#anyway. yes i am just desperate for content where they’re even vaguely near each other but this is a good arc and i love them <3

[un-pearable]

select panels from return to angel island; or, sonic tags along to watch his boy best friend deal with his shitty father for four half issues, and other ways i can ignore the pain of knuckles still not being in idw

[random-mha-thoughts]

Testing (Todoroki x Reader)

Pairing: Todoroki x Reader

@a5thearmchairexpert250 asked: “Heyo, hope you are doing well during this strange time. Anyway, do you think I can have a oneshot? I see you are a fellow Todoroki fan so I have a oneshot where class-1A goes to the beach for the day? Stay safe”

Genre: Crack/fluff

Word count: 1,429

Tags:  @yuki-osaki​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​ @bunnythepipsqueak​

a/n: It’s 3:30 am and I need to sleep, but I promised to get this out so I banged it out.

So confession, I had no idea what I wanted to do with this, no vague idea for something completely fluffy.  So I went crack. And decided to play a game called “How many times can Shouto be a smooth talker?” And so here we are. I hope you enjoy this piece even if it probably wasn’t what you expected it would turn out to be dear!

"It's nice to finally get a break," I sigh in content.  "Exams really weren't kind to any of us."

"They weren't that hard, love," Todoroki comments."

"Are you calling me dumb, Mr. Gifted?" I smirk teasingly.

"Not at all."  He kisses the top of my head.  "I'm just happy to spend time with you, just the two of us."

It's unfortunate that my boyfriend and I haven't been able to have quality time together.  Both of us agreed to focus on our exams, but it wasn't our best plan.  I could tell it took a toll on both of us, but you know what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder.  It'll make our little date today that much sweeter.  When the class proposed this mini break, we both saw it as an opportunity to enjoy some long-awaited alone time.

"Hey Todoroki, (Y/n)!" Midoriya approaches us with a wide smile, Uraraka by his side in a cute, blushing pink bikini, sunhat, and tote bag.

"Hey you two,"  I wave at them.  They're such a cute couple.  "Where're you guys going?"

"The boardwalk, you know, play some of the games and stuff.  Wanna come with us?" the boy offers.

I'm about to respond, when Shouto's hand around me squeezes me tighter, his already stone expression stiffer.

"Deku, I'm pretty sure they want to be by themselves," Uraraka touches his shoulder.

"Oh, you're right, honey," his freckled cheeks turn pink, "Sorry about that, we'll leave you to it then!"

"Don't worry about it!  Have fun yourselves!"

Shouto guides me in the opposite direction of the couple, starting towards the beach.  "Let's go somewhere else," he says stiffly.

"You must've really missed me to be acting all possessive like that."

The boy looks down at me with his mismatched eyes.  "And you didn't?"

His puppy dog eyes melts my heart and I have to reach up and kiss his cool cheek.  "Of course I did, I'm just better at controlling it."

He grabs my hand and kisses my palm.  "Sometimes I wish you didn't," his voice lowers an octave as he kisses my cheek halfway to my lips.

"One of us has to be level-headed," I tease, but still turn my head to face him properly, my heart skipping a beat.

"Get a room, lovebirds!"

Both of us snap our heads toward the voice as if we've been caught doing something wrong, but Shouto huffs minutely seeing that it's only Kaminari and Mineta.

"Some of us are still painfully single," the blond groans out, about to walk past us.

My eyes widen childishly at their hands holding ice creams.  "Where'd you guys get those?" I ask a bit too giddily.

Mineta points behind him somewhere while the popsicle is still in his mouth.  "There's a lady selling them from a cart-"

"Shouto, let's go get one!" I pull his arm in that general direction.  Anything to get my boyfriend less pouty than he already is.

We find the ice cream cart and get a double sided one to break in half and share as we walk through the hot sand, hands entwined.

"Are you feeling less cranky now?" I tease, finishing the last of my side of the popsicle.

Shouto takes one look at my face and chuckles.  "You're such a mess, love."  His thumb wipes the corner of my mouth, probably stuck with melted, sugary syrup.  "Though, I think it was both a mistake and blessing for us to get the cherry-flavored one.  Let me have a taste?"

"I'd like that," I whisper to him and lean closer.

"BALL!"

Shouto just barely turns his head towards the noise and there's the sound of smacking rubber and a flash of white.  The volleyball, I realize, just hit him smack in the middle of his face.  The boy leans his head onto my shoulder and sighs, and I have to bite my lip to hold back my laughter.  The universe just really loves teasing us today.

"Sorry you guys!"  Hagakure is standing a few yards away, the only reason I can tell is because there's the volleyball in her hands.  Yaomomo, Mina, Jirou, and Tsuyu join her when they hear the screaming, all of them clad in bikinis.

"Oh, it's Todoroki and (Y/n), ribbit," Tsuyu remarks.

"I think you might've intruded on something, Hagakure-san," Yaomomo blushes sheepishly, grabbing the ball out of the invisible girl's hands and ushers the rest away.  "We should leave them alone, come on."

Once the girls are out of sight, Shouto mumbles, "Are they gone now?"

"Aw, poor baby."  I stroke his hair with one of my hands before cradling his face in my hands to examine his face.  "Your poor pretty face was hit."  I pepper kisses on his slightly reddened nose, cheeks and forehead.  "Is it better now?"

"You missed a spot," he pouts and puckers his lips.

"I saved the best for last, don't worry."  I teasingly brush my thumb to his lips that I know weren't even touched by the impact of the ball.

"Oh... You guys are having a thing."

Both of us look over and crane our heads up toward Shouji's head.  For someone so tough looking, he's blushing at his intrusion.  I quickly break my hands away from Shouto's head.

