#based on nothing but that one second shot of him drinking milk i decided that fili loves dairy

[pilkypills]

[thebookreader12345]

Crossing Lines

Pairing: Jay Halstead x reader

Summary: Y/N is kidnapped, and when Jay tries to do everything he can to get her back, he discovers that he may be going too far

Requested: Yes, by @dreamingmanip

Warnings: slight swearing, mentions of a beating, blood, and kidnapping

Word Count: 1,824 Words

I stirred in bed as the sun hit my face and rolled over to bury my face in my boyfriend’s side, only to realize that his side of the bed was empty. I glanced over at the clock, and upon seeing how early it was, I groaned and dropped my head back down onto my pillow. That’s when Jay appeared at the entrance to the bedroom and leaned against the doorframe.

“Hey,” I mutter. “What are you doing up this early?”

“Hailey and I have a boatload of paperwork to catch up on, so we figured we’d finish it before shift starts,” Jay answered. “Go back to bed. You don’t need to be up for another hour or two.”

“Okay,” I murmur sleepily and snuggle deeper into the blanket that was covering my whole body. “See you later.” Jay then appeared at my side and leaned down to place a kiss on my cheek. I smiled softly at the gesture, loving how sweet and amazing my boyfriend was.

“See you at work,” Jay said before leaving the room. About an hour and a half later, it was time for me to get up, and even though I didn’t want to leave the bed, I had to go to work. It didn’t take me long to get ready, but then again, it never did, and once I was all set, I threw on a jacket, grabbed my car keys, and left the apartment. Because I had a bit of time left before I had to get to work, I decided to go and get some coffee. It wasn’t unusual for me to go out and get coffee in the morning. The coffee back at the district wasn’t that good, and sometimes, I had a taste for something different. Therefore, I went to the cafe a few blocks from my apartment. At first, everything was normal. I walked inside the coffee shop, ordered my drink, waited for said drink, and walked out. However, this is where things went wrong. As I passed by an alleyway to get to my car, a man reached out and grabbed me, pulling me towards his body. On instinct, I fought back and tried to reach for my gun, only to realize that I left it in the front compartment of my car. No matter how much I struggled in the arms of my captor, he overpowered me. I tried to throw a punch, but I missed, and in return, the man attacked back, landing a punch to my mouth that produced blood. And once I had a bag thrown over my head, and my hands were tied tightly behind my back, there wasn’t much that I could do. All I could think about when I was tossed into the trunk of a car was Jay, and I just hoped that him and unit would find me before something bad happened.

Jay’s POV

My stomach sunk even deeper as Y/N didn’t answer her phone for the 5th time. She was supposed to be at work half an hour ago but never showed up, and now I was worried. I sighed and put my phone in my back pocket before walking back into the bullpen where everyone was sitting doing work.

“Any word from L/N yet?” Voight questioned. Everyone in the bullpen glanced up at Voight’s question and looked towards me for an answer.

I shook my head. “She still isn’t answering my calls, and she hasn’t responded to any of my texts. Voight, I’m getting worried. Really worried.”

“All right, everyone stop what you’re doing,” Voight ordered. “Right now, Y/N is our number one priority. I want the case we’re working on passed over to the Gang Unit, and I want everyone focused on finding Y/N. Got it?” Everyone in the bullpen nodded. “Okay, Jay, tell us everything you know.”

“I saw Y/N this morning before I came into work. I told her to go back to bed, and that I’d see her here. Then I left the apartment, and I haven’t seen her since,” I explain.

“Can we check her car’s GPS?” Kevin questioned.

Adam shook his head. “Y/N’s GPS was damaged in that car accident last week, and she hasn’t had it fixed yet. What if we split up and go to places she could be?”

“That’s not a bad plan. You guys figure that out, and I’m going to talk to Trudy to see if we can get some more bodies on the street,” Voight declared and headed down the stairs.

“Kev, Adam, and I could check her apartment,” Kim suggested.

“Okay,” I breathe out and take my keys out of my pocket. I took the house key off of the chain and handed it to them before turning to Hailey.

“You and I can check out the coffee shop she likes a few blocks from her apartment. Maybe a barista saw her this morning and can give us more info,” I say. 

Hailey nodded. “Sounds like a plan. Lets do it.” Hailey and I climbed into my truck and left the district, heading towards the cafe Y/N visited often. Upon pulling into a parking spot, my eyes caught something on the other side of the street.

“Look,” I tell Hailey and nod to what I was staring at. “That’s Y/N’s car.”

“Lets go inside,” Hailey proposed and hopped out of the passenger seat of my truck. Inside of the building, we showed the barista our badges and asked her if she could answer a few questions about this morning, to which she agreed. I pulled out my phone and selected a picture of Y/N, showing it to the barista.

“Have you seen her today?” I ask.

The barista thought for a moment, but then nodded. “Yeah. She came in earlier today. Her order was a black coffee with two shots of milk and three sugars.” I smiled softly at the mention of my girlfriend’s coffee order. She always got the same thing.

“Was she with anyone?” Hailey quizzed.

“Uh, no. She came in, got her coffee, and then left,” the woman answered.

“Great. Thank you,” I exclaim and lead Hailey out of the coffee shop. “Well, that was a dead end.”

“Uh, Jay,” Hailey spoke and tapped on my shoulder. I turned around to face my partner, and when I saw that she was looking at something, I followed her gaze. That’s when I spotted a coffee cup lying on the floor, it’s lid inches away, with the light colored coffee spilled around it. I didn’t need to see the name of the cup to know that it belonged to my girlfriend. I stepped closer to where the coffee was spilled and scanned the surrounding area, hoping to pick up some other clues, and thankfully, I did, but they weren’t the kind I was hoping for. In the alley where the abandoned cup was laying, there were a few blood splatters on the concrete, and feet away from that was a jacket. And I recognized the jacket instantly because it was my own. But most importantly, it was the jacket that Y/N loved to where from time to time. Hailey appeared at my side, and based on her expression, I’m assuming she had come to the same conclusion as me. My girlfriend had been kidnapped. “I’m going to call the rest of the team,” Hailey mumbled and pulled out her phone.

...................................................

The investigation was going well, but we were at a dead end. We found a security camera that was pointed at the alleyway where the abduction took place, and while it pained me seeing my girlfriend get beaten and shoved into the trunk of the car, we had the guy that took her. The problem was, he wasn’t talking.

“Why don’t we lie to him and offer him a deal?” I suggest.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jay,” Hailey stated.

“Okay, then lets put him in the cage,” I offer. “Give me a minute alone with the guy. I can make him talk.” No one said anything, and that was making me angry. Really angry. “Guys, he kidnapped Y/N! He beat her, and then shoved her into a trunk. So why is no one agreeing with me here?”

“Because you’re taking things a bit too far,” Voight commented.

I scoffed. “I’m taking things too far? That’s rich coming from you.”

“I’ve done some bad things, Jay. Things that I regret,” Voight admitted. “You don’t want to follow in my footsteps. And right now, what you’re suggesting... Jay, you’re crossing lines that you do not want to cross.”

I sighed and slumped down into my desk chair, defeated. “Then what the hell do we do?”

“I don’t know,” Voight confessed. “But we’re going to figure it out.”

Y/N’s POV

I winced in pain for the one hundredth time as I moved my jaw. There was most likely a bruise there, and a pretty decent sized one at that. I had been sitting in this house for who knows how long, a day at the most, just waiting, hoping, that the team would come and find me. And it looked like my wish was granted, because minutes later, someone bust the front door down, and I heard Jay calling out my name.

“I’m in here!” I shout as much as I was able, seeing as my jaw throbbed whenever it was jostled, which happened a lot when I talked. In seconds, I was being untied from the chair I was sitting in, and I was being engulfed in a hug by my boyfriend. He squeezed me softly, placing a kiss on the top of my head as I buried my face into his chest to inhale his familiar smell.

“Are you okay?” Jay asked and examined my figure, scowling when he saw the mark on my chin.

“I’m fine,” I assure him. “Just a few bruises. Nothing I can’t handle. What the hell happened?”

“We can talk about that later. Right now, I’m going to take you to Med, get you checked out, and then we are going to go home and get some much needed rest,” Jay explained. “You don’t know how worried I was about you. The lengths I was willing to go to get you back...”

“Hey,” I say and cup his cheeks with my hands. “You are the most morally just cop I know. So whatever you had to do, I’m sure it was justified. Now, if that whole rest thing is still on the table, I would like to take it.”

Jay smiled softly. “The offer is definitely still on the table. Come on. I’ll drive you to Med, and then we can pick up your car and head back to my place. Pizza and beers are on me.”

“I have the best boyfriend ever,” I note. “Now, lets get going. The longer we stand here, the hungrier I get.”

________________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13 @dreamingmanip @campingmonkey @winterberryfox @nevertoofarfromivar @anotherfan07 @giagma @mrspeacem1nusone @i-like-sparkly-things

[olderthanthemorning]

champagne (peter parker)

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: was the bottle of champagne a going away present or a plead to stay?

wc: 1.4k

warnings: alcohol (no drinking but like intention to drink?), one curse word

a/n: hey y'all ! this is based on the song "champagne" from in the heights. i really love the song, it's so beautiful and climactic but also really sad so i tried to turn it into something! as always, please send me stuff like feedback and requests!

your best friend. he was your best friend and now he was going to go work at stark industries, just like you guys always talked about. you were so proud of peter for getting that internship with tony stark, and you knew how excited he was for it, so why did your heart sink whenever you thought about it? childhood best friends did separate things all the time, what was one summer of peter in another city? it's not like it was one of the last summers you guys had together before real life took over. it's not like you had been waiting all year to spend this summer together and had made a list of things to do. it wasn't like that at all. except it was. but regardless of how it was, you had to be the person that supported him, because you knew he would've done the same to you. so there you stood, outside his place with a bottle of cheap champagne you had gotten your cousin to buy for you. you practiced your most genuine small once more and knocked, hearing shuffling inside.

the door swung open to reveal peter, with disheveled hair and a t-shirt that was just a little bit too small. he smiled at you. "is that the science fair t-shirt from freshman year?" he looked down at the ratty shirt, like he forgot he was wearing something that fit him like a tight crop top. "oh yeah..." he chuckled, "you know when you're packing and you can't decide if you should bring something so you try it on to see if you could picture yourself wearing it? i guess i got carried away." you walked past him into his apartment, looking around at your second home. "while it makes your muscles look huge, i'm not sure that will follow an engineering internship's dress code," you turn back to him so you can admire the smile he offered to your joke. you were careful to keep the bottle out of his line of vision, "I brought you something," you wiggled your eyebrows. "got any plans for the rest of the night?"

"just finishing my packing, i have an early morning tomorrow." he pulled his tiny shirt off and reached for another that was sitting on a box.

"come on, be done. it's your last night." you watched as he pulled the new, fitting, t-shirt over his head and down his torso.

"i know, but..."

"peter, please? you owe me one date before you go." he blushed and his eyes widened. peter had always been a bashful kid, you could remember an incident in elementary school when the woman serving them lunch had called him sugar, and he turned as pink as his strawberry milk.

"um yeah, yeah okay."

you revealed the bottle from behind your back, "to officially celebrate you. i thought it'd be very grown up of us. it's a little cheesy in hindsight i guess." you handed it to him.

"no," peter said a little too quickly, "thank you. i'm gonna open it."

"you're going to have so much fun this summer. it's just like we used to dream about, inventing things. and with tony stark? that's huge peter."

he chuckled nervously, "yeah, i'm lucky i was accepted. it will be good experience." he was focused on trying to get the foil off the neck of the bottle that was covered in condensation.

"lucky? don't pretend it was luck that got you that," peter's eyes shot to yours, "it's obvious why stark thought you were special." he looked down at the bottle again, moving slowly as to listen to what you might say next. "you're the smartest kid in our class, and the smartest person i know, which is saying something because i know myself." peter exhaled, and you got the feeling he had been holding that breath in for a few seconds.

"i just can't get this stupid thing open," his hands grabbed at the cork.

"here, let me help," you reached out your hand to take the bottle.

"no i got it, i can do it," his words came out harsh, but not in an angry way, in a desperate way. like he was trying to convince himself and not you.

"hey, it's okay," you placed your hands over his as they finally stilled.

"i'm just scared. what if i let someone down?" you realized how tired peter looked, and you suddenly felt bad for pestering him into plans. "what if i can't do my job well and i disappoint everyone?" you were slightly confused about why peter thought his unpaid internship was so high stakes, but when you saw how anxious you looked you pushed it aside. you pulled the champagne completely from his grasp and placed it on the table. then you returned to him and pulled a chair next to his, putting one arm around one of his shoulders and placing your chin on the other.

"that's not going to happen, peter. i know i said you're the smartest person i know, and you are. but more importantly, you're the most hardworking and passionate person i know. i've never seen you do anything half-assed." you both stayed silent for a few moments and listened to each other breathing, thinking about what to say next. "can i say something selfish?" you ask, your face still close to his, but not facing him.

"sure."

"don't go."

"what?" he turned towards you, prompting you to pull away from his shoulder and look at him.

"stay here. you could easily find an internship here, especially since you have iron man's recommendation."

"usually you have to work for someone before they write you a recommendation," he says, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"you know what i mean."

"no, i don't."

"i'm trying to say you don't need this crazy far away job yet. plenty of people don't get internships like that for another two years."

"you're working this summer too remember?" you can hear a slight change in tone in peter's voice. it went from ignorant confusion to growing frustration in his confusion.

"please, i'm working in manhattan. i'm living at home, you're moving away. it's our last summer together for god knows how long, and you're leaving." it was true. you also had an internship, but you knew that this wasn't about work, and you thought peter might know that too.

"i can't just quit now, mr. stark is counting on me. i told you." you started to wish you hadn't said anything. not only was peter leaving but now you're last conversation you two was going to be an argument.

"i know but–" he cut you off.

"you told me to take the opportunity, i don't know why you're mad at me!"

"i'm not mad, i just–" this time you stopped yourself. you weren't mad. you were hurt. you were disappointed, in yourself, both for not saying anything earlier, and for saying anything at all. you were sad. you were heartbroken. so you did what you thought might give you some closure. you felt your legs carry you straight in front of peter and you kissed him.

the world felt like it stopped. it wasn't like fireworks like the movies always said. because while it was a first kiss, it was a goodbye kiss. the moment your lips touched his, you knew it was just one more thing for him to take with him when he left. the kiss was practically perfect. peter's arms went around your waist in a gentle but reassuring way. it wasn't hungry or lustful, it was textbook girl-gets-the-guy and they kiss in the rain at the end of the movie. it's like he had been waiting for you to do this. and it was all for nothing. you pulled away, after a beat you opened your eyes and met his, which were searching for an answer. "i'm just too late," you said, you tried to offer a small smile but you felt a lump form in your throat. you turned and walked towards the door. before turning the handle of the knob, you took a deep breath and looked back at him, your best friend. "i'm really proud of you peter," you waited a second and continued, "and i love you." you had both said these words before but now you both knew they meant something different. you closed the door behind you and walked down the hall, thinking about how peter would be saving the world this summer while you would be picking up the pieces to yours.

a/n part 2: ok so honestly i wrote this with a happy ending originally but i hated it so much so i stuck with angst. sorry about it. anyway, happy summer y'all. see you when i see you.

[kekoma]

— kageyama as your boyfriend.

milk boy🥛is typing... hope you enjoy.

milk boy only knows how to do 2 things.

find good yogurt/milk and play volleyball.

relationships? he doesn’t know what that it is.

ahh just kidding~

anyways, dating tobio? 

it’s definitely possible but you gotta have patients.

promise his mind isn’t always focused on volleyball and becoming the best— OR about milk based products.

tobio here developed a crush on you just like any other normal boy and of course he somehow made his way into a relationship with you.

but he did go over if his emotions for you are true or if it’s one of those moments where he simply finds you attractive and you’re starting to take effect on him beforehand. (different meanings here. iykyk)

has spent countless nights with you running through his mind and days where he finds himself daydreaming about you along with the cute things he wants to do with you as well.

after countless days that turned into a few months (just 2), tobio finally found himself acknowledging that his crush for you is real and he actually wants a relationship with you.

now the confessing part could go two ways;

a) he’s bold enough to tell you straight up “i like you and i want you to be mine.” 

or.

b) there’s no second option... he knows what he wants and that’s YOU so why sugarcoat it.

jokes again~

b) he’ll come to you with a blush and confess his feelings with something along the lines like; “please go out with me. if you’re free this weekend then i would like to take you out.” (if you look at his ears, bet they’re redder than his cheeks)

bonus choice c) you confess first and he can’t help but become super flustered. most definitely accepted your confession in a heartbeat.

boom! new couple alert. (that we stan and love)

although... in the beginning, the relationship was quite odd.

nothing too extreme that you’re like “damn... sir i’m five seconds away from ascending from how awkward things are.” 

but just know it’s... weird.

he never attempted any kind of skinship or did much of anything that was consider couple like.

it’s not because he wasn’t interested or anything, he just had to go over the pros and cons of showing it with you since nothing was discussed about it.

tobio’s constant thoughts were; “would it be okay to just go for it...? what if i end up getting slapped or punched. but if i don’t go for it then would i be a bad boyfriend? what if she wants to already and i just haven’t picked up the signs...”

literally spent some days just analyzing you just in case he really did miss any hints you gave and when he’s unable to find any (if you haven’t made the first move already) the first few weeks, you two showed no true notions of dating.

although he did make up for the lack of skinship by bringing a second yogurt drink and giving it to you.

“here.”

“hm? what’s this?”

“a drink. i may have brought a second one.”

“on accident or on purpose~?”

“do you want it or not..? b-because i can easily drink it without your teasing.”

“i’ll take it. thank you for being so sweet~”

“whatever.”

proceeeds to give his cute little pout while looking away.

although after a while he brings it up and you two discuss what’s allowed and what’s not allowed.

even then, he’s still bizarre about it because he’ll randomly grab your hand and hold it strangely or say out of no where “please... hold my hand.”

could really go on and on about the awkward stage but you didn’t come here for that.

so let’s discuss the relationship currently. probably been dating for a few years now.

100% more stable with no miscommunications about anything.

all the doubt and worrying about what’s okay is no longer evident on him and he’s actually more relaxed in a way.

but do expect him to be honest with you straight up now and he would like if you do the same from as well.

since you two have been together for so long, it’s only right to be completely honest anyways, yeah?

anyways kags is extremely— let me say it again... EXTREMELY caring towards you.

it’s not noticeable off the rip since he’s still going to be a bit closed off and sometimes pretend he isn’t huge softie for you, but the way he shows that he cares is through subtle things.

like picking up what you like, dislike, what kind of people you tend to avoid and/or tolerate temporarily, funny habits you’ve developed when you were younger and etc.

occasionally he’ll go out of his way to buy you something if you mentioned it and gifts it to you one day. 

you don’t even have to say ‘i wish i could buy this’. tobio either saw the item from your screen one day or you just so happened to have asked his opinion about it (with no true intentions of buying it) and he’ll remember.

there’s never a dull moment where he isn’t being attentive you.

yet something to point out is that his true personality is there still.

it’s just more water down and only makes a true appearance when someone decides to flirt with you.

vv protective and a bit possessive too.

tobio won’t right away put whoever is hitting on you in their place if it looks like you’re confident enough to handle it on your own.

but it’s quite easy to tell when he’s a little irritated by someone trying their luck with you due to the atmosphere around him (so dark).

however, if it looks like you’re extremely uncomfortable and can’t handle the situation then he’s already making his way towards you.

he’ll wrap his arm around you before telling the person off. sometimes you gotta stop him because he won’t hesitate to make them cry.

besides that; another part of his personality that occasionally makes an appearance in the relationship would be his short-temp.

which brings us to the topic of arguments because of that temp ties in with it.

not gonna say they happen often since they don’t and he constantly works on that part of himself for you (and himself).

but when arguments do happen, then tobio will end walking away from you to chill off if he feels that things are getting pretty heated since he’s capable of saying something extremely hurtful.

honestly he can’t stay mad at you long so when he’s back to normal then best believe he’s coming back to you and saying sorry.

even if it’s not his fault, he’s still going to apologize.

might take you out to eat/buy you snacks in hopes you’ll forgive him faster.

really tries his best to not let fights occur and may even try talking them out if he’s able to.

moving along~ 

if you expected this man to be an grade A flirt... it’s not happening.

no matter how long you’ve two been together, he hasn’t gotten the flirting aspect down to a pack completely.

but does he still try? of course he does. will he ever stop? probably not even if it’s embarrassing.

the only thing you can do is just accept it and like it. A for effort.

bonus: he probably asks his teammates about advice on flirting... just don’t be surprised when he uses one of the pick up lines he learned from noya and tanaka. 

def the loyal type.

if girls finally decided to notice him and shot their shot at him then he’s quick to shut them down.

could literally offer this man all the money in the world just to stop being loyal to you and he would decline.

we stan and love loyal boyfriend tobio <3

because of you, he does better in school. although he hated the thought of studying, he actually starts to love it since you’re the one teaching him and if you incorporate rewards (like a kiss or milk candy) then he’s completely down to work harder.

plus kageyama loves it when you praise him for making high test scores.

also want to add that he’s also the kind of boyfriend who’s interested in anything you like.

since you’re apart of what he likes, volleyball (if you decide to ask him about teaching you about the spot or just showing up to his games), then he’s always down to show interest and support for the things you like.

quickly let’s get into nicknames. top ones for you are 🥁🥁🥁  dummy/my dummy, babe, my love/love and chipmunk (don’t question the last one.)

pda. pda. pda. 

everything is the same in both the public and private department. he’s down with holding hands, kissing you, cuddling and something he LOVES doing the most with you is headpats.

don’t know why but he loves doing that and he also during lunch (and at home), he loves when you two are alone so he can finally rest his head on your lap and take a short nap or just generally lay there.

could go on about public affection too but let’s briefly move to dates.

dates with tobio consist of you bike riding, going out to eat, walks in the park, picnics and just generally anything cute but also simple.

literally treats you like a goddess and as much as i would like to make a whole essay about dating him— i’ll cut it short here.

tobio = best boy & best boyfriend.

© all content belongs to kekoma 2020. do not repost, modify or translate.

[impala666]

The One With The Monkey Part Three: The Party

Friends Rewrite (masterlist) Last Part (Part Two)

Ummm the reader meets Janice officially for the first time, and Rachel gets attacked at the airport.

You were feeling great today! Joey was keeping to his word that everything was going to be a little bit slower like you wanted. You slept on the couch a couple times and it was lumpy and really kind of sucked, but you were in such a good head space. Your head space was so good that you decided to sign a contract to officially start school, and it wasn’t cosmetology like you had originally planned. Instead you were going to Esthetician school and you were going to help people feel good in their own skin while wearing it, and you couldn’t be more happy and proud of yourself. You couldn’t wait to call your mom and rub her face in it. Of course you had to pay it off so you were still going to work at the store, but that was just a detail to help you get where you want to go. “Hey, what’s got you so smiley?” Chandler asked when he looked up to greet you, but he couldn’t help wonder what was going on. He could never remember a time where you’d looked so happy. 

“Yeah, it almost looks like it’s about to hurt.” Phoebe smiled with her joke from her spot on the couch. 

“It does, but I just can’t stop smiling.” You beamed.

“Then tell us,” Joey begged, “we’re dying to know over here.” Joey stood up from his spot to put his hand on your lower back.

“I officially signed a contract to start school next year.” You smiled even brighter. You felt the air be squeezed out of you when Joey and Chandler wrapped you in a big hug. 

“Oh my god!” Joey celebrated.

“That’s amazing!” Chandler chimed in. 

“Oh, congratulations, Y/N/N,” Phoebe smiled proudly at you as she put a friendly hand on your arm. 

“Thanks, Pheebs,” you smiled at her as you adjusted your clothes after Chandler and Joey let go, and of course after Joey kissed you in congratulations. Just then you heard the door open and heard the sound of Ross and Monica’s voices, but they stopped when they saw everyone huddled around you.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Ross asked for himself and Monica, they both looked directly at you.

“I’m officially starting esthetics school next year.” Monica and Ross couldn’t help but smile themselves.

“Oh wow,” Ross said as he wrapped you in a quick hug which you happily reciprocated. 

“Yeah, I’m so happy for you, and you’re going to be working at the same time right?” Monica smiled her bright smile at you.

“Yep, I’m going to be pretty busy these next 7 months. But I swear it’s all going to be with it. I'll get to prove my mom wrong and help people and do something I love. But anyway, you guys were saying something when you both walked in.” You waved off your excitement to hear what Monica and Ross had been talking about when they first walked in. 

“Oh, yeah,” Ross continued as he took a seat in the arm chair and you and Monica sat next to each other on the couch with Phoebe. “What does the phrase ‘no-date pact’ mean to you?” 

“I’m sorry okay? It’s just that Chandler has somebody, Phoebe has somebody, and Joey and Y/N are together. I thought I’d ask Fun Bobby.” Monica explained since it seemed like she herself found a date. 

“Fun Bobby. Your ex-boyfriend Fun Bobby?” Chandler asked. Monica nodded.

“You know more than one Fun Bobby?” Joey couldn’t help but ask Chandler. 

