#bills have been stacking though...so its gonna be a bit

[madaraservingcunt]

[melancholyshadow]

sunday’s with a solider || b. barnes

part one 

summary: after a good date with bucky, (y/n) figures out who she’s really getting involved with. 

pairing: bucky barnes x female!librarian!reader 

warnings: kissing (??), swearing

an: im honestly speechless, the first part of this series has 150+ notes! i’m so happy you guys liked it! i’m debating on make this a three or a four-part series, please let me know what you think, but there will definitely be at least another part. one of the next, or the next, will include some spice, if you know what i mean. and who do y’all want me to write about next? im thinking mr. steve rogers. 

tags: @biixlv​

“Please tell me you’re a booth person and not a table person.” You chuckled, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Uh, yeah.” He laughed and rolled his eyes at you. He began walking towards one of the booths. You followed happily behind him, scooting into the opposite side of the booth. He pulled off his hat and both his gloves, setting them on the seat next to him. You propped your head on the palm of your hands, stopping yourself from looking at his metal hand, you weren’t even sure if it was metal.

The diner was one that had been in this town for, at least, forty years, and it definitely showed its age. It was trying to be a ‘retro diner’ in the eighties, so that aged it another thirty years. You grew up coming here with your family, the food was good, and you thought the inside was cute. The building was longer than it was wide, and the floor reminded you of a checkerboard. There was a long bar on the left, space for waiters to maneuver, and a long panel of metal enclosing the kitchen portion. Bright red bar stools were implemented into the floor, screwed into the floor, every two feet or so. On the right, were five or six booths, the same shade of red as the bar stools, big enough for about four people max. 

“Hey, sugar!” A familiar voice chirped to your left. Your eyes met a familiar pair of green ones, and a smile immediately filled your face. “Hey, Mabel!” You cooed, half-standing under the table and wrapping your arms around her small, fragile frame. She smelled like coffee and smoke, as she always did. The two of you pulled away, and her eyes instantly went to Bucky. “Who's your friend?” She asked, raising her eyebrows at you. “Mabel, this is my friend James. James, this is Mabel.” You explained, quickly introducing the two. He smiled at her and stuck out his ‘normal’ hand to give her a handshake, which she was very fond of. 

“Well, it is great to meet you, James! What can I get you to drink?” She had abandoned her notepad well before you were born, her ability to just remember someone’s order still amazed you. “Coffee please, no sugar or creamer please.” She smiled at him, and turned back towards me, “Regular for you, dear?” She asked, and you smiled, scrunching up your eyes and nose. She practically pranced away with a huge smile on her face. Bucky chuckled, pulling you from your thoughts, turning your head back towards him. His eyes were scanning over the faded laminated menu.

“How do you know Mabel?” He asked, looking up and unzipping his jacket, pulling it off his abdomen and onto the seat beside him, with his gloves and hat. “I grew up coming here with my family, she’s known me since I was in my mother’s stomach.” You explained, pointing to a picture above the bar. It was pretty faded after sitting in direct sunlight for over two decades, but it was a picture of Mabel, your mom, your dad, and you, you all had on party hats. “I had my first ten birthdays at this diner.” Bucky squinted his eyes and smiled once he made out the picture of baby you. 

“That’s awesome.” He said looking back at you. He opened his mouth to say something else, but Mabel cut him off. “Here is that coffee, Mr. James.” She slid the coffee in front of him, “And a regular for you, (Y/M/N).” She wiped her hands on her apron, “What can I get you two to eat?” Bucky looked at me, wanting me to order first. “We’ll both take the ‘67.” You smiled. She copied, “You got it, dearie.” And she walked away. Bucky cleared his throat, “Just trust me, Bucky,” You chuckled, placing your hands on top of his, “You’re gonna love it.” He paused for a moment, “I’ll hold you to that.” He winked at you. Did he just wink at you? Was he flirting? You immediately shot back at a wink and a flirty response, “Deal.”

The two of you ate and chatted for about an hour and a half. “Okay, you were right, that was the best food I’ve ever had.” He said, stacking your plates and utensils together, making it easier for Mabel when she took them off the table. “Can I get you two anything else?” She asked, picking up the two plates with ease. Bucky looked at you and you nodded a ‘no,’ and he looked back at Mabel, “No thank you, ma’am, but I will take the check.” He smiled. 

“No, Mabel, split the check pl-” But Mabel cut you off, “Sorry, dear, my hearing aid died, I can’t quite hear you. I’ll bring that check right to you, Mr. James.” Quickly walking away. “Bucky, no, I will pay for mine.” You insisted, going to reach for your purse. You looked around you in your seat in a panic, and then you remembered, it was in the saddlebag attached to his bike. He laughed at you as you came to that realization. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” You sighed, taking a sip of your drink. He simply shrugged and smiled, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. 

Once Mabel returned with the bill and Bucky’s card, the two of you stood, and he let you walk out first. It was a lot colder now, goosebumps layered your exposed arms, like a reflex you wrapped your arms around yourself. “Here, you take this.” He insisted, placing his heavy leather jacket on your shoulders. “No, I can't, you're gonna get cold too.” You began to shrug it off, but he placed his hands on your shoulders, stopping you. “I’ll be fine.” He smirked at you, his hands lingering for a little longer than normal. 

“Ready?” He asked as he straddled his bike, once more. You stuck your arms through the long sleeves, which went way past your fingertips. You took your seat behind him, and he handed you the helmet, and you slid it over your head. Similar to earlier, you snaked your arms around him, clasping your hands together, and resting around his mid-abdomen. His hands, once again, landed on your thighs, pulling you even closer to him, making a different type of goosebumps cover your arms. 

“Hang on tight, doll.” He said as the bike came to life. You were so glad you were wearing a helmet, so he couldn’t see the brush creep onto your cheeks. As you two rode, he used his prosthetic hand to steer the bike and kept his flesh hand on your knee the entire time. The sky had ditched the orange, pink, and red hues and was now littered in stars and moonlight. You didn’t want this to end, you felt like you could stay there for hours, but the library came into view a lot sooner than you wanted it to. 

The next day came and you got excited, as always, to see Bucky. Today was a little different though, after your date last night. Wait, was that even a date? It had to be, right? I mean he paid and flirted with you. 

“Bucky, why do you come in here every day?” You asked, peering at him over the book in your hands. He didn’t move for a second, you assumed he was finishing the sentence he was reading. “Well, all the libraries in New York City are crowded and noisy.” He explained, “So when I found this place while scoping out new libraries, even though it is quite a distance, I knew this place was it for me.” He smiled at you. “At least that was the reason initially.” He muttered, picking his book back up. 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” You set your book down this time, squinting your eyes at him, and propping your head up on your hands. “Well obviously, I now come back because the shitty coffee you offer is to die for.” He said sarcastically. You gasped and threw one of your pens at him, bouncing off his chest and onto the floor. He broke out into a fit of laughter, and you soon followed. 

“No, but now I come back to hang out with you.” He admitted to you, avoiding your stare. “Oh that so sweet…” You started, “...Dork.” Throwing another pen at him, this time hitting the bill of his hat. Bucky had come in every day for a little over a month now and missed not a single Sunday. “Hey (Y/F/N)?” Bucky asked, looking back up from his book. Your eyes didn’t leave the pages of your book, but you answered, “Yes, Buck?” You asked back, flipping the page. 

“I won’t be here tomorrow, and for a couple days after that.” When the words left his lips, a wave of sadness washed over you. Your lips twisted into a pout, looking towards him. “Why?” You asked, dragging out the word. “I have some obligations.” You rolled your eyes at him, “Okay, Mr. Mysterious.” You scoffed, feeling a bit upset. How long had he known? Why was he just now telling you? “I’m gonna be so bored without you.” You whined, leaning back in your chair with a huff. 

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” 

It was closing time now, and as usual, Bucky walked you to your car. “You better bring me a souvenir from wherever you’re going.” You joked, tossing your purse into the passenger seat, and turning back towards Bucky. “Would you prefer a T-shirt? Maybe some socks? How about a shot glass?” He joked back, leaning against the side of your car. “Surprise me.” You laughed, pushing his chest. 

As you went to pull away from his chest, his flesh hand wrapped around your wrist, softly. He placed it back on his chest, and his metal hand went to your hip, pulling you closer to him. The only distance between both of your chest was being occupied by your hand. You swore up and down that he could hear your heartbeat, but you were soon reassured because you could feel his heartbeat racing just as much as yours was. Bucky glanced down at your lips, and you did the same. 

You closed the space between your lips, and without thinking your eyes fluttered closed, taking in everything happening over your entire body. His lips were soft, tasting like coffee and mint. The growing stubble on his chin rubbed against the softness of your cheeks. His flesh hand was warm around your wrist, gripping it softly, he never wanted to hurt you. But the gestures with his metal hand were very different. It was leaving a cool tingling sensation against the small patch of exposed skin, and his grip was tighter, pushing you impossibly closer to him. You took your free hand, and placed it on his face, thumb running over his cheek, and your other four fingers resting on his neck. 

After what feels like minutes, but was probably only about thirty seconds, you pulled away from him. Reluctantly, of course. The two of you just stood there, not moving, relishing at the moment for as long as you could. “You know I meant to surprise me souvenir-wise, right?” You chuckled, messing with the hair on the nape of his neck. “Oh okay, we can just never do that again.” He sighed, messing with you. 

“No, no, we can definitely do that again.”

~

It was the first Sunday without Bucky in a while, he had been gone for almost a week now, you assumed working on his ‘obligations.’ You had been keeping yourself busy with a new book series, one that Bucky actually recommended to you. But today would be full of dusting, reorganizing, putting away some newer books, and vacuuming. It was probably around 3:30 in the afternoon, and you were dusting the large bay windows by the front of the store. 

You could feel the music moving through your body, making it impossible for you not to dance, at least just a little wiggle. You swayed your hips, the music taking over, singing into the duster like a microphone. Your free hand ran up the side of your body, from your thigh all the way up to your face. You threw your arm up over your head, and prancing around the tables, shifting the duster from a microphone to an electric guitar. When the song was finally over, and you were very much out of breath, you made your way back to the window. And when you did so, your heart dropped to your toes. There was a man standing on the opposite side of the window, watching you. 

It only took a few seconds for your fear to turn into relief. It was Bucky. You dashed to the left towards the door, unlocking the door, and running out to greet him. Practically leaping towards him, you wrapped both arms around his neck, and his arms snaked around your waist. After a few moments of swaying and just taking in his presence, you pulled away. He was smiling widely, “I didn’t mean to end your concert so soon, I was enjoying it.” Adding a chuckle. Your face blushed, and you put your hand over your eyes, peeking at him through your middle and ring finger, “Did you see the whole thing?” You asked, dreading his answer. “The whole thing.”

The two of you walked back inside, the music still playing loudly. There was a slow song playing, and you grabbed your phone to turn it down, but Bucky stopped you. “Wanna dance?” He asked, putting his hand out for you to grab. You smiled, happily taking it. He pulled your chest against his. Your arms rest on his shoulders, your fingers loosely interlocked. Both hands on your hips, both of you just rocking side to side. The music wasn’t even registering in your brain, you were just focusing on this moment with him. 

“I remember when this song came out.” He said softly. You cocked your eyebrow at him, “Didn’t this song come out in the fifties?” You asked confused, what did he mean by that? “So you really don’t know who I am, huh?” The question caught you off-guard, it sounded very egotistical. “No..?” You asked more like a question. And that’s when he explained everything, making a very long story very short. He explained the arm, the serum, and the ‘obligations.’ 

“You’re a fucking Avenger?” You asked, head in your hands, elbows on your knee. “Well, technically I’ve never been asked to be one, but kind of.” His hand on your back, rubbing it in small circles. “So you’re the James Buchanan Barnes from the Captain America museum?” He nodded. Everything kind of flooded back to your memory, you knew you heard the nickname “Bucky” before, and you knew he looked somewhat familiar, but you assumed he just looked kinda similar to an actor or something. 

It was silent for a good five minutes, but Bucky broke it. “Hey, guess what?” He asked, trying to hide the upturn of his lips. What now? Was he gonna break some more news to you? Was he also part alien? “Hmm?” That was all you said, running your fingers through your hair. He moved his hand to reach into his backpack and pulled out a book, sliding it towards you. 

“Russian Urban Legends.” You read the title, quickly flipping through the book with your thumb. “Flip to page 48, and tell me what it says.” He said, propping his head upon his hands. You did as he said and landed on page forty-eight. “The Winter Soldier.” You read the words written in a bright red font, the page decorated in grainy photos and ridiculously cheesy government lettering and drawings. Bucky looked at you, prompting you to continue. 

“A ghost story or a real threat?”

[thepartyresponsible]

For the wip ask (they all sound very interesting ngl it was hard to pick just one!) LostSteve

lost steve! yeah, so. what if shield defrosted captain america, and he broke out and just...kept running? what if they lost him? what if he ended up hiding out in tony’s tower, away from the fight for long enough to get his feet underneath him?

this fic is mostly about steve and tony finding each other first, so they can form the heart of the avengers, instead of the fault line that splits the team in half. here’s the first part of it.

                                                          —  

There’s an alert from Nick Fury that Tony chooses to ignore, for the sake of his convenience and Fury’s ongoing character growth. JARVIS announces its arrival and then diligently reminds Tony about the message twice before Tony tells him to mute it until morning.

“If it’s really that important,” he says, “they’ll just send someone to break in anyway.”

Which is why, on some level, he’s not at all surprised to find a man sitting on a couch in his penthouse twenty-seven hours later. He will admit to being caught somewhat off-guard by the specifics of the situation, though, because Steve Rogers has been dead for longer than Tony’s been alive.

“Zombie?” Tony asks. “Hallucination? Oh, clone? Are you a clone?”

Steve Rogers looks at him the way people look at wax sculptures. Like he’s interested in the details of the creation in front of him, but doesn’t believe for a second that what he’s looking at is real. “Mr. Stark,” he says, politely. His voice is deeper than Tony would’ve guessed.

“Robot,” Tony theorizes. “Sexbot? Updated Trojan Horse? If I let you inside me, are you gonna--”

The man’s brow furrows, and his mouth twists down, and his eyes are too sad for circuitry. No one would code that kind of grief.

Tony pauses for a moment, rocks forward onto the balls of his feet and then back onto his heels. He studies this intruder carefully. Someone sent him a Steve Rogers lookalike in a white t-shirt and stained khakis. He’s hale and healthy, built like a god, but his feet are bare and dirty.

Bloody, too. There are bloody footprints on the carpet.

“Wait,” Tony says. “Wait. Who the hell are you?”

There’s a long beat of silence. The man on his couch just stares at him, eyes tracing over Tony’s face, his shoulders, looking at him like he’s starving for something. He’s quiet and small, somehow, in a way that doesn’t relate at all to the amount of space his body takes up.

And then he stands, light and graceful on his bloody feet. His jaw tightens, and his shoulders pull up, and he’s an American Hero, suddenly and decisively, like he’s made some kind of choice about it.

“Mr. Stark,” he says, again, “I’m Captain America.”

And he is, Tony thinks. The same way that he’s Iron Man. Because once you put on that kind of armor, whatever else you used to be is irrelevant.

                                                           —

He’s Captain America, and he’s back from the dead. SHIELD had him and lost him, and Nick Fury wants Tony to go looking for him. That’s the message he left with JARVIS over a day ago. And Tony can’t imagine he was the first name on their list, which means Steve Rogers has been alone in the wrong century for an unknown but considerable amount of time.

“Hey,” he says, calling out from where he’s slouched against the kitchen island, watching Captain America dutifully eat through every scrap of leftovers Tony had in the fridge. “How long have you been here?”

“I was born here,” he says, through a mouthful of fried rice that he hides behind a napkin. He chews, swallows, and jabs his fork over Tony’s shoulder. “In Brooklyn.”

Tony knew that. Of course he knew that. He memorized everything about Steve Rogers back when he thought he could become enough like him to make Howard consider him worthwhile. “No, I mean,” he says, waving his hands, “in this century. How long have you been--- Jesus. I dunno. Awake? Aware? Unfrosted flakes?”

Steve blinks at him. He stares for a second and then ducks his head, stirs his fork through the open takeout box in front of him. “Spent a couple days,” he says. “Looking around.”

Looking around. Steve Rogers, unwitting time-traveler, barefoot in New York. What had he been looking for? Why did he come here?

“Why didn’t you get any shoes?” Tony asks, instead of any of the more complicated questions.

Steve tucks his feet under his chair. He washed them half an hour or so back, walking uneasily into the bathroom Tony showed him and then locking the door behind him, like he thought Tony was some kind of pervert who would bodyslam through the door to catch a glimpse of him sudsing up his bare ankles.

“Didn’t have any money,” he says, surprisingly mulish about it.

“You couldn’t smash and grab a pair of Sketchers?” Tony shakes his head. “If you get lockjaw, you’re gonna have to tell Fury you caught it from somewhere else. Fuck’s sake, when was your last tetanus booster? 1943?”

He shrugs. He doesn’t seem concerned. He’s busy eating his way through enough calories to keep your average winter-starved grizzly happy.

It’s hungry work, coming back from the dead. Tony remembers the unholy things he would’ve done for a cheeseburger.

“Didn’t have any money,” he repeats, scraping his fork around the sides of the takeout box, diligent and serious, like it’s the very last scrap of food he’ll ever get.

Tony clears his throat, hip-checks the counter to heave himself to standing. “I’ll get you some cash.”

                                                           —

There’s a weird moment, when Tony gives him the money. It’s just a few hundred dollars. He’s not Tony’s problem, not his project raised from the dead, but he still doesn’t want to give Steve Rogers the means to get himself truly lost in a world he doesn’t know.

Five hundred dollars will get him some food and somewhere to sleep for a few days, but it won’t get him far enough out of SHIELD’s orbit to get himself in trouble.

He looks up when Tony gets close. There’s a well-worn wariness in his eyes. He watches him the way a dog from a bad home might watch him through the bars of the shelter’s kennel. Resigned instead of hopeful, like he knows how this goes, like he knows he can survive it.

“Here,” Tony says. He leaves the money two chairs away from him, within easy grabbing distance. “And I have shoes your size, if you want to borrow them.”

“I don’t need that,” Rogers says, pointing at the money.

Tony lets his mouth tip up sideways, smirks like this is the part of the whole situation he finds truly unbelievable. “You’re going to come into my house,” he says, “uninvited, unannounced, and then you’re going to refuse to accept my hospitality? Rogers, what would your mother think?”

There’s a stall point in Roger’s stare, like watching a bird fly into a window. There’s a moment, right around the word mother, when those blue eyes blank out, and Tony’s just staring into empty space.

“She didn’t,” he says, and it’s fascinating. He’s stitching himself up right here at Tony’s dining table. Tony can practically see it happening, vertebrae stacking up, pulling him taunt like a needle tugging on a thread. “She never liked charity.”

Tony is familiar with pride. He has something of an overabundance himself, although he comes by it honestly. He knows hurt pride hates an audience, so he looks away.

“I imagine she hated the idea of you starving, too,” Tony says. “Probably worked very hard to make sure that didn’t happen. Going to waste all her work now, Rogers? Seems ungrateful.”

He’s half-taunting by the end of it. He’s not sure why. He finds weak points like a magnet finds iron. Sometimes he doesn’t even know what he’s pulling on until after he’s accidentally ripped out someone’s heart. It’s not one of the traits he’s proud of, but, like his pride, he knows where it came from.

Rogers glares at him, but he hooks the next takeout container over anyway.

“I’ll get those shoes,” Tony says. JARVIS has already measured; Rhodey left some boots that should fit.

Steve doesn’t say anything, but, when Tony comes back, the money is gone, and so is he.

                                                           —

Tony doesn’t tell Fury a damn thing. If Fury lost a national icon, that’s his problem. And anyway, Tony’s still not completely convinced that the blonde who materialized in his penthouse was actually Steve Rogers and not some kind of really confused, really well-built homeless man. Or a stripper.

Tony’s never actually met a stripper who showed up in khakis, refused to disrobe, and then ate ten pounds of takeout before silently disappearing, but he’d be willing to pay another five hundred dollars for a repeat performance.

He figures out how the maybe-Steve got into his penthouse. He upgrades the security, but he tells JARVIS to let him in if he ever comes back. He’s not sure what he’s hoping for, but he’s too curious to lock him out.

                                                           —

There’s a bit of nothing that kicks off in New York, some Hammer tech that goes haywire. Tony puts it down like the cheap knockoff that it is, but he gets stuck in debrief with Phil Coulson afterwards, because he’s not quite quick enough to abandon the scene after the fight’s over. In his defense, he was holding a car above a partially-trapped bicyclist, and Coulson caught him before the EMTs could finish disentangling her.

He makes it back to the Tower after an hour of mostly-wasted time. Steve Rogers is sitting at his dining table. Tony bites back the ludicrous urge to “honey, I’m home!” him.

“Hey,” he says instead, as he steps in from the balcony, stripped down to the skintight suit he wears under the armor. He didn’t expect company. “You get something to eat?”

Steve seems somehow offended by the question. “I didn’t break in here and steal anything,” he says.

“Okay,” Tony says, moving past him. “Well, that’s a gold star and an empty stomach for you, Rogers. We’re all very proud.”

“It’s not my food,” Steve tells him. If he had hackles, they’d be raised. Tony wants to pat him on the head, but only because he’s always had a sort of neurotic tendency to see how hard people bite before he decides whether to trust them.

“Yeah, and a twenty-dollar grocery bill is really gonna break me,” Tony says. He takes a smoothie out of the freezer. “You want pizza? I’m gonna order pizza.”

Steve stares at him for a long moment before he shrugs. “I could eat,” he says.

“Great,” Tony says. He has JARVIS order three pizzas, because he wants at least half of one for himself, and Steve Rogers is a human garbage disposal.

Steve takes a shower while they’re waiting. He asks first, which Tony supposes is the polite thing to do, and he takes his backpack with him, like he’s worried Tony’s going to steal his wallet.

“You know,” Tony says, when Steve remerges, wearing another knockout set of some grandpa’s Goodwill khakis and button-down shirt, “you keep showing up like this, and it’s gonna get harder for me to lie to Fury about having no idea where you are.”

Steve flips open a pizza box and carefully selects a slice. His hair is wet and neatly combed back from his face. He’s handsome from a distance but damn near devastating at close range. Tony takes another bite of pizza, hopes it’ll help swallow back the urge to sink a few grand into war bonds.

“Fury’s the guy with the eyepatch?” Steve doesn’t settle into a seat. He takes his pizza and wanders over to the window, stares out at the skyline.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Tony says.

Steve makes a face. Tony can see it, dulled and faded, in the reflection on the glass. “He’s persistent,” he says, slowly. Not like it’s a compliment.

“Yeah,” Tony says, again, “that’s him.��

Steve doesn’t say anything else. Tony finishes his slice of pizza, eats another one. There’s an ache in his right shoulder from being wrenched around by Hammer’s ridiculous creation, and he should be icing it, but he doesn’t want to. Not with Steve Rogers here.

He’s never liked looking human in front of an audience. His problem has always been that he couldn’t figure out how to stop. At least, not until he built his armor.

Steve comes back when he’s out of pizza. He’s catlike in his wariness, in the way he seems pissed at Tony for daring to exist in his proximity.

“That fight,” he says, apropos of approximately nothing at all. “Earlier.”

“Oh,” Tony says, rising out of his chair and moving toward the bar, giving Steve the room to loom over the pizza like he’s defending his kill. “You see that on the news?”

“Saw it on the street,” Steve says. “Heard the screams.”

Heard the screams and came running. So he’s still in the hero business. Fury will be happy to hear it.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed,” Steve tells him. He sounds angry about it. At Tony, not the situation. “Where’s your backup?”

“Backup,” Tony repeats. “Cap, c’mon. Read a newspaper. I work alone.”

Steve Rogers looks up from his pizza perusal just long enough to roll his eyes. It should feel like a slap across the face, and maybe it does. However it feels, Tony likes it. Wants more of it. There’s always been something grounding in being dismissed, like Tony’s never known where he stands until someone shows him how he doesn’t measure up.

“Is that supposed to be impressive?” Steve asks. “Men who work alone die alone, Stark. And they’re not very effective when they do.”

Tony knows he’s meant to be offended. He is, probably. But he couldn’t bite back his smile for anything. “I think I liked you better when you called me ‘Mr. Stark.’”

“Seems to me,” Steve says, “you want everyone to call you Iron Man these days.”

“Oh Captain, my Captain,” Tony says, “surely they had that line about glass houses in the ‘40’s?”

Steve frowns at him. “I never asked anyone to call me Captain America.”

“And yet,” Tony says, tipping a bottle of whiskey his direction, “that’s how to introduced yourself to me.”

Steve gives him a look like he thinks Tony’s being deliberately obtuse. “That’s who I am,” he says.

Tony rolls his eyes and flips a tumbler right side up. “But when I start using a stage name,” he says, “suddenly I’m a narcissistic asshole who doesn’t--”

“Do you think,” Steve says, looming up suddenly, shifting gears like something mechanical, going battle-ready with more decisiveness than a faceplate clicking down, “that anybody spent years, spent—I don’t know. Millions of dollars? Do you think anybody did that for Steve Rogers?”

Tony’s caught wrong-footed. He did it again. Drilled until he found the nerve, cut until he broke the skin.