"I was gonna ask you guys to play volleyball with us, but you're busy, so it's cool."  One of his hands motions backwards to another net where Koda, Ojiro, and Sato are facing off with Bakugou, Kirishima, and Sero.  Naturally, Iida's the referee for them, and Aoyama's just sitting under the nearby parasol watching them.

"Ah, it's okay.  Enjoy your game-"

"OI, ICYHOT!  YOU BETTER GET OVER HERE SO I CAN OWN YOUR ASS!" Bakugou starts screaming and I feel Shouto stiffen.

"I'll take care of it," Shouji waves off, "You guys go have your fun."

I want to protest the "fun" part, but Shouto grabs my arm and starts pulling me down the beach forcefully.  "Where are we going?"

"As far away from everyone else as possible."  The edge in his voice makes it obvious that his patience is wearing thin.  He suddenly plunges us through a darkened cave in the rear of the beach, staying near the mouth just so there's enough light to see each other.  He pins me to the cold wall of the cave and bores an intense stare through me.  "We've been interrupted for the entire time, I think we deserve some privacy."

"I agree, but a cave, Shouto?  Is that what you've resorted to?"  I'm not scared of being in a cave.  Actually, yes I am, what if there's something frightening in here that wants to kill us?  "We could've just gone to some secluded area of the beach."

"I've been waiting, (Y/n), I'm desperate."  Even though he's clearly ticked off, I understand where he's coming from.  I can't say I'm not disappointed, but it's just what happens sometimes.

"Shouto, we made a mistake leaving each other to study for exams.  Look where it's gotten us, in a cave.  Do you really want to spend our entire sunny beach day in a dark cave?"  I'm trying to lighten the mood, but he's not budging, so I sigh, taking his head in my hands.  "I want to be alone with you too, but today the universe is just not having any of it.  But it's okay, we have the entire rest of summer break to be with each other.  Maybe we need to be spending time with our friends for a while, then we can sneak away and have some time to ourselves, hm?  I promise."

The way his lip juts out like a kid makes me laugh at him.

"You're such a spoiled child, as expected being the youngest sibling."  I knock his forehead with mine.

"I want you to spoil me, as I want to spoil you too."  His mouth quirks up and he - finally - kisses my lips, hugging me to his body tightly.  It's only then I realize how much I craved him too, letting myself get lost in him.

"Hey, I understand you guys are having a moment."  Both of us quickly break away, hearts pounding from both the kiss and being caught off guard.  Tokoyami is crouched in a fetal position against a rock, nibbling on some half-eaten bread.  "But you really don't want to be here right now."  The bird boy looks like he's going through some stuff, his life is falling apart at the seams as he watches and can't do anything about it.

[russian-romanova]

sunday

title: sunday

pairing: joe goldberg

warnings: spoilers through season one of ‘you’. adult language. mentions of death, stalking and sexual content. mature themes explored by and mentioned in ‘you’. JOE IS NOT A GOOD GUY, HE’S JUST HOT. 

notes: i have no idea what this is. word vomit. joe’s point of view because i’m dumb and edgy like that. why do i like this character so much whyyyyyyyyyy

summary: you just have to make it through the week, because come sunday you have the whole day off to spend relaxing with your boyfriend. at least, that’s what you have planned. 

+      +       +

MONDAY.

You are incredibly smart. That goes without saying. I watch you read books, devour them from front to cover before other people would even decide to begin them. You’re willing to try new things because the first two times you came into Mooney’s you wandered for close to an hour. You came in not knowing what you wanted but left with anything you could possibly be interested in. 

That was two months ago. 

You’re a regular visitor now because we’re an item. Dating. In a relationship. I never know what to say, but neither do you since I’ve heard them all in descriptions of your friends. It doesn’t even matter, anyway, because you smile to your friends no matter what you call us. I never know if I’m doing this right Y/N, but with you I’m positive. You’re happier than I’ve ever seen you. 

You’re here at Mooney’s now, talking to me as we eat lunch together. We’re both sitting behind the counter on stools, the flow of people slow for now. It’s always like this around this time of day, and we’re both plenty familiar with that by now. Every so often some asshole comes in looking for a Tolstoy they can stare at for years or some autobiography they’ll only skim through, but besides that, it’s just us. 

“Okay, okay,” You’re laughing and waving your hand about the answer you just gave. We’ve been doing this a lot, asking each other pointless questions like this to simply know the answers. For you, plenty of these questions lead to these marvelous stories. It’s as if you want me to know everything about you so easily.  “Okay, you see a pothole in the road ahead, do you swerve or straddle?” 

I’m not sure about my answer, but that doesn’t matter anymore. I can tell what you want me to say. “Straddle,” My voice comes out a little above a whisper.

“Oh really?” You respond back in a voice that’s even quieter, biting your lip without even realizing it. “Me too. Crazy.”

“Crazy,” I repeat, and my mouth is already pulling into a smile. You lean forward and kiss me once -- eagerly -- then pull back to look at me before we kiss again, slower this time. I want you here, and I know you want me too, but we also have some normal human decency and know when the bell rings to stop kissing quickly. The man who wandered in didn’t seem to notice the two of us at first, too absorbed in his fucking phone. 

“Hello!” He speaks up when he notices us. “Can you point me to where Marcus Zuzak would be?” 

You smile. “Over there, under fiction. Near the end, because it’s by last name.” You lean over the counter ever so slightly to point him in the correct direction. He’s lucky you volunteered to help him because I doubt I would have been so polite. 

“Oh, of course. Thank you, dear.” The elderly man nods and moves in the direction of your pointed finger. You smile at him for a moment longer before you turn back around, grinning. 

“Wow, I might just take your job.” You joke, moving back up to sit on your stool. I had secretly hoped you would return to kissing me, but I knew deep down that wasn’t a likely possibility. 

“Yeah, do you want the apron?” I pull at the apron. “You can have the apron.” 

