and the two vampires exchanged a look. It was very rare that you ever made an order. You could probably count on one hand how many times you could. 

“Understood.” Soap nodded and you allowed your body to relax. 

“Good. Now that's out of the way I'm off to take a nap. Wake me up when we get close.” 

It was dawn when you landed with the rest. Sleep was still on your mind but after a few moments you collected yourself. “Fuck me Agent I don't think I've ever seen you go to sleep that quickly.” Soap smiled, he had been the one to wake you. 

“It's been a long couple of days. I gotta get some sleep when I can.” You stretched. You picked up your bag and slung it over your shoulder before you followed Soap down to the cargo hold. 

“First time I've been to Mexico.” He admitted as the door started to open. 

“Well it's a lil hot but there's no yellow filters here.” 

His head glanced to the sky. “Ghosts going to hate it.”

“Talking about me are we Johnny?” Ghost appeared behind the pair of you with a scowl in his voice. 

“Just talkin’ ‘bout the weather sir.”

“Hmm.” Ghost glanced at the repair of you and continued down the ramp. 

“He's like this in Urzikstan too. Hot weather's got his knickers in a twist.” Soap winked. 

“SOAP.”

Soap made a demonstration to zip his lips and hurried after the man. At a leisurely pace, you followed them. 

“Ah Ghost, good to see you again!” A new voice came and you watched as the man gave him a half hug. 

“Alejandro.”

“Wish it could only be in better circumstances. This must be your mate.” Alejandro's eyes turned to Soap. 

“One of them.” Soap grinned. “Got the other-”

“Johnny!” Ghosts cut him off and Alejandro chuckled as you found your place behind them. Alejandro was quick to spot you and as his gaze lingered would couldn't help but almost shiver at it. Oh, he was a powerful man. There was an aura about him that had your heart race and your breath hitch. 

All the hair on your body stood up as he was the only person in the world. You were a minuscule atom compared to his large stature. He could crush you like an ant under his finger, he-

“You must be their handler.” Just like that, the feeling was gone, cleared by his warm and welcoming voice. “Laswell spoke well of you, it's a pleasure Agent-”

“Agent is fine.” You smiled and he nodded.

“I'll introduce you to our quartermaster in a moment. For now allow me to welcome you to Las Almas, my home.”

-

Alejandro had welcomed you in like family. He had allowed Graves and you all in. This is how he was repaid. Graves tuning in his and stealing his home. Reflection finished, you were glad you took a nap earlier. It allowed you to have energy as you continued to jog with Rudy in the middle of the night. 

Despite being in the middle of nowhere, Rudy slowed down to a stop. You cocked a brown when he turned to face you. 

“Take a break for a couple.”

“I'm fine, let's keep going.” 

Rudy looked like he wanted to argue but he nodded and the pair of you pressed onwards.

-

It has been at least an hour, possibly two hours before you reached what most would have described as an abandoned old shack. You weren't most. Rudy led you in safely but he didn't turn the lights on. He wandered further in and returned with two rifles. There was certainly more to the safehouse than met the eye.

His voice was quiet and gestured towards a ladder for you to climb. “If anyone else made it out they would come here. But stay on your guard.” 

Time ticked away and the pair of you spent it whispering to each other until he held his finger up to his lips. There was something he could hear that you couldn't. Rudy's finger flicked towards the window and you readied the pistol that had been strapped to your leg. 

A figure dropped down the window and you saw Rudy's laser hover over them. A knife flicked through the window as you heard his voice. 

“Ghost.” You spoke and his head snapped up to your location. They both did. 

Ghosts' shoulders slacked as you jumped down and Soap intercepted you with a hug. 

“Rudy.” Ghost's eyes found the other man's.

“Thank God you're okay.” Soaps' voices slurred in your ear and you pulled back a little. 

“Is he okay?” You asked Ghost and he shook his head once. 

“I'll be okay.” Soap muttered and pulled back. 

“He took a shotgun to the side, he will heal but it will take time.” Ghost turned his focus to Rudy. “Are there any packs here?”

“We have everything but that. You can't store them for long periods so we don't keep them in safe houses.” 

“I'll be fine.”

“Need you to be more than fine.” Ghost helped Soap over to the side. 

“I'm just happy our girl’s okay. Fuck when Graves said they had you…” His eyes went to Rudy's. “Pretty happy Rudy's okay too.”

Rudy chuckled and placed his hand on Soap's shoulder. “She's your mate. I know she's your first priority.” 

Your eyes locked on with Ghosts as the pair of you silently communicated. The wound was far worse than Soap was letting up. If Ghost was asking for a pack that meant Soap needed blood to heal up. 

Your eyes closed for a moment. One day you were going to really get sick of being everyone's blood bag. As Soap and Rudy spoke, you sat down next to Soap. His eyes landed on you as you offered him your wrist. 

“Come on, heal up.” 

“Are you sure?” Soap took your arm like you were made of glass. He rotated his body to face you directly. Your arm turned so that the back of it faced you and the underside of your wrist faced him. 

“I'll check the perimeter.” You heard Rudy speak but you didn't take your eyes off Soap. 

“This might hurt a little,” Soap warned a second before his mouth made contact with your wrist. A small cry left you as his two canines sunk into your skin. Unlike Ghosts, his teeth felt far larger. Half a second later Soap started to suck. His eyes closed and you swore he moaned into you. 

With a sudden push of power, Johnny pushed you onto your back by your wrist. He climbed onto you, his knees on the side of your thighs as he ground his hard cock against you. 

Your eyes grew wide in surprise and you heard Ghost's gruff voice. “Enough Johnny.” 

It took a couple of seconds but Soap pulled back with delight in his eyes. 

“Did you really get hard from-” Soap cut off your voice as his lips smashed against your own. The taste of your blood filled your senses. It was a metallic taste that died down as his tongue ravished your own. 

Your bloodied wrist hung over his shoulder while his hands started to feel up your body. His hands found your thighs, your ass, your breasts. Like a child in a candy store, he couldn't decide on what he wanted more. You tore your lips from his and gasped out for air but he didn't stop. Johnny placed west kisses next to your mouth and then trailed down to your neck. 

A sharp pain had you cry out once again and then Soap was gone. 

You blinked a couple of times to see Ghost with an unimpressed expression on his face. Your hand went to the side of your neck to feel a small amount of blood that had pooled in his bite. 

“I told you enough.” 

Soap had a blissful drugged-out look on his face as he grinned. 

“Mm got a little carried away. My bad.” 

Your eyes went to his side to see that his body had knitted itself back together like brand new. His raging hard-on was still rather predominant. 

“Johnny gets a little excited from real blood. Forgive him.” Ghost growled, his disapproval obvious.

“God, she tastes so good. Fuck Ghost-”

“I know. Control yourself.”

Soap blinked a couple of times and his head finally turned to look at Ghost. “You know?”

“Had a close call a while back. Was shot in the head, she nearly got herself killed.” Ghosts' eyes met yours.

“You never told me.” Soap sobered up a little. 

“Wasn't important. It was a while ago, back when she first started working with us.” Ghost let go of the cuff of Johnny's shirt and went to investigate the bites on your body. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“I'm okay, a little woozy but I'll be okay.”

“Good- we'll need you to get Alejandro back.”

-

You spent most of the planning phase seated. Despite being focused on the plan, everyone always kept an eye on you. There was a guilt that had formed in Soap's eyes. Reality had impacted him. Yet the matter went unaddressed. 

“You're sure you're okay to do this?” Soap asked as everyone geared up. 

“You didn't take that much, relax Johnny. I'm good as new.”

“I-”

“Really Soap, I wouldn't have offered it if I minded it.” You punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Come on, let's get everyone back.”

-

“It's kinda weird to see you all geared up.” Soap spoke as the group of you walked. 

“In a bad way?” You cocked a brow. 

“Nah. Makes you feel like you're part of the family.” He winked and you rolled your eyes. 

“It's a little heavier than what I'm used to but I'll adapt.”

“What are you used to?” Rudy asked. 

“Suits and light vests.” You looked down at the automatic rifle in your possession. “Pistols.”

“Stakes.” Ghost added and your eyes shot towards his direction. 

-

“You've been bit.” It was the first thing Price said directly to you as everyone settled back at the safe house. 

“Soap got peakish.”

“Soap?” He rubbed his beard. “‘Suppose it makes sense with your relationship and all. Surprised you lot had the time.” He nodded in thought. 

“Huh?”

Your confusion directed his attention onto you and he chuckled. “Been around that boy long enough to know what he's like with human blood. I don't think I have to talk to you of all people about being focused on the job, try to keep it in your pants-”

“-Soap was injured.” The words tumbled from your mouth in an instant. You were rather unaware of Soaps' reputation. 

“Ah.” Price reached into his jacket and pulled out a cigar before it slipped between his lips. “Of course.” 

He felt for his light but you were faster. Automatically you had pulled out your own and flicked it on. Price nodded to you and leaned over to light up the cigar. For a moment the pair of your eyes met and something unspeakable was said. 

Eventually, he spoke up once again. “Good to have you back safe, Agent.”

“Good to be in safe company, sir.”

“We’ll get Graves for this.”

“And Shepard?” 

“Shepard too. Go retire for the night, you deserve the rest.”

-

A yawn left your open mouth as you slogged back to your dorm. Now that your guard was down everything seemed to catch up and you could feel the exhaustion that had crawled into every inch of your body. 

The door which you opened wasn't to your own room but Ghosts. They had retired far earlier than you had. Two sets of eyes fell on you. Both of them were partially naked. Soap's shirt was missing and his pants were pushed down to his ankles. His face was buried into the pillow, only turned to the side to look at you. Soap’s ass was up in the air and Ghost's cum had coated it which gave it a slight shine as Ghost cleaned the man up. 

Ghost was also void of any shirt and while his belt was missing he still had pants on. Only his softening cock was pulled out and casually hung out of his pants. 

“Where have you been?” Soap practically whined out, his eyes licked up the sight of you and Ghost gave his ass a decent slap. The sound vibrated off the walls and mixed with the purr of a moan that left Soap's lips. 

“Talked to Gaz for a bit but also had to give both Laswell and Price a proper report on everything.” 

You rubbed your eye with the back of your hand and went to remove your jacket. Something changed in Soap's eyes and his eyes softened. He sat up from his position and fully removed the pants from his ankles. Soap grabbed a pair of boxers and slipped them on as you dressed down and found one of Ghost's shirts. 

“C’mere.” 

“Mmm don't let me disrupt you.” You yawned and lazily stripped from your clothes. 

“You're tired, come on.” Soap pulled you into his chest where he kissed the top of your head.  

“I'll be fine just-” Again you yanked but this time it cut off your sentence. Soap led you onto the bed where Ghost had changed up his position. No longer was his cock in view but tucked back into his briefs. 

“Your guys didn't have to stop on my account. I've slept through worse.” You found your spot in between the two men and Ghost gladly accepted you when your face snuggled up to his bare chest. 

Neither of them replied right away, instead Ghost wrapped an arm around you and pressed his lips to your head. The heat from Soap's body warmed your back as he buried his face against your neck, completely pressed flush against you. 

“Going to be in debt to Rudy for the rest of our lives,” Soap mumbled. 

“Hmm?” 

“He kept you safe.” Ghost clarified. 

“I like to think it was a joint effort. If the Shadows wanted to take us then they shouldn't have made such a racket.” 

Despite your voice being muffled by Ghost's chest both of the men could hear you rather clearly and you could feel Soap shake as he laughed. You turned your head so only half of your face was pressed against him. “Besides we got Alejandro back, right? I think that is sufficient enough payback.” 

“She's got a point LT.”

“Hmm.” Ghost looked down at you but didn't say a proper word. Instead, he tightened his grip on you. Soap’s hand found its way into yours and you gave it a small weak squeeze. Your eyes closed and your breath steaded, safe in your lover's arms.

[dluebirb]

So. ABOUT THAT FIC I PROMISED-

In my defence I got invited to a social function with people I want to be around, so what else was I supposed to do-

minor setbacks.

uhhh @justletmereadmycomics @fanatess @theosb0rnway you guys usually like this stuff?? Here ya go lol

This is part of my Cardinal Rules series, but you don't have to read it to make sense of this! Barely. If you want to get caught up on it, it is over here on Ao3!

Fic link on Ao3: Here

----

The Housing Situation

Mikey’s POV

Mikey had recently concluded that living off warm, half-melted food in a tank was not optimal sustenance.

Don’t get him wrong, Mikey was overjoyed to have any food, given that the entire kitchen was barren, but only so much could be done with fruit snacks, pop tarts, and granola bars. He had a sinking feeling that with another meal, somebody might puke, and he wouldn’t blame them. Meals were always after training, anyway.

“What’s on the menu t’night, Miguel?” Leo asked, sheathing his twin katana and stretching on his tiptoes.

“If you say anything involving fruit snacks for the next month, I swear—” Casey Senior growled.

“Well, we don’t not have fruit snacks?”

Casey Senior grumbled, and Donnie’s mouth became a line.

“I’m getting fast food!” April decided and stuck her bat into her bag, zipping it up and slinging one strap over her shoulder.

