#for longer series that gets bumped up to having less than an hour total

[dirtyhelen]

with you, a girl could get bolder (i just wanna be a little bit closer) - part one

PART ONE: can you feel it? (Series Masterlist) Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Rating: Explicit (18+) Featuring: Smut; Angst; Sex Pollen/Aphrodisiacs; Dubious Consent; Loss of Virginity; First Time; Vaginal Sex; Cunnilingus; Creampie; Dirty Talk Words: 5484 Summary: For a single moment there is absolute silence as you and Bucky stare down at the broken glass and the silvery mist rising from it with shocking speed and volume. “Oh, fuck.” You and Bucky get hit with an extremely powerful aphrodisiac, resulting in some mind-blowing (but dubiously consensual) sex on a quinjet. And if sleeping with a coworker in a drug-fueled haze wasn’t bad enough, you’ve also had an unrequited crush on him for months. A/N: My first multi-chapter fic! My first attempt at something resembling a plot! There will be 3 parts, about 15k total. Titles are from Want You In My Room by Carly Rae Jepsen. Part 2 will be out next week!

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“Thanks, Steve,” you say as he sets your bag in one of the quinjet’s storage compartments. Ever the gentleman, he’d insisted on carrying your luggage for you, since he was headed the same way anyway. Just a few minutes ago the jet was bustling with technicians packing away carefully labelled silver briefcases, but now it’s just you, Steve, Bucky, and Bruce. Bucky is headed to Wakanda, summoned by Shuri with the promise of impressive new upgrades for his arm. The briefcases are samples of chemical solutions the Avengers recently confiscated from an enemy base. They’re also headed to Wakanda, to be examined in one of the country’s laboratories even Tony - begrudgingly – has to admit are more advanced than his own. Along the way, Bucky will be dropping you in Zurich to meet up with Pepper. She’s attending a fancy business retreat there and snagged you an invite under the guise of professional development and maintaining the relationship between Stark Industries and the Avengers. As though being married to Iron Man isn’t enough to cement that relationship. Really, she just hates being outnumbered by arrogant, misogynistic billionaires and wants the company. You’re certainly not complaining. A chance to eat ridiculously expensive food and shit talk gross old men in view of the Swiss Alps? Beats running around after the team, keeping track of a thousand conflicting schedules and chasing down late mission reports. You spend another minute or two idly chatting with Steve and Bruce as Bucky makes himself busy at the instrument panel. The jet can basically fly itself, but you suspect Bucky gets a bit of a thrill any time he gets to be in the cockpit, tech nerd that he is. “You sure you have everything?” Steve asks you with a teasing smirk. “It’s a whole two days, you know. Pretty sure that requires at least a dozen books.” “Oh, har-har,” you grumble. “God, you overpack one time and it turns into a whole thing!” “Didn’t you take like four pairs of shoes and two books for a day trip?” Bruce calls as he walks down the ramp, heading back to the lab, you’re sure. “It was three pairs and you can’t always rely on weather forecasts!” you shout after him. Steve jokingly rolls his eyes. “Of course. And the books?” “Two is a perfectly reasonable number of books to bring on a day trip,” you protest primly. “And if I recall correctly, you ended up borrowing one of those books on the way home, so you’re welcome.” “Fair enough,” Steve laughs, holding out his hands in mock concession and turning to say his goodbyes to Bucky, currently bent over the panel, confidently pressing buttons and flicking toggles. It gives you some comfort. You’re a bit of a nervous flier, but Bucky seems to know what he’s doing and the Avengers’ personal jet has to be a lot safer than any commercial plane you’ve ever been on anyway. Though it’s more than just the thought of crashing into the Atlantic ocean that has you on edge. Three hours. That’s approximately how long you’ll be confined with Bucky in a high-tech tin can. Three hours to sit in awkward silence, or worse, awkward conversation if your previous interactions are anything to go by. Chances are you’ll try to make small talk but somehow end up saying something stupid while Bucky just sort of looks at you like he’s wondering how you managed to get this job in the first place. It’s a reasonable question, to be fair, and one you’ve asked yourself at least once every day since you started. Not that you’re a notably skilled conversationalist in general, but around Bucky, you can barely manage to string two coherent sentences together. You can’t help it! You just like him so fucking much and you want him to like you even just a little, so you try to be cool and relaxed and chill. Like Natasha or Sam, the two people who, apart from Steve, he seems to actually be comfortable around. Unfortunately, you are neither cool nor relaxed and you definitely are not chill. No, you are a grab-bag of somewhat less attractive personality traits like excitable and dorky and perpetually-fucking-nervous, all wrapped up in sensible shoes and practical, un-sexy clothing. Basically the anti-Nat, or any person you can imagine Bucky being attracted to. So when you try to converse with him like a normal person you usually end up rambling on like an alien who watched one episode of Gilmore Girls and thought that was how humans really communicated with each other. Not exactly a turn on. Sadly, knowing you have absolutely no chance with him does nothing to stop your feelings. If anything it only makes them stronger somehow. No harm in letting yourself become totally obsessed with the guy since it’s not like you’ll ever tell him how you feel, therefore there’s no chance of rejection! Foolproof! Really though, you don’t know how you could have avoided falling for him anyway, even if you had tried. As a member of the team’s admin staff, you see them basically every day. Relaxing, training, doing press and charity events – everything but actually going on missions. After months of chatting during meetings, discussing schedules and events, and working in the same place they live, you’ve gotten to know them pretty well, you think. And despite Bucky’s taciturn demeanor, the White Wolf seems more like a puppy to you. Sure, his resting expression has a tendency to read as slightly murderous and he's undoubtedly deadly in the field, but there's another side to him too. Bucky is enthralled with all things technological. Whenever there’s a presentation on new tools for the team Bucky is there, bright-eyed and attentive, with thoughtful, clever questions on how it all works, and he’s not shy about making suggestions either. He shamelessly enjoys all things soft and cozy – fuzzy blankets, knit sweaters, his cat. Alpine was a stray Bucky found wandering the grounds of the compound. Now she wanders the residential wing instead, usually wherever Bucky is. He could be bitter and angry and cruel after everything he’s been through – and God knows he’d have every right – but he’s not. He has his bad days, of course. Days at a time where you hardly see him except for mandatory meetings or training, and then with dark shadows under his eyes and a heavy blankness that seems etched into his face. But most of the time it’s clear he wants to be part of the world. With his never-ending curiosity about all the things he missed, or never had the freedom to enjoy. With his dark, wry humor and the fond way he can’t help but look at Steve whenever he says something that must remind him of before the war. With the way he tries so goddamn hard to put some good back into the world, to make up for things that weren’t even his fault. You truly don’t understand how anyone could know him and not love him. You certainly never stood a chance. “See you, pal. Text me when you land.” Steve’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you realize you’ve been staring into nothing for longer than you realized. “Say hi to Pepper for me!” he calls to you as he leaves. And with that, it’s just you and Bucky. For the next three hours. +++ The awkward silence – apart from a quiet, “You ready?” from Bucky just before take-off – lasts all of ten minutes. That’s as long as you can go before the pressure to say something becomes irresistible. Being bad at talking to Bucky has never kept you from trying, unfortunately. “You excited to go back to Wakanda?” you ask. Bucky nods. “Yeah. It’ll be nice to see Shuri again.” He says it with a soft smile and you know he means it. He clearly has a deep affection and respect for her. “I bet. She seems ridiculously cool. Honestly, I wanna be her when I grow up,” you joke, then immediately cringe. I wanna be her when I grow up? Come on! Bucky laughs politely and the jet is once again silent. Bucky seems content to just sit with his thoughts, but the jet’s at cruising altitude now so you take the opportunity to get out of your seat and grab one of the only two books from your bag. Can’t say anything stupid if you’re too busy reading! Check and mate, Rogers. You’re elbow deep in toiletries and underwear, having decided blindly digging around would be preferable to actually taking the bag down and fully unzipping it, when you decide to try speaking again.   “So do you know what upgrades you’re getting? You know, for –” you gesture at your left arm, or try to, except you use the arm currently being eaten by your suitcase at the exact moment the jet hits a patch of turbulence, jostling you and your luggage. Bucky jumps up, darting over to steady you with a hand on your back. As a part of your mind becomes consumed with thoughts of, holy shit he’s touching me, you manage to wrench your arm out of your suitcase, sending it to knock against the silver briefcase next to it. The impact shifts the briefcase slightly. The next bump of the jet a moment later has it falling out of the storage unit entirely. The silver briefcases used by the Avengers to transport dangerous or delicate materials are very cleverly designed so that – properly clasped – they could be used as a football for an NFL game with no ill-effects. Which is how you know this case has very clearly not been properly clasped because as it falls it springs open, and a small vial of clear liquid hits the floor. And shatters. For a single moment there is absolute silence as you and Bucky stare down at the broken glass and the thin, silvery mist rising from it with shocking speed and volume, filling the space around your bodies. “Oh, fuck,” you breathe. Bucky snaps into action, grabbing you by the arm and tugging you toward the sleeping compartments in the back of the jet, calling for FRIDAY along the way. “Get us back to the compound now,” he orders. “And get Stark or Banner on the line.” He shoves you inside the nearest cabin, following and sliding the door shut behind him. Immediately he’s gripping you by the shoulders and turning you to face him. “Did any of it get on you? On your clothes?” he asks urgently, eyes scanning your body. “No! I mean, not the liquid, I don’t think. But what about that mist or vapour or whatever? What if we breathed it in?” You have no idea what was in that vial. “Oh God, we’re gonna die,” you moan, anxiously pacing the tiny room. “Or I am, anyway. You’ll probably be fine. Fuck. Oh my God. What if it’s like, some flesh-eating poison? Am I gonna turn into the Hulk?” Your heart races and you feel hot. You can’t tell if it’s just fear or something worse but whatever it is must show on your face because Bucky gently guides you to sit on the narrow bed as the call finally connects. “Hey, Bucky, what’s up?” It’s Bruce, thank God. You’re not sure you could handle even the briefest and most well-meaning witticism from Tony right now. Bucky very quickly briefs Bruce on the situation, finishing with, “Any idea what the fuck was in that case?” You can hear the anxiety in Bruce’s voice. “Shit, I don’t know. Not unless you have the label. And we didn’t really examine them, just packed them up.” “Fucking great!” you can’t help but interject, throwing your hands in the air and receiving a concerned look from Bucky in return “But listen, guys. You’re on your way back to the compound – FRIDAY says 30 minutes tops. I’ll have medical and biochem ready as soon as you touch down. And it’s already been what? Like five minutes? If nothing’s happened yet, you’re probably fine? Just sit tight and don’t leave the cabin. The doors seal airtight so nothing can get through.” And with that, Bruce hangs up to get everything ready for your return, leaving you and Bucky at opposite ends of an very small space. You’ve never been claustrophobic before but you must be developing the fear because the walls feel like they’re closing in and your heart feels like it’s about to beat its way out of your chest. “Okay, wow. Great. ‘Sit tight.’ That’s awesome, just awesome.” You look around the room, empty except for the bunk you’re sitting on. “What are we supposed to do now? Play twenty fucking questions?” Your relaxing weekend abroad has disappeared and apparently taken your brain-to-mouth filter with it. Between that, your racing heart, and the increasing heat spreading through your body you’re not entirely sure that you’re probably fine, but you’re chalking it up to anxiety because it’s not like there’s anything you can do about it anyway. Except sit tight. Looking up at Bucky you can see his cheeks have taken on a pink flush, but again, that’s probably just stress. Or maybe annoyance at having to be trapped in a tiny room with you and your panicked blathering for the next half hour. Sighing, he sinks to the floor, resting his back against the door and stretching out his legs in front of him. “Nothin’ to do but wait, doll.” Your eyes flash to his. Doll. He’s never called you that before. He’s never really called you anything before. Bucky seems to have noticed it too because he furrows his brows, looking like he’s just as surprised as you are. There’s a brief moment of eye contact before you both quickly look away, choosing not to address it. Probably just a habit, you think. A remnant of the Bucky that existed long before you were born, jumping out in a moment of stress. A heavy silence falls, leaving you both to your own thoughts. You try to focus on breathing, on staying calm, but your mind keeps straying and it feels like there’s too much energy in your body. Your skin practically itches with it and you squirm, unable to get comfortable but not sure exactly why. You can hear Bucky tapping his foot on the floor, the sound of him shifting around. You wonder if he feels it too. Bucky… Doll. The way it had fallen out of his mouth so casually, so easily. As though he’d said it to you a hundred times. You feel a spark bubble up inside you picturing Bucky’s flushed cheeks and that word. You imagine him saying it breathlessly, reverently, just before his lips touch yours. Or growling it out as he moves inside you… Fuck, doll, just like that. You nearly let out a whimper and you feel a rush of slick in your panties, shocking you out of your fantasy as you become uncomfortably aware of just how wet you are. That spreading heat flares even more than before and you realize you must have been dripping into your underwear for longer than just the last few seconds. There’s a deep throb of arousal in your core, stronger than anything you’ve felt before, like that unbearable energy under your skin has been pulled to settle deep inside you. It’s confusing – far too powerful to be the result of a vague, half-imagined fantasy. But even as you wonder at what’s happening, it’s like a fog settles over you, the confusion half-hearted, nothing compared to the growing urge to touch, to quell the burning fire inside you. Before you can even consciously register the movement, your hand is making its way to your pussy. Any shock or embarrassment at your wildly inappropriate behaviour is slow to appear and dulled when it does. Snatching your hand back just as it nears the apex of your thighs is like walking through deep water, like you have to convince yourself why you shouldn’t get off in front of a co-worker. Your eyes flash to Bucky, wondering if he’s seen, if he’s affected the same way you are, only to find his gaze already fixed on you, blue eyes blown nearly black. His fists are clenched at his sides and his lips are bitten red and spit-slick. He breathes in deep, nostrils flaring, and you realize he can smell you. It should be humiliating. You should be turning away in humiliation, but instead, you feel yourself get – somehow, impossibly – wetter and this time you can’t contain the helpless whimper when Bucky groans and licks his lips in response. It’s as if with that sound the floodgates have opened because in an instant you’re slipping off the bed and throwing yourself at him, desperate to be closer, as close as physically possible. You scramble on top of him, graceless and frantic, straddling his thighs and wrapping your arms around his neck. Bucky’s hands grip your ass, pulling you closer and grinding you down on his cock, pressing hard and hot against you even through your clothes. There’s a moment – a tiny fraction of a second – where you catch each other’s eyes. A pause, where you think you see something, some emotion on Bucky's face, but you don't have time to decipher it before he’s surging up to press his lips against yours and a bomb is set off inside you. You have no idea what you’re doing – your experiences up to now have been limited to a handful of lackluster kisses with people not worth remembering – but Bucky doesn’t seem to notice or mind. He holds your face firmly in his hands, turning your head to suit him as he licks into your mouth and you do your best to mimic his actions, clumsy in your mindless passion. He takes your bottom lip between his teeth and you gasp, rocking your hips against his, trying to get some friction on your throbbing clit. He thrusts up against you and you move together but it’s not enough. It’s clear whatever was in that vial has created a thirst in you that won’t be quenched by a heated make-out session and you pull away from Bucky's mouth, moaning as he tilts your head back to kiss your neck, licking and sucking at the tender skin. “More,” you gasp. “I need more.” You feel him nod against your throat and with one last, deep kiss to your lips Bucky grips you by the hips and lifts you off him, shifting to rest his weight on his heels before reaching to push your dress up over your waist. Almost all of your higher brain function is devoted to being as close to Bucky as possible but far in the back of your mind, there’s a small part of you that’s simply shocked at what’s happening, at the sensations coursing through your body. You have never felt this uninhibited in your entire life. You were a shy, anxious child who grew into a somewhat less shy, anxious adult, easily embarrassed and prone to overthinking. But now, with that silvery mist working its way through your system, you’ve never felt so shameless. Bucky is feverishly slipping off your shoes and tugging down your tights and you’re not thinking about how you haven’t shaved your legs in weeks or how you’re wearing an old pair of plain cotton panties or any of the dozens of worries that would be running through your head under normal circumstances. (Not that Bucky would be undressing you at all, under normal circumstances.) No. Instead of overthinking and paralyzing yourself with fear, you’re pulling your dress over your head and reaching back to unclasp your bra so you can get your own hands on your breasts. You could almost just sit and bask in this unfamiliar feeling of freedom if it weren’t for the hot ache in your core that threatens to burn you alive with every moment you go untouched. As soon as your tights have been pulled off and tossed aside, Bucky is shouldering your legs apart and leaning forward to press his nose against the wet patch on your panties, breathing deep. “Fuck, doll. I need to taste you.” You whimper as his tongue darts out to lick a wide stripe up the length of your covered cunt. His hands move to your hips and in an instant, your panties are torn from your body and his mouth is on your bare skin for the first time. You can’t help but gasp as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your folds. His tongue licks up your opening and circles your clit before moving back down and slipping inside you, drinking up your slick. Bucky growls against your pussy. “So fucking good.” His tongue moves back to your clit and he laps at it in short, teasing flicks. You begin to buck helplessly and Bucky’s metal arm brackets your hips, holding you still for his mouth. He switches to deep, firm circles over your clit, alternating with wide laps over the whole of your cunt. You’re losing your mind, flat on your back with your legs thrown over Bucky’s shoulders, heels pressing into his back. You’ve never felt anything like this. You haven’t even come yet but it’s already more intense than any orgasm you’ve ever given yourself. You feel two fingers against your opening and you fight Bucky’s grip over your hipbones, trying to grind yourself down onto him. He chuckles at your efforts and presses just the tips of his fingers inside you. “So needy, huh? Just wanna be filled up, don’t you?” You have no idea how he’s able to tease right now when you're ready to fall to your knees and plead just for the chance at an orgasm. You whine, trying again to slide down onto his fingers but his metal arm keeps you from moving a single inch and you toss your head back with a wail. “Please, Bucky,” you sob. “I need it, I need you. Please.” You feel no embarrassment at your begging. The fire inside you is growing hotter and hotter. You need him. You need to be filled, fucked. You feel like you’ll die if he doesn’t fuck you now. The teasing tone drops out of Bucky’s voice and he presses messy kisses to your inner thighs. “I know, I know. I feel it too. Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m gonna fill you up so good. Stuff you full. Gonna make you feel so good, make it better.” His fingers finally slip into you, sliding easily through your wetness. He starts thrusting and his tongue circles your clit again as his fingers curl. He focuses on your g-spot, stroking roughly as he pulls your clit into his mouth and sucks. You’re coming in seconds with a series of breathy moans, thighs clamped tightly around Bucky’s head. He doesn’t let up, only pulling away when you tug at his hair, the sensations too much. He kisses you, sliding his tongue against yours and you can taste yourself in his mouth. It reignites the fire your orgasm had dulled slightly and you pull away, about to plead for more, but it seems Bucky has finally reached his limit. His hands work at his belt and he shoves his jeans and briefs down just enough to free his cock. You’ve never really seen one in person before and maybe under different circumstances you’d take a moment to get familiar, but right now all you can do is spread your legs and beg. Bucky quickly positions himself above you, lining his cock up with your entrance. He drags the head along your pussy a couple times, groaning as he slicks himself up and begins to push into you. He’s bigger than anything you’ve ever had inside you hardly notice the sting. It’s nothing compared to the raging chorus inside you chanting more, more, more. In one single, hurried thrust he’s fully inside, your bodies pressed flush together. Bucky moans. “So fucking tight, fuck. You feel so goddamn good, doll,” he pants above you, leaning down for a filthy kiss, wet and open. “Fucking move, please,” you beg, hooking your legs around him and digging in your heels. Bucky growls into your mouth and pulls out almost entirely before thrusting back inside hard, pulling a sound from deep in your throat. He repeats the move a handful of times before settling into a harsh, pounding rhythm with his face buried in your neck. You cling to his back, senseless, unable to focus on anything but how good you feel. Your brain feels fuzzy and empty and every thrust drags his cock along your g-spot and it’s too much, too good. You’re a gasping, panting mess. It’s not long before his hips start to stutter, his rhythm breaking as he moans out above you. Your hand slides down your body to your clit and you rub firm circles around it. A few swipes and you’re coming, harder than you ever have in your life, with a high, keening moan. The tight squeezes of your cunt have Bucky coming too and you feel a warmth release inside you as he collapses against your chest. Neither of you moves for a long moment, your heavy, mingled breaths the only sound in the room. There’s still some lingering fog as you soak in the afterglow of your drug-intensified orgasm, but it seems like the chemical has run its course and clarity is quickly returning to you. The silence is broken by FRIDAY announcing your approach to one of the landing pads, and you feel the jet begin its descent a moment later. Her voice hits you like a slap in the face, a stark reminder of what’s really happening here, what you’ve just done. It seems Bucky feels the same, because he leans back just enough to look you in the eyes and a long moment of horrified recognition passes between you. Your breathing picks up again as panic surges through you. You start to squirm under his weight but he’s already moving. You wince as he pulls out of you, suddenly aware of a deep soreness between your legs. In seconds, Bucky has tucked himself back into his jeans, and he storms out of the cabin without a backward glance. So eager to get away from you he doesn’t seem to care that he might be walking directly into a toxic cloud. Like anything would be better than being trapped with you for another moment. You lay there on the floor, naked and shivering, with Bucky’s cum starting to leak out of you as you struggle to take a breath, all the anxiety and uncertainty the drug had masked flooding back to you at once. You force yourself to sit up and pull your clothes back on, cringing as you feel the mess between your legs seep into your tights. You hastily stuff your ruined panties in your pocket. You take a few deep breaths and try to still your shaking hands as you hear footsteps approaching the cabin. You’re given a respirator and guided off the jet into a throng of people awaiting your arrival, Bucky nowhere to be seen. White-coated staff swarm you and lead you inside. +++ You wish you could say the next several hours are a blur, but they are, unfortunately, exceptionally, horrifically clear. You’re taken through a decontamination shower, though you’re really not sure how much good it could do at this point, then poked and prodded with needles and swabs while having the most mortifying conversation of your life. You feel nearly choked with a shocking, burning shame. This morning you woke up nervous and excited for a weekend away, and now you’re telling a handful of strangers how you just had sex for the first time in an uncontrollable, frenzied state of lust with one of the Avengers. And as though it couldn’t be worse, it’s made all the more humiliating by the lingering throb of arousal thrumming through you the entire time. It seems whatever this drug is, the two orgasms you’ve already had weren’t enough to neutralize it, though at least you have enough self-control now to keep from shoving your hand down your pants in front of everyone in the room. Finally, after what seems like hours and unfortunately really is hours, you’re told to go home and rest. You’ve been given an emergency contraceptive, a pamphlet for the Employee Assistance Program, a number to call if you feel any strange symptoms, and told that someone will follow up with you in the next day or so. You feel numb as you enter your apartment, tugging off your med-bay issued scrubs on the way to the bathroom. You get yourself off in the shower, and though it’s the most joyless orgasm of your life, it seems to finally clear any lingering arousal from your system. Wincing at the tenderness between your legs, you scrub yourself clean under the hot spray, half wishing you could dissolve into a puddle and wash away down the drain with the soapy water. You’re getting ready for bed when your thoughts take a sudden turn to Bucky for the first time in hours. You’d been so overwhelmed by all the tests and questions, so cocooned in your own embarrassment you’d practically forgotten about him. Guilt rushes through you at your own selfish thoughtlessness. Feeling so sorry for yourself like you were the only victim. Like you were the victim at all. You’ve had a crush on Bucky for months, have spent more time than you’d like to admit imagining being with him in ways both innocent and obscene. But he’s never looked twice at you, barely speaks to you except for unavoidable work discussions. Not that you expect anything different. Someone like him would never want to be with you anywhere outside your daydreams. Except now he has been with you. Forced against his will to take part in some horrific act, because surely that’s how Bucky must see it, now the fog of uncontrollable lust has cleared. You had sex for the first time in decidedly unwanted conditions, but at least it was with someone you’re genuinely attracted to, someone you have feelings for. Bucky had been forced to have sex with someone he didn’t even like, much less desire. After everything he’s been through, how hard he’s worked to find a place where he can feel safe and in control of his own life – his own body. Only to have that control taken from him again in the most indecent way. Shame, viscous and thick, swells in your throat like sickness and your eyes fill with tears. No wonder Bucky ran out of the cabin the way he had. You feel so much worse because of your feelings for him. Dirty and wrong because you would have enjoyed the sex even without the drug. You know, deep down, it’s not your fault. You didn’t mean to knock the case over and you had no idea what was inside – not to mention you weren’t the one who forgot to latch it – but you can’t help but feel responsible for what happened and you wonder if Bucky feels the same. If he knows about your feelings and thinks you orchestrated the entire thing on purpose. You wouldn’t blame him if he did. And the rest of the team! If they don’t know already, they will soon enough. What if they blame you too? What if they’re disgusted by you? Anxiety spreads through your body from your pounding heart, filling your limbs. You can’t breathe, you can’t think. You feel boiling hot and ice cold all at once. Collapsing to your bedroom floor, you bring your hands to your thighs, digging your fingernails into the skin. The sharp pain distracts you from the heavy panic flooding your body enough to let you focus on breathing in, then out, repeating the words in your head until you feel your heart rate settle, the panic easing a little. You pull yourself up off the floor and push yourself through the motions of getting ready for bed. The intrusive thoughts are still there (everyone hates you. You’re going to lose your job. Are you sure you didn’t do it on purpose?) but you try to ignore them. There’s nothing you can do about anything right now and thinking yourself into a panic attack won’t do any good. You turn on an old episode of your favourite show and get in bed, tugging the covers up to your neck and focusing on the screen, allowing the familiar storylines to dull the intensity of your thoughts until you finally fall asleep. A/N: And that’s the end of Part 1! Thanks for reading and feel free to like, comment, and/or reblog and let me know what you thought! I spent a truly ridiculous amount of time trying to figure out the whole sex pollen aspect and I’m still not totally happy with it hahah but I hope it doesn’t seem too shoe-horned in 😝 Anything else that you’d like to see tagged/warned for, let me know!!