“I happen to know a Fun Bob.” Chandler explained to his friend next to him, that you couldn’t tell whether it was a joke or not. You nodded your head in the direction behind Joey when you saw Rachel coming up with the drink that he must have ordered before you got there. 

“Okay, here we go,” Rachel announced while clearly trying to balance the almost overflowing liquid. 

“Oh, oh, oh, there’s no room for milk.” Joey complained with a whine. So Rachel did what she thought was the smartest idea in that situation, she took a sip out of Joey’s mug so that he had room for his milk. But it was a good thing that it was Joey instead of another regular customer, because Joey took it anyway. 

“There. Now there is,” she said smiling at her own quick thinking. 

“Okay, so on our no date evening five of you have dates.” Ross couldn’t believe what was happening. 

“Oh, six,” Rachel announced for everyone while she took a seat. Ross hid his face in his hands for a second to hide the anger that he wasn’t hiding very well. “Sorry. Paolo’s catching an earlier flight.” Rachel defended. 

“Plus, I mean, it is kind of hard to have a ‘no-date pact’ when two of us are already going out.” Joey mentioned that fact that you kept thinking about. Even though you felt bad about Ross not having a date, it wasn’t like you should have to stop acting like a couple. Which was what it felt like he was expecting, but you knew he was having a really hard time this year so you just decided to keep your thoughts to yourself. “Also I picked up this really hot chick at the mall. What's an elf to do?” Joey winked over at you, but you sent him a warm bright smile and he couldn’t help copy it, causing you to bite onto your lower lip. But of course he would try to make it into some kind of sexual thing with that elf costume; that he definitely gave back instead of keeping for the both of you. Ross had to shake off what had just happened between the two of you. 

“Okay, so I’m going the only one standing there alone when the ball drops?” He asked all of you. 

“Oh, come on. We’ll have a big party and no one will know who’s with who.” Rachel told him trying to make him feel better, but clearly didn’t help based on the way that he roughly adjusted in his seat.

“Okay, this is so not what I needed right now,” Ross whined. Looking like he was about to cry. 

“What’s that matter?” Monica seemingly becoming concerned about how upset her brother was. 

“Oh, it’s Marcel.” All of you made eye contact when the relationship problems with the monkey came up. “He keeps shutting me out, you know? He’s walking around all the time, dragging his hands.” As annoying as the monkey stories were getting, you still didn’t like how upset Ross got about it. 

“That is so weird, I had such a blast with him the other night.” Chandler let him know as you got up to get a cup of coffee and Chandler took your seat. “Yeah. We played, we watched TV. That juggling thing is amazing.” Chandler finished as you walked back over with your hot drink, and Joey guided you onto his lap as your place to sit. 

“What, uh...what juggling thing?” Ross asked completely clueless. 

“With the balled up socks. I figured you taught him that.” Chandler explained, but clearly Ross had no clue what he was talking about. 

“No.” Ross flat out said looking more hurt. 

“You know it wasn’t that big of a deal.” Chandler leaned forward as he brushed the whole conversation off. “It was just balled up socks and a melon.” Your eyebrows shot up at that weird detail. 

“Phoebe, hi,” one of the scientist men walked into the shop with such a big smile. So you couldn’t help but wonder what he wanted from your friend as she greeted him. When she tried to be polite and introduce everyone with her, he clearly had a message that couldn’t wait. 

“No. Have you seen David?” Max asked her. 

“No, he hasn’t been around.” Phoebe answered to him. 

“Well, if you see him, tell him to pack his bags. We are going to Minsk.” What the heck was in Minsk that was so exciting? Snow? You couldn’t help but wonder. 

“Minsk?” She repeated in utter shock. 

“Minsk. It’s in Russia.” David’s friend spelled out to her like he was teaching her something new. 

“I know where Minsk is.” Phoebe chuckled while you were sure she imagined ripping his head off for the unnecessary man-splaining. 

“We got the grant. Three years. All expenses paid.” He told all of you, so excited for this new career opportunity.

“So when, when do you leave?” Phoebe couldn’t help herself but ask. 

“January first.” He smiled proudly, but the look on Phoebe’s face said that her heart was broken.

**********

Last night you had decided to sleep with Joey in his bed, much to Chandler’s dismay, but he was a big boy he’d get over it. You didn’t want to open your eyes because then you’d have to leave the warm covers over your body. But when you remembered that today was New Years Eve, you opened your eyes. You had nothing to do all day except go to Monica and Rachel’s party, plus the store was closed so no work. When you pressed the covers to your bare chest and turned your head, you saw that Joey was still in his own dream land. You could tell he was dreaming because his eyelashes were flinching a little bit. “Joey,” you whispered. Reaching out your hand to grab one of his that was resting on his stomach, however that turned to be a mistake when he pulled on your arm and tugged you into his chest like you were a teddy bear. “Hmmm, okay five more minutes.” You smiled as you got yourself to fall asleep again in Joey’s warmth. But who knew that the both of you would end up sleeping in bed all day until the party. You were about to be a busy bee, and you wanted to soak up all of the Joey time that you could get.

***********

It was finally party time! You were dressed to the nines with your guy with you after spending all day in bed, and now you got to have some of Monica’s amazing food. You did not know how anything could top this. Joey and you were over by the fridge talking to a small group of people, while he was mingling you were doing everything in your power to hide from Janice. Because for whatever reason she seemed to be obsessed with your brother, and if she knew that Chandler had a sister the both of you would never hear the end of it from her. “You okay?” Joey leaned down to quickly whisper in your ear. You nodded.

“I want a drink and some food, but I don’t want to meet her. I don’t want to meet Janice. She’s loud, scared me, and she’s obsessed with my brother. Maybe I’ll just starve for the rest of the night.” You said out loud, but it honestly wasn’t sounding like too bad of an idea. 

“Ah, come on, just go get something.” Joey told you. Because you were just being ridiculous. You nodded, agreeing with him that you just had to do it, and whatever happened, happened. But when you excused yourself from the group you were talking to, Joey made sure to grab your arm lightly. “But if you need saving, just send a wink.”

“A wink?” You rose your eyebrow at him. 

“Yeah, our signal for me to come rescue you.” Joey couldn’t help but smile at how genius he was. 

“Good idea.” You smiled and nodded in agreement. So now that that was settled, Joey let you go and you made your way over to Rachel’s artichoke dip. 

“I love this artichoke thing. Don’t tell me what’s in it. The diet starts tomorrow.” You heard this Janice tell Monica as she sipped her champagne and leaned herself against Chandler. Right when you stopped next to Chandler you heard the laugh you had heard so much about; you were all for being nice and killing them with kindness. But that laugh just sounded like a dolphin was choking on something. 

“You remember Janice.” Chandler smiled like he was in pain as he reintroduced his ex-girlfriend to Monica.

“Oh...vividly.” Monica smiled at Janice. You couldn’t help but scoff as you took a bite of the artichoke dip, but unfortunately for you you were a little too loud.

“Oh, but I don’t think you’ve met.” Chandler turned to look at you and you could just see the evil in his eyes and his smirk growing. You immediately froze, you had no escape and couldn’t make eye contact with Joey. “Janice, this my baby sister, whom I love so dearly, Y/N. And Y/N this is Janice.” When Janice stepped forward you saw him silently laughing at you.

“Oh, you didn’t tell me you had a sister.” Janice exclaimed loudly. “It’s so great to meet you!” You were going for a handshake, but what you got was a hug. While you limply patted her back you looked over to Monica, begging her to save you. 

“Oh, hey, Y/N. I think I heard Joey calling for you. You should probably go.” Monica smiled at Chandler while he frowned when Monica helped you

“Oh, and you’re dating Joey, too!? You have all the luck.”She started laughing again. 

“Yeah sorry, I’ll just get back to him. It was-was nice meeting you Janice.” You smiled politely at her before you quickly walked back over to Joey, who immediately wrapped his arm around your waist. “She’s...nice.” You told him, not really knowing what else to say. Joey couldn’t help but just shake his head and smile at you.

“You are too nice.” He chuckled as he pecked you on the forehead. 

“Watch it, Tribbiani,” you tried to sound threatening as you hip bumped him slightly. You weren’t sure what was happening, but when you looked up, Rachel was back from the airport. She clearly didn’t have Paolo with her. Her hair was all messed up, her coat was all dirty, and she had a split lip. 

“Oh, my gosh!” Monica gasped in horror as she ran to Rachel by the door. “Rachel, honey are you okay?” Obviously she was not okay. “Where’s Paolo?” 

“Rome, “ she growled the answer as to where Paolo was. “Jerk missed his flight.” She finished explaining as she limped over to the chair that someone pulled out for her. 

“And then your face exploded?” Phoebe asked as she looked down at Rachel with concern. 

“No.” She told her as she officially. “Okay. I was at the airport getting into a cab, when this woman-this blonde planet with a pocketbook-starts yelling at me.” Rachel started her story. “Something about how it was her cab first and then the next thing I know, she just starts pulling me out by my hair. And so I’m blowing on my attack whistle thingy and then three more cabs show up. So as I’m going to get into a cab, she tackles me! I hit my head on the curb and I cut my lip on my whistle.” Rachel’s story made you want to go find that blonde planet and give her a peace of your mind, but clearly that’s not what Rachel wanted or needed when she stopped crying and realized that everyone was there and dressed for the party. “Oh...everybody having fun at the party?” We all slowly nodded our heads for her. “Are people eating my dip?” She leaned over to ask Monica but she was still loud enough for all of us to hear. So, Monica just slowly nodded at her.

[adorablele]

killer latte art; l.mh

❦ pairing; lee mark x reader ❦ genre; fluff, just pure cotton candy sweet fluff ❦ word count; 4.2k + (officially my longest fic yet) ❦ summary;  your friends swore to you that this ‘mark’ guy created some killer latte art; however, as you stare at the white blob in your cup, you can’t help but think they were blinded by the sparkle in his eyes. 

HAPPY MARK DAY!!! I hope that he’s eating and sleeping well. I hope that he’s staying hydrated and staying safe. I hope that he’s laughing a bunch and smiling until his cheeks hurt. 

❦ a/n; uhm, so in the process of making this, I fell in love with mark. please enjoy <3

“Alright, that’s pretty much everything.”

“But I haven’t learned how to make lattes yet?” you asked, a little unsure if Jeno, your co-worker, purposefully left out that detail.

He snapped his fingers, “You’re right! Thanks for reminding me.”

“No problem…” you trailed off. He most likely didn’t hear your response, having already focused his attention on someone behind you.

“Mark!” he called out.

The aforementioned barista was currently struggling to tie his apron around his back. He didn’t waste any more time on the task and quickly waved goodbye to a customer before promptly picking up the empty cup left behind. When he made his way over to the counter, he smiled at jeno, “Hey man!” he then turned to you, “and hello newbie.”

You smiled at the bright boy, the curves of his mouth somehow very contagious. Lamely, you waved in return.

“My name is Mark, you can Mark me in your heart,” he greeted. 

In return, he was met with silence. 

You were standing there with a small smile, trying not to dwell on the fact that you were too tongue tied to utter the word ‘hi’ and chose to wave instead. His greeting, albeit quite cheesy, somehow did implant its way into your heart and you refused to open your mouth in case you were to mutter incoherent remarks. With that in mind, you decided to soak in the features of the beaming barista in front of you; simply for observation and not because you thought he was cute, of course. The dazzle of his smile was loud, glimmering like the sun’s reflection on a lake. Your eyes followed the contour of his face, trailing past the apples of his cheeks and to the starry night sky- wait, correction, to his eyes. 

Mark started to awkwardly laugh, “Wow, I- I can’t believe I just said that.”

Jeno cleared his throat, “He makes some killer latte art, so he’ll be the one to teach you.”

It then clicked in your head.

“So you’re the guy that everyone raves about!” you exclaimed.

Mark raises his eyebrows, eyes darting from you to jeno then back to you. He points at himself, “M- me?”

“No, the cup next to you,” you deadpanned.

“Oh…” he frowned, lips pursing slightly.

“No, silly! Of course I’m talking about you,” you laughed.

“Oh,” he chuckled, smile instantly back on his face. The tips of his ears reddened slightly and he turned back to cleaning the cups in the sink. “That’s cool...bro.”

“Yeah, you’re pretty popular. My friends always told me to try your lattes some time. I didn’t realize you worked at Cafe Dream,” you shook your head lightly, “but now, I can see the behind the scenes.”

“Exactly!” Jeno perked up from behind you, “mark, you can show them the ropes of making a latte. I’ll be going now since my shift ended a little bit ago.” Jeno smiled at you, giving you a thumbs up and a ruffle on the head. “Good luck!”

You turned to Mark, surprised to find his eyes already on you. “Alright, are you ready?”

“What’s your favorite latte?”

“Cinnamon dolce latte,” you answered easily.

Mark nodded, checking the cup one last time to make sure it was dry. “Good choice! We’ll be making that today then.”

He had a cute pout on his lips as he scooped tiny bits of espresso. Liveliness swirled in his eyes when he turned to you, mouth moving as he talked about the flat surface that should make an appearance after tampering it. You nodded, not entirely focused on what buttons he was pushing on the machine. Instead, you admired the way his eyebrows slightly furrowed in concentration. He turned to you and you quickly moved your eyes to the brown liquid that no longer dripped from the tubes of the machine. 

“First step done!” he excitedly announced. Mark held one large, round mug in his left hand and held the espresso in the other. He swished the drink and transferred the drink into the porcelain mug. “Once that’s done we’ll warm up the milk,” he promptly took the container of milk, “some high-quality milk.” 

You watched with a raised brow as his hand moved with each word. “Is it now?” you mused. 

He nodded, mouth moving to ramble about how this is the best milk in the business. Mark wasn’t looking at you. His eyes were darting left and right as his heart sped up to be in time with the words that seemed to endlessly flow out of his mouth. He was well aware that he was giving you a ted talk that you didn’t sign up for, but his brain deemed it best to show just how many adjectives he knew to describe milk. 

Amusement was etched in your eyes and to help save the poor boy, you put a hand on his shoulder. “This milk is very good, I understand.”

Rather quickly, his mouth lined shut. Mutely he nodded and pointed to a line in the measuring cup. Once he remembered to finally use his words, Mark’s voice cracked. “This-” he cleared his throat, “you’ll measure it up to here.” You fought the urge to laugh as a wide grin stretched across your face. Of course, you weren’t looking to where he was pointing. No, you were basking in the light hue of red that adorned his cheeks. 

“Oops,” he muttered, chuckling nervously, “it went over the line a little bit…” Your eyes darted down to the cup when he flickered his gaze to you. 

“Relatively there,” you swiftly commented. Heat rose to your face, but you tilted your head at Mark like you weren’t admiring his face a second ago. 

Averting his eyes, he muttered a ‘yeah’ in agreement before turning around to the machine located behind him. Take some mental notes; that’s what your brain was advising you to do. And for the most part, you were. You knew that that lever pushed out the steam and that that spout was where the steam flowed out from. You knew that you had to place the spout a certain way or something to incorporate air into the milk...whirlpools were mentioned? Slowly your interest faded and your eyes wandered away to important information that would help you with keeping this job. 

If all you were going to do was stare the boy, you should’ve applied for a full-time Mark Lee admirer rather than a part-time barista. 

The banging of the cup against the counter caused you to jump out of your thoughts, quite literally. Mark looked at you with round, apologetic eyes, ‘sorry’ sliding between his teeth. His eyebrows rose up a bit, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Your heart melted at the concern floating in those round pits of warmth he called his eyes.

“It’s okay,” you waved off, slight embarrassment creeping up your neck. He didn’t say anything, simply just keeping his eyes on you. You moved your eyes to the cup of steamed milk in his hand and gestured towards it, “So, that uhm...the milk. The high-quality milk.”

Mark blinked, “Right, yeah! So it should have this glossy texture to it and if there are any bubbles, just make sure to tap it onto the counter.”

You nodded. Anticipation rose high in your chest as he grabbed the white mug with the espresso resting at the bottom. 

“First, tilt the mug to where the espresso is about to come out. It won’t, though,” he reassured, “and then pour a little milk as your base.”

Suddenly, it was really hot in the cafe. Sweat beaded along the line of his hair and he gulped nervously. “Make sure to bring the cup real close,” he instructed, “and I’m not really good at talking while pouring, but I’ll try my best.”

You hummed in acknowledgement and he started to pour. 

“Make sure you aim in the center of the cup. Make sure it’s stable.” 

Going against his own advice, Mark’s hands started to shake, and he hoped you didn’t notice. He tightened his grip on both the cups. Wait, he didn’t know what he was making! A swan? No, it’s too late for that. A tulip? That doesn’t look like an option. It’ll just be a heart, he decided. He focused back on the cup, panic rising when he realized just how fast the coffee was rising.

In your eyes, you had thought everything was flowing just fine; you didn’t see his shaky hands, you didn't notice the indecisiveness in his eyes, you didn’t detect the nervous tilt in his voice. For once, you were actually focused on the task at hand. Everything happened quite quickly, which was quite the opposite in Mark’s eyes. 

He slowly jerked his hand in order to save anything from spilling. Unfortunately, the coffee spilled anyway. It dripped down the rim of the cup, slowly slid down the edge and mocked the tips of his fingers. Though, the sting from the heated liquid was nothing compared to the burn that spread up his neck, passed through his ears and rooted itself in his cheeks.

A wide grin stifled the laugh bubbling in your throat. Embarrassment adorned mark as he shot out apologies like his life depended on it. He went to reach for some napkins, but you placed your hand on his wrist.

“You should go run your hand under cold water,” you suggested, taking the cup from him, “I’ll take care of the drink.”

Sheepishly, he made his way over to the sink. At the same time, you took the napkins he initially reached for and dried the mug. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the blob in the cup; it wasn’t even centered.

Mark walked over to you, hands twisting under a towel, “I’m not usually this messy, I promise.”

“It’s okay,” you giggled, “everyone has their...off days.”

He laughed along with you and nervously rubbed the nape of his neck, “Can you at least tell that it’s a heart.”

You stared hard at the cup.

“Yikes,” he frowned, “that bad?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you excused, “as long as it tastes good, right?”

“I guess,” he shrugged.

You bring the cup up to your lips and, luckily, the drink doesn’t disappoint.

“This is really good!” you praised.

Smiling seemed to come naturally when you were around Mark. How could it not? Especially when his eyes lit up like fireworks during a disney parade.

He stood up straighter, “really?”

“Yeah, it makes up for your quote unquote killer latte art,” you teased.

Mark peered over your shoulder.

“Put it a little closer,” he advised. 

You did as he told you, only lowering the cup full of steamed milk slightly. Without hesitation, he wrapped his hands over yours. The palm of his hand was warm, comfortably covering your own. 

“It should be about this distance.”

Mutely, you nodded. Precipitation made its welcome on your skin and you stared harder at the cup in front of you. Mark’s fingers slightly tightened as he guided you in tilting the cups. He muttered instructions, but they were muffled against the pounding in your ears.

In a matter of seconds, the design was finished, yet his hand was still on yours.

“We did it,” you smiled, gazing proudly at the heart centered in the cup. You turned to look at mark, “Well, I mean, you were the one doing everything-”

“You held the cup!” he interrupted.

“Yeah, that’s true.”

The two of you stood there, side-by-side, hands still touching, and eyes still staring.

“Do you have a map?” Mark asked.

“Uhm, no,” you laughed, “why?

“Because I got lost in your eyes.”

You stared at him in disbelief, “You didn’t.”

“Oh, but I did.”

From across the cafe, Jaemin paused his task of wiping down a table. He chuckled at the scene and turned to Jeno who was fixing the books in the corner library that they recently added. 

“Psst!” 

Jeno dusted off a book.

“Psst!” Jaemin repeated, a little louder this time.

He placed the book back on the shelf. 

“Jeno!” Jaemin drawed out in an annoyed tone.

Jeno jumped. “What?” 

Jaemin rolled his eyes and walked over to the boy. He then nodded towards you and Mark, still standing in close proximity to each other. The light that in your eyes were as bright as Mark’s, and it was comparable to the sun setting in the horizon. 

“Are we sure they’re not dating?” Jeno sighed.

Before Jaemin could answer, a girl walked into the store. The two boys shared a look, smiles wide as the girl stepped closer to the cashier.

Once she stood at the counter, she pushed up her sunglasses. “You guys are a really cute couple!” she commented with a grin.

Jaemin snorted while Jeno held in his laugh when you and Mark jumped away from each other. In the process, you managed to successfully spill the latte on your shirt. Mark’s eyes widened and he quickly grabbed some tissues. He dabbed, once, twice, three times before he stopped.

At the same time, Jeno and Jaemin bursted out laughing. Mark sputtered apologies to you, practically throwing napkins in your direction before turning to the customer waiting at the counter. 

With a flushed face, Mark opened his mouth to explain that the two of you were not dating. However, the only thing that came out of his mouth was, “Boss?”

Your eyes widened. You peeked over at said ‘boss’ and realized that she was indeed the lady who hired you, also known as, the owner of Cafe Dream.

 Kara tsked. “Mark, it’s okay to spend time with your significant other, just don’t act all lovey-dovey during your shift.”

“Boss we’re not-”

“Surprise me with a latte Mark,” she instructed, “I’d like to request a swan please.”

“Yes ma’am,” he sighed. 

Jeno and Jaemin shook their heads as small laughs continued to fall out of their mouths. Mark glared at them from the counter to which they responded with a mock of the previous position that you and him were in.

Jaemin leaned into Jeno's arms, holding the empty coffee mug in his hand and looked up at Jeno dramatically. “Oh handsome one, do you have a map?” he exaggerated.

“I do wish I did, but, as the fates have it, I do not,” Jeno solemnly replied, head bowed and hands also holding the coffee mug in Jaemin’s hands.

Jaemin turned to Mark with a wide grin, “Ah what a shame! It seems that I’ll just forever be lost in your eyes.”

Mark pursed his lips and decided to ignore his obnoxious friends.

The following week was filled with awkwardness.

You and Mark would take turns glancing at one another, only for the both of you to turn at the same time before quickly looking away. You would share small ‘hellos’ and ‘goodbyes’ when the two of you passed each other. Red faces and shy apologies always made an appearance when some sort of physical contact was ever made. 

“Is there a reason why you’re avoiding him?” Jaemin asked you one day when you insisted that you needed help with creating a seven stacked tulip. 

“I’m not avoiding him,” you shrugged.

“Really?” he asked, “so you wouldn’t mind if I called him over?”

“Sure,” you replied nonchalantly.

“Okay, hey Ma-”

“I’m just kidding!” you yelped, glaring at Jaemin. 

“Thought so,” he stated smugly.

You rolled your eyes at him, “whatever.”

“So, back to the original question.”

You frowned at the misshapen tulip in your mug, “Because…”

Jaemin gave you an unimpressed look, “Do you not like him?”

“What? No!”

He raised his brows and glanced at the customers in the cafe who turned their head at the commotion. “That’s a very strong no.”

You apologized with a quick bow before turning to Jaemin. “Isn’t it obvious I like him?”

Jaemin snorted, “Yeah, you practically have heart eyes everytime you look at him.”

“Which is exactly why I’m avoiding him.”

He was now confused. “I don’t get it.”

 “I’m sure that last week he understood that I liked him and he’s been awkward around me since; therefore, I can conclude that he doesn’t like me back,” you explained, leaving behind a puzzled jaemin to process your words while you served a customer your messed up tulip.

When you walked back to the still bewildered Jaemin, he asked, “And did you ask him?”

“Ask him what?”

“If he knew you liked him?”

You laughed, “What are you crazy? Of course I didn’t!”

“So how do you know that he’s avoiding you because he doesn’t like you back?”

“Why else would he be avoiding me, Jaem?”

“Because he likes you and thinks that you don’t like him back,” he answered with a gleaming smile.

You gave him a ‘really?’ look.

He shrugged, “Miscommunication happens all the time.”

You shook your head, “I’m sure this is properly communicated to me; and the message is that I ruined my friendship with Mark.”

“Guess we’ll have to turn to the storage room,” Jaemin sighed, sending an exasperated look to Jeno.

The storage room. 

It’s a nice, small space that can comfortably fit, at max, two people. It was filled with, as you might expect, extra ingredients and supplies needed to run the cafe. There was a small light switch, hidden behind the box of brown sugar on the third shelf located in the back of the closet. Usually, you would just leave the door of the room propped open instead of delving in deep to turn on the light – it was easier for you. 

You frowned and sighed for the nth time. Jaemin had told you that the ingredients for his rice milk latte were gathered in a blue bag hidden in the back shelf. ‘Around the same area as the light switched,’ he referenced. But you just couldn’t find it. 

Suddenly, you heard the door close. 

“Very funny Jaemin,” you muttered, standing up and turning around to open back up the door.

However, you ran into something, or rather, someone.

You screamed and jumped back. You continued moving away from the unknown entity in the closet. Your hand frantically pushed the ingredients off the back shelf to find the light switch.

“Y/n.”

 You paused.

“Y/n, calm down. It’s just me.”

You heard footsteps coming closer to you. “Don’t move!”

The steps paused. You resumed trailing your hand against the wall and finally found the light switch. Upon flicking it on, you saw that the guy was not lying to you; it really was Mark.

“Oh thank the heavens up above,” you whispered, relief washing over you. Without a second thought, you rushed forward and wrapped your arms tightly around his torso. Mark, on the other hand, stood there in shock. When you realized what you were doing, you quickly let go.