“Yeah, apron and nametag. I’m changing my name to Joe now.” You continued, before softly laughing and transitioning the conversation into silence. You look at me again, but it’s a much different look than last time. It’s not the heavily passionate look that I got over questions and sandwiches, this is a much more caring look. A loving look. “Hey, it’s been a while since we had a date night.” 

I want to return the look you give me, and I hope I am. I hope you understand I love you as much as you love me, Y/N. “Yeah, you’re right. Hey, we should plan one.”

“Okay,” You nodded once, slowly as you plunged through your invisible mental calendar. “Are you free Sunday?”

For you, Y/N, I’m free any day. “Yeah, I think Sunday should work out. Seven?” 

You nod once more, kicking your legs. “Okay, seven on Sunday it is.” 

I want to reply, but the man returns with a book that is certainly not Zuzak, but I’m not one to say anything. 

“Ready to check out?” I ask him, but you hop up before I can move forward.

“Here, I can help you. My name is Joe,” You joke, and the poor old man nods his head. “Looks like a good book.” 

TUESDAY.

I’m not supposed to be at your apartment, which I suppose is part of the reason my heart rate spikes when the doorbell rings. I have been trying to get away from this, from the pointless apartment lurking, but I couldn’t resist today. I missed you, Y/N. 

For a second, I think the doorbell might be you come to pick up something you’ve forgotten, but then I realize you wouldn’t be ringing the doorbell. It buzzes again and is now followed by a series of pounding knocks. “Hey, Y/N, are you in there?” A man’s voice comes through into the apartment. “C’mon, it’s Arthur. Let me in.” 

Arthur.

He sounds vaguely desperate, his voice tinged with a whine. How could you ever have loved this man, Y/N? He’s like some distressed puppy dog who found his way home after being left on the side of the road. He says some word pleas, but I’m already turning over possible ways this could go down in my head. 

“Listen, I know that you probably hate me,” Arthur speaks again. You’re right; I’m sure you do. “But I just want to talk to you. I need to apologize. I’m sorry.” He sounds genuine. 

I open the door, and Arthur looks stunned. “Shit, is this the wrong apartment? Sorry, I’m looking for Y-”

“Y/N. I know.” I put on a fake smile. This is polite Joe, boyfriend Joe. This is the Joe that you know, Y/N. “She’s not home right now, actually.”

“Oh,” Arthur’s face turns red. 

“I’m Joe,” I stick out my hand. “Y/N’s boyfriend.” I almost smile at the words. 

He takes my hand and shakes it, although his mind is clearly elsewhere. “I’m Arthur. Bishop.” 

Jesus, Arthur Bishop? What kind of a name is Arthur Bishop? “I heard.” I’m still smiling, although it’s uncomfortable now. He’s ignoring me, and I know his thoughts are on you. “Did you need me to pass along a message?” I push, trying to get answers. I need to know if Arthur is a threat to you, Y/N, a threat to us. 

“Yeah, um, I haven’t seen Y/N in two years, actually. But we used to date-” I could see him remember who he was talking to. “It was a long time ago.” He added. 

“Yeah, I think she’s mentioned you.” I lied. Do you wanna come in?” 

When Arthur says yes, I really begin to doubt what you see in him. Is he stupid? Arthur has no idea who I really am, no proof that I’m your boyfriend or that I can be trusted. If he had been at least a little doubtful, I would have at least respected that. I almost feel bad for him, Y/N. 

An ex-boyfriend. Here we are, two of the people who you have loved in your apartment without your knowledge. He makes himself at home very quickly; without even taking off his shoes. He’s jittery, unfocused. His legs bounce up and down as he sits on your couch, and I’m suddenly self-conscious for you, Y/N, because of all the clothes you had strewn around. I walk towards the kitchen and kick a bra under the couch. 

“So, what did you say the deal was between you and Y/N?” I ask, moving towards the counter.

Arthur hesitates for a moment. Never a good sign. “Is there a bathroom I could use?”

No, dipshit, no bathrooms here. “Yeah, just down the hall. You okay?” 

He nods, clearly lying. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be right back.” He moves quickly, but once I hear the bathroom door close I move twice as fast. The bathroom, Arthur? Do you think I’m dumb? On second thought, are you dumb? 

I know where your medicine cabinet is, and I know where the prescription sleeping pills you keep are. My fingers grasp the small bottle and I shake a few out onto my palm -- not so many that you’ll notice they’re gone, but enough to take care of Arthur in the other room. 

I move silently back to the kitchen, pulling one of your knives from the display. At least your counter is clean enough that I can put the pills down directly and crush them with the knife. One, two, three presses and I’ve deemed them powdered enough to brush into my hand and shake into a glass of water. 

I hope you’re thirsty, Arthur. 

WEDNESDAY.

The cage is no longer empty, which is always a strange feeling. And Arthur is so quiet I practically forget he’s down there. 

I wonder a little if I overreacted with Arthur. If I should have just stayed put and pretended no one was home or let him come in and leave on his own time. But deep down, Y/N, I knew that he was a risk. I didn’t even have to know what this guy wanted and I could tell, from the way he spoke about you that he wanted to get in the way of us. And God, we’ve been so perfect together that I couldn’t fathom letting someone take you away from me. 

He was out for a while, and I worried I maybe overcompensated with the sleeping pills and his insides were slowly shutting down. If I had known your shifty ex-boyfriend was going to show up I would have maybe done my research a little better, but things like this never seem to want to pencil in a date on the calendar.

The second time I check on him during the workday, he’s awake. Quiet and confused, but awake. He asks the usual -- where he was, why he was there, if you had something to do with it. And I’m at least polite, Y/N. I answer his questions to the best of my ability and all he does is swear and yell at me. After a while, I think he realized that I wouldn’t be telling him this stuff with the intent of letting him go, which quieted him down. Which is not to say I don’t want to let him out.