“Yay, April!” Leo cheered and raised an arm, still holding one of his swords, into the air.

“Anyone got a request?”

“Anywhere but Wendy’s,” Donnie grumbled.

“Starbucks.”

“We’re not getting JUST Starbucks!” April groaned. “I’ll just raid Fred Meyers. Text me if you want anything specific.”

“No cold stuff unless you can buy a cooler!” Splinter reminded her.

April gave a thumbs-up as she stuck her phone in her pocket. “Be back in forty-five minutes, tops. If I’m not, then I’m probably dying.”

“April!”

“It’s a joke!” she reassured as she ascended the stairs to the outside world.

----

By April's return, Donnie was konked out on the couch, battle shell discarded on the ground next to him.

The small spines on his shell were finally uncompressed and puffed out a bit, no longer flattened to the rest of his shell. Soft snores occasionally came from the vicinity, face twitching slightly as Mikey undid his mask, removed his goggles, and set them aside.

“Yeah, baby!” Mikey cheered quietly with a giant grin as he saw April’s bags.

“Everyone say ‘Thank you, April,’” Splinter instructed them from where he was rifling through what little they did have.

A chorus of ‘thank you April’s rang around the room, and she put the bags down on the remnants of a broken table with a soft thud.

“Yo, Dee! Donnie. Wake up, bro,” Leo muttered, poking their purple brother insistently until the soft snores turned to a singular grunt.

“Nardo.”

“April brought food.”

“Finally! Some good news!”

“You’re welcome, Dee!” April called, cupping a hand around her mouth.

“Yes, yes, thank you, and such,” Donnie muttered, not quietly as he stood, and April could tell that he noticed his apparent lack of accessories but decided to let it be in the meantime.

The group leaned in to inspect April’s relatively simple wares and, save for microwaveable pizzas and breakfast burritos, much of the ‘grab-and-go’ variety. But, such was life.

“Reluctant sigh. Who knew that carbonated beverages could taste so good,” Donnie hummed as he downed one, in a move that Mikey thought was highly uncharacteristic for him.

“I did,” Leo retorted. “And so did anyone with taste, bro.”

Donnie gave him a sharp glare and bonked him on the head with the can before dropping it into a haphazardly labeled ‘recicling’ bag.

“This bag says ‘resi-clean’. Recycling is spelled with a ‘y’, dumdums.”

Raph gave Donnie a light glare in return, and with a black marker, crossed out the offending phrase, and wrote ‘ryclicling’.

“What? No! Instead of the ‘i’, not the ‘e’!”

“Oh, come on! You gotta give Raph something to work with, Dee!” Raph explained, and Mkey couldn’t help but giggle as he crossed out ‘ryclicling’, replacing it with ‘reciclyng’.

“THE OTHER ‘I’!”

“THEN YOU GOTTA TELL RAPH THAT!” Raph shouted back, sweat pooling on his forehead.

“UNLESS SPECIFIED, IT’S ALWAYS THE FIRST LETTER!”

Donnie and Raph gave each other equal looks of frustration and desperation, and Raph finally crossed it out, writing ‘recycling.’

“Oh, thank Pizza Supreme in the Sky.”

Ignoring his brothers, Mikey rifled through April’s bags, which, aside from real food, included three air mattresses, Pez dispensers, and parts of a bed set. Mikey took some paper plates from another of April’s bags.

“Protein bars and dried fruit, as the world intended!”

Mikey smiled to himself and arranged a relatively nutritious plate for each of them. Or as nutritious as one could get with protein bars and dried fruit. Contrary to April’s apparent beliefs, they were not as the world intended.

Though, he realized it might be safer for Casey Junior. The guy sometimes could have taken better to actual food as he did to non-perishables like beans or butter. Mikey had no idea how half a stick of butter was less toxic for his stomach than an excellent old-fashioned PB&J., And Mikey was pretty sure he wasn’t allergic either!

“Say, what’s with the air mattresses in the other bags, Apes?” Leo asked conversationally, and April carefully chewed her dried banana slice before answering.

“Figured that since Mike and Junior still don’t have rooms, they might need somewhere to sleep. You feel me?”

“Touche. Alright, let’s think. Who do we have to house?” Leo asked.

“There’s us four, plus dad, that’s five. I haven’t had time to forge documents for Junior yet, so six,” Donnie rattled off.

“I’m moving back in with my mom until my campus is back on dorms,” April said.

“I am still in my human apartment above you,” Draxum supplied.

“I don’t have a permanent residence,” Casey Senior admitted.

“Well,” April began. “Know what’s great about the apocalypse?” Without waiting for a reply, she continued. “The housing market opens up like movie theaters in summer, and prices are about as much as I paid for all this! There’s an apartment a few doors down from me that I’m pretty sure you could get your paws on.”

“You’ve got papers, right?” Donnie asked the ex-Foot General.

“I was born legally if that’s what you mean. The Foot legally gave each recruit an apartment room.”

“First legal thing they ever did, huh? Regardless, that will do.”

Splinter managed to look pensive while eating a bag of Cheetos. “So the six of us remain, yes?”

Donnie nodded. “And with four rooms between us.”

“Well, who’s got the biggest rooms?” Raph asked, and Donnie typed on his wrist computer as he munched on a protein bar.

“The three of us have rooms about the same size,” Donnie explained, gesturing to himself, Raph, and Leo. “We haven’t unpacked everything, so most places are fair game.”

“Either of you got a preference?” Leo asked, and Casey Junior shrugged.

“I can just set one up in the living room; you don’t have to—” he began but was cut off.

“Nope, nope, nope, nope. We are not couch surfers in this house, Future Boy,” Splinter shook his head adamantly, and Casey put his hands up in defense.

“Ooh! Can I room with you, Dee?” Mikey asked, jumping at the opportunity.

“I suppose so, Angelo.”

“Ouch,” Leo smirked, and Mikey stuck his tongue out.

“I still love you, Leo!”

“Yeah, yeah, ditto.” Turning to Junior, he asked, “You got a preference between me and Raph?”

“I don’t mind,” the human said, if not a little sheepishly.

“Cool. I’m stealing you, in that case. You good with that, Raph?”

Raph gave a thumbs-up. “Raph’s all good!”

“How much sleep are any of them going to be getting?” April asked Casey Senior in a hushed tone.

“By the looks of them? Very little.”

“I take offense to that!” Mikey called, and April chuckled.

“You’ll survive, Mike. Eat your canned peaches.”

Leo’s POV

Leo watched Cassandra and Baron Draxum as they watched April as she nearly submerged herself in a duffle bag. She seemingly found what she had been looking for and straightened her glasses.

“All that for a measly shoe?” Baron Draxum inquired, and April nodded.

“It’s a good shoe! Don’t you two have any packing up to do?”

“We do not live here.”

“Huh. Guess not! Well, let’s go! Grab those bags?”

Cassandra shrugged and took two plastic bags, regaining her footing as April nearly dragged her like a corpse down the corridor.

Meanwhile, Leo made a mental note: blowing up two air mattresses should be done after taking them into any room — particularly a room with a narrow doorway.

Well. Better late than never.

“Okay, turn them the long way… Back up… And run at ’em!”

Mikey and Casey Junior took off at a sprint.

“We can just portal them in,” Leo said, throwing his hands up in disbelief.

“Yeah, but this is still better!” Mikey said as he and Casey rammed their mattresses; they passed the threshold. “Yeah, baby! That’s how we do!”

“Well, you did something, that’s for sure,” Leo muttered and helped Casey up.

“Something cool!” Mikey corrected.

“Sure, Mike.”

As it happened, both mattresses had made it around halfway to the unoccupied area of the car.

“Hey, if it works, it works!” April said, and Leo turned to her. The human looked amused, and a bag slung over her shoulder. Cassandra stood next to her with a few old store bags.

“Are you guys heading out?”

“Yeah, we’ll be back tomorrow. Try not to drive each other crazy?”

“No promises!”

As Leo returned to his room, Casey successfully pushed the mattress to the open part of his room.

“Yeah, we should have inflated those after getting them in the room,” he said, more to himself than to Casey.

“Is here okay?” Casey asked, and Leo looked up.

He’d gotten the tall, thin side of the mattress on the ground, with enough space between it and Leo’s more defined space that there was a decent walkway.

“Stamp of approval!”

Casey lowered the mattress down and put his mask on it. Leo looked at the barren area pensively.

“We should probably decorate, y’know?”

“Huh?”

“You’re living here, yeah? Decorate your space, make it a place you want to be in; you feel me?”

“Uh… Sort of?”

“You’ll get it eventually. We’ll grab and work off the stuff you saved from your other room. Dad’s always got a spare Lou Jitsu poster or action figure here or there.”

Casey frowned like it was a never-before-considered novelty to him. Which, Leo remembered as he half dragged the guy out, it probably was.

Casey’s pile of things, stuffed in a bag marked with his name (which had been crossed out at least three times. Raph was many things, but he was not a good speller) was much smaller than the others, containing a few things blankets, some spare clothes that April had dug up for him a few weeks after the invasion, and some books that Donnie had given him as a “housewarming gift.”

“Take this, and sort out where you want your stuff. You know Lou Jitsu, right?”

“Wasn’t he Master Splinter?”

“More like Dad was him. But yeah. I’m pretty sure Cassandra’s a fan, too. I’ll dig up some old merchandise, and we’ll stick it up, m’kay?”

“‘Merch’?”

Leo gave him a look of shock. “Merch. Memorabilia. Posters and stuff?” No reaction. Leo groaned and rubbed the area where his nose would have been if he had been a human. “When you like a book, TV show, video game, movie, or whatever, you get stuff from that thing. I’ll show you.”

He led Casey back to their room and pointed at his ‘Mad Dogs’ flag and Jupiter Jim figure. “This stuff! That’s merch. Mikey and Donnie made our awesome Mad Dogs flag, and we definitely didn’t scam a guy at JJ Con to let us get JJ figures for cheap!”

“Cool,” Casey breathed and studied them from a distance with interest as Leo perused a spare box.

“C’mon, I swear we head one in here,” he muttered, before pulling something out of it. “Here we go!” He handed two flags to Casey. “Your very own Hamato and Mad Dogs flags!”

He accepted the flags and unfolded them. One was the same flag that Leo had pointed out to him, and the other had a black backdrop with the green Hamato symbol emblazoned on it.

“Woah… Thank you!” Casey exclaimed, and Leo grinned, eyebrows raising at his tone shift.

“Cool, huh? Come on, we’ll hang them up.”

Even after the invasion, Leo wasn’t too sure where Casey fit into their gaggle of weirdos, and he was fairly sure it was a mutual feeling. But dammit if he wouldn’t try to make it work.

It would work out — a bit of Mikey’s undying optimism, his own devil-may-care commentary, Raph’s worrying, Donnie’s weirdly helpful cynicism, and whatever the others had, and there was no way it wouldn’t.

It had only taken a half-meal and what Mikey would have called a ‘bonding moment’ with Casey to get Leo feeling like he could have fought the entire Battle Nexus again, and win.

So, walking alongside the newest addition to their family, as if he had read Leo’s thoughts, (and maybe he had, it wouldn’t have surprised Leo in the slightest) Casey smiled wearily, and determinedly looked at the wall as he held out a fist.

“Well, would you look at that?” Leo smirked. “We’re making progress with you!” He met the gesture, bumping his fist against Casey’s, and blew it into an open palm.

Casey made a soft, exaggerated explosion noise, and Leo could only chuckle.

----

A/N: I finished this not 10 minutes ago... Avid I promise your angst is on its way, I have a Bingo Card to fill up and a handful on generally happy turtles >:>

[this-is-krikkit]

Hey lovely Kit 🤎

I hope you're doing well!

So, I was scrolling through your blog when I saw your post XXX and I know you're always ok for new writing prompts so here I am with "Not on the lips"!

Thank you and have a nice day/evening/night 🤎

hey sweet Livia! 🖤

i promised myself i would make this under a thousand words, so naturally, it is now over 3k long and i kinda want to make it into a series! yay! *soflty* kill me now please

anyway, thank you so much for the prompt 🖤 (i promise i'm still working on the other you sent)

i hope you enjoy this 😘

vampires 102: unexpected quirks

ship: levihan rating: T (mentions of blood/injury)

summary:

"Vampires can purr when they feel comfortable or safe.

Levi Ackerman, a vampire who hasn't led the happiest life, may not be up to date with all of his kind's abilities."

tags: Pre-Canon, Alternate Universe - Vampire, everything is canonverse except Levi is a vampire, yes you read that right, cherry-picked vampire abilities, because it’s my fic and also i've never written vampires before leave me alone, Pining, Consensual Blood Drinking, (why was there only the non con version of that tag jeez ao3 r u okay??), Blood, Weird-Ass Friends to Whatever The Fuck Levihan's Canon Relationship Is, Fluff, Couch Cuddles

👉 read on archive of our own 🧛‍♂️

PS: look, Levi is canonly: pale, stronger than a regular Scout, broody, doesn't know how to hold his tea cup (because he's not used to drinking liquids from something other than a vein, duh!), and his dashing looks don't seem to change as time passes by. so like. i might HAVE to turn this into a series, right??

divider source

[trashbag-baby666]

Home is Where the Heart is-Curt/Ken

What's Waited Till Tomorrow Starts Tonight au

summary: John and Curt come face to face with Ken's ex

wc: 702

c/w: Curt hitting people with his crutches, implied domestic abuse.

mota masterlist!

series masterlist! | ao3 link

John looked at the text Gale sent and looked back up at the oakwood door with the number plate 310 B on the door. 