“I think you don’t get one without the other,” Tony says, trying now to soothe. But he’s not very good at it. His instincts don’t run this direction. His whole life, the only things he could ever repair were machines.

Steve shakes his head. He steps away from the pizza. He looks around, eyes zeroing in on his backpack.

“Stay here,” Tony says, sidling out from behind the bar, whiskey now in hand.

Steve straightens up like a cobra, like he’s going to spit venom in Tony’s face. Tony wants to put his mouth on him, which is probably only half because he’s always been hellbent on his own destruction. The other half is that Steve Rogers is beautiful like something made in a lab for aesthetics alone, carefully designed for universal appeal. Tony likes to tell himself he has a taste for the exclusive, but the reality has always been he wants exactly what everyone else does.

“You don’t want SHIELD to find you,” Tony says, “then stay here. Trust me, this is the last place they’d think to look.”

He’s not standing between Steve and the exit. He was careful about that. Whatever SHIELD might think about him, he doesn’t have a death wish. And also, when he’s thinking about it, he’s not usually deliberately an asshole. It’s just that, most of the time, he’s not thinking about it.

“Why should I trust you?” Steve asks.

Tony shrugs. Hell, he has no idea. “Why’d you come here? The first time. When SHIELD lost you, you came here. Why?”

“I went home,” Steve says, argumentative, all squared shoulders and tight jaw. “I went to Brooklyn. But it wasn’t there anymore. None of it was—I couldn’t find…”

He trails off, shakes his head, sharp and agitated, a horse bothered by a fly. It’s hard to look in his eyes. There’s something in them that Tony doesn’t want to see. It’s like watching a statue bleed.

“I heard there was still a Stark in New York,” Steve says. “I read about you. I thought maybe you’d--”

“You thought I’d be like Howard,” Tony finishes for him. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“I thought you’d be like me,” Steve says, which doesn’t make any sense at all.

“You,” Tony says. And then, a little helplessly, “What?”

Steve looks away. He shrugs, looks back. “I saw the suit,” he says. “On the news. I saw what it can do. I didn’t think--- things have advanced a lot. I didn’t understand. I thought Howard had…”

Tony squints at him. “You thought Howard did a Rebirth redux and tested it on his kid?”

“I thought a lot of things,” Steve says, snappy. “It was a very confusing couple of days.”

Tony can imagine that it was. “So you thought I was Rebirthed, and you wanted--”

“I didn’t want anything,” Steve says, and there’s that flash of exposed nerve again, that look like a sinkhole in the backs of his eyes. “That’s not the point.”

Tony takes a sip of his whiskey. It settles, warm and sweet, into his stomach.

I didn’t want anything.

I shouldn’t be alive, unless it’s for a reason.

Tony holds the tumbler out. Steve needs the warmth more than he does. “Here,” he says.

Steve takes it, seemingly on reflex. “I can’t get drunk,” he says.

“Well,” Tony says, circling back toward the bar, “not with that attitude.”

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Chapter 5

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

They’re sitting in the car outside her mother’s house, and she’s stalling.

“Are we going inside?” Ethan asks with a confused smile, and she nods wearily.

She’s been dreading telling her family. Well, not her mother; Mom will be thrilled, as will Bill. Charlie will act appropriately happy but doesn’t actually care that much. But Missy….Missy will see right through her. She always does.

They exit the car and make their way to the front porch, her stomach twisting in her gut all the way. Ethan knocks, casting her concerned glances intermittently. She knows she’s not playing the part of “recently engaged” very well. She’s told Ethan that it’s just nerves, and that she hates making big announcements, which is true. She’s still trying to convince herself that’s all it is.

The door swings open and Charlie greets them with smiles and quick hugs, and they make their way to the kitchen where Mom is still finishing up dinner.

“Grab some wine and take a seat,” she directs them as they each kiss her on the cheek, “Missy should be here any minute.”

She pours herself a very full glass of wine after asking Ethan if he can drive home, then plants herself in an armchair that only seats one. She’s been craving personal space lately.

Ten minutes later, Missy breezes in the door, giving Dana a skeptical glance; leave it to Missy to immediately pick up on something being off. They better get this over with soon.

They all sit down and say grace. Missy holds her left hand and she can feel the moment her fingers make contact with the ring. Missy yanks on her arm and gives her wide eyes as everyone else at the table thanks the lord for their daily bread. Dana glances at her briefly and then looks away. It will all be out in the open momentarily.

“Before we dig into this lovely meal Mom has prepared for us,” Ethan begins, “Dana and I have some news to share.”

Oh god, here it comes. Maybe the huge glass of wine was a bad idea.

“Am I gonna be an uncle, D?!” Charlie says excitedly, and both she and Maggie shoot him an unamused glare.

“Not just yet, Charlie,” Ethan says with a cautious smile. “Dana and I got engaged. We’re getting married!”

Dana holds up her left hand with a thin smile, and Maggie and Charlie both provide appropriately big, happy reactions complete with hugs and congratulatory slaps on the back. Missy raises her eyebrows and looks at her baby sister with a bemused expression.

“Oh, this is such happy news, I wish your father could be here,” Maggie says, clutching her hand to her chest. “We’ll have to call Bill and Tara after dinner.”

Dana forces bites of pot roast down her throat and avoids her sister’s eye for the following twenty minutes, then leaves Ethan and her mother to share the news with Bill as she escapes to the back porch. Charlie, as usual, finds his way to the couch with a beer.

She’s sitting on the steps of the porch, working on her second glass of wine, when she hears the creak of the screen door behind her. She doesn't need to look to know that it’s Missy; she can hear the swish of her flowy skirt and the jangle of her stacked bracelets. Missy sits down beside her and they are quiet for a few minutes, the dark night illuminated by a waxing crescent moon.

“Is this really what you want, Sis?” Missy asks in a tone that’s soft and concerned.

“Of course, Missy. Ethan and I have been talking about getting married for years,” she says, hoping it sounds more convincing than it feels.

“I know. But…” she trails off and sighs.

“But what?” Dana prods her.

“Look, Sis, Ethan is great. I love him, and he’ll make a great husband. I’m just not sure he’s the right one for you.” Dana can feel her sister looking at her in the dim light, but keeps her eyes on the blooming hydrangea bush at the bottom of the stairs.

“He’s a great guy, Missy. He’s kind, and generous, and he has a stable job. He treats me really well. There’s no reason NOT to marry him,” she offers, taking a big gulp of her wine. “Dad loved him, he’d be so happy to know we got married,” she adds.

Missy scoffs. “Two years underground and you’re still trying to please Dad?”

“He was cremated, Missy,” she replies deadpan, avoiding the point.

“Okay, so two years underwater, then. Doesn’t change the fact that Dad liking him isn’t a reason to marry someone. Neither is them being great husband material. The only reason to marry someone is because you want to marry them. Do you want to marry Ethan?” She can feel Missy’s eyes on her face.

“Yes,” she says in a weak voice, unwilling to elaborate.

Missy sighs. “Okay, if this is what you want, I’ll be here to help you in whatever way you need. But if you change your mind-”

“-I’m not going to change my mind, Missy,” she cuts her off.

“Well,” Missy continues, “whatever happens, I’ll be here. Thick and thin, right?”

Dana looks at her sister then, and smiles as they clasp hands. “Thick and thin.”

&&

The following week, she takes herself out for Sunday afternoon coffee to one of her favorite places near the apartment. She likes to go out alone for coffee or lunch sometimes, just to have some space to think. Lately, she’s been needing a lot of it. The cafe is bustling with the after-church crowd, which makes her feel guilty for not going to mass with her mother. It’s difficult to talk to Mom right now; all she wants to do is talk about the wedding, and that’s the last thing Dana wants to discuss. Ethan wants to get married soon, this fall, and the whole thing is so overwhelming she shuts down every time they try to talk to her about it. She wishes she could pause life for a while, until she can sort out her feelings.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she hears a familiar voice call from beside her, and she looks up to see Mulder, dressed casually in jeans and a grey T-shirt.

She smiles reflexively, the first time she’s felt a real smile tug at her lips in a week or more.

“Mulder, hi,” she says, genuinely pleased to see him. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, this place is right near my dealer’s house,” he responds, and flashes her that boyish grin at her shocked expression. “I was actually just checking out a record store around the corner and decided to grab some coffee. How are you?” The question feels so real, like he actually wants to know how she is. She doesn’t want him to leave.

“I’m well, would you like to sit down?” she says as she gestures to the empty seat across from her, pulling her hand back when she realizes that he’ll likely notice her ring. She surreptitiously slips it off her finger and tucks it into her pants pocket.

He sits, and she can’t help but take in the way his shirt hugs his broad shoulders, and the hint of defined pectorals underneath. He is a seriously good-looking man.

“So, whatcha been up to?” He asks, taking a sip from his to-go cup.

She should tell him the happy news that she’s gotten engaged, but she very much doesn’t want to.

“Not much, just cutting up dead bodies and teaching others how to do the same,” she responds dryly.

“Slicin’ and dicin’,” he says with a nod, and she feels a sense of relief at being able to make such a crass joke to someone who understands the kind of work she does.

“Exactly. How about you, working on anything interesting?” she asks, and never has a social nicety been more genuine.

“That depends on your definition of interesting, I suppose,” he begins, “we’ve got the face mutilator, the acid thrower, and the super-stabber, who you’re familiar with.”

“Quite the line up,” she retorts.

“I realize I didn’t get the chance to ask how you ended up at the Academy,” he inquires.

“Oh, um I was actually recruited out of medical school,” she replies, taking a sip of her coffee.

His eyebrows jump and he leans forward a bit. “You’re a doctor, then?” he asks, and she gauges only that he’s impressed, not surprised, which is a nice change of pace. People don’t seem to realize that it’s not a compliment to express disbelief that she, of all people, would be a medical doctor.

“Mmhmm, all pathologists are trained medical doctors,” she confirms with a nod.

“Your parents must be very proud,” he offers, and she makes a face.

“Not exactly. My father actually passed away a couple years ago, but he was less than pleased with my decision not to pursue medicine as a career. My mom is moderately more supportive, thankfully.”

She catches his eye and is surprised by the intensity of the look he’s giving her.

“I’m sorry to hear about your father,” he says as though he knew the man, and it catches her off guard a bit. She changes the subject.

“What about the X files, anything interesting happening there?”

“Well, no, given that they don’t exist anymore. You wanna hear about an old one I investigated?”

She nods emphatically.

“There was this team of researchers up in Icy Cape, Alaska. They were geophysicists, drilling ice core samples. They’d been up there a few weeks when there was an odd video communication received from one of the research team members saying “we are not who we are” before he shot himself in the head, then all communication went dark.”

“What happened to them?” Scully asks, leaning towards him. She’s immediately drawn in.

“Well, that’s what we went up there to find out; myself a physician, toxicologist and a geologist. When we got there, the whole crew was dead, only a dog that belonged to one of them survived. He appeared to be rabid, and he attacked me and our pilot. When we examined the dog, he had these black nodules on his skin.”

“That sounds like a symptom of bubonic plague,” Scully offers.

“That’s what Dr. Hodge thought too. Anyway, the pilot ended up getting infected as well, and we had to restrain him and remove this worm-thing from his neck. He died immediately after we removed it.”

“A worm-thing?” Scully asks, “what was it?”

“I’m still not entirely sure. The geologist found an ice core sample that was probably over 250,000 years old, and I think the worm came from the ice. Some kind of prehistoric parasite that overtakes its host. We eventually figured out that to kill it, you have to introduce a second worm into the host, and they’ll destroy each other.”

“Why haven’t I ever heard about this? It seems like the kind of discovery that would make the news, at least in the science community,” her mind is reeling, now with excitement.

“Well, that’s the thing. After we were evacuated, they destroyed the drill site and all the evidence.”

“They?” she inquires. “Who is ‘they’?”

Mulder smiles knowingly and she has the overwhelming urge to touch him.

“That’s the million dollar question, Scully. That’s what the X files sought to answer. Who, or what, is behind the mass coverup of information that would prove the existence of extraterrestrial life?” He says it so casually, like it’s the most irrefutable fact in the world instead of some half-cocked conspiracy theory.

“Huh,” she sits back in her chair. “Are there a lot of cases like that one? In the X files?”

Mulder’s mouth quirks, and she can tell that he’s pleased by her interest in his old work.

“Hundreds, though I only have about fifty in my possession. I took the juiciest ones, of course.”

“What else is there? Tell me about another one,” she asks unabashedly. She’s fascinated.

Mulder looks at his watch and makes a face. “I wish I could, but I have a prior engagement. I have them stored at my apartment, I could show you sometime, if you’d like. Do you like cats?”

Her eyebrows lift. “Is there an X file about cats?” she asks, and he laughs.

“No. Well, actually yes, but I’m asking because I have a cat. You aren’t allergic, are you?”

“Oh, no,” she says as she feels her cheeks warm.

He reaches into his wallet and hands her his business card. “Give me a call, or shoot me an email. I’ll show you what the FBI doesn’t want you to see,” he punctuates this with a wag of his eyebrows as he stands. “It was really good to see you, Scully,” he says with an earnest look, those eyes seemingly seeing right through her.

She swallows hard. “You too, Mulder,” she replies, and watches him walk out the cafe door.

She looks down at the business card in her hands:

Fox W. Mulder

Criminal Behavioral Analyst

Behavioral Science Unit

She wonders what the W stands for. She wonders why she cares.

[thiswasinevitableid]

52 or 41 for the meet ugly? sternclay, nsfw if thats chill

Here it is!

52. you think I’m leering at you in the gym but really I’m studying your form and trying to learn how to make mine better Sternclay NSFW

This is the toughest part of Joseph’s workout, so he could do without the audience.

He first noticed the guy during his turn at the squat rack; taller than him, in a grey t-shirt and black shorts that show he has muscle to spare, with brown eyes that were on Joseph’s ass whenever he looked away. Were Joseph not in the middle of the kettlebell burpees sequence, he might even spare a glance of his own to see how he fills out the front of his shorts, but he’s tired and he’s been dealing with behind the back stares all day.

When he’s done, he takes a final look over his shoulder to see the guy still staring at him. Joseph locks eyes, watches his face flood with guilt as he becomes very focused on his shoes. He continues studying them, as if holding still might keep Joseph from coming closer.

“Okay, I sense you’re new here, so I’ll be polite: everyone checks people out at the gym now and then. But the rule is you don’t do it so fucking brazenly the other person notices.”

“I, uh, I wasn’t-”

“I counted you staring ten separate times, even when your workout had you facing away from me.” He crosses his arms, annoyed that the man has the gall to deny his blatant ogling.

“I, uh, I was studying your form” the newcomer rubs his wrist, sheepish, “I’m kinda new to, like, formal workout stuff, and you clearly know your shit, so I was trying to use you to figure out how to do my circuit without fucking up my spine.”

Joseph rolls his eyes; that’s the first lie anyone tells when they get called out for staring.

“I’m serious!” The man has the audacity to look perturbed. Joseph has zero interest in an argument but every desire to call his bluff.

“Well, if that’s the case, if we cross paths again you’re welcome to join me and I can give you pointers.”

With that, he heads towards the locker rooms. He doesn’t feel eyes on him once the whole walk there.

---------------------------------------------

“Hey.”

Joseph looks up from setting his fitbit to see his not-so-subtle admirer beside him. The taller man smirks, “you didn’t think I’d take you up on it, did you?”

“No. But I’m not about to go back on my offer. Or modify my work out if you join me. Make your choice accordingly.”

“Okay. What’s first?” His smile is friendly, but there’s a challenge in it. Joseph, who's been bored the entire day, is more than ready to rise to it.

“Jump rope. Nine minutes total.”

They find a spare rope for the other man, but he keeps getting his right foot caught.

“Drop your elbows some, when they’re too high it’s easier for the rope to catch.”

“Oh, thanks.”

His new gym buddy is winded when they’re done, but follows him eagerly over to the mats for his core workout. He’s better at that, though Joseph still has to correct the position of his back the first time. They move through cardio, weights, and cool down with no conversation that isn’t directly related to body position or technique. By the end, the newcomer is soaked with sweat. And..smiling?

“That was fucking brutal. Can we do it again some time?”

If you, um, really want to?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Joseph smiles back, “I’m here every day after work. So you can come find me…”

“Barclay” the taller man fills in his unasked question.

“Joseph. Oh, and try to get some shoes with better traction soon. You’ll have an easier time.”

---------------------------------------------

“You okay there?” Barclay looks at Joseph from the treadmill on his left, “you seem kinda low energy today.”

“I ate too small a lunch.” He hits the stop button, walks as the belt slows, “I’ll be fine once I fish my power bar out of my glovebox on the way home.”

“Or you could, uh, you could come get dinner with me? There’s a great spot two blocks from here; it’s my favorite stop after you put me through my paces.”

Joseph thinks about downing a protein shake while wandering his empty apartment.

“That sounds great.”

Barclay leads him to a diner, all yellow lights and red pleather. His friend orders a stack of waffles and fried eggs (“I’m not a big fan of syrup”) while he opts for a french dip and, on Barclay’s recommendation, a chocolate malt. When the server asks if it’s one bill or two, Barclay pays for both of them.

“Least I can do in exchange for the free personal training you’re giving me.”

“It’s not like I mind” Joseph offers him access to his french fries, “I like working out with you. I’ve, um, never had a gym buddy before. UP agents are considered weirdos at work, I’m considered odd for one of them, and, well, you’ve done my workout; it intimidates some people.”

Barclay looks at him across the formica, beard still a bit mussed from drying it after his shower, “Yo--uh, I mean, it is pretty intimidating. But like, in a good way. The kind that makes you wanna push yourself.”

Joseph allows himself a flirtatious smile, “I’m glad you appreciate it.”

-----------------------

Barclay: gonna miss workout tomorrow. Got a date. Promise I’ll let you work me twice as hard on Friday.

J.S: Have fun. And you know I will, big guy.

Joseph slips his earbuds in; he’s gotten so used to their easy conversation that his best of the ‘00s playlist is jarring in it’s place. But he falls into his rhythm, is halfway through his workout when a tall, familiar shape in grey shorts hurries through the door and drops it’s water bottle next to his.

“Is everything okay?” He pops his headphones out as Barclay shakes his head.

“Date was a bust; guy was so pushy I bailed after one drink. Figured if I caught up with you the night wouldn’t totally suck.”

Joseph grabs a second mat, lays it out, “I can’t do dinner tonight; since I thought you were busy, tonight is for running errands.”

“No big.” Barclay lays next to him, their fingers brushing for a moment before Joseph counts them down.

As the evening ticks away in sets and reps, he gets increasingly worried about Barclay; his friend begs off both squats and rowing, and doesn’t join him for the ten minute cool-down jog on the treadmill. He hopes it’s just a side effect of having a beer before working out and not something more dire.

The locker room is empty on their side, and he finds Barclay leaning his forehead on the wall outside one of the shower cubicles, taking long, deliberate breaths. His shirt is off, but he’s still in his shorts. When he turns, startled by Joseph asking if he’s okay, it’s immediately obvious why.

“Sorry” Barclay is doing his best to conceal his hard-on, “this is hella embarrassing.”

“It happens” Joseph aims for a pleasant shrug even as his own cock starts acting up, “lots of friction and, um, and all that.”

“It’d be less humiliating if it was that. I, uh,” Barclay is redder than Joseph’s ever seen him, “I put a plug in before my date and, uh, I was in such a hurry to come find you once it ended that I, I didn’t take time to pull it out.”

He forces his voice to stay gentle, to not reveal the heat burbling up from his stomach, “You could have just asked me to wait a second once you got here.”

“Didn’t think of it until I sat down on the mat and realized how much I could feel the fucking thing. Like I, uh, I said, I kinda had a one track mind when I got here. I” his brown eyes are Bambi-wide when they skitter from Joseph’s gaze, “I wanted to see you.”

Shoes squeaking on the wet tile, Joseph nudges him into the stall, “Is that really it, big guy? You went through all that discomfort just for a few more seconds of being near me?”

“Uh huh” Barclay whimpers, his big, broad frame shaking when Joseph presses him against the wall.

“That’s sweet. Do you know what happens to sweet boys when they’re good?”

His friend shakes his head, hair catching across his eyes. Joseph tips his chin up, lips slightly parted in invitation. Barclay groans and drops his head down to meet him. It is, without a doubt, the messiest kiss of Joseph’s life, all sweat and odd angles like his first time in his boyfriend’s den in the July heat. The parallel is heightened by Barclay instantly grabbing his hips and humping him through his shorts.

“Joseph, babe, please, please say this is okay.” His hands tighten their hold when Joseph licks a stripe up his neck; it’s sweaty, sticky, the kind of thing he hates in porn but damn him if the doesn’t want to lick and suck Barclay until he can taste him in his sleep.

“No, it’s not.” Joseph cups his face to keep the panic he sees there at bay, “because if you cum like that, I won’t get to show you the rest of your reward.”

“Re-reward?” Barclay actually squeaks, and what can Joseph do at such a sound but kiss him once more.

“Shorts off, water on. I’ll be right back.”

Water obediently patters on the tiles as he shoves his hand deep into his gym bag; god bless emergency laundry quarters and bathroom vending machines.

He strips, joins Barclay in the shower and discovers his cock is even more pleasing than it’s outline suggested.

“Lord almighty, you’re gorgeous.” He lowers to his knees, traces the path of droplets through the hair on Barclays stomach and chest. Then he removes the first condom from its pack, rolls it down the thick cock that’s just tempting him to abandon his plan, then slips the second one on his finger.

“Fuck, this has gotta be a dream, right? Because it’s the same one I’ve jerked off to for fucking weeks.”

“No, big guy, it’s not.” Joseph reaches between Barclay legs, “oh shit, you’ve been wearing this all night?”

“AHnnnuhhuh” Barclay moans as Joseph toys with the base of the plug.

“And you still did a huge chunk of our workout. I’m impressed, big guy, impressed and very, very, very pleased.” He kisses his cock on each very, Barclay letting out an “uhn” at each one. As he slides the plug free he continues, “To think, your date was so unpleasant he missed out on not only your charm and your handsome face, but the fact you were prepared enough to prep for him.”

“His loss is my gain ohfuck, Joseph, baby, please-” Barclays cock bobs in the air as Joseph teases his ass. When he presses in Barclay gasps, Joseph praying the droplets hitting the walls lend any escaping sounds an air of plausible deniability.

“Nice and open. Good boy.” Joseph slowly works his finger in and out, building up to two almost immediately. He nuzzles Barclays cock, “do you always bottom?”

“M-most of the timeOH, god” His head lolls back when Joseph takes his cock into his mouth, sucking lazily as he fucks him open, “I like it, makes me feel taken care of.”

Joseph eases in a third finger, let’s his cock fall from his mouth as water collects in his eyelashes. Barclay is staring down at him, hair several shades darker as it plasters to his face and eyes hopeful.

“In that case” Joseph times his upstrokes to his thrusts, “how about you come to my place on Sunday? I’ve got a whole box of cocks to choose from; we could work our way through them.”

“Yes, ohfuckyesplease.”

“We could play around with positions too” He can see Barclay’s muscles flexing in new ways as he begins bucking his hips, chasing the tender pressure of Joseph’s fist, “I bet you look great on all fours, and I know what you look like with your ass in the air already. You in my lap, that could be fun--oh, ohshit” he laughs as Barclay nearly fucks himself off his fingers, “you like that, like the idea of sitting in my lap like the big, sweet boy you are while I fuck you, like the thought of cumming on my cock and then going to fetch the next one, of me not letting you stop until we’ve been thorough and found your favorite because that’s what you deserve-”

“Fuck!” Barclay moans, hands slipping on the tile as he floods the tip of the condom. Joseph adds “get tested” to his mental to-do list while the other man slides down the wall like a slasher victim until they’re face to face on the floor.

“You okay, big guy?”

“Can’t feel my legs.”

“That’s just the lunges talking.”

“Please” Barclay kisses his shoulder, “please let me suck your dick.”

Joseph smacks the handle until the water turns off, scrambles to his feet and clings to the “no-slip” bar as Barclay shoves his face between his legs. He sucks his cock, occasionally opening his mouth enough to licks his folds. He’s so eager, even tries fucking into him with his tongue, big hands groping his ass while Joseph stifles his moans in his forearm. He’s going to cum in the gym shower, he’s going to cum from his first blowjob in years, he’s coming to cum from the astounding, impossibly hot man below him who he intends to dom into next fucking week-

He cums hard, the hand not bracing him on the wall dropping down to stroke Barclays hair. After a moment, he tries to grab his towel from where he tossed it, Barclay smiling up at him.

“Hey, Joseph?”

“Yes? Hah, got you” He pulls the towel in.

“I was staring at your ass that first day. I mean, I was mostly looking at your form but there was for sure some ass appreciation.”

“I fucking knew it.” Joseph begins drying him off, “just for that you owe me dinner again.”

“Thought you had errands.”

“Shit. How do you feel about a romantic, pre-dinner Target run?”

“I’d love it.”