“Listen, I didn’t do anything wrong. Please. Man, if you want me gone I’ll leave. I’ll leave to where ever the fuck you want me to go. Just let me out.” 

Even his pleading is in a soft voice. I wonder if he was a good boyfriend or the annoying, man bun and kale type you seem to have been interested in before.  “You just need to wait a while, Arthur. Have patience, it’s a good quality.” But even my sound reasoning doesn’t persuade him.

He’s quiet the next few times I come down, but he takes the fast-food bag I pass him and he eats, which is good at least. I considered asking him about you, but I decided that if he was comfortable and quiet now, it was probably better to keep it that way. Besides, you sent me a text asking if I wanted to come over and watch ‘Friends’ with you. It wasn’t the show I was excited for at all, but the idea of you, and the idea that you thought of me when you were flipping through the channels. 

I give Arthur his supper and then I’m off to you, Y/N. You open your door for me in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, and I swear you’ve never looked so beautiful. You smile at me and I come inside the apartment I know you cleaned especially for me and you direct me to the couch, where we settle down and you turn up the volume. 

“I hope you weren’t busy or anything,” You mention offhandedly during the third episode. “I don’t know, I just know you don’t watch a lot of TV but Friends is classic and I thought you might want to-”

“No, no, no, you’re good. I love it. I love Friends.” I lie, gesturing to the screen.

You look at me and I know you’ve read right through my little lie. “Do you know?”

I pause. “No. But I love it now!” 

“Sure, Joe,” You laugh before turning back to the screen and moving closer to me. We’re pressed together like we’ve known each other for years. And we may as well have, Y/N. 

THURSDAY.

I wake up Thursday morning, and you’re already gone. A glance at the clock -- which reads 9:51 -- explains to me that you’re already at work. A note you left me on the table reflects this thought, and I know that neither of us expected me to stay the night. I’m happy to be welcome here in the morning, and I pocket the note before sitting back to breathe it in. 

I love the way your apartment is decorated because it reminds me so much of you. It reflects your personality, from the way things are carefully placed to the way you so desperately want things to appear thrown into a particular spot. Even alone in your apartment, Y/N, you’re trying too hard. 

Last night was perfect, and I think my mind is clearer now. I know what I have known in the back of my mind for days, that Arthur needs to be taken care of. Nothing gruesome or excruciatingly painful, he’s been good enough. I almost hate to do it, but if he sticks around things are bound to go wrong for us. Please realize that I’m doing this all for us, Y/N. 

FRIDAY.

I have learned from my mistakes. I allow Arthur -- or what’s left of him now -- to wait for me overnight but come Friday I know the body needs to be taken care of. 

Ethan is too gullible and I tell him I need to close early to do some inspections of Mooney’s. At first, he asks some questions, but I tell him only simple answers and he eventually leaves. The day as a whole is normal but seems to drag on as the same type of men and women come in to buy the same books, or walk around and leave. The only half-hour that breezes by is our lunch together, where we sit in the same area as always and laugh and each and hope that time will freeze. 

I manage to slip into the conversation a small asking about ex-boyfriends, and you spill the beans on Marcus and Dwayne and Roosevelt, all of whom I know have long since moved on, before you bring up Arthur. 

“We dated for a year, I guess. But then he told me that he had some other life offers to pursue in Nepal -- whatever that means -- and we broke up and he left.” It doesn’t seem to mean lots to you, as you shrug and eat forkfuls of salad. “Then I met this really nice guy at a little coffee shop in New York and his name was Joe, and he worked at a bookstore, and we ate lunch together and have a date on Sunday.”

“Wow, Joe sounds like a great guy. Looks like I’ve got competition.” 

You laughed, the beautiful laugh that I know you try to keep in your mouth but it just bubbles out, and you lean over and bring your hand up to hide it. I have never understood why Y/N. Your laugh is beautiful, but it’s impossible to bring that up without sounding creepy.

But you leave eventually, sooner than you should have to, and I’m left alone again. It returns to the same boring routine, and the closing time comes after a hundred years. Ethan leaves with a wave and a farewell, but I’m already right behind him as I moved to flip the open sign. 

The basement has begun to reek of death. It only gets stronger as I push open the doors to the cage, allowing the smell to come out as I enter in. Arthur has already texted a few of his friends -- douchebags, by the sounds of it -- to tell them that he’s returning to Nepal. He missed it, and he misses the feeling it brought him and his idiot friends seem to accept it. I plan to bag him up -- which is more than vile and I can’t count how many times I throw up or gag -- and bury him in the woods, where the trees are thick and the dead leaves from several years have built up and no one will look. 

The gloves are the smartest choice I’ve ever made. There are things getting on them that I can’t identify and don’t want to be identified. He’s already in the bag -- deep and black, hopefully sturdy -- and I’m on the clean-up phase when I’m startled.  

“Joe?” I hear your voice. Fuck, tell me I’m going crazy. How the fuck do I hear your voice through all of this, unless…

I spin around to face you. It hits me almost instantly-- I didn’t lock the door. How the fuck could I forget to lock the door? Shit, one mistake and now… now this, Y/N. 

Unsurprisingly, you’re stunned. Eyes soaking in everything that they can, your hands already shaking. “Y/N,” I begin, but you don’t give me a chance to talk. A chance to explain myself to you.

“What the fuck, Joe?” You ask, and I know you’re hoping for some logical explanation to pour out of my mouth. And, Y/N, believe me when I say that I wish I had one, at the very least in the form of a crafted lie. “What the actual fuck is this?”

You want to run, but you also want this to all be a misunderstanding, so you stand there, frozen. I look at you, hoping that you’ll look into my eyes and remember how much we love each other, how perfect we are for each other. I hope you’ll forgive me and you’ll throw your arms around me instead, and you’ll know it was all a misunderstanding. You’ll love me no matter what, and we’ll get the happily ever after that you read in your books and crave so much. 