He pocketed his phone and wrapped his knuckles against it. He hoped Dominic wasn’t home so they could just take Ken’s spare key and get his stuff and leave. Benny stood next to John, they waited a few moments and he knocked again, a little harder this time.

 “Jesus Christ.” They heard a gruff voice from the other side of the door. John took a deep breath as he mentally prepared himself to face him. Luckily, Sawyer was still helping Curt up the stairs. Damn building didn’t have an elevator and Curt demanded he go and help anyway.

“What?” The voice sounded as the door opened revealing a guy who was a few inches shorter than John with messy longer, brown hair. Not like Gales though, his was distasteful. 

“Are you Dominic Harring?” 

“Yeah, who’s asking?”

 “Some friends of Ken.” John nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. 

The man on the other side of the doorframe rolled his eyes practically into the back of his head letting out a huff that turned into some kind of sarcastic laugh.

 John wrinkled his nose at the ick practically oozing off of this man. Not to mention, the strong smell of cigarettes radiating from the apartment. 

From what he could see, just from the doorway. This doesn’t look like a place Ken would live.

 He always kept his things very nice and tidy and cleaned for fun. Dominic went to close the door in their faces but Curt stuck his crutch between the door and the trim blocking it from closing. 

“We don’t want any trouble, we just came here to get his stuff.” Curt cleared his throat shouldering the door the rest of the way open.

“And how do you reckon you’re gonna do that, Tiny Tim?” Dom scoffed but John was sure he was eating his words as soon as they left his mouth.

 Curt shoved one of his crutches into Sawyer's arms and delivered the all too painful blow of a Curtis Biddick punch right to his face. He sent Dom right onto the Dirty carpet, blood instantly beginning to gush from his nose. Curt took back his crutch and stepped forward into the apartment. 

“Now are you gonna let us get his stuff, you fuckin’ pig?” Curt spat standing over him as he clutched his nose. 

“Fine.” He groaned through the pain. 

“Sawyer, why don’t you go help em’ get Kenny’s things?” Curt nodded to his younger brother, “I wanna have a few more words with this cuck.”

 Sawyer just nodded and followed John and Benny into the apartment. 

“You oughta be lucky I got my pals here with me, otherwise I would’ve dragged your sorry ass across the parking lot. I outta have your fuckin’ head for what you did to my boy.” Curt had to use everything in his power to not raise his voice. But to also not kick the ever loving shit out of him. He promised John on the way here he wouldn’t cause any trouble. 

Dom went to sit up but Curt was faster. He pushed the tip of his crutch to his chest, 

“Stay down, I ain’t finished with ya yet.” His words were full of venom and anger. He was practically boiling over himself in rage. “You better fuckin’ listen well ‘cause I ain’t repeatin’ myself. If you come within a hundred goddamn yards of Kenny, youse not going to get off the floor next time. By god help me if you ever try contacting him again I will fuckin’ kill you. You got that!?” 

“Yes, get off of me.” He grumbled trying to suppress his bleeding.

 The other three came back with just an arm full of stuff each. Saying they got what Ken asked for. 

“Might wanna have your carpets cleaned.” Curt growled, taking a cheap shot right at Dom's crotch with his crutch sending the man howling into a curled ball of himself.

 He reached over to the counter and grabbed an unopened bag of Doritos, shoving it into Sawyer's arms and leading the three of them out.

- - taglist: @austeenbootler @coastiewife465 @executethyself35 @slowsweetlove

[polar-equinoxx]

A fic masterlist! Finally!

And here is my ao3 account :D

Take your pick, all of these are sfw, full of fluff or angst and definitely hurt/comfort; and are rated either gen or teen^^

More detailed summaries added underneath each one and oh my god this post is so long

featuring the main two of all of these bc why the hell not

Oh and the series on ao3 is linked in the headings of each sector :)

I will be updating this whenever I write more fics, so keep watch XD

☁️The heavens told me that clouds have been grey

all of my icemav fics! So guaranteed smooches <3 none of them link to each other unless they are in a seperate series ^^

find the masterlist here! yes I made a seperate post its because there are so many of them quq

🌟Canons shoot ships but not this one

all of my fics that could fit into the canon timeline, (featuring an occasional icemav smooch cus lets be for real they did probably kiss at least once)

find the masterlist here! yes I made a seperate post for this too lmao

Long-fics (5k or above)

🍁Hot Summer Nights to Cold Winter Days (18k words, 10 chapters split between two works)

Rated Teen, with fluff and a genourous amount of angst and hurt/comfort

When Goose and his pilot were allowed to go to Top Gun, then Ice couldn’t think of anything better. Only until he’d seen Maverick and fallen head over heels in love with him. That July Saturday had changed everything, Goose had gone, and Maverick had fallen into a deep dark pit, and Ice, wanting to look out for Maverick, had dived straight in after him, unwilling to let his wingman get stuck there. Ice promised Maverick he’d go to the ends of the earth with him, and that is what he would do, even if it meant they’d both hurt.

❄️Returning to You (25k words, 15 chapters)

❄️ Letters : Epilogue (1.5k words)

Rated Teen, a lot of angst. Seriously. But a lot of hurt comfort to make up for it :,) Oh yeah, the amnesia is the cause of the angst..

In the months after Goose’s death, Maverick has been forging a deep friendship with Iceman. So deep, in fact it feels like nothing could come between them, even though he hasn’t been entirely honest about exactly how he is feeling. It’s hard to do, but it only seems to get harder when a scouting mission takes a turn for the worse.

🌷Galloping into the Cold (5k+ words, completely a wip, 3 chapters right now)

Rated Teen, angst, fluff hurt-comfort, medieval au, they ride horses.

Thomas Kazansky, nicknamed Ice for the personality that isn’t even his; feels like he’s stuck in his pampered posh life. That’s until he falls off his horse and meets Peter Mitchell and realises he might have a chance to be something other than his surname.

🌙 when the human strokes your skin, that is when you let them in (29k words, 14 chapters)

Rated Teen, angst hurt/comfort and secretive mutual pining with miscommunication sprinkled on top

Top Gun. Top Gun! Maverick had only gone and actually done it, and it would be the best five weeks of his life, for sure. If only there wasn’t a distraction with the name of Iceman. Anyway, he was so relieved that he was going to do it and win that trophy with Goose. But many things don’t go to plan.

🌹Roses (5k words, a 4+1)

Rated Teen, angst, unrequited love, a lot of valentines days, pining and eventual fluff

Nobody in Iceman’s life has meant more to him than Pete Mitchell does. He’s dangerous and annoying but incredibly cute, and Ice thinks if he looks at him one more time with that smile of his, his legs are going to give out under him. Try as he might, he can’t say anything to address the crush he has on him. // Or, the four times Ice wants to admit to Maverick that he loves him and the one time he does.

🧊Not Enough (11k words, a 5+1)

Rated teen, angst, self doubt, abusive parents, mutual pining and eventual fluff

Iceman has been told one way or another and all through his life that he's not good enough, for whatever that may be. He dreads turning out even the slightest bit like his father, and he'll do everything in his power to stop himself from becoming like him. / Or, five ways people say to Ice that he's not enough and the one time he says it.

🐎Heaven In Your Eyes (WIP, 2 chapters at 3k)

They r cowboys, no-one dies, (!?!), they ride horses, with pining, fluff and friends to lovers

Thomas Kazansky is the notorious peace-maker of the new place in Colorado the people call Durango. Pete Mitchell was supposed to be passing it on his way to California, but the small town seemed nice enough to stay for while. For some reason, their paths keep crossing, but Pete, as rebellious as he is, doesn't mind. / Or, a western icemav fic that takes place in 1886

❤️‍🩹Goose lives AU (Goose lives and there's no such thing as DADT)

❤️‍🩹Seasick (1632 words)

Rated Teen, sickfic, hurt/comfort A mission is flown, the mission is successful, but a certain Pete Maverick Mitchell is seasick. Badly.

❤️‍🩹Saved by Sickness (2037 words)

Rated Teen, sickfic, hurt/comfort, this is how Goose lives lol The thing about Iceman is that he never gets sick. Or at least he thought he didn’t. Most of the time it was just a cold. Most of the time he jut felt a little bit more tired for a couple of days, then he was back to normal. This was not one of those times, as he's about to find out.

❤️‍🩹Spur of the Moment (3788 words)

Rated Teen, with fluff, pining, Goose and Slider embarrassing both Ice and Mav, and no DADT cus who am I to do that??? Maverick is about to fall asleep standing. He's so tired that the last thing he's going to be thinking about is what comes out of his mouth. Especially if it's 'baby'. Especially if it's to his wingman. Or, Maverick calls Ice 'baby' for the first time.

🕊Angelus AU (The icemav boys are angels, but that isn't normal)

🕊Growing Pains (1494 words)

Rated Teen, patching up injuries, angst, post-argument, hurt/comfort He doesn’t know how he gets to his bathroom, but once he reaches a point that lets him lift his head up to try and see his back in the mirror, he’s immediately chucked into a pit of horror and disbelief. “Oh god-” His wings were growing. God dammit of course they had to choose tonight to start.

🕊Cold Wings (2137)

Rated Teen, patching up injuries, fluff, hurt/comfort

The good news? Ice was there. / The bad news? There was blood all over his back and he was about to collapse over the sink. / “Oh jesus christ-” Maverick says as he shuts the door behind him and goes straight over to him, dropping the towel on the floor. || Or, Ice's wings decide to appear at a very awkward time.

🌠Shooting Stars (A small series where the icemav both stargazed as kids and Maverick dated Charlie beforehand)

🌠Starboard Half Light (3104 words)

Rated Gen, with pining, and hurt/comfort

It had been such a tiring day, and so emotionally charged too, so why was Maverick still wide awake? It seemed like the only option he had left was to go see Iceman, his newly titled wingman. Hopefully he was awake. Maverick just wanted to talk to someone. Or, Maverick and Iceman talk on the starboard side of the USS Enterprise for the entire night

🌠Shooting Stars (1886 words)

Rated Teen, a lot of kissing and pining. So much kissing seriously.

Maverick has always loved stargazing, ever since he was a kid. He has also had a crush on Iceman ever since he laid eyes on him. So what better to do than go stargazing with him, right?

🌠Afterglow (1635 words)

Rated Teen, hurt/comfort obviously with mentions of guilt tripping and Mav's past relationship with Charlie

“I- I promised…” “Hey, hey… you don’t have to be s-” “Yes I do,” Maverick interrupts him. “I promised her I wouldn’t because she’d- she…” She? “Who, Mav?” Or, Maverick wakes up in the middle of the night and tries to hide the nightmare he's just had from Ice, because he knows what will happen if he tells him.

[sequinsmile-x]

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Twenty Eight

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi friends!!

As always, thank you so SO much for your love for this version of them. It means the absolute world to me because I love them too. And I keep thinking of more and more things to do with/to them so this could end up being like 100 chapters if you all continue to want to read it <3

Please let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 3.3k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List and will be updated as we go along.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She finds herself watching the clock. 

It wasn’t something she usually did but a day full of paperwork, plus the promise of a weekend away just her and Aaron, had made the day drag. It made minutes feel like hours and hours like years. 

As soon as it’s 5 pm she feels her shoulders relax as she thinks to herself that she might try and convince Aaron to get her some fast food before their drive to their hotel. 

“You desperate to get out of here, Em?” Derek asks, and she smiles as she turns in her chair before she stands up.

“I’m excited for a weekend away.” 

He smiles as he stands too, shutting down his computer. “No Jack this weekend?”

She shakes her head and she stands up, ready to pack everything on her desk away for the weekend, “No, Haley has taken him to spend time with her dad this weekend, so Aaron and I are taking advantage and going away,” she smiles at the thought of it, “We’re not going to have a whole lot of time to do that soon.” 

“Where are you going?” 

“Atlantic City,” she replies, “It’s a Sin to Win weekend,” she leans in closer and speaks a little quieter, well aware her fiancé wouldn’t thank her if anyone else overheard, “I sin, Aaron wins.” 

His eyes go wide and his eyes flick to her bump, “Really?”

The look on his face makes her suppress a laugh, the need to mess with him almost making her tell him about the time she did take Aaron to Atlantic City, but she decides to tell him the truth.

“No, you idiot,” she says as she finally laughs, “I’m almost 24 weeks pregnant, we are going to a spa and a hotel in Virginia Beach for the weekend. I have a pregnancy massage booked and then we are going to have a lot of sex.” 

“Ew, gross Prentiss,” he replies, and she laughs at the look on his face, the way he shakes his head as if he was trying to dispel the thought completely. He looks her up and down, smiling at the question he’d clearly been thinking all day. “What’s the dress all about, anyway? Not your normal office wear.” 