[wiypt-writes]

Riding High

One Shot- Whamageddon

Summary: Frank loses a Christmas time bet…

Warnings: Bad Language words

Chapter Pairings:  Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: This is my first entry for @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @sagechanoafterdark s Festive Writing Challenge. My prompt is- “Did you put antlers on the dog?” This takes place in the Riding High timeline, alongside Ch12- ILY which was their first Christmas together.  (FYI Whamageddon is a real thing that me and my friends play every year without fail...and its HARD!!!  https://www.whamageddon.com/)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Frank parked his truck in the space next to Fliss’ jeep and hopped out, making his way over the lawn to his apartment. That had been an awkward job, really awkward job if he was honest. It had taken him a lot longer than anticipated to locate the problem in the fuel pump, and at one point he was expecting to have to roll it over and finish in the morning which he really hadn’t wanted to do, as Saturdays were the one morning of the week he was able to lie in, uninterrupted and the thought of having to drag himself away from that pissed him right off. Thankfully, Bill had come to his rescue and collected Mary from school, dropping her with Fliss at the yard, something he knew Mary loved and Fliss seemed to enjoy too and it had given him the extra couple of hours he needed to finish up.

As a result whilst he was now tired, dirty, covered in grease and ready for a beer, he could relax that evening knowing he didn’t have to haul his ass out of bed at six am. He’d be able to at least sleep until Fliss’ alarm went off at eight. Mind you, even then he tended to go back to bed after they’d had breakfast, or nap on the couch until about fifteen minutes before Mary was due home. After all, he didn’t have horses to muck out and ride.

Fuck that.

As he traipsed up the steps to his apartment he could hear the sounds of Last Christmas by Wham playing and he cursed. “Fuck!” With a groan he pulled out his phone and opened up the group message, rolling his eyes in annoyance. He typed a single word “Whamageddon” and hit send. This was a game he and the boys played every year. It was a contest to see who could go the longest time over the holiday period without hearing that infernal fucking song. The rules were simple, you weren’t allowed to be a dick by tricking each other and sending messages, videos or emails containing it, and it had to be the original version, so covers, remixes and people singing it didn’t count. It also relied on all of them being honest enough to own up, but they were the Circle Of Truth after all. So far it had claimed Simon and Greg, leaving him and Jake in the running…and now he’d just lost meaning Jake won the forty-dollar pot. Mind you, the last 2 years they’d played it said forty-bucks had been used to purchase drinks on their night out so it wasn’t like he’d actually lost anything, just the satisfaction of beating Jake. But the fact he’d lost that was annoying in itself.

Fuck you George Michael.

Shoving his phone back into the pocket of his dirty jeans with an annoyed growl, Frank yanked the door open and instantly was hit with the sweet notes of nutmeg and ginger as something baked in the oven and the loud sounds of giggling and singing from the lounge. He passed through the small kitchen and paused in the doorway as he saw Mary on the couch,  bouncing up and down, her hands in Fliss’ as his girlfriend danced in front of Mary, twirling round, Thor bouncing along with her occasionally issuing the odd, excited bark. Fliss’ wore a headband upon which a pair of reindeer antlers were fixed whilst on Mary’s head sat a Santa hat which was adorned with light up stars.  The irritation of losing instantly left Franky’s system as he could do noth8ing but smile as he watched the pair of them dancing like idiots before Mary glanced up and saw him and gave him a grin. Fliss turned and smiled, waving him over. He shook his head, gesturing to the fact he was filthy but she simply grinned even more, and bent her finger at him, arching an eyebrow. The fact she seemed to get turned on by him being covered in grease greatly amused Frank and he simply met her down right filthy look with one of his own before she pouted at him as he was refusing to play. As usual when she fixed those eyes on him, he simply rolled his own and gave in, striding over the room where he dropped a kiss to her lips as Mary plonked the hat she had been wearing on his head just as the song ended.

“You just lost me a bet.” Frank looked at Fliss, then Mary. They both frowned at one another before Fliss gave a groan.

“Whamageddon?”

“Whamageddon.” He confirmed.

“Sorry!” she winced, shrugging as he returned Mary’s hat to her head, pulling it down over her eyes “We made sugar cookies though if that’s any consolation?"

“You’ve been busy.” Frank smiled and Mary nodded, pushing the hat up so she could see.

“We’re gonna decorate them tomorrow afternoon before we got to V and Bills.”

“Who’s we?” Frank arched an eyebrow.

“Me and you” Mary shrugged.

“That so?”

“Yup.” Mary nodded “We got ready made tubes of icing and stuff so even you can’t mess it up.”

Fliss laughed at the affronted look on Frank’s face as he narrowed his eyes at Mary before he reached out and grabbed her causing her to shriek as he tickled her sides.

Mary giggled, her protests becoming louder and lounder as did her laughter until, after one particular loud shriek Frank gave a yell and jumped, looking down at Thor who was stood behind him, his head cocked to one side, tail wagging furiously as he issued a loud bark.

“He just bit my ass!”

Fliss laughed even harder “he’s only playing. If he meant to bite you properly, you’d know about it. He’s never bitten anyone properly in his life.”

“Ha, he’s my bodyguard!” Mary straightened her hat once more before she hopped off the couch “Are you taking me to Roberta’s now?”

“Damned straight I am.” He mumbled, shooting the dog another glare before he turned back to her “You got your stuff?”

“Yup.”

“Okay come on. What do you say?” he nodded towards Fliss who rolled her eyes.

“Thanks for watching me and baking and stuff!” she wrapped her arms around Fliss’ waist and Fliss smiled, bending over to give her a hug. “Night Lissy.”

“You’re welcome babe. See you tomorrow.”

Mary skipped off and Frank turned to Fliss giving her another quick kiss.

“You know, you don’t have to make her thank me.” Fliss smiled as he pulled away. “She comes as part of the package.”

“She can still mind her manners.” Frank shrugged “Be back in five.”

Thor made to follow but Fliss grabbed his collar to stop him, before she grinned and after faffing with him for a second let him go. He padded after Frank and Mary, neither of them paying him any attention, although Frank didn’t fail to notice the grins the three of them were getting as they walked down to Roberta’s. Most likely thanks to the hat Mary had on.

Mary pushed Roberta’s door in and they all stepped inside, Roberta coming out of the kitchen to greet them.

“Mary Christmas!” Mary grinned and Roberta scoffed “Geddit? Mary, Merry…”

“Yeah I get it.” Roberta shook her head as Frank let out a snort. Her attention turned to him and she folder her arms, looking him up and down “You look like you just crawled outta some kind of pit. You’re filthy.”

“Yeah, well, been working.” He shrugged as Mary padded past into the living room. “Erm…forgetting something Stack?”

“Oh….” She turned and grabbed her little rucksack off him before she continued.

“Night then.” He shot sarcastically, receiving no response. He shook his head and turned to Roberta “We’re not going out so any issues…”

“There are never any issues Frank.” Roberta rolled her eyes “So, get….” She trailed off as her eyes fell towards Thor “Did you put antlers on the dog?”

Frank turned to look at Thor who was indeed sporting the antlers that had five or so minutes ago adorned Fliss’ head. He gave a snort, now realising why everyone they’d passed had smirked or laughed at them. “No, I didn’t” he shook his head as Thor’s tail began to thump on the floor. “That one’s down to Lissy.”

“You sure you’re not just feelin’ extra festive this year?” she teased and Frank gave a little smile.

“I’m looking forward to it, yeah.” He admitted, his eyes flicking back to the dog before he looked at Roberta. “Been a funny year. Some ways I’ll be glad to see the back of it, in others…” he trailed off as Roberta lay her hand on his arm.

“It was tough, I know. But…it all ended well.” She shrugged “You got that little girl in there and, well, a bigger girl waitin’ for you back home.”

“I’ll tell her you said that!” he grinned and Roberta slapped his arm.

“You know full well that wasn’t what I meant, besides, I’ve seen more meat on a damned grasshopper than there is on Fliss.”

“So now you’re calling her skinny…you know, I never had you down for size shaming Roberta.”

“Get outta my house before I hit you with the mop.” Roberta pointed behind him to the door causing Frank to laugh.

“See you tomorrow.” He turned, patting his thigh signalling for Thor “Come on Rudolph.”

Obediently the dog trotted after him as he left and made his way home, a soft smile playing on his face. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, snorting at the message of victory from Jake. He then noticed he had another message from Fliss. 

His phone wasn't great on picture messages, it was old school after all, but it was good enough to make him stop in his tracks. Her red, lace bra clad breasts flashed back at him along with the message "on second thoughts, maybe sugar cookies aint enough of an apology...I'll say sorry properly"

Frank swallowed as he shoved the phone back into his pocket and set off home, his pace doubled.

Thank you Whamageddon...

*********

Everything 

@momobaby227  @marvelfansworld  @cobalt-gear @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel​  @coldmuffinbanditshoe​ @nerdofthefandoms​ @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ @southerngracela​ @goldenfightergir​ @kellymat​ @what-just-happened-bro @jennmurawski13​ @joannaliceevans-fanficblog​ @jtargaryen18​ @onetwo3000​ @ourfinest-hour​ @redhairedfeistynerd​ @charmed-asylum​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @just-one-ordinary-fangirl​ @before-we-get-started​ @anika-ann​ @icanfeelastormbrewing​ @gigglegirl77​ @bval-1​ @princess-evans-addict​ @mes-2016​ @theladybiers​ @hurricanerin​ @kelbabyblue​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @rebloggingeverything​ @chezdricks​ @gotnofucks​ @nerdypinupcrystal​ @i-just-like-fanfics​ @xlanawriter​ @angrybirdcr​ @mariestark​ @aubreeskailynn​ 

Frank Adler

@patzammit​ @lovingonshawn​ @smediumsmeatbae​ @itsmycorneroftheinternet​ @chezdricks​ @aldu-p​ @mariestark​

[inkrabbit]

Too Good to be True - Micah x GN!Reader

You know, I started writing this. Hated it. Pulled it back up cause I like the concept and finished it. So here we are.

Summary: While working the general store in place of your father, you meet a new face. The two of you hit it off quick, but when events transpire in Valentine, you find yourself making a quick decision.

Word count: 2,340

 The start of spring had proved it was here to make an impact on you. Having broken his leg and too busy nursing it, your elderly father had put you in charge of the general store in Valentine. It hadn’t been the first time he had done this, broken limb and all, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last. This wasn’t your first time working for the man, and you found yourself doing it more often than not whenever he didn’t feel like getting up and running the store. However, it wasn’t too bad. The store wasn’t that far from home and folk that resided in Valentine had loved you and your family from the moment you all had moved. They were friendly for the most part, coming in and greeting you with smiles as they picked out what they had wanted. You would lend them the catalog anytime they wanted something from the back, and you helped them pick out items for jobs or even gifts. But even with the tame life, you always felt as though you were missing something.

 A week into you running the shop was when things started changing. A man you had never seen before had entered the shop in the late evening, blue eyes looking you up and down with a crooked smirk as he started to browse. He certainly stood out from the rest of the townsfolk. His white hat was dusty and stained of dirt, his blond hair reaching his shoulders. His leather coat, while still a good shade of black, had also looked like it had seen its fair share of better days. He had peaked your curiosity from the moment he walked through that door, bell chiming as you two made eye contact.

“Haven’t seen you before,” you comment, catching his attention. He turns away from the cigarettes, showing off his green neckerchief a bit more as he raises his head, eyebrows raised and waiting for you to continue. “You new to Valentine? Or just passin’ through?”

“Depends on the company,” he replies with a playful tone, going to turn back around and continue his search for what he needed. “They all look like you? Might just have to stay.”

“Well, is that so?” You lean against the counter, listening to him chuckle softly.

“Oh, it is so, darlin’,” he purrs, snatching up a can of tobacco chew and strutting over to you. He sets it down none too gently, resting his hand on the top of the counter and inspecting you further. He gives you a toothy grin, mischievous but intriguing. “So, what’s your name, anyway? Gotta be as beautiful as you.”

 And he said it was when you told him. You have had customers flirt with you before, complimenting your looks and even how you worked so diligently, but this man – Micah Bell the third, he said his name was – was the only one who caught and held your interest even long after he left the shop, promising to visit again real soon so you two could get to know each other better. You had stood there, smiling like an idiot far after he had left the store with a wink, questions running through your head. You wanted to know where he came from, what he did and exactly who he was.

 So those were all questions you asked whenever Micah would return to the store. He seemed to come back every other day to help you close shop, roaming the town with you as you asked everything you could, your arms linked and some of the townsfolk giving you questioning looks as you would giggle at his comments. Oh, but he was a mystery of a person, responding to your questions with vague answers. He did “this and that” for work, and he lived “you know… here and there”. It was irritating to no end, but he had confessed that it wasn’t the right moment to explain everything. Honestly, you were worried he had a family waiting for him back home, but he had laughed out loud when you voiced these concerns. He told you of a “family”, but it wasn’t the one you were worried about.

 Every night it was the same. The two of you would walk around Valentine, sometimes going to the saloon to get something to drink and relax. You had found yourself feeling more relaxed than you had been in a long time, and those soft touches he would trail along your hand with his would send a shiver up your spine.

“So, how’s that father of yours?” he asks as he takes a sip of his whiskey. You had told him of the fall your father had taken the week prior to you two meeting when he had asked if you worked at the store all alone.

“He’s doing fine. Practically better now, but he’s bein’ a baby,” you tell him with a smile. He hums, nodding his head as his thumb brushes your knuckles. “Business been slow, though. Wishin’ it would kick back up.”

“Money gettin’ tight?” he questions. You give him a nod, sighing softly. He listened to your story, almost intently as you told him about the bills that had been piling up. Of course, you had shrugged it off, telling him it would all work out. He just gives you another hum.

 And just like the other nights, when your fun would have to come to an end, he would walk you back home. You would thank him for the nice time, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, something he had to get used to. The first time you had done it, he had seemed so surprised, but had quickly recovered with that smug grin. He always waited until you got inside safely, too. You weren’t sure if he knew, but you would always peek out the window and watch him walk away, whistling for his horse. You always wondered where he went, and what that “family” of his was like. He had told you his father passed and didn’t admit to having any siblings.

 You hadn’t seen Micah for a few days after that, and you had worried that confessing to your family’s money problem had put him off. Or, maybe he was just a drifter that had finally decided to pack up and head off somewhere else. Whatever the case was, you found yourself missing his company. His gruff voice and those sweet compliments he would always give you as he pulled you closer. Well, there was always tomorrow. At least, you hoped. Closing up shop and making your way home. However, as you walk up the steps leading up to your porch, you notice a little lockbox sitting on the bench, its lock busted. Curiously, you pick it up and open the top, peering inside. There’s a small piece of paper with your name scribbled on it, atop a stack of money that almost makes you choke. You don’t know how much there is, but you take it inside after a moment’s hesitation. You remove the paper with your name, tossing it into the trash and heading to your room. Setting the lockbox on your nightstand, you close the top and sit down on the edge of your bed. Maybe you would talk to your father about it tomorrow after dinner.

 By the time the evening comes tomorrow, Valentine is in lockdown. You heard the officers firing at some “Van der Linde”, and a sheriff had urged you to stay inside the shop and keep your head down until it was safe to come out. It felt like a lifetime before everything outside had stopped and someone had told you everything was okay. He had looked you over and made sure you weren’t hurt before he sent you on your way. You were to go straight home and stay safe. Wishing him luck on catching the outlaws, you made your way down the road and towards home.

“There you are, darlin’!” Micah was the last person you expected to see lingering around your property. However, he seemed jumpy and in a hurry.

“And where have you been, Mister Bell?” you ask him. He doesn’t exactly reply, just walks over to take your hands, giving one of them a kiss.

“Walk with me, darlin’,” he says, leading you away from your house. You give him a curious look but you follow regardless. He’s leading you further and further away from Valentine, just on the outskirts, and you notice this is the first time you two are walking without your arms linked, but instead your fingers laced together.

“You gonna tell me what all this is about, Micah?” You finally ask. He groans softly, giving your hand a soft squeeze.

“I gotta move,” he tells you. The same disappointment you had when he didn’t show up at the shop hits you again. Of course. You didn’t know what to expect, honestly. Settle down with a man who had a shady background? Just your luck.

“Of course you do…” Your voice is low and your hand slips from his as you cross your arms, staring down at the ground. Micah’s quick, however, stepping forward to grab your face with a gentle touch so you’re looking at him again. Those blue eyes are finally filled with a different emotion, and if you had to guess, you’d say it was worry.

“Now, don’t you start that, darlin’,” he coos, thumb stroking your cheek. “Look, I know I ain’t been truthful and it ain’t been fair to you. But I just… I need you to trust me, one last time.”

“Trust you for what, Micah?” you question. He inhales deeply, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before he pulls back.

“Come back with me,” His words hit you like one of those trains you had heard all about. Your mind goes a mile a minute, thinking of every possible outcome as you open your mouth.

“Micah… I…” You don’t know what you’re going to say. Sure, you had one day longed to pick up and move from your parents house and have your own life. But for Micah to just so suddenly tell you he has to leave and wanted you to tag along. It was something out of those fairy tale books, where Prince Charming comes to take the princess away to a fantasy land to live happily ever after. You never exactly considered yourself some princess locked away somewhere, but as Micah speaks, it becomes more convincing.

“It ain’t gonna be easy, I’ll admit,” he starts softly, removing his hands from your face to once again hold yours. “but we’ll make it work, doll. You an’ me? We’ll be alright. I’ll show you the ropes and make sure you know how to take care of yourself. We’d be free, together.”

“What about my parents?” you finally ask. You can see him falter, but he regains himself quick.

“We can send them money!” he responds, and he seems to be getting more anxious as the seconds go by. “C’mon, sweetheart. Trust me this once and come with me?”

You take a moment to think it over. Perhaps this was what you were missing in your life? Micah keeps looking around, but a smile finally breaks out on his nervous face when you finally tell him “yes”. His arms envelope around you in a tight embrace, a barking laugh escaping his lips as he lifts you up and swings you around. Finally being set back on the ground, you’re greeted with a bright grin as he lifts a hand, whistling for his horse.

“You won’t regret this, darlin’,” he promises. You just give him a smile as a Missouri Fox Trotter makes its way over. Micah helps you on the back of the animal before mounting up himself. The plan was to go pack your things, leave a note for your parents that you were hightailing it out of there and would eventually be back to visit. You knew your father was pretty much back to his normal self and had just been letting you continue to run the shop so he could continue his “vacation”, as you liked to call it. You left the note on top of the broken lockbox, making sure to keep the top open to show off the money inside. And once you were done, suitcase in hand, Micah helps you back up. It almost feels surreal as he spurs his horse, Baylock.

 Along the way down the road, Micah finally comes clean, though he sounds reluctant to do so. He had confessed that he was the one who had left the lockbox at your doorstep, and when he tells you about how he’s part of an outlaw gang, you’re almost surprised to hear the name “Van der Linde” again. The same group that had tore up your hometown a few days prior. Apparently someone his leader had stolen from was looking for vengeance, which had ultimately escalated to a gunfight. Of course, this didn’t sit right with you, but Micah’s colossal hand reaches back to gently rest on your knee.

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart,” he coos as he glances back to look at you, “We’re gonna be alright. I just need ya to… have some faith in me.”

 And truth be told, you do. With an arm hooked snugly around his waist, you rest your head on his shoulder and let out a soft hum. He doesn’t tell you everything, and you didn’t expect him to. But he tells you enough about the gang, and tells you the plan his leader, Dutch, has. A trip to Tahiti once they get enough money, and Micah promises you a spot on the boat right next to him. It sounds nice. A fairy tale ending. You don’t even notice the smile that graces your lips as you imagine what it’d be like in Tahiti with him and the rest of the group.

[hawkbucks]

Prompt: I always see you in the library and I think you’re really cute so I leave you little post it notes on your work whenever you go and get a book just to see you blush AU.

Note: Originally sent in by an anon on my now-deleted older blog (as is usual with these reposted ficlets jgkfld) 

It starts, like every good this-is-how-I-met-my-boyfriend story does, with Bucky dragging himself to the library after barely getting 2 hours of sleep last night.

With his trusty can of Red Bull and an ancient laptop that might as well have had dust spluttering out of its vents, he sits down in silent isolation from the other groups of students who take the library as a place to socialize and listen to music without earphones on as opposed to actually studying or writing their 3 essays that are due the next day. (He does, however, realize the hypocrisy in his way of thinking considering the obscene amount of time that he spends shooting the shit with Steve, Sam, and Nat in their group chat whilst his physics homework lies ignored.)

He takes a generous gulp of his Red Bull and turns on his laptop, ready to wait the 34 years it takes to boot up. The chair creaks disconcertingly underneath him as he leans back, but he’s had too many sleepless nights and too many mental breakdowns to care. If it snaps, it snaps. A trip to the hospital for a bashed-in head would at least give him an excuse to take time off from the hell that is university.

His laptop groans like it wants him to put it out of its misery, preferably with a BB pellet to the motherboard. He watches as the screen flashes white and the Baintronics logo pops up and swirls on the screen. A black loading bar appears under the logo. He waits, tapping his fingers on the table.

5%

30%

Somehow unloads to 19%

5–hold on. There’s movement in his peripheral vision. People sometimes come and intrude in his little corner when they’re tired of everyone else like he is, and it’s been long enough since the last person that he curiously looks up–

–and promptly lays his eyes on the cutest guy he’s ever seen. His black hair sits in a mess of soft-looking curls on his head, he’s wearing an oversized t-shirt with the Jurassic Park logo on it (Bucky thinks he’s in love already), and a pair of glasses perches on the bridge of his nose. Glasses. Bucky chokes on his spit and almost tips his chair over. It’s not creepy, he tells himself as his eyes follow the cute guy who ends up sitting two tables over and, thankfully, ends up sitting in a way so that Bucky can see his face. He watches as he take out a sleek laptop, a binder, and dumps out a bunch of pencils and pens. No, I’m just… admiring his looks. And it’s not like Steve doesn’t openly ogle Thor every time they pass each other… fuck, Barnes, get it together.

Bucky shakes his head and turns his attention back to his laptop screen.

As it turns out, concentrating on his stupid study guide for this stupid quiz that’s coming up is near impossible when the adorable (yeah, because cute just isn’t enough) guy keeps shifting in his seat and giving Bucky excuses to look over. Bucky’s trying to remember all these formulas but the only thing that he’s committing to memory is the way that the guy sticks the tip of his tongue out when he’s, presumably, deep in thought, or the way that he has to blow his bangs out of his face when they come down to cover his eyes. The study guide, Barnes! Bucky’s mind yells. You don’t even know this guy! Stop mooning over him!

He goes back to writing down practice problems in his notebook and gets maybe 4 problems in when he hears wood screeching against linoleum and realizes that Adorable Guy has gotten up, leaving behind pretty much everything. Bit trusting, isn’t he?

Then, a light bulb flickers on in Bucky’s head. He rummages around in his backpack for some post-it notes.

He pulls out a stack of post-its–the pastel blue ones that he was supposed to be using for his history class but never actually got around to doing so. They’ll do. Just wanted to say that you’re cute, he scratches out on one post-it. His stomach twists and turns as he peels it off and tiptoes over to Adorable Guy’s seat, looking around to make sure he isn’t seen. Before his mind can catch up and tell him that this is a terrible idea, he flattens the post-it on the binder and slinks back to his own table.

He doesn’t know when Adorable Guy will be back, but he works on making himself look as busy as possible. There aren’t many other people around, but there are other people, so hopefully the guy won’t assume it was Bucky if he looked like he was elbow-deep in physics. He taps his foot, impatient.

1 thunk of Bucky’s head against the table later, and Adorable Guy comes back with a veritable stack of books in his arms. Bucky watches over the top of his laptop as Adorable Guy lays the books down and looks at his binder in confusion, sliding into his seat.

He picks the note up, reads it, and a pretty pink starts to rise up on his cheeks and dust itself across the bridge of their nose. He look around with wide eyes, seeming to take in everyone surrounding him and calculating who’s most likely to have written him that note. “Excuse me.” He reaches out towards Bucky, the note in his hand and sounding as sweet as Bucky thought he would. “Did you see anyone leave this here?”

Bucky puts on his best confused face and shrugs. “No, sorry.” He tries to not stare into the other’s eyes, even if, as cliche as it is, he feels like he could get lost in them.

Adorable Guy nods. “It’s fine.” And he turns away, just like that, probably pondering on whether it’s worth it to bother others and solve this mystery.

Bucky goes back to looking busy, but continues to watch over his laptop as Adorable Guy smiles softly, folds the note, and puts it into their pencil bag.

Oh, Bucky’s so screwed.

If anyone notices that Bucky starts frequenting the library even more than he usually does in the following weeks, they don’t say anything. Well, okay, they don’t say anything, but Natasha does throw him questioning looks and Sam wiggles his eyebrows at him. He might just have a tiny, slight addiction to passing on some anonymous notes to Adorable Guy. It’s just small. Miniscule. It’s not like his day feels a tad bit worse whenever he sees that Adorable Guy aren’t in his seat, and it’s not like his day brightens up whenever he sees him blush after reading one of his newest notes.

Nuh-uh. None of that.

None of Bucky waiting impatiently for Adorable Guy to get up and get some new books before he writes, Your hair is looking especially good today, when Adorable Guy comes in with his hair looking extra fluffy, or before Bucky writes, You’re smart. Just keep studying, I know you can do it, when he notices that Adorable Guy is huffing and puffing and running his hands though his hair more than usual.

None of Bucky barely able to hold in his own smiles, feeling his heart flutter when Adorable Guy positively beams.

All of this and it’s without Bucky actually knowing the other’s name. He realizes that he should remedy that sooner rather than later, but for now… he supposes he can keep anonymous for a little while longer.

As if on cue, Adorable Guy gets out of his seat again. Part of Bucky wonders if Adorable Guy has grown as excited as he is about the notes; he’s been getting up more and more, and he comes back empty handed or with a bag of chips from the vending machine more often than with another stack of books.