You cleared your throat, “Sorry.”

He lightly chuckled, “No, you’re fine.”

Crickets.

“So, uhm, we should probably get back to work, huh?” you suggested.

“Yeah! Of- of course,” Mark smiled, turning around to open the door. He chuckled nervously, continuing to twist the door knob.

“It’s not opening, is it?” you asked.

“No.”

You cursed Jaemin under your breath. “We’re locked in here,” you stated. 

“Yep.”

Clicking your tongue, you made your way over to the door and started pounding on it. “Jaemin, open the door!”

No answer.

“I know you can hear me!” you shouted, fist against the wood never seizing.

Still no answer.

Just as you were about to shout again, Mark spoke. “I’m sorry.”

“That you scared me? It’s fine, I should’ve turned on the lights right away,” you waved off.

“No, I’m sorry that I’ve been avoiding you.”

You stood there, limbs unmoving and back faced towards him.

“I just- we- you-” Mark sighed, “I really like you. Like, like-like you. Like more than a friend.”

If you weren’t bewildered by his confession, you would’ve teased him about the amount of times he used the word like. You turned around and pointed an accusatory finger at him, “Did Jaemin tell you to say that?”

He furrowed his brows, “Wha- no!”

You leaned back with squinted eyes and crossed arms, “was it jeno?

“It...it wasn’t Jeno either,” he answered, scratching the nape of his neck. 

“Mark, if you’re messing with me-“

“Why would I do that?” he asked, voice soft, “why would I confess something that could potentially destroy our friendship?” Mark shook his head, “I understand that you don’t feel the same way, but-“

“Woah woah woah,” you interrupted, “I never said I didn’t like you back.”

He tilted his head, mouth opening before shutting close.

“I’m just...suspicious of your truth,” you squint. 

Mark laughs. His shoulders shake, his feet shuffle, his hands clap and the joyous sound propels out from his wide opened mouth. He slightly scrunches his nose in a lovable manner, eyes crescents as he starts to calm down.

You watched in admiration and, also, concern. 

He starts to walk towards you, top row of his teeth still shone bright as the corners of his mouth curved upwards. You don’t pull away when he takes your hands in his. Softly, his calloused fingers slot themselves in between your own.

“I’m so relieved!” he exclaimed, head thrown back. 

“Are you just going to leave me in confusion or…” you trailed off. Disappointment swirled in your stomach when he let go of one of your hands, but it turned into butterflies when he cupped your face.

“I can reassure you that I like you and it was my decision to confess. No Jeno, no Jaemin, no one told me to say anything,” he paused, “unless… you consider my heart as someone.”

You chuckled.

“Then I guess you could say that my heart told me to tell you that you-”

“Mark, I get it.”

He smiled, “Right. Rambling again, huh? I seem to do that a lot, but mostly around you. During my freshman year when I was presenting-”

You gave him a look.

He cleared his throat, “So, do you like me?”

“Do I-” you stared at him, flabbergasted. You sniffled lowly and turned you head, hoping you looked like you were gazing off cooly in the distance. With a nonchalant shrug, you mimicked the way Mark favored the word ‘like.’

“Yeah. I like you like a little bit, you know, like nothing major.”

“I’m just going to ignore the fact that you attacked me for no reason.”

“Do like what you want, it’s like whatever, you know,” you grinned teasingly.

He shot you a playfully disappointed look. “Is it too late to take back the fact that I like you?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be fair if you marked yourself in my heart and then just decided to leave.”

“Oh my- you still remember that?” he whined.

“My name is Mark, you can Mark me in your heart,” you winked. 

He shook his head, “Gross.”

“Such a way with words,” you teased, “so poetic. Shakespeare is shaking.”

More breathy laughs were exchanged between the two of you before silence enveloped the room. His hand was still comforting your face and your stomach was still filled with butterflies. You felt like your heart would leap out of your chest when he started to lean in; his wide, doe eyes slowly closing shut. You mirrored his actions and started to lean in too.

“Why is the door locked?” someone asked from outside.

The both of you jolted forward at the noise, foreheads bumping roughly. With a wince, you turned towards the intruder.

Jeno’s eyes widened and he muttered a quick apology before closing the door. It didn’t shut, however, because he pushed it back open and grinned at the doorway. 

“Nice!” he nodded, “you guys made up-”

Anything else he was about to say was cut off by you. 

“Go Mark, do it!” you shouted, arms clinging around Jeno in hopes to hold him down.

Mark was quick to move and started to noogie Jeno. 

“Ow, ow, ow! Hey, I’m not the one who locked the door, alright? Jaemin was the mastermind behind all of this!” Jeno tried to explain.

“But you still pushed me in the room!” Mark frowned, stopping his poor revenge on the boy.

You let go of the victim and scanned the cafe. 

Many of the customers were staring at the fiasco in amusement; however, there was one specific person who looked annoyed. You didn’t pay that person any mind, focusing on the barista untying his apron. 

“Would you look at the time?” Jaemin nervously laughed, “it’s my break!”

He gently placed his untied apron on the counter by the register and smiled at you, “Gotta blast!”

And you would’ve chased after the blue haired boy who ran out of the cafe, but that one annoyed customer approached the counter. 

“You know, I keep telling myself ‘I hired them for a reason,’ so please,” Kara said carefully, “prove me right.”

She sternly squinted at you, then to Mark, and lastly, to Jeno.

“What about Jaemin-” Mark started.

“Should you really be worried about him right now?” 

“No boss.”

Kara nodded and smiled sweetly at the three of you. “Are drinks on the house?”

[hansolmates]

jjk; angel’s trumpet [01]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, mentions of smut in future chapters w.c; 2.7k a/n; after spending an entirety of june on this fic im proud to release it! this story is based on the prompt “I’m losing my mind!” for @btsghostiewritersnet​ BGW Bingo Bash! I hope you all enjoy this mini series and stay tuned for this wild ride

[01] [02] -> masterpost

“Just give it up!” Jungkook snaps, and you flinch at the sudden raise in voice level. Jungkook is a soft spoken person, only really having the audacity to speak up at the strength of his friends or when his body burns with attention after a performance. The fact that he chooses to use this tone around you, gets you seeing white hot. 

“How can I give up something that hasn’t even started?” you shoot back just as stubbornly. He won’t even let you in his room, and it pains you that he wants to fight out in the hallway where anyone could walk in and see. You glare at the heavy arms that bar your way inside, as if he’s creating a barrier for you, both emotionally and physically.

You hate this. For the past three months you’ve hated this version of yourself, manifested between the strained relationship of you and Jungkook. It pains you to see each other like this. Jungkook’s ears are tinged red with fever, simultaneously a little sick and a little annoyed at the fact that you wouldn’t let up. 

It wasn’t always mismatched stares and bouts of mixed signals whenever you two entered a room. There was a time when it being in each other’s presence was like a breath of fresh air, a bakery full of nothing but sweets and mouth-watering confections. That’s not to say that your relationship with Jungkook was, or is easy. After all, Jungkook chose a life that is never meant to be easy, no matter how far deep. 

But at the crux of everything, deep in your gut, you know that the both of you have that spark. 

“We can’t be together.” Jungkook states simply, pressing his coral lips together in a thin line. “My career! The traveling, the media, my crazy schedule, all of this, it doesn’t match.” 

It doesn’t match. Like the way a toddler puts a triangle block in a square space. In your opinion Jungkook is pointing out shallow, baseless reasons. You’ve gotten this far together, not quite addressing any officiality but leading to it. If all of his reasons really mattered, you wouldn’t be here right now. Unfortunately, Jungkook’s deciding to cut the line when the two of you have already sunk so deep. 

You’re both hurting, Jungkook doesn’t want to admit that. 

“But that doesn’t matter to me!” you reason, and you’re crumbling. Jungkook was once a fighter, too. Today, it feels like it’s just you who’s taking a stand, grappling on thin slices of thread that resemble what little confidence Jungkook has in the both of you. “I want to keep you grounded. I want to be the person you come home to.” 

Jungkook’s face reaches the final boss: a frustrating shade of scarlet, stunned at how shameless you are. You didn’t care, you know what you and Jungkook feel for each other is real. 

In a fit of emotion your hands reach for the crook of his elbow, grappling the black fabric between your fingers. It’s enough to ignite heat in your veins, starved of touch from so many nights apart and text messages that weren’t enough to convey how you truly felt. 

Jungkook’s eyes drag from your grip to your face, eyes glimmering. You look so small in the large hallway, empty and echoing between both your heaving breaths. There’s acute control in his expression, as if he’s grappling to reach both an inner and outer peace with himself. 

You bite your lip, sealing away your whimper of protest as he takes his hand in yours, untacking your grip. He’s not rough, but not gentle either as your hand pendulums to your lap. 

He turns his back to you, and for the first time you’re glad he looks away because the tears have already fallen. “Maybe in another world, we’d work out. But not this one.” Jungkook whispers, slamming the door to his studio. 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

“Baby, it’s okay! You’ll find a new person to love!” The neverending flow of liquor and poetics is provided by none other than Sehlyung, a fellow employee you befriended after you got hired as a language teacher. 

You barely register Sehlyung’s hopeful smile through your misty eyes. Feeling bloated with liquid and far too tired to reply, you bob your head against the bar table. 

Sehlyung is the epitome of a fun time, and the first person you thought of to help quell your aching heart. A relationship that first started off as snide jokes and offhanded work qualms that eventually turned into a deep understanding and care for each other. After a long day of work she pulled through for you, showing up at the bar like a warrior in emerald green pencil slacks and an untucked blouse. At the edge of the bar she absentmindedly winds a lock of pale curly hair, sipping languidly from her electric blue beverage. 

“Listen, I get it. You think it’s the end of the world because Jungkook seems like the perfect catch—” the pretty blonde pauses when she notices your lip tremble, “but! He’s not that perfect, y’know. He—he sweats, sweats a lot, it’s like he’s freakin’ Niagara! It takes forever to get outfits on him in-between sets, it’s like clothing a wet noodle.” 

You choke back a laugh, shaking your head. “That is one flaw.” 

“A-and he’s very,” she starts waving her hands around, plucking the answer out of thin air, “competitive? Remember that one time Nabi said he couldn’t finish that whole loaf of milk bread? And then he accidentally ended up eating the parchment paper?” 

That has you in a fit of giggles, recalling how scared he was when his urge to make Nabi regret her words bit him right back in the butt. The hospital’s personal phone became number 8 on his speed dial shortly after. 

A fond, tentative smile melts on Sehlyung’s lips. At least you had it in in you to laugh, which Sehlyung knows is a good sign. She runs her fingers over your hair, forehead damp from your previous wallowing and overconsumption. ”You’re gonna find yourself a simple, wholesome partner! One who’s top-tier normie and will have all the time in the world for you!” 

You grimace at the thought, despite how uplifting that sounds. You once thought that was the only life for you, a nuclear family with two point five kids (the half point being a puppy, of course.) While you wouldn’t mind that kind of life, after meeting Jungkook you decided long ago that all you ever needed in a relationship was his company and combined happiness. 

“Time isn’t the issue,” you slur, voice warped from how your lips fall tiredly against your arm. “This issue is that he doesn’t want to try.” 

Sehlyung doesn’t say anything to that, but instead prefers to pour you another glass of liquid despair. Of course, she knew how Jungkook got. Sweet and caring, but headstrong, letting nothing get in the way of his music. 

Evidently, you’re one of those things. 

“Boys are dumb,” she says simply, swinging her head back. 

“I’ll be okay,” you murmur, “it just hurts. There’s no closure, y’know? I feel it, I feel so much love for him. And I know he feels, he feels something.” 

Sehlyung bites her lip, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Hey, I got you a gift.” 

That gets you to perk up, your head tipping a miniscule degree. She pulls out a glass, filled with a clear liquid. It’s small, almost vial-shaped, enough for barely two shots. Inside, there’s a young flower shaped like a bellsprout. 

“It’s angel wine,” she chirps, pulling your shot glass to give you a hearty pour. “The old lady was selling it when I was getting my mom her ginger wine.” 

“Hm, is it like ginseng?” you ask curiously, grabbing the now half-empty bottle where the wet flower sat. The bell shape, despite being bloated with residual wine, still clung vibrantly to the glass. The bumblebee yellow and sunset orange tint looking absolutely mesmerizing. However, you’ve never seen an infused liquor quite like this. 

“Think so,” Sehlyung shrugs, “I’m sure you’ll like it though! I told her about how you got dumped and she said you’d need this to cap off your night!” 

She snatches the bottle from your hands, making sure it’s sealed tight before slipping into your purse. “That wine’s special, baby,” she winks, “save it for yourself when you get home, alright?” 

“Gee, Lyungie,” you deadpan, swirling the fragrant liquid, “I’m so glad my boy drama is spreading to your wine dealer.” 

Your friend holds her own drink in a toast, urging you to drink up. You don’t need to be told twice, the floral liquid going down surprisingly smooth. It’s sweet, and your whole body tingles. It’s like the feeling of being outside, and the sun shines over your exposed skin like a warm kiss. For a brief moment, you feel like you’re seeing pink and orange, blissfully satiated. 

“Mm,” you hum, licking your lips in hopes the feeling will return to you, “that’s some good stuff, got anymore?” 

Sehlyung scoffs, only mildly jealous that you get that particular drink all to yourself. “I wish. An arm and a leg cost me that, my hometown is very far!” 

The rest of the night is a haze, a comfortable one. Sehlyung goes off about Namjoon and his countless wardrobe malfunctions, keeping her from going home on time one way too many nights. You talk about how you’re getting into real progress with Soobin’s English, and how he doesn’t complain his head hurts when he speaks in full sentences. Hopefully he isn’t too mad when you send him a pop quiz next Tuesday. 

Sehlyung’s cab drops you off first, and she bids you a hug and kiss goodbye. She tells you to come a little early before your first class, because she wants to redesign Seokjin’s blazer for a new shoot and she wants you to pick out the best crystals. 

You know she just wants to show off and that your opinion is minimal because most of the decisions are made weeks before, but the gesture is appreciated. From Sehlyung’s knowing gaze, you have a feeling that she’s also doing this because she wants to keep you at arm’s length for as long as possible. 

The cab zips away first, leaving you in front of your apartment complex. You’re teetering on your heels like an infant, and you’re surprised that you managed to fake-sober this far into the night. 

Speaking of. It’s beautiful outside. With a tired sigh, you wrap yourself further into your burgundy knitted scarf, begging for warmth. You feel a fresh bout of tears surfacing as you look onto the pale yellow moon, shrouded by thick ghosty clouds among the starless sky. You wonder if Jungkook is looking at the same moon, thinking the same thing. 

You shake your head and wipe your tears, absolving you of that romantic notion. Jungkook hasn’t had the time to look at the stars in so long. You imagine he’s probably either working or sleeping soundly in his bunk, completely oblivious of the semi-depressing night you’ve had. You don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse that Jungkook doesn’t have the opportunity to dwell on feelings for too long. 

The midnight sky starts to flicker, as if night and day are competing for dominance. Either that, or it’s really late in the night and early in the day. Your vision starts to blur, and you wonder if the secretary at the front desk would be so kind as to help you up to your apartment. It’s embarrassing, but it’s better than you cracking your skull open in the middle of the hallway where anyone can find you. You clutch your head, bemoaning on how much alcohol must be running through your blood if you’re hallucinating this much. 

Wiping your bleary face, you dig into your purse for your keys. Upon pulling out the key your favorite lip balm rolls onto the street. A little part of you feels like leaving it behind so you can get to bed, but it’s your favorite one and you are so close to finishing it. Muttering a curse at the thought of bending down at the possibility of you vomiting in public, you quickly scramble to the ground. Your knees buck at the pavement, tiny stones digging into your skin. Focusing your gaze on the pink and blue plastic, you reach for the glittery tube. 

Unfortunately, you’re not quick enough to notice the moving truck swerve the corner and skid towards your body. 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

The first thing you notice is that it’s unbearably bright. Like when you vegetate in a dark classroom watching a movie, and the teacher suddenly flips the lights on without warning and your brain panics from the shock. 

You’re also painfully sober, as if you didn’t have a liquor-based dinner. Your bladder doesn’t feel like a small child is sitting on it, and you’re wide awake. 

Someone’s yelling at you, their voice shrill from emotion yet gravely from the early morning. Suddenly there’s a whip of hot air against your hair and a harsh skid as the smell of tire on gravel fills your nose. You’re on sensory overload, and you don’t have the capacity to care about your surroundings. 

This is probably the third time you have to mentally repeat to yourself that it’s daytime, the sun shining brightly on your fallen form. Your body is splayed out in a half-starfish position, and you quickly close your legs in fear of someone seeing up your skirt. You put up a hand to cover your face, and it’s instantly snatched up by a larger one. 

“Hey, hey! Are you okay? I know I turned the corner pretty fast, but you shouldn’t be standing in the middle of the street like that!” the person calling you sounds frantic, frustrated at your lack of response. 

Your eyes flicker to the small jet black cruiser strewn across the sidewalk, haphazardly parked. Fingers curling around the person’s hand, you look up at their face and scream. 

It’s now their turn to collapse on the floor, eyes wide and terrified. Their soft black hair is fluffy and sweaty from using their helmet, now rolling away from their grip. 

“What?” he screams back, as if there’s something on his face. His hand whips up to clutch his collar, undoing the top button because he’s starting to sweat profusely. “Are you really injured? Do I need to call an ambulance or something—” 

“Jungkook!” you cry, ripping the woolen scarf from your neck to wrap it around the top half of his face. You scramble between his legs, making sure his piercings, tattoos and any other identifiable part of his body is concealed. You don’t even think about your fight from last night, knowing that it’s miniscule in comparison to Jungkook being swarmed by PR. “Kook, what the fuck? It’s broad daylight, you can’t be out like this without a mask! Where on earth did you hide that bike? Why—are you wearing fucking pastel green? Since when have you added color to your wardrobe?” the boy noticeably pauses at the attention to his outfit, tensing under your ministrations. “Dispatch will have your ass and the devil Min Yoongi’ll kill you again for sneaking out—”

It’s then that Jungkook snaps, two strong arms pushing you away like paper. You don’t expect Jungkook to ever lay a hand on you, and with a surprised yelp you’re painfully shoved onto the pavement.  

“Get off of me!” he cries, and throws your scarf on your lap. “Who the hell are you and why do you know my name?” 

He’s scared, holding his helmet like you’ve burned him. His doe eyes are glistening and dewy, as if you’re someone he should be running away from. 

“Jungkook—” and as you hold out your hand to him, you realize. 

I’m losing my mind, you think, clutching your head to double-check no injury has come to your brain. His hair is much, much longer. It waves and falls into his eyes, as if he’s just gotten out of bed. He’s wearing a backpack, and you notice some crumpled post-its sticking out of the zipper. Clipped around his neck is a university ID. Heck, he isn’t even wearing an outfit you recognize. Gone are the cargos and oversized sweats, replaced with professionally tapered dress pants and a plain polo. 

Is...  is Jungkook wearing khakis? 

It’s daylight, you’re sober, and the Jungkook that’s standing in front of you is not your Jungkook. 

[angelaiswriting]

The Contest (1 of 7) | some R6S guys x fem!reader

✏️ Pairing: Bandit / Blitz / Glaz / Jäger / Tachanka x fem!reader

✏️ Summary: Dominic Brunsmeier can’t keep his goddamn mouth shut when it comes to eating pussy, and that’s how Y/N found herself being drafted to be the judge of this pussy-eating contest. (Straight out of a dream @kind-wolf​ had)

✏️ A/N: I... ehm, am a hoe, whoops 🙊 y’all, enjoy! Thank you, Alice, for always having great dreams and for letting me write about this. 🥰 The first actual part is coming soon, I just want to write a bit more of part four to avoid dishing everything out now and making you wait for the rest.

✏️ Warnings: nothing yet, but still 18+ only for sexual themes (oral sex f/r) being discussed.

✏️ Word-count: 1,937

✏️ The links to the other parts are in the masterlist linked in my bio.

THE CONTEST  |  >> part two: elias >>

When Y/N entered the lounge room, the conversation was already flowing and as she was already tired from the testosterone-filled day spent at the practically almost empty base, she didn’t make much of an effort to join it. She simply reached the alcohol cabinet, poured herself some whiskey, and sat down in one of the empty armchairs, ready to allow her drink and her friends’ voices in the background to fully relax her.

The day she had ahead was another one of those boring days. She was base-bound for the time being: other teams had been sent on various missions and only a bunch of operators had been left behind “on hold”. It wasn’t that bad: it meant having some days off, but those days often felt way too long and their emptiness brought up a heavy boredom she didn’t always know how to banish.

Her head had just leaned back against the cool faux leather of the armchair when her ears picked up bits of the conversation the boys were having and her eyebrows furrowed.

“Eating pussy is not a hobby,” Glaz was saying matter-of-factly.

Y/N’s eyes shot open, and the sip of whiskey that was halfway down her throat almost choked her.

“That’s something someone who doesn’t know how to eat pussy would say,” was Dominic’s reply. His eyebrows were knitted together and his lips almost pursed in disbelief at what his friend had just said. But then, when his gaze swept over and settled on Y/N, sitting right opposite him with the low coffee table separating them, his expression relaxed and his free hand, the one not holding his beer, came up to stroke his beard. “Have you ever eaten pussy so good you start considering learning how to breathe out of your ears?” he said and although he wasn’t talking directly to her, he was talking about her. He had told her just that a couple of weeks ago; he had groaned those words right against the chafed and tender skin of her inner thighs as she was still shivering with the aftershocks of her umpteenth orgasm, and she had breathlessly chuckled out loud at the mental picture that concept had painted in her mind.

At that, Marius laughed, a sound right from deep down his throat as Elias coughed in the attempt not to choke on his own drink. “You know no discretion.”

“Of course not! This motherfucker just said eating pussy can’t be considered a hobby!” Burning with disbelief, Dominic took a long sip of his beer and as he did so, he settled better in his armchair and allowed his ankles to cross as he rested his feet on the coffee table. “You learn how to eat delicious, juicy pussy, Glazkov,” he continued, the corners of his mouth curling upwards, “and then we’ll see if you still don’t change your mind.”

Timur groaned something in Russian and Alex cackled next to him. “I already know how to eat pussy, Christ. I bet I’m even better than you at it. You’re just boasting, but it’s all smoke in the eyes.”

Alexsandr proclaimed his agreement with a raise of his drink and before Dominic had the time to speak again, Y/N intervened, hoping to put an end to the discussion.

“Are you guys really arguing about your oral skills?” she scoffed, pulling her knees closer as her head leaned back against the headrest of the armchair. “How old are you, fifteen?”

“Listen, you know I’m right.” Dominic’s insistence threatened to make her smile, but hiding it was easy behind the rim of her tumbler. “You have to get down eye-level with your woman’s pussy and give it your fucking best. If you don’t go down on her like that’s the best thing you’ll ever do in your days, then you better leave the room to the pro.”

“Who, you?” Marius scoffed, eyeing his friend up and down before rolling his eyes at his Well, yeah, of course.

“Oh, fuck off. What are you, the self-proclaimed Cunnilingus Lord?”

“I don’t see anyone else worthy of that title here, so yeah, sure.”

There was a sudden uproar of “You clearly haven’t seen my women with me between their legs,” and “I’m sure you don’t even know where the clit is,” until Glaz’s voice seemed to drown out the others.

“You’re so full of bullshit, Brunsmeier.”

“I won’t let a child with his mom’s milk still on his upper lip insult me!” And while everyone’s words felt heavy and tense in the silence of the base, they all knew it was just a way to tease each other in the vain attempt to liven things up in these days’ placidity. Maybe an impromptu fight was just what they needed to have some fun.

But then, as Timur and Dominic stared each other down, Y/N’s soft laughter catalyzed the men’s attention onto something else. “I can’t believe you’re really about to fight over this. Why don’t you just sit in a circle and jerk each other off? The tension in here is palpable. When was the last time y’all had an orgasm?” She smirked and when she turned and caught Alex’s almost-shocked facial expression, something she never thought she’d one day see at the mention of sex, she chuckled some more. “You should place bets, and then come back and see who’s actually the best. The winner wins the money and the title of Cunnilingus Lord.” It was a joke, one she didn’t think would have a follow-up.

Silence ensued, and she would swear she could hear their brains work at maximum capacity as they mulled over her words. She knew how filthy-mouthed and filthy-minded these men could be — and she had spent more time with them than she had ever done before the past week — but it was still somewhat surprising to catch them red-handed as they fought about who had it bigger — or, in this case, who ate pussy out the best.

“What about a contest?” was Alexsandr’s proposal. He was sitting with his legs spread open and his hands in-between them, still holding onto his shot glass.

Everyone seemed to agree on his proposal and for a moment, as they spoke their minds, Y/N let her eyes close once more: if they wanted to challenge each other to a stupid contest, let them. The peace didn’t last long, though, because at some point, just as she was contemplating a nice bath instead of a shower before hitting the sack, someone called her name, and her eyes shot open just in time to see Dominic’s mischievous grin before it disappeared for good.

“I was saying,” he spoke up again, voice slow and measured as his feet came to rest on the floor and his legs spread a little wider, catching her eye, “that you would make an excellent judge.”