She looks down at her outfit, smiling at the red dress she’d decided to wear that morning. Her cheeks flush when she remembers the way Aaron had looked at her when she walked out of the ensuite, his eyes wide as he took in the way the material was snug around her bump. She was struggling a little bit with the changes to her body, how it no longer felt like her own at times - so much of what she could and couldn’t do dictated by the baby, but it seemed to make Aaron even more attracted to her than usual. His hands always reached out for her in a way she knew wasn’t just because he desperately wanted to feel the baby kick. 

He wanted her. All the time. And she wanted him too, the need for him constantly thrumming under her skin. 

She smiles at Derek, her hand drifting to her stomach, “I’m still refusing to wear maternity pants unless I have to,” she replies, only half lying, “That’s what the dress is about.” 

He smirks at her, but any conversation is cut off as JJ walks past, “Have a good weekend JJ,”

JJ winces and holds up a file, not stopping walking to Aaron’s office as she responds, “Sorry.”

Emily sighs as she watches her friend walk into Aaron’s office and hand him a case file, their conversation muted.

“There goes my beach house rental,” Derek laments, sighing as he turns back to his desk to pick up his go-bag. 

Emily sighs, “And my non-refundable booking at the spa.”

Derek raises his eyebrow at her, a smirk spreading across his face, “Didn’t you just buy a house for $3 Million? I’m sure you can take the hit.” 

She rolls her eyes at him and opens her mouth to curse at him, but Aaron cuts over her, already out of his office and walking down the stairs to the bullpen.

“JJ will brief you all on the jet,” he says, walking over and picking up Emily’s go-bag, ignoring her usual protest that she could carry her own things and the accounting eye-roll, “We need to get going, we have a missing co-ed we have a chance of saving.” 

They nod, the importance of the case not lost on any of them, and head towards the elevator. 

“Where are we going?” Spencer asks, his hands in his pockets.

“Tallahassee,” JJ replies, and Emily groans. 

“Florida? Oh man, the heat is going to suck.” 

Derek nudges her gently with his elbow as they all get on the elevator, “I don’t know what you’re complaining about, you’ll be sat in an air-conditioned precinct the entire time.”  

She feels annoyance flick in her chest even though she knows that he’s joking, that this type of lightheartedness had always been part of their relationship, but she finds herself in less and less control of her reactions and emotions. 

“How about you have a baby living inside of you Morgan, and then we’ll see who’s complaining?” She says, raising an eyebrow at him as a challenge. He wants to argue with her, she can see that, but she can see JJ shaking her head at Derek out of the corner of her eye, and he stops, simply nodding in response. “That’s what I thought.” 

When the elevator reaches the first floor they step out, and she feels Aaron just behind her, his familiar scent overwhelming her, “You don’t have to-”

“If you tell me I don’t have to come, I’ll yell at you too,” she says, turning her head to look at him and all he does is nod, a response he had learnt was the safest fairly early on into her pregnancy. 

“I’ll make sure to get your pregnancy pillow from the trunk of the car.” 

Her chest fills with love for him, warming her from the inside out. She leans forward to kiss his cheek, a quick thing she wouldn’t usually allow herself whilst they were still at work, and smiles as she pulls away. 

“You’re the best baby daddy in the world.” 

He groans, closing his eyes and shaking his head at her, “Please stop calling me that,” he says as they follow the rest of the team, “I’m your fiancé.”

___

She feels nothing short of relief on the jet home. 

Part of it is because of the air conditioning, the heat and the humidity of Florida something she was glad to be leaving behind. Mostly she was happy that they’d been able to save someone, something that felt like a rarity. A young girl was going to get to go home.

And a baby had been left without parents. 

The thought of it makes her sigh as she rubs her bump before she reaches for a pretzel, enjoying her winnings from her poker game with Spencer. 

“I still can’t believe you won,” Spencer says his eyebrows furrowing as she continues to eat the snacks in front of her. 

“You’ll get over it,” she replies, smiling at him, “Besides, we both know you would have given me the snacks anyway.” 

He smiles and nods in confirmation, and Derek and Aaron walk over to join them. Emily shifts over to sit next to the window so Aaron can slip into the seat next to her. His hand immediately lands on her thigh, squeezing the muscle beneath his palm. He’d been keeping close by, even more so than usual, since the team returned from rescuing Rebecca. Emily knew it was mostly down to the fact that the dead, recently pregnant, unsub had made him worry even more about her. And that watching a newborn, parentless, baby get loaded into an ambulance would make him worry about their baby, even though they were perfectly fine. Emily smiles and places her hand over his, squeezing it tightly as a silent promise that they’d talk about it when they get home.

“Are you done winning all of Reid’s snacks, sweetheart?” Aaron asks, sneaking a pretzel from the pile in front of her. She slaps his hand playfully and shifts all her snacks closer to her side of the table. 

“Hands off, these belong to me and Nugget” she says, her smile turning into a yawn and then a groan, “Fuck I’m tired.”

“That’s only going to get worse sadly,” JJ says as she and Dave walk over, both of them sitting on the bench seat, “I was exhausted in the third trimester.” 

“That’s why I’m going to start staying back at Quantico with Pen when I hit 28 weeks,” she says, shifting in her seat in an attempt to get comfortable. 

“Just over four weeks to go,” Aaron says, failing to sound casual as if he wasn’t counting down every second. He’d miss her, he’d miss spending basically all his time with her, but he knew he’d feel better once she was staying back at home. He looks at Emily who raises her eyebrow at him, shaking her head subtly to let him know that she could see right through him. 

“Pen is going to make such a fuss of you when you stay back,” JJ says, smiling at her, “I remember when I was having Henry she kept me fed and watered like I was a pet she was looking after.” 

They all laugh and Emily can just picture it. Weeks of Penelope doing her best to look after her as she tried to not get annoyed by her friend's coddling.

“Well she’d better not get too used to it,” Dave adds, “Otherwise she’ll miss you when you start coming back with us after your maternity leave.” 

Emily is grateful that she doesn’t physically react beyond squeezing Aaron’s hand even harder than she already was. They had a point of not telling the team about her plans to move elsewhere in the FBI after she had the baby. Mostly, she had wanted a chance to get used to the idea first herself. She knew it was the right thing to do, that it was what she wanted to do, but she also knew she would miss this. She would miss spending time with the family she’d found in the most unlikely of places. But now she was used to it, she had total peace with her decision. 

She just hoped they would too. 

She looks at Aaron and their eyes meet. She loved that they could always say so much without words at all. That all she needed from him was a small nod and a half smile, one of his dimples appearing on his cheek as understanding and affection flash in his eyes. She smiles and looks back at the team, grateful as Aaron starts to rub his thumb back and forth over the heel of her hand.

“Actually,” she says, blowing out a slow breath, “I won’t be coming back.” 

She watches as her words sink in and looks of confusion pass over her friend's faces, all of them stunned into silence. 

“You’re not coming back at all?” 

She looks at Spencer and hates the sad look in his eyes, and she smiles at him, “I’ll come back to the FBI once I’ve had my maternity leave, but not to the BAU. I’ve been talking with the counterterrorism unit and the homicide unit,” she explains. The silence that follows feels awkward, thick in the jet around them, so she carries on, “It means hardly any travelling if any at all and a better working schedule, so I’d be able to be home a lot more often with the baby than if I came back.”

“You never said anything,” Derek says, furrowing his brows, “We see each other every day.” 

“We can’t both be away all of the time,” she says, “It’s just not feasible.” 

Emily looks up at Aaron and widens her eyes slightly, silently asking for help. He nods and smiles at her before turning to look at the team, his smile slipping away as he looks at them sternly in an obvious attempt to intimidate them into not asking too many questions.

“We spoke about it just after we found out Emily is pregnant, and we decided it was best if she was the one to leave the team.” He explains. He’d offered to do it, and whilst she loved him for it, she knew it wasn’t the right call. Not yet. He was the BAU, he was the thing that held them all together.

“You thought about leaving?” Dave asks, looking at his friend in disbelief. 

“One of us has to,” Emily says, “Look at what happened today. That baby has no parents, he’s not even a day old and he has no one. I’m not doing that to my kids.” 

“Kids?” Derek asks, sitting back in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Jack. This baby,” she smiles thoughtfully, “Any others that might come along,” she shakes her head and shrugs, “And I was raised by a mother who put her career before me, and I refuse to do that to my children.”

That was at the centre of it all. She had promised herself for years, since she first knew she wanted children if the right guy at the right time came along, that she would be her mother. She had never come first. It was always the job. Or keeping up appearances. Or alcohol. Never her. 

She wasn’t going to do that to her children.

“I still do it,” JJ says, an edge of defensiveness to her voice, “Do you think I’m putting my job before Henry?”

Emily sighs, closing her eyes to give herself a moment to centre herself before she looks at JJ, “Of course not, but Will has a different job and isn’t sat next to you whenever you fly to wherever the hell it is we’re going,” she clears her throat in a failed attempt to try to push back the emotion she can feel climbing up it, tears that she can’t control flooding her eyes.

JJ sighs, her irritation fading away as she sees Emily is getting upset, “Em-”

“No, I’m fine,” she insists, taking Aaron’s handkerchief as he passes it to her wordlessly, “It’s the fucking hormones, I cry at everything. Just ask Aaron.”

They look at him and he nods in confirmation, “Sergio laid his head on her bump the other day and she cried because it was cute.” The team chuckle and a little bit of the tension in the air dissipates, “This is our decision, it’s Emily’s decision,’ he says, smiling as she leans her head against his shoulder, seeking out his comfort in a way she usually wouldn’t in front of the team, “You don’t have to like it, but you have to respect it.” 

He watches as they all nod, and they fall into a silence that is significantly more comfortable than the one from a few minutes before. Aaron watches as Dave stands and reaches over the table to take a peanut, but Emily hits the back of his hand before he can even touch one.

“Hey,” he exclaims, making a point of rubbing the back of his hand even though she hadn’t hit him hard enough for it to hurt, “What’s your problem?” 

“Those are her snacks,” Derek and Spencer say at the same time, and the team all laugh. It makes Emily smile and reassures her that even though everything was going to change, it would be fine. 

___

Emily snuggles around her pregnancy pillow, her hand on her stomach as she tries to get comfortable. She smiles as she hears Aaron downstairs in their apartment, dishes clattering against the kitchen counter as he gets her the snack she asked for. 

“Daddy is getting us some ice cream,” she says, rubbing circles on her bump, the material of Aaron’s t-shirt soft under her palm, “Although, he did make me agree to have salmon and greens for dinner tomorrow so I’m sorry about that in advance.” 

She smiles as she feels the baby move, much sharper than she was used to, as if it was responding to her, and then she freezes as she realises she’d felt it with her hand too. She sits up quickly, her hand pressing even harder into her belly.

“Oh my god, did you just kick for real?” She asks, and she feels it again, making her laugh to herself, the sound catching on a sob in her chest as she quickly gets out of bed, “Aaron,” she yells, not wanting him to miss this after he’d spent weeks with his hand all but glued to her belly so he could feel it, “Aaron.” 

She’s already in the hallway when she hears him respond, yelling her name back, dishes hitting the counter with force as she hears him running. When she makes it to the top of the stairs she pauses, smiling when their eyes meet. He’s already halfway up them, his eyes wide as he looks her up and down.

“Emily?” He says, “Are you ok? What’s happened?”

She feels a pang of guilt when she realises she must have scared him and she places her hand on his cheek when he makes it to the top of the stairs. He looks her up and down, as if she could have potentially injured herself in the few minutes he’d been downstairs. 

“I’m ok,” she says, smiling widely at him, “We’re ok.” 

He sighs, resting his forehead against hers, “Jesus Christ Em-”

“Nugget kicked. Properly,” she says, taking his hand and placing it on her stomach, “I didn’t want you to miss it.” 

“You felt a kick?” He asks, the panic in his eyes replaced with joy, both of his hands on her stomach as they fall into silence as they wait for movement. 

“Come on baby,” Emily says, “Kick for Daddy.” 

She watches as Aaron waits, his patience unending, and she feels sighs in relief when she feels it happen again. A sharp kick from her insides that she knows Aaron has felt too when his eyes go impossibly wider. 

“Hi Nugget,” he says, his voice thick as he kneels down in front of Emily, his face level with her bump, “Hi.” 

Emily smiles as she runs her hand through Aaron’s hair, and her cheeks ache with happiness when he looks up at her, his eyes shining. She wipes her finger under his eye, catching a tear as it falls, and she chokes out a laugh. 

“I love you,” she says, her smile shaking, “I love you so much.” 

Aaron stands, ignoring the pull in his back and knees as he does so, and tugs her into a fierce hug. “I love you too, sweetheart,” he kisses her temple, “I love you.” 

She pulls back from him and kisses him fiercely, tasting his joy on his tongue as she buries her fingers in his hair, holding him in place. She presses her forehead against his when they pull away and she smiles when he chases her kiss. 

“Do you still want your ice cream?” He asks, his hands drifting up the back of the t-shirt she was wearing, and she shakes her head, “You’re not hungry anymore?” 

She bites her lip before she kisses him again, her smile wide, “Not for ice cream.”  

-x-

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[invisibleraven]

Silver-white winters that melt into spring

Written for the Year of the OTP challenge prompt: That’s my favourite thing about you.