[manifestoonmoralmanlove]

What will be in my bag? Pre-ordered Manga. Straight and Lez edition.

Here’s a list of English-released manga I’ve currently got on pre-order, and manga series I ordered before but won’t be continuing with the series.

As a note: Some of these titles have been released but I have not received them yet due to a issues with covid backlog effected how things are released.  I personally find that if you pre-order it tends to get you manga quicker.  It seems there is more pressure to keep up with the new release schedule than chip away at the backlog.

I’m starting with the stuff I’ve already read some of and confirmed enjoyment, then stuff I’m shooting in the dark for, and finally series I have tried recently and have discontinued.

Heteros

My Androgynous Boyfriend

Story & Art by: Tamekou      Publisher: Seven Seas

It is rare for straight shit to end up in my library but My Androgynous boyfriend is an exception that will surprise no-one since it’s pretty queer adjacent.  This story is mostly a couple being lovey-dovey between jokes about sexuality and gender but (so far) isn’t problematic at all.  The female lead is quite enjoyable as she’s well-balanced and has agency throughout. There’s even ace representation! It’s very low-stakes, wholesome, and sweet so far. (Volume 3 is set to release in November.)

My Excitement Level: The gentle about to sink into a bubble bath variety

Yuri/Lesbian

Even Though We’re Adults

Story & Art by: Takako Shimura  Publisher: Seven Seas

Takako is also the creator of Sweet Blue Flowers and Wandering son.  I have dipped by toe in to both those series.  I overall find their writing kinda meandering and tepid (might just be me) but technically pretty solid.  I am hopeful for this series since it features adults....if the title didn’t make it obvious.  I was intrigued by the one character being married but the man finding out about the affair quickly and reacting more realistically and interestingly than the average male love interest in a Yuri.  I also found myself relating at bit to Akari’s angst about being unlucky with relationships with women.  I also do enjoy the artwork! This one is the most likely of my followed series to be dropped at some point. (Volume 2 of this manga was set to release in June this year.)

My Excitement Level: Cautious Optimism

For more click the jump!

Kase-san and Yamada

Story & Art by: Hiromi Takashima  Publisher: Seven Seas

This is a series I keep going back to.  While it is the very typical low-stakes bubbly, cutesy School age Yuri...it is a very good version of that.  Just warm bubble bath vibes. (Volume 7 is set to release in February of next year.  I think it was originally supposed to be released this May but was bumped back.)

My Excitement Level: The gentle about to sink into a bubble bath variety

NOW ONTO THE SERIES I HAVEN’T READ BUT I’M TAKING A CHANCE ON!

Adachi and Shimaura

Art: Moke Yuzuhara Story: Hitoma Iruma  Publisher: Yen Press

This, as I understand it, is a slow-burn romance about two delinquent girls.  I have heard good things about the novel and the anime series!  However I prefer manga to novels and don’t have a funimation account so I went to snag it in manga form. (Volume 1 was set to release in February this year and 2 in September)

My Excitement Level: Cautious Optimism

The Girl I want is so handsome!

Story & Art by:Yuama     Publisher: Seven Seas

The premise is a young lady has a crush on a handsome older girl who’s oblivious to her advances.  When she tries to confess she instead gets roped into being the club manager of the basketball team that her crush is a part of.  So it feels like it may end up cycling through 2 jokes and be so deep in the stereotypical manga bullshit you can easily-predict its beats volumes in advance. HOWEVER that is also a premise that is similar to Monthly Girls' Nozaki-kun which is legitimately a hilarious series. Also I fucking love butch/stud/masc-presenting women/AFAB people.  So I’m willing to risk “The same Anime bullshit” for good jokes and a cute lezzy romance with a beautiful butch.  (Volume 1 is set to release of December of this year.)

My Excitement Level: Pretty nervous actually.  I hope it works out!

Monologue Woven for You

Story & Art by: Syu Yasaka     Publisher: Seven Seas

A woman gives up on a career in theater gets tangled in a relationship with a woman passionately pursuing theater.  Since it is set between college age women, and appears to be about more personal and mature themes I am interested. (Volume 1 I BELIEVE is supposed to be released in February of next year.)

My Excitement Level: Cautious Optimism

Mizuno and Chayama (No page yet so far as I can tell.)

Story & Art by: Yuhta Nishio     Publisher: Yen Press

Two daughters of feuding families meet in secret.  This is by the same author of After Hours.  I read a bit of After Hours and found it fine but boring since it seemed without conflict.  Conflict doesn’t seem to be in short supply with a story like this!  While I enjoy the sugary-sweet high school lesbian romances...those are not in short-supply. So I am always hungry for something darker, meatier, more mature. (Volume 1 is set to release next February) 

My Excitement Level: Cautious Optimism

5 Seconds Before The Witch Falls In Love

Story & Art by:  Zeniko Sumiya     Publisher: Seven Seas

It appears to be a playful fantasy about a Witch and Witch-hunter who’s antagonism turns romantic.  This may end up one note and stupid...but I’m always hear for queer romances set in high-fantasy and I haven’t read a Yuri where rivals turns to lovers. (Volume 1 is set to release next February)  

My Excitement Level: Low-key

Catch These Hands! (No page yet so far as I can tell.)

Story & Art by: Murata     Publisher: Yen Press 

A former delinquent runs into her high school rival.  After losing a fight to her she agrees to her terms...her terms being to go out on a date with her.  I mean the title alone makes me want to pick it up!  It may run afoul of bad anime humor, but I’m hoping with the fact that it’s full of gay adult delinquents that it’ll be a little different.  (Volume 1 is set to release next February)  

My Excitement Level: Medium-key

Series I have discontinued:

I’m in love with the Villainess

Art by: Aonoshimo  Story by:  Inori   Publisher: Seven Seas

A woman gets reborn into her favorite Otome game but she wants to romance the villiain!  I had heard a ton of great things about the novel but I picked up the manga version. (If the novel is totally different I can’t speak to it.)  For me, the writing is ham-handed, the jokes flop 90% of the time, and the fact the lead’s only personality trait seems to be ~obsessed with a bully~ really dampens this title.  Her advances are so aggressive and unwanted I honestly started feeling bad for a spoiled rich bully.  I will say it’s saving grace is the fact that the lead is masochistically into the villainess’ tsundere abusiveness. For me I hate tsundere romances if framed like, “I like you DESPITE your insults.” It is only tolerable if it’s instead, “I like you cause you tell it like it is. I’m a dirty little pig. Please step on this bad little piggy!”

Our Teachers are Dating

Story & Art by: Pikachi Ohi      Publisher: Seven Seas

Well one reason I stopped the series is that cover you see up there.  The sex in this series is fade to black but FOR SOME REASON the 3rd cover has them both butt naked.  But on a less superficial note, the story is about two teachers who start dating.  And while cute at points, I was just underwhelmed.  I think a part of it, is the fact that this behaves like a stereotypical high school romance...and while set in a high school...these are grown ass women not 15 year olds.  So I have less patience with the, “Gosh when will I get to kiss my girlfriend?” bullshit.  I mean, I would hesitate to call it bad...but it’s just not a good version of it’s brand of bullshit.

Breath of Flowers

Story & Art by: Caly                       Publisher: Tokyopop

Absolute train-wreck, this is hands down the worst Yuri I have ever bought.  The story is nonsensical and all over the place.  There is a love rival who’s trying to break the two of them up so she can get with Gwyn...but then switches mid-gear to put in a lot of effort to bring them together intentionally...but she also still wants to hook up with Gwyn...it’s very ????????????  The main conflict of Gwyn is hiding their gender so they can play basketball on the boy’s team (not well explained) is built up hugely and resolved with a hand flick.  There is a melodramatic moment where a school nurse says more or less, “GIVE IT UP YOU’LL NEVER BE A BOY!” And it’s like “OH SHIT! The fact that Gwyn is on the basketball team is cause he’s a transboy trying to live life as a boy! Oh gosh it makes so much more sense now!”  But the author seems to not even know that trans people exist cause the story bumbles along as if that scene never happened.  The closest we get is at the end Gwyn is like, “Look I’m learning to do make-up on myself to make you happy lawl!” Which is I GUESS supposed to be, “NO NO DON’T WORRY ALL OF GWYN’S GENDER STUFF WAS JUST THERE TO MAKE THE MAIN CHARACTER SEXUALLY CONFUSED WHEN SHE DISCOVERS GWYN’S TRUE GENDER!  HER TRUE GENDER IS 100% CIS WOMAN CAUSE SHE DID MAKE-UP ONCE! IT’S FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE!” Like whaaaaaaaaat?  And it ends on a very random scene which doesn’t really fit in with the rest of the story.  Ugh just very bad do not interact!

A White Rose in Bloom

Story & Art by: Asumiko Nakamura    Publisher: Seven Seas

At an all girls catholic school a young woman falls for a mysterious foreign student.  I grabbed this cause it’s gay and I overall like Asumiko Nakamura’s work (she also does Doukyusei, double mints, and others.)  However I was just not grabbed with this title.  I just felt like I wasn’t getting what was making the MC pants on head obsessed with Steph.  Also the lead’s mother tells her that she’s getting divorced and therefore will no longer have money to pay for the university and she’s framed like a super bad person for this.  Like I get why the MC (a teenager) would think that something like that is THE END OF THE WORLD! But I remember them really framing the mom like a selfish bitch for this...when like...it’s well established that her mom and dad’s relationship has been toxic for YEARS and that they TRIED SO HARD to fix it.  OH WELL!  This might be good but it just didn’t grab me in the 1st volume.

I’ll make a post on the BL titles later! Take care and Stay Rotten!

[gxccistyless]

Kiwi || Part Six.

So um HELLO. I’m aware it’s been a very long time, truth be told I had totally forgotten about this!! I wanted to however finish this series before starting on anything new and so after this there will be a part seven and then perhaps an epilogue. IN THE MEANTIME HOWEVER I AM TAKING REQUESTS FOR HARRY SHORTS — What I mean by this is, well give me a prompt or something you want written and I’ll try my best!

Hope you all enjoy part six of Kiwi!

If you’re new here, please subscribe/follow... If you’d like to catch up you can read Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four and Part Five . ENJOY!!

“Please give me another chance? I know we’ve been through a lot but i really do love you and want to at least try and make things work…” The two of you had sat in the room in undisturbed silence for a further five minutes before you nodded your head. When you realised he couldn’t hear you nodding, you finally spoke.”Yes” Harrys breath hitched in his throat and if you ask him, he’ll swear his heart skipped a few beats. “But i have a few conditions...” He nodded waiting for you to continue. “You have to stop drinking and get yourself straight. You need to start talking to someone about your problems... and i want us to go to therapy... together.” The thought of talking to someone else about everything going on in his life and explaining to them why he would drown himself in alcohol seemed rather daunting, but a small price to pay to get back the love of his life. He tries to argue with you but he knows that you hold all the cards and he holds none, so he agrees. “do you know the gender?” You shake your head “Would you like to know?” He shakes his head in response “I quite like the idea of a surprise, seems very on theme”  he lets out a small giggle, as do you. He moves closer to you and even though it feels a little awkward he reaches out for your hand and you give it to him, you both turn your attention back to the baby on the screen.

When Anne and Gemma return to the room that’s how they find the two of you, holding hands, looking at the child the two of you made together. Anne smirks a little, she’d been rooting for the two of you. Gemmas eyes go back and forth between your linked hands and both of your faces. “Thank Christ, I honestly thought I’d have to lock the two of you in the laundry room later, bloody as stubborn as each other” you roll your eyes, but you know she’s right. 

_______________________________________ On the drive back to the apartment Harry and Gemma had organised that they would take turns to babysit you over the coming weeks. Harry would of course move back in and stay at night, and Gemma would watch you whenever he needed to be out of the apartment.  Anne was adamant that she would come down every weekend to cook and help prepare a space for the baby... neither you or Harry could argue with her. 

You could no longer fit the bump behind the wheel of a car and quite frankly after all the ups and downs of the last few weeks everyone was a bit worried that you would go into labour prematurely, yourself included. Even though you had promised Harry another chance you still had boundaries and wanted to take things slowly, he respected your boundaries and reluctantly slept on the couch. He quickly realised after two nights on a more than uncomfortable couch that this arrangement wouldn’t work. Never mind the fact that he was sleeping on a terrible couch that there was hardly any space for in this shoebox sized apartment, where would this baby fit when it came, your bedroom barely fit your side tables and bed let alone a crib for the baby. 

“I think we ought to look at moving you to my place...” he broached the topic with you less than 48 hours after taking up residence on the couch. “Really? Why? I quite like it here” He shakes his head “I understand that, but where is this baby going to go? You know babies have stuff too... like a crib and a high chair, love you don’t even have room for a dining table in here let alone a high chair and your bedroom has absolutely zero room for a crib or a bassinet” 

Deep down you know he is right, this apartment is way too small to fit all three of you, heck it barely was enough space for you and now Harry is back in the picture and the bump is very rapidly approaching it’s due date. The thought of moving right now however really overwhelmed you, the thought of being seven months pregnant and then moving all the stuff that you had made you feel like you were drowning, so you told him that through sobs.

“I’ll pack this up, I’ll send you to Mums for a night or two.... you don’t have to lift a finger.. I promise you I’ll do all the hard work, but love if I have to sleep on this couch for a second longer than necessary I might go insane, my back is so sore you have no idea the pain that I’m —” he stops himself and looks up at you, your face had a less than impressed expression “you have barely slept on this couch for two nights, how about you try carrying a watermelon around on your pelvis for seven months, a watermelon WITH YOUR HEAD”  you let out a huff. He brings you to the couch and gives you two minutes to just sit alone undisturbed with a glass of cool water. When he returns you’ve had enough time to think about everything he’s said, you tell him that as long as he promises you don’t have to pack a single box, you agree to move. 

That night you demanded that he sleep in the bed next to you, he was given strict instructions to stay on his side of the bed and you thought for certain you’d have no trouble staying on yours, especially considering the large pregnancy pillow in the middle. Even though it went against all the boundaries you had set, god forbid you have to hear him complain about his back tomorrow. He didn’t think twice when the words came out of your mouth, making his way straight to the bed. The next morning you woke up to your pregnancy pillow on the floor your legs entangled with his, his hand on the bump. 

______________________________________

Two days later you are moved into his London house. It’s definitely bigger than your last place, a bedroom for you, a room for the baby and a room for Harry too and even then some to spare. Truth be told you didn’t use the room that was intended for you, telling Harry that the cooling system was much better in his room than yours. Both he and you know that this is a lie, but neither of you speak the truth. The two of you have started couples therapy, it’s really helped the two of you sort through issues and talk about old wounds. Harry even started solo sessions to help him cope with his drinking problem.   _______________________________________________ As the bump continued to increase in size and your due date got closer it became harder to leave the house. Not only because you were uncomfortable and large, but the tabloids  had caught onto the fact that you and Harry had moved back in together and so that meant that the paparazzi were camped out on your front door at all hours of the day. Harry tried to do as much work as he possibly could from home, but there were times where this was impossible and so true to her word Gemma came to keep you company, jumping any time you would move. 

________________________________________________

The days went on and on with no sign of baby. “Maybe they don’t want to come until we can decide on names” you’d both gone back and forth on names for a few weeks now.  “What do you think about James for the middle name?” He says whilst his head is in his morning paper. Truth be told you hadn’t been thinking of James for the middle name, you’ve had a boy middle name picked out for the longest time, but as for a first name... well you had nothing.

With a girl name however, well girl names came in an abundance, and it was a back and forth of name throwing, with a list longer than what your final thesis had been at uni. If this poor kid turned out to be a boy he would be lucky to even have a first name let alone a middle name.“It’s very British innit? and i was thinking it’s very gender neutral, so could work no matter what we have boy or girl” You roll your eyes at the thought, but just smile in agreement... He will forget about this in an hour and he’ll have mentioned another three names before the day is through. 

“I quite like the name Grayson” it’s been one of your top picks for the longest time, whilst other names have come and gone Grayson has stayed. But Harry, well he won’t have any of it, he is totally against the name. He says something about the name doesn’t scream success, and that he wants his son to have a strong name. “So what James is a strong name to you? Do you know how many James’ there are in the UK alone? It doesn’t exactly scream individual?!” The two of you had been playing this back and forth on names since the night you moved in to his house. It started over text whilst he was moving your boxes and then eventually just became something the two of you would discuss every day.

 “Ok... ok...  we don’t have to decided right now, but eventually we will. But Grayson is definitely off the table” You’re taken back by his authority and you’re a little mad that he’s dismissed your favourite name so easily without even thinking about it. “Well if Grayson is off the table, the James is too”  You stomp off toward the bathroom and run yourself a bath. Staying in there for what seems like an eternity. You think of how his face fell when you told him James was vetoed as a name. You’d like to think that he felt a little pang in his heart too when he realised your feelings were just as hurt. You intend to apologise to him, you intend to explain everything to him, you hope he’s still here when you get out of the bath.

When you reach the bedroom and slump onto the bed his back is facing you, you turn on your side trace your fingers over his torso tattoo. He tenses. You know he’s a little mad from earlier, he had really liked James for a middle name, and the way that you shot him down had hurt him, but in fairness he had hurt you too. “Harry.. Harry turn around... please?” He turns to face you, but doesn’t make eye contact with you.”It’s not that i don’t like your suggestion Harry, i do, but i’ve had a boy middle name picked since i first found out i was pregnant. And well, i’m sorry but James just doesn’t compare to it...i have a really strong name after a man who is so special to me, who i know this baby will admire and well.. James...  it just won’t do.. it does’t compare. And so if we have a boy I want his middle name to be Edward” 

The moment it rolls off your tongue his eyes light up, he finally makes eye contact with you. His breath hitches and his lips part, his eyes fill with tears. He brings you in close to him, hand back to the bump where it’s been at every moment possible.

[plaidbooks]

The Detective and the Teacher

A/N: This idea kinda came out of nowhere, but I needed to get it out of my head (like most of my stories). It’s a two-parter, and I’ll post part 2 tomorrow. If people are interested, I could make it into a longer series, but I also am kind of ok with it being short. Also, idk how to write dates, sorry

Tags: None for this part, next part will

Words: 3k+

I have a meeting with a cute guy in my class. You should come, meet him

You rolled your eyes at the text your friend sent you. She was a professor at Fordham University, teaching Risk and Crisis Communications to undergrads and graduate students. She, however, was happily married. But that didn’t stop her from finding cute guys in her class and trying to set them up with you. “They’re college students; they’re going somewhere in life,” she would argue. Besides, her idea of “cute college guys” wasn’t totally off; the main problem was waiting for someone around your age to be in her classes. You were a teacher yourself, in your early 30s, and most people taking her classes were right out of high school; way too young for you.

It was the beginning of summer in New York, so you didn’t have classes, instead volunteering at the library. Your friend, Professor Stafford, was teaching night classes this semester; sometimes she stayed after class to help a student if they asked…and they couldn’t make her office hours. So, it was 8pm by the time you were walking the halls of the University, a coffee in your hand—an excuse to meet with a friend. It was her idea; if there was a potential date for you, she’d text you, you’d come to the University with a coffee or food to deliver it to her before the meeting, then casually “bump” into the student. You made it to her classroom, handed her the coffee.

“So, what’s his name?” you asked, grinning.

She took the coffee gratefully, taking a sip before replying. “Andrew Wise. He’s one of my top students; I think you’ll really like him.” She gave you a playful wink and you rolled your eyes.

“You said that about the last three guys, and they were all snobby jerks,” you laughed.

She opened her mouth to respond when there was a soft knock on the door, a man poking his head in. “Uh, Professor Stafford? Should I wait outside?”

“No, no Andrew. Come in. This is just my friend, dropping off some coffee,” she said, beckoning him in.

You looked Andrew up and down briefly; he seemed nice, and there was nothing really wrong with him, but just the vibe he gave off had you instantly thinking, nope. You gave a smile and wave to your friend before heading out, letting them have their meeting. You didn’t feel like waiting, like trying to come up with a reason to wait, to talk to Andrew after his meeting. Instead, you wandered through the hallways, looking out the windows to the trees, the sky darkening. The sunset was slowly fading, the sky changing from the bright pinks and oranges to the pale blue of evening. You were so engrossed with the picturesque beauty of it all that you walked face-first into another person, the side of your face fully connecting with their flat, warm chest.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” you said, pulling back to steady yourself, looking towards whoever you had just stumbled into. You looked forward and your eyes met chest, covered in a plain, Fordham U shirt. Your eyes travelled upwards into his face and you had to stop yourself from staring; he was, well, cute.

“It’s fine, really. I shoulda been watching where I was going,” he replied back, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. His dirty blonde hair was slicked back, his brow was furrowed, though his bright blue eyes hinted at amusement.

You smiled up at him, and he returned it, a goofy grin pulling easily across his face. “No, I was definitely admiring the view,” you gestured out to the landscape. You noticed the backpack slung over his shoulder, “and now I’m holding you from your next class.”

“No, no, I’m done for the night; just heading home actually.” He readjusted the backpack, as if your gaze had shifted it. He glanced over the balcony and towards the sky. “It really is a pretty view, huh?”

Your eyes never left him as you agreed. God, you’re acting like a teenager in a shitty romance novel, you thought to yourself, trying to snap out of whatever trance you were in.

“So, uh, do you go here?” he asked, eyes sliding back to you.

You shook your head. “I don’t, no. Uh, Professor Stafford is a friend of mine. I was just stopping by to say hi,” you explained.

“Professor Stafford? Hmm, doesn’t ring a bell. I dunno if I know them,” he said, contemplating. At some point during this conversation, you both fell into step next to each other, both heading towards the parking lot.