Quickly, Bucky takes out another stack of post-its–this time in a light pink–and writes, I’m not sure if you’ll still be coming here after this quarter is over, but I just wanted to say that you really are beautiful. Thanks for hanging around. He signs it with a smiley face and begins that familiar walk to the other’s table.

“You!” Adorable Guy whispers as he pops out from behind a bookcase, looking entirely too delighted and proud of himself, when Bucky’s about to stick the note onto the table.

Bucky freezes like a deer caught in headlights. He’s maybe 0.5 seconds away from bolting and never stepping foot in that library ever again, even if it is the one that’s closest to his classes. “Me?”

“You’re the one that’s been leaving the notes–” Adorable Guy licks his lips, and Bucky wonders if he picked up on his nervousness– “I’m not angry or disappointed or anything, if you think that’s the case. Now that I think about it, it’s actually, uh, kind of obvious that it was you, but… I’ve been wondering for a while, and… yeah.”

“Yeah,” Bucky repeats. He moves to cram the note into his pocket.

“No!” Adorable Guy blurts out, which earns them quite a few dirty looks. He bows his head in apology towards the disgruntled students and turns back to Bucky. “Don’t. I wanna read it.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“I was sure about reading all of the notes you gave me before I knew who you were,” Adorable Guy retorts and sticks his hand out. “Now let me read it. Please?” He actually pouts, and that’s incredibly unfair.

Hesitantly, Bucky places the note in Adorable Guy’s outstretched hand (because he’s pretty sure if he tried to go against that pout, he’d get sent straight to hell immediately) and stuffs his own hands into his pockets. He can feel a thin layer of sweat start to form on his brow, which is ridiculous because usually he isn’t this nervous around people he finds attractive. Although, to be fair, none of them have ever looked like the guy in front of him.

Perhaps it’s because he’s a masochist, but he doesn’t look away and prevent himself from seeing Adorable Guy’s reaction. So, when his eyes light up and he smiles and that blush is back and Bucky realizes that he’s seeing this face to face, he smiles right back.

“God, you’re sweet, aren’t you?” Adorable Guy laughs, holding up the note. “I swear this just gave me cavities.”

Bucky rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry. I’ll pay the dentist’s bill.”

“You better,” Adorable Guy teases. “I”m gonna need a name so I know who to make it out to.” He steps just the slightest bit closer and Bucky tries not to choke on his own spit again.

“James,” Bucky replies, “but my friends call me Bucky.”

“I’m Tony.” Tony. Tony, Tony, Tony. It’s nice to be able to put a name to the face, and Bucky suspects he’s not gonna tire of saying Tony’s name any time soon.

“So, Tony…” Bucky looks at the table and quickly snatches up a notepad and a pencil. Tony doesn’t seem to mind, or he at least doesn’t protest. Bucky quickly writes something out, then turns it around and hands it to Tony.

Would you like to go out for lunch?

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Riding High

One Shot- Whamageddon

Summary: Frank loses a Christmas time bet…

Warnings: Bad Language words

Chapter Pairings:  Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: This is my first entry for @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @sagechanoafterdark s Festive Writing Challenge. My prompt is- “Did you put antlers on the dog?” This takes place in the Riding High timeline, alongside Ch12- ILY which was their first Christmas together.  (FYI Whamageddon is a real thing that me and my friends play every year without fail...and its HARD!!!  https://www.whamageddon.com/)

Chapter Song:  Last Christmas by Wham

Series Masterlist //  Main Masterlist

Frank parked his truck in the space next to Fliss’ jeep and hopped out, making his way over the lawn to his apartment. That had been an awkward job, really awkward job if he was honest. It had taken him a lot longer than anticipated to locate the problem in the fuel pump, and at one point he was expecting to have to roll it over and finish in the morning which he really hadn’t wanted to do, as Saturdays were the one morning of the week he was able to lie in, uninterrupted and the thought of having to drag himself away from that pissed him right off. Thankfully, Bill had come to his rescue and collected Mary from school, dropping her with Fliss at the yard, something he knew Mary loved and Fliss seemed to enjoy too and it had given him the extra couple of hours he needed to finish up.

As a result whilst he was now tired, dirty, covered in grease and ready for a beer, he could relax that evening knowing he didn’t have to haul his ass out of bed at six am. He’d be able to at least sleep until Fliss’ alarm went off at eight. Mind you, even then he tended to go back to bed after they’d had breakfast, or nap on the couch until about fifteen minutes before Mary was due home. After all, he didn’t have horses to muck out and ride.

Fuck that.

As he traipsed up the steps to his apartment he could hear the sounds of Last Christmas by Wham playing and he cursed. “Fuck!” With a groan he pulled out his phone and opened up the group message, rolling his eyes in annoyance. He typed a single word “Whamageddon” and hit send. This was a game he and the boys played every year. It was a contest to see who could go the longest time over the holiday period without hearing that infernal fucking song. The rules were simple, you weren’t allowed to be a dick by tricking each other and sending messages, videos or emails containing it, and it had to be the original version, so covers, remixes and people singing it didn’t count. It also relied on all of them being honest enough to own up, but they were the Circle Of Truth after all. So far it had claimed Simon and Greg, leaving him and Jake in the running…and now he’d just lost meaning Jake won the forty-dollar pot. Mind you, the last 2 years they’d played it said forty-bucks had been used to purchase drinks on their night out so it wasn’t like he’d actually lost anything, just the satisfaction of beating Jake. But the fact he’d lost that was annoying in itself.

Fuck you George Michael.

Shoving his phone back into the pocket of his dirty jeans with an annoyed growl, Frank yanked the door open and instantly was hit with the sweet notes of nutmeg and ginger as something baked in the oven and the loud sounds of giggling and singing from the lounge. He passed through the small kitchen and paused in the doorway as he saw Mary on the couch,  bouncing up and down, her hands in Fliss’ as his girlfriend danced in front of Mary, twirling round, Thor bouncing along with her occasionally issuing the odd, excited bark. Fliss’ wore a headband upon which a pair of reindeer antlers were fixed whilst on Mary’s head sat a Santa hat which was adorned with light up stars.  The irritation of losing instantly left Franky’s system as he could do nothing but smile as he watched the pair of them dancing like idiots before Mary glanced up and saw him and gave him a grin. Fliss turned and smiled, waving him over. He shook his head, gesturing to the fact he was filthy but she simply grinned even more, and bent her finger at him, arching an eyebrow. The fact she seemed to get turned on by him being covered in grease greatly amused Frank and he simply met her down right filthy look with one of his own before she pouted at him as he was refusing to play. As usual when she fixed those eyes on him, he simply rolled his own and gave in, striding over the room where he dropped a kiss to her lips as Mary plonked the hat she had been wearing on his head just as the song ended.

“You just lost me a bet.” Frank looked at Fliss, then Mary. They both frowned at one another before Fliss gave a groan.

“Whamageddon?”

“Whamageddon.” He confirmed.

“Sorry!” she winced, shrugging as he returned Mary’s hat to her head, pulling it down over her eyes “We made sugar cookies though if that’s any consolation?"

“You’ve been busy.” Frank smiled and Mary nodded, pushing the hat up so she could see.

“We’re gonna decorate them tomorrow afternoon before we got to V and Bills.”

“Who’s we?” Frank arched an eyebrow.

“Me and you” Mary shrugged.

“That so?”

“Yup.” Mary nodded “We got ready made tubes of icing and stuff so even you can’t mess it up.”

Fliss laughed at the affronted look on Frank’s face as he narrowed his eyes at Mary before he reached out and grabbed her causing her to shriek as he tickled her sides.

Mary giggled, her protests becoming louder and lounder as did her laughter until, after one particular loud shriek Frank gave a yell and jumped, looking down at Thor who was stood behind him, his head cocked to one side, tail wagging furiously as he issued a loud bark.

“He just bit my ass!”

Fliss laughed even harder “he’s only playing. If he meant to bite you properly, you’d know about it. He’s never bitten anyone properly in his life.”

“Ha, he’s my bodyguard!” Mary straightened her hat once more before she hopped off the couch “Are you taking me to Roberta’s now?”

“Damned straight I am.” He mumbled, shooting the dog another glare before he turned back to her “You got your stuff?”

“Yup.”

“Okay come on. What do you say?” he nodded towards Fliss who rolled her eyes.

“Thanks for watching me and baking and stuff!” she wrapped her arms around Fliss’ waist and Fliss smiled, bending over to give her a hug. “Night Lissy.”

“You’re welcome babe. See you tomorrow.”

Mary skipped off and Frank turned to Fliss giving her another quick kiss.

“You know, you don’t have to make her thank me.” Fliss smiled as he pulled away. “She comes as part of the package.”

“She can still mind her manners.” Frank shrugged “Be back in five.”

Thor made to follow but Fliss grabbed his collar to stop him, before she grinned and after faffing with him for a second let him go. He padded after Frank and Mary, neither of them paying him any attention, although Frank didn’t fail to notice the grins the three of them were getting as they walked down to Roberta’s. Most likely thanks to the hat Mary had on.

Mary pushed Roberta’s door in and they all stepped inside, Roberta coming out of the kitchen to greet them.

“Mary Christmas!” Mary grinned and Roberta scoffed “Geddit? Mary, Merry…”

“Yeah I get it.” Roberta shook her head as Frank let out a snort. Her attention turned to him and she folder her arms, looking him up and down “You look like you just crawled outta some kind of pit. You’re filthy.”

“Yeah, well, been working.” He shrugged as Mary padded past into the living room. “Erm…forgetting something Stack?”

“Oh….” She turned and grabbed her little rucksack off him before she continued.

“Night then.” He shot sarcastically, receiving no response. He shook his head and turned to Roberta “We’re not going out so any issues…”

“There are never any issues Frank.” Roberta rolled her eyes “So, get….” She trailed off as her eyes fell towards Thor “Did you put antlers on the dog?”

Frank turned to look at Thor who was indeed sporting the antlers that had five or so minutes ago adorned Fliss’ head. He gave a snort, now realising why everyone they’d passed had smirked or laughed at them. “No, I didn’t” he shook his head as Thor’s tail began to thump on the floor. “That one’s down to Lissy.”

“You sure you’re not just feelin’ extra festive this year?” she teased and Frank gave a little smile.

“I’m looking forward to it, yeah.” He admitted, his eyes flicking back to the dog before he looked at Roberta. “Been a funny year. Some ways I’ll be glad to see the back of it, in others…” he trailed off as Roberta lay her hand on his arm.

“It was tough, I know. But…it all ended well.” She shrugged “You got that little girl in there and, well, a bigger girl waitin’ for you back home.”

“I’ll tell her you said that!” he grinned and Roberta slapped his arm.

“You know full well that wasn’t what I meant, besides, I’ve seen more meat on a damned grasshopper than there is on Fliss.”

“So now you’re calling her skinny…you know, I never had you down for size shaming Roberta.”

“Get outta my house before I hit you with the mop.” Roberta pointed behind him to the door causing Frank to laugh.

“See you tomorrow.” He turned, patting his thigh signalling for Thor “Come on Rudolph.”

Obediently the dog trotted after him as he left and made his way home, a soft smile playing on his face. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, snorting at the message of victory from Jake. He then noticed he had another message ftom Fliss. 

His phone wasn't great on picture messages, it was old school after all, but it was good enough to make him stop in his tracks. Her red, lace bra clad breasts flashed back at him along with the message "on second thoughts, maybe sugar cookies aint enough of an apology...I'll say sorry properly"

Frank swallowed as he shoved the phone back into his pocket and set off home, his pace doubled.

Thank you Whamageddon...

[fabulouspotatosister]

Reset - Part Five: Back to Normal

a/n:  Finally, we're here at the end of this fic! It's been super fun getting to revisit this fic and my love for Eleven, and writing this has been super fun too! Thanks so much everyone for enjoying this fic, and I hope you enjoy the final part!  Credit to @kisstherainwriting​ for "Forbidden Orbits", the Doctor's favorite romance novel. Used to be his favorite romance novel. Haha. Again, enjoy!

word count: 4,415

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five: You are here!!]

gif credit: @mcgonagalle​

"I promised you a beach trip, didn't I?"

 You squint at the metallic panel in front of you as saltwater sprays your face. It's set into the sand, its metal surface pristine and shiny despite all the water that must be covering it on a daily basis.

 The Doctor laughs and peers down at the panel. "Welcome to Helnypso! I do hope this place isn't abandoned."

 At the sound of his voice, the panel flickers to life with a display that reads Helnypso Resorts: Have a Whole Planet to Yourself.

 "Welcome to Helnypso," a tinny voice says. "Identification, please?"

 You raise your eyebrows and turn to face the Doctor. "I don't think we ever made a reservation."

 "No, we didn't," The Doctor says. He fishes his sonic screwdriver and psychic paper out of his coat - he presses the psychic paper against the panel with one hand while he points the sonic screwdriver with the other. He grins at you with his "oh-I'm-so-impressive" face the whole time. "I think you'll find our credentials are all up to code. The Doctor and his companion."

 Companion. You just smile back at him and hope that he doesn't notice your eyes. "That's me!"

 There's a slight pause, then a mechanical whirr as the panel processes your information - then the panel speaks again. "Sir, I beg to differ."

 The Doctor pauses and frowns. "Excuse me?"

 The voice from the panel makes a strangled noise, then something like a cough. "You say she's your companion, but here it says that she's… she's your wife."

 A heavy silence falls. All you hear is the sound of the waves crashing against the endless beach and your heartbeat beating loud and steady in your chest. You can't deny the shiver that goes up your spine at the word wife, and you can't tell whether it's a good shiver or a bad one.

 And the Doctor - his hair blowing in the breeze, his face a little damp from the spray of the ocean, is as unreadable as ever.

 "Well," the Doctor starts, glancing at you, "sorry. That's on me. Yes, she's my wife."

 He pockets the psychic paper before you can snatch it out of his hands and ask him about it.

 ---

 "Unpaid bills!" The Doctor laughs as he stumbles into the console room. "I'll admit, that's a first for me."

 You cough and run a hand through your hair, shaking the sand out - it falls onto the floor and starts making a small pile at your feet. "Why did you even agree on the Sweethearts Package if we weren't gonna pay for it?"

 The Doctor straightens and pats the front of his coat. Grains of sand flutter to the floor. "I can never resist a good discount."

 You shake your head and sigh, but you're smiling. "We can't go back there again."

 "Yes, they'd arrest us and I hear the death penalty is very popular in that system." The Doctor grimaces, claps his hands together, and bounds towards the console, already fiddling with the countless levers and buttons. His smile widens as the TARDIS sets off, the ship shaking slightly as it takes off of the planet. "Ah, it doesn't matter. There are better hotel planets. We could try Henestea, or Alreneth - absolutely beautiful places -  Henestea has treehouses, love a good treehouse -"

 Are we going back to normal now?

 You find the answer to that question watching the Doctor ramble on about different resort planets - to him, it seems to be a resounding yes. His voice fades into the background and you feel something looming above you, something heavy and crushing that you're not sure you can deal with right now. Not when the Doctor looks so happy.

 It's been non-stop since you escaped the Director - Helnypso was just the third stop in what you felt like was a long list of distractions. Time is arbitrary on a time machine, but you know it's been a while since then - a long while of running away. When the Doctor looks up at you, you plaster a smile on your face.

 "Uh, Doctor, I was thinking -" You clasp your hands together, resting them right where your traitorous heart is, and you smile because if you're smiling, he's not going to notice anything wrong. "You could pick where to go this time."

 "Well, you're a bundle of joy." He pouts. "It never turns out well when I pick."

 "Yeah - I don't think it matters, though," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "You know, something always happens, and all that."

 The Doctor sighs, and nods his head towards a set of switches - you reach over and flick them up in rapid succession. The TARDIS stops shaking and stabilizes, probably drifting in space. "I suppose there is.”

 Whatever was hanging above has fallen - a heavy blanket of tension, a tension you haven't talked about properly for days since you escaped. The TARDIS has never felt so cold - or is it just you? The Doctor looks just fine. But you can never really tell with the Doctor.

 "I'll, uh -" Your voice cuts through the silence. "Get all this sand out, and then - maybe get some rest, while you decide."

 It comes through more like a question. The Doctor nods, and the light of the TARDIS shifts, suddenly a little bit darker. He moves to a different spot on the console, turning away from you. "Right. You humans and your sleep. Go ahead."

 The first step away from him feels like denial. The second step sparks a bit of anger in your heart, but by the third step you've pointed the anger away from him and right at yourself.

 "Okay," you manage, your voice small, and you think you see him take a deep breath in, and hold it. "I'll be back."

 Not soon, you think as you walk out of the console room. You don't look back. You don't see that the Doctor does.

 You're still angry, practically fuming, by the time you've carried yourself into the TARDIS hallways. The lines between anger, guilt, and embarrassment have all blurred and are now mixing in you like the world's messiest cocktail - what were you thinking, believing that one strange adventure would change anything between you?

 It isn't until the fifth minute of walking that you realize you haven't found a door yet. The TARDIS hallways are massive and endless, always leading to different places, never predictable. It made going from one room to another fun, usually - but you had been walking for five minutes, doing nothing but wallowing in your own feelings.

 "Look, I just want to sleep, okay?" you call out. The TARDIS had a mind of her own, and she could be quite snappy if she wanted to. "Can you please put my room a little bit closer?"

 Your voice echoes throughout the hallway - the only response you get is the faint humming of the TARDIS. You sigh and squeeze your eyes shut.

 "What, are you mad at me?" You walk a little bit further, wrapping your arms around yourself. The TARDIS still feels cold, and you're still in clothes ready for a beach planet. "Look, I haven't upset the Doctor, if that's what you're worried about."

 Or had you? Again, you could never really tell with the Doctor - sure, he had his moments, moments of happiness, anger, and sadness, but within the confines of the TARDIS you rarely saw those things at all. He was always somewhere else, fiddling with the console, keeping himself busy.

 Maybe you had upset him and he just wasn't saying anything about it. But the Doctor would let you know if he was cross with you, he always had. If he really was upset, what made this time any different from the others?

 You groan inwardly.

 Lost in your thoughts, you don't notice that the hallway has shortened in front of you. You stop and look up - in front of you is a set of big wooden doors. They look worn with age and behind them you can hear the sound of a fireplace crackling.

 "Where have you led me now?" you ask. The TARDIS still doesn't respond, but you feel a little better - curiosity is a better feeling than anger. You press your hands against the wood and trace its surface.

 You're not prepared for what you see when you gently push open the doors. You see books, shelves and shelves of books that seem to go on for miles. Tables piled high with books and papers, some empty and some full of scribbles written in alphabets that you don't recognize. Your gaze keeps travelling upwards, and the bookshelves just keep on going higher, staircases and ladders spiraling higher and higher into the air.

 So this was it then - the legendary TARDIS library. A whoosh of breath escapes you. You'd only heard of it in passing, and now that you were finally here it felt like stepping into the TARDIS for the first time. I hope you're not too jealous about that, you think, hoping the TARDIS can hear you.

 The room's warm, and it smells amazing. You wander through the room, tracing the spines of books and marveling at just how many there are - the books are in different shapes and sizes, some of them thicker than three pillows stacked together and some of them as thin as a single sheet of paper.

 The lights get dimmer and dimmer as you continue to walk. You feel like you're being drawn to something - when you stop at a random shelf to look at the titles something tells you to keep walking, and so you do.

 The shelves open up into what can only be described as a "reading spot". There are a few desks strewn around, but at the front of the space is a crackling fireplace, surrounded by several comfy-looking chairs.

 The whole place feels closed off, separate from the rest of the library. You walk up to the bookshelves, finding them covered in a thin layer of dust. Whatever this part of the library is, the Doctor hasn't been here in years. Your curiosity only builds, and you pick out a random book.

 One glance at the cover is enough to make you snort. It's one of those cringey romance novels, with the shirtless buff men and fainting ladies painted on the covers. "Forbidden Orbits", it reads on the front, in the same gilded font that these kinds of novels always seem to use.

 The book opens with much resistance - it hasn't been opened in a while, and its pages are yellowed, and you can spot dog-ear folds every few pages. You raise your eyebrows, though, by the end of the book - its last page is still there, miraculously intact.

 It dates the book to a time before the Doctor ripped out the final pages of books, and as far as you knew, he had always been doing that. The Doctor didn't seem like the type to read fluffy romance novels, but perhaps another Doctor had been.

 You skim through the rest of the books close to it and they all seem to be in the same category. You stifle another laugh with your hand.

 You carry the book with you and settle yourself into one of the comfy chairs. It almost swallows you - you sink right into the plush thing, and you choke out a laugh. But you're comfortable, so you flip the book back to its very first page and start reading.

 You don't mean to start falling asleep. You really don't. But the warmth of the fireplace, the faint hum of the TARDIS, and how incredibly comfy this chair combined is enough to make your eyelids grow heavy. You slip into a dreamless sleep, "Forbidden Orbits" still open in your lap.

 ---

 The TARDIS puts the library a little closer for the Doctor.

 He's not good at waiting. He's never been good at waiting. In fact, if there was a list of things he wasn't good at, waiting would be at the very top. And when he waits, the Doctor notices things. So the Doctor notices that you've been gone for a little too long, and he starts to worry.

 Now that, he's good at. Worrying about you, especially. He practically runs out of the console room and the first door he sees are the doors of the TARDIS library. The doors open for him without even a creak, and when the Doctor steps in he notices a little sound.

 He follows the sound, and when the lights start to get dimmer and the ceiling starts to get lower he starts to worry again, but for an entirely different reason. He's told the TARDIS to put that old wing of the library far away - old shame, he calls it, stuff that he'd never admit he enjoyed at the time - and if you've found it, he's in for a full day of teasing that he can't handle.

 He peeks from behind a shelf and a weight lifts off his hearts - the sound is just the sound of your soft breaths, and you're fast asleep.

 The Doctor's never walked this quietly before. He walks up to your sleeping form, sprawled out on a chair, and he feels an unexplainable fondness fill his hearts. He reaches out, gingerly, and brushes your hair away from your face. His hand catches on your temple, where you've haphazardly placed a bandage over the wound left by the simulation, and he frowns. Did he never get a good look at that?

 The Doctor's gaze travels down, to your lap, and his face burns. "Forbidden Orbits" lays open in your lap, on the twentieth page. He snatches it up and throws it back into the bookshelf, where it belongs.

 ---

 "Hey..."

 You groan and squeeze your eyes shut, clumsy fingers grabbing at whatever's trying to disturb your precious sleep. The crackling of the fireplace has died down, and you shift in your seat. Your brain is protesting, but your mouth hasn't quite caught up yet, so all you can do is mumble disjointedly and hope that your message is clear: "Please don't wake me up yet."

 You were having such a nice dream too - the events of the dream are hazy now, and when you try to grab at them they blow away into nothingness. But the dream's left a warm, fuzzy feeling in your heart.

 You hear an amused huff, and feel a hand cup your cheek. You melt into the touch, a satisfied noise finding its way out of your mouth, and you smile. "Good dreams?"

 You hum in reply. There's another amused huff, and a thumb starts to gently rub your cheek. "You need to wake up now, I've got to take a look at you."

 "Don't wanna," you mumble, still trying to hold on to that warm and fuzzy feeling. You're still so comfortable, nestled in the soft fabric of your chair, and you really never want to leave. "Comfy. Tired."

 "I know." The hand on your cheek disappears, and the skin of your face feels cold. "That's my fault, a little bit. But come on, I gotta move you. It's easier if you're awake."

 You open your eyes and peek up through your eyelashes - your vision clears, and you see the Doctor kneeling in front of you.

 He smiles at you, gently, and it's brilliant. He looks a little flustered, his hair messy like he's been running his hands through it, but he's never looked better. You smile dopily at him, still a little bit sleep-addled, and he laughs softly. "Hey, sleepyhead," he says, and all you can think is that you could never get tired of looking at him.

 "Hey," you mumble, pushing yourself upright with your elbows. "Sorry. It's just so comfy here, I just drifted off..."

 "I don't blame you." The Doctor looks around, his smile growing wider. "It's a wonderful place to take a nap in."

 Your hands fall into your lap, and it's - empty… You raise an eyebrow. "Hang on, where's the book I was reading...? What was the title again? Forbidden -"

 You look up at the Doctor and he sputters, flushing a bright red. He hushes you before you can get the whole title out, raising his hands to cover your mouth - you catch his hands in yours, laughing.

 "You weren't meant to see that," he stutters, "or this entire wing. I thought I told the TARDIS to seal this up - did she put you up to this? Maybe I can find a way to jettison this entire area off the ship -"

 "It's fine," you say, still laughing. The Doctor doesn't look calmed by that, his eyes still wide and frantic. It's fun seeing the Doctor all ruffled. "Your secret is safe with me."

 "And it should stay that way," the Doctor huffs. He pries his hands out of yours, sticking them in his coat. Then, a little louder, "Anyway, I said I was going to take a look at you, so here I am."

 "Why?"

 The Doctor raises his eyebrows and nods at you, pulling out a bottle of liquid and a patch of cloth. "Your temple's still hurt."

 Your reach up and touch the plaster - you'd thrown it on just before the Doctor dragged you to Helnypso - and you wince.

 "Trust me," the Doctor says, uncapping the bottle and pouring it onto the cloth, "I'm a doctor."

 "Thought you were the Doctor," you say, and the Doctor laughs.