On AO3!

Well here we are, at the end of the year, and it seems fitting to end it with the ship that started the year; Rulie! In truth, they are my OTP but it was fun to write this series with a few different pairings and get to challenge myself with the prompts. Happy New Years to all, and I promise to see you back here in 2024 with even more JatP fic!

“I know we both love Christmas,” Reggie said as he eased himself back onto the couch. “But I’m kind of glad it’s over.”

Julie sighed as she swung her feet into his lap. “Still gotta get through New Years.”

“We are having a quiet night in with champagne and Rockin’ New Years Eve on the tv,” Reggie said firmly. “No parties, no obligations, just us to ring in the new year together.”

“That sounds lovely,” she groaned as he rubbed the sore arches of her feet. “How’d you get everyone to agree?”

“The usual threats and bribery,” Reggie replied. “Honestly everyone just wanted a bit of a chill thing anyways, so I begged off for us to do our own thing.”

“My hero,” Julie quipped, offering him a smile. “That’s my favourite thing about you, how you look after me.”

“I could never pick just one thing,” Reggie said, placing a kiss on her ankle. “Everything about you is my favourite.”

“Sap,” Julie replied.

“But I’m your sap,” Reggie countered.

~

On New Year's Eve Julie woke up late, and alone. There was a note on Reggie’s pillow, so she unfolded it.

You’re my favourite person to share a bed with-you give the best cuddles, and your little snores are adorable

“I don’t snore!” She called out, slipping out of bed, and got no response, so she went to the kitchen. There was a tray of food and coffee, still warm. Plus a note.

You’re my favourite meal partner, it’s always fun to eat with you, even when you insist we eat healthy.

Julie snickered as she took in the oatmeal when she knew Reggie would prefer bacon and eggs. But Julie said the odd day of a healthier option wouldn’t kill him. “Might keep you around another decade or two even,” she had teased. “And I want you to be around for them, see what a silver fox you turn into.”

“Yeah, you still gonna be into me when I’m all old and wrinkly?” Reggie had asked.

“And then some,” Julie had promised.

She smiled as she recalled the awed expression he’d given her at that. Julie adored Reggie, but she wished he didn’t doubt her devotion so much, and wanted to throttle his parents for damaging his self esteem so. He had gotten better, but there were days she knew he still doubted, and she vowed to ensure every day that he knew how much he was loved.

~

Finishing her breakfast, she went back up the stairs, wondering idly where Reggie was. He wasn’t exactly a morning person, so it was odd for him to not be here. But given the notes, she figured he had some sort of plan.

On her toothbrush:

Your smile is my favourite (yes even with the gap) it might not be perfect but it always brightens my day.

Then again on her hair brush:

I love your curls, especially when you leave them all wild and free, and the fact that you trust me to help you with them is my highest honour

Julie bit back a grin at that; she had only recently brought Reggie in to help her maintain her curls. He had taken notes, making sure he knew each step, and delighted in helping her wash, condition, and style them. He was surprisingly gentle, and though he could only manage a braid right now Julie had caught him looking up more advanced styles to try.

Julie couldn’t wait to see what he came up with honestly.

Another note was waiting for her on her dresser.

Though my favourite outfit on you is nothing but a smile, I do love your style, no matter what you wear.

Julie blushed at that-Reggie had always been pretty vocal about loving her curves, and worshipped them often-especially on days she chose to flaunt them. But today was just going to be them, so she decided on comfort over fashion-leggings, a crop top and Reggie’s own beloved red flannel over top, almost like a hug from the man himself.

Speaking of which, where was Reggie? She loved the romance of these notes but she wanted the real thing. Calling out receives no reply, and her texts go unanswered. She decides to check the yard, since they tend to enjoy spending time in their garden, and finds another note by her sneakers.

The fact that you’re such a sneakerhead is my favourite thing, even if I don’t get it. But I love to see how you doodle on each pair, making them uniquely yours-your creativity astounds me.

There’s no Reggie in the garden, but she does pay some attention to the plants, trimming weeds and watering them as needed. And of course finds another notes on her watering can.

Before you I would never claim to have a green thumb, but the fact that you nurtured that in me is my favourite thing. You make me bloom Julie.

She shakes her head and tucks the note into her pocket-her man is too cute. She makes a pile of the notes once back in the house, smiling at Reggie’s love for her. Wonders where else he might have them hidden, and takes a slow walk through the house.

On the bookshelf: Your mind is my favourite thing, how smart you are (except at math :P) and how you always strive to learn more

On the piano: You are the music of my life, the counterpoint to my melody, and the fact that you share your music with me is my favourite thing.

On the fiddle that Reggie bought her as a joke one year, and she had faithfully learned in retaliation: The fact that you indulge the country boy in me is my favourite thing, and I can’t wait to make our album that does surprisingly well just like we promised each other all those years ago.

The shelf she had made him to display his comics and action figures: I love that you let me be my nerdy self, even sitting through the prequels with me (what a woman!) and let me display all my geeky stuff proudly-the fact that I can be myself with you is my favourite thing.

On the door to the laundry room: You make even the most dull chores fun, because building a life with you is my favourite thing.

Julie heard the front door open then, and rushed to find Reggie entering, plowing into his arms. “You sweet, silly, ridiculous man.”

“Hey darlin’,” he said, beaming as he swung them around. “You find all my notes?”

“I don’t even know, how many did you write?” Julie asked with a laugh.

Reggie shrugged. “Didn’t really keep track. Told you I could never pick just one favourite thing about you.”

Julie pulled him down for a kiss then, a scorching, fiery one that left them both panting. She barely pulled away, their breaths mingling as she whispered “You’re my favourite thing.”

“Sap.”

“So was there a reason for the romantic paper trail?” Julie asked after they had eaten lunch and done a pile of dishes.

“Just felt like doing something special to end the year on,” Reggie replied. “It’s been a heck of a year, and you’ve been my rock through it all-so you deserve a little romance.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” Julie asked.

“Oh trust me, I ask myself that every day,” Reggie replied with a wink.

~

Their afternoon and evening was spent together, loving one another, enjoying one another’s company-nothing spectacular, but to Julie she thought this would always be her favourite way to spend New Years.

They were waiting for the ball to drop in New York, glasses of champagne ready-the neighbours had been setting off fireworks for a few minutes now, and that plus the lights of the tree was all they needed. “Is it weird for us to ring the New Year at eight?” Julie asked.

“You really wanna stay up until midnight?” Reggie countered.

“Fair enough. So did I find all your notes after?” Julie asked, spreading out all the ones she had collected, plus a few Reggie had produced from the oddest places-really when was she supposed to look in the pantry or amongst the DVDs? But she kept each one-she thought about making a scrapbook, something to keep each note safe and treasured as Reggie made her feel.

“I think there’s one last one on the tree,” Reggie said, gesturing to where there was indeed a note stuck in amongst the branches. Julie got up and snatched it, but snuggled right back into his embrace to read it.

Julie, you are my favourite person, and I can’t wait to see what new aspects of you will become my new favourite thing. I want us to spend our lives together so we always keep finding new things to love about one another. So will you be my favourite one and only, and become my wife?

Julie turned to see Reggie there, a hopeful smile on his face, and a gorgeous ring in his hand. “But you always said…”

“Julie, I never thought marriage was something I wanted,” Reggie admitted. “After my parents, I thought it wasn’t for me. But you, you make me want things I never thought I would. Marriage, a family, a happily ever after. But I can only have it with you. You made me believe in love again Julie, and I think that is my favourite thing about you.”

Julie held out her left hand, though it was shaking. “Ask me then, I need to hear the words, to make sure this isn’t a dream.”

Reggie chuckled. “Not a dream darlin’, but you make all my dreams come true. This is just making one of yours real too. So Julie, will you please marry me?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed, watching the ring slide home before pulling him into a hug, almost sobbing as he held her tight, pulling back to kiss her sweetly. They could hear cheers from the television, but they didn’t care, only having eyes for one another.

Later, after drinking champagne and sharing more kisses than she could count, Julie held up her hand, admiring the ring. “You did good,” she commented.

“Your dad helped,” Reggie admitted. “Even offered your grandparents rings for our wedding.”

“I’d love that,” Julie replied, smiling up at him. “So does everyone know?”

“How else do you think I got them to agree to just us on New Years?” Reggie replied. “They’ll be by tomorrow for brunch so you can tell them all then.”

“So we can ring in the New Year as fiancees?” Julie asked. Reggie nodded, smiling into the kiss she offered him. “That’s my new favourite thing.”

“Just wait until I get to call you my wife,” Reggie replied.

Julie shivered at the word, pulling him down for yet another kiss, the sparks from it brighter than the fireworks lighting up the sky, and the ring on her finger. But nothing beat the glow in Reggie’s eyes as they pulled apart or the smile on Julie’s face as she whispered “My husband.”

[queeenpersephone]

hii! just wanted to pop by and say i love love love your iron widow fics so much <33333 binged all your fics on ao3 and by chance stumbled upon your tumblr to read more prompts (loved them) not sure if you are still into tonynat anymore but thank you for your service 🩷 and if by chance you are, would you consider coming back to write fics for tonynat? 😂 i am here anytime for them hehe

hiii omg thank you so much this is so sweet 🥺 i will always be into them haha actually i answered one of those prompts like a week ago - tumblr is so bad at showing you when things are posted lol. i have more in my inbox but i have to kinda take them when inspiration strikes - but asks like these are so inspiring!! i'm still in my reputation series for ironwidow - currently working on fics for both king of my heart and look what you made me do. they are kinda slow going because i'm writing a lot for other fandoms but hoping to have one of them out next month!! you can always send prompts if you'd like for drabbles, and bc this made me smile here's a lil sneak peek of king of my heart:

“Nat,” he breathes over the line, calling for FRIDAY to stop the trace and shut down all recording devices. There’s a moment of soft noises and a thump; he’s sitting down. “Where are you?”

“Unimportant,” she clips in response. It’s only years of training that keeps her tone steady.

Tony has had no such luxury, and he groans at her answer. “Where are you?” He repeats tightly. She can imagine him, sitting hunched over, clutching his chair because he has no physical phone on which to take out his frustrations.

She closes her eyes at the image before she makes them flutter open. “So you can report to Ross?” She accuses, watching the bathroom door. It would be bad for Yelena to see this, to hear him affecting her so. She can’t face the questions or the teasing.

There is a long silence over the line as he digests her words. “Is that what you really think?” He asks finally, the anger palatable in his voice. “After everything?”

This accusation is something she has no response for. She could tell him how hurt she was after he turned her away, how happy she was with him, how regretful she is despite knowing her actions prevented the deaths and capture of their friends. She can feel her heart cracking open again despite how she just stitched it up; she can’t face both Tony and Yelena’s feelings, their censure. The two people she loves more than anyone else. So she pivots.

“I found my sister,” she says. She tries not to think about the way her voice wobbles, but Tony can obviously hear it, if his next words are any indication.

To his credit, Tony says nothing about her having a sister he’s never heard of. She can almost hear his brilliant mind whirling, knows he’s probably already fixating on that little polaroid on the fireplace. “Oh Nat,” he murmurs, and her heart cracks a little more. “How can I help?”

She fights back tears. Some ex-Russian assassin. “Barton and I failed when we tried to destroy the Red Room,” she tells him. “We failed, and there are more Widows because of it.” She pauses. “We’re going after it, Tony. All those girls.”

“I’m coming with you.”

Her heart stops. This is a response she had not expected, could not expect. “The Accords-”

Tony scoffs. “Fuck the Accords. These men are trafficking young girls, yeah? I don’t give a rat’s ass about jurisdiction, Romanoff.”

She smiles despite herself. “We’re still gathering intel,” she tells him, her voice noticeably warmer. “I’ll call if I need the firepower.”

She can hear some fumbling on the other end. “Swear to me, Nat,” he says, serious and low.

“I promise,” she says. It might be a lie, but then again, he knows that. Is probably preparing to help her anyways.

[giantroboticplatypusbutt218]

Static

This is Part 4 of the Magnetic Attraction series.

Rating: General Audiences

Content Warnings: Fantastic Racism, Internalized Homophobia.

Summary: Tech finally seems to be on the right path to discovering his hidden powers and Rev decides to start setting up that party he promised for when he succeeds. Unbeknownst to each other, their progress is hindered by troubling memories and uncomfortable conversations.

Word Count: 8168

Here's the link to this work on Ao3, otherwise:

~

The sound of Ace’s footsteps contrasted sharply with the otherwise complete silence as he stepped into the lounge. Were it not for the bright red crest sticking up from the center cushion of the lounge sofa, Ace might have assumed nobody was there. But, somebody was there, and he happened to be the person he was looking for.

“Morning Rev,” he said, walking around the center couch and peering down at him. 

“Hey,” Rev replied absently.

He was just… sitting there… staring at a plain ceramic mug on the coffee table. The TV wasn’t on, and he wasn’t talking or reading or… doing anything. Anything other than… staring. 

“Are you… doing some weird sciency thing I’ve never heard of?” 

Rev made a noncommittal noise. 