“And a partial one,” complained Marius, to which Dominic complained with a But she loves getting head! “We all know you two spend more time in the same bed than you do in separate rooms.”

She scoffed at that, more annoyed at the thought that someone would think she’d make someone else win on purpose than she was at the fact that she had just been brought into such a game. “Just because I’ve seen his dick more than I’ve seen yours doesn’t mean I don’t know how to judge good oral skills.” She frowned.

“It’s settled then.” Timur was grinning and his eyes seemed to twinkle under the lights of the room. “We eat you out, and you proclaim the winner.”

“Slow down, I never said I’d participate in your silly game.”

“But you also didn’t seem that opposed to it a second ago,” Dominic remarked. He was smirking again, and she knew he had something in mind. “You make the rules, and drop out if things start getting uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, no hard feelings,” Elias smiled, trying to look more innocent than she knew he was. “We care about you; you know we’d never push anything that could cause you discomfort.”

She eyed them all, one after the other, pondering the pros and cons of having these five men’s faces between her legs and not because of some chokehold during training. She had no problem saying yes to Dominic — she had been saying yes to him for longer than she could actually recall, and he had never disappointed. But it still felt rather weird to know that while it was just sex and they weren’t exclusive, that man was okay with that. He knew how to be possessive, but he wasn’t exactly jealous, and although they had never talked about it, she had never thought of him as someone who would share so willingly.

Unless his ego was at stake, though, apparently.

“There won’t be any dick involved,” she decided eventually. “I don’t know about clothes yet, but if I say you must keep them on, you will keep them on, understood?”

There followed a chorus of Yes, Ma’am and although her body relaxed against the leather of her armchair, she found herself squeezing her thighs together.

“No toys allowed, but fingers are fair game,” she added. “Scratch that, their use is highly encouraged. We can do it anywhere you want as long as it’s somewhere private. But absolutely no exhibitionism: there’s only going to be me and one of you in the room at a time. Only one person in a day, for God’s sake, I have other things to do other than being the judge for your stupid game.”

“Deal,” was Elias and Timur’s rushed reply and they exchanged a look at the simultaneity of the action.

“I’m not done,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “I’d say the rule is only one orgasm per participant but if you’re good at it — and you’ll understand it from my reaction —, you have free reign to give me another.” It was a plain attempt at riling Dominic up because it had been clear, just a few moments ago, that he thought he was the best, la crème de la fucking crème when it came to giving head to a woman, and a sick part of her wished she could be able to challenge him that tad bit more. “I don’t care about the order you decide to follow, that’s your business. I’d just like for you to let me know at least the day prior, so that if I’m busy with something Rainbow, we can reschedule.” She sat back for a moment, thinking of something else to add, but she came up empty-ended. “Now, if you accept these rules, you’re in, otherwise forget about getting close to my pussy.”

They all agreed, and they all promised they’d be good boys and behave.

“What’s the final prize?” Alexsandr inquired after a while, almost absent-mindedly.

“The knowledge that the winner is the best in this room at eating pussy? I thought that would be enough,” she laughed. “You can bet real money, that’s your business. But,” and she stared right in Dominic’s eyes as she prepared herself for what was to leave her lips, “another go between my legs could be put up for grabs.”

Dominic’s That’s out of discussion! put the others’ exclamations of jubilee to silence. “You go down on her only once, you fuckers. That’s it.”

Her grin at his reaction only widened when Timur spoke up again.

“What are you worried about?” And then, to the others, barely holding back his laughter, “Maybe the expert isn’t really that great after all.”

Feedback is always welcome if you want to drop old me a line 💛

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[mi6-cafe]

THESE ARE THE FINAL LDWS DRABBLES!

For the finale, we asked our competitors to write exactly 400 words in which they had to use the phrase “we aim to please”.

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#1

Title: Live to Serve Author: sorion Warnings: alludes to the current political climate in the US (and to a lesser degree the UK) Summary: Bond completes objectives. How he completes them is up to him.

Bond barely batted an eye when his solitary corner of the bar he'd chosen was invaded by another patron with his own drink.

"Felix," he greeted him.

"James. What a surprise."

Bond's smirk widened. "Tell the truth. You knew I was in the States the moment I set foot on the ground."

Felix's lip twitched sardonically. "When you got on the plane to come here."

Bond chuckled.

"I've learned that it pays to keep track of your movements." He tilted his head to look at him and raised an eyebrow. "Just in case."

"I'd be insulted if I didn't do the same thing with you."

They grinned at each other wordlessly and returned to their drinks.

"So," Felix interrupted their companionable silence. "What brings you here?"

"Is that American for, 'What havoc can I expect you to wreak on my home turf'?"

Felix pretended to consider that. "Sounds about right."

Bond's amused eyes wandered to the muted news on the television in the corner of the bar and darkened. "Not as much havoc as I'd like to wreak."

Felix followed his line of sight. "Tell me about it," he agreed. Then he straightened, cleared his throat, and added in a chatty tone, "What's your people's stance on overthrowing foreign governments, these days?"

Bond, fortunately, wasn't swallowing at that moment, or he would have choked on it. It still took all his not inconsiderable self-restraint to not laugh out loud. "Overthrowing governments of allies is sadly frowned upon." He pondered that for a second. "Yours?"

"Same." He leaned closer. "Any orders to such an effect, regardless?" he asked carefully.

Bond shook his head. "More's the pity. I live to serve, and I serve by completing objectives." He squinted at Felix. "How I complete them is my prerogative, however."

Felix nodded slowly, indicating that he was operating similarly.

"What I'd like to do," Bond continued, his lethal eyes on the news, "would be like trying to put out a fire with nitro-glycerine, so I was thinking something more subtle."

"Mhm..." Felix hummed, his voice thrumming with satisfaction. "Subtle is not quite your thing."

Bond's shark-like smile was all teeth. "I know a guy..."

"Smart, dark-haired, gorgeous, can kill from his bed in his pyjamas?" Felix guessed.

They shared a look like two bloodhounds catching a scent.

Felix held out his hand.

Bond took it.

"We live to serve. We aim to please."

#2

Title: An Assist Author: Anyawen Warnings: Summary: Bond learns that he's been equipped with an unlooked-for advantage.

Bond paused, studying the bullet he was loading into his spare clip. There were scratches on the base of the casing. That was decidedly odd. Q would never send out ammunition with any sort of flaw that could impair its use, or worse, damage the gun — or the agent using it. He ran a finger over the base but couldn't detect the scratches. Turning it in his hands he looked again. Definitely there. And, he checked, also on all the other bullets in the clip. The chance of a bad bullet from Q-branch was staggeringly small, but not zero. The chance of an entire bad batch escaping notice, however, could be measured in negative numbers. If Q sent these bullets out into the field, then these marks were meant to be there. There must be a reason for them. There was something niggling at him. He’d seen this pattern of scratches before. He glanced over at his Walther. Picking it up he peered at it closely, turning it over and over in his hands. Ah. There it was. On the back of the trigger was a faint glimmer of markings. ... .||. .|.. .| |.|. . .|. .  ... | ..| |.. . || ..| ... It took him a minute to recognize that the lines were dashes among a smattering of dots. After that realization the letters came easily. "placere studemus" Translating the Latin took slightly longer. A moment later he tapped his ear and heard the faint ambient sounds of Q-branch through the earwig. "Do you require assistance, 007?" Q asked. "Interesting numbers in your annual report." "Focus on the mission, Bond. We can discuss—  " "Decreased stray bullet injuries on ops over the last year, but no noticeable increase in range scores," Bond continued, speaking over Q. "True." "We're hitting our targets more often without actually being better shots." "An impressive feat." "Very. I've not seen magic like it since my gran passed." "I- What?" "She was a hedge witch." "Oh. Are you ..." "No," Bond replied as he finished loading the clip. "Can't sense or cast magic. Recognized the marks as spellwork, though. Nice work. You're some sort of technomage?" "Something like that." "And the spell?" "Merely an assist." "An effective one." "Thank you." "Just one thing, Q." "Yes?" "Is that phrase really the best anchor you could come up with?" "Well. You can't deny it's apropos. After all, 'we aim to please.'”

#3

Title: Marketing Research Author: stormofsharpthings Warnings: sex? Summary: Bond discovers what Q Branch has been working on lately

“Well, well, Quinn.”

As Bond dropped the gunmetal grey box next to his laptop, Q felt a cold shudder spill down his spine. There were still a few secrets he’d managed to keep from his lover, though apparently he now had one less. “You should never have been able to access that part of the lab.”

“Mmm, so I was informed. Top Secret. I had to be quite persuasive. An interesting project though, Quinn.”

Q fought down a surge of jealousy at the thought of what that persuasion might have been. “You know that’s not my real name, it’s just a joke amongst the techs.” He crossed his arms in irritation. “Dammit, James, you were snooping! This prototype was meant to be a birthday surprise.”

“It’s certainly surprising.” Bond’s finger traced the embossed lettering lovingly. “And not at all an exploding pen, which I was rather expecting. However did you get this past the projects committee?”

Q sighed. “Given the proclivities of double-ohs, it was an easy sell as a test product. A quite unexpected way to deliver drugs or implant trackers, should the need arise.”

“The box is a bit of a giveaway, though, don’t you think? The logo is literally a Q with a tree branch entwined.”

“That’s not the final packaging! They were just having a bit of a joke!”

Bond raised an eyebrow as he opened the box, stroking a finger delicately over the contents. Q felt a twitch of reluctant arousal as he watched those so very precise fingertips linger on certain details.

“So delightfully unexpected, Q,” James purred as he picked up the creamy vellum card inside. “‘Quinn’tessential Ecstasies,” he read aloud. “Is all of Q Branch so prone to puns and in-jokes?” He smirked and dropped the card back into the box. “But don’t you think ‘We Aim To Please’ is a bit on the nose for a gun-shaped dildo?” James chuckled, picking it up and fondling it in a way that made Q’s trousers just a little more snug.

Q glared. “As if subtlety is your strong suit.”

James laughed wickedly. “I’m quite impressed with the trigger-activated vibrations. Whatever made you think of this?”

“It seemed natural, since an exploding pen is out of the question in the bedroom, and you do have a rather unhealthy attachment to your Walther.”

“It needs testing. And since you present such a tempting target, Q…”

#4

Title: Double, Double, Toil and Trouble Author: SouffleGirl91 Warnings: None Summary: On an undercover mission, Bond considers the merits of murdering customers.

“Is the hazelnut syrup sugar-free?”

Bond bit back a sigh, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

“I’m afraid not. Only the cinnamon and vanilla syrups are sugar-free.”

It wasn’t the stupidest question in the world, but this had been going on for five minutes. Or maybe three. It felt like five hours.

First, it had been “what’s the difference between a latte and a flat white?” Which… fair enough. He’d had to quickly remember his crash course in coffee-making to bullshit an explanation without saying “the flat white is cheaper but costs more.”

Then, it was “why does the oat milk have a surcharge but the soy milk doesn’t?” prompting a lesson in the economics of non-dairy milk alternatives all the while considering drowning his customer in said soy milk.

So: not the stupidest question in the world, but quite possibly the stupidest customer.

“I’ll have a cappuccino.”

Seriously?

“Was that with soy milk?”

“Oh no, just regular milk’s fine.”

How was this his life?!

“Syrup?”

“No, thanks.”

He could feel his molars grinding with the force of his fake smile. Five minutes! For nothing!

“And what name is it?”

“Karen.”

Of course it was.

He had been stuck in this god-forsaken job for three weeks, and was seriously weighing the pros and cons of ‘accidentally’ causing an explosion. Things like that happened, right? He could probably get away with it

“No, you can’t kill her.”

Bond stifled a groan. Bad enough that he was stuck undercover as a bloody barista in Canada, without having Q in his ear all day judging his latte art and thwarting his murder plans. It turned out the Quartermaster was the bloody customer service police.

“I would never,” he muttered, too quiet for anyone else to hear. The last thing he needed was for his temporary “colleagues” to overhear him talking to thin air.

“Of course not. Just like you’d never feed your gun to a komodo dragon.”

“You know damned well that was an accident,” he whispered, sprinkling cocoa powder through a bloody maple leaf stencil. “How much longer, Q?”

Q just hummed apologetically.

Straightening his shoulders and pasting another ‘friendly’ smile on his face, Bond handed over the drink.

“Well, at least you’re generous with the cocoa.”

“Fuck you, Karen.”

“We aim to please. Enjoy your drink.”

Bond wondered whether he could talk Q into blowing the place up after all.

#5

Title: Distraction Author: sunaddicted Warnings: none Summary: paranoia can be a healthy attitude around some people

As a rule, Q always was rather suspicious of quiet - whether that was a side effect of working in espionage or just his nature, he wasn't particularly sure but he knew better than wasting too much brainpower on such considerations. Besides, a healthy dose of paranoia always paid off if the feeling was carefully kept on a leash. Hand going to grab his taser, Q entered the bedroom and his eyes immediately zeroed in on his lovers "What are you doing?" "Who - us?" James inquired with a shiteating grin, dramatically pointing at his own chest "Man of little faith" Q gestured at Raoul, lounging against the bed post "At least he has the decency to not try to fool me" he pointed out as he relaxed in increments, tension gradually leaving his body as he made his way to the bed to sit at its foot "So?" "What makes you think we are up to anything?" The younger man batted James' hand away from his calf "You always are up to something when you're quiet: it's not like either of you" Raoul's chuckle was satiny and dark - if Q hadn't found it ridiculous to compare a sound to food, his mind would have probably come up with some kind of stupid similitude involving a rich, dark chocolate cake "We aim to please, mi querido" "That awfully sounds like an admission of guilt" "Maybe" Raoul leaned over, finger tapping the point of the other's nose just to see the way it would scrunch up at the bothersome gesture "But who says I feel guilty about any of it?" Taking advantage of Q's distraction, their lover clearly too busy - and failing at - glaring Raoul into properly confessing, James wrapped his hand around his ankle and tugged firmly, a delighted chuckle escaping his lips at the  little shriek Q let out "Let's talk about it later" he murmured, bending down to brush their lips together "There's funnier things to do" "Just tell me the place isn't gonna get swarmed by whatever international agency might be thirsting for our heads" Raoul palmed his cheek, gently turning his head to meet his eyes "I promise" Q sighed, eyes rolling even as he reached for the nape of the other's neck while he sneaked a foot between James' legs "Fine, but don't you think you can postpone this conversation for much longer" "Wouldn't dream of it"

#6

Title: Souvenirs Author: IrishWitch58 Warnings: mild BDSM themes Summary: Bond likes giving Q souvenirs of his travels.

Q examined the box squatting in the center of his desk, a cardboard enigma with a security clearance tag. The shipping label indicated it had originated from Elko, Nevada. Q closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The only agent recently conducting operations in the US was Bond. The joint operation between the CIA and MI6 focused on an information dealer selling military secrets from both Britain and the US. Bond had been pleased to be working with his old friend Felix Leiter. Q had been entertained by Bond and Leiter as the pair entered what Felix had described as a legal brothel.

Bond: “Only in America.” Bond's voice held a hint of astonishment. “All that neon makes my eyes water.”

Leiter: “Ah yes, one stop shopping for a certain type of client.”

Bond: “Felix. They have a gift shop. The souvenirs must be epic.”

Successful, Bond had returned and this had appeared. Q looked at the box reproachfully. Bond and his souvenirs. Being romantically involved with the man had only increased his penchant for gifting Q with odd objects. He carefully slit the tape and opened the flaps, prodding carefully at the packing peanuts. The first item was a six pack of seasonings and sauces intended for American style barbecue. Unusually practical. He resolved to investigate how to use them as he placed the jars on the shelf behind him and dug further. His fingers encountered a narrow object that flexed a bit as he removed it. He flushed with embarrassment although he was alone in the office as he withdrew a riding crop in a rather nice leather finish with the initials MHHP stamped on the handle in gold. He gave it an experimental swing, neatly sending a packing peanut flying. Digging produced a final item. He shook out the tee shirt, and read the logo that explained it all. 'Madame Helga's House of Pain, Barbecue Joint, and Rifle Range' was displayed across the front. The back had an image of an androgynous figure with a bullseye painted on it's pert derrière and the legend, 'We aim to please'. His phone pinged and he checked the text. Bond had sent a video which proved to be a short loop of the neon display at Madame Helga's featuring an animated dominatrix landing a crop in the center of the bullseye. The text accompaniment said, 'Care to provide a target, darling?'

#7

Title: Timing is Everything Author: Iambid (Flantastic) Warnings: None Summary:  James needs a new hobby.

YOU'RE EARLY AGAIN, said the Grim Reaper, with a hint of surprise.

“I am?”  James asked, sounding a lot calmer than he currently felt.

He looked around himself.  He’d been in Saudi Arabia, on the trail of an assassin, when everything had gone to hell. He’d been captured, beaten, tortured and then dumped in the middle of nowhere, somewhere south of Ash Shalfa. The last thing that he remembered was lying broken and bloody in the burning desert, baking under the merciless sun.

Now it appeared he was in a wood-panelled office, not unlike the one that M used.

Except M’s had never had a skeleton dressed in a black robe sitting at its desk.  Well. As far as James knew.

YOU KEEP DOING THIS, Death said, shuffling through the thick paper file in front of him.  Her. It.  Whatever.

“I do?”  James asked, still not entirely sure he knew what was going on.

MMMMM.  AGED TEN, FELL HEAD-FIRST OUT OF A TREE.  AGED TWENTY-ONE.  GOT INTO A FIGHT ON THE HMS ALBION, PUSHED OFF THE FLIGHT-DECK INTO THE ADRIATIC SEA. AGED FORTY-TWO, SHOT OFF A NINETY-EIGHT METRE BRIDGE BY A… Death paused, bringing the page closer to their face. They seemed to squint, which wasn’t bad going for a skull … IT SAYS A ‘FRIEND’.

“That would be Moneypenny.”  James explained.

THERE ARE COUNTLESS INCIDENTS LIKE THIS.  NEED I GO ON?

“I shouldn’t think so.”  James admitted.

COME WITH ME, Death commanded.  They rose, and floated towards the door.  James obediently followed them.  The door opened and on the other side, they found themselves in a hospital room. The occupants didn’t seem to notice.

YOU SEEM TO THINK THAT RESURRECTION IS A HOBBY.  IT ISN’T.  DESPITE YOUR BEST EFFORTS, I SIMPLY CAN’T TAKE WHAT ISN’T MINE YET.

James stepped forward and saw that he was the man in the bed and the man in the chair next to him, the man pressing tearful kisses to the back of his bandaged hand, was Q.

YOU BELONG TO HIM.  HE’S WAITING FOR YOU TO LOVE HIM.  YOU’LL BE MINE ONCE YOU’VE GIVEN HIM A LONG HAPPY LIFE.

James jerked awake, his body suddenly screaming out with a hundred injuries.  He gasped but Q was there, soothing him, calming him.  He squeezed his hand and Q smiled.

“You saved me.”  He croaked.

“Smart blood.  Latest tech. We aim to please.” Q replied.

#8

Title: The Problem With Retirement Author: Venstar Warnings: none Summary: retirement or reunion

The diner was full of quiet little noises this late at night. Silverware clinking, a pen scratching across a booklet of crossword puzzles, tired sighs of the late-night drivers, and in the corner a booth full of a tired family. Where had it all gone wrong?

The snap of chewing gum and their waitress’s voice drew him out of his musings. “Welcome to the Georgia Peach, we aim to please. What can I get you?”

“I’ll have a vodka martini. Shaken, not stirred.”

A long-suffering sigh blew out of the wide mouth that had been until then, pinched tight in annoyance. “Just coffee for him.”

The waitress was a behemoth of a working professional, much like Bond, and simply offered Q a wide smile, showing just a hint of gold at the edges. “And for his lordship?”

Bond answered for him. “Tea. Earl Grey. Hot.”

“Okay, one coffee and hot tea for His Lordship.” She winked at Q and spun on her heel.

Q’s folded his hands under his chin and studied Bond for the minutes it took for their waitress to bring back a carafe of coffee, a mug of hot water on a saucer, and a pathetic excuse for a teabag.

Bond sipped at his coffee as he watched the disgust crawl across Q’s perfect, bony little face. He missed that face.

“Enough. Why am I here and why are you bleeding?”

“Am I bleeding?” Bond reached under his jacket, his fingers came away wet and red. “Huh, thought it was ketchup.”

“You’re supposed to be in the middle of Jamaica. Retired.”

“You could say that. I need your help. Madeline needs your help”

Q stared long and hard at Bond. “You’ve got a lot of nerve. Running off with her, abandoning m...MI6 taking the car-” He broke off his tirade when Bond reached forward and laid his hand on his, blood smearing along the pale skin.

Q’s eyes focused on the blood.

“I never said WE retired together. She’s been a good neighbor, a good friend. That’s all. She still had her secrets. They found her. Whoever THEY are and she needs your help.” Bond curled his fingers under and gripped Q’s hand tightly.

Q made a weak attempt to look away. His eyes stuttered back when Bond’s finger brushed across his wrist and gave an answer Q was not expecting.

“Oh, how I missed you, Q.”

#9

Title: Improvisation Author: AtoTheBean Warnings: None Summary: Turn-about is… unpleasant.

He nurses a scotch and watches the mark, Jason Abernathy, at a table in the corner.  Businessman.  Mid-40s.   On his third round, a group of beautiful people laughing at his jokes.   He’s ignoring the dance floor, despite the urging of the blonde at his table. And he’s noticed Bond watching, but hasn’t approached him. Another agent is on her way as back-up.  Perhaps she’ll be more to his taste. Bond turns the card over in his fingers  “Discreet Escorts: We aim to please!”  It’s not subtle, but it has a certain charm.  If it were just a high-end escort business, he wouldn’t be here.  But if it’s a quasi-legal front for a human trafficking ring...   “007?” R asks. Bond raises his drink to his lips.  “Hmmm?” “Change of plans.” Bond surveys the room, waiting for clarification.   It comes in the form of Q wearing skinny jeans and a tight purple shirt.   Q smiles flirtatiously and moves around Bond so his back is to the mark.  “New intel.  003 won’t be to his taste either.  We had to improvise.” “Improvise?” “Reject me,” Q whispers.  “Loudly.” Bond glances at the mark and sees his gaze fixed on Q’s arse. “You’re not what I want,” Bond shouts, pushing Q away.   One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand. “Is there a problem?” Jason asks, sliding in beside Q. Q levels a dazzling smile at him.  “No problem.  My new employer sent me to a potential client, and I’m not what he wants.” “Well, there’s no accounting for taste.  Who’s your employer?” Q hands him a card just like Bond’s. “Oh, I am.  Shall we see how well you take our motto to heart?” Jason leads Q to the dance floor.  Bond is forced to watch them “dance” for ten minutes, until it’s really just grinding and snogging.  They pass him again on the way to the loo, and Bond feels something heavy drop into his pocket. Jason’s phone. Bond moves to the door.  “I have it.” “And the drive?” R asks. “Inserting now.” Within minutes, the data has been retrieved and Q’s bug is installed.  Bond wanders back in the bar, dismayed to see Q is still missing. “He’s fine,” R assures. Bond doesn’t like it.  He heads down the hall to the loo, placing the phone on the seat the mark vacated as he passes.  The door is locked. “Stand down, 007.” He orders another drink and waits.

#10

Title: Echoes Author: Shush_MummyWriting Warnings: None. Summary: Five + One. Bond hearing echoes.

Bond was surprised at how relaxing it was at Q’s parents’ house. It was filled with homely touches, photos of Q and his brothers through the years, plants and knick-knacks on the shelves. There was even a hand stitched frame in the downstairs bathroom that declared “In this house, we aim to please. In this room, you aim too, please!”. It felt like a home.

It was the second fitting for Bond’s latest suit. The tailor was a genius, the way he managed to conceal the gun holster. “Anything else, Mr. Bond?” he asked. “Perhaps a touch longer in the sleeve.” Bond replied. “Of course sir, we aim to please after all.” Bond smiled.

Bond was actually using his office, studying for his upcoming mission. Eve sauntered in, perched on the edge of his desk and asked, “How much do you love me?” dangling an envelope between two manicured fingers. “It depends on what that is.” said Bond, taking it. “Travel documents where I, your best friend, have managed to secure first-class tickets for your Brazil flights.” “Thank you!” said Bond, who detested long hours in cattle class. As Eve strolled out of the office, she tossed over her shoulder “We aim to please!”.

As Bond entered the R&D department, he was met with the sight of Alec, waving a brochure in the direction of Q, who appeared to be ignoring him. “Seriously Q, just have a look at these specifications. It would be an asset. And it looks awesome! Did you see the clever headline for it?” Q grabbed the brochure, exclaiming “That headline alone is reason enough NOT to buy it. What kind of company would market a rifle sight with the motto “We Aim to Please!” Seriously! Now away with you, I have work to do.” and gestured Bond forward.

Q went over each piece of equipment, saving the best for last. “This is simple, press the top three times quickly, jam it into the keyhole and step back.” Bond took it with a look of wonder “Q, you’ve made me an exploding pen!” Q’s blush was adorable as he muttered “We aim to please.”

Bond settled his breathing, sighting on his target. It should have been an impossible shot - the distance, the weather, etc but between his skill and Q's equipment, another minor government official/major crime lord met his fate. "We aim to please." Bond muttered.