 "I am!" He puts the cap back on the bottle and stuffs it back into his coat. His coat has to be bigger on the inside too. "I've got the title, I should put it to good use. I'll take off the plaster now, alright?"

 It doesn't feel right under there, and dread settles into the bottom of your stomach at the thought of taking it off. The Doctor reaches over and pats your knee, giving you another patient smile.

 "You'll be fine," he says, "won't hurt a bit."

 Carefully, he reaches over and peels the plaster off - it stings, but not enough to really hurt. When the whole thing comes off, the Doctor makes a face at it and sets it to the side, hopefully to be thrown away later.

 "Right, turn your face to the side for me, please?"

 You follow, and the Doctor reaches out with the wet cloth. It smells a lot like alcohol, and alcohol on a wound means a lot of pain - you shrink back a little. "What is it?"

 "Oh, this?" The Doctor pulls back and brings the cloth to his nose, cringing at the smell. "Just a disinfectant. It should clean your wound up nicely, get rid of anything that might be hiding in there. Don't worry."

 You try not to worry as the Doctor reaches out again and presses the cloth onto your temple. It feels like ice against your skin, but there isn't any pain. You let yourself relax, your shoulders dropping, and you let out the breath you didn't know you were holding.

 "Did I mention it's got nanobots in it?" the Doctor says nonchalantly, still pressing the cloth against your temple. As he says that, your wound starts to tingle, like little sparks of static electricity. "Little robots stitching your skin up for you. Like a mini-construction team, except for your body. I got it as a gift from some interstellar nurses, I never did give them anything back..."

 The Doctor peels the cloth off of your temple and sticks his hand in his coat again, this time pulling out a thin bandage. He presses it against your skin, and you feel it harden and grow taut, almost pulling at your skin.

 "And an Instant Bandage. From the same nurses, too. Revolutionary, the lot of them." The Doctor leans away, clapping his hands together. He's got his "oh-I'm-so-impressive" face on again, and you have to admit - you are impressed. "Well?"

 "Well," you echo. You can't really find any words, and the Doctor takes it as a compliment. "Thanks."

 "Oh, it's nothing." The Doctor smooths the bandage out. His hand lingers on your skin for just a second before he pulls away, dropping his hands to his sides. "I'm just looking out for you."

 "Still - thank you," you say, and you don't miss the way the Doctor's eyes crinkle in a tiny smile. "Really."

 "Yeah," the Doctor says quietly, and you settle into another silence, this one more comfortable than the last. There's still a tension in the air, but it isn't so thick anymore, driven away by the coziness of the fireplace. You can feel the Doctor's eyes on you, even when you glance away.

 The Doctor's voice breaks the silence, soft but sudden. "You're very loud."

 "What's that supposed to mean?"

 The Doctor startles, his eyes widening. "Sorry, sorry - it's just -" he stammers, blinking quickly, "-your thoughts, they're very loud sometimes."

 You can't stop the flicker of panic that jump-starts your heart into overdrive. "You - could hear what I was thinking?"

 "I swear, I didn't mean to!" the Doctor says quickly, holding up his hands, "I promised I wasn't going to go looking where I wasn't supposed to. I did. And for that I am so sorry."

 Curiosity overwhelms your fear for a second - "What did you hear?" you ask, before you can stop yourself.

 The Doctor stares at you, big green eyes still wide with apprehension. His mouth sets into a hard line. "Something about going back to normal," he says, his voice low.

 I didn't even know I was still thinking about that. You frown, your chest growing heavy with the weight of - what is it? Guilt? Sadness? Embarrassment? All three? Your heart's still a mess, and the Doctor's stuck himself in there and mixed everything up.

 "Yeah," you say, pursing your lips in an awkward smile. "I was thinking about that. It's nothing."

 "It can't be nothing," The Doctor insists. He's closer to you now, resting his hands on the arms of the chair. "I -" His voice breaks off, and he looks up, almost frustrated. "I care about you, and so whatever you're feeling can't be nothing."

 Now, the caring bit isn't a surprise. The Doctor has always cared for you, even when it had only been hours since you'd met. What's surprising is the conviction in his voice, the way he says it like a promise, and how much it sounds like -

 The Doctor raises his hand to brush his thumb against your temple, his touch trailing down until his hand cups your cheek. "All of that," he says, "everything that happened. I could take it away, and we'd be back to normal. If that's what you want."

 A reset. "No," you blurt out, meeting the Doctor's eyes. "No, that's not what I want."

 "What do you want, then?" the Doctor asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

 Behind him, the fireplace roars, and so does something in your heart. "Don't you know?"

 Something flickers across the Doctor's face - a shadow, an emotion you can't catch. “Don’t lie.”

 “I'm not lying," you say. You stare at him, lifting your own hands to wrap around his wrist. "And if I was, you'd know."

 You're trembling as your fingers curl around his wrist, your heart beating at a million miles per hour, loud enough to have it thumping in your ears. Slowly, you drag the Doctor's hand down until it reaches your mouth, and then - an echo - you squeeze your eyes shut and press your lips to the inside of his palm.

 "I meant what I said," you whisper against his skin, "on the ship. I wasn't lying."

 "You weren't," the Doctor says. His voice shakes a little.

 You open your eyes to look at him, and you counter his watery gaze with your own. The Doctor blinks, gently pulling his hand out of your grasp only to wipe away a tear. "Don't cry," he says.

 "M'not crying," you sniffle, managing a smile. "Sorry."

 "No, none of that," the Doctor chides. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead - then, lower, pressing a kiss to your cheek, right underneath your eye, like trying to wipe away tears. The Doctor's lips brush against the corner of your mouth and you shudder.

 "None of that," he says again, his breath warm against your face. He peers at you, raising his eyebrows in a silent question.

 You nod slowly - you've never been so sure about anything in your life, not since the day you decided to run away and join the Doctor among the stars - and the Doctor leans in and captures your lips with his.

 It feels real and is real this time, and you savor every second of it. The Doctor cups his face in your hands as he kisses you, drawing you even closer to him, and drowning is nothing compared to this, you think. He breaks the kiss for a second, making a wordless noise of satisfaction, and when he kisses you again you can feel him smiling.

 You're both breathless when you pull away. The Doctor's grinning widely, still holding your face in his hands.

 "My hearts," he murmurs, "both of them yours."

 "Well, my one heart pales in comparison to your two, doesn't it?" you ask, and the Doctor laughs again. "Don't worry. It's still yours."

 The Doctor hums in reply. Then, softly, like a promise: "I love you."

 You feel your heart swell, and when you breathe out you feel like a weight's been lifted from your shoulders. This, this is what you wanted all along - you let a smile spread across your face. It isn't a dream anymore, or an act. "I love you too. But you know that, don't you?"

 He laughs and presses his forehead against yours. "Can I kiss you again?"

 You wrap your hands around his suspenders and tug him closer – you never have to pretend again. "You never have to ask."

    “You know, I do think Mrs. Doctor does have a nice ring to it.”

 “Doctor!”

Taglist: @starlingelliot​, @hufflepuff-always-and-forever​, @littlemissslytherinprincess​, @just-a-nat​

[aureumjeon]

tiptoed his way (m) || kth

pairing; taehyung x reader. genre; roommate!au; smut; fluff; angst. warnings; breaking and entering, unintended voyeurism, female masturbation, oral (both receiving), unprotected sex via doggy style, choking, tae suffers from MSS(Monster Schlong Syndrome lol), that’s about it.  word count; 6.4K (unedited im sorry :()

summary; ➜ Taehyung found himself locked out of your shared home and there were only two options to successfully get inside. (1) Wake you up from your sleep and face the wrath that’ll follow, (2) Think like a burglar and enter through your window. (Un)fortunately for him, he picks the latter.

taglist; @bella-victoria002  @chaitaewithkookies @saddiesan  @wehadnochoice  @knjhe @thoughtsfromfaroffplaces @livorna @taetaeobsessed @erisann  @thoughtsfromfaroffplaces @wickizer

a/n: the old gif doesnt work i dunno what i did wrong :(

“I’ll be out ‘til late, y/n! Don’t wait up for me.” Taehyung hollered while lacing his worn out white high-cut converse in the entryway. Hoping his voice would reach the end of the hallway where you were currently cooped in in your room. 

 “Alright! Stay safe!” Not bothering to leave your room, you answered back. Voice echoing through and bouncing off the dry walls. After waiting a few minutes, you heard the door slam shut with a thud. You cautiously tiptoed your way to the direction of your door, slightly opening the solid block of wood and peeking through the narrow crack you made. With no Taehyung in sight, you pumped your fist in the air and cheered victoriously. You finally have the house to yourself. You beamed with delight scurrying yourself over to the kitchen to make yourself a hot steaming bowl of instant ramen. 

 Taehyung and Jungkook had been your room mates since you can remember. It was freshman year of college, and you were looking for a cheap place to stay with the money you saved up working as a part-time student during your last year of highschool. A friend had introduced you to Jungkook, saying they needed one more person to split the bill with, broke college students need to support each other. At first you were hesitant, a girl living with two boys in a shared house wasn’t you initial plan but as the days go by since you first moved it, you got to know Taehyung and Jungkook a little more. Your friendship with them had gotten greater, the three of you were inseverable and you treasured them to bits! 

 Although in the four years you’ve been boarding together, every now and then they can really get on your nerves; letting the dirty dishes stack up at the sink until molds would flourish on the left over food; leaving the empty carton of milk in the fridge just as you’re planning to enjoy it with cereal or maybe a pack of Oreos; bags of chips and boxes of pizza scattered on all parts of the living room floor whenever they’d have movie night on Fridays with Jimin and Hoseok; and last but not least, the thing that they always do that grinds your gears the most, their dirty laundry in every corner, nook, and cranny of the house. Stinky socks, sweaty shirts, crusty jeans and even used underwear, you name it!

One time you had guests over; all girls might you add, studying for a group project in chemistry. Oh poor, sweet Yeri… Her unsullied innocence mercilessly corrupted by Jungkook’s disgusting underwear that had a suspicious dried up patch of white something on the crotch area of the small fabric. Yeri almost fainted when she pulled out the article of clothing from the kitchen caddy, flinging it across the room to where the other girls were. You scolded Jungkook the same day, advising him to keep all his stuff where it needed to be kept and on top of that to apologize to the poor girl he scarred for life. Which he did, and that’s the story of how Jungkook and Yeri’s relationship began. Who knew, right?

 Taehyung was like Jungkook at first, but somehow he decided to stay under your radar as best as he could. Once you lectured him on something he’s done wrong inside the quarters of your home, he’d make it a point to engrave it on the back of his head. He has his fuck ups every now and then, but nothing too consequential. There was one time though, and you wish you could forget, that he brought a girl home which wasn’t against the house rules. Jungkook had brought Yeri numerous times and you, yourself, had your fair share of men visiting the house, specifically your room. It was s well established etiquette to keep the ruckus down since you we’re sharing this living space between the three of you. But during that critical time, which you’ve spoken to Taehyung and Jungkook beforehand never lacking to remind them on multiple occasions throughout that day. Telling them to please keep the noise to a minimum because you'll be revising for for a major exam that was equivalent to forty percent of your total grade. Somehow, Taehyung managed to forget your simple and completely doable request. With the paper thin walls between you and the absence of soundproofing, you were able to get every moan, groan and mewl that came from Taehyung’s rooms adjacent to yours. That bastard is so dead was the sole thing on your mind right now and not the words inscribed in the textbook that you’ve read over for the tenth time that night. The morning after that horrendous night of not getting anything done, you waited irksomely in the common room for taehyung and his date to emerge from his chambers. 

 “Y/n, y-you’re up early.” He gulped, taking in your appearance. Your gaze was piercing especially with the huge dark bags under your eyes. “I’ll take Minju ho--”

 “I’m sure she knows here way back.” You cut him off with a bark in your tone, “Can’t you, Minju?” Your focus was now directed at her and she was quivering under your constant scrutiny.“Y-yes,” She clutched on her designer handbag bowed nervously before fleeing the place like a prey encountering it’s predator.

 “I asked you for one thing, Taehyung, one thing.” You lowered your head and massaged your aching temples with your fingers, placating your exasperation towards the boy who was placed in the hot seat. “You knew I was studying tonight, Tae.” The timbre of your voice wasn’t sickeningly livid anymore. From spiking up to a hundred degrees in the last two minutes, it dropped down to a negative ten. “This test is worth forty percent of my grade, I told you that. This is the first time I requested you to do something for me...”  You shut your eyes close and drew out a long sigh before standing up and intending to head back to your room. “If I fail this test, I want to let you know it’s on you, Tae.”  His features were extremely devastated and disheartened, not because of the things you just said but because of how he had forgotten all about it. 

 You inconspicuously peered back at him and the look on his face says it all. A helpless puppy abandoned by its human, that’s what he resembled most at this moment. Big glassy eyes, a wet nose and pouty lips. Okay, that was kind of a mean thing to say, you thought. But you never failed to remind him, always opening up and squeezing in the topic during the mundane conversations you shared together. After one last disappointed sigh, you looked up the clock, 6:55 am. “Anyway, I still have three more hours before the test. I’ll be in my room.” You turned your back on him and proceeded to take a few steps forward before saying one last thing to him, “Please, please, please. Don’t bother me.”  You were on your way back down the hall, nothing will stop you from cramming seven chapters of lesson into your brain in less than three hours in one sitting.

 “Sorry, Y/n.”

 Sorry ain't gonna cut it, chief.

 Its as if Taehyung was able to read your mind, “ I’ll- I’ll be on bathroom duty. For two, no, four weeks. Yeah, yeah. One month of bathroom duty, Y/n. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to forget.”

 You glanced over your shoulder and caught a glimpse of Taehyung with his hands clasped together, his facial expression pleading for forgiveness. You knew he was really sorry. Why? Because nobody liked bathroom duty, not even you.

 “That seems fair to you, kook?” You spontaneously asked, making Taehyung scan the living room area. Glass started clattering in the kitchen and your doe-eyed bunny-boy of a roommate came hopping in. Taehyung was seeking compassion from his long-time comrade. Maybe shortening his time on bathroom duties or lending him a helping hand at least. Bros before hoes, right? “For the record.” Jungkook started, taking a sip from the cold banana milk bottle in his hand. “You kept me up, too. And I have football practice at eight.”  He shrugged his shoulders casually before hiding back in his man cave. “Have fun cleaning, Tae.” 

 Your chiding was for everyone’s best interest, may this incident serve as a lesson of respecting other people who also lives in this household. Although there was one thing you were still unsure about. After that episode, Taehyung has never set foot in the premises with a woman draped around his arm again. You hoped you did not terminate his hopes of getting a love life.

 In conclusion, they’re just a bunch of stupid college boys wanting to survive this hell hole, what do you expect? So, having the house to yourself was a once in a blue moon moment you’d never take for granted. 

++

It was two in the morning, and Taehyung was stupidly perched at the doorstep patting his pockets for what seemed like the tenth time in the last ten minutes searching for his keys. "Shit."  He grumbled under his breath, taking out his phone from his back pocket and calling up Jungkook's number. After the third try, he finally answered the call.

"H-hey, what's up? I love you and all that shit but why are you calling at two in the fucking morning?" The voice is the other line was dry and scratchy. 

"Ah," Taehyung felt apologetic for waking up the Jungkook but he absolutely needed help, "Sorry for bothering you, Kook. Do you happen to know where the spare key is? Left my copy in my room before I went out and now I'm locked out of the house," He laughed embarrassingly, attempting to check his pockets one more time before calling it quits, wishing his keys would magically turn up in one of them.

"Taehyung…" The line suddenly went silent, it was a good fifteen seconds before Jungkook went on speaking,"Didn't I tell you that I'm holding onto the spare key to have it duplicated since my I lost my copy?"

There it was again, complete and utter silence. If it wasn't for irregular breathing coming from the other line, Jungkook would've guessed Taehyung had dropped the call already.

"Just wake up y/n, I'm sure she wouldn't mind." Jungkook suggested, that was probably the best route to take. 

"No bro," Taehyung's tone was unnaturally dark and empty.

"Can I ask why?"

"L-Last time I locked myself out and woke up y/n," he choked on his series of words, recalling the traumatic event that occurred in the past. "She made me wait a whole hour before opening the door. While I was waiting out in the cold, y/n cooked bacon and pancakes at midnight just to spite me. The smell of the food made my stomach flip and growl. When she finally let me in, she ate it all by herself while looking me straight in the eye."

Jungkook on the other line laughed uproariously at Taehyung's untold story, "Remind me not to get on Y/n's bad side. But in all seriousness, how are you planning to get inside the house?" He queried the boy who was stuck in an unfortunate predicament."I don't get back til' Sunday. And it's only Friday."

Taehyung's eyes lit up like those light bulbs in cartoons when the characters gets a genius idea. "Is your room the one without the safety locks on the window?"

"One, no. My windows have safety locks. Y/n's window is the one without it. And two, that's a really bad Idea, Tae."

"What's a bad idea, babe?" Taehyung indistinctly overhears a hushed voice in the background. His conversation with Jungkook probably woke up Yeri too. "Oh, Taehyung's planning to enter through y/n window to get into the house." Jungkook made sure that taehyung was hearing what Yeri had to say, since she's been friends with y/n just as long as them. Her giggles were so innocent, akin to a baby but the words she said were the exact opposite. "That is a stupid idea, unless Taehyung wants to be hit on the head with a metal baseball bat and bleed to death." 

"Yeri said that that's a stupid idea unless you--"

"I heard what she said. And I won't even make a sound! I'll tiptoe my way through her window and out of her room in a flash! That way I'll be in the house and won't have to wake up y/n! I see this as an absolute win." Taehyung broadcasted triumphantly like he had discovered the map to the lost City of Atlantis. 

Yeri snatched the phone from her boyfriend's hand and lectured Taehyung y/n style. "Tae, this isn't the time to be quoting the Incredible Hulk when you're the one who's gonna be beaten to a pulp when y/n wakes up and mistakes you for a burglar. Just wake up y/n and ask her to open up the door for you. It can't be that bad, you'd live a longer life that way. Face the consequences of being a pee-brain."

"Nope," It seemed like Taehyung had made up his mind, and when Taehyung makes up his mind, there's no point in stopping him.

"Ahhh, tell your friend good luck. I'm going back to sleep." Yeri gave back the phone to her boyfriend. "You have our regards. If you don't die, call me back in the morning." A loud yawn can be heard from Jungkook's end as he hangs up.

And that's Taehyung's go signal.

++

He stealthily made his way round the perimeter of the house to the side where your room was located "Bingo." He mused as he spotted your window, slightly left ajar. He strategically maneuvered his way across the flower bed embedded on the ground, calculating his steps accurately not wanting to step on your precious roses and daffodils. He knows he can't lie to you, if asked who trampled on your bloom, he'd rat himself out in a blink of an eye. He'd like to enjoy a long flourishing life. Grow old, get married and possibly have kids and grandkids. 

Not like what he's about to commit will spare his life either way.

 Even with the lack of light and the gauzy material of the curtain, his eyes could make up your vague figure on the bed, tossing and shifting your legs about. Must be some crazy dream you're having, he thought. Though he can't get a clear view of you, he's certain you were there.

 He sucked in a deep breath and slowly pushed the unlocked window wider just enough so that he can slither his body inside, dragging the curtain along with it. He prayed to the heavens above that the hinges doesn't make a sound, not even a tiny squeak or his head will be the one hanging from the valances.

 With his hands securely clasped on the window sill, he utilized his upper body strength to propel himself up until his knees were secured on the narrow wooden surface. "Phew" he shakily exhaled, switching from his current kneeling position to a crouching one, gaining more balance for his following steps. 

 Before fully entering your room now that he had obtained a better view, he decided to take a proper look at your charming unconscious face. Wait, scratch that, that didn’t come out right. What he meant to conclude was… 

When Jungkook first introduced you to him as their new flatmate, he couldn’t help but be blown away. He was thunderstruck when he was graced by your overwhelming presence. Soft silky hair that he’d like to get bury his face in, letting the scent of your shampoo take over his senses; Round bright eyes that somehow carried the countless stars and galaxies, he’d willingly surrender himself just to get lost in them. A lovely button nose that scrunched up when you smiled and introduced yourself for the first time. “I’m Y/n, nice to finally meet you Taehyung.” he remembered clearly, god, how can he forget. Your soft-spoken voice perfectly fitted your delicate face. It was love at first sight, what else could it be? He fell for you hook, line and sinker. 

 He covertly watched over you, not in the stalker-ish way, of course. Whenever you’re lounging around in your favorite pajamas or simply tidying up the house, he’d inevitably find a small smile creep up on his lips. Even just knowing that you’re inside the house when he comes home from the university by the way your favourite music was blaring from your room made him happy. He learned along the way that you were really introverted, spending most of your weekends at home reading your favourite novels  and choosing to withdraw yourself from the generic college scene. Opting for a movie night date with your friends rather than partying at some musty frat house. Moreover, you didn’t strike up any conversation with him or Jungkook unless it was about the house or if it was that important to talk about. Unbeknownst to you, all the things you detested like unwashed dishes or misplaced dirty laundry, he did it on purpose just to get the attention he craved from you. Sometimes he felt guilty at the way he acted whenever you were around, a pout or two on your upset face.

 But he came to the point that he was tired of hiding and playing safe behind that thin line called “Friendship.”If he wasn’t gonna man-up and take action, nothing’s gonna change. So on your twentieth birthday, that’s when he decided he wanted to confess his love for you, hoping that the unrequited becomes requited. He bought a cake and decorated the whole house with a banner, balloons and streamers. He even paid Jungkook fifty dollars to keep his mouth shut about it. 

 What happened after was far from his or Jungkook's expectations. You came home from a date. A date which none of them knew about but here you were, wide eyed and jubilant to see the simple surprise party your dear roommates took the time to prepare for you. You introduced the boy standing next to you as your boyfriend. "Boyfriend" that word stung like a bitch. 

 It was then that he decided to put an end to this one-sided pinning that has been going on for quite some time now that hasn't bloomed into anything, not even a tiny sprout. If the stars were aligning and the universe was really on his side, he would have been your boyfriend by the end of the day, not some guy named Lucas. 

 Every other night he'd return with a girl to his room for nothing more than a quick fuck, never meeting with them for a second time. He thought it was something that would dull the agonizing throb in his chest, it worked for the most part. The bodily pleasure those women brought him made him forget momentarily about everything he's ever felt for you. He thought it was only a matter of time until all the feelings he'd kept would dissipate into thin air. 

 Minju, he recalled. A girl who was just as perfect as you in his eyes, well almost. With the thought of taking Minju home and having her all to himself as a priority in his mind, he got carried away and overlooked one critical thing you asked of him which was on top of that a principal house rule the three of you agreed on. "Always keep the noise to a minimum."

 He knew he fucked up the moment he spots you sitting on the couch glaring at him as he and Minju walked out of his room. He saw the look of disappointment etched on your face at how he had let you down and recognized how bad he fucked up. He thought that you’d never forgive him and end up hating him for the rest of his life, but you always kept proving him wrong. A familiar box was atop the center island with a pink sticky note attached to it. 

"I'm sorry I got mad at you, Tae. It was probably the stress talking. Btw, I passed aced the exam! Hehe. <3 y/n.”

That was when he realized he truly did not deserve you. 

++

His profound daydreaming was put to a halt when he heard a hushed moan originate from your direction. His jaw almost unhinged at how low and wide it was hanging from his face at the sight he has failed to notice prior to entering your room. A convoluted expression was apparent on your face, with your brows knitted together, and eyes shut tight, upper teeth frustratingly nibbling at your bottom lip. Your left hand hidden under the sheer fabric of your shirt, kneading at your mound lavishly while the fingers on your other hand were tirelessly circling around the glistening flesh between you spread legs. You weren’t sleeping, you were masturbating! 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Gotta get out. Gotta get out. Gotta get-- 

 His whole life flashed before his eyes as he witnessed the mason jar you used as a flower pot unexpectedly gets knocked over by his rogue foot, emanating in a clangorous noise as it hit the seat of your metal chair tucked under your desk. There were numerous circumstances that he wished he could get out of certain situations unscathed, which as luck would have it he did. This one? Not so much as your instincts urged you to direct your attention to where the abrupt sound came from. He saw your bewildered eyes staring at his squatting figure by your window.

 Taehyung quickly slammed his palms over his face concealing his eyes while blindly steering his body farther into your room, knocking over your other stuff in the process. As his feet finally met solid ground, it was now time to plead for his life. “Y/n! Shit! I-I can e-explain. I l-left my keys! A-and I didn't want to wake you up. I didn't mean seeing that!" He heard the sound of his rapid heart beat resonate in his ears, ringing so loudly that he couldn't even hear himself think.

 You found his flustered stuttering adorable and endearing. You weren't angry and knew he was telling the truth. Taehyung, no matter how brazen and badly behaved he was, has not ever lied to you. You can take his word for this one but a little teasing hasn't killed anyone. “Never perceived you as the peeping type, Tae."

 "I swear, I'm not!" His cheeks started burning red, the scorching heat of embarrassment crawling up to his ears and down his neck.

 You didn't answer him right away, and all he could make up with his vision temporarily impaired was the shuffling sound of your bedding and the indistinct footsteps walking towards him. "Well since you're here, might as well help your roommate out." You whispered suggestively in his ear, and he felt his jeans grow a little tighter by the crotch.