“Uh… okay. Well,” Ace huffed and crossed his arms, “Tech wanted me to let you know that you shouldn’t bring anything electronic or filled with flammable gas out back today. He’s testing his new powers or something.” 

“Tech?” Finally, Rev blinked, looking up at him. “Oh, he is?” 

“Yeah.” Ace rolled his eyes. “Hey, any idea why Mr. Million Powers couldn’t use the power of talking to you himself instead of sending me to do his errands?” After a brief pause, he pursed his lips. “You guys didn’t get in a fight or something, did ya?”

“No. Um.” Rev stood up, looking around. “Look, I promised to throw him a party if he figured out how to create an EMP himself, so, I’ve gotta get started on that.” 

“Ugh. Like that guy needs more of an ego boost.”

But Rev didn’t hear any of that, because he was already gone. 

Sighing, Ace turned and walked away. 

“Something’s funky with him. What does Rev even need coffee for anyway? Unlike Duck, Rev’s always seemed like more of an early bird.” His chuckle echoed awkwardly across the lounge. “Eh, I’m sure it’s nothing important. Everyone has their off days.” 

-

“That should do it.” 

Tech released his magnetic grasp from a rod that was now firmly planted into the ground. It was sticking straight up and topped with a smooth metallic ball. 

Cool morning dew dampened the fur below his ankles, and soft grass cushioned the ground below his paws. When Tech first began to set up his equipment, the fields were thick with mist, and though a deep breath confirmed the damp air, the mist was no longer present. 

“Alright. I’m thoroughly grounded and the air is conductive enough to pull away any stray charge. If there’s any time to train my ability to create and control electricity, especially something as strong as an EMP, this is it.”

He stared down the metallic rod as he stepped a few meters away, making sure to side-step the folding table he set up nearby. 

“Creating an arc from this distance would definitively prove my understanding and mastery over electromagnetism. I just have to do it.” 

Closing his eyes, he took another deep breath. 

“Rev knows I can do it.” 

The field blinked into view again, but Tech lost focus of the rod and looked at the folding table, specifically a plain ceramic mug sitting on top of it. 

Huffing, he yanked his focus back to the target. 

“I know I can do it. I just have to try.” 

He raised his hands. They came to life with green energy. 

“Here I go,” he said assuredly.

But his eyes flicked again to the coffee mug. 

-

“Alright. Party supplies. Party supplies.” 

Rev turned a corner. 

“I’ll need tables. Supply closet. There should be some there.” 

He turned another corner. Down the hall, gymnastic supplies as well as a bunch of other things were flooding out of the open closet door.

Rev sighed, running over and beginning to pick things up and properly put them away. Ironically, he was often in charge of cleaning up anyway. 

Now that everything wasn’t teetering like how Slam and Lexi left it and Duck later released it, Rev dug a little deeper to find some fold-out tables. 

“Alright. Tables. Where to put them? Sparring room. Nobody should mind.” 

He briefly set down the tables to stack them in a big pile, then picked them up from the bottom to move them. 

Given the weight and precariousness of the tables, he decided to take the short trip to the sparring room slowly. Though, as he stepped forward, his eyes landed on a few colorful sticky notes littering the ground. 

Not paying attention, the tables started to slide. 

“Wh-!” 

And apparently, he really wasn’t paying attention, because Slam was there to easily catch the tables with one arm. 

“Oh. Thanks for the save, Slam.” 

When the tables evened out in Rev’s grasp, Slam looked the stack up and down, then tilted his head.

“Want some help?” he offered. 

“No thanks,” Rev replied, a little coldly. “I can handle this alone.” 

Before he could see Slam’s pout, Rev was already making his way to the sparring hall, being sure to not lose his balance this time.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he came to a stop at the sparring hall door. 

“Ugh. Great.” 

Rev set the stack of tables down and then opened the door, pulling it as wide as it could go before kicking down the door holder.

Now. The smart thing to do, Rev thought, would be to bring in a few tables at a time so they could fit through the door more easily. It would take more time, but would also be safer.

He grabbed the entire stack again and started to grapple the tables through the doorway.

Surprising no one, including himself, the tables slipped out of his grasp and crashed down around him. 

Looking up from the wreck with a pained hiss, Rev saw Slam standing just outside the doorway, looking concerned. 

“I’m fine,” Rev huffed, awkwardly pulling himself out of the pile of tables. “Just go do whatever you were going to do before you saw me. I don’t need any help.” 

Slam rubbed his arm, muttering a barely audible “okay” before sulking over to the weight room. 

Sighing, Rev wiped a hand across his face. “Great. Are there any more friends I can make feel bad today? Maybe I can pull off a new record…” 

With nobody there to comment, Rev simply got back to the annoying process of moving tables.

-

“Here I go.” 

Tech could feel the energy as he pointed his hands at the metallic rod, but it didn’t feel that much different from his usual magnetic manipulation. 

“Here. I go.” 

He knew how to do it. He knew he did. He did it last night while barely thinking about it. 

Barely thinking. 

He glanced at the ceramic mug again. 

Yanking his head back toward his target, he groaned. 

“Here. I. Go.” 

The method was simple. The power was within reach. Rev believed in him, so-

He shook his head. Focus. He needed to focus. 

-

The tables were now set up but there was nothing on them so now it was time to fix that. 

Rev shot out of the sparring hall… and stopped immediately. 

There were still sticky notes on the floor from yesterday evening. 

Sighing, he decided he had to clean those up before any kind of party could be held. The last thing he or Tech needed was a bunch of mistakes littering the ground. 

One by one Rev went to every sticky note he saw and snatched them off the ground. By the time he was done, he had made his way through the hall and into the lounge and was holding onto a stack of notes that was a centimeter thick. 

Against his better judgment, he inspected the pile of notes, learning nothing new and leaving him with shame clawing his throat. 

He was supposed to relax. That’s the thing Tech wanted most from him. To relax. Even a week ago, Tech told him he’d make mistakes and that it shouldn’t upset him so much. But he didn’t listen. Instead, he covered his room and himself with historical trivia and ignored the myriad of tips he read to just listen to what actual coyotes had to say. Why would he need to listen, right? If he just knew every possible way he could screw up, then he wouldn’t, right? Except, it didn’t work like that. And somewhere in his head, he knew it didn’t work like that. But doing obsessive research was easier than acknowledging that he was going to make mistakes eventually. 

And in the end, he chose the easier option. To run. And he hurt his friend anyway. 

Rev growled and tried to tear up the notes, but the stack was too thick. Frustrated, he ran toward the nearest recycling bin to hurl them inside… and stopped when he reached the back exit. 

Through the glass window of the door, he could see Tech out in the field, dressed in shorts and a tank top, standing next to a table with some supplies on it. His hands were stretched out toward a pole in the ground, making motions that implied something was happening when nothing apparent was. 

Maybe he was doing warm-ups. There was probably no reason to be worried about him.

After lingering at the door for what was probably too long, Rev decided he’d run to the recycling bin in the kitchen rather than use the one just outside. Plus, he’d changed into his hero suit complete with all the attached electronics this morning, so it wasn’t safe to go out back anyway.

He reached the kitchen in an instant, tossing the notes less aggressively than he had planned a minute ago. Seeing Tech just sapped the anger out of him. For a moment, he lingered on why, but simply decided he needed to put his focus back on setting up the party. With a sigh, he turned around. 

And yelped. 

“Good morning Rev,” Lexi said, smirking. “Sleep well?” 

“Uh…” That… was an interesting question; Interesting in that she should already know the answer, given she also knows how he usually sleeps as well as… some recent circumstances… Still, he had to reply with something. Hopefully something that results in less teasing. 

“Yeah,” he said simply, trying to ignore how that answer made him feel. 

“That’s great,” she replied, seemingly dropping the subject to Rev’s relief. “But, before you run off, follow me. We need to talk about something.” 

And the relief was gone. Rev could only think of two things they could possibly need to talk about, and he didn’t like either one. But what was he going to do? Refuse? 

Run?

He sighed. 

“Alright. Where’re we going?” 

-

Tech groaned. 

Something wasn’t working. He was trying his best and nothing was happening. 

Sighing, he took a few steps toward the fold-out table. Maybe he needed to stop and think this through. 

Despite his mind drifting to how he should ignore the mug he had set down earlier, he managed to notice a strange feeling as he placed a hand on the hard plastic surface of the table he was about to lean on. A familiar tugging of his fur and soft crinkling below his fingers. 

“Huh.”

He wiped his hand across the table’s surface, continuing to feel and hear that soft crinkle.

Well, it turned out something was happening. There was nothing in the environment that would have caused that sort of static buildup, so it must have been him. Though unintentional, that was progress, right? 

Still, it wasn’t great that he was altering the charge of objects in his vicinity unintentionally. At least he warned everyone to keep their electronics and combustible fuels away from him, because the exact scenario that warranted caution appeared to be happening. 

It wasn’t enough that he could manipulate the charge of the objects around him; He had to be able to control the charges as well. He had to be aware of where the charge imbalances were occurring… otherwise he wouldn’t be able to manipulate a discharge from that imbalance. 

This was getting dangerous… but also more promising. Maybe. Hopefully it meant that he’d have some progress worthy of telling Rev about later.

Rev…

Before his eyes could wander, he caught himself and sighed. 

Focus. The later it gets, the less conductive the air will become, the more likely he is to cause an unintentional discharge.

Back to work. 

-

As it turned out, Lexi was taking Rev to the quiet room; One of the safe havens in headquarters where you could escape all the noise, or make some noise without bothering anyone else. More specifically, it was one of the select rooms in the base completely soundproofed to protect Lexi’s sanity, and everyone’s privacy. Since she was going into the room with him, that obviously wasn’t its purpose at the moment. 

When not being used to escape the laughter of sitcom marathons or the beeping of arcade machines, it made an excellent space to just sit down and think without distractions. Inside were a couple of sofas, bookshelves, a writing desk, and Ace’s meditation pad. Rev found the room absolutely unbearable, and figured it was only going to feel even worse considering he was about to have some sort of tough conversation there. 

Lexi opened the door and he could immediately see Ace leaning against the arm of the sofa directly ahead, looking somewhat displeased to be there. Ah. So this was about his comments yesterday. It was still not something he wanted to talk about, but at least the conversation probably wouldn’t involve Tech in any way. 

Though, as he and Lexi stepped inside, Rev noticed Duck sitting on top of one of the bookshelves, looking down at them from his higher vantage point. 

Rev tilted his head. 

“Uh, what’s Duck doing here?” 

Atop his perch, Duck huffed. 

“You make it sound like you don’t want me around.” 

He kind of didn’t, but he also didn’t want an argument at the moment. 

“It’s not that, I just thought only Lexi and Ace were going to talk to me.” 

“Well, when I heard about how they were gonna teach you how gender stuff works, I just knew I had to stick around for that trainwreck!” 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence…” 

“You’re welcome!” 

Lexi whispered, “sorry, we couldn’t get him to leave,” and patted him on the shoulder, before gesturing to take a seat on the same sofa as Ace. 

As he took those few agonizing steps to sit down, the thought flashed in his mind that he should have done some research at some point so he didn’t have to do this. Just as fast he mentally slapped himself on the back of the head with a metaphorical rolled-up newspaper. He was inevitably going to have blind spots in his research, and he had more knowledgeable friends who wanted to help him. 

This was going to suck… but he just had to deal with it. There was no reason to feel so averse to having his biases called out. And maybe… getting through this conversation would make it easier to have any similar ones with Tech in the future. 

Sitting down, anxiety curled in his gut as usual, but he wasn’t going to let it get past his resolve to be better. To stop running.

-

Tech was beginning to feel like an idiot, which was not a feeling that he often had. 

“Alright, new plan,” he said, walking over to the conductive rod. “Despite having proven that I have some capability to manipulate electricity as demonstrated last night-”

He paused, swallowing thickly before continuing his train of thought. 

“Despite having concrete proof of my abilities, I may find more success in mimicking the distance at which I first performed the feat and increasing said distance until I can replicate the effect at the desired magnitude.”

It was a good thing that nobody was around to hear him ramble, as he really wouldn’t appreciate someone like Ace chiming in to say, “English please,” while he was already struggling. Obviously Rev would understand what he was saying perfectly, but he-

“I didn’t- I’m not going to screw this up,” Tech huffed, reaching toward the conductive surface. “I just need to- OUCH!”

His finger barely grazed metal before he received a hearty shock, making him hiss and flail the pain away.

“Focus…” he muttered, finishing his interrupted sentence once again. “If I had my wits about me, I would’ve noticed the charge that had accumulated across my fur…” 

He raised his hand again, knowing this time he didn’t have a charge to worry about this time. 

“Start small, work my way up. Surely I’ll get somewhere if I just come at it from a different angle.” 

His hands lit up with energy. 

“‘A different angle…’ Why does that sound familiar…” 

The energy around his hands wavered. Tech growled. 

“It’s fine! I can do this! I just need to focus!” 

A small spark crossed the gap, stinging a finger. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. He needed to control the energy so he wouldn’t hurt himself. 

“Focus!” 

-

Rev’s skull was aching with what felt like a combination of the brain jumble he gets after a research binge and the sharp sting of being shown that he’s wrong about something. This, he thought, made sense, since he was both learning a lot and being shown that a lot of things he thought were wrong. 