“Are you taking any Communications courses?” you asked.

“And that’s why I haven’t heard of them; I am not,” he grinned. “I’m a law student.” You nodded in understanding; while you thought Communications could be beneficial to a law student—to most students, if you were honest with yourself—most people didn’t take classes outside of their majors. Especially in a field that was so dependent on passing an exam.

“Well, if you ever need an elective, I highly recommend her class,” you smiled.

He chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.” You walked in silence for a moment. “My name’s Sonny, by the way. Sonny Carisi.”

It had just hit you that you never introduced yourself; with the shock of literally walking face-first into someone, then the easy conversation, it had completely slipped your mind. It was like you were old friends already. “Oh, [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. Nice to meet you, Sonny.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he gave you that goofy grin again, and you swore that you swooned right there. How did he do that with just a smile? You made it to the parking lot and found that you were parked semi-close to each other. He followed you to your car, something that you initially thought should raise alarms in your head, but something about him was calming, unthreatening.

“So,” he started as you unlocked your car. You opened the driver’s door, then leaned on it, him standing near the front of your car. He suddenly looked nervous, bashful, and it made him look even cuter. “Can I maybe buy you a coffee sometime? To, uh, make up for running into you,” he quickly added.

You felt your face grow warmer as you blushed, your heart fluttering. Did he just ask you out? “Uh, yeah. I’d like that,” you replied, unable to stop yourself from grinning broadly at him.

He smiled himself, seemingly happy that you agreed. “Great! How about tomorrow, say 10am, Cuppa Beans on 6th street?”

You quickly thought through tomorrow, made sure you had nothing scheduled in the morning. “That sounds perfect. I’ll see you there, Sonny.” With that, he made his way to his car while you got into yours. Once he was out of your line of sight, you flailed your arms in disbelief—you got a date with a super-cute law student!

 *****************

You woke up the next day early, wanting to shower and pick out something cute to wear. While you got ready, you thought back to the information you had found last night. You weren’t stupid enough to go into a date blind; you googled “Sonny Carisi” the first moment you could the night before. And when that came up with nothing substantial, you asked Professor Stafford for help. Turns out, Sonny was a nickname; his real name was Dominick. With that knowledge, you were able to find that he was a detective for the NYPD, specifically for Manhattan’s SVU department. That gave you a little bit of a pause; you couldn’t imagine having to deal with those kinds of cases, what kinds of things Sonny had probably seen on the job. You wondered if that did anything to his mind, weighed on him at all. You hoped so; someone would have to be a monster for it not to. Maybe that’s why he was a law student, maybe he wanted out. Maybe he wanted some sort of revenge against the predators that he couldn’t get as an officer; some sort of control by being the prosecutor tasked with sealing them away rather than seeing the crime scenes.

You pushed the assumptions out of your mind; you didn’t know this man, not yet. You had met him less than 24 hours ago, had a small chat. He seemed nice enough, and he was definitely attractive. You resolved to judge him based on what you gained from first-hand experience, and to shove everything you learned online, all the conjecture out until you knew more.

Cuppa Beans was relatively close to your apartment, and it was a bright, sunny day in New York, so you opted to walk. Besides, you loved the fresh air of the city, the warmth of the sun on your skin, the soft breeze playing with your hair, the cacophony of sounds that others most likely found annoying or monotonous. You wore a simple, navy blue sundress that had a white tie around your waist, a big, white bow on your hip. You made your way through the crowded streets, full of people hurrying to whatever their destinations might be. You were early; you always were. But you didn’t mind; Cuppa Beans was set up for either those who wanted a coffee and to move on with their day, or for those who wanted to sit and relax, a shelf of books on their counter for anyone to read while they enjoyed their beverage. You ordered then sat, skimming the worn spines of books until a familiar one stood out to you. You picked it out, looking at the familiar cover. Remembering one of your favorite scenes, you opened the book, flipping the pages until you found it, then you quickly got lost in the text while waiting.

“[Y/N],” a happy voice greeted, pulling you out of the book.

You glanced up, Sonny standing in front of you, his trademark grin on his face. He pulled out the chair across from you as you closed the book, putting it back on the shelf.

“Hey Sonny,” you smiled. Right then, the barista brought you your coffee and you thanked her.

“Ah, I thought I was going to buy you a coffee,” Sonny said, jokingly offended.

Your smiled widened. “You have to order something to sit here, sorry,” you explained, taking a sip. Sonny ordered his coffee, and the barista left to make it.

“It’s fine; maybe I can convince you to let me buy you lunch instead.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Are you asking me out on a second date before we’ve even had our first?”

His cheeks reddened and his eyes widened slightly. “Well, it doesn’t have to be…I mean, it can be an extension of this one?” You laughed, and he tried to switch the subject. “So, what were you reading when I got here? You seemed really into it.”

You nodded, grabbing the book once more. “It’s called Wind from an Enemy Sky by D’Arcy McNickle. It’s very good; I’m thinking of using it in my class next year.” He furrowed his brow at this. “Oh, I’m an English teacher at Townsend Harris High School…I know, I’m not a college professor at Fordham like my friend, but I like teaching high school.”

“High school, huh? I couldn’t imagine trying to teach a bunch of teenagers anything,” he smirked.

You nodded; that was most people’s reaction. But it was also that reaction that made you want to teach high school more. “It’s not as bad as people seem to think. They are people, you know. Just treat them with respect, and they’re pretty receptive. I mean, you’re going to have those class clowns, but you just have to know how to deal with them. Stimulate their minds in other ways,” you explained.

The barista gave Sonny his coffee, and he sipped at it appreciatively. “So, what’s the book about?” You started off slowly, explaining the main plotline of the book; how it followed Bull, the leader of the Little Elk tribe, and how it talked about how homesteaders came into the West, encroaching upon their land. But you couldn’t stop yourself from diving in, talking about the inherent cultural appropriation that the main antagonist has, how from the first page, you know how the story will end in tragedy, how the ecocentrism worked, and ending with how important it was for teenagers to read and understand books that were written like this; from the other side, from people other than white men.

By the end of your monologue, Sonny was blinking at you, a dazed look on his face, though something else underneath, something that looked a lot like admiration.

“I’m sorry; that got a lot more in-depth than I thought it would,” you said, cheeks turning red. Sometimes, you couldn’t stop yourself from getting into a text you really liked. Your students usually picked up on that and took advantage of it; many classes ended without the students talking because you had steamrolled over the conversation.

“Hey, don’t apologize for your interests. You just know…a lot more about themes and novels than I do,” he smiled.

You sat up at the praise but were still feeling embarrassed at the word vomit that had occurred. Taking a page out of his book, you decided to switch topics. “Tell me about yourself; how is it working as a detective and being a law student?”

Sonny’s brow furrowed, “how’d you know I was a detective?”

You face felt even warmer, and you knew you were fully red now. “I, uh, googled you last night…nothing personal, just wanted to make sure you weren’t, you know, a serial killer or something,” you laughed nervously, and he smirked.

“No, I get it, that’s smart, really. Can never be too safe.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I’ve wanted to be a lawyer for a while, now, but the timing just never seemed right, ya know? So, after high school, I just kinda went into the academy; I knew I wanted to help people, and I figured that was a good way to do it. It wasn’t until recently that I figured ‘why not’? So, now I’m taking the night classes to try and get my license, pass the bar.”

You nodded along with his story; you yourself changed your major a couple times before settling into where you were. It was definitely normal, and you believed wholeheartedly that anyone could go back to school at any point in their life, learn anything they wanted to.

“Are you going to switch out of law enforcement when you pass the bar, then? Become a prosecutor? Or are you just taking law classes to help you in your detective work?” you asked. The idea occurred to you while in the shower; knowing more about the law could help in the interview rooms, when he interrogated suspects. You knew he said he wanted to be a lawyer before, but that didn’t mean he was going for it.

“I’m…not quite sure, yet. I really like being a detective, ya know? I like helping people. I guess at this point, I just want to pass the bar; that’s where my focus is…when it’s not at work,” he explained. “I can figure out where to go after that.”

You nodded again. “I couldn’t imagine trying to work full time in…that department, and then also take college classes,” you commented. You shuddered remembering your time going to school full time and working retail at the same time.

“It can be…taxing sometimes. But at the end of the day, it’s nice knowing I’ve helped somebody.” There were unspoken words in the air, and you could hear them as if he had said them. You noticed it in his eyes, the flash of sadness as he thought about the ones he couldn’t help. But the moment passed, and his bright blues were clear once more.

That answered your other question; some cases did hit him hard. But, as you had also decided, that was a good thing; cases like that should pull on heartstrings. You noticed he had a hand on the table, and you reached up and slowly, so slowly, put your hand on his in comfort. That goofy grin reappeared on his face, and he interlaced his fingers with yours.

You both finished your coffees, then left the shop together, Sonny holding the door open for you, his hand never letting yours go. By some unspoken agreement, you both started walking down the street, hand-in-hand, arms swinging slightly. You asked Sonny about his semester and listened as he rambled on about some theory he had to memorize, or some law he had to apply to a fake case for a class. You realized that you enjoyed listening to him talk; he was very animated, dropping your hand to gesture in front of himself, then taking your hand again, before dropping it to gesture again. You smiled, then laughed as he described one of his professor’s insane expectations for how much he expected his students to read and write, wondering in awe how Sonny managed to juggle all that schoolwork plus his job.

“Do you sleep?” you finally asked, causing him to chuckle.

“Some nights,” he replied, and you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

Maybe because you were feeling bold, or maybe because he did already kind of ask you on a second date, but you replied with, “maybe I can help with that sometime.”

He stumbled a step, his hand gripping yours tighter as he struggled to stay standing, and you giggled. His cheeks were red, and he opened his mouth to say something, but then his phone rang. He dug it out, answering with a terse, “Carisi.” It was interesting watching him go from a flustered mess one moment to focused detective the next. He nodded against the phone, even though whoever was on the other end couldn’t see him. “Yeah, alright Lieu, I’ll be there in 20.” He hung up then gave you an apologetic look.

“Duty calls?” you asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, just got some new…developments on a case I’m working. I’m so sorry about this—”

“Don’t be, I get it,” you cut him off, giving him an understanding smile. If you wanted to try and continue seeing him, then this may become a habit…and you did want to try and see him, even though you’d only been on one date. You already felt a closeness to him that you couldn’t quite explain.

“I parked over at the coffee shop; I can walk you back there,” he offered, extending his hand back to you. You took his, interlacing your fingers once more, and hurried back towards the shop. Before he left, he handed you his card—you struggled not to laugh at the fact that he carried these around on his day off—and you put it in your purse, vowing to text him later that night, to set up that lunch that he offered to take you to.

“So, you do want a second date?” he asked, hopeful. You smiled; he was all in a hurry to head to the station, to get into whatever work awaited him, but he had stopped dead in his tracks at the prospect of another date.

“Of course. I had a great time today, Sonny.”

He grinned back at you, making your heart flutter in your chest. “I had a lot of fun, too. Hopefully our next date won’t be cut short.”

[escxpedes]

loopholes (fin.)

Remember when I said I’d post this like two days after the last part? No? Me neither... Sorry about the delay, I’ve had a severe lack of motivation. (It’s mental illness innit.) I feel like every part of this story gets longer and longer, and makes even less sense. If you haven’t read the other two parts, I recommend you do so. These technically can be read standalone, but I think it’s cuter when you read them knowing the context. Even though, again, they seem to make less sense the more I write. Lots of new information came about season 5, and it’s both nerve-racking and exciting at the same time! Three cheers for anxiety, amiright? Hope you all are doing well, I’m excited to hear the feedback on the last part of this series. Let me know if there’s anything you’d like me to write, I’m a sucker for prompts! x  

part one | part two

~

loop·hole

noun | A loophole is an ambiguity or inadequacy in a system, such as a law or security, which can be used to circumvent or otherwise avoid the purpose, implied or explicitly stated, of the system.

~

hands that wrap around my wrists, (and arms that feel like home.)

Shutting down the monitors she was using, Riley tries not to think about how her sleep deprivation affects her body. It’s one thing to work as a distraction, but the drag in her pace tells her this coping method is wearing her down.

How is she supposed to save innocent lives when she’s so exhausted.

And she is, exhausted, that is. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. Every part of her is weightless, suspended in air, and it feels like she can’t do a single thing about it.

An irritating helplessness encompasses her, tightening its grasp on her sanity.

She wants to cry out, throw something, cause a scene. Instead, she buries her feelings deep in her subconscious and tries not to focus on how tight her chest is.

It’s an occupational hazard, she tells herself. It’s nothing she can’t handle, she repeats daily. It’s almost a mantra by now, echoing inside her head and ramping up what seems to be an infinite supply of determination.

It’s the only way.

Mac waits for her outside, leaning against the building while she locks up. Her vision is still kind of fuzzy due to lack of energy, and her body doesn’t seem to be completely awake yet. She can physically feel Mac’s concerned gaze burning a hole in her cranium as if staring hard enough will give him access to all recesses of her mind.

“Ready?”

She nods, feigning a smile, and bumping his shoulder with her own, “You never mentioned why you stopped by so late.”

Ignorance is bliss, right?

“I left my phone in the labs.” She can hear the exasperation in his voice; concern rushes forward and sends a pang through her heart.

Suddenly, she’s irritated too, not with Mac, but for Mac. He does the right thing for humanity despite all that humanity has done to him. She can’t imagine how frustrated he must be with the entire situation, once again putting the world before himself.

He’s had so little time to process everything.

She knows he could use a break but also knows that he won’t admit he needs one.

For how smart he is, he can be really stupid sometimes.

When she turns her head to look at him, she can tell she’s lost him to his own thoughts. His eyebrows are furrowed, his usually clear eyes unfocused, and his mouth is set in a grim line.

If she listens closely, she can almost hear the gears turning, working out possible solutions, and thinking through every outcome.

It’s not an uncommon expression.

She stops abruptly, “Hey.”

This seems to shake him from his trance, his eyes meeting hers in a questioning manner.

“You are doing the best you can under the circumstances, but pushing yourself too hard won’t solve anything,” Her hand finds its way to his arm and squeezes reassuringly, “You can take care of the planet, but make sure to take care of yourself, too.”

The look he gives her is so full of gratitude and affection that nearly every emotion that Riley’s fought to contain bursts through its confinement and surges through her body.

“Thank you.”

Her breath catches in her throat, making it hard to breathe.

“What for?”

She really hopes the shaky breath that follows goes unnoticed.

“For always believing in me, no matter what.” His gaze is piercing, robbing the ability to form words from her throat.

She rakes her mind for something, anything, to say that will stop her from doing something she would totally, one hundred percent regret.

“It’s what Jack would do.”

It takes everything in her to break eye contact and shrug nonchalantly. Humor laces her tone, despite the sincerity of her statement. It is something Jack would do, something he taught her to believe in. Not necessarily in Mac, but what her gut is telling her.

It seems that in any given situation, before or after Jack’s departure, Mac’s intuition has always mirrored her own. Since the second he broke her out of prison, they always had the same values. Just like Jack, she learned how to read and understand Mac.

She knows how to interpret his rambling. She knows that no matter the situation, he’ll always put everyone else first. She knows that whatever crazy plan he’s come up with, it’s constructed with the best intentions.

She knows that no matter where he goes, and no matter what he does, her instinct is to trust him.

So she does.

With every ounce of her being. 

She desperately wants to share this with him, especially if it would probably make him feel better. However, she knows the second she starts talking, she won’t be able to stop. Mac’s got a way of doing that, translating her thoughts into words that tumble out of her before she can control what they might mean.

The grin Mac throws her, which conveys understanding and amusement, allows the tension between them to dissipate.

“Speaking of Jack, he would absolutely kill me if I let you drive home in your state.”

Before she can get a word in edgewise, he’s already opening the passenger side door of his truck. The tone in his voice leaves little room for debate, as if he’s ready to refute whatever argument she can muster up, so Riley doesn’t argue.

She wants to, but just the idea of operating a car sounds exhausting.

Besides, she’s missed this. She’s missed Mac, not just as someone she’s possibly in love with, but as her best friend. With everything going on, she’s hardly been able to see him.

The absence of him in her life hurts just as much as having him in it.

She literally can’t win.

The silence that follows is comfortable, the rumbling engine serving as white noise to Riley as she dozes off against the window.

She tries to, anyway. Driving with Mac is always an adventure, which is useful when trying to avoid being killed by a terrorist organization. Maneuvering Los Angeles traffic? Way, way less so.

“Maybe driving myself home wouldn’t have been such a bad idea.” She mumbles, fighting the urge to grab the handle above the door.

“Hey! I always get us home in one piece.”

“Physically maybe,” an amused smile finds its way to Riley’s face, “But mentally? I should sue you for psychological trauma.”

The look of disbelief that follows is enough to get her through several lifetimes, or it could be the smile he struggles to hide under his offended facade.

“Ouch,” Mac puts his left hand over his heart, “That hurts right here, Riles.”

The nickname throws her off, causing her stomach to flip. It’s just a silly name, it shouldn’t affect her like this, but her heart still clenches uncomfortably.

She attempts to brush it off, trying for a humoring grin that feels more like a grimace.

Though the comfortable atmosphere doesn’t change, the playful energy is replaced by more silence. As buildings pass outside, all Riley can think about is how much she hates silence. Man, what she would do just to get rid of it for a little bit. It’s constant these days, and it always finds her no matter where she goes.

Her fingers tug at her bottom lip, a nervous habit she’s recently adopted, as she tries to think through possible solutions to the predicament she’s found herself in.

She must be pretty engrossed because it takes her a minute to realize Mac’s spoken again.

“What?” Her brain slows down enough to pick out his words, something about how much sleep she’s gotten recently, “Oh, I don’t know.”

She tries not to notice how concerned he looks when he asks, “You don’t know?”

Not really

Logically, she knows that she sleeps almost every night. How long? It’s hard to tell sometimes. If she’s lucky, she can get a couple hours in before her brain goes into hyperdrive. Other times, she’d rather be doing something productive on her rig instead of staring at her ceiling fan.

She props her elbow against the window and rests her head in her hand, “I guess it hasn’t been a priority.”

From the corner of her eye, she can see him open his mouth and close it abruptly, trying to find the right words to comfort or soothe her.

As always, Mac is trying to rectify the situation.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

She doesn’t miss the parallel and throws him the same reclusive look he had given her on multiple occasions.

“That’s my line.”

There’s an irritating tension that fills the space, like the feeling you get when you can’t get past a certain level on a video game. It’s a little stifling, urging Riley to do whatever it takes to make it disappear.

“C’mon Riley, you’ve been off ever since, you know, the whole codex situation. At first, I thought, well, it was kind of traumatizing for everyone involved, but then you moved out and,” He trails off, and she can physically see him putting all the working components together, “Is it the apartment?”

God, she wished it was just the apartment. Sure, it plays a part in all her problems right now, but she knows that it’s more of what the empty apartment represents than the apartment itself.

Still, she’s glad he came to that conclusion. It’s easier to lie to him when it doesn’t pertain to the actual issue at hand.

“The apartment’s fine,” she says after a moment of hesitation.

“It’s the AC unit, isn’t it?” His lips compress shortly before he shakes his head, “I knew I should have looked at it.”

As he starts ranting about the condenser coils in her air conditioner and how easy it is for them to get dirty, Riley can’t help but let a soft laugh fall from her lips.

“Mac, it’s not my air conditioning.”

When he opens his mouth to respond, she holds her hand up to stop him. “It’s not my heater either, or my ceiling fan, or anything that might require your unique expertise.”

“But it has something to do with the apartment.”

The statement is blanketed in excitement as if he knows he’s getting closer to uncovering the truth. He’s always been so obsessed with knowledge and learning, never quite capable of letting things go and living in ignorance.

His eyes light up with child-like curiosity; it’s highly annoying and endearing at the same time.

She feels her self control loosening.

With Mac, she feels secure, like maybe she can put herself back together again. She could confess to a crime, and he wouldn’t look at her any differently.

That helplessness kicks back in, tearing her apart from the inside.

When he slows to a stop in front of her complex, she hasn’t answered him yet.

In the back of her mind, she’s a little proud of herself for only joking about his driving once in the ten minutes it took to get there.

She stares at the lobby entrance and can feel the soft flannel of his shirt, giving him a hug before she exits his truck. She can hear the sleepiness in her voice as she leans against the door and tells him goodnight. She can see herself walk through the double doors and not turning around.

She can see it so clearly, but she remains planted in the passenger seat.

Fear tangles itself in her shoulders, in her stomach, in her heart.

Not just because she dreads the idea of spending another night counting the minutes before her alarm goes off, but because she doesn’t want to leave with their friendship in this state.

She just wants everything to go back to normal, to get back some semblance of their old friendship before she knew how she felt.

Mac waits beside her, a patient and comforting presence.

“It’s just so quiet. Up there, it’s just me and my thoughts. They never cease or quiet down; it’s a constant loop. I try listening to music or watching TV, but I can never focus on any of it. Then, I start panicking because I don’t know if it’ll ever go away. There’s no comfort, no stability. I’m just… alone.”

With every word, a little of the weight falls from her shoulders.

It almost feels like she can breathe again.

“The only time I don’t feel like that is when I’m working,” she clenches her hands in her lap, “At Phoenix, I can get to any room in the dark with my eyes closed, and I’m constantly surrounded by people I’ve known for years. It feels… safe.”

Mac’s silent, reaching over to grasp one of her hands.

“You don’t feel safe here?” He encloses her left hand between his own and squeezes, the pressure and warmth spreading through her body like wildfire.

She meets his eyes, “Not in the way that matters.”

He turns the truck off, hopping out before Riley can say anything else. He walks around the hood of the car and pulls the passenger door open, “Come on.”

“What are you doing?”

He helped her out of the truck, “You trust me, right?”

More than he’ll ever know.

“You know I do.” She eyed him suspiciously as he opened one of the complex’s doors for her, following as she entered.

“From what I can recall, Bozer got you a Nintendo Switch for your birthday earlier this year. It’s been a while since I’ve had the pleasure of destroying you in Super Smash Bros.”

His voice was quiet, trying not to disturb the people trying to sleep.

“First of all, you’ve never destroyed me in Super Smash Bros, and you never will if you keep playing with Luigi,” She grinned, watching as he shook his head in disagreement, “And second of all, it’s two in the morning.”

He shrugged, “That’s never stopped us before.”

He wasn’t wrong, but things were different now.

Riley tried not to think about Desi, wrapped up in Mac’s bed, peacefully sleeping and blissfully unaware of this entire exchange.

Not that she had anything to worry about.

It didn’t matter anyway because clearly, Riley had issues with saying “no” to Angus Macgyver.

“Fine, but prepare to get your ass beaten.”

He grinned triumphantly, “That sounds like a challenge.”

She unlocked her apartment door, stepping into the dark and quiet entryway. She faltered a little bit, her heartbeat quickening with newfound anxiety.

As always, the apartment radiated energy that always put Riley out of place.

Mac closed the door behind him, helping himself to any food he could find in her fridge. There was an intimacy to it, a closeness that made the apartment much more bearable. Her shoulders dropped a little, the anxiety easing a little as she took a deep breath.

She busied herself in the living room, connecting the switch to her TV and grabbing a variety of different pillows and blankets.

It was, after all, a tradition for these types of events.

Mac joined her after a couple of minutes with two beers, “Your fridge is worse than mine.”

“Will you get it started,” Riley ignore his comment, handing him one of the controllers, “ I’m going to change.”

When she returned in a comfy ensemble of leggings and a sweatshirt, Mac was scrolling through the character list. She hopped the back of the couch to sit next to him, watching as he hovered over Luigi for what feels like an eternity.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Mac’s determined expression didn’t falter, “You’re just jealous of my skills.”

Those skills proved to be no match for Riley’s, though, after she managed to beat him in the first game. It became much more entertaining when she did it again in the second. She tried not to laugh, but it became nearly impossible with his onslaught of complaints.