You pressed your body against his until the corner of your desk was painfully digging into his back. "What do you say, Tae?"

 "I-I don't think this is right." He respired weakly, his knees were starting to buckle at the figurative weight weighing down on his shoulders with palms still stuck to his eyes.

 "Wanna know what I think." You purred salaciously, the tip of your pointer finger lightly tracing over the skin of his clavicle. "I don't think this is a question of what's right and wrong," Your hand started to head south, stopping precisely at his sternum, your fingers drawing small figure eights over it. "I'm single, your single."You further proved your claim, hand once again dropping lower. Taehyung wasn't much of a gym rat like Jungkook or Jimin so he didn't have any abs. But you still appreciated his body nonetheless, especially paired with his remarkably attractive face. "I see this as a question of want and don't want. And judging from this," without warning, you cupped the hard-on he was sporting. Waves of electricity surged through his blood vessel, every cell in his body had doubled its working pace. "You want this as much as I do." Slowly, you palmed him through his jeans, fingers molding the curve of his clothed dick. His heart rate spiked and breathing got more labored with your words and actions.

He wanted to see you. He wanted to remove his hand from his face and see how the moonlight shining through your window illuminated your appearance, enhancing your elegant features tenfold but he was terrified that this will lead to something that will eventually ruin your friendship.

 "Taehyung..." You whimpered, starting to feel impatient. "Say something. Tell me what you want. Tell me to stop, please just say something." 

 "I-I," Fuck it, he thought. He detached his hands from his eyes and encased it around your petite torso, finally giving in to the treacherous temptation that is you. "I want you, y/n." He dipped his face in the curve of your neck, filling himself  up with the sweet scent of you. "I've wanted you for the longest time, y/n." His voice was guttural and strained, he'd never thought the time of him finally confessing to you would come. It required him every tendril of his being to finally come clean. An abandoned door that was once locked has instantly been pushed open, and his desire for you has never been more ardent.

"I want you too, Tae."

++

Moments later you've found yourselves entangled within each other's embrace, caught in a sweltering and heart racing make out session. Every brush of lips and prod of tongue was burning of lust and passion. The way your fingers intertwined with his and filling its spaces perfectly like the final piece of an unfinished puzzle. It felt so natural, the way the rise and fall of your breathing and the tempo of your pulses fell in sync. It felt like something that should've been done ages ago but was hindered by something unforeseen.

 As he hovered above your frame, you couldn't help but be drawn in the boundless sea of his deep hazel eyes. Wisp of his curled lashes resting prettily on his eyelids, the tip of his pointed nose dusted a shade of baby pink and lips pursed into a gentle smile. He observed you with hooded eyes as you absentmindedly stared at his face. You couldn't comprehend how a mere human can bear this much beauty and elegance in his mortal body, even the gods would seethe in jealousy at his splendor.

 "T-tae. I want to feel your dick down my throat." You professed bashfully, marvelling at his beauty can wait. Right now there was one thing you fervently wish for, him and his entirety. 

 Your bluntness was always one of his favourite traits of yours. "I'm all yours." He replied, placing an affectionate kiss on your lips. 

 "Stand at the edge of the bed." You instructed, going on all fours and crawling your way to the same spot. "C'mon!" 

 Taehyung with arched brows headed to where you wanted him, planting his feet firmly on the carpeted floor. "Okay, now what?"

 "I've always wanted to try like this." You pressed on, lying on your back with your head almost hanging off the edge of the bed, slightly propping it up with a small pillow. Taehyung was caught off guard with your new position, “Y/n, what are you doing?” He queried with an arch of his brows.

 “I’m ready to take your dick.” You seemed determined, sweeping your loosened hair away from your face and tucking it behind your ears. “Saw this in porn before and I’ve been itching to try it out.

 You just kept pulling out tricks from your sleeve, Taehyung never imagined you to be the type who watches porn. “You watch porn?” He incredulously questioned eyes going wide that hinted inquisitiveness.

 “Oh please, I am a human being. Stop looking at me like I’m some saint. I can watch adult videos whenever I want to.” 

 “Fair enough,” He acknowledged while unbuckling his belt, revealing the stiff bulge tucked in his boxer. He tugged the garterized hem of his underwear down and allowed his member to spring free.

 You were genuinely astounded with his impressive size and girth, tip red and already leaking pre-cum. “From all the years we’ve been living together, I kinda expected you were big, but not this big. Didn’t know you were suffering from MSS.” 

 “MSS?” he eyed you outlandishly, having no idea what you were talking about.

 “Monster Schlong Syndrome.” You answered as you tried suppressing the mischievous smile forcing its way onto your lips. 

 “Shut up, Y/n.” Taehyung’s cheeks grew rosier at your compliment about his dick, but he still preferred being humble about his size even when he was with other girls.

 “Make me,” You provoked him, opening your mouth fully and sticking out your tongue. Feeling rather wolfish to have him in your mouth.

 “Are you sure about this?” He queried you one last time, making sure you were a hundred percent okay with this. “I’m the one beginning to feel uncomfortable with your position.”

 “I’m fine, Tae. I want this.” 

 He couldn’t help stroking himself while taking in the image of you sprawled on the bed eyes totally blown-out. Begging and lusting over his cock. Taehyung gently tapped his length on your cheek,causing a smirk to form on your lips. “Stopped teasing,” You wailed vexingly, growing eager by the second. You tossed your head back even further while opening your mouth much wider, giving Taehyung a greater angle.

 “You ready, baby?” His already deep voice dropped an octave lower, a sultry and sickeningly honeyed tone slathered all over his words. You crossed your legs together feeling the steamy heat pool between them as you nod fervently. 

 Unhurriedly, Taehyung pushed the tip of his cock past your lips. The warmth and wetness of your mouth elicited a satisfied groan from him. He pushed even further down your throat, sheathing himself completely and noticing how tight the space has gotten as he descends. “Fuck, baby. Your mouth feels so good,” he euphorically moaned seeing how your pretty mouth is stretched by his thick cock.

You blissfully purred at his praise, and the vibrations of your throat around his member sent a chill down his spine. “I-I’ll start moving, okay.” He choked on his word, his senses brimming over with the buzz of pleasure. At a leisurely pace, he began gliding his dick in and out of your hot cavern, hearing lewd squelching sounds  with every push. “Shit,” He rasped when you hollow your cheeks around him. “Your mouth is the best, baby.” He quickened the speed of his thrusts, savouring the constricted hold you’ve got on him. Tears started to pool at the corners of your eyes as your mouth was bombarded with the repetitive jabbing motion. You’ve never felt this full before, the way he has you gorged put you in a state of pure ecstasy.

 Taehyung shifted his veiny hand to caress your face, wiping away the wetness from your corners of your eyes. With his balls slapping right into your face, you failed to capture his pupils dilate and the concupiscent glint in his dark orbs. His hand found its way at the base of your neck, favouring the tug of the skin, muscles and bones outlined beneath the surface. His slender, bony fingers spread across the expanses of your neck, petting the strained muscle domestically. His digits started to curl around the base, the blunt of his fingernails digging into your skin and you felt the restriction of air affect your lungs.

Taehyung knew you were enjoying this as much as he was even with you gagging and choking on his dick. He exerted more pressure on your jugular, and you felt your body sink further into the mattress. He thwarted his hips into you once more, deeper than before as his wanton howls reverberated inside your room. Before he could blow his load in your mouth, he stopped himself and pulled out his swollen cock coated with your spit.

 You opened your eyes and griped at the sudden sensation of barrenness, "W-why'd you stop?" You felt light headed, your body eventually recognized the lack of oxygen you underwent. Your chest hurriedly heaved up and down as you were gasping for air, trying to catch your breath.

 "This is my first time fucking you, the only place I'll be cumming in right now is your pussy." Taehyung wickedly grinned, looping his arms behind your neck and knees and carried you bridal style. He walked over the side and carefully lowered you on the bed, head snuggly resting on the pillow leaned on the headboard. He made his way back to the foot of the bed, taking a seat directly in front of your bare core. "Since I interrupted you earlier," his hands began stroking you calf, tiny goosebumps springing up from his touch. "Let me make it up to you and make you feel better than those little fingers of yours."

 You detected a hint of embarrassment as Taehyung's gaze focuses on you already seeping sex. He began crawling closer to you core, tipping in to pepper kisses on your inner thighs. As his warm breath began rousing over your skin, you couldn't help but clench around nothingness at the level of arousal you were experiencing. "What were you thinking about when you were pleasuring yourself?" He cooed the question out before licking a wet stripe along your moistened slit. His tongue was dancing in his mouth after finally acquiring a taste of your delectable nectar. "I-I was thinking about you, Tae." You answered weakly, the pad of his thumb now circling your sensitive nub. He hummed in approval at you words, his tongue was the one promptly to devote its undivided attention to you bundle of nerves. "What was I doing then?"

 You released a long exhale when you felt Taehyung slip on of his slender fingers inside your hole. "I-I thought about how you'd fuck me with your huge cock," You admitted, shutting your eyes as he twirls his finger inside you. He inserted another digit, and it got you tossing your head back in fervor. "How you'd make me cum so hard.”Your eyes reeled back at the back of your head as another finger slips into you with such ease. 

 “You’re soaking wet, y/n.” he was prideful of how you’ve become putty under his ministrations, “And all for me.” He sloped down once more and flicked your clit with his wet muscles at an excruciating pace. You started feeling yourself clench around his digits, “W-wait.” You intervened, not wanting to release just yet. “I want to cum with you.” 

 He devilishly grinned from ear to ear and flipped your body over, your knees and palm bearing the weight of your exhausted body. “Wanna hit you from the back so bad.”

 You lowered your torso and arched your back inwards, excessively sticking your ass up on full display. Taehyung smeared the accumulated pre-cum on the tip of his cock all over his length, painting it with the lubricating substance. He aligned himself with your entrance and gingerly drove his hips forward until he bottomed out. “Fuck, y/n. You’re cunt’s even tighter than your pretty mouth.” the interior walls of your vagina squeezed at his member, accommodating his length incomparably. “Your pussy was made for me, y/n. Best pussy I’ve ever had.”

 As much as you fancied him to rant about how amazing your pussy was, you wished he’d just shut up and pound you into oblivion and put an end to the tormenting ache bubbling inside you. “Move.” You sought, pushing your rear end against him hard and coaxing him to ultimately move.

 His knuckles were turning white at how tight he’s gripping onto the curve of your hips, nails engraving small crescent-shaped marks on your skin. Without warning, he launched the onslaught of the brute ramming of his dick into you. Each thrust he bore were insanely crisp and accurate, striking your sweet spot with every jab. The sound of skin slapping against skin and your heavy breathes were the only tunes filling the silent space of your room. Taehyung pulled out his length almost completely, appreciating how coated and soaked it was with your juices, awakening another entire level of his vehement lust for you. He slammed himself back into your tight slit, clenching his buttocks and rutting his pelvis at an inhuman speed.

 “I’m so close, Taehyung.” You wailed sinfully with a high-pitched strain to your voice, aware at how every muscle in your body is tensing up. 

 “Me too, baby.” He unexpectedly towed you by your hair until your back collided with his chest. His hand located your neck yet again, wrapping his digits around it and cutting your intake of air. You swear that at the end of this, your neck would be sore, purple and bruised because of how robust he retains his grip on you. At this point, his movements began getting sloppier and imprecise, suggesting he was at last getting to his most sought-after high. His idle hand shakily made its way to your almost forgotten clit, ruthlessly rubbing at it with the pad of his fore and middle finger continuously until you were convulsing around his cock and milking him down  to the last drop. Both of your body collapsed on your bed, utterly breathless.

 “Wow.” Taehyung managed to breath out. 

 “Yeah, wow.” You repeat, steadying your breathing. “What happens now?” You awkwardly asked, staring at the blank ceiling like it was the most interesting thing in your room. 

 “Wanna go on a date?” His voice was filled with reluctance, the thrumming in his chest never calming down. Now wasn't the perfect time to ask you that kind of question. So he braced himself as he waited for your answer.

 You turned your head in his direction and looked at how the light from the now open window magically outlined his enchanting profile. “You’re way out of order but I’d love too.” 

++

Taehyung's obnoxious ringtone Disturbed the silence of your sleep.

"Your phone is ringing." You grumbled, t

"Yo, Tae, glad to hear you're still alive. Got into the house yet?"

"Yeah," He paused, looking at you. "Got into y/n pants as well."

[ratonnhhaketon]

See The Fire In Your Eyes (Chapter 4)

Read on Ao3 | Previous | Next

Summary: Catherine Hays grew up in a picture-perfect, high society family in Virginia. She had her whole life planned out for her and was about to get married to a man she could not stand. When her brother uncovers a murder plot and has to pay with his own life, Catherine decides she can’t continue playing along. She takes control of her own destiny and goes south to a pretty little town called Blackwater.

Warnings: Swearing, Canon-typical violence, Kidnapping

Chapter 4 - Misadventures In Mail Delivery

It had been about two weeks or so since the incident with the stagecoach, and Catherine had definitely been keeping busy around camp. Mrs. Grimshaw quickly put her to work with the laundry, dishes, and assisting Pearson with the stew preparation. Adjusting to the life of an outlaw was a slow and strange process, especially after never having to do regular chores prior her entire life, but it was starting to feel normal. She even picked up new skills and hobbies that she enjoyed, like sewing, despite how many times she pricked herself while Tilly taught her the basics.

Catherine awoke to a particularly chilly morning and quickly got dressed in an effort to block out the cold air. A simple long-sleeved maroon shirt and a pair of black jeans, that she actually preferred over skirts after wearing them so often, accompanied her riding boots. She ran a brush through her tangled hair, taking time to pay special attention to a stubborn knot in the back, before putting it in a simple plait.

As she exited her small tent she raised her arms up and stretched, groaning a bit when her lower back popped a bit. Like every morning, she made a beeline to the fire and grabbed a cup of coffee.

Hosea called her over to the table he was currently sat at. “Would you mind taking a ride into town to pick up the mail?”

She gave a quick nod at him before downing the rest of her coffee. “Of course! What do we need?”

“Mrs. Grimshaw ordered some clothes and there are probably some letters for Dutch and myself.”

“Sounds good. I’ll get a move on now.” They shared a smile before Hosea returned his attention to the book in his lap and Catherine headed back to her tent. She grabbed the dark blue jacket that was slung on top of her clothing trunk before walking over to where Arthur, John, and Lenny were standing and enjoying their coffee. “Morning fellas,” she said with a warm smile as she pulled the jacket on.

The group replied with their own nods and small ‘morning’s of acknowledgement before she spoke up again. “Well I’m heading into town to grab the mail, any of you need me to pick up somethin’ from the store?”

Arthur spoke up first. “A pack of cigarettes would be nice.”

~~~~~

She looked between the other two as they just shook their heads. “Can do, Mr. Morgan. I should be back in an hour or so.”

The ride into town went smoothly as always. Catherine passed only a few people on the road, as the sun was still just over the horizon, and stopped at the post office first. She collected everything they needed, a stack of letters addressed to the ringleaders of the gang and a package for Miss Grimshaw. She securely strapped the package to the back of her horse before slipping the letters into the saddlebags and walking to the general store.

Catherine made a quick lap around the store, picking up Arthur’s request as well as a can of peaches for herself and some candies for Jack. As she stood at the counter to pay she felt someone staring at her and quickly looked around the store before taking note of the man paying a little too much attention to the box of biscuits in his hand. She passed the clerk a few bills before gathering her things and returning to her horse.

As she was putting the things into the saddlebags, that same looming presence of someone watching made itself known once again. Catherine quickly slipped the cigarettes and chocolate bar into the inner pocket of her jacket before she mounted and spurred her horse into a gallop to get out of town as fast as possible. When she was barely half a mile out of town the sound of steady hooves following her seemed to grow louder with each passing moment. She spared them a quick glance over her shoulder before turning off of the road and into the thick forest of Tall Trees.

Her mare protested every time she was spurred on to keep up her pace, but the stead never once slowed down. Catherine ducked and weaved through low hanging branches, keeping a hand held out in front of her face to avoid any collisions.

The sound of hooves only faded for a moment as she ducked into the forest before reappearing almost twice as loud. A small “shit!” escaped her lips as the sound of hooves and the edge of Tall Trees grew closer.

Catherine failed to realize that she was nearing a small cliff and, before she could slow down, her horse slid down the slope uncontrollably. Her mare began to freak out, frantically trying to regain its footing on the loose dirt and rocks, and bucked her off in the process. She fell to the ground with a hard thud, pain in her chest and the air fully gone from her lungs.

Between ragged breaths as she lay on the ground, trying to regain her breathing, she noticed the sounds of hooves had stopped and steady footsteps crunching leaves began to approach her. She tried to reach for her pistol but one of the men shot a bullet next to her head, obviously missing on purpose.

“The boss is gonna be very happy about this,” the other man chucked. The last thing she saw was her mare sprinting off in the direction of camp before the butt of a rifle knocked her out cold.

~~~~~

“Hey, Lenny!” Arthur called to the man on guard duty as he walked towards his horse. “Has Miss Hays gotten back yet?”

He adjusted the rifle in his hand as he turned to look back at the man behind him. “No, I haven’t seen her.”

“Damn, I could use that pack of cigarettes she promised.” No sooner than the words left his mouth did the steady gallop of hooves start to approach the camp. The two men looked towards the sound expecting to see the woman they were just discussing, but were met with her dark brown mare barreling down the path. Arthur, wasting no time at all, instinctively put his hands up to slow the horse and grab the reins. He calmed her down enough that she stopped moving, though she was still shaking her head and huffing from the unfamiliar contact.

The two men shared a glance before Lenny spoke up. “Well,” he exhaled. “This ain’t good.”

~~~~~

The world was a haze around Catherine as she started to come to her senses. The room she was in was mostly dark, with a small stream of light peeking in from the torn curtain. She blinked a few times to get her eyes adjusted to the space around her. It was a small room, with a mattress pushed against the opposite corner of the room and a table covered in playing cards and empty cigarette cartons next to her.

Her mouth was dry and tasted like metal. Her vision was still blurry from the darkness, but she could still tell her eyes were very swollen. Despite her whole body screaming and protesting against her, she tried to move. Her muscles ached against the rope tied around her hands and legs.

She stopped struggling when a male voice spoke up outside. “How much longer do we have to be in this shithole?”

Another man replied, “Another day or two, probably. Just waiting on Calvin to send word for us to send her back.”

She felt her stomach churn. Of course he was behind this.

The door to the cabin swung open and she could vaguely make out the shape of a man walking towards her. “Look who’s awake, boys!” As he walked closer she recognized the figure to be the man that shot at her earlier.

“I’d rather die than go back to that rat,” she spat, struggling against the ropes.

The man laughed and crouched down next to her. “As much as I would love to make that happen,” he said with a smile. “I’m afraid Mr. Foster specifically requested you be returned alive so he could decide exactly what to do with you.” He lifted up a hand to her cheek, stroking the soft skin with his thumb. God , she wanted to throw up. Or punch him in the face. “Pity though, that he gets to have all the fun with you. I bet you’d make a very-”

Before he could continue she moved her face to the right towards his hand and bit down hand, directly at the base of his thumb. He yanked his hand back and grabbed it, making sure that he wasn’t bleeding. Catherine looked at him with fire in her eyes and he returned the gaze with pure anger. “You bitch!!” he yelled, using his opposite hand to slap her across the face. Her head went back and hit off the hardwood of the wall behind her, a yelp of pain escaping her lips. The world started to spin around her and her vision started to get hazy. She vaguely heard the man spew some string of curse words at her before she blacked out.

~~~~~

The second time she woke was to gunfire outside of the small cabin. The men that captured her were not only yelling a lot between each other, but she had a feeling that they were losing the fight as well.

“Check inside, we’ll keep watch out here,” a distant voice said. It sounded hazy and muffled as it broke through the ringing of her ears.

The door to the house opened and she tightly shut her eyes from the heavy moonlight. After a moment she opened them to see a figure approaching her, to which she instinctively curled her bruised body further into a ball. Her figure shook violently from fear and the cold air surrounding her.

“Hey, s’okay. I ain’t gon’ hurt ya.” the figure spoke up in a soft tone. The voice was deep and gravelly but also gentle. One that felt familiar and safe.

She looked up with tears in her half-lidded eyes and said, “Arthur?” Her voice was weak and sounded almost like a wheeze.

“Shhh, it’s alright. We’re gon’ getcha outta here.” He carefully cut the ropes on her arms and hands. “Can ya walk?” When Catherine slowly shook her head Arthur bent down to slide his arms under her legs and behind her back. He hoisted her body up- to which she let out a loud cry of pain- and walked back out of the small cabin, careful to not hit her against the doorframe. She rested her head against his chest as they walked to try and stop the world from spinning around her.

For the first time in what was probably days she felt safe.

“Take her back to camp,” another voice spoke up. “We’ll stay back for a bit and make sure no one is left.” Arthur sat her on the front of his horse’s saddle and carefully got in behind her to assure she wouldn’t fall during the ride.

As they rode off back towards camp Catherine kept her head propped up against Arthur’s chest with her eyes closed, desperately trying to ignore the aching pain her body felt as the horse galloped. Her right hand clutched the front of his shirt, her legs dangling over the side of the horse, and a few stray tears leaked out of her eyes.

“Well be back soon, just stay with me.” She felt his chest rumble against her head as he spoke and groaned out in pain, to which he instinctively wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I know it hurts but we’ll be back soon.”

She started to feel lightheaded and groggy. Using the last of her strength, Catherine opened her puffy eyes and looked up at Arthur. “Wasn’t.. O’Driscolls,” she murmured, voice nearly giving out at the end.