I see you look once more from me to the bag containing Arthur. Your breathing quickens again, the only thing to split the silence at first. Then your footsteps follow, tennis shoes hitting the concrete. 

Life is far from a book, Y/N. I’m sorry this is the point you have to realize this. 

SATURDAY

You wake up in the cage, and I’m already sorry that it has to be this way. You look like a small child, lost in the supermarket with no parents in sight. Sleep is in your eyes, but you quickly blink it out and lookup. For a split second, I think you have forgotten about where you are, about what has happened. 

You tried to run upstairs, to tell the world, Y/N, and I care about you too much to let that happen. You won’t understand this right away, no one ever does, but maybe you’ll have a change of heart someday. You refused to talk to me at first, so I talked to you and tried to act as if everything was normal.

“What the fuck,” When you spoke, your voice was rough from dehydration. I made a mental note to get you a coffee that you might drink, unlike the water glass you had disregarded in the corner. “What, you’re just going to pretend like I’m not in an actual cage, Joe?”

“It’s just temporary,” I assure you hurridly, but I can tell that you don’t believe me. “I’ve never lied to you, Y/N. Please.” And this is mostly true. 

Your voice is getting a little louder,  a little more passionate. “How am I supposed to know that? Huh?”

“Trust me,” I say, and I see an echo of Beck in myself. The thought startles me enough that I shake a little, and you think that I’m shaking because you’ve made some mental breakthrough. You were smart and kept out of my past, you trusted what I told you and never questioned the things I left out. 

 “How?” You ask me, bitterly. “How can I trust you in here?”

I look at you for a moment, our eyes locked. You look sad, Y/N, and I need to remind myself that it isn’t my fault. You could look for the best in this, you could choose to be happy despite what you see to be a bad situation. “You have to,” I beg simply, and I need to go back to the bookstore. I will be back down here, Y/N, I promise. 

SUNDAY.

The door opened with a soft noise, and your eyes follow me as I walked forward, watching you as well. I have nothing to say, but I can tell you’re waiting for me to speak. “It’s Sunday,” So I speak for you, glancing around to try and find the key. “We were supposed to have our date tonight,” I find the key and twist it around my fingers. 

“We still can,” Your voice comes out cracked from crying. “Let me out, please, Joe. C’mon. Please.”

I pocket the key and give you a look. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Why, Joe? Because you think I’m going to tattle on you? I’m not fucking stupid.” You stand up and move a little closer to the edge of the cage. “You made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes, it’s okay. I forgive you, Joe.”

You forgive me. My hands are trembling and I take a step forward. You forgive me, or so you say. 

“How can I trust you?” My voice is a whisper, and suddenly I’m the scared boy in the supermarket again. “You already tried to run, Y/N. You need to trust me, this is what’s best for you.”

“What’s best for me?” Your eyes water. “What’s best for me? Do you think being locked in a cage is what’s best for me? 

I don’t react. 

“Jesus, Joe, what do you want? What do you want me to do?” 

“I want you to be happy. I need you to be happy.” The words come out of my mouth before I even realize it. “But I need you to be happy in here, at least for a while. If you really still love me, you’ll wait.” 

“I don’t want to wait, Joe. Please. If you love me, you’ll let me out.” 

My hand reaches back for the key, and I’m fumbling with it as I say, “You know I can’t do that.” You seem to have given up with that, but you continue to stand against the edge of the cage and watch me. “Can you sit down? I have to empty out the bucket.” You glance back at the bucket you’ve been using as a bathroom and then back at me. 

You sit down, defeated, and I walk in towards the bucket. This is the most humiliating part of this whole ordeal, Y/N, and I’ll be happy when it’s all over and we can joke about the things I’d do for you. You’re watching me with big eyes that I can hardly look at up close because they’re swollen with tears by now. 

I’m near you, and you’ve gone silent. You watch as I reach down to grab the bucket’s handle, but you very swiftly stick your foot out, and I felt myself falling backward in slow motion. Fuck, Y/N, you weren’t supposed to do that. By the time I can turn myself over to look at you, you’re already up on your feet. Without pausing to look back, you’re making a run for the door 

Now, this is just fucking unfair. I push myself to my feet and stumble after you, and I feel like a toddler who doesn’t know how to walk. I push myself out of the cage for physical support and grab a knife from the shelves. I hope I don’t need this, Y/N, but your persistence worries me. 

It doesn’t take much to overpower you. I’m pumping my legs and feeling the adrenaline pumping through my body. I reach once and miss, almost stumbling but I doubt you notice. The second time I reach, my fingers grasp your arm and pull you back. I have to think fast here, and I push you against the wall to stop you. 

You’re quiet, panting and terrified. If you could, I’m sure you would spit in my face here. I turn over possibilities in my mind, and I must say that I’m not particular to any of them within my control. Shit, Y/N, I didn’t want this to turn out like Candace or like Beck. I thought you were different, I thought that maybe you would understand. 

I don’t want to kill you. Believe me, Y/N, it’s always the last thing I want to do. But I had to kill Beck before, and that turned out fine because I met you. I met you, and you made my life that much better. 

Your eyes flick between mine, your breathing steadies. The knife suddenly feels so much heavier in my hand, but we both know what I need to do. 

I’m sorry, Y/N, but I’ll make it quick. 

[veky1993]

Caught - Chapter 7 - Major Crimes Fanfic

And so the ogling series continues. :) You can read it below, or on AO3, or on ffnet. 

Have fun!

He watched, mesmerized and entirely at her mercy, as she straddled him, nothing if not determination in her movement as she flung her hair back over her shoulder in the process. She splayed one hand across the middle of his chest, then wrapped her other around him. She slowly adjusted her position atop him, deliberately dragged herself over him, getting them both ready, and all he could do was swallow hard, his heart pounding in agonizing anticipation.