“You’re such a cheater, you can’t do that!” He pressed down hard on the keys as if smashing them harder will make Luigi speed up.

Jokes on him, Luigi was the slowest character in the game.

Very slowly, her exhaustion began to creep up on her. She knew she was done for when Mac actually managed to beat her. He seemed just as surprised as she was, but he suggested switching to a movie anyway.

They ended up choosing a documentary, something that Mac had been interested in watching recently. Riley didn’t care what they watched, as long as she got to lay down.

Mac placed a pillow in his lap and tapped it gently.

“So, was this your plan,” She comfortably adjusted her body, so her neck wasn’t in an awkward position propped up on the pillow.

In front of them, a monotone voice explained the phenomena surrounding the universe.

“Homo Sapiens are social creatures; we need people to survive,” Riley could feel Mac’s fingers coursing through her waves, creating a soothing pattern that calmed any remaining tension in her body. 

“You feel comfortable at Phoenix, sitting around the fire pit at my house, or spending time with the team at the arcade because we’re there. It’s okay to need us, Riles, because trust me, we need you, too.”

Mac’s words barely resonate with her, and she hummed noncommittally in response.

His fingers gently combed through the tangles at the nape of her neck, “I don’t think we build homes in material things like houses or apartments, but rather, in the people we surround ourselves with.”

Laying there, with her head on his lap and his fingers in her hair, Riley could only think one thing:

He couldn’t be more right. 

[scriptaed]

his side, her side | 9:23 A.M.

genre: angst/fluff/implied smut; (bold = genre for this particular drabble)

pairing: reader x jungkook;

length: 1.8k;

synopsis: a collective snapshots in time shared between two, whose fates were undeniably intertwined and futures would never come to be.

a/n: this is not a chronological series; more so, his side her side is a collection of drabbles in which each drabble helps paint the overall picture. each drabble can be read separately without having read the others. // alternatively: his side, her side pt. 7;

her side; 

Jungkook [9:23 A.M.] Happy Birthday!!

You can still recall every fluctuation in the mayhem that he always brought along, particularly on that very hour of your day. A beacon of light had peeked through your curtains and perfectly struck your already-squinting eyes, but it isn’t the sun that has your heart racing like the end of a marathon that marks the start of your special day—rather, it’s the aftermath of its gentle shake that engraves this particular moment amongst the myriad of otherwise mundane, forgetful birthday mornings. 

It’s an overly cliche scene straight out of those young adult rom-coms you used to roll your eyes at, yet even you couldn’t remain immune to the flutters of your stomach and the drums of your chest when you awaken to the sight of his name first thing in the morning. You won’t admit it now, but the undeniable stretch of your grin upon reading his message is enough proof to your prideful self that he still manages to evoke an emotional response from you—even after all this time. 

A relieved sigh escapes your restricted chest as you prop yourself against the bed frame and dally with the unexpected task at hand. Flipping your phone from palm to palm, you mull over just how blindsided you had been to this incoming text. You had been arranging dinner plans for a girl’s night out in preparation for the one day you get to celebrate your ever-so-slow descent into adulthood and eventual retirement that you hadn’t even paused to anticipate this year’s annual texts from colleagues and classmates you had not heard from since… your last birthday; and even though Jungkook doesn’t exactly fall into that category, for you two had really only connected half a year ago, he was the last person you would have expected to be reminded of today. 

Come to think of it, it’s been a while since your mind had stumbled upon the ephemeral memories shared with him, a while since you caught him staring at you in the corner of your eyes, a while since you fidgeted with your hand and contemplated your choices of fight or flight. Ever since your project had ended and your excuses to strike a conversation with your partner dwindled to zero, you had convinced yourself that fate had finally given up on you and is now punishing you for leaving the myriad of granted opportunities to wilt; because you still bumped into him at work from time to time—but after that particular night of a gut-wrenching revelation, your ultimate decision to cut your ties came abruptly. 

It was no easy feat, that’s for sure. After having reality slammed before your eyes and accepting that maybe this red string that tied you to him is nothing but a silly fantasy, you had to somehow train yourself to forget everything you’ve come to know in the span of a month. You avoided him at work and on the walk home, you adjusted your daily routine to ensure your paths never crossed with his, you even archived his messages that you once found yourself daydreaming over the endless possibilities now burnt to ashes, until slowly but not certainly, he had become an afterthought.

Yet here he is, just as you’re about to forget him, like an old habit that trickles its way back into your daily routine, you find yourself smiling at the thought of him once again… and after all that has come to light? To be the first person to send you birthday wishes? You can’t help but snort at yourself and him, shaking your head at the naive skips of your heart and the audacity of a man who just doesn’t understand the repercussions of his alluring charm. 

Because even if you could no longer feel the same way about him like you did in a fleeting fragment of the past, you would never be able to deny this attractive force of his. He’s different from the others. He’s quiet, aloof, and intimidating, but his reputation can’t hold a candle to the real Jungkook you know. He’s more than the apathetic look he wears more often than not and he’s gentler than the devilish smirk that he adorns when he had witnessed something less than worthy of an arduous, feigned laugh, because the crinkle of his nose when you finally manage to crack a toothy grin on that face is worth every bit of intimidation. 

He doesn’t give a shit about what others thought of him because he sticks to his virtues and he treats every guy and gal—lame or popular, average or gorgeous—equally. He says he doesn’t give a shit about the opinions of others’, but he takes careful consideration into the delicate response of those affected by his actions. He does what he does because he believes in doing the right thing and not because he wants those extra points that has you believing in chivalry again. 

And all of that still holds true, that is, if the motives you suspect behind his text proves false. 

It’s a good thing your birthday came well after you had mostly gotten over whatever thing you had for him—otherwise, you’re sure things would have gone awfully awry today had you not been. You would have been clinging onto that last bit of hope and wondering what it means for him to have remembered your birthday and even go through the effort of sending you a message after all this time apart, but now, knowing what you know about him, you hold your head high with a smile hiding more than he could have ever had. 

Two can play at this game. 

You [10:12 A.M.] Thanks!! 😊

And for once, it really doesn’t mean anything more than that. 

-

his side; 

Notification [9:18 A.M.] Y/N’s birthday is today! 

Jungkook had just finished downing his first bottle of today’s many, hoping that his favorite drink, also known as water, would be enough to dilute the distasteful coffee he had willingly subjected himself to soon, when his phone vibrates against the kitchen island. The boy had leaned over the counter and grabbed ahold of his phone fully expecting to internally roll his eyes at social media and its pesky birthday reminders of people he doesn’t know well enough to just casually drop a wish for, but the familiar name that pops onto his screen freezes him in his tracks. 

It doesn’t occur to Jungkook how long it’s been since Y/N’s name had taken residence at the top of his notifications. A crooked grin cracks his precedent frown as he recalls the persistent messages Y/N had once bombarded him with in their time together. He can still remember the click of his tongue as he indulged in his cathartic workouts only to be disturbed by the seemingly endless stream of texts and reminders of work. Who would’ve known those memories would be revisited with a tender fondness that has even Jungkook dumbfounded? 

It isn’t like he totally forgot about Y/N. After all, out of everyone he’s met at work, she’s been the most peculiar one by far. Although their time was short, the fidgety hands, wavering eyes, and curt responses intertwined with the most giggly of laughs, she always kept him on the edge of his seat, wondering just what was going on in that mind of her’s—particularly when he came into work that one day and nothing was ever the same. 

Because some days he would spot her from the top of the stairs and try to greet her from afar only to watch her pivot on the balls of her feet and shuffle in the opposite direction. Sometimes he would bump into her on the way to their cubicles in the morning only to find himself searching for the girl in the following days turned into weeks and months, even. At times, he would even lock eyes with the girl across the hall, waiting for a response and wondering if he had mistaken himself when she passed by without a single greeting. 

Sometimes he felt like a ghost, not to the colleagues, not to the world, but to her. He couldn’t quite put the unsettling drop in his chest into words—because it isn’t exactly disappointment nor dejection. It was almost as if she had awoken one day, swept by the winds and the mystical moon, and for whatever reason, decided to sink a ship that had long set sail. 

But as Jungkook has come to learn, time flies by quickly, even for a man like himself; because whatever he was feeling, the heightened consideration catered toward her, the amusement he found in whatever she had in the works, the profuse feeling that something was fueling the two and something was inevitably bound to manifest, and the crash of confusion when it all came to an abrupt stop, had faded with each passing week. 

Still, even the sight of her name brings a grin to his lips. 

Seeing as how Y/N had shot him a birthday wish last time—and being the first and few ones to remember, at that—Jungkook figures it would be rude of him to swipe the notification into the abyss, even if the two had an unexplained, rocky interlude up to this point. 

Draft [9:22 A.M.] Happy Birthday

Jungkook cocks his head at the blunt message. Short and to the point, it’s a message he would have sent any other colleague… but seeing the fond birthday wish and gratitude the two had shared just a scroll above his drafts, he finds himself scratching at the task before him. 

“Jungkook?” a familiar voice calls from outside his apartment door. “Are you in there? You ready?”

“What? Oh, shit,” he curses when he notices the time on his phone. “Yeah, give me one second!”

You [9:23 A.M.] Happy Birthday!!

The phone is tossed to the side as Jungkook dashes to open the door to a girl who stands before him with a pout and crossed arms. Peering down at his partner, the chuckle that leaves his lips depart along with the thought of what he had left behind. 

“Don’t tell me you forgot about our coffee date,” she mutters. 

“And what if I did?” he laughs, freezing when he locks the door behind him. “Oh, shit.”

“What? Did you forget something?”

“Oh, uh,” he pauses, contemplating, “it’s nothing. Let’s go.”

He may have forgotten his phone, he may have forgotten having sent a message to someone he no longer held any ties to, but when he returns to the apartment and checks to see a heart next to his message and a reply right under, he would never forget the thought that crosses him in that very moment. 

It doesn’t mean anything more than that, right?

[smol-and-grumpy]

Sky Full Of Stars - CH03

Sequel to Something Just Like This

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, ex mobster boss, still a little cocky, less ruthless and not at all short tempered anymore. Instead, he thinks he’s hilarious (she doesn’t agree, though). They both try to live a quiet life. And Dean hopes, very hard, that his former life won’t come knocking at their door.

Warnings: NSFW, fluff, angst

WC: 2708

SERIES MASTERLIST

The bump is getting bigger every day and it’s annoying really. It’s always in the way, it’s everywhere she goes. 

Yesterday Y/N was sobbing because she couldn’t tie her own shoes and when she looked down on herself, all she saw was the tip of her big toes. 

She can’t really cuddle with Dean anymore either. Like she said, the bump really is in the way but it’s also good isn’t it? It means the little baby is growing to be healthy and strong. And oh god, Dean so big and she’s not and the baby has to come out of her vagina, and oh no. It’s not possible. She’ll tear everything down there. Nope, she’s not going to do it. Not going to give birth. Not now, not ever. She said what she said.

They’re in bed when these thoughts hit her and Dean spoons her from behind, telling her a story about something she didn’t really focus on listening to in the first place. Sorry, but she just can’t. There’s a living creature coming out of her in two months time and it’s not going to happen. Not when she has a say in this.

Dean can feel her tensing because he stops babbling, rubs his palm over her bare stomach and kisses her shoulder. “You okay?”

She sighs before she searches for words to answer him. How can she say that she’s not o-fucking-kay without him worrying? Because she doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want for him to worry. It’s her own anxiety induced thoughts and only she can deal with it. He doesn’t need to worry about her, really.

“I’m terrified,” She says anyway, because it’s the truth and she promised to herself that she’s not going to lie to him. Not anymore.

“Baby,” Dean whispers, his hand still strokes her big bump, and he noses at the back of her ear. “I am too.”

“You don’t have to push the baby out of your pussy, though.”

Dean chuckles lightly, his breath makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up. “No, I don’t. That’s true. But I’d do it for you if I could.”

“Liar,” It’s her turn to laugh, “You almost fainted when my stomach hurt from food and you were running around like a headless chicken because you thought that I had contractions.”

“Oh, come on, that’s totally different.” He’s louder now.

“Or when you made me squirt and you thought you broke my water.”

Dean lifts himself up on his elbow and she has to tilt her head back to laugh at him. He frowns, “That was last night and it was scary alright?”

“Of course,” Her hand goes up to pat his cheek.

“And I meant what I said. No sex until the baby’s out.”

She turns on her back, looks at him and pouts.

“Oh, don’t do that.” Dean sighs, his fingers brush along her face, paints along her brows, the bridge of her nose. 

“Do what?” She asks innocently. Of course she knows what he means.

“Your fucking pout, I swear,” He kisses her then, soft and tender but she wants more, so much more.

Her arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer and it isn’t long before he gives in. He always does. Dean could never resist her pout. It’s not going to be long until a small person will look at him with their big eyes and pout at him too and she is sure as soon as the child finds out Dean’s weak spot, it will use it against him like she does. 

It still builds up so quick between them and it gets her so hot when he slides his tongue into her mouth, fills it with the taste of him. 

Dean breaks the kiss and it gives her room to breathe. “Baby, Cas and Anna are coming around in a couple of hours. We need to get things ready,”

He kisses her again, though, can’t really stop either. 

“I know, we make it quick, please?”

His hand goes from her bump to her tits, kneads at them, his fingers twirls around her nipple. They’re even more sensitive now, and a little fuller, too.

She’s still naked from last night so he takes the opportunity, dips his head lower, sucks and licks at her throat, working his way down to her nipples and sucks them in, lets them out with a lewd pop right after. Her hand fists in his hair, scratches at his scalp.

He comes up again, looks at her with blown pupils, curses before he says, “Okay, but quick.”

Her smile widens, a smile of a winner, really. She turns around and lets him spoon her. There’s not a lot of positions anymore that she feels comfortable in. At least Dean has gotten over his thing about always wanting to see her face when they have sex. Maybe it’s only for the time being as they don’t have many positions to choose from. 

Dean pulls her closer, and she presses her ass against his hard cock, making him groan into her back at the friction she gives him.

Stroking his cock, Dean threads the mushroom head through her slick and she parts her thighs a little to give him better access. 

He’s still a tease though, rubs the head of his cock along her slit, not quite putting it in yet.

“Dean,” She chokes out his name.

“What do you want, baby?”

“You’re a tease,” She bites down on her bottom lip and flinches because he almost lost his cool there and slipped in a little. The tip of his dick is now inside but only the tip.

Dean groans a little himself, and grits his teeth, “I want you to tell me,” 

“Oh my god, I want your cock Dean, want it inside of me, plea—”

The word gets stuck in her throat when he pushes himself inside, making her moan out loud.

He moves, slow and steady, his arms come up to knead at her tits, fingers twisting her nipple, his mouth on her throat. “Still so fucking tight, baby,” 

She wants more, wants him to fuck her deep but she knows that he won’t go as deep as she wants him to because he’s too scared to hurt her, scared of hurting the baby.

His mouth is right by her ear as he whispers dirty, “Just fucked you last night, fingered you, made you fucking squirt but you’re still so goddamn tight.” 

Y/N loves it when he runs his potty mouth while they fuck, had always loved it. He always says things that make her blush.

Dean’s hand leaves her tits, strokes down her body, rubs along her bump, his hand touches her more gently around her middle. He goes further down, slips his hand between her thighs to rub at her clit, and she doesn’t know how he does it because it’s always better than when she does it herself. 

“You’re close,” He whispers and sucks at her pulse point on her throat, “I can feel you squeezing my cock,”

He’s right. Of course he’s right. She’s so fucking close because he’s brings her there, with his throbbing cock and magic fingers.

“Come, I’m right behind you.” He whispers, low and dirty and it sends shivers down her spine when he flickers at her clit one last time, pushing her off the edge, making her cramp down on his cock, making him spill inside of her. 

“So good,” He’s still half groaning next to her ear, “Always such a good girl for me,”

Her pussy flutters with the praise, as Dean still lazily fucks into her and sprays kisses along her shoulder and throat.

They lie there a while longer, his hand is up and massages at her bump again. The baby is awake, kicks at Dean’s hand and he has to laugh at that.

“You feeling better?” He asks, noses along her temple.

“Much,” She says, placing her hand on his.

“What do you think it’s going to be?” 

She thinks, long and hard. They still don’t know the sex of the baby, last time it didn’t want to show on the ultrasound and she doesn’t even know if she wants to know at all.

“Well, I hope it’s going to be a tiny human.”

Dean has to laugh at that, the sound loud and beautiful in her ear. 

“I hope it has your smile.” He says when he calms down.

“I hope it has your freckles, your eyes and your patience.”

“My humor,” Dean adds and she snorts at that.

He kisses her cheek, “Come on, we should shower and get moving.”

“I need your help,” She says and grunts as he peels himself from her back, slips his soft dick out of her with a squelching sound and she hates how she misses him already.

“With what?” He gets out of the bed, walks over to her side and helps her up, scoops her up and carries her to the bathroom. 

“I need to shave my legs and my pussy,”

Dean groans, he absolutely doesn’t like to help her shave her pussy and she knows that because he can barely keep himself from touching and fucking her while doing it. 

“You’re going to be testing my patience, baby.” He says, and gets into the shower, waits for her to join him.

 *

 Y/N helps Dean prepare for the BBQ and they finish with the preparation even before the Novaks arrive so she decides to lie down a litte, while Dean sets up the table on their terrace.

She lies with her head on the headrest of the couch, right by the door out to the terrace and Dean has to walk past her every time. She lifts her dress, bunches it up right underneath her boobs to watch the baby move. 

It’s so active now, it feels weird and it looks even weirder. She can see it tossing and turning around in her belly. 

When Dean comes in and picks something up in the kitchen, she calls out for him. “Dean, look!”

He stops dead in his tracks, looks at her belly. 

The baby is carving something along her skin, and it wriggles so hard that her belly looks unshaped and bulky. 

Dean stands there, watching, she sees him upside down when she looks up. “Have you ever seen Alien?” He asks out of the blue and walks to her, kneels down and kisses the bump. She has to swat at his arm for that stupid comment, though. 

Then, everything stops. The movement gets more smooth, it doesn’t trash around anymore.

“See, I calmed it down with a kiss, ha!” Dean smiles from ear to ear and she has to roll her eyes because now he’s gonna be incredibly cocky for the rest of the day. 

  Cas and Anna arrive with baby Elijah and the two women plus Cas are sitting and talking to each other.

After Dean had placed the things on the BBQ, he joins them too and Anna asks him if he wants to hold Elijah.

Elijah is six months old, a strong robust baby but still, Dean is reserved. “I dunno, what if I drop him?”

Anna chuckles, “It’s not hard Dean, you can’t break him.”

Y/N nudges at his arm. “Yeah, hold him.”

“Okay, okay, come on, what do I have to do?” He asks but Anna just pushed Elijah into his arms. 

It’s weird. Weird holding a baby that’s not Sam. Dean’s sweating bullets but won’t admit it. He breathes relief when he has an excuse to go turn the steaks and veggies over on the grill.

Cas comes to stands at the grill with Dean. Both of them sipping on their beers. 

“How are you?” Dean asks his friend. 

“Tired,” Cas sighs, “But it’s good. Anna still does most of the work but I help as best as I can.”

Dean nods at that, “You’re doing great, Cas. Anna looks happy, Elijah is healthy, what more can you wish for, right?”

“Yeah,” Cas agrees, “Thanks to you it’s possible for us to spend so much time with Elijah, though. So, thanks. We owe you a lot, if not everything.”

“Ah, stop it, Cas. You earned it. It has nothing to do with me.”

Cas takes a sip from his beer, “How are you?”

Dean takes his time to answer that, he looks back at Y/N, sees her holding Elijah on her lap while Anna gives her tips. 

Dean smiles, “I’m good. We’re good, Cas.”

It’s the first time that he uses these words when he’s feeling exactly that, either. 

“Good,” Cas says and there’s a exhale of breath before Cas speaks again, “Then I guess it’s not the right time to tell you that Crowley tries to get a deal with the FBI.”

“He what?” Dean gets loud and his eyes immediately shoots to the two women, is fucking thankful that they didn’t hear his outburst. 

Cas talks in a low voice now, “Gabe’s still working freelance and he overheard someone saying that Crowley is working on getting out. Don’t worry, it won’t happen today or tomorrow, maybe not even this year or the next, but he’s doing everything to get out.”

“You think he’ll hand us out on a silver platter?”

“Nah,” Cas shakes his head. “He has more skeletons in the closet than we do. He would only hurt himself because I don’t even think they know the full extent of his business. They caught him for corruption and abuse of power, little involvement in the coup that wasn’t — thanks to Y/N — but they don’t know what else there is, they can’t and won’t find anything unless one of us talks.”

“Can you talk to Gabe again? Let him set up a security company. Employ the best of people, war veterans like he and I are. Get 24/7 protection on all of us, including Sam and Ash. But not the obvious kind, protection you can’t really see, you understand?”

Cas raises an eyebrow, “So, you want ninjas?”

“Of course I want ninjas Cas. What else would I want?” Dean snarls, but then Cas chuckles and Dean has to drop his facade.

“I’ll let Gabe know, I don’t think he can get ninjas, though.”

“Good people, is all I ask for, really. There might be some from our old unit who would be interested since it’s legal, he should contact them. And he should let me know how much he needs and I’ll wire it over.”

Cas nods, “You still have your firearms?”

“Yeah, and you?”

“Me too, Anna hates it, though.”

“I don’t think that you’re the one he’s after if he gets out, Cas. So don’t worry about that, alright? I don’t want you to.”

“I’m worried about you.” Cas says and then adds, “No, actually, I’m not even worried about you, I’m worried about Y/N.”

“Yeah, me too.” Dean agrees, he looks to Y/N, sees her frowning at him. She probably knows that something’s not right. That something’s up in the air but Dean won’t tell, refuses to tell her that Crowley is trying to get out and the first person on his list might be her. 

It’s never going to be her, not if Dean can prevent it.

So Dean does what he can do best, and that is pretending that everything’s okay as he piles a plate with grilled veggies and steak and walks over to the girls. They eat and talk. Dean laughs when Cas and Anna tell them stories about funny little things that happened since Elijah’s birth. He rubs his hand on Y/N’s thigh every now and then, squeezes her, and she leans against him, tilts her head to his so he can kiss her. It’s good. Really good. He also watches Y/N smile at Elijah, sees her love for a child that’s not even hers. He loves that, he thinks. He loves her, loves his unborn child, and he’s keeping her, keeping them, would easily and readily give up his own life to save theirs.

CH04

[serenasoutherlyns]

Full of Surprises ch. 1-3

casey/alex, past alex/olivia. semi-au & fuzzy timeline, set post season 9. cross-posted from ao3 so the first three chapters are coming at ya all at once. TW for series-typical violence, SA, and discussions of mental illness. less graphic than the show. Fluff, romance, angst! First three chapters are totally SFW.

And yet, as she scanned the place, she caught someone she recognized. Sitting at the bar, bent over a notebook, was Casey Novak; her deep red hair tied back in a casual ponytail, an empty highball glass in front of her, chewing on the end of a click pen.

1 .

This wasn’t where Alex would usually find herself. Or at least, it didn’t used to be. Maybe it was now.

Emily had spent her evenings sat at a booth in the back of the local pub, watching and sketching. The books she’d filled, she kept them safely tucked in a box in the back of her closet, initialed “EC.” Alex couldn’t find it in her to draw much anymore.

Anne was alone more than not, spent long evenings reading philosophy, went running early mornings, yoga classes, taught herself guitar, filled hours on hours with ideas and exhaustion. Alex didn’t spend much time poring over The Republic these days, her guitar was long covered in dust.