The last thing she heard was Arthur’s confused “What?” before her field of view was swallowed into blackness and she slipped out of consciousness again.

~~~~~

Catherine didn’t remember much of what happened after that. She remembered a lot of yelling, people rushing around, and what she thinks was Arthur and Lenny talking. When she was finally fully conscious she woke up to a very dry mouth and almost every part of her body in pain. She looked at her surroundings and realized she was back at camp, in her tent, with Hosea reading a book beside her cot. Upon noticing her awake he smiled and shut the book, and reaching for a cup of water he had resting on the crate next to her.

“Good to see you awake, Catherine.” He helped her lean up and drink, reminding her to go slow and breathe so she didn’t choke. “You gave us all quite the scare.”

Before she could reply the flap to her tent was opened and Arthur’s familiar hat peaked in. “Glad to see you’re up.”

She felt the corner of her mouth turn up in a light smile at his voice. Hosea waved Arthur in and stood before saying, “I’ll let you catch her up on everything, but make sure she eats something and gets a lot of rest.” He gave Arthur a pat on the arm before leaving and closing the tent’s canvas.

“How..” she started, struggling to speak as her throat was still sore and voice was almost gone. “How long was I out?”

Arthur sat down in the chair next to her and leaned back. “A few days. You’ve been in and out a couple times, but never as aware as ya’ are now. Hell, Reverend was considerin’ reading you yer last rights last time you were conscious.” They shared a chuckle at the thought before Arthur continued. “Took a hell of a beating back there but at least Miss Grimshaw will go easy on you for a while.”

Arthur looked at her for a second and took in her features. “Do you have any idea who those men were? ‘Cause you said they ain’t O’Driscolls when we were coming back to camp.”

She let out a sigh. “Yeah, I do.” Her gaze shifted from him to the canvas covering the top of the tent. “Calvin sent them. The man I was supposed to marry.”

He looked down at his feet and nodded, before looking back up at her a moment later. “I’m guessing he’s not too happy you left your old life?”

Catherine’s eyes returned to the man next to her. “Not at all.” She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked down at her hands, her thumbs fidgeting together in her lap. “I’m sorry you have to deal with this. I didn’t want to get you all wrapped into more problems than you already have.”

Arthur leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Catherine,” he said with a sincere tone, “You’re a part of this gang now, which makes you family. And as a family one person’s problems become a concern for all of us. If this son of a bitch shows his face again we’ll take care of it.”

She smiled at the sincerity of his words, tears threatening her eyes. The two sat in silence for a moment, enjoying each other’s company before a thought popped into her head. “Oh!” she said suddenly. “Is my horse alright?”

Arthur chuckled at her concern. “She’s perfectly fine. An hour or two after you left she showed back up at camp without you, so me and Lenny figured you were in trouble. Real smart girl you got there, seeing as she was able to bring herself all the way back to camp on her own.”

Catherine smiled at the good news. “Thank god she’s alright.” Her eyes drifted to the trunk on the floor next to Arthur’s chair and she spotted her jacket laying on top of it. “Arthur, could you grab my jacket for me?” She gestured with her right hand to where it lay and he picked it up before gently laying it on the bed next to her. “Before I forget,” she said with a smirk as she reached into the pocket on the inner lining. “You might be wanting these.” She handed over the, now slightly squashed, pack of cigarettes to him.

He laughed as he accepted the gift, having nearly forgotten that he even asked for them. “Thank you very much, Miss Hays.”

“Consider it payment for rescuing me from my captors.”

[curly-bangtan]

Heatwave Drabble #4: like a best friend

[Heatwave // Godless // Heatwave Drabbles] <- have to read first

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: You and Taehyung run into his infamous cheating ex, only for him to introduce you as his current girlfriend. As you play along with his narrative, you can’t help but feel insecure and jealous.

Genre: drabble, very fluffy, angst, f2l, bit of fake dating

Warnings: typical emotional constipation from these two, jealous!oc, heartbreakingly boyfriend!taehyung, indirect confession that they’re both unaware of lol

Word count: 5.8k

A/N: Oh look, more jealousy? Are we even surprised at this point?? Requested by my little muffin @taexxxiiaa. Sorry to all the Heatwave fans for this constant torture of unresolved feelings. 

.

Taehyung has a habit of stuffing his face with too much food and consequently eating in pout. As he is doing right now. You watch him merrily wolf down another soy sauce-dipped slice of raw salmon and stack the miniature plate with the rest of his conquests. It’s his sixth plate.

When he’d first shown you the email he received for ‘all you can eat' sushi, your response was a firm “No.” You’re not even a fan of seafood in general, let alone raw fish. But Taehyung was persistent, insisting on what a bargain it is and how it’s sushi season right now. Sushi season, what bullshit. Another “No.” Yet when Taehyung has his eyes set on something, especially when it comes to food, there’s little that can stop him. He knows how to use his assets - batting is lashes, huffing like a baby, nuzzling into your neck - until you finally let out a defeated sigh.

So here you are, plotting how best to sneak in some wasabi into his food. This wimp has a full on breakdown at the slightest taste of spice, you can just envision his face when the wasabi burns up his nostrils and through to his ears.

That will teach him not to drag you out to sushi again.

“Why aren’t you eating your udon?” Taehyung’s eyes are wide and innocent, unsuspecting of your mischievou scheme. “Too hot?”

“Yeah, don’t want to burn my tongue.” You stir your steaming noodles, smiling to yourself.

The two of you had managed to secure a four-person booth due to his non-stop nagging to come early to avoid the queue. The restaurant is now bustling with customers and stressed waiters, the smell of Japanese food infused in the warm air. You’re both sat on one couch, while sat across you is another couple who are just finishing with their lunch. This arrangement is due to the busy demand of the restaurant, squeezing in however many impatient hungry people as they can. Though you didn’t have a problem with sharing a booth with strangers at first, Taehyung’s ravenous gorging of sushi after sushi has made you particularly self conscious.

As soon as the couple leave after paying their bill, you turn to hiss at Taehyung. “Why are you eating like that?”

“Like what?” His words are barely audible with his mouth full. “Are you gonna eat your udon or not? I can help you out if you can’t finish the whole thing.”

Ah, there it is, his infamous line - I can help you out if you can’t finish the whole thing.

Honestly, his appetite is abominable.

“Order your own udon!” You begin eating your noodles to prove that you are hungry, and you will finish the whole thing.

Taehyung tucks his hair behind his ear (you’ve recently noticed that his ears are abnormally big, which you guess explains the massive dick). Just a few days ago, you had managed to convince him to get a perm. The main selling point was: ‘all the bitches will go crazy for it, trust me’. Bitches being you.  And indeed, all the bitches are crazy for it. In the timespan at which you’ve been in this restaurant alone, you’ve caught almost every single girl checking him out, eyes flickering too often towards your booth for it to be coincidental.

When their eyes fell onto you, you would smile at them politely, yet to your surprise, they’d wear a sour expression and ignore your courtesy. You soon realised that they think you’re Taehyung’s girlfriend. Girlfriend! The thought had made you shudder and scoot further away from him.

“Nah, I need to save room for the sushi, baby.” He pats his stomach that remains annoyingly flat despite his feasting. “I need to pee, I’ll be right back. Can you order some more California Rolls and the Dragon Roll please? Oh, actually, and one more Soft Shell Crab Roll and a Tempura Shrimp as well please?”

You glare hard at his back as he scuttles out the booth and hurries to the toilet. Stupid dork. It’s only noon and he has already eaten a whole day’s worth of food. He’s going to end up vomiting his guts out if he keeps at this rate.

Still, you wave the waiter over and place his order for him. The waiter’s kind of cute, he’s got that soft wholesome look, the kind of boy you bring home to your parents. You wonder why he’s avoiding your eye and not slipping you his number. You hope it’s not because he thinks you’re with Taehyung.

A new pair of customers are being ushered to your booth across from you to replace the departed couple; it’s two pleasant looking girls this time, chatting away in blithe. This time, they reciprocate your smile with nods of their own.

Taehyung returns from the bathroom shortly, yet as he approaches your booth, he halts in his step so abruptly that you spin to face him.

“Ryujin?” The shock in his voice is unmistakable. His eyes are locked on one of the girls that’s just arrived opposite you. Static.

“Taehyung?” She gasps, returning the same surprise, pupils widening.

Ryujin? Taehyung’s never mentioned a Ryujin to you before? Who is she?

Taehyung’s face is stoic, completely stripped of its normal cheeriness. Lips pressed in a thin line, jaw screwed firmly shut. Shit… You turn to assess the girl, digging through your memory for a Ryujin, yet failing. Who the hell is she to have Taehyung react in such a way? If she were just a friend, he’d be rushing over to greet her. If she were someone he slept with, he’d subtly acknowledge her but make no big deal out of it.

Instead, he’s clenching his fists, feet planted an arm’s length away from your table.

You clear your throat, snapping him out of his trance. “You know each other?”

Finally, he glances over at you for the first time in what feels like ages. And right away, you see the disorientation in his eyes. Taehyung slowly makes his way back into the booth, sliding in beside you until your legs touch.

“Yeah, she’s my ex girlfriend.”

Oh.

Oh.

That cheating bitch.

If it weren’t for the firm hand placed quickly on your thigh as if he’d known you’d react in such manner, you would have leapt up and started screaming at her. The anger is rushing to your head all at once. You’re struggling not to chuck the stack of plates at her face.

So this is the girl who had broken Taehyung’s heart. This is the girl who gave Taehyung trust issues. But also, this is the girl who lead to you and Taehyung meeting. In every way you look at it, she is the reason why you’re in each other’s lives in the first place. So you guess you owe her a thank you after you throw a drink at her.

Taehyung doesn’t speak much about her, or at all. It’s been years since their relationship anyway, and since all his ties to her have been cut, it makes perfect sense that he’s forgotten about her. Even at the beginning, he was adamant about not thinking about her, he said it had hurt too much to even say her name. And so you were always careful about not bringing the topic up in conversation; it was none of your business anyway, it wasn’t relevant to his life anymore. There were occasional jokes here and there, but only ever made by him, and even still, you could sense the underlying hurt.

“Taehyung, it’s been so long…” Her attention was utterly transfixed on Taehyung. You might as well have been a cardboard cutout for all that matters, she wouldn’t have noticed anyway. But it must be bewildering to run into your ex who you cheated on like this. Anyone would be thrown off.

What are the chances that, not only did you come to the same all-you-can-eat-sushi place, but have also been sat on the same booth? Just your luck.

Your eyes wander back to Taehyung, fearing for his current state of mind. Your roommate is an emotional guy, as much as he likes to mask it in ridiculous humour. It would not surprise you if he just stands up and leave right now, even with his food on its way. Yet his features are calm, unbothered, his initial surprise melting away to neutrality.

“Hm… Yeah.” He doesn’t ask how she fares as she’d expected, you can see the disappointed drop in her face at his apathetic souciance. Then he turns to you. “Did you order the stuff?”

Unsure of how to interpret his sudden maturity, you just nod slowly. Quiet Taehyung is scary…

Disregarding her friend’s apparent discomfort, Ryujin presses on. “It must have been, what, more than two years now? How are you?”

Why can’t this bitch take a hint? Just shut the fuck up and order your fucking sushi. Leave him alone.

But Taehyung remains unmoved. While you are the one quietly fuming in the corner. Sensing your aggravation, he brushes his thumb on your thigh soothingly. When you lock eyes again, you’re stunned to find him completely at ease, the corner of his mouth even perking up to reassure you that he’s fine.

“I’m doing well actually.” Ryujin frowns again at his short answer. You think she’s going to give up now, but then she continues.

“You look good.” You tense. Oh don’t she dare... “I’m not doing too bad myself, I-”

Just then, the waiter cuts off the monologue she was headed towards as he brings over the plates of food you’d ordered for Taehyung. His eyes immediately flash in excitement, resuming his usual childish manner as he peels his hand from your leg and snatches his chopsticks.

“Can I get anything for you two ladies?” The waiter asks Ryujin and her companion, whose face appears flushed from the awkwardness of this situation. Ryujin, evidently annoyed by the interruption, proceeds to order.

While her attention is diverted, you quickly take this opportunity to mouth to Taehyung, “you okay?”

Striking you with an honest smile as he swallows his sushi, he nods. “Yeah, don’t worry, completely fine. Eat your udon, or it’ll get cold.” His voice is hushed, and you don’t know why you get startled when he leans closer to whisper to you.

Not entirely convinced, it’s your turn to pat his leg, almost subconsciously, as if to make sure that this really is Taehyung, your Taehyung. How is he this calm right now? Well, he’s always been a silent sulker when he’s mad, but… He doesn’t even seem one bit troubled by the sudden appearance of his ex. Not even that eyebrow twitch he gets when he’s annoyed. And in the meantime, you’re silently plotting how to magically get wasabi in this bitch’s eye.

When the waiter leaves, Ryujin turns back to Taehyung once again, scanning his ethereal features and beautifully curled long hair. No doubt regretting her shitty decision of infidelity when they were together. Finally, her eyes flicker over to you, for the first time since Taehyung’s arrival. “So who’s thi-”

“Y/N, my girlfriend.”

You choke so hard on the fat noodle you are slurping that some of the savoury broth goes up your nose. Wheezing and spluttering for air like a cat choking on a hairball, you feel all your blood rush to your reddening face, both from the lack of air and the embarrassment. Taehyung’s careless whacks between your shoulder blades isn’t helping at all. Only after downing the whole cup of green tea does your coughing finally subside.

“You okay, babe?” Taehyung realises his smacks on your back are too harsh to be boyfriend-like, so he eases it into gentle rubs. But the concern in his large brown irises are genuine nonetheless.

You glare at him. Long, hard. Before nodding and flashing him a sickly-sweet smile. Oh boy, is he going to get kicked in the ass later for putting you up to this. He seems to see the dangerous flare of your nostrils, a warning sign that he has really, most fucking definitely, made the wrong move. He gulps and smiles back nervously.

Girlfriend? Girlfriend?!

What the fuck is he playing at right now? Why did he have to lie to her like that? Is he trying to make her jealous? Or just act like he’s moved on just fine without her? You clamp your mouth shut to prevent any angry words from tumbling out. There’s nothing to do but to play along right now - there’s an enemy to face.

“Oh right, girlfriend…” Ryujin says so softly that you almost feel bad for her before remembering that this is her own doing. “I guess that must be why you haven’t replied to my text asking you to meet up then… Right?”

At that, your entire body goes rigid.

She- Does that mean- Wh-

You look over at Taehyung, mouth hanging open in utter disbelief. Ryujin has been texting Taehyung. And he hasn’t mentioned a word about it to you. Although it really shouldn’t affect you so much, it feels like a stab of betrayal.

His lips are pursed again, as he gazes up at her reluctantly. “Yeah, that’s right.”

Then his arm circles around your back and pulls you into him, fingers gripping your waist in a display of possession. At the unforeseen momentum, and still in your state of shock, your frame falls feebly into his chest. Your heart leaps to your throat. You don’t understand why but… your cheeks feel hot.

His arm, around you. His hand, holding your side. His neck, pressed on your forehead.

You’re hyper aware of everywhere he is touching you. Why, all of a sudden?

“Oh okay, um, I really wish you all the best…” Ryujin mumbles, no longer looking at you and Taehyung anymore, not sounding one bit like she means what she’s saying. Her friend beside her has resorted to scrolling through her phone at this point, cringing from this awkward exchange.

“Thanks, Ryujin. I’m really happy - never been happier in my life, in fact.” The vibration of Taehyung’s Adam’s apple reverberates into you as he tugs you even closer, arm fastened around your middle. You struggle for room, bending your neck to peer up at him from your squished position.

He’s grinning radiantly at you, and at your wide-eyed confused expression, he can’t help but lean down to press his lush warm lips onto your forehead.

You blink.

Truly, you think your brain has stopped functioning. What is going on?

He’s definitely doing this to make Ryujin jealous. That is the only plausible explanation. It makes your chest clench in bitterness. Why does he still care what she thinks? This is completely unnecessary. Does he still care about her?

And why didn’t he tell you that she was texting him?

What has she been telling him?

All this doubt, this uncertainty, manifests into a suffocating lump in your throat. You have always been completely open and honest with each other about every aspect of your lives - family, friends, work, grades, relationships, sex. Not that he owes it to you to tell you everything, but you’d just thought that it was how things worked between you. What else is he hiding from you?

But at the same time, your focus can’t stray from the way he is holding you, and the confidence in his tone. How certain and sincere he sounded. And how he pecked you so casually in public, in front of everyone. Your stomach feels funny.

As you resume your eating, you stay quiet, thinking. On the other hand, Taehyung is quiet due to fact that he has no room to speak in between engulfing California Roll after California Roll. Happily humming under his breath as he chews. The waiter returns with a tray of food Ryujin and her friend had ordered. “Here you go, would you like some green tea?”

“Oo, can you fill mine up too please.” You hastily pass him your empty ceramic cup.

“Of course. Be careful, the tea is very ho-” Just as he warns you while he refills your cup, he over-tips the pot and sends scalding tea all over your hand.

“Ow!” Quickly drawing back your boiled hand out of instinct, you yelp out in pain. Fumbling over his sorry, I’m so so sorry’s, the waiter bows his deeply apologetically, scurrying to clean up the steaming spilled liquid in a panic.

“Mate, watch out!” Taehyung sits up immediately, scrambling to wipe your soaked hand with tissues. The glare he throws the waiter could cut through glass. “Are you okay?” The concern clouding his eyes when he faces you floods your veins with a security.

“Yeah… Don’t worry, it’s just a burn.” You watch him examine your hand intently as if it’s some ancient priceless artefact that could shatter from a poke; you’ve noticed lately that he tends to do this when you’re injured. With his fringe frizzed over his forehead, lips puckered in concentration as he caress over your pink tender skin, you are helpless and unmoving. Staring at him.

“Are you sure? It’s getting kind of red…” He refuses to let your hand go. Your fingers scorch under his touch and it’s not from the tea.

“Yeah, baby, I’m fine.” Taehyung’s head whips up instantly at the way you address him. Confused for a good second, before realising that it is to play along with the fake girlfriend narrative.

Right…

Reluctantly, he lets you pull your hand out of his clutch, and only when you pick up your chopsticks to prove to him that it’s only a minor injury does he resign in his coddling and return to his food. As you glance up, you notice Ryujin’s blazing glower at your direction. You quickly look away.

In the presence of his cheating ex-girlfriend, you two no longer feel at ease to banter away as normal. You aren’t even at the liberation to have a regular conversation without her listening in on everything. So the meal passes rather wordlessly.

However, the silence births a different kind of interaction between you and Taehyung. You can’t tell if it’s just for show, or due to his innate affectionate nature, but he suddenly feels the need to display his love for skinship. Under the table, his hand once again strays to the land of your thighs, gently stroking. When you shoot him a warning glare, lest he gets any vulgar ideas, you find that he possesses no lustful intent at all. Just pure fondness for you.

Something inside you softens. You’re starting to think that he isn’t acting out of spite against Ryujin, but rather simply enjoying your company as usual.

But you know what? Screw that bitch. Not once, to your knowledge, did she apologise to Taehyung when she’s had two years to own up to her mistakes. Not until now, of all times. She deserves to get riled up.

“Taehyung-ie, can I have a bite of your shrimp?” You smile at your pretend-boyfriend sweetly. He gives you a perplexed look that says: But I thought you hate shrimp? before he clocks on with your intention.

“Of course, baby.” And without fail, just like a scene straight from a drama, he picks up the tempura shrimp and feeds it to you, eyes crescent in mirth as you open up and take a mouthful like a hungry little child. You feel a crumb flake away onto your chin, yet before you can wipe it away, Taehyung reaches it first. Chuckling, he sweeps the small speck into your mouth. But not without the slightest, most fleeting, brush of his thumb against your tongue.

The action feels… intimate. Like weirdly intimate, even for you and Taehyung’s dynamic.

Why does your breath keep hitching?

Perhaps after a second too long, you conjure a giggle in response, attentive of Ryujin’s gawk in your periphery. “Thanks, love.” The syrup in your voice is sickly sweet. God, even you want to barf.

“You’re too adorable, honey buns.” Taehyung cups your face in one hand, fingers digging into your squishy cheeks as he shakes you. Your smile drops. Adorable? Honey buns? HoNEy bUnS? Kim Taehyung is so dead.

But before you could kick him in the shin under the table, he leans in and plants his lips on yours. Soft, supple.

Oh.

Just as you think it’s only meant to be a peck, he deepens the kiss, his plump pink mouth gliding over yours smoothly. Anyone who sees would know that you’re accustomed to such action with each other from the natural comfortable manner of your kiss. Anyone could tell that you’re used to each other’s lips.

You pull away abruptly when you become conscious of many’s attention on you. With your face so near his, all you can see is how his lips draw into a smirk.

It’s unusual for you two to kiss outside of a sexual context. Because why would you? Friends don’t kiss each other unless they’re: A) dating, or B) banging. And especially in the past few weeks, you’ve been progressively kissing each other less, even during sex. Almost as if you’ve both realised how intimate it is, and all the romantic connotations that come with it.

Yet here he is, kissing you so openly in public.

Yeah, it’s just for show for his ex. But it’s still…

You don’t know.

.

After Taehyung had finally eaten to his heart’s content, the two of you had gone to study in the library. Ryujin wore a sour face in the entire duration of the meal, and you would hear low grunts of irritation from her direction. You practically felt her venomous glare on the back of your head as you were leaving the restaurant. Acting has never been your strong suit, but even you’ll admit that the two of you are putting on an Oscar-worthy performance.

You’ve been quiet, you know. It’s because of that bitter taste in the back of your throat that you still can’t get rid of at the thought that Taehyung might still care about Ryujin. Why else would he lie to her and say that you’re his girlfriend if not to get a reaction out of her?

But more so, why does it bother you so much? You wish you don’t care this much for this stupid sushi-demolisher who doesn’t deserve your time and efforts. He’s probably thinking about his next meal again while you’re here lamenting over your weird feelings.

So you keep your mouth shut throughout your study session, brewing in your acrid thoughts.

Taehyung watches you nibble at the end of your pen. How is he supposed to focus on his coursework when you’ve got that pouty expression? And since when did you not take every chance you get to take the piss out of him? He wonders what’s going on in your head.

Seeing Ryujin had been a shock, a blast from the past. It hadn’t bothered him too much to be honest, he simply doesn’t care about her anymore. A few days ago, she had sent him a message out of the blue. Out of politeness, he’d responded but kept his replies brief; it was difficult to decipher her intention at first, but it soon revealed itself. Apparently, her and Jimin went on to date for a while - good on them, Taehyung truly could not give fewer shits anymore. But their relationship deteriorated due to their incompatibility, which was predictable knowing them both. It was when she started showing interest in Taehyung, apologising and kissing his ass about how good he was to her that he decided to stop answering.

The thought of getting back with her gave him shivers.

Your reaction to Ryujin back there wasn’t unexpected at all, of course you weren’t going to react mildly to his ex. Taehyung is lucky you didn’t ‘accidentally’ spill soy sauce onto her, or start yelling at her about faithfulness and morality. Your wrath towards her actually kind of warms his heart…

You aren’t one to talk about your feelings openly, but your actions definitely speak volumes about how much you care about him.

Taehyung smiles to himself.

There is so much loyalty between the two of you, complete trust and devotion. At the end of the day, no matter what goes on between you when you’re horny fuckers, you’re best friends above all else. Fighters for each other.

Your journey back home was also rather mute, consisting of him prodding you with jokes and teases, and you putting on a half-hearted smile. Maybe you’re annoyed at him for putting you on the spot and leaving you with no choice but to cooperate as his pretend girlfriend. All this relationship-y commitment-y crap repels the shit out of you. Basically the bane of your existence.

He probably shouldn’t have kissed and coddled you that much in front of Ryujin. You detest PDA like it’s some scandalous taboo, despite being the freakiest girl he knows in the sheets. But hey, you guys had to make it convincing and believable...

Yup, the more Taehyung thinks about it, the more he’s sure you’re annoyed (or even scared off) about the fake dating thing.

“You’re quiet for someone who just met her supposed archnemesis. I thought you’d be going on and on about what a bitch she is.” He glances at your sullen side profile for the hundredth time during your commute home.

“I don’t know, not it a great mood I guess? Probably just tired.” You mumble, searching for your keys in your coat pocket. The weather is getting cold these days; Taehyung knows your fingers are very prone to freezing, especially with your refusal of wearing gloves because ‘they’re ugly’ nor would you keep your hands in your pockets because ‘it’s a safety hazard incase you trip over’.

He gets a strangely overwhelming urge to hold your hands every time he sees you wiggling your fingers to warm them up. Hmm.

Wordlessly, you enter the house with him trailing behind you. He watches your moody steps from behind as you remove your shoes and head inside. Why can’t you just tell him what you’re thinking?

With a great sigh, Taehyung slumps onto the couch, focus still on you hanging your coat on the rack and tossing your keys into the holder on the shelf. “Hey.”

You turn, regarding his wide manspread with piqued interest. “What?”

“Come here, baby, sit on my lap.” He pats the top of his thighs in beckoning. Sometimes it’s like trying to get a stray cat to come to him.

Your eyes widen at his request. But very reluctantly, you stroll towards him until you’re standing between his extended legs. “Why are you calling me baby, we’re not pretending to be dating anymore.”

Taehyung stiffens as he senses the acrimony in your tone. So this is about the girlfriend thing? It’s a risky move but he sits up and pulls you in by the back of your thighs until you have no choice but to succumb to falling onto his hips. Lips still in a tight line, your limbs come around him to hold yourself upright. In order to prevent you from escaping, Taehyung encloses his arms around your waist, trapping you in his embrace. He tries not to think about how your crotch is directly on his right now.

“Why you sad?” He looks up at you, your eyes unreadable as always. Heat from your exhale fans his forehead.

“I don’t know. Nan molla.” You shrug and do that face scrunch thing you do whenever you’re unsure that he loves. It makes you look so cute.

“Hey…” Taehyung nudges your cheek with his nose in an attempt to get you to look at him. You have a habit of avoiding eye contact, and he knows it’s stems from the intimacy issue. “What’s up, honey buns?”

“Honey buns again? Seriously?” You jerk away from him like he insulted your mother or something.

“Well, since I can’t call you baby, honey buns it is.” His chest vibrates with his deep rumbling laughter, pleased with himself to see the slightest hint of a smile finally beginning to appear on you.

“Oh my god, Taehyung. Fine, just stick with baby, I swear…” You thump him on the back, yet your stone cold exterior now being invaded by a spark of humour.

“Good. Now tell me what’s wrong, baby.”

You’re quiet for a good few seconds, contemplating. Your legs around his torso tense, you bite your lip hesitantly. Come on, just talk to me, he wishes.

“Do you still… care about her?” Voice so soft that even he struggles to hear you this close.

“What? Ryujin?” Oh, so this is about her. Taehyung knew you hated her, but never thought that you would feel… insecure? Jealous, even? “Of course not. I don’t give a single fuck about her.” At his answer, you let out the breath you’ve been holding. A breath of relief? “But you clearly seem to care too much about her.”