“Okay so,” he said, vision almost swimming as he tried to wrap his head around everything, “biological sex is separate from gender, which is also separate from gender presentation, which is also also separate from preferred pronouns, and people can have seemingly random combinations of the aforementioned things, and all of them are separate from sexual orientation?” 

“Yeah,” Lexi said. “See, you’re getting it!” 

“But like, why would a guy choose to dress like a woman but keep a guy’s pronouns while being into women? That sounds really confusing…” 

Duck scoffed. “Because you can appreciate the beauty of feminine attire while also finding women hot, duh.”

“Duck…” Lexi sighed. “If you’re going to be here could you please be a little more understanding? Rev’s new to all this.”

“Are you telling me he’s never seen a dude in a pretty dress before?” 

Ace chimed in, “he’s only gone to private schools with uniforms for most of his life.”

Duck rolled his eyes. “Ugh. Rich people…” 

Rev crossed his arms. “That’s a funny insult coming from the guy who’s had enough ‘get rich quick’ schemes to compete with an MLM convention.” 

“There’s a convention for men loving men?”

“What the heck are you talking about?!” 

“Guys!” Lexi called out. “Could we please stay on topic?” 

After a brief pause, Rev uttered a soft apology while Duck gave a silent shrug. 

-

The noon sun shone fiercely as Tech was met with failure after failure. 

His eyes drifted to the mirages over the asphalt track, then shot back to his target. 

His eyes drifted to the back entrance to HQ, then shot back to his target. 

His eyes drifted to the plastic table he had brought out. To the coffee mug sitting on top of it. 

…

“Focus!” 

His eyes shot back to his target.

He could feel the sweat building under his fur. And the silence. The horrible, horrible, silence. 

Out in the field, it was just him and his reflection on the metallic sphere atop the conductive pole. No voice to keep him company. To remind him he should probably eat something. To offer suggestions that might not be what he needs, but would help him figure out what he does. 

“Focus!”

Each breath stung his nose and mouth with hot, dry air. The grass poked and prodded his paws as he shifted in place. Every strand of fur on his body stuck straight out and repelled each other. 

Tech didn’t notice any of this. 

His thoughts swarmed. He wasn’t thinking. He was the smart one. The careful one. Yet, he didn’t think. He should have thought harder.

“It’s fine! We’re fine! We’ll- We can-” 

With a stomp of his foot, he looked again at his target. 

“FOCUS!” 

And now, he was alone. It was going so well, and then he screwed up, and now he’s alone. 

Tech screamed, throwing a punch at his own reflection. 

The regret was instant and painful. 

With a thundering shock, he was blown back several meters, landing in a smoldering pile beside his supply table. 

Once his regeneration kicked in, he sat up. 

The grass was singed, but thankfully, not on fire. Still, that was a massive failure of reasoning on his part. All the signs pointing to that outcome were there, but he didn’t pay attention to any of them. Instead, he let his mind keep wandering to… 

To…

Eyes squeezing closed, Tech yanked his ears and let out a wail that echoed across the empty field.

-

Rev wiped a hand across his face, feeling like he’s been in the quiet room for years… when in reality it probably hadn’t been even a few hours. 

“Okay, so I still don’t get how a guy who dresses as a woman wouldn’t just be trans. I know that ‘sex’ and ‘gender’ and ‘presentation’ and whatever aren’t the same, but if someone can just choose to be another gender, why wouldn’t they just choose to be the gender that they dress up as?”

“People don’t really ‘choose’ to be a specific gender,” Lexi explained. “They just sort of feel like a certain gender, and then choose to express their gender in different ways.” 

“You can also feel like a bunch of different genders, or none at all!” Ace piped up excitedly. “Sometimes it’s a ‘woman’ day so you dress feminine. Sometimes it’s a ‘man’ day so you dress masculine. Sometimes it's an ‘agender’ day so you wear whatever. Or sometimes it’s even a ‘man’ day but you just wanna dress femininely.” Then, he pouted and looked off at the opposite wall. “Or… you just dress in the same super suit as everyone else all the time because it’s got a bunch of dohickeys in it that help you do hero stuff…” 

Rev tilted his head. “But if you sometimes don’t feel like a guy, wouldn’t that mean you’re trans?” 

“Me? Kinda. There’s not really any one gender I feel attached to for long, so I’d sort of consider myself nonbinary, even if I don’t care if most people see me as a guy most of the time.” 

“But wouldn’t you want to be seen as whatever gender you’re feeling?”

“I mean, we’d probably need a calendar in the lounge to let everyone know what I’m feeling each day, which is just a lot of work for something that doesn’t matter much to me, personally.” 

Rev let out an anxious sigh, burying his head in his hands. “This is really confusing…” 

“Well…” Lexi said, “it can be kind of confusing, but even if you’re confused, you can still respect people’s identities regardless. It’s pretty rude to decide how people should express themselves just because of how you think they should be.”

“I, for example,” Duck firmly spoke up, “would prefer to be seen as a man no matter what I’m wearing. So don’t go thinking I’m a lady just because I sometimes prefer to be gorgeous.” 

“Ugh. You may prefer to be gorgeous, but your outfits say otherwise.” 

“Hey!” 

“Come on, Lex,” Ace said. “Duck’s got plenty of style!” 

“Of course you’d say that,” she retorted with a roll of her eyes. “Only the queen of gaudy outfits would think the stuff Duck wears is stylish.” 

Rev frowned. “Wait…” All eyes went to him, making his throat feel tighter. But… he had to ask… “Lexi, didn’t you just say it’s wrong to decide how people express themselves?” 

Her eyes went wide. “Wh-! That’s not the same thing!” she yelped. “It’s not like I’m saying they can’t dress in feminine clothes, they just have terrible taste! The outfit you picked out yesterday was perfectly fine!” 

“But why does it matter if their outfits look nice to you? It’s how they choose to express themselves. I don’t get how it’s okay to tell Ace and Duck they’re not dressing the right way, but it’s not okay to do the same to someone you don’t understand. Why would it even matter?” 

“I…” Her gaze drifted, seeing Duck crossed-armed and refusing to look at her, and Ace rubbing his arm and looking hurt. “I’m… sorry…” She sighed, looking away. “It really shouldn’t matter to me how you guys choose to look. Even if I don’t like it, I shouldn’t judge…” 

“Oh.” Ace smiled lightly, brushing his ears back. “Well, thanks for… actually apologizing. I… honestly thought you were gonna be grilling me for my wardrobe for the rest of my life.” 

Duck glanced at her briefly, before looking away again. “Well, it’s not like I ever cared about what you thought… but it would be nice to have you stop being so judgy all the time.” 

“I won’t say anything about it again,” Lexi said. “I promise.” 

The room went quiet. On the one hand, Ace and Duck seemed to be radiating relief. On the other, Lexi seemed a bit ashamed. 

Though, if he were the one who just got called out like that, Rev thinks he’d be on the verge of tears. Maybe he was being a little harsh on her? He really was just trying to understand everything better. 

Before he could ponder it further, Ace clapped him on the shoulder. 

“Well, I believe the student has become the master. Well done; lesson time is over.” 

“I don’t feel like a master…” Rev muttered.

“We brought you here to teach you, and you ended up teaching Lexi. I think that qualifies.”

“I really don’t think it does.” 

“Sure it does,” Ace said standing up. “Especially since I’m sick of sitting here, and I have a feeling you are too.”

“I guess you’ve got me there.” Rev pushed himself off the sofa. 

Ace turned his attention to the top of the bookshelf. “Hey Duck, how do you feel about a fashion show without worrying someone’s gonna come in sneering from the sidelines?”

“Sounds great!” Duck warped down to the floor beside Ace. “See ya later!” 

And with that, Duck and Ace warped away. 

As silence filled the room once again, Rev looked down at Lexi, who still had a look of shame across her face. 

“Um, sorry about calling you out in front of everybody. I didn’t think about the kind of position it’d put you in.” 

“No, it’s fine,” she said, getting up from her seat. “This whole meeting was about educating biases and stuff, and I… needed to be given the perspective…” Looking at him, she gave him a playful nudge. “Besides, I did a fraction of the learning you just did. You managed to stick around despite how awkward it all was, so I can get over being called out for being judgy.”

“You sure you’re okay?” 

“Of course. You did the right thing, Rev. Real friends call out their friends when they’re doing something wrong, and real friends listen to what they have to say.” 

“I… guess so.” She… was doing pretty well about the whole thing. Is this how normal people react to making mistakes? If so, he was definitely making things a lot more awkward for Tech then, huh?

Lexi walked past him, opening the door. “I’m gonna go play something to take my mind off of the embarrassment. You joining?” 

Rev followed her out the door, but stopped just outside. “Actually, I was in the middle of something when you found me. So I think I’m gonna get back to that.” 

She shrugged. “Well, you know where to find me. And, even if you didn’t, it wouldn’t take you long to find me anyway.” 

Rev snickered. “That’s true.” 

“Later, Rev.” 

“Bye, Lexi.” 

As Lexi turned the corner into the living room, Rev looked the other way toward the patio door, remembering that Tech was out there earlier. In an instant, he was at the door. 

Rev almost thought Tech had gone inside, but, just beside the table out in the field, Tech was laying in the fetal position on the ground, back turned toward the building. 

“Tech…”

Earlier, Rev ignored his concerns to assume Tech was just ‘warming up.’ But… after what happened this morning… it was understandable why he was having problems. 

The party would have to wait. First, he had to apologize, but how? He… really screwed up. The last thing he wanted to do was get stuck on what to say. Not again…

Heavy footsteps caught Rev’s attention, pulling his gaze toward Slam, who was trudging his way through the lounge after a presumably long workout. 

Speaking of apologies… he kinda owed one to Slam as well. 

Before he could second guess himself, Rev dashed over. 

“Uh, hey Slam!” he greeted.

Slam tilted his head. “Hey?” 

“Uh…” Rev scratched his neck. “Sorry for… being kinda cold earlier. I was going through my own thing and didn’t really think about how rude it was to push you away like that. I probably could’ve declined a little more nicely.” 

Smiling bashfully, Slam waved away Rev’s concerns. “It’s okay.” 

“You sure?”

Nodding, Slam started walking down the hall, giving a farewell wave a little distance away. 

“Yeah uh, later Slam!” 

That… wasn’t too bad. But now, he had to go apologize to Tech. 

Letting out a sigh, Rev ran his fingers through his crest and looked around. That’s when his gaze landed on the ceramic mug on the coffee table. 

Slowly, he walked toward it, coming to a stop right where he had been sitting that morning. 

And where he had been sleeping a little earlier. 

Rev sat down again, eyes transfixed on the simple object. 

Closing his eyes, he sighed. 

“I’m sorry, Tech. I let my fear get the best of me again… and you suffered for it… again…” 

His eyes opened… then drifted a bit further. 

The back of the remote… it was still sitting on the table. It wasn’t clicked back into its proper place. 

Sure enough, with a quick flick of his head Rev saw the remote sitting on the arm of the same sofa, right where Tech had been sitting last night. 

And the TV… it was off. It was off when he woke up. So, unless he managed to sleep through multiple hours of TV noise without waking… Tech managed to turn the TV off… without disturbing him in his sleep.

But… Tech was still struggling to control his new power… 

Rev definitely faulted himself for that… but he was going to make it right. 

And he had an idea how. 

First came off his bracers and cowl, which both were set on the coffee table. Then, off came his boots, which he slid underneath. 

Tech was going to succeed one way or the other, and the electronics on those parts of Rev’s suit could get damaged in the process. 

Lastly, he took the mug gently into his hands, and began the long walk to his struggling friend. 

~

Earlier that morning…

Before he opened his eyes, Rev took a slow, deep breath, and the scent of comfort washed through him. For some reason, Rev felt absolutely refreshed for the first time in years. Ironically, it made him love being in bed more. He nuzzled his beak into the warmth of his pillow, which… 

…was furrier than he remembered. 

Now that he thought about it, his mattress was also firmer. His blanket too. 

Eyes shooting open, his heart pounded as he tried to get a grip of his situation. 

He choked on a gasp, seeing Tech peacefully sleeping below him. 

This was… bad? Good? A lot. Rev decided on a lot. That was the only thing he could be sure of as his heart was pounding and his thoughts were racing and… 

And he couldn’t pull himself away because Tech had his arms wrapped firmly around him. 

Multiple things shot through his mind. Trapped! Snug. Danger! Safe. Wrong! Home. Floating around was the realization that he was only so refreshed because Tech prevented him from rolling onto the floor, but he couldn’t process that alongside all the other things he couldn’t process. 

Then, Tech’s eyes blinked open. 

Somewhere, Rev knew he should calm down. Wherever that was, it wasn’t here. 

“Mmf… Rev?” Tech blinked again, and then his eyes widened. “Oh! I didn’t-!” Instantly he released him. 

Before thinking, Rev threw himself back. Almost instantly, something strong urged him to throw himself right back. He didn’t. 

“Hey! I- I’m really sorry!” 

Inside Rev’s head was a barrage of conflicting screams and commands. Outside, he was frozen, staring and panting as his heart continued to pound. 