In law school, her friends had a favorite table in the window of a little cafe, they would go from morning coffee to afternoon study to sharing bottles of red wine, coming and going as they pleased, debating with hopeful glimmers in their bright eyes. Late into the night, arm wrapped around Sylvia’s waist, listening to her classmates carry on, she’d watch the candles burn down. Sylvia had called her Lexi, whispered in her ear on night walks in the cold Cambridge air to their little apartment, gentle hands soothing her most anxious times. Alex hadn’t felt like that in years.

College weekends were spent at punk shows in basements, though she knows now nobody would believe it, young Alex Cabot (the nickname had been coined in those years, sharper edged than the elaborate Alexandra) knew how to have some fun, at least back then. She’d dyed her hair black and worn studs on her collar, had a reputation for being a player, and it seemed like the back of her right hand was constantly stained with marker residue. Sticky floors and lipgloss on her neck, so many firsts all at once.

Her evenings during her years in the DA’s office were usually full of work, except the odd night when she’d meet the detectives for a drink at their haunt or head out with the other ADAs to some upscale cocktail bar. Two different crowds with two different mentalities, the detectives were dedicated to a fault, while the prosecutors were insufferably full of themselves. The detectives would tire her out by 11:30, but she’d find an excuse to leave the ADA excursions before 9. Far more special were the many evenings spent in Olivia’s apartment drinking two beers each and filling the quiet air with soft laughter and conversation.

But a little library themed speakeasy? Not her typical place. Well. No time like the present to change one’s habits. She’d been recommended it by an old law school friend a couple weeks ago, bumped into him on a whim in a coffee shop, was surprised she wasn’t dead, had been there last night, said it was right up her alley. Its illicit vibe wasn’t exactly to ADA Cabot’s tastes, no. But it scratched something in Alex, that hadn’t been satisfied since those basement nights and cozy cafe afternoons. From the place’s shelves she’d pulled a book of Pre-Raphaelite poetry and sat in a comfy chair with a scotch and a San Pelligrino, pleased, at least, to be out of the apartment for the evening.

She didn’t need the money, but she’d been copyediting textbooks freelance, filling up her time with grammar and word choice. She’d been reading a lot of fiction. She adopted two extremely fluffy cats. It was a pleasant, if mundane, life. It turned out, Alex had realized, that there were plenty of eager and capable young attorneys who could do her former job as well as she ever had. She felt, finally, like she deserved a bit of a rest. Needed one, really. Someone would do the prosecuting. The thought of stepping back in the courtroom, looking at the bench, examining witnesses, made her feel sick to her stomach, though she had once loved that life. It wasn’t her anymore— maybe it never really had been. She decided this was her kind of place after all. This iteration of Alexandra Cabot would drink bubbly water in secluded speakeasies while reading poetry.

Alex didn’t expect to see anybody she knew, not somewhere you needed a password to get into, where the music was indie folk and old jazz from a vintage record player, the drinks had names like the “Lady Brett” and the “Daisy Buchanan,” and most of the patrons were dressed in flannel with their noses buried in old books. And yet, as she scanned the place, she caught someone she recognized. Sitting at the bar, bent over a notebook, was Casey Novak; her deep red hair tied back in a casual ponytail, a half-empty highball glass in front of her, chewing on the end of a click pen.

This was surprising. Alex, though she hadn’t ever known Casey well, before her first brief return to life as Alex Cabot, only as one of the white collar ADAs (they ran in a bit of a pack, didn’t shy away from imitating the lifestyles of those they prosecuted). After knowing her as a prosecutor, Alex would expect to see Casey in a sports bar watching a game, or in some chrome-gilded bar with high ceilings drinking designer cocktails and cheering on a verbal showdown between her colleagues. Or in the center of a showdown like that. Not alone, writing in a moleskine, wearing a red flannel over a simple black dress. Casey was striking, Alex realized, before she realized she’d been looking a little longer than was considered normal. She hoped she didn’t seem like a creep watching from afar. She considered getting up, saying hello, but felt that Casey may not even remember her, may not want to be disturbed as she wrote, may not even recognize her anymore. She’d changed her appearance when she’d gone back to being Alex Cabot, cut her hair in a short bob, dyed it dark brown, wore thick rimmed glasses and simple clothing, too painful to be the formal blonde she used to be. Barely the same woman who’s once-murderer Casey had put behind bars those years ago.

Alex didn’t have to consider talking to Casey, however, because almost as soon as she returned to her book, she heard the sound of rubber soled sneakers against the old hardwood floors and a voice beside her.

“Hey stranger,” she said.

“Hi Casey,” Alex said as she slid her bookmark into place and looked up at the familiar face with a smile. “Care to join me?”

2 .

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” Casey said as she sat down. “I’m allowed to, uh, talk to you right? Though I guess if I wasn’t you wouldn’t acknowledge me, which would be fine, by the way.” There was the Casey Alex remembered, her words getting ahead of her.

“It’s fine, I’m me again,” Alex said calmly, “It’s really good to see you, though I wouldn’t have imagined you to be the writing type, or the underground-library-bar type” Alex gestured to the leather notebook in Casey’s left hand.

“I’m full of surprises, Alexandra Cabot.” Casey said in a tone that suggested she was sarcastic, yet convinced Alex she was telling the truth. Alex sipped her water.

“What were you working on?” She asked, not wanting to pry, but very eager to catch up, to know why she was alone in a place like this.

“Oh, nothing, nothing interesting. Just some little bits and pieces.” Casey replied.

“Not argument notes on a Saturday night, I hope?” Alex asked, though she knew that she would’ve done the same thing back when she was in the DA’s office. Casey looked pale, uncomfortable for a moment. “I’m sorry,” Alex said, trying to soothe any pain she may have caused, though she couldn’t fathom why. “I don’t mean to bring up work when you’re trying to relax.” At this, Casey just looked confused.

“Alex, have you not heard?” Casey said, searching for signs of recognition in the woman’s eyes, but finding only further confusion continuing, her voice low, “I was censured a few months ago. I can’t practice law for at least three years.” Alex’s eyes opened wide and she set her glass down on the table between them. “I’m surprised the rumor hasn’t reached your circles yet, though I admit I’m glad I get to be the one to tell someone for a change.” Alex noticed Casey cross her arms together over her chest, closing herself up, making herself seem smaller.

It was quiet for a while, the sounds of Ella Fitzgerald on the speakers, quiet conversations, and pages turning filling it. “I’m sorry, no, I hadn’t heard. That’s too bad. Do you want to talk about it?” Casey grinned at the suggestion, oddly intimate for the two women who, while they hardly knew each other, had shared some of the most intense moments either of them had experienced in a courtroom.

“I think I’ve gone over it enough in my head, but uh, thank you.” Casey said, her voice wobbling on the thanks, “You know, you’re the first person so far to actually ask me that?”

“I’m sorry.” Was Alex’s reply. Surely Casey had people who were interested in her feelings?

“The circumstances were,” Casey trailed off as she looked for the right wording, “I was at fault, for sure. But I was just trying to do the right thing, and I made a mistake.”

“Nothing shocking, I hope?” Asked Alex, still trying to ascertain the nature of the censure, wondering about what the woman sitting across from her could’ve done.

“I violated due process, technically.” Casey replied, attempting to gauge Alex’s reaction, but seeing that it continued to be contemplative rather than condemning, continued, “I shouldn’t’ve, but I think all of us have done worse in our time. But I was not in Donnelly’s good graces, so…” instead of ending her sentence, Casey sipped the last of her drink and looked up at Alex nervously, hoping the woman wouldn’t judge her too harshly.

“Oh man, Casey. That’s really tough. I’m sorry.” Casey searched for any sign of disapprobation in Alex’s tone, but finding only genuine concern, relaxed.

“So I’ve been doing other stuff for a little while. Using my undergrad,” she said, truly sarcastic this time. “What about you Cabot? What’s keeping you from your old haunt? And what’s with the brunette look?”

Alex wanted to answer, but wasn’t going to let Casey get away completely with deflecting. “You didn’t answer my question, Novak. What’s in the notebook?”

Casey laughed. “You really are relentless.” Alex just raised an eyebrow smugly while sipping her drink, as if to say, go on. “It’s a poetry journal. I’ve kept one since college.”

This admission broke the unflappable Alex Cabot’s reserve and she couldn’t keep herself from a few giggles. “I apologize,” she said, “for laughing at you. Just, the idea of Casey Novak the poet would not have occurred to me.”

“Like I said,” Casey started, “I’m full of surprises. And nobody has laughed at me in a long time,” she continued, beginning to laugh herself. “Believe it or not, I have an English degree.”

“Ok, ok, stop. I’m not sure I can take many more shocks tonight,” teased Alex.

“And you, didn’t answer my question. What’s with the brunette? You look beautiful,” Casey said before realizing what she was saying, shutting herself up before she said anything embarrassing.

“I needed a change,” Alex said, “Something to distance myself from my old selves. I never dyed my hair before, or switched up my look at all really. Just, a change.”

“I get that.” Casey said, and Alex felt like she really did get it, somehow more than anybody else had to this point. She’d seen a few old colleagues and friends, and they all had looked at her with this mixture of fear and pity that made her wish she was invisible. But Casey seemed to say something deeper in just three words.

They talked together late into the night, about books and drinks (Casey had been a bartender in college, her knowledge on pairings was unparalleled) and everything but law. It was close to 2:00 am when Casey started to yawn.

“I’m really glad I ran into you, Alex,” she said as they left the bar, her voice scratchy from talking quietly, a subtle accent that Alex couldn’t quite place showing through under the influence of sleepiness and her light buzz. It was adorable, Alex found herself thinking.

“Me too, Casey,” Alex replied, and before she could turn to start walking towards her apartment, only a block or so away, she was met with a hug. It was brief, but Alex took in the scent of Casey’s coconut shampoo, sweet and pleasing.

“I wouldn’t have expected you to be much of a hugger either,” Alex said as she pulled away, brushing her hands on Casey’s elbows.

“I guess you have a lot to figure out,” she said, playfully, as Alex handed her into a cab.

As Alex walked up the stairs to her apartment (she could afford a bigger place, but this one, this one felt right), Alex replayed the evening and regretted not asking for Casey’s phone number before she left. When she pulled her keys out of her pocket to unlock the door, she found a piece of paper, with a number and a note:

text me, so I can learn some of your surprises.

3 .

Alex was awake.

The same old dreams kept her restless. It had been a bad night, she’d slept less than 3 hours before she woke, startled, as the sun just began to rise, 5 am on a Saturday in September.

Foggily, she attempted to reconstruct the details of her pieced together dreams, her therapist, Julia, had convinced her to keep a journal. She said the nightmares of being shot, of nobody recognizing her, those made perfect sense, classic PTSD symptoms. With what happened to her it would’ve been stranger to not suffer it. But these hadn’t been those dreams.

Clare Cartwright, age 15 stood in line at the coffee shop. Her face was pink with tears but nobody saw anything out of the ordinary except for Alex, watching her from a table. Clare’s cheeks were wet and covered in running mascara but the barista didn’t bat an eye as she ordered an iced chai and sat down alone with her laptop. Tears turned to sobs turned to screams, thrashing, but she just kept typing, sipping her tea, nobody did a damn thing. Alex tried to rise from her seat, go to the girl, hold her and scratch her back while she cried, but the heavy weight of her own body kept her seated, powerless to do anything. She tried to yell across the room, tell her that it was going to be ok, she was going to put whoever hurt her behind bars, protect her from them forever. But when she opened her mouth all breath was sucked out of her lungs, she collapsed. Clare’s cries echoed ceaselessly.

Trevor Hamilton, a 20 something pro, had been turning tricks all night but one guy had taken it a little too far. He was sure his neck, hips would be covered in nasty bruises the next day. Oh well. Nobody believed a pro who cried rape. He stuffed his cash in his briefs and made his way towards the van he slept in with three other guys but before he could get there, he fell, body bloody. Nobody heard a sound but Trevor must have been shot. His blood was cold as it poured out of him onto the sidewalk but he stood up. He wasn’t dead. In the morgue, Melinda Warner ruled the cause of death a fatal gunshot wound to his back, probably a stray bullet, but he’d had sex the night he died, maybe an angry John. Alex told everyone that he wasn’t dead. Trevor whispered in her ear, asked her how could she let them say he was dead, how could she let them get away with saying such a thing like that, how could she let them call what had happened to him sex. Alex repeated herself over and over but all she got in return from the detectives were sympathetic looks of confusion as they sent her home for the day. She must’ve been too tired, Alex heard Olivia tell Elliot, maybe her mind was acting up again, sleep deprivation can kickstart psychosis. Someone would check in on her that night, make sure she wasn’t relapsing. Alex knew she wasn’t hallucinating, because Trevor had spoken to her in the clearest voice she’d heard in months. Alex wept for Trevor the whole way home and then some but nobody seemed to notice.

Annabelle Lamm wore a fuzzy pink nightgown when her grandmother brought her into the precinct one snowy night. Olivia called Alex to come to the precinct, they needed a warrant for the apartment, they found fluids in the girl’s hair of all places, grandma handed them an envelope full of pictures of Annie that nobody in the family admitted to taking. It was a no brainer warrant, Alex didn’t even mind waking up a judge for it if it meant getting whoever had been hurting this little girl as soon as possible. When Alex arrived to the building, Olivia wasn’t there and all the lights were off. Alex clicked on a lamp, wondered if Liv had found another ADA and rushed off without telling her anything. But the room was unfamiliar, empty, concrete. In the center of the room standing perfectly still was a 5 year old girl in a pink fuzzy nightgown. Alex ran to her but couldn’t get any closer. The little girl had a hollow expression and didn’t move an inch. Alex kept running and running but her feet stayed in the same spot, powerless.

Yeah. Powerless. As she awoke she felt like she was still running, head still spinning, still heard screams.

She wrote it all down in her journal. Julia had said that it was unusual for people whose jobs involved consistently levels of high stress and disturbance to have the severity of symptoms she had; that there was usually a tolerance that was built up to being horrified. Alex had either never had that tolerance or it had been washed away during the years she’d spent in WITSEC because her very brief return to the practice of law had nearly broken her.

“Sleep deprivation can kickstart psychosis,” Olivia had told her once when they first worked together, ostensibly referring to a case of statutory rape where the perp didn’t recall a single piece of the event; but Alex knew the comment was pointed at her, not the perp. Olivia could tell that Alex’s patience was growing thin, her mind unfocused; she must’ve deduced that Alex wasn’t sleeping much. But Alex already knew the warning signs.

Alexandra Cabot, age 16, sat shaking in a hospital room. It was almost finals week, she’d pulled a few all nighters, it was nothing serious, she’d told her school counselor a week prior when her friends had noticed her speech patterns growing muddled. She stayed up another 24 hours and the last thing she remembered was her roommates grabbing her wrists and pulling her inside off the balcony. After that, the school had installed locks on all the windows. Alexandra was freezing in her hospital gown, brain numbed out from the IV antipsychotics she was attached to. A few days in the hospital to take care of her injuries (she was informed that she had thrown herself against the wall while school officials took her to the ER), then a summer of residential treatment, hopefully she would be able to return to boarding school in the fall. Her father looked at her with a shattered expression, her mother treated her with cold indifference, her friends didn’t talk to her. Major depression with psychotic features.

Alex knew the consequences of not sleeping enough. She considered taking her cup of mint tea and heading back to bed, cuddling up to her cats, reading a book maybe, just trying to screw her head on right. Her body fought her though, nervous energy ran through her veins, so she elected to have a walk instead. Besides, it had been years since she’d had any serious episode. Anxiety, sure, and the occasional month or so of depression, a few close calls, but regular therapy and medication kept her more or less in the clear since college. Her family, her therapists, had suggested she go into a different kind of law, something stimulating but less distressing like, intellectual property, but she had refused, felt called to prosecuting. But her experience was what made her a great prosecutor, and it was why she had been so adamant about the proper handling of cases involving those suffering from mental illness, especially victims, but perps as well. She knew how it felt, more than she admitted to almost anybody, but she also knew there were paths through it.

The same old nightmares, but Alex was a different person. The old Alex would’ve thrown herself even harder into work than usual, won her cases even more viciously, assuaged her feelings of powerlessness by asserting control. This Alex knew that complete control was unattainable.

The September air was cold this early in the morning, but bracing. The contrast between her thermos full of hot tea pleased her, she pretended she was a dragon as she breathed steam. She smiled to herself at the thought and at the bright orange sun rising through the treetops in the park by her apartment. This had been the right choice, sunrises were her favorite magic. Content covered her like a well fitting dress, shaking off the nerves slowly. The most dedicated joggers and newsstand operators were the only other people out this early, the quietest time in the city. Alex’s phone buzzed.

Casey: Nice coat, Cabot.

Alex looked up from her phone, confused. What? Maybe it was delivered late. She’d seen Casey two days ago for coffee— they’d developed a friendship. Texts, coffee, nothing too deep; but then it had only been a couple weeks since they’d run into each other at the library bar. Alex liked Casey. She was funny and a good listener, and she always had something to say. She didn’t walk on eggshells around Alex either, making Casey unique among her friends. She’d tried to meet up with Liv right when she’d gotten back to the city the second time, but the way she looked at her cut way too deep, like she was a hero, like she was a victim. Both of those she may well be, but she needed to be treated as a friend. Casey did that for her, down to playfully teasing her over her eccentric habits. Another text:

Casey: Turn around, Clueless.

Not many people had ever called Alexandra Cabot clueless. Alex turned around, and Casey waved at her excitedly from the jogging path and without waiting for Alex’s reaction began to run up to where she was sitting. Alex was surprised to see her, happily so. She knew Casey was athletic, but didn’t take her to be the 5:30 running type. She wore tight leggings and a running jacket, and the biggest smile Alex had seen from her. She looked beautiful in the soft early light, Alex thought, then immediately blushed at that thought.

She’d never been one to shy away from her sexuality, especially when she realized the destructive role repression had played in her life before she came out. Alex had been out since college, but she tried very hard not to crush on straight women. She knew she couldn’t control who she was attracted to, but it always made her feel a bit dejected, so. Nip that in the bud.

Alex didn’t have much time to consider the ethics of her thoughts, because Casey was right in front of her, grabbing her hands.

“It’s so good to see you! A second surprise encounter, must be fate, Cabot,” Casey said in a quiet voice, a wink in her words.

“Something like that,” Alex replied, “What are you doing out so early?”

“I could ask the same of you; I’m just finishing up my run. You are wearing a fancy coat and looking deep in thought, in fact, you are being far more suspicious than I am, look at how many people are out here jogging, I mean,”

“Oh my god,” Alex cut her off with an eye roll, “Ok, stop cross-examining me.”

Casey gave Alex a genuine laugh, “Old habits die hard.” She paused for a second. “You look pale, did you sleep?”

“Thanks, Casey.” Alex gave her a playful glare. “If three nightmares in three hours counts, then yes, I slept.”

“Oh you poor thing. I’d hug you but,” She gestured to her sweaty figure. “You wanna get breakfast? I’ll pop back to my apartment, shower, and meet you at yours in say, half an hour?”

Alex started slightly at the familiarity, but responded, “Yeah, sure, sounds fun. Uh, here I’ll text you my address.”

Did Casey blush? Alex couldn’t be sure due to her post-run glow and the chill in the air. “Sorry if that’s too familiar, I know we usually plan these things out, and I guess I just assumed you didn’t have plans, it’s totally fine if you don’t want to, you know, runner’s high and all,” but Alex cut her off again with a raise of her eyebrows.

“Are you retracting the offer, Novak?” Alex couldn’t resist the urge to tease the woman in front of her. “Because if I recall correctly, I said yes.”

Casey grew more flustered, replied with a quick, “Nope, still happening, see you in half an hour,” and took off running, leaving Alex behind as she laughed in disbelief.

[stillness-in-green]

If it's any consolation, I'm sure that the Advisors and the rest of the MLA (Re-Destro, Trumpet, Geten) will show back up sooner than the final arc, just because we're going into Year 2 and the students would find great 1 on 1 or team opponents with the Advisors. Re-Destro and Geten are heavy hitters (and Geten could be tied to Dabi, Shoto and all that somehow) and they were locked up with Mr. Compress and Machia, but who do you want to see first from the Advisors?

Thanks, anon; I certainly do hope we'll get to see more of them.  Admittedly, my main concern is that I so liked what was going on with the Paranormal Liberation Front that even if we do see all of the MLA types again, if it's only in the context of speedbump battles for the students, that's still going to be a letdown.  Better than nothing, to be sure, but I really do want them to join back up with the League, even a League that's confused and out of sorts under All For One's hand.  I love RD's big spiritual-awakening-flavored crush on Shigaraki, the cross-organization tensions and relationships, just as much as I love the depth the MLA brings to the world outside of just what's going on with the heroes.

I'm fairly frustrated with how the MLA fared during and after the raid, largely because it's awfully hard not to conclude that, if what we have right now is all the erstwhile-MLA are ever going to come to, Shigaraki would have been significantly better off if he'd just killed them all and shacked up with Ujiko for four months.  And that would be such a waste!  The end of My Villain Academia was such an enormous triumph for Shigaraki! I want his victory to amount to something more than what we've seen, something that shows that both his strength and his mercy will pay off for him in the long-term, will be a concrete benefit to him rather than, with the benefit of hindsight, the reason everything went so wrong.

Particularly with Re-Destro, since Horikoshi saw fit to have Dark Shadow all but one-shot the man, and Edgeshot defeat him off-panel, it's really not going to mean much to me for him to have a big fight with students unconnected to anything else.  The drama's rather gone out of it at this point.  That's particularly the case since, if he's no longer connected to Shigaraki's plot, it's that much easier for him to just be off-paneled and forgotten about.  But, if Rikiya gets looped back in with the League, if his gratitude and admiration of Shigaraki mean he still has a role to play in Shigaraki's arc, that makes it much easier to get invested in any fights that role will lead him to. Ditto the MLA more broadly; it's categorically ridiculous to present that organization with the kinds of numbers, breadth of influence and legitimate grievances they have, only to try to sweep them back under the rug exactly like Shigaraki accuses heroes of doing with everyone they can't save. 

To say the least, I'm pretty invested.  But I appreciate your consolations and am trying to hold out hope that we'll get some good stuff with them yet!

My anxieties aside, and to hit the other portion of your ask--who would I like to see first among the Advisors?--hit the jump:

(All nicknames and shorthand are taken from this post.) 

Well, it'd be nice if they could all get at least as much to do as the Eight Bullets back during the Hassaikai arc, seeing as they got a similar splash page spread introducing all their faces.  There are considerably more than eight of them, of course, but even if they never get more attention than e.g. Galvanize or the hose-faced guy who iced Midnight did, at least then we'd have some idea of their power sets and at least one angle on their personality.

Assuming we aren’t going to get full breakdowns on every single one of them, there are still four things I'd really like to see happen with the MLA/the Advisors: the student fights we're expecting, the jailbreaks we're being told about, the reunion with the League I'm praying for, and for literally anyone in the in-world media to try and get their side of the story.

Student Fights: Seeing the guy who killed Midnight again is as sure a bet as any of these get.  Momo is an important enough character, with enough sustained arc, that she will have to get something else to do before the series is over.  Taking command of a group battle against real opponents--ones with more responsiveness and agency than Gigantomachia--would be in-line with what she's been moving towards so far.  I would, however, love it if that fight would be more challenging than a straightforward battle of tactics.

I headcanon Hose Face and Scarecrow as, respectively, an ex-con and a dude with physical disabilities--both people who have ample reason to want to change the series' status quo irt human rights abuses in prison and overly restrictive quirk use laws.  I'm not expecting the canon to validate me on what amount to wild guesses, of course, but I want those Advisors in particular to have motivations more nuanced than, "They're quirk supremacists; who cares why they're willing to put their lives on the line over this?"

A feel-good revenge match in which a bunch of teenagers lay the smack down on characters whose humanity the audience is asked neither to know nor care about would be lazy, and counterproductive to the series' current thematic concerns. Give Momo her victory, by all means, but don't give it to her easy.  A confrontation like this would be a good way for the less central Class A students to begin wrestling with the question of who, exactly, heroes "save" and what it is that people need to be saved from, exactly the way Deku and Uraraka and Shouto are now wrestling with these questions.