#11

Title: Flirting With the Wild Cat Author: scarytheory Warnings: angst Summary: Moneypenny has a secret.

We aim to please.

There are new documents on her desk, and she's feeling sick to her stomach.

Oh yes. We do.

*

They met when she was still a field agent.

“Miss Moneypenny.”

“Miss Galore.”

It would have been a standard honeypot mission if they didn't hate each other instantly. But there was something they needed, so they flirted, got drunk and angrily fucked on the balcony. In the end, Eve got the information and Pussy Galore didn't.

It should have ended there. But sometimes Mallory needed to contact Galore again, and Eve was the best agent for it – even after she became a secretary.

Eve honestly didn't mind; she loved a challenge, and Galore gave her just that. It was always a rush of emotions, it was hatred with a twist, a complicated game – who was better, smarter, wittier. The constant battle for dominance. Which was also a basis for incredible sex.

They started spending more time together, and suddenly they were laughing and talking about their lives. They didn't even need a mission for that – whatever that was. It didn't feel like they were enemies anymore.

Eve should have known better.

She never should have trusted her.

“You betrayed me.”

“And you are surprised, Moneypenny? This is what I do, what we do – me, you, all your agents and all my people. We aim to please, Eve. We were trained for it, we were trained to be horrible people. However, it’s our bosses we’re meant to please first and foremost. We're fucked up and you know it. There is no way you could disobey an order from M and I have my duties as well.”

“I would never use you.”  

Except she already had. But that was before the laughter, before... everything.

“Honestly, did you believe that there was some miraculous happy ending for us? We are the same and yet different; a heroine and a villain. You should be glad it’s ending only in heartbreak and not with death.” She always loved big words and big speeches.

“I hate you, Galore.”

“Oh, but you don't, darling. That's the problem.”

*

And now Eve's sitting at her desk and staring at the documents. 007 got a new job. Eliminate a target who is no longer useful to them.

Yet, there is still time to warn her.

We aim to please. Until we don't.

#12

Title: A Pizza Pie Author: Ksan ( @starrboned-art​ ) Warnings: None Summary: Bond and Q are having a quiet afternoon together.

"James, that is not - stop that!" Q grabbed James' wrist before he could pour the sauce on the pizza dough.

"Q, that's how I’ve always made pizza." James gave his wrist an experimental wiggle, but the boffin was holding tight, eyes daring him to move.

"You need to oil the edges first," Q insisted, waving the brush and splashing oily drops everywhere.

James conceded, if only to not get his dark blue shirt stained.

"As you say, chef." James smirked, setting the hot pan aside. Q gave the dough a quick brush, nodding at James. "Now you can pour the sauce."

"Yes, chef."

"Stop it," Q said with a huff, but James spotted a quirk to his lips as he turned to the counter. A few plates laid ready with sliced vegetables and meats, all waiting to be added to the pizza.

"Just make sure that the champignons won't touch my side of the pizza." James scowled at the innocent white mushrooms.

Q gave him a smirk. "You are very particular about your food."

"I have a very particular taste," James countered with a suggestive smile. Q laughed, turning to put the pizza into the oven. James managed to steal a few sliced cherry tomatoes from Q's pile before he got caught.

"Go get the wine," Q said, "I'll get the glasses."

"So bossy today," James smirked, ruffling Q's curls. He escaped into the sunlit living room before Q could swat at him with a towel.

It was late noon on a Saturday, and for once none of them had any world-dooming emergencies to solve. The cats were basking in the late sun, the curtains swayed slightly as the evening breeze blew through the open windows.

James opened a red shiraz with a pop. With the wine ready on the table, he closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the quiet rustle Q made in the kitchen.

"Double-o agent, falling asleep?" Q's hand snuck around his waist, chin peeking over his shoulder.

"Before dinner?! You know agents, Q - we aim to please," James turned, kissing Q's smile. He had tomato sauce on his cheek, which James licked (to Q's astonished laughter).

"Pleasing will have to wait for later," Q purred, shoving the wine glasses at James. "What should we toast to?"

James swirled his wine, a habit born out of years of fine dining.

"To more sunny afternoons together."

#13

Title: game Author: azure7539 Warnings: canon typical violence

Summary: Hide and seek as usual, but it's interesting all the same. Just another day at work.

-

Nausea roils like a particularly stormy sea in the midst of a hurricane, and all he can hear is the whistling of his own breathing as his throat wheezes around air before it rattles into his ribcage and never truly fills up those burning lungs.

He’s been running for so long, he can no longer feel the screaming in his feet.

The throng of people felt like a good idea at first, a thick crowd celebrating some local holiday, but now every face seems suspicious, every pair of eyes lingering on just a tad too long. The enemies can be anywhere, can be anyone.

Vertigo dips his world as he crashes into a phone booth, thinking, assuming, he’s managed to put decent distance between him and his chasers, spare change clinking as the coins spill from his shaking hands.

Fuck. Fuck, what’s the number again…

Eight, five, three, two—

The line rings. Once. Twice.

“Hello,” a posh voice he’s never heard before picks up, nonchalant and indifferent. “Identification, please.”

“S-SPCTR-6304,” he nearly trips on his own tongue saying the words.

“One moment.” Soft typing filters through, the calmness perforating through the mad chaos in his mind. But adrenaline licks at his heels—he’s finally standing still long enough to feel the way how wracking tremors are seizing up his overtaxed muscles—and he wants to scream and vibrate out of his skin.

His instincts are shouting at him to start running again, to keep at it until he finds a trustworthy point of contact, something more than just another voice on the other side of a line.

But that’s the thing. This ‘voice on the other side of a line’ is one of his last remaining trustworthy points of contact. The rest are just… gone.

Someone shrieks from over where the people have gathered at the end of the alley, and he’s one hair’s breadth away from slamming back into the wall.

His heart is beating too fast.

“Ah, Mr Roswell. Good to hear from you again,” the person says, pleasantly. A pause. “Did you enjoy your final game?”

“What—”

“At MI6, we aim to please, after all,” the voice drops into a low baritone. Dangerous.

Like the monsters of his nightmares culminating into one singular point of existence.

The last thing he sees before life drains from him are twin pools of glacier. As blue and unreachable as the sky above.

___

You wonderful LDWS writers, you! Thank you so much for writing us these!

And thank you, readers, for reading and voting! THANK YOU!

[royalcordelia]

Omg if you're willing can we get some fake dating shirbert?

I got this idea based off of a post that @anneshirleywasmychildhood​ reblogged about a week ago. That’s all I’ll say 😉! Hope you enjoy! (Rated S for smoochin!)

..We Burn Daylight..

It was during seasons of change that Anne was grateful for moments of familiarity. The sound of Marilla’s feet padding along the kitchen floor always brought with it the lingering scent of something fresh to eat. The sunflowers grew so tall out in the garden that they looked like a group of laughing women bathing in the afternoon light. 

The changing of the seasons was dandelion wine - bitter and sweet on the tongue, soothing to the soul when time had passed. Anne supposed she was the only one who knew she was drinking it.

Well, and one other person, who was drinking it along with her.

“Gilbert, you are by far the most punctual young man I’ve ever met,” Marilla’s voice rang from the doorway. “You certainly inherited your father’s good manners.”

Anne, who’d been burying her face into a cluster of Mayflowers on her windowsill, perked her ears at the sound of Gilbert’s name. Anyone directly beneath the room would have heard Anne scurry across the room as nearing the threshold for a race, but she paused the in the doorway collecting herself. She wasn’t sixteen anymore. She couldn’t sprint to the pace of her heart as she used to in the days of her girlish youth. Thus she descended the stairs with all the coolness that an eighteen-year-old should have, hoping her face wouldn’t give her away.

“- and I assure you, Miss Cuthbert, that if you ever need to borrow them again, all you need do is say the word.” Gilbert’s hazel eyes fixed to Anne as she appeared behind Marilla, filling with subtle delight. “Hello Anne.”

“Hello Gil,” replied Anne, matching his polite, cordial tone. He was a much better actor than she was, able to tear his gaze away and resume his conversation as if it hadn’t been interrupted at all. 

“As I said, Miss Cuthbert, that’s what neighbors are for,” he continued. Anne, on the other hand, felt as if her secret was one the edges of her lips, ready to burst out without a moment’s notice. 

“At least let me send Anne to help you carry all those milk jugs home,” Marilla supplied. 

“I can manage,” Gilbert said.

“Oh, I don’t mind!” Anne broke in, perhaps a touch too eagerly. Gilbert’s brow shot up, causing the redhead to grab hold onto herself. “I’m in the mood for a walk up the road, anyhow.”

“Come to think of it, I have been cooped up in the house all day packing for Redmond. Perhaps an afternoon ramble would do me good,” he said.

They walked in near silence, neither knowing quite what to say. Gilbert had two galvanized metal milk cans on his shoulders, Anne with one tucked underneath her arm. She could feel her pulse bumping along the insides of her wrist and underneath her breast, but if Gilbert was thus preoccupied, he didn’t seem it.

Marilla was gone now. Why was he still… 

“Would you like to take the path through the woods and see if any of the leaves have begun to turn yet?” he asked into the quiet air. 

“That sounds nice,” Anne replied, wondering if her precious, beloved secret had only been a dream. 

Then, in a tone that sounded as if he were commenting on the weather, he said, “I think we’re far enough away that she can’t see us from the window.” 

Anne’s mind went fuzzy. 

“Huh?” 

Without response, Gilbert dropped his milk cans in a patch of roadside weeds and sprinted off in the direction off a small clearing at the foot of the valley. He tossed a saucy look over his shoulder, sending chills down to Anne’s toes.

“Gilbert Blythe! What has gotten into you?” she laughed, chucking her own milk can near his. Wading after him through the waist high grass as if they were ocean waves, she followed him with delighted laughter. Yesterday hadn’t been a dream, after all. 

Gilbert paused when they’d sunk out of view of the road, caught Anne’s hand, and pulled her under the shade of a billowing willow tree. He was before her in moments, closing in closer and closer to her until her back was pressed against the textured bark. Biting her lip in delight, Anne took in all the sweet smells of him. The leaking light through the branches lit up his own tiny freckles, trickled across the apples of his cheeks like translucent grains of sand. He lowered his face closer and closer, until all she could see where his lovesick hazel eyes asking silent permission. She nodded, nudging her nose with his to welcome him in. 

He accepted the opportunity eagerly, taking hold of her waist and kissing her with such affection that Anne felt like gold was melting through her. Her hands searched for purchase, clinging to the first thing they could find - his overalls. This only pulled him closer, and he caught himself with a hand on the bark next to her head.

“Pretending is going to be harder than I thought,” Gilbert said, pressing kisses to her cheeks between words. Anne’s stormy eyes turned crystal blue and fell shut at how loved she felt. 

It was all so new. Just yesterday they’d exchanged tender confessions, cleared away years old misunderstandings, and shared their first kiss. But they’d also decided to keep everything a complete secret…For now, at least. I want to keep falling in love with you on our own terms, Anne had said. Without judgement from those Avonlea ladies or our friends, just you and me for as long as we want. Then when the time is right, we’ll court publically and Avonlea can have their say. That sounded like a marvelous idea to Gilbert, who agreed instantly. 

Pretending like there was nothing between them might’ve been hard, but it opened the door for moments of privacy like this. 

Gilbert captured her lips a few more times before pulling back and pressing his forehead to hers. 

“I thought for sure I was going to jump right into your arms the second I saw you,” Anne confessed. 

“Me too, darling, me too!” Gilbert said, running his fingers over the top of her hair. Anne shivered at how wonderful his touch felt, but pushed him back with a gentle hand so that he could look her square in the face. 

“You were such a good actor that I thought everything was just a lingering dream I’d had in the night.” 

“Thankfully, it was not,” Gilbert said tenderly, thumbs grazing over the dimples of her cheeks. “I’m still trying to navigate this new delight.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Gilbert’s smile tilted down toward the ground, but he met her gaze through his timid, long lashes. 

“Only that I’ve been pining after you for so long that I don’t know what to do with myself now that we’re actually together. I’m afraid I’ll frighten you with how much I want to kiss you.” 

Anne, however, was never frightened. She trusted Gilbert beyond even his understanding, and loved him just as much. To prove it, she mustered up the courage to wrap her arms around his shoulders. Gilbert swayed toward her, expression drunk off of his own tender affection. She rose herself to the balls of her feet and let her lips fall onto his. 

This kiss was different than other ones she’d seen it person. It moved with intensity, it made tangible her own desire, and nearly knocked the poor man off his feet. For once, Anne felt like every woman wanted - desired, powerful, cared for. 

“I’m not afraid,” she vowed against his lips. 

When she broke away, Gilbert leaned his face to the underside of her jaw so tentatively, it felt like butterfly wings were brushing against her. 

“Is this okay?” he whispered against her skin. His breath came hot against a sensitive spot on her neck and Anne caught a whimper in her throat.

“Yes,” she breathed. Before his lips landing on her skin, he wove his arms all the way around her waist until she was pressed firmly against him. When he kissed her throat, she tilted her chin up and let out a blissful laugh. “Very okay.” 

Gilbert had barely kissed a woman, let alone in his way. He’d only walked in on Bash kissing Mary like that once several years ago after they first got married, but he found the actual act of his different than he expected. Anne’s skin beneath his lips was soft than silk and smelled like soap. The more she reacted - hands weaving into his hair, sweet sighs leaving her lips - the more he relaxed and let his instincts lead him. 

It felt like he worshipped her for days, finding new spots around her that begged to be kissed. And when it was over, Anne turned him so his back was against the tree and she could return the favor. Return it she did, tasting the hollow of his throat and biting ever so gently into a spot that made him keen to her. After this particular display of affection, she stepped back.

“You probably think me very unladylike,” she murmured. 

Gilbert, who had his eyes closed and head pressed against the tree, looked down at her and shook his head. 

“Not at all, my love,” he exhaled with a forced laugh, trying to regain his balance. “That was devastating and wonderful and I look forward to similar occurrences in the very near future.” 

“But we should probably get those cans back to your house before Marilla wonders where I’ve gone off to.” 

Gilbert groaned and dropped his head onto her shoulder. He took her into his arms, eliciting a tempted sigh from the redhead pressed to his chest.

“Let’s stay like this for a few more minutes,” he suggested.

“Gil,” Anne protested.

“Hours then?” 

“Gil!” 

“Fine,” he lamented, pulling back and taking her hand. “Tomorrow let’s go to the beach before the water gets too cold.”

“I like the sound of that.” 

When they came back to the road and collected the milk cans, they were just in time for the Andrew’s family to drive by. On the surface, they were just friends again, two kindred spirits ambling through the sunset countryside. Gilbert tipped his hat to Mr. Andrews, all traces of his lovesickness gone. But Anne knew when he reached over and gave her hand a squeeze that it hadn’t gone away completely and it never would.

~End~

You never said I couldn’t do reverse fake dating! Let me know how you liked it! ♥ Thanks for the prompt, anon!

[dokidoki-tae]

B 14 and pesci?

B14. “You want chocolate or vanilla?”

Pliers. Rope. A hammer. A saw. Thumbscrew. A bag of Cedrinca Sicilia Hard Candies. 

Pesci had been repeated items religiously since he been given the list of out of the blue. For his mission of the day, he was to purchase the items mentioned for unknown reasons. But putting two-and-two together, Pesci knew it wasn’t good. He shuddered to think the poor schlub who’d act as the guinea pig. 

There was no list to be given, expecting him to memorize and do his job without being told twice. Still a greenhorn, Pesci nervously had to ask Prosciutto what exactly he needed to get. Prosciutto gritted his teeth and stressed each word slowly. At least they trust me to go alone, Pesci thought positively. 

As he was purchasing, the cashier was giving him strange looks, eyes darting from the items to Pesci, keeping their thoughts to themselves. Even as Pesci walked back to base, he continued to mutter the list combining it with a hum and beat of his own. 

It’s not like he didn’t want to go back to base, but he was in no hurry to return just to get mocked by Melone and Illuso and yelled at by Ghiaccio and Prosciutto. Standing in the hot Italian sun beat being berated yet another day. On his walk back, Pesci stopped and sat down on a park bench shaded under a large tree where he used the shade from the leaves as shelter from the sun. 

He sat back, resting his eyes as he let the cool air cool his body, even with its dryness, the air hitting his burning sweaty body felt fresh. In the distance, Pesci could hear the laughter of children, seemingly unaffected by the summer heat. He envied their carefree nature, craving what they have for a brief second. 

“BOO!”

Pesci’s eyes shot open and yelped, jumping from his seat dropping the bag that was placed on his laps. All items scattering across the ground. The obnoxious cackling revealed who the voiced belong to.

Doubled over in laughter, Formaggio held his stomach with one hand and pointed at Pesci with the other. Pesci could hear Formaggio make attempts to form words but nothing understandable made its way out.

Grumbling, Pesci kneeled and picked up the dropped items and was quickly helped by Formaggio with a smile. The pout on Pesci’s face faded after a few minutes influenced by the goodnatured aura Formaggio always seemed to emit.

“Sorry about that, Pesc,” Formaggio apologized with a grin, roughly patted his shoulder. For a man of his size, Formaggio was surprisingly strong; Pesci still remembered when the Little Feet user was basically carrying Capo and Prosciutto back from the bar. “I found it hard to resist.” He choked back a laugh and it was enough to get Pesci laughing too.

Having run into Formaggio was pleasant, walking back to base together allowed them to get to know each other. Formaggio had offered to carry the items, but Pesci insisted he should as he was assigned this mission. Again, Formaggio laughs and shrugged his shoulder, leaving the issue alone. Pesci was rarely on a mission with anyone other than Prosciutto who was training him. He wondered what it would be liked to be trained by someone like Formaggio, dreaming about not being yelled at and insulted periodically. He cared about his aniki, but sometimes he could be too harsh. 

Lost in his thoughts, Pesci didn’t realize Formaggio had stopped at a gelato vendor. He jogged back as Formaggio was deciding on a flavor. 

“What flavor do you want” Formaggio tapped his chin, a habit he did when he was deciding on what to order, Pesci noted. Having a gelato to go with the heat didn’t sound half bad, but Prosciutto had made it clear things like drinking milk and eating gelato wasn’t the image they wanted to make for themselves.

“A-aniki said guys like us shouldn’t be eating gelato,” Pesci murmured. With the roll of his eyes and click of his tongue, Formaggio pulled out his wallet and proceeded to order his favorite gelato flavor.

“Prosciutto is full of shit. He says that shit but doesn’t follow it.” Formaggio revealed. Clearly, it was a surprise to Pesci, not fully believing Prosciutto would tell him lies. “I’ve seen him sneak a couple of bites from Ghiaccio’s ice cream in the middle of the night.” Pesci jaw dropped and felt a rumble in his throat as a laugh made it’s way out. The thought Prosciutto sneaking into the kitchen broke Pesci’s composure and Formaggio joining him didn’t help to suppress his laugh.

“This kind of stuff isn’t that big of a deal,” Formaggio placed a comforting hand on his back, helping Pesci to develop some trust in the smaller man and in his own wants. 

“I like chocolate and vanilla...” Pesci smiled at Formaggio who gave him some reassuring pats. 

“So, you want chocolate or vanilla? Both?” 

“Both.”

Formaggio offered to pay for their gelato, and Pesci didn’t fight him on it. The rest of the walk home was pleasant, talking about Pesci’s “mission” to buy the items, prompting Formaggio to make dark jokes about their uses. The chocolate and vanilla swirl satisfied Pesci’s craving and let Formaggio take a few licks and he offered Pesci his pistachio gelato. Pesci was still getting used to the team’s ruthlessness towards others, but he slowly began to see the ways they went out for and cared for each other.

“Thank you for the gelato, Formaggio.”

[tenroseforeverandever]

Wonderful Tonight - Chapter 1

Characters: Tentoo; Rose Tyler; Jackie Tyler; Pete Tyler; Original Character, Wilkins from Vitex Patents

Tags: hurt/comfort; angst; romance; fluff; love; Pete’s World; sexual content; drunkenness; drunken confessions; swearing; songfic

Story Summary:

On the first anniversary of the instantaneous biological metacrisis that created him, the same day he and Rose had been unceremoniously dumped in Pete’s World, the Doctor can think of a few gazillion different ways he would prefer to spend the evening, and the Annual Vitex Gala is not one of them. All he truly wants is to spend a quiet, intimate evening at home alone with Rose. But when Rose doesn’t acknowledge the significance of the date, the Doctor finds the strain and rejection he has worked so hard to overcome surfacing again, leaving him feeling vulnerable and insecure.

A song fic, based on the song Wonderful Tonight, by Eric Clapton.

Notes:

This story has been in the works since Christmas and was intended to be finished by Tentoosday in February. LOLOLOLOL So, right on schedule for me, then!

Written for @doctorroseprompts‘s Tentoosday event.

Many thanks to my brilliant betas mrsbertucci and @rose--nebula​ who have taken the time out of their very busy schedules to look this story over for me.

Four Chapters, posting on Wednesdays

Read also at: AO3; Teaspoon; FF

Summary, Chapter 1:

Feeling out of sorts on the first anniversary of being left in Pete’s world with Rose, the Doctor is worried Jackie will blame him if they show up late to the Annual Vitex Gala, and frustrated that Rose isn’t ready to leave when he is.

--oOo--

It's late in the evening; she's wondering what clothes to wear

She puts on her make-up and brushes her long blonde hair

And then she asks me, “Do I look all right?”

And I say, "Yes, you look wonderful tonight.”

The Doctor stood in the front hall of the little flat, peering at his reflection in the full-length mirror. He ran a tongue over his teeth, and tilting his head from side to side, critically assessed the controlled chaos that was his hair. Giving his fringe a final tweak, he stepped back and swivelled back and forth, his lip curling at the sight of the tuxedo. Well, at least his feet would be comfortable in the black and white Chucks he’d procured specifically for the occasion. After the last party Jackie had hosted, his feet had been aching for days, blistered and cramped by the uncomfortable leather dress shoes she’d insisted he wear.

Nope! Never again!

And especially not tonight of all nights. The day of his… weeeell, his first-ish birthday, he supposed, give or take the millennium’s worth of knowledge packed into his brain. He could think of a few gazillion different ways he would have preferred to spend this evening, and the Annual Vitex Gala was not one of them. The only thing that could possibly make it tolerable was the fact that he would be attending said gala with one Rose Tyler by his side.

One Rose Tyler who was distinctly not in the front hall, ready to go…

“Roooo-ooose! We’re going to be late!” He sent a little burst of annoyance along their bond.

He was usually the one who kept her waiting, primping his hair to untamed perfection. It was her own fault, really. Afterall, it was she who’d found a jar of Pompogix’s Hair Pomade (precisely as brilliant as the stuff he used to use in the Prime Universe). He could hardly be blamed for wanting to make good use of it. You couldn’t rush perfection.

Except in Rose’s case… she always looked perfect. Therefore, he reckoned, logically, there was no reason for her not to be ready to go.

He shuffled from foot to foot as he peered down the hallway to the bedroom. “C’mon, Rose! You know who Jackie’ll blame if we’re late. Me! I’m still recovering from the slap she gave me two bodies ago. I don’t fancy another one, ta!”

Rose’s head popped out from the bedroom doorway, a towel still wrapped around her hair, and her face devoid of make-up. Utterly gorgeous, but definitely not even remotely close to being ready for the gala.

“Blimey, the paps’ll have a field day with shots of you in that get-up.”

“Yeah, ta for that.” Her frosty reply was accompanied by the equivalent of a growl vibrating a warning in his mind and a dangerous little crease forming over the bridge of her nose. She grumbled as she disappeared back into the bedroom, but a few seconds later she called out, “Doctor! I need your help! Can you c’m’ere?”

She seemed a little flustered (as well she should, given the time). He couldn’t imagine how he was supposed to help. Nevertheless, he followed the sound of her voice into the bedroom and found her dressed only in knickers, sheer thigh-high stockings, and the towel on her head, poring over three gowns spread out on the bed before her. The sight of her topless might have been more enticing if he hadn’t been so frustrated.

“I can’t decide which dress to wear.”

“What the hell does it matter? You’ll look beautiful no matter what. Wear a bin bag if you like. Just pick something and let’s get a move on, before Jackie has my head for the centrepiece on the buffet.”

She huffed. “So glad I have you, then!”

“Oh, all right,” he relented, quite sure nothing good would come of him offering his opinion. He looked carefully at the three options, considering the pros and cons of each. “Wear the green one. It’s a festive colour and it’s sparkly. I quite like sparkly.”

“The green one? Really? Do you think so?” Rose screwed up her face, her nose wrinkling in distaste. “I kinda thought the sparkles were a bit naff, to be honest.”

“I knew it!” he growled through gritted teeth. He arched a judgmental eyebrow. “Why did you bother asking me my opinion? Is it some kind of test? A trap? A psychological experiment, perhaps? Hmmm?”

“Blimey, Doctor! Overreacting a bit, yeah?” Rose averted her eyes from him, glancing over the dresses again.

“Nope! I think you’ll find my response was perfectly calibrated to serve the situation at hand. You asked me for my input – which I gave quite willingly – and then, without a second’s consideration, you rejected my opinion out of hand. How am I supposed to react to that?”