She offered him a near wicked smile, then finally, finally, sank down on him, and he groaned. She let out a guttural moan in turn, then threw her head back in absolute pleasure.

He tried bucking into her, but she held him in place, her legs tightening around his hips as she simply remained still, intent on savoring the moment, even at his expense. But he could not take it. He palmed her still covered breast, kneading the flesh hard, and roughly grabbed her hip with his other hand. Sure enough her attention was drawn back to him, for she lifted her head and finally acknowledged him. She wiggled, engulfing the remaining inch of him safely within her walls, coaxing out another moan out of him, and then slumped down, her forehead ungracefully meeting his sternum. She moved on top of him, a sweet mewling sound leaving her, then mumbled into his skin, “Finally.”

His unexpected bark of laughter had her pause and look up at him, but when he only maintained his grin, not disagreeing with her statement, she planted a kiss on his lips and after only once clenching around him, as if in warning, started riding him. She set a relentless pace he only managed to interrupt by flipping them over to take over with equal abandon.

The next coherent utterance came from him, when once spent, sated and fighting for proper breath, he repeated into her shoulder, “Finally.”

She let out a light, airy laugh, and unable to resist the call of her flushed skin, he gently sank his teeth into the sensitive tendons of her shoulder, marveling at the way her laugh morphed into a moan when his tongue followed.

The feel of him becoming too much for her overheated body to handle, she reached for his face. Once at eye level, she gave him a wide, happy smile. Her tone was low, still filled with arousal as she told him, “You have no idea how desperately I needed this.”

He smirked at her in a way that said he had more than a vague idea, and kissed her before letting his gaze go over her, thoroughly appreciative. A thin sheen of sweat covered her forehead and her hair clung to the damp skin there, but she still looked absolutely stunning. She was trying to catch her breath and her heaving chest easily got his attention next. “Desperate looks hot on you,” he told her before kissing her breast.

“Oh, God,” she practically growled out, her low tone a mix of arousal over the way he touched her and amusement over his cheesy line.

He grinned into her skin when he felt her hand at the back of his head, this time pleading with him not to stop. Instead of heeding her plea, he looked up, and tucking her back into the bra neither bothered to properly take off when this steamy encounter started, asked, “You think we could actually undress for round two?”

She laughed, then ran a hand down his undershirt clad chest. It had ridden up, or she may have at some point bunched it up enough to reach naked skin, but in their frenzy neither had bothered with completely ridding him of the garment. “I don’t know,” she replied, her hand now creeping under the material. “You think you’re up for round two?”

“Ouch,” he said, then unceremoniously rolled off of her to soothe his wounded ego.

She was quickly at his side though to soothe it herself, and even though she was laughing at him, he wrapped an arm around her to pull her close. She kissed his cheek as soon as she reached it, then placed a more lingering kiss to his lips. On a happy sigh she slowly eased out of it, and nestled her head on the inside of his shoulder, her hand slipping under his shirt again.

Content to simply be, they lapsed into comfortable silence, Andy relaxing completely under her warm weight and the random pattern her fingertips gently drew over his skin. Eventually, he tried again, his tone humorful but also ever so slightly begrudging, “Well, how about round two for you at least?”

A short bubbly giggle burst out of Sharon. “Oh, I’ve missed you,” she said happily, wrapping herself around him even more.

He laughed as well. “Me, too,” he agreed, kissing her hair. “What’s it been, a week since we actually saw each other?”

She nodded and half sighed, half hummed in the affirmative.

That wasn’t an understatement. They worked together. They lived together. They were married to one another for crying out loud, and yet, they had barely seen each other that week. Not really anyway, not unless it was work related or just a brief few minutes prior to and after taking a quick break before heading out to work again.

Earlier that day though, as they were shuffling around the kitchen for a quick cup of coffee and a bite to eat, they had managed to steal a single, blissfully passionate moment that led to a breathless Sharon being trapped between Andy and a kitchen counter. Unfortunately, Andy’s phone unceremoniously interrupted, and turned their momentary bliss into instant frustration. Still, that stolen moment somehow also left them in much better spirits than they had been all week. They were relatively certain that the case would be wrapped up by the end of the day, so despite the rude interruption, they went to work optimistic, knowing they would soon pick up where they left off. When their case finally did close earlier that evening, Andy considered it a wondrous feat that round one hadn’t happened on the couch in Sharon’s office at the PAB.

Especially, since for once, it had been Sharon’s control and ever so present professionalism that had been slipping.

At the knock against her office door, she looked up from the stack of papers in her lap. She smiled a tired smile when she realized it was Andy, and he greeted her with a quiet, “Hey.”

“Hey,” she greeted back softly, turning around to peek into the murder room. Everyone was on their feet, collecting their things. “I see they’re done?”

“Yeah,” Andy said, waving the pile of folders he was holding at her, “I’ve been designated delivery boy for these.”

She chuckled, knowing he more likely volunteered. “You done, too?”

“I am,” he told her, finally stepping fully into her office, “was planning to wait up on you.”

She gave him a grateful smile, then looked back into the murder room, waving goodbye to the team as they slowly filed out. By the time the last one, Mike, left, throwing them a ‘Don’t stay too long,“ and 'See you Monday,’ Andy had taken a seat next to her on the couch.

”Is there an end in sight with those?“ he asked, indicating her own reports.

”Actually,“ she closed her folder, and proceeded to take the stack he’d brought, "once I look over these, I’m calling it a night as well.”

“Great,” he said eagerly, then made himself comfortable on the couch. “I’m looking forward to our weekend off, so hurry up,” he added, fishing his phone out to, in no doubt, help pass the time while Sharon finished up.

She laughed, leaning back into the couch as well. “Yes, Sir,” she said sarcastically.