As far as other fights go, I'd also love to see Brand and The Question pop up again. They're probably the two I'm most curious about purely in terms of what their quirks are.  Why does The Question wear a mask, and what's he like that he wound up in Mr. Compress's chain of command?  And with Brand, what kind of quirk does he have that's powerful enough to land him a ranked position in the Guerilla Warfare Regiment but indirect enough that he fights with a sword?

Prison Breaks: I wouldn't expect this to be particularly involved, probably more of an aside than anything, but I want the Bindi Ladies to spring Hole Punch Face, thus getting us an angle on what's going on with that particular trio.  Aviator Teeth can come too because I want at least some hints about what his deal is.

I'd also love to watch Horikoshi even attempt to retroactively justify some of the logistics of the single-day capture and subsequent detention of 17,000 super-powered, combat-trained people.*  I mean, I don't think there are any feasible explanations for that, but I'd be curious to see what he'd come up with, especially if every possible answer just makes Hero Society look worse! We have only ever seen Tartarus as an example of the prison conditions in this country; I'd love to hear more, and an MLA-focused jailbreak would be a great way to show it.

PLF Reunion: Of course, my number one thing to see with a reunion is Re-Destro being just as dismayed as Spinner is over Tomura's possession.  I crave more serious attention being paid to Rikiya's profound awe over Shigaraki's freedom, and would love to see his reaction to Shigaraki apparently losing that freedom.

Aside from the obvious, though, if the PLF does start piecing itself back together, I expect to see Sanctum again, given the attention he's gotten so far, and the fact that he's now the highest-ranked member of the Tactics Regiment.  It'd be great to get some explanation for how he can possibly be "the longest-serving member of the Liberation Army," given that the Army was generations old already when Re-Destro was just a child.  (If we do get that information, I imagine my own explanation will be jossed hugely, so I would also be happy to take time with Sanctum that doesn't explain the discrepancy but also doesn't invalidate my headcanon.)  

In the context of the regiments reforming, I'd also like to see Nimble and Aster, both because this manga needs more women, and because I'd like to see more of how Spinner and Toga interact with the people they were nominally commanding.

Media Attention: Trumpet's my number one hope here--the lack of any look into the state of the government in HeroAca Japan has been a total let-down since his introduction**, but I was particularly annoyed that the last time we saw him he was smiling (albeit in a fairly haggard way), giving me hope that we might next see him doing his part to portray all of this in a light that would sway public opinion.  And then literally one chapter later, we get prison guards talking about how the Hearts & Minds Party, a perfectly legitimized political party with representation on the national level, has been perfunctorily dissolved less than twelve hours from when the raid started.  How is there even an argument that the system heroes were upholding desperately needs to change?

I'm very tired of the media in BNHA only ever showing up to beg for/demand that heroes tell them what’s going on, particularly those damn press conferences. Journalists do investigative work! Newspapers employ reporters to actively seek out news!  Reporters in free countries don't just sit around waiting for the government or heads of major industries to graciously hand them press releases!  For heaven's sake, Trumpet was the head of a major political party.  People should be foaming at the mouth trying to get a statement from him!  

Especially with public trust in heroes breaking down, there should absolutely be intrepid reporters out there looking to get to the bottom of any of the layered conspiracies the public's just been hit with and told to just write-off as a bump in the road on the return to normalcy.

Anyway, Trumpet's the obvious choice, but if I could be sure the manga would validate my headcanons about Nimble and Scarecrow's disabilities, I'd be happy to put them in this position, too.  Trucker Toad would be another good candidate, if there's any basis to my idea that he is or used to be a transport driver who's seen a lot of the country outside the areas e.g. the Top Ten Heroes are patrolling.  He's obviously a good candidate for getting back to that idea of anti-heteromorph bias, too.  But really, I'd take anyone who can give a cogent explanation of the MLA's position on self-determination and the various ways Hero Society has exacerbated quirk-based discrimination.

Anyway, that's about where my thoughts are on where I hope the MLA people are and what we might see of them.  Thanks for the ask!

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

*Or as many as 100,000 more than that, depending on how through the statement, "Their bases around the country were also attacked, and their supporters rounded up," was meant to be.  An influx of 116K people, incidentally, would triple Japan's current carceral population.

**Why! Why would you introduce a politician and then never even glance at your setting's political situation??

[scribbuluswrites]

Should Have

So.. this idea has been swirling around for a few months, and I finally decided to write it out. This is sort of a companion to the Faking It series, and takes place in the same timeline.

Thanks for reading!

The noises in the house died down, everything going totally silent. Happy couldn’t tell if it had actually gotten quiet, or if he had just lost his hearing. He couldn’t seem to open his eyes to look. 

It didn’t matter anyway. The ground was comfortable enough, and he was exhausted. As long as no one tripped over him, things weren’t too bad down here. 

Wait.

Something in Happy’s self conscious told him he was wrong. Told him things really were bad. He needed to get up; he needed to get the hell out of here. His body wouldn’t cooperate though. He just kept lying there. 

Slowly, things started to filter back in. He remembered the pain in his abdomen and shoulder as multiple bullets tore through his skin. Before that, he could clearly see the house, looking in from the outside as he crouched in the bushes with the Mayans. 

Happy’s memories were almost playing in reverse. He was mentally walking backwards, retracing his steps, as he watched himself move forward, rush headlong into yet another fight. This one wasn’t even his. 

As he continued his inverse trajectory, he caught sight of a face that made him feel something real. Someone who hurt more than any physical wound. Katarina. 

Before he had gotten on his bike and ridden away, left her behind, Kat had tried to stop him. There was something she wanted to say, and he knew it. He just couldn’t take any reply besides the one he knew she would never say back. 

Happy let his mind continue to wander. Something about his current predicament felt like the perfect time to think about all of those things he didn’t dare. Now was the best time to indulge the ‘what-ifs’.

~

Happy kept a close watch over his shoulder as he crossed the lot outside of Katarina’s building. He was confident he hadn’t been followed, but he wasn’t sure who else might know her address. Satisfied that he was completely alone, he snuck into the complex.

He kept his hood pulled up, making sure his face was obscured. There was a camera in the lobby, but he knew exactly where it was pointed. His shoulders were slightly hunched as he approached her door, knowing it didn’t make him look any less conspicuous. It was just a natural reflex when he didn’t want to be seen. 

There was angry grumbling behind the door, but it opened regardless. Kat looked annoyed, but he pushed past her. He locked the door behind him, moving quickly to check the windows. Happy felt grateful that Kat seemed to remember enough to let him look everything over before speaking. 

As she reached for the light, he grabbed her hand, pulling her along the hallway. There was a blackout curtain in her room so he let her finally turn the lights on. Hopefully no one would be able to tell people were awake and moving around in the apartment. 

Happy had been prepared for the look of horror on her face as he pushed his hood back. He hadn’t looked at the damage, but he knew there would be definite signs of the fight he’d been in earlier. He didn’t want to involve her, but he knew she would figure it out eventually. If he didn’t tell her, either someone else would, or she would wind up hurt again.

“What happened?” The expression on Katarina’s face clearly said she wouldn’t accept silence from him. “Now,” she said flatly, crossing her arms over her chest. Happy did his best to take a deep breath, ignoring the pain from his likely cracked ribs. He sat on the edge of her bed, ignoring the thoughts of anyone else being in here with her. 

In the fewest words he could manage, Happy told her what had been happening. She didn’t look entirely surprised. If anything, she looked a little bit angry, like she knew exactly where the prospect was poking around for his information. 

“He knows exactly who to ask,” she murmured, eyes unfocused for a moment as she looked through him rather than at him. Happy wanted to ask questions, but it wouldn’t really matter. He knew the only real solution to this issue. 

Happy had expected Kat to be resistant. It was a normal reaction to hearing your former friend was on the Killer’s hitlist. What he hadn’t expected was letting her push him back down onto the bed. 

She leaned in closely, cleaning up some of the cuts. Kat pressed a bandage strip to his cheek, her fingertips cool as she smoothed it down. Happy tipped his jaw up, letting his nose bump into hers. He wasn’t the romantic type usually, but it really felt like the perfect moment for a little tension. 

Happy vaguely remembered Katarina putting a stop to things before anything happened. He had let her push him away, accepting that someone had taken his place. This time, though, he was braver, bolder. 

“Kat,” he said quietly, tracing his fingers over her cheek. “Pick me.” Katarina didn’t smile. Her features were frozen in place, a look of unhappy surprise in her eyes. 

“It’s too late, Happy.” 

~

The room started to spin, slowly fading out of view. Happy wandered around in the blackness. As he moved deeper into the void, he caught sight of various doorways. One of these had to take him back to the right moment. The second where he could change what happened. 

He approached an opening, seeing the inside of the Mayans’ clubhouse. This was the night he had let her hold him at arm’s length. Maybe he hadn’t made things clear enough. 

~

The thick smoke in the clubhouse partially obscured Happy’s vision. He had to be imagining things; there was no way Katarina was actually standing right in front of him. The look of shock on her face was very realistic, but Happy had every tiny detail of her face memorized. It would be easy enough to imagine it. 

Whoever she was, she was pretty and reminded him of the girl he’d pushed away. The perfect target for a night of complete ignorance. At the least, she would let him pretend. 

He stepped forward, confidence failing. This woman really was Katarina. There was no mistaking it now when she was three feet away, and Happy could easily count the freckles on her nose. 

Happy was thoroughly disarmed as Kat reached up, running her fingers over the patches on his kutte. All he wanted was to tell her how much he missed her, how much he knew now. She was right all along, and Happy was ready to admit that he needed someone else. 

Instead, he heard himself mumbling something about a place to belong not being so bad. It wasn’t enough, and he knew it. The rest of his words wouldn’t come out, though. 

He pulled her hand away from his chest, knowing he couldn’t take it any longer. Her fingers were cold, but the sensation of her skin against his felt more like fire. Against his better judgement, he traced over her fingers, remembering each little scar and how it had gotten there. At least there weren’t many more. 

The second her attention was diverted, Happy slipped away. He was grateful for a quick exit, assuming Katarina wouldn’t have wanted some big declaration from him in front of a club full of strangers. She had wanted to be secretive, too, hadn’t she?

Happy shook his head, trying to clear out those thoughts. It was safer to assume he’d made the decision for her, and she’d been alright with it. Kat had always been willing to tell him when he’d overstepped too far. 

He sat down at the large table in the corner, letting his brothers sit with him. They were being treated like royalty tonight, and he wouldn’t oppose any of it. A hang-around tried to drape herself across his lap, but Happy pushed her away, not at all in the mood. His eyes had caught Katarina sharing a very intimate moment with one of the Mayans. Now, he was angry. 

Happy had actually liked Coco the first time they met. They shared a similar mindset, and it gave Happy a bit of comfort to deal with at least one other biker who thought about politics the same way he did. Watching him hold onto Kat now made Happy’s fingers itch to pull out his Glock. 

Coco approached the table, pulling Kat along behind him. He had the audacity to hold her hand in front of Happy. It took several beats before Happy could remind himself that no one knew, and Coco wasn’t technically doing anything wrong. 

No one else here seemed to know Katarina except for the prospect. The president hadn’t embraced her. If anything, he looked wary of her. Kat was brand new to them. 

“This your old lady?” Happy asked gruffly. He told himself it was because bringing a random girl to the head table was wrong, but really, he knew it was about proving a point to Katarina. It was about showing her where she really stood in this world. 

Anyone else would have missed it, but Happy caught the flash of irritation in her eyes. Kat didn’t exactly look surprised by Coco’s dismissal of her, but she definitely looked caught off guard as she stood in front of Happy. He could see the flush at the back of her neck, but rather than snapping, she gave everyone a friendly smile, excusing herself from the group. 

Happy hung around the clubhouse until the small morning hours. He knew it would look strange for him to leave early. The Sons weren’t from here, so it wouldn’t make sense for him to abandon his brothers and the comfort of the club. By 1 a.m., everyone was drunk, passed out, or well occupied.

It took him about an hour to find Katarina’s building. He had known what she liked in a temporary home, so it only took three attempts before he found the correct one. Being able to find her so quickly gave him a little hope that he still knew her. 

Kat greeted him at the door with a pissed off look and a Sig in her left hand. Showing up here was an invasion, and Happy waited until he was pretty certain she wasn’t going to shoot him. He had planned to invite himself in, but luckily a loud group of people came clumping up the stairs, prompting Kat to pull him into the apartment.

Happy looked around just a little bit, not wanting to snoop. This apartment felt all wrong. There wasn’t a single thing in here that reminded him of Katarina. It was very temporary. He wasn’t sure if that was a positive thing or not. 

“God, I missed you,” he rasped, chuckling at the angry expression in her eyes. From her posture as she sat across from him on the little plaid couch, Happy could tell she was ready to crack. She would just need a little bit of time and patience to soften up. 

“Hap, why ask that right off the bat?” she asked, keeping her feet firmly on his thigh. He’d been pushed away once already, and he wasn’t going to let it happen again. She gave him a small kick when he didn’t answer. Happy grabbed her foot, running his fingers firmly over the arch of her foot. 

“Jealousy.” Happy kept massaging her foot, sensing her entire body starting to relax. In this moment, he remembered telling her he wouldn’t repeat the things he’d said before. It had silenced her complaints and pushed her into his arms. That had just been for one night, though. 

Happy reached for her other foot, tracing his pointer finger over the scar on her ankle. He let his hand continue up her calf, wrapping his hand around her leg and pulling her into his lap. She sat with her knees on either side of him, looking down at him with a guarded expression. 

“I feel the same way I did, Katarina. I love you,” he mumbled, hoping she could hear him. Happy had wanted to say these things, but he couldn’t seem to get them to come out any louder. 

Kat looked stunned. Whatever she had expected, that had not been it. She slid her hands over his shoulders, wrapping her arms around his neck. Kat dipped her head, kissing him deeply. She tasted like bourbon, and Happy’s hands tightened on her hips. 

He leaned forward, sliding his hands under her ass. Happy managed to stand up from the couch, holding her tightly to him. Kat wrapped her legs around his waist, barely letting her lips leave his long enough to let him see down the hallway to her room. 

The next morning, Happy rolled over, feeling more ready to wake up than he had in years. It was the first morning since Kat left that he wasn’t afraid to open his eyes. When he did, he was met with an empty bed. 

Happy’s stomach churned as he sat up, realising Katarina was nowhere to be seen. This was definitely her room, but he knew something still hadn’t gone right. 

He pulled on his boxers and wandered out to the kitchen. The apartment was empty. There was a note stuck to the back of the front door. 

‘It’s just too little, too late.’

~

Happy stumbled over his feet, feeling like he had been forcefully shoved out of the doorway and back into the darkness. He cursed under his breath, realising he hadn’t gone far enough back in their timeline. He was beginning to wonder if there even was a point far enough back to fix it. 

He marched through the emptiness, frustrated and desperate to find the right place. Happy paused in a few more openings, knowing there was a wild look in his eyes. He studied the scenes for a few minutes, growling each time he was still too late. 

Each wrong window brought a fresh wave of anger. There had to be a place to correct things. He had to get a chance at happiness. After everything he’d gone through, and all of the shit he had slogged through for his brothers, he deserved this. He had earned this, dammit. 

Happy took off at a run, passing doorway after doorway. Each one was too late, showing he and Kat fighting or depicting a time when he had actively tried to push her away from him. 

Finally, he found one that looked like his best chance. It was good timing, too, since he felt like his legs were going to give out at any moment. His breathing was getting more and more difficult, a rattling starting deep in his chest. 

~

Happy slammed open the door of his house in Charming. He’d asked Kat to take it easy for a few more days, wanting her to give the stitches plenty of time to heal. That was a very difficult thing for her, though, and he’d already caught her sneaking out when she assumed he was gone to work. 

He hated watching over her like this, but he had to know what she was up to. Something was still bothering Kat despite her repeated attempts to convince him nothing was wrong. She was clearly trying to investigate whatever had happened to get her shot at. That was dangerous. 

Happy stormed through the house, gathering a few things as he went back to the bedroom. He grabbed his rucksack out of the closet, shoving the items in. Kat poked her head in the doorway, clearly confused about what was going on. 

“Are you going somewhere?” she asked, watching as he cleaned out most of his clothing from the dresser. “Happy, what’s going on?” 

He paused what he was doing, reminding himself why he was leaving. He had to keep Katarina safe above all else. This was going to hurt, but it had to be done. It was the only way to keep her alive. 

“You don’t belong here,” he snapped. Kat looked a little surprised, but she moved to the open drawer, pulling out his shirts. She held them tightly against her chest, clearly prepared to demand more answers. “This, us, it’s done.” 

“So just like that you’re going to call it quits?” she nearly shouted, her eyes blazing with anger. Happy felt his mouth drop open, if he hadn’t been so thoroughly shocked he would have laughed at the absurdity. 

“Just like that? You got shot!” he snapped, his voice louder than Katarina had ever heard it. She took a half step back, not prepared for this. Anger she had seen before, but he’d never yelled at her. 

“It- it was just a graze,” she stuttered, clenching her jaw to keep from shrinking back any further. She twisted away when Happy reached out. He assumed she was holding the shirts out of his grasp, but he wasn’t sure any more. The last time he had seen an expression anywhere near the one currently on her face was when he’d shown up after her apartment had been burglarized. 

Happy prepared for his next words, already knowing exactly how to break her heart. She would hate him forever if he told her she didn’t belong in his world, if he made her feel inadequate. He could tell her that she didn’t mean anything to him. He could make her believe it. 

He opened his mouth, prepared to tell her he didn’t care enough to know her. He wanted to remind her that he never paid any attention to the people he’d fucked, and she was no different to any of them. “It could have been so much worse,” he said instead, feeling all of his anger replaced by fear. “You could have…” he broke off, his voice wavering just the slightest bit. 

None of this had gone to plan. He hadn’t pushed her away. He hadn’t been able to make Katarina hate him. Letting her stay was the opposite of keeping her safe. 

“Happy,” she murmured, dropping his shirts. He reached for her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Happy buried his face against her neck, breathing in the soft vanilla scent of her shampoo. 

“You have to let me protect you,” he rasped, his words muffled against her skin. Katarina had never seen him like this. “I will take care of this, I promise. Just stop looking for answers.” 

“I have to know who took a shot at me,” she replied, letting him cling to her. 

“If I tell you, that’s the end of it.” Kat sucked in a breath, unprepared for him to offer any answers. Happy had never let her into the other side of his life before. 

“I won’t ask any more questions,” she promised, not daring to move as he stepped back. Whatever was happening, she was terrified to break the moment. Happy reached for her hands, putting them on his cheeks. 

“This is up to you. Are you sure you want in?” he asked, watching as she bit her lip, nodding up at him. “It’s forever. There’s no going back after this.” 

“I know,” she confirmed, taking a deep breath. “I want forever with you, Happy.” 

Happy closed his eyes, the peaceful feeling consuming him at her words. This was how everything was supposed to go. He was supposed to get forever with her. He let out the breath he had been holding. As he relaxed, everything started to dim.

His mind started moving forwards once more, gently passing through what his life should have been. There were no more text messages from blocked numbers. No more searching for any sign of Katarina and where she was or had been. 

Happy never had to wonder about if she was happy or safe. There was no more Santo Padre, and no more Sgt at Arms. He kept his head down and let club events play out, going home every single night he could. 

This time, when Jax died, Happy took his chance to move away from the club. He patched back into the Nomads and left Charming for good. They moved back to Tacoma, and neither one of them ever thought about California again. 

Katarina grinned at him, sunlight filtering through the curtains as morning broke. Happy reached out for her face, his fingers feeling numb. His hand never connected with her skin, and Kat started to look as though she was fading away. 

Happy tried his best to hold on to this picture of her. He opened his mouth to tell her just once more, but nothing came out. His breathing slowed, and the bit of pain he had still felt in his chest dimmed. Cold crept over him, and the darkness overtook. 

[spacemilkies]

gateau→  ; part i of iii

pairing: cal kestis x reader

word count: 2.5k+

summary: “So you had a Jedi as a roommate … that wont be a problem in the future or anything.”

a/n:  a bunch of new things to get me writing. all written at some ungoldly hour. this will probably be a three part series. something short and simple, based off the prologue with some background. hey, no song fic for once. i spent all day in this fandom. i feel ready. put me in coach.

                                                                    _______

“C’mon just this once, please.”

“Oh ho, no no. This is definitely not the first time.”

There was never a good reason for your roommate to visit you on the job. Not only were you stationed on opposite side of the station, you differing positions also lessened the opportunity for you to meet up without explicit reason. 

He was a rigger and you were a builder, simple as that. 

You refrained from lifting your mask, maintaining a sense of distance from the conversation as you continued to weld the two pieces of metal together. Maybe if you did your job hard enough he would eventually give up out of respect of your workload….

Who were you kidding.

A fiery shock of red hair crouched down next to you, apparently uncaring for the wayward sparks emitting from your torch. It was only when he dared to lean closer that you reluctantly cut the power out of concern for basic occupational safety. 

Flipping the hood of your mask, you gave him your sharpest glare to which he combatted easily with a killer smile. If only it was as effective on his conquests as he seemed to think the same applies to you. 

“You’re all just going to melt it down any.”

Any metals and ores that made it up here were better than the average scraps found in the lower sectors and certainly worth a pretty sum of credits. It was your roommate's favorite way to exploit your job and threaten your only means of survival in the same breath. 

 Darting your gaze around, you found that for once your colleges were rather forgiving of personal space. Though it didn’t mean that your supervisors wouldn’t have watchful eyes on your every move. Hence why these daring favors tended to have more impact than meaningless valve. 

You weren’t agreeing. Definitely were not going to get drawn into to those pleading baby blues. You were just curious. 

“And what exactly do two upstanding individuals as yourselves need with my fine metals?”

Cal’s smirk was shallow but no where lacking in its killer properties,” I’d bend your fine metals anyway.”

With a huff, you nudged him away with your shoulder. Practice allowing you to ignore the faint flush it brought to your cheeks. 

“You’re wasting time, Cal.”

“Just something nice. I’ll pay you back.”

You were not going to fall for it Totally, explicitly would not lose resolve on your promise to not give in like last time. You were strong and resilient and Cal was a big boy with his own means of survival and-

“I swear to all above, Cal if you-”

The force of his lips against your cheek nearly knocked you over and you were left momentarily stunned as nimble fingers searched knowingly against your body. Before you knew it, he was drawing away, your access card in hand. 

You should be happy with how quickly he scrambled to his feet, prepared for a hasty departure. It wouldn’t be long before your superiors began making their rounds and the last thing they wanted to see was a scrapper hunting around their stores. 

Gesturing with two fingers against his temple, Cal waved off before he disappeared around the corner. 

“Why are you not working? Your pay is based on your progress, not your time.”

Swallowing down a retort, you merely smiled shallowly in response to the haughty order as you tugged back down your face mask, Cal’s phantom touch still lingering against your form.

“Of course, sir.”

                                                                    _______

It should be said that Cal wasn’t a terrible roommate. In fact, when he first responded to your advertisement you had a feeling that he would actually be a helpful one.

That was a lie.

You knew that he would be a cute one. Someone that you would have to try /really hard to keep your hands off of. Fortunately for you, at the beginning he felt more like a brother than a bachelor. His boyish habits cutting into some of his charm.

It didn’t take much longer than that before the two of you fell into a rhythm of sorts. 

Having another human around was kind of nice too. 

Not to say you preached xenophobia. Some of your closer friends on this desolate planet were part of varying species. But in a way it aided in building a familiar quality of home even as you reside on the opposite side of the galaxy. 