Inside Tech, multiple things were shattering. But it didn’t matter right now. Rev had fear in his eyes and he had to do something.

“I didn’t mean for us to fall asleep like that, I promise! You were asleep and I didn’t want to move and- Oh god that doesn’t help…” 

Tech looked away, only for his eyes to land on two somethings on the coffee table. 

Two coffee mugs.

Lexi had seen them and set aside some coffee. 

Panic shot through him as he looked back to Rev, whose gaze was returning from the same direction. He had seen the same thing and likely came to the same conclusion.

“Rev, she’s not gonna say anything,” he pleaded, trying desperately to level out his voice. “She already keeps so many secrets, this is just another one.” 

But Rev was still breathing hard, eyes unfocused and anxious. 

To make it worse, the sound of Ace and Duck’s voices began filtering in from down the hall. 

Rev shot up from the couch. 

Against his better judgment, Tech stood up as well. 

“There’s nothing for them to be suspicious of, Rev. You don’t need to freak out.” 

Rev’s head swished away to Tech to away to Tech again. 

“Please. I promise I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

More panting. More looking away. 

The voices down the hall continued getting louder. 

“Just calm down. We can talk about this.” 

The voices got louder.

And Rev ran. 

“Rev-!” 

But he was gone…

And the rest of the team didn’t even notice Tech was there as they walked past. They just made their way into the kitchen without even a glance in his direction.

Sighing, Tech looked down at the coffee mugs. 

It was clear which was his, as Lexi knew he preferred quite a bit more sugar and cream than he was willing to admit to anyone else. 

And it looked like Rev took his coffee black. 

Tech wanted to think about how interesting that was, but as he picked up his coffee, he decided that thinking about Rev was just going to hurt his soul too much at the moment. 

The edge of the mug touched his lips for a brief moment, before he pulled it away. 

All things considered, Tech felt pretty refreshed. And… it was because having Rev sleeping against him made him reconsider getting up, which would have possibly led to him working later than he should. 

Well, he’d keep the coffee anyway. Maybe he’ll want some later. Besides, he had work to do. For the past week, he had been trying to produce an EMP, and he had just figured out one key component in achieving just that. Rev was going to be ecstatic when he-

Tech sighed, walking toward his room. 

He didn’t need to think about Rev right now. He’ll get dressed in proper attire, warn the rest of the team not to bring sensitive materials out back, and ask one of them to inform Rev on his behalf. After that, he needed to keep Rev out of his head. He had work to do. 

He had to focus.

…

Before Tech opened his bedroom door… his eyes drifted to the mug in his hands. 

~

The current afternoon…

If he thought the dry grass was uncomfortable against his paws, it was definitely uncomfortable against his head and ears. But, that didn’t matter. The only thing he had energy for was laying next to the foldout table and failing to stop thinking about that morning. It was especially hard not to think about, because the lack of energy was coming from his will to keep working, and not from a lack of physical energy. As was true that morning, he was actually well rested, and that only made his thoughts more clear and painful. 

Interrupting Tech’s thoughts, footsteps slowly crunched in the grass toward him. They were too light to be Slam’s, and Duck wouldn’t have bothered with walking outside in this heat. That just left Lexi or Ace, neither of whom he was in the mood to talk to. 

“If you’re here to question if I’m fine, I am. I just decided to lie down to get some more blood flowing to the brain. It’s a thing only geniuses like myself understand. So, you can leave me alone now.” 

The footsteps stopped briefly, then continued closer. 

Tech sighed. 

But then, they stopped, and…

“Tech.”

It was like he was slapped into reality as Tech shot up onto his feet. 

“Rev-! Uh, I thought someone else was… uh… there.” 

Finally, he looked him over, seeing a somber expression on his face and his hand cupping the top and bottom of a coffee mug. 

Presumably, the coffee mug Lexi had given him that morning. 

Clearing his throat, Tech looked away. “Sorry… about this morning. And last night too. Just… all of it. I… should have considered my actions more thoroughly.” 

It went quiet. Tech felt the urge to look back at Rev, but worried he might not be there.

Then, the words coming out much slower than usual…

“Can I… tell you a secret? Something… I’ve only told Lexi?” 

Unease crawled up Tech’s spine as his words reached him. He looked at him for an explanation, but Rev’s gaze was settled on the mug in his hands.

“Of course. Say whatever you want.” 

Rev took a deep breath in, closed his eyes, and slowly let it out. 

“Ever since I got my powers… I started tossing and turning in bed worse than I ever had before. Instead of just waking up from a rough night of sleep… I’d roll out of bed in my sleep and wake up after hitting the floor. It happens… at least a few times every night.” 

Eyes slowly opening, a sad smile crept across Rev’s beak. 

“The rest of the team thinks I’m an early bird, but really… you can only handle being abruptly smacked awake so many times before you get sick of crawling back into bed. And, despite my powers giving me way too much energy… I’m pretty much a zombie every morning until I’ve had a cup of coffee…” 

With that, Rev brought his mug over to the table, setting it down with a deep thunk.

Tech blinked, tilting his head and seeing that it was just as full as it was when they woke up. 

His eyes flicked back to Rev, and his sad smile was replaced with a more hopeful one. And sure enough, his tone was more lively as well.

“But this morning… I didn’t wake up on the floor. I was… comfortable. Refreshed. For a moment, I just wanted to stay right where I was and savor it.” Slowly a frown overtook his face as he looked away. “Of course… I eventually realized what had happened, and I felt… scared. But… I also felt safe, at the same time. I felt… a lot of things, honestly. Good and bad. But I couldn’t really make sense of any of them at the time. And when you woke up… and let go of me… and I backed away… I was feeling… even more.” 

Rev ran his fingers through his crest, sighing. “And then we saw the coffee Lexi left us, and I was embarrassed, and then the rest of the team was walking closer, and…” With a groan, he wiped his face. “And I ran away…” 

Tech rubbed his arm awkwardly, standing around for agonizing seconds not knowing where he and Rev stood at the moment. All he knew, was that Rev was still scared that morning. “I understand,” he said. “Really, I’m… very sorry for putting you in that position.” 

Rev returned his gaze to Tech. 

“I came back to the lounge… after you left…” 

The coffee mugs stood at the corner of Tech’s vision. 

“I assume not for a drink,” he said cautiously. 

“No,” Rev said. “I… needed to think about what happened. Everything that happened.” 

Tech listened, throat tight and jaw clenched almost painfully. 

“When I first woke up… I felt better than I had waking up in years. It was only when I started overthinking that all the bad stuff crept in. Then I just spiraled and spiraled until I…” Rev paused, then took another deep breath. “Tech, I’m sorry for running away again. Not just literally but, also avoiding having a conversation about what was going on. I left you alone and… clearly feeling terrible about everything…” 

Well, he couldn’t deny that…

“What happened was too much…” Rev continued, “and I wasn’t ready to wake up like that… but I don’t want you to feel too bad about it. It means a lot that you want to apologize, but honestly, your mistake feels like nothing in comparison to my problem with ditching you when I get scared.” 

Tech crossed his arms, pursing his lips. “Even so, I still think it deserves an apology. Despite knowing I needed to be careful with our relationship, I didn’t take the steps necessary to prevent myself from hurting you.”

“I… guess that’s true…” Rev admitted. “You can know you’re forgiven, then. And… I also want you to know I really want to be better. I promise that I’m trying. It’s still really hard to talk about my feelings… and about why I’m bad with making mistakes… But even if it’s hard… I’m working at it.” He sighed, looking away. “I’m not ready to fall asleep with you again… or finish our talk from yesterday, but I really want to.” A shy chuckle escaped his beak. “Especially the first one.” His earnest gaze fell back on Tech. “So, if you’re still willing to deal with… me… I promise that I will do everything I can to not run away again.” 

Tech let out the faintest laugh of relief. “Don’t worry. It’ll take a lot more than that to stop me from wanting you around.” His face softened. “And, I promise to be a little more careful from now on and… and not push you to talk like I did yesterday.”

Rev chuckled lightly. “You can push a little. Sometimes it’s nice to have a nudge to do something more difficult.” 

“Well, I guess I’ll push a little then.” 

They both smiled, the tension from that morning melting away. 

Then, Rev cleared his throat. “So… I couldn’t help but notice the TV was off when I woke up. If I’m not being presumptuous… that means you finally figured out how to create electricity?” 

“I did, though… As you could probably guess, I’ve been having trouble replicating the circumstances to do it again. I… was missing something important during all my attempts today.” 

“Missing something? I could go grab it for you.” 

Tech chuckled, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “It’s not something that you can pick up and bring here.” 

“Well, what is it?” 

This was too cheesy, but…

“A reason to succeed.” 

Rev tilted his head, giving a confused smile. “What?” 

“Stand back a bit. I’ll show you.”

“Uh, okay!” Rev ran back a good 20 meters. “Is this far enough?!” He called out. 

“Perfect!” Tech called back, a nervous smile creeping across his face as he turned his attention to the same metallic rod that had been giving him trouble all morning. 

Rev knew he could do this. He believed in him. And Tech knew he could too. 

Tech looked behind him, seeing a pair of nearly full coffee mugs, and a bit further, the cheerful expression of the most important person in his life. 

His gaze returned to his target, and so did his mind. It was so similar to his magnetic manipulation. He had the ability to control it. 

His hands lit up with green energy. 

And then. 

BOOM!

A thrill ran up Tech’s spine as the air flashed with energy. Even better, he didn’t incinerate himself or any of the surrounding grass. 

“That was awesome!” came Rev’s voice rushing closer. 

Tech barely turned his head to see him before he was wrapped in a hug. 

There was barely a second for his heart to do somersaults in his chest before Rev let go. 

“Ah um-! Haha, sorry.” 

There was nothing that could help the grin on Tech’s face. Without his cowl, the blush on Rev’s beak showed up so nicely and made him look even more adorable. 

“Don’t be. Wherever you’re willing to go, I’m ready to meet you there.” 

Rev chuckled shyly. 

“So… what was that reason you mentioned earlier?” 

Rolling his eyes playfully, Tech pointed right at Rev’s beak and gave it a small nudge for good measure. “You.”

“Me?” 

“Of course. Nothing gets me more fired up to try something difficult than knowing it’ll make the person I care about most happy. Why else would my powers have only worked while you were promising to spend time with me?” 

Rev’s expression was unreadable for a long moment, and Tech was starting to wonder if he went too far already. 

But then Rev’s arms were around him, and everything was perfect in the universe. 

“Well then,” Rev said softly, nudging his beak into Tech’s fur, “you shouldn’t have any problems to worry about from now on, because you make me happy all the time.”

Okay, and now his face was definitely red. “I’ll… keep that in mind…” he managed to wheeze out. 

At this point, Tech expected Rev to let go. What he was not expecting, was for him to hold on tighter.

And now, it felt kind of awkward that his arms were just hanging like limp noodles at his sides. Carefully, and slowly, Tech inched them around Rev’s back. 

“Are you, okay? With this?” 

“Yeah.” Rev let out a quiet laugh. “Honestly, a part of me’s been screaming to do this since I ran off this morning. Maybe it was a bit much to wake up on top of you… but this is… nice.” 

“Well… Good. That’s good. I… feel the same.” With just a little more confidence, he held Rev just a bit closer. 

And then… Rev let out a long sigh, melting fully into his embrace. 

Tech felt lighter than air, practically floating in bliss. He was helpless to stop himself from melting as well. 

How long they stayed locked in their embrace, Tech didn’t know. But it couldn’t last forever. Eventually, something was going to interrupt them. 

But he was not expecting it to be an absolutely ravenous stomach growl. 

An embarrassed laugh from Rev further interrupted the moment. “Uh, sorry,” he said, pulling away slightly. Just enough to look him in the eye. “I just realized… I sort of didn’t drink coffee or eat anything this morning.”

Tech laughed as well. “I didn’t either. I was so busy trying to focus on controlling my powers I guess I lost focus on… literally everything else.” He smiled hopefully. “You wanna grab lunch with me?” 

“Uh, yeah! Of course!” 

Despite the plan, Rev didn’t move. 

“Rev?” 

“Sorry. Just.” He gave him another hug, complete with a firm squeeze, then finally let go. “Alright. And, we should probably bring the mugs in.” 

Tech was still so busy processing the flurry of warm feelings from Rev’s embrace, that he didn’t even notice Rev had grabbed the mugs and started walking until he was a few steps behind. 

“Wait! Hold up.”

Rev stopped. “Oh, sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it. My mind just lagged behind a bit.” 

“Your mind? Lag?” Rev said, smirking as the two of them continued walking together. “What could possibly make the mind of super genius Tech E. Coyote lag behind?” 

“The arms of a charming roadrunner, apparently.” 

Tech continued walking, smirk on his face as Rev froze for quite a few steps. 

“Charming?” Rev breathed, a flush overtaking his beak. Then. “Hey! Wait a minute! That’s not fair!” 

He couldn’t help but laugh as Rev was forced to catch up as he had. 

Tech knew there was going to be a bit of struggle in their relationship, but this was what he was talking about when he said it would be worth it. 

~

(Coming eventually) Link to Magnetic Attraction Part 5 ->