Instead of focusing on his phone though, for a while Andy kept looking over her shoulder. Not only that, but he kept pointing out typos in his colleagues’ reports, complaining about missed commas, or even forgotten full stops. While she appreciated his effort to make this tedious task somewhat more interesting, and she found it amusing enough, she was unable to contain her eye roll, when he pointed a finger at a line on the page and asked, “Is that a double space I see there?”

She shot him a look, then shoved him into the opposite corner of the couch with instructions to hush until she was done.

Unfortunately, when he heeded her request, she instantly missed his proximity. If he was distracting earlier, he was positively detrimental to her ability to do her job now. She found herself having to re-read sections of the reports several times before comprehending them, her thoughts wandering more and more with each passing minute. If she kept this up, she might just have to give up, do it all over again later, maybe even ask Andy for help.

They have spent countless evenings like these, him just sitting there, waiting for her to be done, and whether they were seated next to each other on this couch, or across from each other with her desk between them, rarely had she been this poorly focused on her paperwork.

She chanced a look his way, and smiled sympathetically, when she saw him resting his eyes, his phone still clutched in a hand, and his head relaxed against the backrest.

Work had been so demanding the past several weeks, and if she were perfectly honest with herself, she would very much like to simply join him. In fact, that was precisely the reason for her lack of concentration. It didn’t help that she was also starting to regret relegating him to the other end of the couch.

This distance between them, small as it was, made her suddenly acutely aware of just how long it had been since last they really connected, just the two of them, alone and intimately, without the constant buzz of life interrupting or pulling them to more urgent matters.

She never made a conscious decision to do so, but she shuffled back closer to him, if only fractionally, and took a long, quiet breath. That was a simultaneously bad and good idea. On the one hand, the familiar scent of him filled her nostrils and only distracted her further. On the other, it gave way to far more pleasant thoughts. Thoughts of their interrupted morning, for example, and far more importantly, of the promises made after.

On that optimistic note, after signing Provenza’s report, she finally paused, and looked at Andy again. He seemed oblivious to her inner musings, and in fact had gone back to playing with his phone. He looked rather adorable, too, with his brow furrowed in concentration as he seemed to try to solve whatever problem his game had presented to him.

She must have been staring too long, for eventually his brow relaxed and he looked at her in slight surprise. “What? You done already?”

“Oh,” she said, somewhat startled, and even slightly embarrassed over being caught, “sadly, no.” Scrambling to say something that would draw attention from her distracted state, she added, “I’m just jealous you’re already done with your paperwork.”

Andy chuckled. “Well, if you actually worked on those reports,” the 'instead of staring at me’ was loudly implied by a knowing cock of his head, “you could have been long done by now.”

If not for her decades long professional experience, Sharon would have openly gawked at his (more than warranted) accusation. Instead, she threw him a mean, narrow-eyed look, then turned back to the folders in her lap. “Well, then I better get back to it,” she told him with a healthy amount of sarcasm.

Andy laughed. “Sounds like a plan.” And with that he was back to staring at the screen of his phone.

Sharon hummed her agreement, but felt more than a little disappointed that he was quite so happy to let her get back to work. She was seriously starting to consider just leaving the rest till Monday, even though she knew that if she did, she was risking getting called out on a case and postponing it even longer. She closed Provenza’s file finally, and moved on to Tao’s, deciding to just get this over with and then allow Andy to take her home and distract her properly. Only it was that particular moment that Andy chose to shift on his spot and in doing so inadvertently moved closer to her. Now, she felt positively assaulted by his scent, and it forced her to take another deep, pleasurable breath and this one nearly had her groaning in delight.

Unable to help herself now that he was so much closer to her, she closed the remaining distance, briefly leaned her head against the side of his arm, and hummed in a mixture of both melancholy and contentment.

Andy seemed surprised, and paused mid-tapping. “You okay?”

She briefly pressed her temple into his arm again, then straightened altogether. “Yes, yes, just looking forward to finally going home.”

“Tell me about it,” he agreed on a sigh, and she almost moaned when he dropped a quick kiss to the side of her head, “I feel like we haven’t been home in a week.”

“_We _haven’t been home in a week,” she said and looked at him.

But he was already back to his phone again, and only agreed with her on a sarcastic chuckle, “I guess not.”

She continued to look at his oblivious self, the folders in her lap now completely forgotten. He showed barely any sign of his usual impatience after a long workweek, no excitement at the prospect of getting to spend some time together. He offered no loaded incentive to hurry her along, no inappropriate looks that would earn him her amused reprimand. Nothing to hint at all that he might be sharing her current sentiments.

_Sharon found herself growing increasingly perplexed. Andy was always impatient, eager to make up for lost time when circumstances cut short their quality time together. In fact, on more than one occasion, after a long case, he had been playfully persistent in his attempts to incite her to leave paperwork for later, or bring it home to work on, _after they had had some fun. Just as often, her resolve had come dangerously close to breaking and giving into his charm. Part of her had started to anticipate, look forward to those moments. She had come to think of them as their own private little foreplay until they came home, took off their police force personas and properly relaxed. What was more, she enjoyed bringing out that side of him, she loved being desired by him, even to the point of irresponsibility.

To find Andy entirely too disinterested with their game tonight made her feel oddly irritated.

Even more so, considering that they had been struggling with that line between professional and personal all day. She had, quite unconsciously, lingered with a touch here and there, be it to get his attention by running a hand down between his shoulder blades slightly more slowly than propriety allowed, or by holding onto his arm for no particular reason and longer than necessary. Nothing had indicated to her that their interactions were any different than usual_－__although in hindsight, he had been a tad more tactile than she was normally comfortable with, and she had not minded it one bit－_until she caught that part startled, part amazed and part aroused look on his face and she realized she was having an effect on him that had no place in their work environment. She had been quick to curb her inadvertent teasing then, and to Andy’s great disappointment, made sure to keep a safe, professional distance between them for the rest of the day. That unfortunate necessity had only increased her already unbearable frustration, and based on the couple of wounded looks he had sent her way after that, she had been certain that Andy was doing no better.