Cal was moderately fair roommate. He wasn’t spotty with rent and you split the amenities, as scarce as they were, fairly. He was a little messy but not in the obnoxious unhygienic way. 

Everything was balanced. 

And you couldn’t really complain. 

He was a great guy. His humor and antics proving to raise your mood after a long day. Just the way he spoke about his own day bringing tears to your eyes and curling your stomach with laughter. 

You were a capable engineer, even though your talents were wasted on rebuilding the same schematics over and over again. At home, you are able to hone your own skills. Working on various knick knacks and gadgets. It was nice to have a second opinion as well. 

The two of you had spent many nights huddled around the living room surrounded by scattered parts and various prototypes. Only to have to separate the more advanced ones in fear of being caught. 

It was nice. 

                                                                    _______

“Damn, I didn’t think the boss would ever let you off.”

With less finesse and not a care in the world, you dropped haggeded into the seat offered by your friends. After another long week it was nice to finally load off with a few drinks and company chatter. 

For some reason the quota skyrocketed in the past few weeks. The recycling of old metal into new vessels becoming an unrelenting force on your crew. 

It turned out to be one of the worst moments to find yourself promoted. 

To think just three weeks ago you were throwing around drinks in celebration and now you were ready to drown out the accomplishment with whatever was on tap. 

“Apparently they’re bringing in a huge freighter soon,” you called out solemnly. Your supervisor had shown you the schematics of the parts that would be salvaged and what they wanted to accomplish with its predecessor. 

After another long shift all you could really make out was work and more work. 

But at least the same would be said for the riggers. 

To your right Reif, a Rodian, spoke crudely over a mouthful of food,” Yeah, been hearing about that one for sometime now. Suppose to be a Separist ship. Going to be quite the project.”

Slouching idly in your seat, you played lazily with the handle of the mug offered to you. Just another long project to keep you stranded on this planet. Not to say you had any plans otherwise. 

If anything you should really thank them for giving you something to focus on. 

Garnering everyone’s attention with a slam of her glass against the table, Enisa a pretty pale blue Rylothian, slurs loudly,” Enough of all this work talk. Let’s focus on something else.”

Then she’s sliding sharply into you, leaving you to fumble with your own glass,” Like your roommate. Why didn’t you tell me he was available.”

Because you weren’t in the market providing companions?

Your furrowed burrow must have voiced your thoughts because she was rolling her eyes without your verbal response. 

“Oh don’t play dumb. You’re harboring one of the few attractive souls on this god forsaken planet. And you’re not even bumping uglies with him, what a shame.”

You were stuck between defending your own choices and wondering when she learned such a human phrase. It was hardly worth the effort of explaining how the two of you just weren't like that. Your inventory of excuses were running dry.

“Stop making it awkward for her, she has to live with the guy.”

Catching Reif’s gaze over the rim of your glass, you give him a thankful nod. The rest of your group takes the initiative to fill the silence and progresses the conversation further into the night. Unlike most outings, neither of you are able to keep up with one another past a few extra hours. The weight of the day taking more out of you as it came to a close. 

You’re not the only one grateful when Reif brings the outing to a close. 

There is just enough alcohol in your system to make you stumble through the threshold of your home, groaning quietly as you try to stabilize yourself. More likely than not Cal was already asleep and you didn’t want to disrupt that. 

Now with the evening settling into your bones, there wasn't a part of your body that didn't ache and the incoming headache didn't make any part of it better. 

Right now the couch was looking a lot more inviting than it should be. You’d deal with the consequences it would leave on your body in the morning. 

Rounding the edge, you collapsed back into the cushions.

“What the hell?”

“Shit, Cal! What the fuck?”

A sharp hiss escapes him when your elbow jabs unkindly into the softness of his side. Before you could try to remedy it, his hand is gripping your upper arm and settling you more safely in the available space rather than on top of him. 

For a moment it's just your mixed breaths as you come down from the unexpected surprise. With more care, you twist more comfortably mindful of your limbs this time. 

It's hardly necessary but you whisper anyway. 

“Why are you here?”

You feel his arm wiggling behind your head and you raise your neck obediently to allow it to rest beneath you. As a reward, the same hand curls inward to comb through your hair lazily. He works his fingers across your nape and back up to your scalp finding just the right spot and drew small circles. 

“Dunno, just came home and ended up here. Kind of like you but less dramatically.”

You snort, “Sorry, wasn’t expecting a party of two.”

He hums to himself, the pad of his thumb pressing inward in a way the manages to reset your whole mindframe and you nearly white out from the release. 

There is more that could be said but the words escape you both as you settle for the night. If you weren't already going to regret this before, you were definitely were going to more now for an entirely different reason. But there was no chance of you altering the flow of what it was now. 

You would just have to lay there and try not to think too hard about the natural slot of your body to Lance’s despite the finite space. It was much easier to count the staccato of his dull thumping heartbeat as it lulled you off to sleep. 

                                                                     _______

“Goddammit, Meeka. You’re going to wake up your mom.”

Too late. 

Though in the defense of your mischievous loth-cat, the warm smell of breakfast permeating from the kitchen was just one waft away from rousing you. Stretching out your arms, you used the length of them to hook around the back of the couch to drag you up. 

Questionably burnt but you recognize the scent of some of your favorites.You has not caught a glimpse of what he was wearing last night but Cal appears to be wearing some fresh clothes. The way the collar of his shirt is damp in the back hints towards a shower. 

Part of you wonders if breakfast is a preemptive apology towards a cold shower you would be expecting later. 

“Where do you have to go so early?”

If you startle him, he doesn't show. He slides a bit of food onto a plate, giving Meeka more than gracious portion before bringing the plate to you. You take it gratefully, balancing it on the spine of the couch.

Alert to your presence and no doubt ready to beg for more scraps, you watch unimpressed as the feline-like creature slinks against you. She gets what's expected anyway as you part with a strip of meat.

Leaning against the counter within view, Cal scolds you playfully. “And you said I spoil her.”

“You start it,” you retort without any bite.

You blame the queasiness on residue alcohol when he laughs warmly. 

“Oh. “ You look up and Cal has a fork pointed at you. ‘’Your access card is on the table there.”

You’d already forgotten about that.

“Get anything good?” Safely, is weighted on your tongue but it seems like a waste to add it. Cal has always been mindful of his self, actions and footsteps in a way that makes you wonder how long he’s been watching his own back. 

In the few years you’ve known him, things like the past rarely came up. No one really came to Bracca chasing a future. It was just a means to an end until you could find something better if you could manage to get out. 

You hard already stopped trying when Cal stumbled into your life. But now it hardly seemed like a bad thing. 

The clank of dishes brings you out of your thoughts. His back is to you now as he cleans his mess.

“It will be a nice personal pay raise, that’s for sure. Prauf sends his thanks too.”

Cal surprises you again when he comes to collect your empty plate. Rather than comment it on it, you lounge comfortably in the domesticity of it all. 

“What’s your plan for the day?”

That was a good question. 

Your body had an obvious vote towards rest but responsibilities made a greater bid on your time. A bit of shopping would unfortunately be necessary but your savings would have to survive. Between the recent raise and this upcoming project, you should survive to hit. 

Replenish resources it would be then. At least if you start early enough it would allow you to relax for the remainder of the day. 

Cal’s gaze follows as you stretch and eventually slink off the couch. Meeka happy to have the entire furniture to herself doesn’t waste a moment to snuggle into your lingering warmth. 

“Down to the Bazaar first, then after that we’ll see.”

But first to see how much hot water you were going to be working with. Yawning loudly, you get to work with untangling the mess of your hair. Just before you can round the corner, Cal calls out to you.

“Want to make it a date?”

It’s an innocent play of words. One’s he’s used in the past without acting on it. 

‘And you’re not even bumping uglies with him, what a shame.’

And just when you finally stopped overthinking it.

Peeking over your shoulder, you found Cal waiting expectantly yet so unaware of the winds of the storm picking up in your mind. Was it even worth it to wonder if similar thoughts ever troubled him?

-nah, it was just easier to smile.

“Yeah, it’s a date.”

[sayreambrosio]

Date Night - Part 4: The Culmination

This story originally appeared as a commissioned work on the Forbidden Apple blog as part of a promotional series. Links within the story will take you to the product page on their site.

Bree squirted a healthy amount of lube into the hole in the egg’s bottom as her husband watched her intently and then slowly inserted two fingers inside the egg to coat the inside.

“Sit back, relax and close your eyes.”

Trevor leaned his back against the wall of the shower and adjusted his position on the bench to get more comfortable. Letting out a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes. He felt Bree slip the Tenga Egg onto the head of his dick, the pliable material stretched to encompass his girth as she pulled it down toward his balls. He couldn’t believe that little egg took his entire cock. It felt so good. The inside had some sort of pattern to it that massaged every inch as she worked it up and down, slowly at first, allowing him to feel every stroke, every crevice being explored.

“I want you to pretend that you are making love to that beautiful alien queen from the movie we watched the other day. The one with the beautiful smooth obsidian skin and those complex green markings running across her chest. It’s her pussy that you are inside right now. I want you to feel the intricacy of it, how it wraps around your dick like it was made just for you. How your beautiful cock hits against her womb and how she greedily clamps down on you, urging you to share your seed.”

Bree tightened her grip and stroked her husband’s cock faster and was met with moans of pleasure as he thrust his hips upward, totally engrossed in the fantasy. She reached down to and massage her mound, meeting the pace of his thrusting. Her body reacted to the touch and caused her to tighten her grip on the Kegel eggs she still held inside her. As she edged closer to her own orgasm, Bree moved from her mound and gently cupped Trevors chin in her hand.

“Open your eyes, my darling.” Trevor did as she asked and met his wife’s intense gaze. “I want you to fuck me like you would fuck her. I want you to give me your seed, so I can give you what you’ve always wanted. Can you do that?” She could tell that he was wrapped up in the fantasy when he nodded his head in agreement, but didn’t speak. She reached out her hand to him and he helped her up. “I want you to do everything I tell you to. Can you do that? It’s important.”

“I can. Just tell me what I need to do, my queen.”

“Get up and stand in front of the bench.”

Trevor did as he was told and Bree took her place on the bench, adjusting so that her ass would be even with the front of the bench when she leaned back towards the wall. She wanted to feel him inside of her, feel the waves of pleasure when his cock bumped against the eggs inside her.

“Come here, my lover.” He moved towards her, submitting to her every command. His dick rock hard as they played out his fantasy. His heart racing as he looked at his beautiful wife. The woman who went to such lengths to make him happy. “Are you ready to fuck your alien queen?”

“More than you know.”

“Come here then. I want to see what you have to offer me.” Trevor moved closer to Bree so that his cock directly in front of her face. “Well, my darling, that looks like it can do the job. Now listen closely. I want you to fuck me until you come. No more, no less. If you come before your queen, that is okay, but you must come inside me. Do you understand?”

Trevor nodded his head, and a smile appeared on his face as he realized that not only was he getting to take part in his fucking an alien fantasy, but this amazingly kinky woman sitting in front of him was taking it to another level. He was smack dab in the middle of his alien birthing fantasy.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m to fuck you until I orgasm and fill you with my seed.”

“Very good, my darling. Now get over here and fuck me.”

Trevor guided his stiff cock to the opening of her vagina, teasing her clit with the head before he penetrated her. A moan escaped her lips as she leaned back against the shower wall. The eggs inside shifted ever so slightly as he entered her, causing a wave of pleasure to roll through her body.

“Oh my god, your cunt feels so good.” It was taking all he had not to come before he was all the way in. Between the epic hand job he had just received, the tightness of her cunt, and the role play, he was barely hanging on. He wasn’t sure what she had done to make her pussy feel so tight, but he liked it.

“Less talking, more fucking.” Bree wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him in close, forcing his cock the rest of the way into her throbbing vagina. He grabbed her legs and placed them on his shoulders. Smiling, Bree nodded her approval as he pulled out slowly and then rammed his cock into her balls deep, over and over, each time bringing her to the edge of orgasm and then denying her that release. His speed increased as he came closer to coming himself. Until finally, he couldn’t take it any longer and shot load after load of his seed into her womb.

“I’m coming, my queen!”

“That’s a good boy. Do you know why I ordered you to come inside me?”

“I think so, my queen.”

“Well, tell me then.” “You wanted me to come inside you so a human could impregnate you.”

“That’s right, my darling. Now let’s hope it did the job. We’ll know soon enough.”

“What do you mean by soon enough?”

“Well, everything in my species is accelerated, so if you were successful we shall know in a few minutes.”

Trevor leaned in and kissed her passionately and whispered in her ear, “This has been an amazing night, my queen.”

“It’s about to get better, my darling. Now I need you to kneel in front of me and place my feet on your shoulders. It’s time for the birthing.” As her feet were lifted, Bree started pushing out the eggs. “Pay attention, my dear, you don’t want to miss it.”

Trevor had another hard on just thinking about what was happening. He had convinced himself that he would never get to do this. That the kink was just too weird. Boy, did she prove him wrong tonight. He stroked his cock as he watched the first egg break free and slip from her pussy. He hurried to catch it and placed it gently next to him just in time to watch the second egg pop out and into his hands.

“Well, there is our answer. Looks like your job here is complete.”

“That was the most awesome thing I have ever experienced.” He rose from his kneeling position and leaned in to kiss the beautiful cunt that has just fulfilled one of his deepest desires. “Thank you, my queen.”

“You know I would do anything to make you happy my love and if I’m being honest, I had always wanted to try something like that too. Who knows, maybe we can make this a yearly thing and explore some more of your fantasies. But for now, let’s grab a late-night snack. I’m starving and you’re going to need fuel to keep you going. After all, we have 18 hours before we have to be home. I’m sure we can find something to do.”

© 2021 Sayre Ambrosio All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this story may be reproduced or copied without the expressed written permission of the author.

[tomorrowsdrama]

Hyena Ep. 16

I’m baaack!  Kind of.  I think I hit that point in my quarantine life where I kind of lost my mind so I went on an unexpected hiatus that lasted longer than intended.  I know it’s been over a month after the finale of Hyena but here are my ramblings.  This post is super long so I’ll save my thoughts on the series as a whole for another post.

Objectively, it was a pretty good finale that was entertaining and wrapped up the important plot lines.  We even got some sweet otp moments (more on that later) and satisfying smackdown of the bad guy.  But subjectively?  Personally?  Purely based on my selfish expectations?  I wanted more romance!  More sexiness!  I wasn’t expecting a wedding or anything like that but, not even one kiss?  Or a long embrace?  Why????

I mean, how can you give me all this sexy chemistry in the promos:

And then not make use of it in the finale?  That’s just not fair I say!  I feel bamboozled!

Ep. 16

Anyway, let’s talk about the parts I enjoyed of the finale.  This is mainly (99%) going to be about the moments between Geum Ja and Hee Jae.  So on the morning of episode 16, way back when, I woke up so excited for the finale.  Since this was the last episode, surely there will be a kiss!  And surely it would be epic given the chemistry between JJH and KHS.  I mean did you see that kiss in episode 8?  So when we started off the episode with the scene of Hee Jae telling Geum Ja he didn’t want to see her hurt anymore, I was amped.  Yes, we’re starting off strong with the romantic scenes I thought.

How can you not fall for him?

Geum Ja, you are not a gangster, you do not need to show your story through the scars on your body.  Joking aside, it’s sad that she’s been through so much in life that she has the scars to prove it. 

I love that Hee Jae says this half-sarcastically but you can tell that he truly does not want Geum Ja to go through any more pain/suffering.  And it’s his sincerity that makes Geum Ja smile so softly.  And this is where they kiss right?

Nope, he gets a hearty bro punch in the shoulder.

Cut for lots of caps and ramblings.  It’s a bit of a mini novel, you’ve been warned!

Mmm I loved how many scenes of concerned Hee Jae we got in this episode.  

Geum Ja screams from a nightmare and Hee Jae immediately runs into the office to check on her.  The only way he could have reacted so quickly is if he was sitting outside the office guarding Geum Ja which...AHHH I think I’ve just died and gone to hurt/comfort heaven.  Just look at JJH’s face.

EEE!  I audibly squealed when Geum Ja said this.  Ok, now I’ve truly died.  Geum Ja?  Asking to be comforted?  By Hee Jae?  What?  This is major.  She’s finally letting down her walls a little bit around Hee Jae and allowing herself to be vulnerable.  Keep on leaning I say!  Lean all the way into bed.

Omg and then she showed concern over Hee Jae’s own emotional state despite her own trauma.  His dad totally betrayed him just a few hours ago so Hee Jae’s having a pretty shitty day too.  But of course, Hee Jae is only concerned about Geum Ja.  Ahh, how many times is he going to make me swoon in this episode?  

Feet piled on top of each other?!  Are they finally in bed together?

Of course not.  Unfortunately, this isn’t that type of drama.  SIGH.  But this is still very sweet and squeal-inducing.

Have I talked about how much I love JJH’s little sly smirks?

I love that these two fools can’t stop worrying about the other.  Geum Ja knows better than anyone how deep emotional scars caused by a parent can be.  On top of that, Hee Jae’s father was someone he respected and loved, so the blow is even bigger.  I just really like it when my otp show how much they care about each other, ok?

Look at that smile on Hee Jae’s face.  It’s like there’s no other place he would rather be than next to Geum Ja. 

No, please don’t.  Y’all are not 12.  Please get at least a queen size bed with plenty of room for two adults to move around in and do...adult things lol.

And then.  AND THEN!  Geum Ja takes the initiative and turns over towards Hee Jae.  She’s finally the one taking the first step towards him without any prodding.  And Hee Jae smiles to himself and follows her lead to turn over also.  And then the two fools smile lovingly at each other as they fall asleep.  Omg, excuse me, I need a moment.  I’ve temporarily passed on to the other side from sheer otp happiness.

This moment was just too good.  I literally raised both my arms up into the air and cheered when I first watched this episode.  I thought, wow the writers are feeding us so well.  They’re showering us with so many romantic scenes.  The otp caring for each other?  Being tender with each other?  Sharing a “bed?”  I don’t want to ever get off this love train, keep it coming!  This is only the first third of the episode so surely it can only go up from here.

And then it ended on a comedic note.  I guess I should have seen that coming.  This is SBS, not TVN (or JTBC from the looks of The World of the Married).  Hah, well I suppose they both had a pretty tiring day so it’s understandable that they would not have much energy to do anything else.

It’s the little everyday things like asking if she’s ok that get me.

(JJH I thirst for you.)

Suuuuure you are.

Lol, he wouldn’t be Hee Jae if he didn’t pull something childish/petty.  At least Geum Ja is amused by it and finds it cute now.  Get you a man who can be both your emotional support and amusing bratty boyfriend.

Geum Ja does end up meeting Hee Jae for dinner and he can’t help but smile a little.  Gosh, it takes so little from Geum Ja to make him happy.

(damn, look at that profile!)

So some time during this episode, Geum Ja’s adoptive father died off-screen from the stab wound he sustained while stopping her assailant.  At first, I went “Huh, that’s it?”  But then the more I thought about it, the more I liked how matter-of-factly it was treated.  It’s certainly consistent with how Geum Ja deals with things.  Also, she faced her demons/him in a previous episode so you could say that she already resolved that chapter of her life.  

Still, you could tell that she’s not completely unaffected by it.  KHS’s acting in this scene is so good. You can tell there’s more to it than what she’s saying just by the little subtle changes in her expression.  I can only imagine the many complicated feelings she must be experiencing.  

On the one hand, he’s the worst part of her past life and surely deserved to die.  But on the other hand, unintentional or not, he died saving her.  Geum Ja does not state this with any affection or sentimentality in her voice.  It is merely something that happened.  Thank goodness the writers did not try to redeem him in the last minute.  One good deed does not make up for all the violence and abuse inflicted on her and her mother.  

Anyway, all that muddled history and emotions would make anybody conflicted.  They really handled it the best way they could - simply state what happened and move on.  No hate, no praise, no sadness.  He was a terrible man who paid the ultimate price and died.  I like that Hee Jae understands not to push the matter any further and changes the subject.

Bro, you’re delusional if you think you still have a chance with her.  

And then we get to the ubiquitous Big Shareholder Meeting that we see so often in dramas.  I love how Geum Ja is so ballsy in everything she does and she does it all in her comfy tracksuits. Of course the Big Shareholder Meeting does not go as planned and Song Pil Jung gets arrested.

God I love the look on Geum Ja’s face.  It screams “is this guy still talking to me?”

Can I just say, I love how utterly brutal Geum Ja is in her rejection of Kevin Jung.  Woof, ouch.  If I ever heard that from someone I liked, I would be so devastated and embarrassed, I’d find a dark hole to bury myself in and lick my wounds.  But of course, Kevin, like all the other men who fall for Geum Ja, seems to be into it.  It takes a certain type of man to go for Geum Ja and apparently that type is a total masochist who likes getting rejected and their heart ripped out.  I mean, to each their own.

I like whenever they do their power couple strut.

A bro fist bump?  Really?  Hm, I never really fist bumped the guys I dated but that’s cool I guess.  They’re going in to destroy Song Pil Jung so I guess a fist bump is appropriate.

Hm, I don’t know.  It seems like you’re the one who got arrested.

Bro.  Mister.  Are you for real?  Did you forget all the shitty things you did to her?

Yeah, that’s kind of a big deal I think.

SO. SATISFYING.  Whew honey, this exchange gave me life.  My skin has cleared, my bank account is full, and I’ve lost 5 pounds.

Yessss I am all for this nerdy JJH in glasses and turtleneck sipping on expensive instant coffee aesthetic. 

The couple that taunts together, stays together?

Hahahahaha, Hee Jae talking about being professional at work? Hahahahha.

I live for jealous Hee Jae because he’s extra ridiculous whenever he’s jealous.  In this scene he’s getting jealous over Ju-Ho calling Geuma Ja “noona” and it’s like come on, they’re foster siblings.  Let him call her noona.  Side note, Netflix translates “noona” into Eun-Young, Geum Ja’s real name, and it irks me.  Couldn’t they have just translated it into “sis” instead?

Now we’re around the 55 minute mark and I’m thinking, okay this is probably where it’s going to end.  This is when it’s going to happen.  They don’t have that much time left in the episode.  All right, give me us all that we’ve been waiting for.

(Good looking main stays looking good.)

You can’t ever accuse Hee Jae of not being committed to Geum Ja.

We finally get an explanation for why Geum Ja always stared at that huge building

Haha, can you expect anything less from her character?  At this point, I’m looking at the remaining time and thinking, ok then, when’s that kiss gonna happen?

SHRIEKS WHAT ARE THOSE HIDEOUS THINGS ON HIS FEET?!  On another note, I’m sure Kim Hye Soo must be so glad she doesn’t have to wear those gigantic heels anymore.

Omg, ok, this is it.  We’re getting shots of beautiful sexy people strutting and being playful with each other.  They’re setting up for a romantic ending kiss.  Ok, time to prepare myself.

Yes, put your arms around each other.  We’re getting closer now.

Oh, ok.  I guess this will be a far away in the distance kind of kiss.  That’s ok, too I guess.

Oh, wait.  Never mind.  Looks like we’re going to get a frontal view of the ending kiss after all.  Even better!

What?  That’s it?  What?  Did I miss something?  This can’t be.

Oh whew.  An epilogue.  Ok, this is when it’s going to happen.

Hahaha, they’re totally using the vloggers to advertise for their law firm.  I love how Hee Jae has loosened up on what he thinks a proper lawyer should act like and it’s reflected in his more flamboyant wardrobe choices.

These damn fist bumps again.  All the time spent fist bumping could have been spent hugging and kissing.  Priorities, people!

Hah, like hell Hee Jae would ever leave Geum Ja.

Haha knew it.  Boy is more whipped than whipped cream.

This pretty much sums up their dynamic.  SIGH I’m not going to get my kiss am I.

Oh no.  That caption can only mean one thing.

Yeeep.  That’s it.  This is the end.  Finito.  