Her hands flew to her waist as she turned to face him, a fierce, wolfish spark in her eyes. Her bare breasts jiggled temptingly, and suddenly any frustration was pushed to the back of his mind and he found himself forced to tamp down his body’s responses. Now was not the time for that sort of distraction.

“Oi! Eyes up here!” she snapped with a sharp tweak of their bond. (So, definitely not the time…)

His irritation wriggled back to the forefront, and with his libido conquered, he was able to retrace his earlier train of thought. “It wouldn’t matter what dress I’d selected; you’d have had some excuse not to choose it.” Oh, it felt quite satisfying to get another dig in.

“That’s not true.” Hurt transformed Rose’s face, and she placed a soft hand on his arm. Her love and sadness flooded through him. “I value your opinion, Doctor. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

As her lovely, soft, kissable lower lip wobbled, guilt gushed through him. He sighed. Despite his better judgement, he found himself spouting out more words of gala-gown wisdom. “How about the black one, eh, Rose? Classic! You can never go wrong with a black dress for a formal occasion.”

“Hmmmm… but black’s so dull. I mean it’s a beautiful dress, but it’s nearly Christmas, yeah?”

The Doctor gaped at her in stunned silence for a few charged ticks, then he threw his hands in the air. “I give up! I can’t win! Tell you what: I’ll be waiting in the lounge, planning my funeral. Jackie can throw another party to celebrate the occasion, and you’ll be able to wear the black dress to that.” He stalked away, ignoring Rose’s incoherent squeaks of outrage.

He needed to calm down. He was on edge and was letting little things get to him. He muffled his telepathic connection with Rose. Bombarding one another with negative emotions would be nothing but hurtful.  All he had truly wanted was to spend a quiet, intimate evening at home alone with her. This day held special significance for him.

That fact, in and of itself, came as a shock.

Never before had he bothered to observe the linear progression of his life; he’d never given it any thought. Even though he knew time progressed in a distinctly non-linear, wibbly-wobbly fashion, he had to face the fact that his time would now have a distinct end; there would be no more cheating death. Observing the passing years, taking time to reflect on the successes and challenges of the past and his aspirations for the future, had suddenly become something of the utmost importance. He wanted to celebrate the love he and Rose shared and how hard they had both worked over the past year to overcome the strain and rejection of being unceremoniously dumped in Pete’s World.

Instead, he once again felt redundant, useless… vulnerable, the unsettling image of Rose walking away from him at Bad Wolf Bay, rejecting him as he tried to win her favour, playing on auto-repeat in his mind.

The last thing he wanted to do was parade around at the Vitex Gala, hobnobbing and exchanging vapid small talk with vacuous socialites and tedious politicians.

He wandered into the kitchen. A nice cuppa was what he needed. The brilliant effects of the superheated infusion of free-radicals and tannins never failed to soothe him. A good, stiff drink would have been marvelous as well, but he’d learned the hard way, this new, more-human body was not very good at regulating the effects of excessive alcohol consumption. He’d be drinking plenty at the gala, later (if they ever got there); he needed to be careful not to overdo it. No, for the time being, tea would be just perfect.

He filled Rose’s mug as well, adding the perfect amount of milk (just a splash) and honey (a little, to cut the bitterness). She had her own demons to face on this particular day. Although… come to think of it, she hadn’t mentioned it, either the day – his birthday (that hurt a bit), or the demons – being abandoned by the other Doctor and, in turn, abandoning… him, the metacrisis (at least, initially). There were more closed doors in her mind than normal, but she hadn’t even given any overt hints of any anxiety through their bond. But even if she wasn’t worried, he still thought she would probably appreciate the gesture of the warm comforting beverage and it would give him a chance to apologize for his “overreacting”, however justified it might have been.

He returned to the bedroom and leaned against the doorjamb, mugs in hand, silently watching Rose as she sat at her little vanity, still in a semi-dressed state (although her hair was loose and dry now), carefully applying the finishing touches to her make-up. Analysing her reflection, she dabbed stray traces of crimson lipstick from the corners of her voluptuous mouth, then smoothed the concealer under her eyes. With a heavy sigh, she picked up her hairbrush, and pulled it through the soft tangles of her long, blonde hair. She’d allowed it to grow over the past year and it now reached almost halfway down her back. The doctor loved the silken feel of it between his fingers, loved the way it tumbled around his face when she rode him to their mutual bliss.

And, oh, that train of thought was no more helpful now than it had been earlier, but unable to resist the temptation, he stepped forward into the room. “Here, let me.” He took a gulp from his mug before setting both mugs on the vanity. He plucked the brush from Rose’s hand.  “Have a cuppa,” he offered as he gathered her hair in his hands and brushed out the ends at the back where she couldn’t reach.

“Oh, a cuppa would go down a treat. But I can’t. Just put on my lippie, yeah.”

Rebuffed again, he held his tongue. Rose hadn’t meant to be hurtful, but it seemed he just couldn’t do anything right. Although, it wasn’t like he was doing anything especially wrong... just a bit off-target, perhaps. He decided there wasn’t anything to be gained by making a fuss, but he didn’t trust his stupid gob to behave. It would be safer to just leave her to her grooming. He set the brush down firmly on the vanity and, pointedly removing her tea mug, moved toward the door.

“Doctor…?”

He turned back toward her, helpless to resist the sway she held over him. She’d always been his weakness… and his strength. She completed him.

“I was hopin’ you could braid my hair for me...”

“No doubt I could…” He arched an eyebrow at her.

“Would you? Please? Somethin’ nice and soft. You always make it look nice, yeah.”

“Will you hurry and get dressed if I do?”

“Oh, we’re not that late!”

He set her mug down again. “Not your life on the line, is it?” he snarked, but he was unable to keep a small smile from tugging at his lips.

As he gathered her hair in his hands, parting it with expert strokes of his fingers, she sighed her contentment and met his eyes in the mirror. “I’m sorry, Doctor. I love you,” she whispered.

He opened their bond, allowing his love to mingle with hers. “My precious girl, I love you too… but I’d like to be around for many more years to repeat that sentiment.” He granted her a teasing frown, and she responded with a cheeky kiss blown at his reflection. When he rolled his eyes, she chuckled and beamed at him, her tongue peeking out at the corner of her smile.

In minutes he had completed styling her hair, a long, soft braid that meandered down the back of her head. “It just needs… Oh, I know! You get your dress on, and I’ll be back with the finishing touches in two shakes.”

Leaving a bemused Rose in his wake, he rushed out of the bedroom to the kitchen. He had purchased a dozen red roses, intending to present them to her before leaving the flat that evening, but decided they would be put to much better use tucked into her golden plaits. He scrounged in the drawers for the kitchen shears and snipped several of the roses from their stems. He tucked one into the lapel of his jacket (he and Rose would coordinate) and gathered the rest of them up.

When he returned to the bedroom, he was stopped short (nearly spilling the roses from the cradle of his hands) at the sight before him: Rose, resplendent in a deep-red, satin gown. He licked his lips at the sight of her: the v-neck, off-the-shoulder bodice displayed just enough of the soft, round curves of her breasts; and the flowing, floor-length skirt sported a thigh-high slit that exposed the full length of a tawny, toned leg. She was absolutely captivating.

Shaking himself out of his daze, the Doctor swept behind her, beginning his task of nestling the flowers into her tresses. He couldn’t resist planting soft kisses to her bare shoulders and neck as he worked, and she encouraged him with soft hums, as each touch of his lips sent a surge of his arousal along their bond. With one last rose tucked into her braids, he placed a final kiss behind her ear and reluctantly pulled away from her.

“All done. Are you ready, then?”

“Almost…” She stepped back to the vanity and picked up the earrings lying there. She turned to him as she set them in her ears, her dress swirling around her. And then she asked him, “Do I look all right?”

“All right?” No words could properly express the vision of loveliness before him; he stammered, trying to find the right way to describe how she affected him, how in awe of her he was. What eventually came out of his stupid gob was the understatement of the year. He only hoped he had projected enough emotion along with his words for her to understand what he had really meant… “My darling, you look wonderful, tonight.”

[javocjovian]

Wet Dreams May Cum, Debriel Creations Challenge Monthly Challenge Fic

Title: Wet Dreams May Cum Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17444402/chapters/42226679 February Theme: First Times My Prompt: Sleep/Sleeping Ship: Debriel (Dean/Gabriel, Dean/Gabriel/Dream-Gabriel) Rating: E!!! Tags: Somnophilia, masturbation, wet dreams, embarrassment, first time anal (Dean), hand jobs, prostate milking, wings, consensual, mild pain enjoyment, grace sex, grace bondage, induced sleep, bondage via induced sleep, soul fucking, dream control, dream sex, mind-reading, time-loop Summary: Dean has a wet dream about Gabriel, and Gabriel decides to turn it into reality. Word Count: 4209

Created for @debrielcc Beta-ed by: @felix-the-white-wolf​ Special shout to: @mrswhozeewhatsis​ 

Quote:

At least Dean had learned one thing from failing to summoning Gabriel – he wasn’t magically attached to Dean as he feared. After all, the mere thought of him hadn’t caused the earth to crack and suck Dean down into Gabriel’s zebra printed, lava lamp filled sex dungeon. Whether that was good or bad, Dean didn’t know. What he did know was, it was probably safe to masturbate.

gifs made by meee

Wet Dreams May Cum

Dean’s motel room was dark. The rain streaked window flashed behind closed blinds, followed by a distant rumble. Dean was sprawled out on the bed, half naked and twisted up in the comforter. It had been three days since he and Sam started a hunt, during which time neither of them slept. The first thing Sam did when they finished was get himself his own room. Dean snored when he was sleep deprived and he was too tired to argue. His head hit the pillow and he was asleep not three seconds later, snoring loudly. But after a while, the snoring stopped. His breathing deepened and he shifted dreamily under the sheets. A brief flash of dim light illuminated the lines of his bare neck and back, rising and falling slowly as he lay belly down, his face nestled in the crook of his arm. His eyes darted under his lids.

Trapped somewhere between waking and dreaming, Dean groaned softly into his arm. The rain was so relaxing, and Dean was so very comfortable, and yet, he began to move. He rubbed his hips into the mattress below him, sighing gently. He was having a very good dream.

Dean pushed his nose into the pillows and slowly, sensually, dry humped the bed through his pajamas pants. He moaned quietly, his expression open and pure with pleasure while he slept. His lips began to move, forming one word over and over again. He absentmindedly reached out and felt for an unused pillow. He grabbed it and dragged it down to his hips. When his body pushed into it, his expression rounded in relief. That was what he needed. He dry humped the pillow while he slept, until the word finally tumbled off his lips…

“Gabriel...”

POOF

Blue orbs glowed at the foot of Dean’s bed and Dean awoke instantly.

“Whozeewhatsisthere?” He snorted. In less time than it took Gabriel to appear, Dean was sitting up with the pillow on his lap, pointing a gun at his midnight visitor.

“Woah, woah, easy tiger...”

Dean turned the light on. He had bags under his eyes and his hair was a mess.

Gabriel pointed, mischievous face was smirking at him. “Hey there, cowboy.” He rose a brow at the pillow.

“God damnit.” Dean rubbed his face with one hand and put the gun down. “Are you crazy? I could have shot you!”

Gabriel’s smirk widened. “Yeah you could’ve.”

Dean glared at him, but a yawn betrayed him. “A...aren’t you supposed to be dead? Again?”

“Yeah… that story is so not as interesting as whatever it was you were dreaming about.” He teased.

Dean glared harder than ever. “Get out.”

“Aw, c’mon, Dean-o.”

“Why are you even here? Where you just watching me while I slept?”

“You prayed for me.”

“No, I…!” Dean’s face fell. He looked simultaneously mortified and furious.

Gabriel’s eyes twinkled. “You…” He stalked towards the side of the bed. “...prayed for me.”

“I have a gun.” Dean stated.

Gabriel sighed. He looked a kid who was just denied dessert. “Fine! I’ll just take these talented hands elsewhere...” He gave Dean a playful look.

“Okay, but wait… how are you…?”

POOF

“...alive.” Dean blinked.

Gabriel was gone.

Dean threw the pillow in frustration and got up, grumbling about dead archangels cockblocking his own dick. He wasn’t sleeping now. He took the coldest, angriest shower, got dressed, then went and woke Sam up.

“Come on, sleeping beauty! Let’s go! You can sleep in the car.” He pounded on the door. At least Sam’s anger would distract Dean from his own.

Sure enough, Sam was pissed at him the whole car ride home, even though he slept through most of it. When Sam woke a few miles from the bunker, Dean decided it would be best to tell him that Gabriel was alive, if only to avoid him finding out later and getting even angrier.

“He what?”

“He just… showed up. So I figured we should get out of there.”

“Yeah, but… Dean. He’s supposed to be dead!”

“I know that, Sam.”

“So then, what? He came by just to say hi? What did he want?”

Dean shrugged.

Sam clearly didn’t believe him, but they were at the bunker before he could argue it further.

 Dean didn’t think about the incident, or masturbate, for nearly a week. But whenever he had a moment to himself, he found his mind drifting back to that dream. It had been a very good one. Gabriel was behind him and Dean was sprawled out on the bed, his hips raised and captured by Gabriel’s warm hands. Gabriel must have been using his grace or something, because it felt like he was making love to his very soul. Dean’s every molecule was exploding with white hot pleasure. It was unlike anything he had ever felt. It melted his brain and made his whole body tremble in ecstasy. The point of entry was the best. Gabriel’s cock curved into him, pulling him under waves and waves of satisfaction. Dean recalled with a rush of embarrassment how he’d lifted his own ass in need and curled his fists into the sheets, groaning Gabriel’s name...

Sam woke him from his daydream, and he nearly fell out of his seat at the Men of Letters table.

“You need sleep.” Sam said.

“Shaddup and make me some coffee, will you?”

It was like being haunted by Freddy Kruger's porn star twin.

Sam needed the library to study, so Dean offered to help. He ignored Sam’s look of skepticism and pulled some books across the table to him. Anything to take his mind off that dream. But hours later, neither Sam nor Dean could figure out a sigil they’d seen on their hunt.

“Maybe it’s Aramaic.” Sam sighed.

Dean had brought the coffee pot right to the table and was pouring himself another cup.

“Dude. You’re going to give yourself a heart attack.” Sam stared at him in disbelief, then looked back at a book on angels. “The closest thing I’ve found is in this book. It says this language was used by gods. We could try calling Cas.”

“He hasn’t answered his phone in days, but if you want to try then be my guest.”

Sam huffed. “Why don’t you pray for Gabriel then?”

Dean went pale. “W...why would you say that?”

“I don’t know, maybe because he visited you out of nowhere and you’re still not telling me why?” He suggested coolly.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He set his cup down and cleared his throat. “Gabriel, oh Gabriel, wherefore art thou, you feathered dick?”

Sam laughed.

“We need your divine wisdom. Grace us with your unending innuendos.” Dean finished dramatically.

They both looked around despite themselves, but nothing happened.

“See?” Dean swiped the pot off the table and went to make more coffee. “Your turn.”

Sam sighed and pulled out his phone.

 Dean wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he was disappointed nonetheless. It made him feel dirty. And not in the good way. Or was it? He finally gave up trying to help Sam and went to his room to take a nap.

“Yeah, just drink two pots of coffee and then go sleep.” Sam commented.

Dean proceeded to lay wide awake in his dark room for ten minutes, silently cursing Sam. At least he’d learned one thing from failing to summoning Gabriel – he wasn’t magically attached to Dean as he feared. After all, the mere thought of him hadn’t caused the earth to crack and suck Dean down into Gabriel’s zebra printed, lava lamp filled sex dungeon. Whether that was good or bad, Dean didn’t know. What he did know was, it was probably safe to masturbate. Thank god. No, that made him feel dirty, too.

Dean undid his pants and lay down on his bed. He had a stash of magazines, but he didn’t need them. He’d been pent up since that dream. Like hitting play on a movie, he was brought back to it: Gabriel’s hands on his hips, his breath on the back of his neck, the tantalizing caress of his feathers as he thrust endlessly into Dean’s aching, electrified body... Dean wrapped a calloused hand around his cock and stroked.

Soon his head was resting against the headboard and his lips were parted in silent pleasure as he fondled all his favorite spots. He squeezed around his base and twisted up, rubbing his thumb under his head. He worked up a good amount of precum and lubed himself up with it. His breathing became audible as he pumped himself closer and closer to orgasm. He could almost feel that dream – Gabriel’s cock was spreading him wide, filling him deep, stroking him from the inside so divinely. Gabriel’s hands smoothed around Dean’s hips and began stroking his cock for him. Dean moaned. Gabriel’s fingertips were too perfect. They made Dean writhe and buck back onto Gabriel’s cock even as it pinned him to the bed. Within seconds Dean was close to coming. He thrust his hips into his hand, gritting his teeth.

“Gabe… Gabriel.” He groaned.

POOF

Dean swore loudly.

Gabriel snapped the lights on and caught Dean aiming a shotgun at him with his pants around his thighs. He was flushed, breathless, and very erect.

“Oh... naughty boy.” Gabriel’s eyes twinkled.

“I prayed for you twenty minutes ago!” Dean shouted.

“Well obviously you didn’t pray right.” Gabriel bit back a smile.

Dean glared at him. He dropped a hand to the blankets and tried to cover himself with them, but the bed was made tight.

Gabriel watched happily as Dean struggled to pull his pants up over his erection with one hand.

“Dean… I’m an Archangel. I don’t care what you look like out here.” He spun his finger around at him. “Although, I must say… impressive.” He winked at him.

Dean frowned and gave up. “You… are a dick!”

“Interesting choice of words...”

“A seriously… fucked up… asshole...”

“Oh my...”

“Shut up!”

Gabriel bit back a little laugh, and it drove Dean crazy. He glared at him dangerously, his mind racing.

“Comebacks aren’t really your forte are they? Speaking of comebacks...”

“Alright you know what? Get in here or shut up.”

Gabriel’s expression fell. “What?” His brow twitched. “Seriously?”

Dean stared in resignation. “Yeah, seriously. You in or out?”

Gabriel’s face lit up deviously. “Oh I’m in. I’m so in.”

Dean swallowed.

Gabriel stalked over to Dean’s side and, before Dean could overthink it, Gabriel undressed him with a snap of his fingers and pushed him back onto the bed. Dean hit the bed with a gasp. Gabriel grinned and lowered his lips to Dean’s chest. Dean lay his head back and shut his eyes stubbornly, taking steady breaths. Until he felt Gabriel’s hand wrap around his cock. Dean groaned.

“Oh, so responsive.” Gabriel purred.

Dean grunted irritably, but the sound was sucked out of him when Gabriel bit his nipple. Dean’s breath hitched. “Just hurry up.” He said gruffly. In reality, he could’ve laid there all night with Gabriel stroking him. His hands were perfect. Gabriel squeezed around his base and twisted up, rubbing his thumb under his head, making Dean curse and leak precum on his fingers. It was so good. Too good….

Gabriel watched Dean connect the dots in his head and smiled victoriously.

“You were watching me?”

“Bingo.” Gabriel smirked, then flicked his nipple with his tongue and rubbed Dean’s glans with his thumb.

Dean fell back, mouth agape. “...You pervert.”

“Oh yeah, talk dirty to me.” Gabriel snapped again, disrobing himself, then hoisted Dean into the middle of the bed.

Even though Dean knew he was an Archangel, his strength in that situation surprised Dean. He made an embarrassing little noise, but Gabriel gratefully ignored it. He kept toying with his nipples and stroking him, making Dean lose it his piece by piece.

“Fuck, Gabriel…”

Gabriel smiled. “Tell me about you dream.”

Dean swallowed. “You uh… we were in bed. And you were behind me. F...” Dean couldn’t say it. Partly because it was humiliating, but partly because Gabriel was pinching his nipple and making Dean squirm. They were way more sensitive than usual. “F...fucking me.”

“Uh-huh...” He flicked him with his tongue, getting pleasure out of seeing Dean squirm.

“Fuck.”

“You said that already.”

“I am going to kill you.”

“Oh baby...” Gabriel teased. He let Dean’s cock drop and rose a glistening a hand in the air. With a third snap of his fingers, Dean was on his belly on the bed with Gabriel between his legs.

Dean gasped. “Sh...shit don’t do that!”

“Oh you love it, Dean-o.” Gabriel goaded him. “Why don’t you show me that dream of yours? Might make this easier...”

Dean wore. He was loving this, even if it was seriously fucked up. Dean felt a brief but powerful rush of sympathy for Sam regarding Ruby. This was… hot. He looked over his shoulder at him. “You can do that?”

“Duh.” Gabriel gave him a look.

Dean nodded slowly. “Okay… sure. Go for it.” Dean didn’t really know what he was agreeing to, but he realized something when Gabriel put a finger to his forehead. “Wait!”

“What?”

“Don’t possess me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He winked.

Dean felt himself relax a little. Gabriel was a pervert, but at least he was on their side. Right? Dean held his breath as Gabriel touched his forehead.

Immediately, Dean was back in his dream. He was belly down on that motel bed with the rain and thunder in the background, and he couldn’t move. He looked around wildly and saw Gabriel behind him. No, he was inside of him. Dean groaned and dropped his head on the mattress.

“Gabe… Gabriel!” He called out to him.

“Right here, Dean.” Gabriel breathed in his ear. Everything was the same, even Gabriel’s gigantic wings that were taking up half the room. Except Gabriel didn’t speak in his dream. This was the real Gabriel. “You just tell me if you want to stop. Got it?” He said.

Dean nodded weakly. “Holy… fuck.”

Gabriel smirked. “Bingo.”

Gabriel thrust deep, so deep that it could only happen in a dream, and Dean melted in ecstasy, moaning.

“Oh…” Gabriel purred. “So good, Dean. Atta boy.” He smiled, beginning to fuck him nice and slow. “I’m going to fuck you in here, and then I’m going to fuck you out there? Got it?”

Dean couldn’t move his head, so he gave him a silent thumbs up. Gabriel chuckled, rocking Dean’s body gently. Dean could vaguely feel himself back in the bunker with the real Gabriel. His body there was melting with pleasure, too. He could feel Gabriel’s fingers inside him, yet he was here with dream Gabriel’s cock inside him.

“Fuck, Gabe. This is… fucked up.”

“Oh, I know.” Gabriel smirked. “But you love it.”

Dean smiled breathlessly.

Gabriel wiped the smile off his face with a long, deep thrust. Dean had barely caught his breath before Gabriel was pulling back and doing it again. Dean groaned in earnest. The sound was music to Gabriel’s ears. He picked up the pace, making Dean writhe.

Dean grabbed the sheets to ground himself as Gabriel fucked his brains into outer space. His cock filled him unbelievably well, stirring all the pleasure spots Dean never knew he had. He was so thick and wet, and he glided right into Dean like he was made for this. Dean’s whole body felt electrified. Gabriel put his hands on Dean’s hips and Dean lifted his butt up for him.

“So good, Dean. I’m giving you a reward for that.” Gabriel purred.

Dean felt fingers reaching in and stroking a spot in him that made Dean feel like he was coming. Dean gasped and clenched down, but those muscles weren’t working for some reason. He couldn’t move them awake or asleep. Gabriel was milking his prostate in the bunker and fucking him here, all at the same time, and it made Dean short circuit, gasping and shaking uncontrollably.

“Good, isn’t it?” Gabriel grinned, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “You’re soaking the bed.” He told him. He sounded absolutely thrilled. “Oh, you’re definitely my favorite. I always knew you would be. So responsive, so pent up, I’m going to unwind you all night long.” He promised.

Dean groaned shamelessly. He could feel Gabriel’s fingers move and focus elsewhere back at the bunker, giving Dean a brief reprieve from the paralyzing pleasure. He sputtered and gasped. “Fuck Gabriel! Oh my god.”

Gabriel smirked.

Dean wasn’t even mad. “You gotta… you gotta do that again.”

“You got it, kiddo.” He found Dean’s sweet spot with his cock and stroked it hard. It wasn’t as intense, but it was enough to get Dean trembling again.

“Oh...yeah… right there.” Dean gritted his teeth.

Gabriel worked his hips expertly, giving Dean all the stroking, rubbing stimulation while still fucking him deep. It felt like he was making love to his very soul. Dean realized he probably was, and wanted to laugh. But he couldn’t. It felt like his nerves were exploding with white hot pleasure, making his whole body throb in ecstasy. Gabriel’s cock curved into him, soaking him in wave after wave of familiar yet entirely new satisfaction. It felt like it went on for hours.

“You ever done this before, Dean-o?”

Dean shook his head hastily. “No...no way.”

“Really?” Gabriel asked, enjoying his honestly. “A stud like you? Oh, I feel so lucky...” He gave Dean a long thrust, earning a shuddering moan from him. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it for you. I’ll ruin you for every other man, angel and demon.”

“Lucky me...” He smiled breathlessly.

Dean was grateful Gabriel wasn’t treating him like a virgin. As a pleasurable and downright kinky as it was being dominated like this, he still had his pride. Gabriel seemed to sense this, and he picked up the pace, taking Dean’s mind off it. Dean cursed and pressed his nose into the pillow.