“I- I do not!” In a tone of disbelief, you scorn. “I just- She’s not the one I care about.”

Fuck, you’re being too cute right now.

Taehyung pecks at your chin, unable to contain his affection anymore. You continue, “Plus, why didn’t you tell me she was talking to you again? Friends tell each other this sort of thing. I always tell you everything…”

The worry on your face is truly so endearing, he feels his chest constrict.

“I didn’t mention it because that’s how little I care. She is honestly so insignificant to me right now, I could not even be bothered to waste my breath bringing it up. Yes, she meant a lot to me for a period of my life. But. That was a long time ago. I’ve moved on, no thanks to you, remember?” Your eyes gradually dare loiter up his face. “You silly sausage.”

“But-” You’re pouting again. You need to stop pouting or he won’t be able to control himself, dammit. “Why did you lie and say I’m your girlfriend then, if you weren’t doing it to make her jealous.”

Taehyung blinks. Well… Um, about that... He didn’t want to have to explain it to you but...

“It just slipped out.”

Your turn to blink vacantly. Taehyung feels blood tinting his cheeks under your gaze. Even he doesn’t know why he said it back then. It just kind of… rolled off his tongue. Should he be worried? Yeah, he should definitely be worried.

When you still fail to say anything, he hurriedly asks, “Are you mad?”

“N-No. Why would I be mad?” The way your arm slides down his neck to brush pass his chest leaves his skin tingling. He pulls your legs closer around him, hand unintentionally trailing to your rear.

“I don’t know, you just hate that kind of lovey-dovey stuff. Just figured that you’d be annoyed that I forced you to act like my girlfriend.”

“Well, I was a bit annoyed… It’s not just me, you hate that kind of lovey-dovey stuff too!” Well, not exactly accurate, but Taehyung decides not to correct you. “But did you see her face?” Your tone begins to lighten. Remembering the acerbity tainting Ryujin’s features brings you amusement.

“She looked like she was going to murder someone.” You both laugh.

“She was thirsting over you like a hound, Jesus Christ. It’s because of your perm, trust me.” Grinning, you twirl his curly fringe around your fingers. You seem to do that quite often since he got the new hairstyle.

“Wow, you really like my perm that much?” He fishes, failing to control his forming smirk. You like to give him shit about his ego, yet no one strokes it more than you do.

“No comment.” You can’t contain your radiant smile either. Taehyung makes a mental note to keep the perm.

Seeing your mood lifted makes Taehyung feel much better, safer. His arms run up your back, and he feels you shudder under his touch. You fit into his embrace so well; it’s difficult to not hug you close to him every chance he gets nowadays. There’s a dull ache in the back of his neck from craning up to look at you for too long, but he doesn’t mind it. Your fingers fall from his hair, tracing his jaw frivolously, mindlessly. It leaves an unwarranted tremble within him.

“Look, there’s absolutely nothing for you to mull about in that overthinking head of yours. I don’t even remember Ryujin’s last name if I’m being honest with you. She lost me the moment she broke my heart, and I’ll never even remotely consider getting back with her. Ever. I promise.

“So don’t act all jealous and sulky just ‘cause you misunderstood. You’re my best girl. You’ll always be my best, favourite and only girl, understand? I, Kim Taehyung, belong to you, Y/N Y/L/N. Period.” The smile of satisfaction tells him everything. You’re not as hard to please as you appear to be. “I’m yours, happy?”

“Happy.” Fuck, Taehyung’s heart is going to explode from the joyous beam growing at your lips.

“Good, because she means nothing to me at all. But you, Ms. Needy-But-I-Won’t-Admit-It? You mean everything to me. Everything.” He bounces you on his lap for emphasis, eliciting another buoyant giggle from you.

Then you do something that you don’t normally do.

You kiss him - passionately and ardently. Fingers surfing the waves of his hair, you readjust your straddling position on top of him to minimise the distance. Taehyung feels all reason in his head incrementally ebbing away. You shouldn’t be kissing, you really shouldn’t. It’s not normal to make out with your best friend. But fuck the rules. Taehyung doesn’t want to stop kissing you right now, his silly adorable honey buns.

“Just admit it. You love me.” He taunts between breaths. You freeze at Taehyung’s words. Completely freeze on his lap, hand dangling from his face, as if you’ve been shot. “Like a best friend.” You deflate, evident relief at the joke.

Taehyung has to restrain from laughing out loud. God, you’re such an easy target. The second anything one step further from platonism is suggested, you act like you’re going to pack your bags and run for the hills. But here you are, kissing him and acting all possessive. He enjoys the irony.

“Yeah I love you. Like a best friend.” You flick the tip of his nose in reprimand for his teasing.

“Good because I love you too. Like a best friend.” He holds you tight against him, proceeding to blow raspberries in your neck.

Maybe even more, he wonders.

.

27/11/19

© Copyright 2019

.

@taexxxiiaa @shookpreme @taetaeobsessed @tangledsparkles @nonexistentfucks @evilkookie @nbiased95 @taehyungmakesmeoof @itscalledgayhoney @tahaing @deliciouslydisturbed365 @expensive-bangtan-girl @jwlmnbt @herakimkim @dnyad @kaepjjang365 @expensive-bangtan-girl@gingerpeachtae @spring2787 @askingtheimportantthingshere @casualminiaturetimemachine @xblackclover13x @vasysauce @deadinsidebitch2412 @emiyooa @i-dont-even-know-fck @chimycthulhu @gixanjos @hisunshiine @xtaeyi @softjellyjimin @bluemooncnblue @malfeitofeitto @bangtanfancamp @keopitae

[hansoulo]

partial to the cavatina - pt. 2 (first date)

Pairing: Javier Peña/fem!Reader

Warnings: uhhhh cursing? fluff, general tomfoolery, javi is Soft™

Word Count: 1.14k

Gif Credit: x by @damerondjarin

A/N: takes place in season 3. i have. plans. >:) 

part one playlist

You could hear music playing on a small radio on the restaurant counter, faint and lively underneath the sounds of conversation and the dull swinging of the overhead fans. The place wasn’t fancy, which was something you appreciated. All the employees seemed to be family members, the customers locals and long-time friends. You got the feeling Javier didn’t make a habit of taking people here often.

The day was warm, easy and honey-slow the way Spanish countries always felt. A hand on the small of your back guided you to a table, the plastic chair scraping linoleum when Javier pulled it out for you. So chivalry isn’t dead.

A few minutes later and you held a drink in your hands, condensation gathering cold on your palms as you thanked the waiter.

“I don’t usually do this,” Javier admitted after a moment as you looked over the menu laid on the table. You glanced up for a moment, cocking your head.

“You don’t eat dinner?” you inquired innocently, still looking at the list of appetizers.

“What? No- I-”

“Kidding, Javier. It’s a joke. Funny. Haha,” you deadpanned, trying to keep your expression schooled to avoid laughing. It didn’t really work and a moment later you grinned, resting your face in your hands as you looked back at him. He relaxed at this, the furrow in his brow smoothing over. He looked nice. Handsome.

“I know what you mean,” you assured him. “I don’t really, either. Especially not with… Embassy agents.” You crinkled your nose a bit, recalling past dates involving tapped phones and botched pick-up lines.

“How’d you know I-”

“I see you leave the building sometimes,” you said over your drink, spinning the plastic straw around until the ice cubes rattled. “CIA?”

Javier coughed at this, shifting awkwardly in his seat. “No, uh- janitorial services.”

You offered a wry smile, raising your eyebrows. “Janitorial services, huh?” You took another sip before speaking. “So DEA?”

He let out a quiet chuckle, his own hand curled around a stunted whiskey glass. “Yeah,” Javier answered with a small sigh. “You’re a teacher, right?”

“Mhm. English and music over at the international school,” you said, pointing to the bag slung over the back of your chair. “I think I still have some assignments in there to grade.” You twisted around to pull out a small stack of thin paper workbooks, setting them down in front of him. “They’re sweet kids,” you mused. “Very... interesting.”

Javier huffed a small laugh, flipping through the pages. “Interesting how?”

“Well, you know how kids are,” you said as the waiter came by again. You both ordered and turned back to each other, chairs scooted in a bit closer than before and your bare knees brushing against denim. Everything was warm, your head growing slightly dizzy and light-headed. You chalked it up to the weather.

“They um-” you began, the words drifting off as your eyes caught the open buttons of his shirt. “They just…”

His expression grew concerned. “Everything okay?”

“Hm? Oh yeah, yeah I just got-” you said, following the curve of his throat as he swallowed whiskey. “Distracted,” you finished with a smile.

The rest of the evening passed by in an easy back-and-forth, a comfortable volley of stories and jibes and debates about food. When you finally admitted that yes, this is the best restaurant, okay? Javier grinned, a bit awkward and boyish in a way that had your heart stuttering on its quickened pulses.

You’d heard things about him, which was probably more than he could say for you. From girls, friends of friends that made a habit of attractive men and low expectations. It wasn’t really your scene but you caught whispers of a man, an American agent with dark hair who was only interested in things he could drink or fuck. You brushed it off then and you thought about it now, watching with curious eyes as he called for the bill.

A quiet part of your head reminded you that you didn’t really know him, that you’d never seen him when he was out in the field or at bars and for all you knew he could be a completely different person. You’d only ever talked like what, three times? Once, calling out across your apartment windows, then on the phone when he asked if you were free Friday night (you could be, why?), and then… here. Now. Sitting in a tiny Colombian restaurant practically eating off of each other’s plates, surrounded by the sound of cooking food and overlapping voices.

Javier hadn’t seemed anything like what they’d told you, though. He was sweet. Gentleman-like, in his own way. A little hollow and a little jaded but you couldn’t really blame him for that - not with everything he’d been through. Maybe only time could tell.

-------

You stood on the stoop of your apartment building, shielded from the summer rain by a leather jacket draped over your shoulders. Walking had seemed a good idea in the beginning but the first drops had come down right before you left, leaving your hair damp and your ankles wet. The glossy asphalt of city streets reflected headlights and distant sirens, streaking and dotted underneath a sky that was quickly becoming dark.

You protested when Javier took the jacket from his arms but he didn’t listen. “Let me play the hero,” he’d said as you held it above your head, enveloped in warmth and the faint scent of smoke. You smiled at this but caught the dip of his chin as you walked, his expression tinged with something empty before he caught your eye and shook his head, swinging an arm around you.

“I had fun,” you said as you reached for your keys. Javier leaned against the doorway, watching as you undid the lock.

“Me too,” he answered, his voice slightly raspy with the cigarette he’d had after dinner. “We should uh- we should do this again. If you want,” he offered. You turned towards him, leading him towards you with a hand held loosely around his shirt collar.

You weren’t normally this bold. Hell, you were never this bold. But something (someone) had filled you with adrenaline and laughter and the best damn tamales you’d ever had in your life until you felt like you could afford to take chances - today and probably every day after that.

“You’re supposed to kiss me now,” you breathed, the heat in your cheeks blooming soft until it flushed your chest and made your breathing shallow.

Javier leaned forward, reaching his arms around the swell of your waist. His nose knocked against yours and you swore you’d never seen anyone look at you the way he did - gentle and reverent and slightly hopeful.

His voice came out hoarse, whispering. “Yes ma’am.”

permanent: @ah-callie @itzagoodthing @spookypym @opheliaelysia @watsonwise @damndamer0n @amarvelousmandalorian @bunnyart-blog @agirllovespasta @pascalispedro @pascalplease @coffeencontemplation @chelsfic @lesqui @javierpenaspinkshirt @symbiont13 @glowingpena @squidlywiddly87 @1zashreena1 @hiscyarika @lostingoogletranslate @keeper0fthestars @bobafvtt @halfwaythereroyal @starwarsiscooliguess @huliabitch @rosetophighlander​

idk if i should start a taglist for this bc idk how long it’s gonna be but five bucks says i have no impulse control and turn it into some 20 part behemoth bc i’m a Clown™

part three

[strangebrews]

@madam-metaphor​ asked: 69. Ventriloquist

So Eddie was still out of a job. Not an ideal state to be in, by any means, though he’d excused the situation on being busy with other, more pertinent things—diverting an alien invasion, for starters.

But it’d been 2 months since anything urgent had come up and here was Eddie during a Wednesday afternoon, on the couch with a microwave dinner in his lap. TV shows had gotten worse nowadays, he was thinking, no respect for plot anymore, just pure drama. 

His bills were piling up—the stack of envelopes was becoming painfully apparent on the island in the kitchen, giant red notices bleeding onto the paper—but it wasn’t like Eddie hadn’t tried. He had tried—at the grocery store, the pet shop, even the fucking video rental place—yet none of the leads had amounted to any promising offer. He was just unlucky, that was all, he thought and took another bite.

You’re very lucky, Eddie. I decided to live in your body. Venom regarded itself quite highly.

He was flipping through channels now, irritated with his lack of options, Venom’s head perched on his shoulder. A streaming subscription, that’s what he needed. Another bill added to the mound, but it was necessary, because, “I mean look at this shit,” he gestured towards the TV with his remote, mouth full, “You cannot expect me to want to watch this kind of crap.” It’d been some ventriloquist—third fucking episode in a row—and Eddie jammed his finger into the skip in frustration. 

Wait.

Venom pressed a tendril to the back button and slithered closer to the screen, head cocked in interest.

How did he get that little human onto his arm?

Eddie gave Vee a crooked smile. He would admit, providing Venom explanations of silly human behaviors was one of his favorite aspects of this cohabitation. “It’s not a tiny human. It’s a puppet—not alive. You stick your arm up the hole in its ass and make it do things.” He laughed, amused at his own explanation. 

Venom’s eyes glimmered. Don’t we do the same thing?

 The laughing stopped. “No, no we do not do the same thing—it’s different. It’s very fucking different. You’re supposed to make jokes, create a show, have people watch you.”

The glimmer intensified. Let’s do that.

“Do what? Become a career ventriloquist?” a slow nod was Eddie’s only answer.  

Venom’s proposal was unsurpring, actually. It had grown increasingly frustrated recently—angry that Eddie could walk the streets now without anyone suspecting anything out of the ordinary, providing no indication they knew Venom was living inside. But the issue was that Venom wanted to be seen—wanted everyone to know that Eddie was taken, that this was Venom’s Eddie. It didn’t want anyone looking at him. Considering him.

Venom had thrown a fit once or twice in public already, accidentally shoved someone out through the glass doors of a bus because they’d brushed up against Eddie a little too often. And that had been an accident—the person was fine aside from a few scratches on the nose—but Venom had been sternly warned that day to never try anything like it again. 

“I’ll rip you out of me, Vee. I promise I will.” Obviously it was an exaggeration, but the image it produced was painful enough for Venom to agree.

So this was its roundabout way of being present in public. They could star in a show together—much like the one on TV—and Venom would have an excuse to stay on the outside, make itself known. It was a perfect idea.

I would make a great puppet, Eddie.

Eddie just laughed and brushed the crumbs off the front of his shirt. He used to be an esteemed journalist. He was not going to become a fucking ventriloquist for the afternoon broadcast. It was stupid. It was ridiculous. It was not an option. It was—

+

They were standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Venom’s head bobbing out from Eddie’s right hand, while another piece wrapped around his arm before cutting off entirely before the elbow. 

A puppet. A gooey, terrifying, alien puppet.

Venom had succeeded in getting Eddie to try the idea out—there was no harm in just trying, it’d argued. And yes, fucking had been a factor in the convincing process, but there was no need to focus on silly details.

They’d been glued to the same spot for nearly an hour now, Eddie trying to mold Venom’s mass into something a bit less menacing. He’d tried giving it pointed ears, a nose, some makeshift hair strands that were supposed to cover a part of Venom’s eyes, but they resembled creepy noodles, if anything else. The attempts were useless, so with a sigh Eddie gave in and moved onto the next issue. “We’ll just be really funny, to distract from the unconventional look.” Unconventional was his way of describing it, because there was no reason to hurt Vee’s feelings. 

Mouth movements proved to be a problem too. “You have to move it based on the shape of the words I’m saying. What you’re doing is not convincing at all.” Venom was just opening and closing its maw haphazardly, disregarding any authenticity. 

I’m meant to be a puppet. They lack the same facial mechanics. 

“Yeah, but—” Eddie cut himself off, because there was a point to be made here, he just wasn’t sure what it was. He set that aside for later. 

The tongue—the tongue had to go.

“It’s just a bit unsettling, is all, when you flick it all the way out like that, you know? Some might find it suggestive, others might think it's insulting.” So Venom curled it back into its maw, with some difficulty, but it’d managed.

Then they encountered an issue with the flow of the conversation. Eddie should have expected Venom to hit a few bumps in the road when it came to witty comebacks, but it really killed the vibe when it kept answering with things like Eddie, do you really think I look like a nasty talking tar ball?

Eddie even tried feeding Venom dialogue through his thoughts, but on the fourth failed attempt he decided they were done. “We tried, we basically failed. I’ve got more important things to do.”

Staring into your empty fridge so you can ignore your real problems isn’t very important. Eddie did not entertain Venom with a response.

+

Yes, he should have been looking for a job still, but Eddie chose to write a script instead. 

They had stopped after that fourth try, but returned to the mirror an hour later. Eddie was going to get it right—he was going to squeeze at least one original, funny thing out of Venom. 

On the seventh try he decided the only way out of this was writing a script.

Recording the video, with his phone resting on the dresser and the script hiding beside it, was also, just a one-off thing. A quick hyperfixation, nothing more.

He worked on their conversation for 2 days, smoothed out all the kinks in their performance during the 10 rounds of practice recordings. Venom could now shape its mouth around the words, kept its tongue inside, and even spoke at a higher pitch to make it more convincing. The pair was ready.

+

Uploading the video to Youtube had also been Eddie’s idea. He had not given up on the project, and neither had he given up on being in denial towards the fact that he was absorbed by said project.

“It’s just—I refuse to have wasted 5 fucking hours on this and keep it private, you know?” It was a weak argument, and he suspected Venom would have raised its eyebrows in doubt if it had any, but it stayed silent. 

He’d done some minimal editing. Nothing too fancy—just an intro and an outro, simple things he’d learned during his journalism days. “It’s not gonna get any views.” he was talking to himself at this point, mouse hovering over the Publish.

“It wasn’t even that funny.” The video had successfully appeared on the recent uploads page—Eddie had checked to make sure, but he didn’t necessarily care. 

“I’ll probably delete it in a day or two, anyway, mind you.” Venom continued to hide away.

+

Venom was only ever quiet for two reasons: it was tired, or it had won a battle with Eddie and had nothing more to say. This case slotted under the latter category.

Because Eddie had not deleted the video after a day or two—it was still floating around on the Internet and Eddie’s finger was beginning to cramp up from refreshing. And refreshing. And refreshing.

The result wasn’t anything major. It was only 100,000 hits in 5 days and the title was pure bait—kinda hard to pass up a video called “Famous Ex-Journalist Stuffs Hand Up Puppet’s Bumhole, Calls It Coping” (That’s a misleading title, Venom had noted. “I know, just trust me.”)

“It’s not even that funny of a video.” Eddie said again on the 6th day, but there was a smile tugging at his lips—nearing 200,000 now. 

Cooksucker3000 said your puppet is fucking dope, Eddie. Venom hummed along Eddie’s arms in satisfaction. The comments were its favorite part, for quite obvious reasons, and Eddie was too preoccupied with his own shower of compliments to correct Venom’s reading mistakes.

this is so hilarious!! 

i love the idea! 

good to see ur doing well - i remember u from tv! 

u r really fucking hot xx

Delete that. It has nothing to do with the contents of the video. So not all of the comments were Venom’s favorite.

+

When they hit 300,000 Eddie said, “Fine—I’ll write one more script. But after that, we’re done.” Venom did not put up a fight this time either.

Because fine, Eddie could say whatever he wanted, but they shared a fucking body at the end of the day—as if Venom wouldn’t have noticed him finishing up the 4th script of a series last night.

[bitchiha]

A/N: I accidentally posted the request before I finished LOL. So I don’t know much about Tsundere relationships, but I did some reading on it just before I started writing and I hope I did the request some justice! Also I’m literally Kankuros bitch <3

Ps, I’m sorry I didn’t put a keep reading thingy idk how to do it on mobile and my trash laptop is broken 😭😭

Also I didnt include tobirama bc I absolutely hated how his turned out and I had to delete it im sorry 😖

✎ Tsundere relationship! (Hidan, Kank, Naruto)

Kankurō

Ahh, where to start? I think you’ll meet on a mission co partnered with the Leaf...

You and Shikamaru are sent to assist the Sand on a mission. Now, we already know Kankurō is a bit of a sassy mf when it comes to the Leaf like I think he whole heartedly believes the Sand is superior and you also have those feelings about your own village... So there’s an instant dislike for one another. Kinda like an instant rivalry.

Literally the first thing you say to him is “So, the Sand can’t take care of their own missions?” And that sets Kankurō off, “What, how dare you- ack! Temari, that hurt! I’m not gonna let her walk all over us like that, I’ll fight you right now you Leaf Village bi- ow! Temari!” Shikamaru has to hold you back LMFAOO you’re ready to throw hands “Huh, what’s that? Sounds like you’re really determined for me to kick your ass?” He lowkey liked when you said that to him lol.

Anyways, the two of you are bickering the whole entire way to the missions destination. You’ll tease eachother about anything and everything you can. So, once you find out about his puppet master jutsu its only natural that you fall on the floor with laughter. Like full on tears and strangled breathing. Now this is something you can really tease him about.

“What! You still play with dolls? I bet you have little sleep over parties with them and do their hair-“

You’re cut off because he tries to trap you in the Ant. Temari has to strangle him and force him to let you out. You’re lucky he didn’t iron maiden your ass LMFAOO.

This is the kind of the energy you guys carry whenever you see eachother from now on. He’ll see you more often too because you carry out a lot of Leaf and Sand allied missions and duties. Rip to anyone who gets put on a mission with you two tbh.

But on one particularly hard mission it ends up down to the two of you fighting off like 10 enemies. He’s trying to focus on fighting them, but he can’t stop thinking about if you’re okay. His distractedness earns him a particularly hard blow.

You end up having to fight off the remaining enemies yourself, all the while protecting him. The last thing he remembers is you screaming his name when he gets hit and the fear that was in your eyes at seeming him like that. It slowly turns to anger and then you kick the bad guys asses. He’s like half conscious but is laying there like: whatta bad bitch. Then he passes out.

Starts to really admire you after that and his comments aren’t as snarky when he sees you next. It’s more like little jabs and teases because that’s how he shows his affection, but they were no longer the hardcore roasts he’d dish out before. You probably stop flaming his ass too because let’s be real here; you’ve both obviously been attracted to each other from the start you just didn’t want to admit it.

Like cmon, he didn’t wait for you at the gates every single time he knew you were visiting just to insult you first. No. He came there to see your cute ass first!!Same goes for you, like you didn’t take all the missions to the Sand for nothing. You came there to see your fav hot headed puppet master.

He’ll ask you out a few months later, when you end up at the Sand again. Probably takes you to dinner before going back to his place. I 100% see him showing you his puppets and this time you’ll actually show your interest and not just tease him lol. Probably ends up making out with you on his workbench. Ok that’s all.

Naruto

You meet eachother for the first time at Ichirakus. Second to Naruto, you actually bring in the most cash for the place. So it’s surprising you two had never met each other before.

Until now of course. He’s just gotten back from a long mission and he’s dying for some ramen. He strolls right in and orders a miso pork ramen, but the old man tells him there’s no more pork left.

Probably flips his shit like who tf ate it all?? Then the old man points at you. You’re sitting there chowing down you’re literal 15th bowl, the giant stack of empty bowls next to you proving it. You watch the blondie charge right at you while you eat the last miso pork bowl of ramen for the day.

You put the bowl down and wipe your face just as he stops right infront of you, very close to your face. You can see the anger in his eyes, but you are not giving up. Also, the guy looks sorta comical so you basically laugh in his face which gets him more worked up.

“What are you laughing about? You just ate all of old mans pork for the day!! That last bowl is mine, believe it!” Once again you laugh in his face because you just can’t help yourself. Probably end up fist fighting eachother on the spot. Neither of you win because one of you ends up smashing into the bowl, sending it flying right at the old man. He kicks you both out, right after you pay your tab of course.

This arises a competition of who will eat all the miso pork ramen first, it goes on for a good few months. Ichirakus is swimming in your money now. Until one day, when you two arrive at Ichirakus at the same time. You basically have a show down. Unfortunately both your wallets are cleaned out and you can’t even pay off your bills anymore so you’re now indebted to the ramen place.

Narutos mission money won’t even cut it anymore and you can’t pay your debt off either. So you both have to get a job doing Ichirakus dishes until you can pay your debt off.

At first you two wanna strangle each other everytime youre in each others line of sight. But slowly — veryyyy slowly, you start to bond over your love for ramen. Like you can probably sniff the bowls before you clean them and tell instantly what ramen was eaten out of it.

You discover you both have the same favourite instant ramen, the same favourite Ichirakus order, etc... Then before you know it you actually start dating. Nobody knows how it happened because you were rivals for a good couple of months, but now all the sudden your holding hands while and eating ramen together peacefully. Mind blown.

Hidan

You’re a brand new Akatsuki member and you’re cute. Really cute. Not only was Deidara drooling over you too, Kakuzu just asked to file your taxes. Do you even do taxes? You’re a rouge ninja. Anyways, Hidan is so sure that Jashin would love to have you.

You two start taking to eachother and actually getting along pretty well, until he mentions Jashin. You shut him down so quickly after that. Like you’re not interested in his fake God, no matter how cute he is.

From then on he tries to ignore you or is just super petty towards you all the time. Like you just got back from a failed mission with your Akatsuki partner and he’s at the hideout mocking you like “if you prayed to Jashin with me this wouldn’t have happened.”

Literally so fucking petty.

Anytime you suggest an idea to the Akatsuki he immediately tears it down. It doesn’t really matter when he does though because nobody really listens to Hidan anyways, it’s just annoying.

You two get put on a mission together one day because Kakuzu has some important money buisness to take care of. Hidans so pissy about it, “oh come on! Out of everybody you picked y/n? She doesn’t even respect my religion, how are we supposed to work together!?” Kakuzu just looks at him and is like “Hidan, I don’t care about Jashin either.”

Butthurt the whole journey. If you guys get bombarded or run into trouble he probably doesn’t even bother backing you up. If anything he tries to feed you to them LMFAOOO. Such a jerk.

Then, once he thinks that all the bad guys are gone he turns to you all confidently because you got your ass whooped and he’s like “see, I bet if you prayed to Jashin you wouldn’t be injured this bad-“

An enemy just stabbed him right through the chest and he watches the look of shock on your face. That’s when he gets an idea. He falls on the floor super fucking dramatically and you have to take the last guy down for him.

Then you kneel next to him and cradle his body because yes he was such a petty bitch but he actually started to grow on you. So you cry and in this distressed moment you probably even attempted to pray to Jashin because you’re desperate as fuck.

This bitch really makes his eyes flutter open and is like; “y/n?” Really fucking plays off that he was unconscious, “Jashin... Jashin saved me.”

Your ass just got clowned but I mean you believe it because like he just got stabbed right through the heart. Even immortal people should die if they were stabbed in the heart, right? It seemed like it was the case.

So yah he basically just emotionally manipulated you into being semi interested in his religion.

Then he stops being petty with you and probably asks you to sleep with him as an offering to Jashin. “It’s only fitting! He just saved my life afterall.”

Literal definition of a sleeze bag <3