Well.  All right then.  You know, the first time I watched this episode, I felt very disappointed that there was no final kiss.  I mean the last time we saw them kissing was in episode 8 at the midpoint of the drama.  This drama was clearly a rom com/screwball comedy so it only seemed fitting that there would be one last kiss scene.  That’s how you end a romantic drama!  But alas.

Actually, upon re-watching and re-capping this episode, I realized that even though we did not get any kiss scene, the writers still gave us plenty of sweet moments between Hee Jae and Geum Ja.  We got to see their lovely progression into becoming partners who supported and trusted each other so that was nice.  Even though they’re clearly together now, it’s nice to see that they still have their playful bickering dynamic.  So objectively, it was a nice ending.  I just personally wanted more smooches.

If you made it through this entire post, thank you for expending so much time reading my ramblings and congratultaions on having so much patience!

[unproduciblesmackdown]

comet, moon, pluto, aquila, protostar

Thank You vm

Comet- What are you currently frustrated about?

lmaooo oh you know at any given time i’m weaving this rich tapestry of continual frustrations lol.....i’d say i’m in an Upswing Period of [simmering frustration levels closer to the surface] lately too lol like earlier in the week i pushed through a day or two there more casually but then it was like ah jeez here comes the malaise. more specifically today, even just before sitting down to answer this, i emerged from the bathroom to find there was a “dog has pooped inside despite having been outside within the last 10 min” shituation, which was wonderful.....annoyed from Waking by “smh at not being able to adjust my nocturnality, still frustrated about the near success of last friday being thwarted by the dead of night hammering debacle,” & regular Antagonizing Audio issues, aka being stressed by both the [loud, alarming] type sound & the [gross textural misophonia hell] type.....earlier i was like “where is the dish sponge” (still don’t know) & went to get a new, packaged one which had been in a drawer, but that one was gone too, good that there’s no pressing need to wash dishes rn i guess.....still struggling with the “well i guess i’m trying to put myself out there Socially” attempt to find relevant public discords, being generally overwhelmed as actually talking to randos in a group is A Lot & in theory it’s like well you meet someone Specific you’d enjoy talking to & branch off from there but unfortunately you can’t just skip to that step, also i do not genuinely Expect to get to that step either way, also i am not easily finding servers in the 1st place b/c it’s like, well i talk about Interests but what am i interested in? who knows. don’t do art “seriously” enough to rly wanna discuss it much, thought abt Language Learning but one i found wants you to have a verified account lmao like, no thanks. in theory i enjoy Socializing some but in practice it is sure a trial & i have not said anything to anyone anywhere yet, just a “well, not sure what else i could do here situation,” in theory take up an In Person hobby / group to make it all easier but that’s not happening. which, i was also Frustrated remembering oh right i spent a year as measured by my personal age in 1 location, both Pandemic & other [society] problems, & speaking of Interests & Hobbies not having them, i was also >:| over something having kicked in my Math Sensibilities (aka that i like math) & wondering like, would i have enjoyed getting more into math / some particular application, who knows, same but also even more so re: other things i get the sense i’m quite Into, like learning languages & ~performing arts~, which, i at least took math / math related classes into college level courses, which is not true for those other things (took a Language Class: never, took a theatre / drama class: for 1/4 of the schoolyear in 7th grade, & prior to that, just did a scene or two of a play in english class 4th grade, & the approx decade extracurricular of ballet, which is related but of course a different thing. anyhow, annoyed that i Simply Do Not Know & hardly see opportunities to find out on the horizon, although who knows.....which is related to being frustrated about [Society] some more like, thinking about “boy how different would it be if people were guaranteed the right to Essentials For Life like housing, food, medical care, both electricity & the internet Now A Days...” like, agonizing What If there, it is all so unnecessary that It Is Like This......just now someone made an unnecessary Post lmfao thank you xkit.......oh right, i was Frustrated, with an emphasis In Aro / Ace, about Media & Life, what else is new & then, you know, musings on The Theoretical Future & One’s Personal Past that would become even more of a like, audioscape: therapy session topic, these are frustrating things. and all of this answer has been stuff i remember getting Frustrated about in the past 24 hours. Also!!! that last night i was like, i want to play scrabble, so i looked up an online game but the Computer settings are a nightmare like, as far as i could tell the Difficulty settings were mostly attuned to Average Word Length but it was like, yeah you’re playing against this opponent given this effective total familiarity with the most obscure / archaic shit in the scrabble dictionary, not even simply the like, q words / two letter words ppl might happen to know specifically for the purposes of scrabble. there was also no “new game” button?? just had to refresh the page? smh. oh lmfao! also! you Know i was frustrated thinking about Billions, the series / interest that antagonizes you, jokes on you when you hone in on the Quant where it’s like, is he just meant to be the guy who sucks, plus he’s got depression....suppose they do at least handle him w/some sympathy / nonzero Care for this Char acter, but smh at sighing about [bracing yourself for anything promising (cough riawin) to spiral into disaster one way or another, whether it turns into a joke or plot device or just something introduced / built up / demolished for ambient drama/conflict].....what else is new. the periodic cycles of Billions Thoughts lol. was just frustrated at a video’s Editing Cadence basically lmfao. i also find it grating when the word “the jab” is used in tweets re: vaccination, which i just saw, presumably in the same sort of way where i automatically dislike the phrase To Be Fair or referring to food/eating with “fill / filling” or any variants lmfao, or earnest use of the description “hearty”......some words i hate the sound of no matter what, some i hate to hear used in a particular phrase / context......need to simply stop doing things in the middle of answering this b/c it will inevitably involve Frustrations lmfaooo. oh also i was annoyed to wake up to a clear sky. where’s that overcast atmosphere

Moon- Are you currently reading any books? If so, what book(s)?

i am not, but i’ve been considering it! just inconvenient b/c a) i gotta like, choose what book/s to read, & b) i have to read via laptop, which is kind of a pain, & c) like with everything, i always tend to basically read stuff all at once, but i’m also a slow reader lmao, so it’s like, okay, i’m probably basically devoting days on end to Reading Through whatever.....

Pluto- If you could meet anyone, alive or dead, who would you meet?

another classic Fascinating Answer of “i dunno” lol, i’ve never really had a go to answer for this or anything that’s particularly leapt out.....plus re: how i tend to feel nervous with on the spot socializing, the concept of like “if you could have dinner with someone” is too much lmfao like, a waste of time, i’d simply Be Nervous my way completely through it. the only way i could think of things is like, here i go giving someone an interview, i guess, and whomst tf would i feel Prepared to talk to lmfao. relevant to interests it’s like well of course you could ask w. roland things the in depth secret jared questions, or Any questions about quant n billions, but then it’s also like, well, there’s the questions I already have an answer for lol & either you have the same answer or i have a mini monologue, not like i don’t speak in mini monologues all the time if i have something to say at all, and my Questions go like that too lmfao, a disaster already trying to ask people about pertinent Information......never able to think of things re: people who have died, i suppose there’s fun answers re: like, getting lost / unknown Historical Info......when it comes to meeting people i don’t really consider it much in advance b/c i am nervous about everything & aware that any interacting is a Challenge lmfao. whenever these things actually happen, it’s hardly always a disaster, but i’m just improvising in the end. also, i could meet people i actually know but have never met, i.e. you, who i talk to but we are Virtual & Pandemic’d & etc & so on. but i suppose that’s kind of a given lol

Aquila- Do you prefer to read books or watch movies?

i think movies are less Involved for me, like, even if it takes me 3x their runtime (or longer) to watch any videos thanks to getting distracted & stuff, still quicker than i read a book, & unless i’m watching something for the first time and/or really wanting to properly pay attention, i can do other things while putting a movie on, whereas if i’m reading that’s the One Thing i can be doing. but overall i’m like “media, what media” whichever format lol like. haven’t consumed things, don’t often think of specific works i want/plan to consume, don’t often get around to it, etc. classique.....

Protostar- Give a random fact about yourself.

speaking of classic, me struggling to recall 101 info about myself or answer not that out there Questions, but when it’s like “alright hater what are you disgruntled about now” it’s like, Deep Inhale lmfao, but [are you okay? Is Anyone].jpeg on that one as well, we are out here......uh i’m sure i’ve said it before but i’m around 5′11″? maybe 6 ft tall but that might be overdoing it. sort of Average Tall but i am always literally looking down on people lmao.....and bumping my head into a low hanging light fixture around here.....

[kpop-zone]

Red Velvet reaction to their s/o getting wasted

Warning: consumption of alcohol

A/N: I swear I’m not Irene biased, her text just ended up longer because the first paragraphs were meant to be an introduction for all members, but then I chose different scenarios for each of them in the end 🙈

Irene

Because you were dating an idol, spending a night out, was normally not one of the privileges you had. But Red Velvet were just starting their Europe tour and despite of having a growing fanbase there, not a lot of people would recognize them when bumping into them on the street. Therefore, you saw this as a chance. A chance to behave like a normal group of friends on a normal Friday night.

You can’t exactly explain how it happened. Maybe a year ago, you could chug a few beers and still be totally fine. But you had to admit, dating Irene also led to a change of your lifestyle. It wasn’t like Irene forbid you to drink alcohol, but because she was an idol, she couldn’t drink a lot of alcohol herself, especially during tours and as her partner who spend a lot of evenings with her, you didn’t drink as much alcohol as well.

To your dismay, however, you must have forgotten that consuming less alcohol also led to a lower alcohol tolerance. As excited as you were about finally visiting a bar with Seulgi, Seungwan, Sooyoung, Yerim and your lovely girlfriend, you might have drunken a few too many drinks in too short a time. Irene didn’t even notice until it was already too late.

Slowly but surely you began slurring your words and you became way to excited about that karaoke machine. While the others found your behavior quite amusing, Irene eyed you with a concerned look from the side. Although she didn’t mind a little fun and was way more loose than the media always drew her out to be, she was still the leader of Red Velvet and she didn’t want a scandal to overshadow their Europe tour. She didn’t want you to embarrass yourself in public or draw too much attention to her members and her.

Therefore, she decided to take the role as the rational one another time in order to protect the ones she loved. In your drunken state, you didn’t even realize Irene’s restraint or how she tried to keep you in check the rest of the night by repeatedly giving you water and keeping her arm around you to stop you from running away. You were too busy laughing with the other girls to realize Irene’s sad eyes. She was quite disappointed that she couldn’t enjoy the evening like everyone else and would make sure to talk with you in the morning.

Wendy

It wasn’t like you planned to get your girlfriend and yourself drunk, but you were just so happy to finally be able to go on a real date with Seungwan. Since the beginning of your relationship, you mostly met in one of your apartments or when you took the risk of going outside, it was never without her members and what seemed like a million managers. But after months of convincing and the promise to keep low key, her company allowed Seungwan to take you out on a real date for your first anniversary.

Both of you were incredibly giddy on the car right to the little restaurant in a quieter area of Seoul, feeling like teenagers sneaking away from their parents. You wanted to make this evening perfect, not knowing when the next time would be you could enjoy a date alone in the real world. Arriving at the restaurant, you were immediately greeted with some Soju. The waiter left you with the bottle and while you were chatting away over the different courses, you didn’t even realize how the room had been getting hotter and the both of you louder, laughing over banalities and getting flirtier with every minute.

But quite frankly none of you cared. There were no other guests in the restaurant and both of you were young. Seungwan just wanted to enjoy the night. Of course she made sure that the both of you could think more or less straight, but otherwise she saw no reason for not getting a little tipsy and making the most of the night, so she didn’t mind you pouring both of you another drink.

Seulgi

Seulgi was quite frankly a little overwhelmed by the situation. She was no stranger to drinking some beers in the evening to relax, but never had she actually been completely wasted. You told her that you would have a couple of drinks with your colleagues after work, but never would she have expected to find you in front of her door, not even being able to stand properly. It was a wonder that you even made it this far.

Quickly she helped you inside, before anyone else could see you this way. She had to use all her strength to somehow get you to the couch. For a second, she debated whether she could wake Irene to help her, but when you loudly started to sing Eyes, nose, lips, she knew that Irene wouldn’t be able to sleep anymore anyways. She made her way to Irene’s room and quickly told her the situation after she woke her up. Lucky for her, Irene was able to keep her cool and told Seulgi what to do.

Together they changed your clothes into some more comfortable ones, made you drink water and also brought a bucket in the very likely case that you had to throw up. Seulgi was afraid that you could wake the other members too, but her fear quickly proofed to be unnecessary as your eyes became heavier with every second. Confident to be able to handle you alone now, Seulgi thanked her unnie and let her go back to bed again. She wanted to make sure that you were actually sleeping and didn’t have to throw up, so she decided to sit on the edge of the couch a little while longer.

She stroked your hair lovingly and listened to your incoherent babbling about how much you loved her until your breathing became slow and steady. With a last kiss goodnight, she returned to her own bed, trying to get a few more hours of sleep, before she had to get up quite early in the morning to make sure that the maknaes didn’t have the chance to tease you, although she was sure that she couldn’t leave the events of this night all uncommented as well.

Sooyoung

Joy knew it was pure torture for you to watch her move her body in those ways on stage during their concerts. So as a birthday surprise, she decided to go to a club with you. Your birthday happened to be while they were in the US for a special stage during an event, which she saw as the perfect opportunity to try the lifestyle of two careless college girls in love, even if it was only for one night.

On your birthday she surprised you with a beautiful outfit. It wasn’t until after you tried it on, that she told you her plans for the night, which left you equally excited as you were concerned about your girlfriend getting in serious trouble with her company. Sooyoung assured you, however, that the other girls would cover up for her and after you saw her in her outfit that expertly showed her perfect body, all your worries where out the window, because, quite frankly, you lost all ability to think in the first place.

In the club the music was deafening loud, making the effects of the alcohol you drank seem to be even stronger. Having Sooyoung by your side, you had no trouble getting free drinks for the both of you, but because Sooyoung decided that it would be better for her to stay sober in order to have at least one rational person, you drank for two persons that night.

Opposing to you, Sooyoung, however, definitely didn’t need alcohol to dance. She enjoyed seeing you more loose and also the way you weren’t able to hide the emotions in your eyes when looking at her. The whole club was watching your girlfriend sway her hips on the dance floor, but Sooyoung didn’t even notice, because all she could feel was your body against hers and all she could see was the smirk on your lips before she kissed you.

Yeri

Because you were dating the maknae of Red Velvet, the other members automatically treated you as someone that needed to be protected as well. And it was true. Although you had different personalities, Yeri and you were very similar in certain aspects, one being that you both liked to have fun.

Therefore, it was no wonder that you both decided to spice up the game night that you had at Red Velvet’s dorm by introducing alcohol to the table. Over the course of the night, you both invented a series of dumb rules that had to be followed by the both of you as a infraction led to having to drink a sip of the alcohol you were having. Eventually leading to rules like You have to drink every time you blink, the unnies finally decided to end your game before you would trash the whole apartment.

Nevertheless, it was enough for the both of you to be considerably drunk, which had the consequence that you behaved even more childish than you normally would. Yeri and you competed in savage comments, cheated whenever possible during the board games and finally gave your best version of Frozen’s Into the Unknown.

At the end of the night, you would fall asleep faster than ever, only waking up to regret hitting you in the morning. Not only did both of you have a headache, but also did the unnies use every chance that they had to tease their maknae. Yeri was incredibly embarrassed and hoped that soon someone else would have a mishap, so she could do the teasing again.

[amyscascadingtabs]

this is the safest place i’ve ever known

(read on ao3)

my mind is still reeling thinking about mel being pregnant and i needed some pregnancy fluff in my life so i wrote this hope you enjoy xox

~

Throughout their relationship, Jake has always cherished his and Amy's last moments of the day. The relaxed half an hour where she's solving crossword puzzles and he's playing games on his phone, followed by the moment she’ll decide she's tired and they'll turn out the lights and snuggle for a bit before each drifting off to sleep, is one of his favorite parts of living together. He never thought he'd see a day where these nights became even better, but the day their baby started kicking, he’d found out he’d been dead wrong. 

 He'd known Amy would feel it first. In a logical sense, it had felt more than fair when he considered their respective workloads for the whole pregnancy project, but on an emotional level, it wasn't as black-and-white. Jealousy was an ugly emotion, and he hadn’t experienced it for a second witnessing the first trimester’s crying feasts and vomiting episodes, but it hadn’t been without its sting when she'd texted him during the midst of a busy workday. 

 I think I just felt Peanut move. 

 Like, 90% sure. 

Oh my god, he’d written back, almost immediately. I’m so proud of them. 

 He’d stopped for a moment before adding, I hope I can feel it soon.

 I’m sure you will, babe. ❤️

 It had taken two long weeks before he did. 

Jake was embarrassed to admit it, but there had been times during those weeks where he’d felt left out, so clearly separate from the bond between Amy and the tiny life they’d created. She would put her hand on the ever-growing bump whenever it happened, a delighted smile on her lips, and he’d touch his hand to the exact same place without any reaction. Either their baby was shy for some reason, or they were straight-up trying to make him look like a fool. He didn’t exactly appreciate either, but any movement from them would leave Amy beaming with happiness and pride for several minutes, so he’d swallowed the self-centric jealousy, kissed her forehead and let it be. 

 They’d celebrated twenty-one weeks of pregnancy - more than halfway to the finish line - the night he’d first felt it. It was more of an early night in and snuggling under the comforter kind of celebration than anything else, but it had felt perfect all the same. Jake had been seconds away from closing his eyes, lazily tracing patterns with his fingers on his wife’s baby bump and pressing kisses while her shoulder, when he’d first felt something move beneath his palm. The smallest of nudges, subtle and almost inconspicuous; but he’d felt it. 

“Ames,” he’d practically gawked. “They moved!”

“Yeah, I know. Wait,” she blinked, realizing what he’d said. “You felt that?”

“Yeah! About time!” 

She’d laughed at his excitement, ruffling his curls as he dove under the comforter.

“I’m going to see if I can get them to do it again,” he mumbled with his lips right below her belly button, running his hands along her sides. 

“Why do I feel like this is going to be a long night?”

 Their evenings had gained a brand-new tradition since that night. If they’d been perfect before, Jake couldn’t help but think this was better still. Each night as they settled on their preferred sides of the bed, Amy with an increasing collection of pillows, Jake would give her about five minutes of solo crossword puzzle solving until he set to work on trying to communicate with their baby. Evenings were when they were most awake, he’d learned. To a beginning, he’d only get faint, bubbling movements that were gone in a second, but as the weeks passed, they grew more distinct until he could see them happening. It all felt very alien if he thought too hard about it, but then again, that was true for most pregnancy facts. At least he could have fun with this part. 

 ~

 “Jake, are you trying to annoy them into kicking?” 

“Mm-hmm?” He feigns an innocent expression, pouting his lip as he looks up at his six-months-pregnant wife. “Just preparing them for the outside world, babe.”

“So they’re ready for you to annoy the crap out of them when they're born?”

“Pssch, me? I’ve never been annoying in my life.” He ignores the glare Amy shoots him. “I'm preparing them for actual annoying things, like taxes, and following rules.”

“Following rules isn't annoying,” she protests, twitching as Jake tries to tickle her. “Babe, I swear they’re asleep.”

“I swear you’re wrong.”

“Hey! I’m the one who’s carrying this child!”

“And you’re doing an awesome job of it.” He comes up for a second to give her a quick peck on the lips. He means what he’s saying - she’s totally acing the whole pregnancy thing, which he tries to remind her often  - but he has his limits. “Doesn't make you any less wrong, sadly.”

“Mm, you’re infuriating.” Her hands cup his face, drawing him back for a longer kiss that makes up for in heart what it lacks in flair. “You’re adorable, though.”

“The Peralta special,” he smirks. He’s still moving his palm back and forth on her stomach, hoping for the warm touch to garner a reaction. “Did you want to go to sleep, or -”

“You can talk to them for a bit, if you want.”

 Jake barely waits for her to finish her permission before he’s crawling underneath the duvet again, pressing his lips against the football-sized bump.

“So I know you’re very in love with your mom,” he starts off, earning himself another laugh from Amy. “Which, I totally get you. She’s the smartest, funniest, most beautiful and allover amazing woman I’ve ever met. Plus she’s literally growing you and all that, so you’re probably pretty loyal to her, right? That’s fair.”

He traces a heart around her belly button. “I know I’m not much in comparison to her. Right now, I’m just the weirdo guy who keeps trying to make you kick and sings Taylor Swift songs to you because you’re never too young to be introduced to the greatest songwriter of all. But do you think you could side with me, just for once? Come on. It’d be so fun to see your mom’s face.”

Nothing. He pushes his nose into Amy’s skin a bit further. 

“She makes this amazing expression when I’m right and she’s wrong about something, you know. She does this eye roll and purses her lips, like she’s trying to pretend she’s mad but she’s not. Trust me, it’s incredible.”

Amy huffs. “I don’t do that.” 

“Anyway, I know you’re not going to come out of there for a few months. You could actually survive now if you did, which is crazy to think about, but you shouldn’t because it would stress us all out very much and we haven’t even built your crib yet. Sorry about that. I just wanted to tell you that we’re going to have so much fun when you do,” he whispers, his voice softening. “We'll finally get to hang out just the two of us. We’re going to play games and share secrets, and when you’re a little older, we’ll watch all the movies for kids your mom never wants to see with me. It's going to be the best.”

 He has to pause for a moment. He takes a couple of deep breaths, in and out, pushing away the nervous 

feeling in his chest.  

“I used to be scared of this, you know. I still am. But… the weird thing is, it’s like the more you grow, the more excited I get, too. Because I'm scared of a billion different things, like maybe you’ll hate me or I won't know how to take care of you or maybe you won't even like Die Hard when you get older, but…” He lowers his voice and mumbles the next words. “You're kinda already the coolest person that ever existed.”

It's so weak, barely there at all, but underneath his palm, Jake feels a faint flutter.

“It’s an impressive achievement, considering you're not even born yet,” he continues, encouraged by the miniscule movement. “But it's true. You are. And I know it's like fifteen weeks left until then, but… I really can't wait to meet you, whenever you're ready.”

 There's another flutter. He presses his palm into the spot, waits a few seconds, and there's a proper kick right against his hand. 

“Told you so.” He looks up at Amy with a grin plastered on his face. “Awake.”

“You woke them up,” she says, shaking her head but smiling. “Waking up when you give them praise - that’s a Peralta if I ever knew one.”

He wants to retort something, but a series of repeated kicks against his palm makes him forget what he was planning to say. 

“I love you,” he whispers to their unborn child instead, his words muffled against Amy’s skin as he traces kisses up and down the curve of her stomach. “So much. You better get used to hearing me telling you that before you get out of there -”

 Jake doesn’t finish his sentence before there’s another kick - only this time, it’s right at his nose and packed with enough strength to make him flinch. “Ouch!”

Amy’s giggling so much she’s shaking, clasping her hand over her mouth as she keeps on laughing.

“They kicked my nose, Ames! I’m pretty sure that’s a hate crime!”

“Maybe they’re learning how to establish boundaries.”

“That or my discomfort with emotions is genetic,” he grumbles while massaging the bridge of his nose.

“It isn’t,” Amy promises him. She gestures at him to come closer and he goes willingly, meeting her lips with his and feeling her smile against them. “They just have to practice. If it’s any consolation, they’re kicking me in the bladder on a daily basis.”

Jake grimaces. “Ow.”

“Mm-hmm.” She beams, tracing her fingers through the curls near his forehead. “You’re going to be a great dad, you know.”

“You really think so?”

“I really do. And I can’t wait for us to meet our baby.”

“Our baby,” he repeats not for the first time in the last five months. Still holding one hand on the bump, he feels two more tiny kicks, growing stronger as Amy’s hand covers his. 

 He had a feeling their peaceful evenings together would come to change drastically in fifteen or so weeks’ time, but for now, they were well and truly perfect.