Gabriel’s cock was spreading him so wide, filling him so deep; it didn’t seem possible to feel this good. Even the way Gabriel’s skin brushed against Dean’s stretched hole at the end of each stroke felt incredible. Then Gabriel’s hands were smoothing around Dean’s hips stroking his cock. Dean cried out in pleasure, bucking back onto Gabriel’s cock even as it pinned him to the bed. It was like it had all happened before, and yet was happening for the first time – like he was stuck in a time loop. Dean couldn’t count how many times Gabriel touched him just right, only to have it happen all over again. He felt completely distant from his body, and yet bound by it, experiencing each moment of pleasure to infinity.

After what felt like hours, Gabriel’s voice reeled him back. “Are you ready, babe?”

Dean nodded dumbly. He had no idea what Gabriel was talking about, but whatever it was, he was ready for it.

All at once, both Gabriels pushed in, and Dean felt his body expand with devastating pleasure.

“Gabriel!”

Gabriel must have been able to read his mind. He slowed, but he didn’t stop. Dean was grateful. Every little spark of pain complimented his pleasure so divinely. He couldn’t get enough.

“Keep...keep going!” He grunted, arching up uncontrollably and twisting his fists in the sheets.

Gabriel watched his back bow as he took everything Gabriel had, and it drove Gabriel wild. “Oh, Dean-o… you are absolutely... gorgeous.” He groaned. “That’s it. Take it. Take my cock. I want to fill you to the brim.”

Finally, Dean felt both versions of himself in perfect sync – two of Gabriel’s cocks filling him so heavily that Dean could barely move. Gabriel was panting against his back and Dean felt his wings drape over him, although he wasn’t sure in which bedroom. Gabriel kissed Dean’s neck in both realities, then he started to move.

Dean and Gabriel groaned in unison. It was unbelievable. Gabriel parted his tight, wet heat twice, filling Dean was impossible pleasure, all the while fondling his cock. It was like having four hands on him – stroking, petting, and rubbing him all over. Dean rolled his hips what little he could out of instinct, making Gabriel slide in even deeper.

Dream Gabriel pulled out a little and began focusing his thrusts on Dean’s prostate, while Gabriel in the bunker fucked him steadily. Dean groaned, burying his face in both beds. Soon he was gasping and moaning desperately.

“Gabe! Gabriel!”

When Gabriel replied, his voice was raspy and deep. “I’m going to bring you back now, Dean.”

Dean looked back at him and nodded. He was completely roughed up and tousled-haired. He looked drunk. It made Gabriel’s arousal soar. He pulled Dean into a kiss, their first kiss, and in the next second Gabriel’s wings faded and they were back in the bunker.

Dean’s bodies became one. The sensations, while less intense, suddenly felt more real. He felt his own sheets under his knees and chest. He smelled the familiar, stale smell of the underground bunker, mixed with his own cologne and the smell of their bodies intertwined. But most of all, he felt Gabriel’s cock heavy and hot moving inside him, and Gabriel’s hand stroking his leaking, throbbing cock.

“Good morning sunshine.” Gabriel rasped.

Dean groaned. He nearly came right there.

Gabriel fucked him a little more carefully out here, but it didn’t matter to Dean. It felt even better than anything that could happen in his head. Gabriel played him just right, and Dean felt an orgasm building up powerfully in his balls. He had no idea how long Gabriel was in him, but it must have been hours. That was the only way he ever orgasmed like this. It ate him up from the inside so slowly that it was almost painful. But it was the best kind of pain – a tingling, mind-numbing ecstasy.

“Gabe… keep going… just like that...” He groaned into his bed.

Gabriel squeezed his hand and twisted it over his cock, pounding into Dean’s prostate then gliding in deep. He rubbed his body against Dean’s entrance with each thrust, then slid part way out to do it again. And again.

Dean gaped soundlessly as his orgasm bubbled up just below the surface. He was shaking with the effort of keeping his butt up, and Gabriel seemed to have read his mind again.

“Come on, Dean. You’ve earned it.” Gabriel taunted with every thrust. “Let yourself go. Or I’ll just keep visiting you. I’ll make you come all night long. Every night...”

Dean whined, slamming his fist on the bed, his expression screwed up. With one more stroke and thrust, Dean’s orgasm finally broke the surface. He gasped loudly and spasmed for what felt like minutes. He arched up for Gabriel to ravage him, and ravage he did.

Gabriel fucked him through his orgasm, until he’d pushed every last drop of it out of Dean’s cock. Dean whimpered. He actually whimpered. He clawed at the sheets and grit his teeth. Gabriel came with a moan and slowed to a halt at last.

Dean collapsed. He barely felt Gabriel pull out of him, but he felt oddly empty when he was gone. Dean lay panting silently on the bed, laying in his own cum. He didn’t even care. He felt Gabriel’s warmth return as he pulled Dean to him. The pressure felt amazing. It pressed all of his reverberating bliss into a ball in the very center of his body, making his very soul ring in satisfaction. He looked up groggily and mustered out one word:

“Fuck.”

Gabriel chuckled. He let Dean ride out his pleasure high for a while. He was surprisingly patient. When Dean looked back up, Gabriel had turned a light on and had magicked him and his bed clean. He was laying on Dean, idly reading his copy of Busty Asian Beauties.

“Really?” Dean grumbled.

Gabriel flashed him a smile. “Morning, sunshine.”

Dean reached out and swatted the magazine out of his hand. Gabriel chuckled and set it down, then let Dean pull him into a sloppy kiss. Gabriel kissed back instantly. He cuddled Dean to him as they lay sideways on his bed, butt-naked.

“So uh...”

“Don’t tell Sammy?”

Dean grinned sleepily. “Yeah. That. But...”

Gabriel looked at him curiously.

“I can’t… I can’t keep me eyes open.” He admitted. “So I’m going to sleep. You’re going to give me a few hours, and then...”

“And then...” Gabriel smirked dangerously.

Dean flushed a little. “Then you’re to do all that stuff you said...”

“Oh?”

“...about visiting me in my sleep and... all that.” Dean informed him. There was the slightest bit of embarrassment behind Dean’s exhausted attempt at nonchalance, and it made Gabriel’s smirk widen.

“You got it, Dean-o.”

Dean smiled in satisfaction. “You’re a freak, Gabriel.” He dropped his head onto the sheets and closed his eyes.

Gabriel chuckled. “Oh, you have no idea.” He snapped them both under the blankets and turned the lights off, leaving them in darkness once more.

Goodnight!

[akamaiden]

All The Time

A/N: This is my entry for the 3,5k Writing Challenge hosted by @dangerousvikings and @lisinfleur. Again, I give an amount of zero fucks about Infinity War plot. The events on this fic is settled after Civil War. Enjoy! ♥

Gif belongs to: @camilabarnes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader.

Prompts: “I could literally choke you right now.” “I might be into that.” + “You’re such a dirty girl, of course this excites you.”

Warnings: Angst, language, brief mentions of violence and smut.

Words: 1,996.

“Are you serious, Tony?” you sighed annoyed.

“Y/N, it's me or you going in this mission. You know that I'm trying to get used to the idea, but it's hard,” Tony said.

You looked at Tony and he had the saddest expression ever on his face. You caressed his shoulder gently before saying, “Don’t try too hard, just take your time. And okay, I'll go in that mission with Barnes. It's just a mission right?”

“You’re the best, Y/N,” he said hugging you.

“Yeah, yeah, anyways. I'm just doing this because it's for you, metal head,” you said hugging him back.

Tony was more than a friend for you, he was a brother. And considering that he was trying to get used to coexist in the same place that Barnes, you could try to. But this didn't mean that you forgive him, it was really hard to believe that whatever HYDRA did, he didn't control his actions for once.

Deep inside, you believed that maybe James Barnes liked to be a deadly weapon. He was one of the most fatal assassins, he enjoyed this somehow. At least, was what you thought.

*

“Why he can't go with his boyfriend? Why me? Damn, Tony is definitely owing me one,” you were complaining for probably the third time.

You were making a cup of hot milk with honey to help you to get some sleep because all you could think off is how unfair you had to go on one a mission with the unique person in the team which you didn't talk, not even a single word.

“Do you talk to yourself constantly? I mean, I need to know considering that we're going on one mission together,” Bucky said cocky.

“Goddammit, Barnes!” you hissed angrily. He scared the hell out of you, but obviously that you'd never say that loud. “Do you always approach people like this?” You said rolling your eyes.

“Why are you interested about how I approach people?” he said smirking.

You simply rolled your eyes because unfortunately you couldn't rip that damn smirk from his face.

“I’m not interested in anything you do, just for you to know,” you said and started drinking your milk.

“If you say so,” he shrugged and you noticed that he had broad shoulders.

Okay he's kinda beautiful, just a bit, but he's a fucking psycho, you thought to yourself.

“Nice PJ's,” he said trying to suppress a giggle.

“Oh for Christ's sake! You have a vibranium arm and you want to mock my PJ's?”

“It’s the strongest metal on earth. What can you say about your unicorn PJ's?” he said proudly.

“Good for you, put in your ass and give me a break,” you said rolling your eyes at him and leaving him alone while he restarted giggling.

“Asshole,” you said angrily.

“I heard that, Y/N!” he said still laughing.

Once in your room, you slammed the door shut and tried to have a good night of sleep, because unfortunately you'd leave really early with that asshole that people called Bucky.

Happily during the travel Bucky didn't talk to much, and for that you were grateful.

Actually he looked extremely focused, much to your liking.

When you arrived at the suspicious new HYDRA base, you saw Bucky got tense. And somehow that touched you.

“Barnes, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,”

But you noticed that his voice sounded lower than usual. You patted his shoulder and smiled to him.

“You’re bigger than this, we can do this,” you said even that you didn't know where your attitude came from.

“Okay… Ready?” he asked.

You nodded and you slowly entered the building, it seemed an abandoned place, judging by how clean it wasn't.

“I thought we'd be welcome by dozens of trained assassins,” you said lowering your gun, noticing that the place seemed desert.

“There’s something strange, here,” Bucky said.

“Trust me, there's nothing more strange than us going on a mission together,” you said.

“Can you stop talking for a second?” he said.

“Can you be more a pain in the ass than this?”

“I could literally choke you right now, if this means that you'll shut your mouth,”

“I might be into that,” you teased.

He lowered his gun and tilted his head looking at you attentively, but before he could answer you that dozens of trained assassins came and then it was chaos.

You and Bucky against a lot of men that were there to kill or be killed. Happily, without serious bruises you and Bucky passed of them.

You found a room full of prisoners, each one tied on their bed.

“They’re doing experiments on them… Just like they did to me,” Bucky said.

“I know this is hard for you, but we need to help those people, James,” you said.

“It’s the first time you say my name,” he verified.

“Don’t get used to-” the phrase died in your mouth when you felt the cold metal of a gun pressed against your temple.

“Thank you for bringing him back to us, Ms. Y/L/N,” the man said in a thick accent.

“Let her go,” Bucky said.

“She can go as long as you come to me,” the man said.

“Bucky, don't listen to him!” you said.

“You’re talking a way too much,” the man said pulling at your hair.

Bucky used this little distraction to shot him in the shoulder.

“You pig!” you said once he was hissing in pain and you stood up and kicked his stomach, making he curl up on the floor.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked.

“It’s okay, c'mon let's go,” you said and started freeing those people. “We need reinforcements, right now!” you said and started screaming when you saw Bucky being shot.

“Goddammit!” you walked towards to the guy that was on the floor and when he was about to kill himself, you pulled him by his hair and hit his head against the floor knocking him out. Even that he had passed out, you handcuffed him just to be sure.

“You okay?” you said reaching for Bucky.

“Yes, it wasn't serious,” he said.

Once you were back in the compound, you helped take the people you found on HYDRA's base, Doctor Cho needed to check on them.

You went to your room and took a long bath, you were tired. You got up to make your usual milk before you sleep.

When you finished your drink, you remembered that since you arrived you didn't talk to Bucky. Okay, he wasn't your best friend, but you decided to check on him even so.

You knocked on his door and after some time he opened the door for you. You chuckled seeing the surprise in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” you asked pointing this flesh arm.

“Yes, I… Wait, did you come check on me?” he asked.

“I was just trying to be nice, James,” you said rolling your eyes.

“I know, sorry. Come in,” he said.

It's not a good idea, you thought but entered anyways.

“You did well, today… I know that it was kinda difficult for you,” you said while you tried to memorize the details of his room.

“I thought it'd be harder to be honest,” he said.

“Can I sit?” you asked pointing to his bed, to which he nodded and sat at your side. “Do you think they were trying to make new winter soldiers?” you continued.

“Probably. I wasn't the only one,” he said.

You noticed that every time someone talked about this dark phase of his life he changed, he seemed distant and uncomfortable.

“Sorry, James. I didn't want to leave you uncomfortable in your own room,” you said touching his shoulder.

“You used to call me Barnes,” he verified.

“I can continue calling you like this if-”

“You can call me Bucky, just like you did earlier, doll,” he said caressing your cheek with his vibranium arm.

You blushed wildly just by his simple touch, the cool fingers felt so good against your burning cheeks, and the idea of calling him Bucky seemed so intimate. And that damn pet name, made you pressed your thighs together.

“Isn’t a way too intimate? I mean, I barely know you,” you said.

“Are you saying that you want to know more about me, doll?”

“Can you stop using that damn pet name, Bucky?” but your voice instead of sounding angry, sounded low and sensual.

“Do you prefer baby girl, maybe?” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes at him, but you couldn't avoid noticing his lips. That plump lips who seemed so inviting.

“My eyes are up here, doll,” he said noticing that you weren't looking at his eyes.

“Oh shut up, Bucky,”

“Make me,”

And you did it. You pulled him closer and touched his lips with yours and you were right, his lips, his kiss, tasted like heaven. Both of his hands, found your hips and brought you to his lap. Immediately you guided your hands to the back of his neck, scratching at it, pulling at his hair, earning low groans from him.

“Bucky,” you said breaking the kiss.

“What?” his hands, both vibranium and flesh were inside of your dress touching you, caressing you.

“Why do you even wear this?” you said taking his shirt off and you saw him froze when he saw your eyes scanning all his features. The broad shoulders, the unfairly toned body, and then you saw his scars. You traced them with your fingertips. “They’re beautiful, you're beautiful,” you reassured him.

And then he smiled. The most beautiful smile that you ever saw. God, he was so beautiful that it hurts.

Now confident of himself and his actions, he laid you down on the bed and started trying to devour you. His hands and mouth were everywhere. On your neck, on your lips, grabbing your breasts, sucking hungrily at your nipples.

“Bucky, please,” you moaned when he covered your body with his own, pressing his erection against your thigh.

“What do you want me to do, doll?” The cockiness clear in his voice.

“Fuck me,” you said without thinking twice. “Fuck me like you hate me,” you said.

“Did you mean it, right? The choking thing,” he said.

“Yes,” you moaned shamelessly. The simple thought of Bucky choking you with his vibranium arm, made your pussy clench.

“You’re such a dirty girl, of course this excites you,” he said.

He got rid of his own clothes and when you two were naked, he didn't lose time teasing you, all the foreplay and teasing could wait, but you were craving for this so badly that this was unnecessary.

He penetrated you at once, and this would hurt if you weren't so wet, so ready for me. You moaned out loud at the sensation of him stretching you perfectly, filling you so damn good.

“Shit,” he groaned.

You pulled him to a kiss at the same time he started thrusting inside you. His moves were fast and hard.

God bless the super soldiers, you thought to yourself. You were stretching his back, your legs locking him in place and you felt him so deep inside you.

“You feel so good, so fucking good, doll,” he said and guided his vibranium arm to your neck, squeezing it tightly.

“Fuck,” you said rolling your eyes. You guided one for your hands to your clit, circling it fast, because Bucky was groaning out loud, he wouldn't last longer.

“Cum for me doll, cum all over my cock,” he said next to your ear.

His hoarse voice, the way he was hitting your g-spot repeatedly, all this made you lost. You simply exploded around him, yelling his name for everyone who wanted to hear. Bucky came right after you growling out loud.

“Can I sleep here?” you said after you got down of your high.

“Of course. We just started, doll” he said sending goosebumps through your body.

Tags: @amour-quinn @haliannej @dani-si @nothingeverdies @thisishowdynastiesareborn @filthy-lil-thing @feistybaby @attorneyl @ivarswickedqueen @ivarsshieldmadien

[vrepitsorrynotsorry]

Fic: Location, Location, Location

Title: Location, Location, Location Rating: G Pairing: Eventual Shotor Characters: Shiro, Lotor, guest starring Keith, and a couple unmemorable OCs Author’s Notes: I’m not dead! I’m just glacially slow. I’m trying to write at least a sentence every day, but that ain’t much, so I apologize. Hopefully, it’s good? Part 1 of Physician Heal Thyself and follows more or less directly after “Ready Set Bake”. Keith and Shiro are found family in this and refer to one another as brothers but are not genetically related. Keith knows he’s part Galra but has not yet met his mother, which is not really relevant to this part, but of note for later. Lotor worked in engineering research and development for Galra Inc. before he quit. He also did other things for the company and apart from the company, but that’s for later, too. I know very little about either real estate or running a business. Please excuse my ignorance and vagueness.

After the competition ended, life didn’t, so it was a couple of weeks before both Shiro and Lotor had free time to discuss their bakery project. Finally, they settled on an otherwise free Saturday and planned to meet up early and discuss looking at available properties. They had decided to establish the bakery near where Shiro was living. Lotor assured the other man that he would not mind relocating at all. In fact, he was looking forward to a fresh start, and had already found his own apartment in the area.

The night before the meetup, Shiro’s mind had been running a mile a minute, so he didn’t sleep well and was up earlier than usual. He tried to be quiet so that Keith could sleep, but it wasn’t long before the younger man came shuffling out of his room, half awake.

“Why are you up?” Keith grumbled, followed by a jaw-cracking yawn.

“Lotor and I are going to talk about locations today. You know, for the bakery? I guess I’m just...restless.”

Keith’s expression shifted by an almost unnoticeable margin, but Shiro liked to think he’d gotten pretty good at reading Keith over the years they’d known each other. Keith was excited that Shiro was finally on board with opening his own bakery, but he wasn’t too keen on Lotor. To be fair, Keith wasn’t too keen on most changes or new things. 

“You have the day off from the garage, right? You could join us, if you want.”

The offer was carefully calculated to give Keith the dual opportunity of keeping an eye on the new stranger in Shiro’s life, which Shiro knew he really wanted to do, and if Shiro was lucky, to get a little more accustomed to him. If Shiro was really honest with himself, he was also a little nervous about spending an entire day alone with Lotor. They’d almost always had other people around during their interactions before.

Keith shrugged. “Okay. When’s he stopping by?”

Shiro opened his mouth to answer and then realized that while finally settling on a day, he and Lotor had forgotten to nail down a time. “Umm...”

There was a soft knock at the door that they might not have heard without the awkward pause in the conversation, and Shiro couldn’t help thinking “speak of the devil.” It really was Lotor at the door, slouching nervously on the stoop with a cardboard drink carrier holding three cups steaming in the cool morning air in one hand and a battered paper folder under the other arm.

“Am I too early? I was already up...”

“No,” Shiro assured him, inviting the other man in with a sweeping arm gesture. “We’re awake.”

“I brought hot beverages,” Lotor mumbled, though the cups were pretty obvious.

“Shiro doesn’t drink coffee,” Keith told him. “Who’s the third one for?”

“You,” Lotor offered with a small shrug, “assuming you would be awake. Otherwise, I would drink it. Caffeine is less effective a stimulant to Galra. Shiro’s is a green tea latte.”

Shiro scooped up the cup Lotor had indicated was for him. “Thanks.” He took a sip and realized that Lotor had gotten it made with coconut milk and a little honey--just how he liked it.

Keith was still looking back and forth between his own coffee and Lotor suspiciously. Shiro cut off further anticipated interrogation by explaining, “We talked about coffee preferences, or lack of them in my case, one day on the show when we were making coffee cakes. What’d you get for Keith? A triple-shot or something?” Keith already knew that Shiro had mentioned his own Galra ancestry to Lotor.

“Quadruple. They call it ‘the Defibrillator.’ It’s black, but I have some sweetener packets, if you’d like to add some.” 

“No, this is fine. Thanks.” The last word was a little grudging, but Shiro appreciated the effort he knew it represented.

After a few more moments of silent sipping, Shiro gestured to the folder Lotor was still clutching tightly to his side. “Did you do some research for today?”

Lotor cleared his throat and his cheeks flushed. “Yes, I um, I’ve had a lot of time on my hands recently...” Shiro knew he’d quit his job at Galra Inc. before the competition, but he’d never thought about what the other man might be doing before the bakery project could really get moving. He didn’t seem like much of a “hobby” kind of guy, except of course for the obvious enjoyment of baking, but there was only so much of that one could do.

He pulled a city map from the folder and laid it out on the coffee table. It was peppered with small adhesive circles in different colors. In fact, most were carefully paired halves of two different colors.

“Based upon listings both online and in print, red are properties that do not currently have kitchen facilities, but could be altered to have them, green are currently fitted for some form of food industry, yellow are on the lower end of the cost scale, but not necessarily in highly trafficked areas, and blue have regular foot traffic, but are more expensive.”

“What’s purple?” Shiro asked. There were quite a few of those. 

“Competition.”

“Do you know which ones are leases and which are for sale?”

Lotor dipped back into the folder. “It was getting a little cluttered, so that information is on these overlays.” He produced transparent sheets with dots in black and white. “Black is for lease and white is for sale,” he explained as he carefully placed the stark circles over their more colorful counterparts.

“Wow,” Shiro remarked, “that’s...”

“Obsessive?” Keith muttered.

“Thorough,” Shiro finished with a warning glance. “Sounds like you’ve got this pretty much covered.”

“Not entirely.” Lotor tapped the map. “When it comes to basic logistics and analysis, yes, I’m quite comfortable doing the research, but there are two things I can’t do. First, a place on paper or a screen is quite different that seeing it in person. I figure we can narrow it down some based on these factors and then go see the remaining places.”

“I agree.” Shiro nodded. “What’s the second thing?”

“The human element,” Lotor admitted with a sigh. “I very much dislike dealing with people, especially those who will inevitably be trying to sell me something. I’ve hardly looked into the associated Realtors and agents at all.”

Shiro shook his head and chuckled, and Lotor arched one brow. “Sorry. I’m not laughing at you, I promise,” Shiro hurried to reassure him. “Lucky for you, I’m more of a people person.”

Both Lotor and Keith’s eyes widened as Shiro retrieved his own folder from a desk along one wall. “I’ve been looking into ratings and reviews for different property management companies and Realtors. It shouldn’t take us long to cross reference information, and then we can make a few calls and hopefully see a few locations.”

Keith looked back and forth between the two of them. “I’m not sure the universe can handle you two working together.”

“Does that mean you don’t want to tag along?” Shiro asked playfully.

“Oh, I’m going with you,” Keith insisted. 

He left briefly for a morning run while Shiro and Lotor compared notes and made some calls. Well, Shiro made a few calls. Lotor would occasionally offer a whispered question for him to relay to the person on the other end of the call, but he declined to participate otherwise.

“It’s better this way, believe me,” he declared. “My social interaction skills are limited to three things: avoiding people, which defeats the purpose entirely, saying whatever I think they want to hear, which could end badly where property is involved, and manipulating situations, which I’ve been trying very hard not to do after cutting ties with my family. Besides, I don’t have enough information on any of these places to do it effectively, yet.”

“That’s what the calls are for,” Shiro pointed out. “You ask questions to get more information.”

“I’ve been told I don’t know how to ask things politely, and I make everything sound like an interrogation.”

Shiro let it go because he really didn’t mind doing this portion of the work, and Lotor had obviously spent a great deal of time collecting and organizing other information. 

By the time Keith returned from his run and took a quick shower, they had a short list of five places to visit first. One location oddly wasn’t connected to any of Shiro’s research but seemed very promising.

Several of the locations were in areas with limited parking options, so Lotor offered to drive them. Keith declined, preferring to take his own bike.

“Don’t take it personally,” Shiro told Lotor as he climbed into the passenger seat. “He doesn’t even like it when I drive. I think he likes both the combination of being in control and the open air.” Lotor just shrugged it off and headed toward downtown. He was a very cautious driver. Very.

“If you’re worried that Keith needs to follow you, he does have the address of the first place.”

“Hm?” Lotor shot him a puzzled glance. “He passed us some time ago.”

“Well, you are driving awfully slow.”

“It’s this ground traffic.” Lotor huffed. “It’s so claustrophobic, and movement options are ridiculously limited! Get me out in open space, and I assure you, things would be very different.”

“There’s nothing quite like flying in space,” Shiro readily agreed.

When they finally pulled up in front of the first place on their list, both Keith and the location’s realtor were waiting for them.

“Did you get lost?” Keith asked.

“No,” Lotor answered simply, and Shiro decided not to add any comment.

The first location had formerly been a small cafe styled like an old diner. The kitchen space would need to be totally renovated if it were to become a bakery, as it had two large grill tops, but only one small oven that had definitely seen better days. It was for rent, so any changes would have to be approved by the property owner. Shiro also couldn’t help but notice that it was midmorning on a weekend, and he’d seen hardly any foot traffic outside the large windows along the front of the building. It had looked much more appealing on paper.

The second location was equally unmemorable, though Shiro had talked Lotor into letting him drive there.

At the third location, Shiro finally got a taste of what Lotor had meant about all his questions sounding like interrogations. In this case, however, Shiro felt it was kind of justified.