To see him like this now…

It was absolutely preposterous. Being so content to waste his time on his phone, after such a long week, such a long month, mere hours from finally getting some well-deserved rest, and after barely keeping themselves in check today? It was simply not possible. Not her Andy. Now positively irked, she closed Tao’s untouched report, clipped her pen to the folder, and turned fully toward her husband.

In the most commanding voice she could summon, she said, “Andy.”

“Huh?” he said, somewhat stupidly, needing a couple of extra seconds to pry his eyes away from the device in his hands.

That was it for her. When he looked at her, so clueless and yet so adorable at the same time, which had been a number of times that day, she couldn’t help herself. She grabbed his face, forcefully, and before he could even begin to process what was happening, caught his lips in a kiss.

Bless him though for not needing even a millisecond to respond. He made a surprised sound in the back of his throat, but immediately kissed her back. She barely registered the sound of his phone clattering to the floor, because then his hand was slipping into her hair, and she was too busy moaning in delight.

For a moment, her mind went completely blank. She didn’t care that they were at work. She didn’t care that even though the murder room was long empty, anyone could just walk in and see into her office through the open blinds. All that mattered was that finally Andy was almost as close to her as he could possibly get. The feel of his lips against hers was heavenly. The scent of him finally surrounded her completely and she couldn’t get enough of it.

God, has it really been weeks?

When she finally released him, not out of want, but rather out of need for air, she couldn’t let him go completely. Instead, she rested her forehead against his, and closed her eyes, content to stay like that till Monday for all she cared.

“You’re supposed to be working,” Andy finally mumbled, sarcastic and teasing, but she could tell he was just as dazed as she was, and she felt more than a little proud of herself for being the cause of it.

“I don’t care,” she shot back petulantly, causing him to laugh. “I’ve missed you,” she added, pecking his lips once more before pulling back completely.

He gave her a lopsided smile, and she very nearly attacked him with another kiss because she found that smile irresistible and she was sure he very well knew that. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“I would never have guessed,” she said, making sure she sounded sufficiently accusatory.

“Well,” he shrugged, and the way he dragged the word out had her thinking that perhaps he had been playing that game of theirs all along, “I was gonna show you when we finally got home. Or escaped this goddamn building.” He made a show out of securing the report that had slipped between them back into her lap_. _“You just need to hurry up and finish these.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. He was being entirely too nonchalant about this whole thing.

When her stare lasted long enough, he asked, “What?”

He sounded much too innocent for her liking, and then it suddenly hit her. This was payback. For putting up her impenetrable wall of professionalism halfway through their day. For leaving him hanging just as it was getting interesting. Oh, he was good, she decided, impressed, and let him have this moment of revenge. Not only had he been playing their usual little game, he had managed to play her, and put her in _his shoes for a change. Her realizations must have played across her face for he suddenly grinned, smug about her catching on only now. She should be furious with him, or herself, but this was only further proof that she had finally met her match. She could only marvel at that instead.

So she playfully rolled her eyes, offering no further acknowledgment of his little victory, even as his grin knowingly widened, and said, “Let me wrap this up then.” She planned to seal her decision with another quick kiss, but this time it was Andy who couldn’t control himself and whose hands landed on her cheeks, keeping her close while he gave her a deep, languid kiss.

He was grinning again when he pulled back and she opened her eyes. “I like it when you can’t contain yourself,” he told her, clearly not beyond gloating a little. “Especially at work,” he added, his voice loaded with what only moments ago she had been so sorely missing.

She felt her cheeks warming, and other parts of her tingling with renewed desire. “Don’t get used to it, Lieutenant,” she said, having to force herself to return to her pile of paperwork before she succumbed to her impulses again.

“I won’t,” he told her, casually enough, “but,” he paused, deliberately sliding a hand up her thigh, as he leaned in close, “should you change your mind, you know I’m always game.” With that, he gave her thigh a squeeze that instantly made her squirm, then abruptly pulled back.

“Andy,” she scolded, but sounded entirely too aroused for it to have the desired effect.

“Commander,” he mocked, unconcerned as he located his phone and checked if it was still in one piece.

She shot him a look, but said, “Give me 15 minutes.” It took effort not to just drop everything and take him home. “If I’m not done by then,” she elaborated, gracing him with a look that matched some of his best smirks, “feel free to go home and start without me.”

“Oh,” he started ominously, even as his eyes returned to his phone screen, “if you’re not done in 15 minutes, I’m starting alright.” He shot her a look that would have set a lesser woman on fire, and added, “And not at home either.”

She snort-laughed, and kept her eyes on him for a long moment as she contemplated just how much she adored this man and his sense of humor, but then she was startled into blushing, when without so much as sparing her a glance, in forced annoyance, he growled, “Eyes on the reports, Commander!”

Getting home after that had felt like an eternity for both of them. Their car ride home must have been the most tension filled in recorded history, and once they stumbled through the front door, it was no wonder they had barely gotten undressed or even made it to their bed.

“We should retire,” Sharon suddenly suggested.

“What?” he asked on a laugh. “You getting too old for all nighters and non-stop cases?”

She tickled his side in reprimand, making him squirm. “No,” she said at length. “But I would like to enjoy more of your company while I’m young enough to make the most of it.” As if to underline her point, she dragged her fingernails teasingly across his chest.

Even as he groaned, he was suddenly quick to agree. “Wanna put in our papers now, or tomorrow?”

She laughed, then slowly sat up, throwing her hair over her shoulder as she reached behind her back. Unclasping her bra, she said, “First things first.”