It wasn’t like Shiro hadn’t expected a few of the property agencies to exaggerate or fudge a few small things. After all, this was business, and they were in it to make a profit like anyone else would be. This, however, was not just a little gilding of the lily.

It was immediately obvious that the published pictures of the storefront were not current. In the listing, there was a lovely, glass entry door. In person, there was a piece of plywood chained into the frame with a large padlock and decorated with some rather risqué graffiti. This was also the location without a pre-researched contact.

The last time Shiro had seen Lotor get angry there had been no yelling. Instead, the other man went intensely quiet, and Shiro could see that Lotor’s expression had gone completely blank.

“Tell me,” he asked in an icy tone, “don’t you think this is something that should have been mentioned in the listing?”

The property manager blinked, but her wide smile didn’t waver. “Ah, yes. This is unfortunate, but it happened only recently-”

“How recently?” Lotor interrupted. “The listing I looked at was posted only a few days ago.”

“There is an allowance included to replace the door,” the woman continued, skirting the question. “This is a great neighborhood. There’s-”

“How great a neighborhood can it be if it’s prone to property damage and vandalism?” Lotor cut into her presentation again.

“Well, just look at the other-”

“Is there something you’re not disclosing about this particular site?” He took a step forward and she took one back. “The interior description was rather vague. Should we expect it to be in

a similar state to the door? How long has this property actually been vacant? Was the information provided intentionally scant because of some kind of past incident?” Lotor was leaving very little time between questions for the woman to respond, and she was beginning to look increasingly alarmed.

“Should one of us step in?” Keith asked quietly from beside him. “She looks like she’s about ready to call the police or something.” He wasn’t wrong.

Shiro gently placed a hand on one of Lotor’s shoulders and he tensed, head whipping around to turn his piercing gaze on Shiro. His expression softened and then became quizzical.

“You think maybe you should ease up a bit? I see what you meant about coming across badly when you ask questions.”

Lotor’s eyebrows shot up and he turned back to the property manager, seeming to see for the first time how she was cowering away from him. He looked lost and a little hurt, but Shiro figured damage control took priority at the moment.

Shiro walked over to the rattled woman hands out in a placating gesture “I’m sorry about that. He’s just a bit...” he trailed off, searching for exactly the right word.

“Galra?” she suggested with a scowl.

Shiro frowned back. “I was going to go with ‘overly assertive’, actually.” He took a calming breath and made another attempt at diplomacy. “You can understand why this was an unpleasant surprise, can’t you? I’d like to think you have an explanation for all of this, and I’m willing to listen.”

This was turning into some kind of absurd property good cop, bad cop. He could see it all in his mind...

“Help me help you, ma’am,” he would say, expression concerned. “This kind of thing really upsets my business partner. I don’t know what he might do.”

“I ought to report this to the Intergalactic Business Bureau,” Lotor would mutter ominously behind him while glaring at the woman, “and I’m leaving a truly nasty review on Yowl.”

“Just tell me what we want to know. What’s really up with this place? Save yourself a lot of trouble.”

The woman’s fearful expression relaxed, and for just a moment, Shiro saw her analyzing the situation shrewdly before her expression turned neutral. “Well, I suppose that makes sense.” She must really, really want to move this property.

“I would like to apologize.” Lotor’s voice cut into their conversation at that point. It was the exact opposite of his tone from before. It was soothing and absolutely nonthreatening. “Clearly, I overreacted badly. I’m moving on from a life where corruption and deceit were commonplace. To believe I was seeing the same in the life I’m trying to start over was...deeply upsetting, but I had no right to take it out on you. If you’re still willing, I would love to see inside the building.”

If you looked up “contrition” in the dictionary, Lotor’s face could be the picture next to it. In fact, it was so perfectly sorry, Shiro’s mind instinctively distrusted the intent, but the property manager seemed to accept it.

She finally had a chance to formally introduce herself as Karen, which Shiro already knew from their brief phone conversation, and explain that she was a lawyer and didn’t usually do this kind of work, but had been managing the property for her brother, who had recently decided to sell. He and his wife had tried to start a restaurant together, but neither the business nor the marriage worked out. After it sat empty for months, they decided to sell the restaurant and split the take. Also, the door hadn’t been broken--the wife had had it made special and decided she was taking it with her.

Inside the building things were actually in pretty decent shape, though neither Shiro nor Lotor were particularly pleased with some of the decorating decisions. Those could be redone, however. There was a very nice, large oven in the kitchen they were told had been primarily used for dinner rolls and desserts. The property was also priced to move quickly. It would be more expensive than leasing initially, but both quite liked the idea of not having to answer to a landlord or property manager.

They decided to take a break for lunch after sending Karen on her way, but it was the middle of lunch rush on a Saturday, and they were having trouble finding a table anywhere.

“My apartment isn’t that far, if you’d like to grab something and eat there,” Lotor offered. Shiro and Keith both agreed, and Shiro suspected curiosity played a large factor in the decision.

The apartment really was quite close, and it was only a few minutes before they pulled into a parking lot beside a modest building. Shiro hadn’t necessarily been expecting anything extravagant, but he was fairly certain Lotor could afford an apartment a good deal larger and nicer than the small studio to which he escorted them. Lotor was clearly still in the process of unpacking, and the majority of the boxes still stacked against one wall appeared to be labelled “books.”

There was no formal dining space, so they crowded around a coffee table in the living area. Even though the seating looked comfortable, the table was low enough that it was easier to sit on the floor. For a few minutes, they were all focused on eating; wandering all over town to look at potential bakery sites was hungry work.

Eventually, Keith broke the comfortable silence by asking, “So, have you two thought of a name for the bakery, yet?”

Lotor and Shiro looked at each other. “Well, no,” Shiro admitted.

“We thought that was a step that could wait for a little while,” Lotor added.

Keith shrugged. “Okay. Just so long as it’s not some horrible pun.” He leveled a playful glare at his brother. “I don’t believe for a minute that you haven’t thought of like a dozen really awful ones.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Shiro replied, all obviously false innocence. “I would never even think about naming a legitimate business something like ‘Bake It Or Leave It’.”

Keith groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Or ‘Flour Power’. Definitely not anything like ‘Crumb and Get It’.”

“Stop! Please!”

“Or,” Lotor interjected, face completely deadpan, “we could make it a really pretentious bakery and call it ‘The Upper Crust’.”

Both Keith and Shiro stared at him shocked silence for a few moments before Shiro burst into a fit of laughter so strong he choked on the bite of food he taken right before the unexpected joke.

Lotor’s eyes went wide and he apologized profusely. He hands fluttered between hovering uselessly in front of him and reaching toward Shiro as if to help but unsure how and back. Once he had enough air, Shiro assured him that he was fine. They locked eyes for a moment, and then both were laughing.

Keith watched them. They seemed genuinely happy, and there was warmth in their expressions. He might not be totally sold on the idea of Lotor working with Shiro yet, but there was no denying they had a connection. Suddenly, the tiny apartment seemed extra crowded.

“I don’t think I’m going to join you to look at the two places left on the list,” Keith announced. Like he had flipped some kind of switch, both of the other men’s demeanors changed from content to nervous.

“Why?” Shiro asked. “Is something wrong?”

“We’ll stop making puns,” Lotor added. “I promise.”

“I’ve just got a couple of things I need to do,” Keith hurried to explain. He had no idea why they suddenly seemed so uncomfortable with the idea of being left alone when they were getting along just fine seconds ago. He hadn’t even been meant to accompany them in the first place! 

Keith was reminded of when he had applied for his current job at the garage. It hadn’t sounded like an interview would be required, so he had been a little nervous when the owner had called to arrange one. Keith didn’t hate people--well, not all of them--but he wasn’t great at interacting with strangers, and he hated small talk. He knew he came across as abrupt and unfriendly to many. Shiro had talked him down and accompanied him to the interview, waiting outside the office until he had finished, and that had only been one of many times Shiro provided unwavering support. What would it really hurt to return the favor in a small way?

Also, Keith realized, if he were to leave now, Lotor would think it was because of him. He still wasn’t anywhere near one of Keith’s favorite people, and he wasn’t sure how much they should trust him, but if nothing else, Keith was certain he intended Shiro no harm.

“It’s not urgent,” he said and watched the other two men visibly sag in relief. “I guess it can wait until after we see the other locations.”

The fourth option was also for sale fairly inexpensively and had once been a bakery, but it was a foreclosed property, and the previous owners had stripped everything they could realistically carry away and even a few that seemed decidedly unrealistic.

“Wow...” Shiro let out a low whistle as he stared at the void where a large oven had once been situated. “They must have really liked that oven.” It had to have been terribly heavy and getting it through the doorway must have been challenging to say the least.

Lotor wrinkled his nose at the state of the floor that had been underneath the former appliance. “They apparently couldn’t be bothered to clean up after themselves though, hm?”

The property might be affordable, but they would have to invest a great deal into making it workable again--maybe even more than at some of the locations they had already seen.

They never even got to see the inside of the last location on their list--it had just been leased before they got there.

Since they had eaten at Lotor’s place for lunch, Shiro invited him to eat dinner with him and Keith so they could discuss the four locations they’d seen that day. They ended up ordering pizza.

“Honestly,” Lotor admitted with a sigh, “I’m leaning toward that for sale property, as much as I’d rather not have to deal with Karen.”

“Is it the sketchy business practices or the xenophobia?” Shiro asked, only half joking.

“A little of both, really. I can’t imagine it would be terribly pleasant, and it’s at least partly my own fault.”

Shiro shrugged. “We won’t really know unless we give it a shot. We can always expand our short list and keep looking.”

“It really was a decent location,” Lotor argued. “I’m not certain how long it will remain on the market. We may only get one shot at it.”

“We don’t want to rush into a decision, though.” Karen had made it sound like the owners wanted to sell fast, but she may have been exaggerating to put them under an increased sense of pressure. Then again, they had missed out on the fifth place on that day’s list. “What do you say we sleep on it and see how we feel about it tomorrow?”

The next day, both agreed that they would make an offer on what they had started calling the “Open Door Property.” Lotor vowed to be on his best behavior, though Shiro thought he rather preferred intensely disapproving Lotor to the diplomatic but rather insincere mask he wore while “behaving.”

“You know I don’t really care if you’re perfectly polite to Karen, right?” Shiro asked. “I mean, you shouldn’t be intentionally rude or anything, but I don’t expect you to be a model citizen at all times. Just be yourself.”

Lotor arched an eyebrow but did not comment.

This time, they met Karen at her office. They had scarcely exchanged pleasantries before she informed them that she had already received an offer of the listing price.

Shiro and Lotor both knew that the property was priced on the lower end of the pricing scale for the area of town where it was located, so this was not entirely surprising. They made a higher offer and left with the uneasy knowledge that it was now a game of waiting and wills.

Unfortunately, it dragged on for several days. Every offer was countered, and the price crept upward. Eventually, they reached a point where they weren’t certain they wanted to go much higher, but the thought of losing the location after all that trouble was also unappealing. 

They discussed it and settled on a maximum price they were willing to pay. It came as quite a shock when Karen called to tell them that the other interested party had just offered the exact same number.

Shiro’s shoulders slumped. This was it. They were going to have to start the process all over again. It was probably just the bitterness talking, but he thought Karen seemed pretty pleased at their disappointment, smiling from her end of the video call.

“What if,” Lotor suddenly said, startling Shiro a little, “we could match that offer but make a generous downpayment in cash?”

Karen’s eyes glittered, and Shiro was certain she wanted to ask how generous but refrained. “Could you do that?” she asked.

Shiro turned so his face was not visible and mouthed, “Could we really?”

“We could,” Lotor affirmed, cool as a cucumber. “However, that will require a trip to the bank, which cannot be done until tomorrow, and such a large withdrawal will require some paperwork. I would prefer not to go through all that trouble unless we have some assurance that this would close the deal.”

“Let me see whether the other party is willing to raise their offer, and I’ll get right back to you.” Karen’s face disappeared, and they were left to wait again.

“So, cash, huh?” On some level, Shiro had always known that Lotor was wealthy, but he hadn’t ever really made it obvious.

“In my experience, it is generally difficult to resist.” He said it so matter-of-factly that Shiro was extremely curious about those experiences, but before he had time to ask, Karen called back.

“If you can have your cash downpayment to me by five o’clock in the evening tomorrow, it’s yours,” Karen told them. She seemed somewhat skeptical that it would be possible.

“Five o’clock,” Lotor acknowledged, and Karen terminated the call.

Shiro went with Lotor to the bank the next day. “I’ve never seen a large amount of cash in person before. I’m curious.” He then added, “Besides, it feels wrong for someone to be walking around with that much money alone.”

“How would anyone know?” Lotor asked with a smile and a roll of his eyes. “I won’t be carrying it out in the open.”

“Briefcase? Duffle bag?”

Lotor laughed. “I believe you watch too many movies. It won’t be in small bills and really won’t take up that much space.” He gestured to a small, leather messenger bag he had slung over one shoulder.

“Sliding a briefcase across the table would look more impressive.”

“Do you own one? No? Well, neither do I.”

Shiro wasn’t sure why he expected the bank to be some grand, old building--probably the movies again--but he had to admit he felt more comfortable in the one they actually went to for the money. The fact that there were only three tellers meant they had to wait for a while, but there was a bowl of hard candies.

“I need to speak to Mr. Hargrave, please,” Lotor told the smiling woman behind the counter and then they went back to the candy dish.

Shiro was just explaining to Lotor how he really didn’t know whether root beer was available in barrels like the candies anymore when the door to a side office opened and a small, nervous man appeared.

“Ah, Mr. Hargrave. How are you?” Lotor greeted him politely. “I’ve come in today to-”

“Is this about the automatic transfer incident?” Hargrave interrupted, wringing his hands in front of himself. “It is, isn’t it? I know I should have contacted you immediately, but it turned out to be a false alarm, and-”

“What incident?” Lotor cut the other man off in turn.

“It was merely a computer system error. The transfer went through as expected, and the message only appeared briefly, so I had hoped you might not have noticed,” the banker confessed. “But, if that’s not why you’re here?”

“No,” Lotor told him, “but I would like to discuss this further. Perhaps in your office?”

Shiro found himself forgotten in the main lobby in the wake of this mysterious money issue. What Lotor did with his money was really none of Shiro’s business, even if he was curious. He distracted himself reading pamphlets about loans, lines of credit, and similar financial topics he discovered near the candy dish. He was in the middle of “Do You Know If You Have Saved Enough for Retirement?” when he heard the office door open again.

“I’ll arrange for your withdrawal to be transferred from the main branch,” Hargrave was saying. “I’m afraid we don’t have that amount in cash on hand today. Would you like to wait here, or have me give you a call when it arrives?”

Shiro must have looked dismayed at the idea of hanging around in the bank lobby much longer because Lotor quickly asked, “How long do you think it will take?”

“An armored transport makes the rounds from branch to branch every few hours. They should be by within the hour.”

Lotor requested to be called and they walked to a café down the street to wait.

“So,” Shiro attempted to ask casually, “is everything really okay with that transfer Hargrave was talking about?”

“Yes.” Lotor answered simply, expression revealing nothing. Oh well, it was worth a shot!

“Exactly how big a downpayment are we making?” Shiro changed the subject. “I mean, if they didn’t have it on hand, it must be a fairly large sum.”

“It’s about half of the cost of the property.”

Shiro almost spat out a mouthful of tea. “Half of the total cost?” he repeated, somewhat stunned.

“I thought that might keep dear Karen from trying to change her mind. Why? Do you think it should be more?”

At first, Shiro thought he was being sarcastic, but Lotor appeared sincere. “That should be plenty,” he finally replied. He wasn’t certain he’d ever had that much money in his own bank account all at once. “Are you sure you want to spend so much right away? I feel like I’m barely contributing.”

“You will going forward,” Lotor reassured him. “It’s an investment. I’m certain we’ll earn it back and more besides.”

A short time later, Hargrave called, and they returned to the bank. Shiro felt vaguely like he was a part of some kind of heist as he watched the banker place neatly bundled stacks of bills into Lotor’s satchel. They also both signed papers for a loan on the remaining property value.

Shiro insisted on driving on the way to Karen’s office because the money made him feel like they had a target painted on them and he wanted to get there faster than he knew Lotor would drive.

Karen’s eyes widened fractionally as she was handed the money, and Shiro was relieved that he wasn’t the only one unused to dealing with this kind of situation. There followed a great deal more paperwork, and then the key was rather anticlimactically slid across the desk to them. The deed would be sent later.

“Congratulations,” Karen told them, “it’s all yours.”

The sun had already set by the time they exited Karen’s office. They should probably just go home, but...

“Hey,” Shiro asked, nudging Lotor’s arm, “wanna go by the bakery?”

Lotor grinned. “Yes!”

They realized after they got to the building that there was currently no power. They went in anyway.

“In the dark this place is kind of...”

“Creepy?”

With only light from the streetlamps outside for illumination, the dinginess and disrepair the property had fallen into was starkly highlighted, but it was theirs now, and that counted for something.

“Well, step one down,” Shiro declared. “We have our location. You know what step two is, right?”

“Buy a new door?” Lotor asked cheekily.

Shiro snorted. “I guess that’s part of step two: get this place ready for business.”

“It’s going to be a lot of work.”

Shiro grunted in agreement. “Yeah, but that’s one of the things friends are good for.”

[soukitas]

“When you’re drunk, throwing up is always a good idea.”

Pairing: Gintoki x Reader Genre: Fluff  Chapters: One shot Word count: 1,678 Summary: Gintoki was out drinking, as usual, and you run into him. He really is a handful, but you manage somehow, that’s how strong your feelings for him are. 

A/N: Hello, this is my first Gintama fic, it’s been a while since I have written, and I decided to write x reader fics because I know we all want a good Gintama gentleman in our lives. I try hard to keep them in character, and also live up to the anime’s style and humor, that’s why titles try to mimic Sorachi’s. This piece is a gift and fully dedicated to my favorite tumblr person and partner in meme crime @parurushi, the original Mrs. Sakata. Love you R, I hope you like this. 

If you’re on mobile “Keep reading” won’t work, but you can read the fic here.

The wind of Edo felt rather cold against Gintoki’s drunken face as it blew through the alleys of the Red Light district, the fact that his body heat was so high seemed to surprise him, as if the eight jar of beer he was chugging down didn’t have anything to do with it. The small establishment was quiet, being Gintoki the only one there as he was still fiddling with the ramen, that had already gone cold, in front of him.

— Alone again, Gin-san?

The silver-haired man furrowed his eyebrows together, offendedly, at the snarky comment that came from the owner. He was a very well-known man around said district, always getting into trouble, broke, and had passed out at the entrance of almost every bar that was open past midnight, nonetheless not a single shop owner disliked his presence, he was always served with joy, and treated with respect, a kind soul whose only purpose was to help those who really needed and deserved it.

— Leave me alone, old man, beer is best enjoyed when you’re drinking by yourself.

— That’s not a saying, Gin-san, you should find yourself a good wife, someone you can laugh with, that will take care of you even after you have fallen sick.

— Why are we talking about this?

— I’m just worried about your future, I won’t be around forever either, and my son is not taking care of the business, who will look after you when you’ve fainted from the alcohol?

— I’ll  just drink somewhere else, it’s not like I have an exclusive contract to drink here. This is like the anime, sometimes we’re with TOEI animation, sometimes we are with other studios, that’s just how it works.

The man seemed to enjoy the joke of a very upset Gintoki, whom had gotten a lot louder than at the start. As the atmosphere seemed to lower it’s tension the welcome bell rang at the door. The slim figure of a woman entered the shop, dressed up in a vibrant purple kimono with golden flowers ornamenting the silk.

— Welcome!

The owner shouted across the room and watched you get closer to the counter, he was aware your smile was relentless, but after working an eight-hour graveyard shift it was just natural you looked like death. You took a seat next to Gintoki, but the way his head was hanging low blocked him from actually becoming aware of your presence.

— You really are a good for nothing.

The sudden blurt of words coming from you seemed to push him over the edge, making him sit back up with an angered face and a raised tone.

— HEY GRANDMA WHY DON’T YOU MIND YOUR OWN- — he stopped mid-sentence when he realized the person he was talking to. — Ah, it’s just you. What the hell do you want?

— What do you mean “it’s just you”? That’s how you were raised to treat women? How are you not a virgin remains a mystery to me.

— What are you even doing here?

— Kagura called me.

— That kid. — he scoffed — I told her I don’t like being disturbed while I’m drinking, she doesn’t have to worry about me, I’m adult I can take care of myself.

— She wasn’t worried about you. — you said with certain mockery in your voice — She asked for ramen because she’s starving, because a certain “adult” hasn’t fed her all day.

— Whatever. — He muttered under his voice. — I don’t have any money anyway.

— You don’t? — the owner barged in.

— What you acting so surprised for? You told me you wanted to start giving back to the poor, well I am the poor, I’m taking back this beer.

You started laughing at his nonsense, knowing full well half of it was because of his drunken state, and the other half was his actual personality. The owner had already settled your order in front of you, ready to be taken back home. You had been friends with the Yorozuya for a while now; you always had some curiosity about that one man Tae always complained about, the one that took her younger brother into what she called a “path of disgrace and virginity”. One day you decided to walk home together with her, after all nights were dangerous for women to be wandering on their own, especially in that area of the city, and that’s when you first met Sakata Gintoki, on his knees, near the fridge, stealing your friend’s strawberry milk, you even almost felt sorry for him after Tae smothered her whole fist against his face and threw him out without his boots. After that event, you just seemed to run into him everywhere, and shortly enough you also became friends with the two younglings that lived with him: Shinpachi and Kagura.

All of you got along pretty well, mostly because you would take out Shinpachi and Kagura for a meal every now and then, and there was nothing more important for them that being well fed. Gintoki would often tag along, but the past weeks he wasn’t really present whenever you hanged out with them. You didn’t take it too personally, he was that kind of man anyway, stubborn, moody, a professional slacker, reminding yourself of all those flaws was just a way to question yourself why you liked him so much, why you worried so deeply about him, and longed for his company like you had for no other before.

— Don’t mind him, old man, he gets especially moody when he’s drunk. — you laughed along with the older man, seeing Gintoki clearly pissed off through the corner of your eye.

— I came here to have a good time and honestly, I feel so attacked right now.

— Quit being dramatic, Gin-chan, I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want. — you got up almost immediately after your statement, laying on the counter enough money to pay the bill off. You turned your body around, giving him a small pat on his curly hair — I will take this to Kagura. Don’t stay up too late.

You smiled towards him, to what he diverted his gaze from. You took your leave and the only sounds in the store were the clinking the dishes made when being washed.

— I get it now. — the owner broke the silence.

— What the hell are you talking about now?

— You guys call me an old man all the time, news for you, old men have some wisdom within them.

— Whatever you are insinuating, I can assure you you’re wrong. — Gintoki stood up, barely, with a little stumbling of his feet. — I will pay you for this some other time.

— There’s no need to, your friend left enough to cover your bill.

The surprise on Gintoki’s face could not be hidden, but he was not completely sure whether the owner’s words were real or just a prank of his own drunk mind. He took off immediately, struggling to get home on his own as his feet seemed not to work as desired and the directions in his head were not fully clear; somehow he made it to the base of the stairs, and even more impressive was how he managed to go all the way up to the apartment without falling off the handler, clumsily he opened the door, but the moment he shut it closed a dark shadow seemed to move on the couch. Despite his state Gintoki still managed to grab the handle of his sword and adopted his fighting position.

— You really took a little long to come.

Your voice snapped him out of his concentration, allowing his body to relax down.

— You scared the shit out of me, what the hell are you doing?

— Just wanted to make sure you got home safely, but I guess I fell asleep while waiting.

— Well, I’m home, so you can go back now.

— Alright, good night.

You started walking out of the house, but before you could fully close the door you heard a “blergh” like sound coming from inside. You sighed to yourself, trying to convince your head that you had no business checking what that was, but you, too, were stubborn, you turned on your heels to re-enter the apartment and looked inside the bathroom; Gintoki was with his head shoved into the toilet and a strong vomit smell coming out of it, you kicked his lower half gently, no response, he was passed out.

When you drink while you’re older than twenty God has no mercy on you, Gintoki was no exception, his head was throbbing, his mouth was dry, and his memory was gone. A faint smell of something being cooked outside was enough motivation to move a little, he sat up on his futon and grabbed his head to attempt reducing the pain in the back of it.

— Kagura? What are you cooking?

There was no response from the other side of the door, instead it parted open, allowing him to catch a glimpse of you with a tray between your hands, on it a bowl of rice and egg, and next to it a glass of water with a pair of aspirins.

— You’re up early, I just assumed you would go into a coma. — Gintoki’s eyes were still parted open, almost unable to believe them. While he seemed to space out you walked over to him and took a seat on the floor, right next to his futon. — Eat, or else your hangover won’t go away.

He wasn’t able to look away from you, not for a single second, with the same startled look on his face, you could see the ruby-colored eyes clearly, the same ones you had once compared to a dead fish’s, just swallowing your entire presence. It made you uncomfortable, no, it really made you nervous, so you looked away. He realized so and that broke his thoughts away.

— Sorry, sorry.

— What were you staring for?

— Nothing. — he sighed before rising his sight again, a small smile drawn on his face. — I was just thinking. Some old men sure are wise.