#goddamn I am so annoyed by this trip even though I’m looking forward to it

[fractallogic]

Okay so like I think this is what I need to do tomorrow in a relatively fine-grained denomination and also in order for what needs to happen when

The real question is whether I can keep myself on task enough to actually be able to accomplish it all (including the bed by 10 PM part)

Guys I am STRESSED and OVERWHELMED and it is my OWN DUMBASS FUCKING FAULT (also partly my dad’s because I was genuinely no longer expecting to go out of town this weekend because he was taking so long with the arrangements, so I had started to assume that oh, I’ll just have a normal week this week, and NOW I think I’ll even have to try to do some work this weekend???? Which is bullshit, but also depends on WHETHER I CAN KEEP MYSELF ON FUCKING TASK TOMORROW because I would REALLY LIKE TO LEAVE MY COMPUTER AT HOME (but actually probably can’t if I’m supposed to get comments to the team back by Thursday and tomorrow is full. So. Fuck))

[kasha-formerlydrabbletastic]

Blowing Off Steam

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Things have always been tense between the reader and Bucky, but what happens when things come to a head?

Word count: 4,269

Warnings: Mature readers only 18+ - minors do not interact! Vaginal sex, oral sex (m receiving), fingering, Dom/sub themes (who doesn’t love a bratty sub), unprotected sex (always use contraception), swearing.

.

.

.

.

“You’re lucky I saved your ass!”

“Well, no one fucking asked you to, did they?”

“No, so it looks like I’m not such a fucking prick after all, eh, Y/N?”

“Nope. You’re still a fucking prick, Bucky. Nothing in this world will ever make me change my mind about it either.”

“Need I remind you that -”

“Oh, shut up, the both of you!”

Steve’s voice cuts through the argument, effectively rendering the pair of you mute. It's surprising how long it's taken someone to crack, given the fact that your argument with Bucky started about an hour ago when the team entered the quinjet.

"Every goddamn time you're around each other you gotta argue about something," he continues, holding the attention of most of the team. "I don't want to hear another fucking word out of either of you for the rest of the ride home."

"Good job, Dad," Tony quips.

"But Bucky -"

"But Y/N-"

The pair of you speak at the same time, but Steve cuts you off again.

"Not. Another. Word." He punctuates each word with a jab of his authoritative pointer finger into the air between you. "This is the end of it. Silence. Now."

It takes a moment as you wrestle with the impulse to protest, but you ultimately sit back into your seat, folding your arms tightly over your chest. Bucky seems to do the same, his expression grumpy as ever as the two of you lock eyes.

"Fuck you," you mouth, extending a middle finger toward him.

"Fuck you," he counters silently.

You roll your eyes, settling back once more.

There has never been any real explanation, but from the moment you met him, you and Bucky have locked horns. He's stubborn, pigheaded, so full of himself and the way he operates that you can't help but be annoyed by him.

Then again, a good number of the team are cursed with the same qualities but you seem to get along quite well with them.

What is it about Bucky?

***

Per Steve's demand, there wasn't a single word passed between you and Bucky the rest of the way home. You stripped yourself of your gear after Steve's Dad Moment before sitting back and allowing yourself to take a nap the rest of the way home in your t-shirt and tactical pants. It wasn't until you got into the compound and to your desk in the team's shared office that any of your frustration boiled over again.

"Fucking asshole," you muttered between gritted teeth as you glanced over at Bucky's empty desk; his paperwork sits on the surface, needing to be done, but the man himself is nowhere to be found. Granted you are the only one at your desk doing paperwork.

Or so you thought.

"Thinking about me again?" you hear him say behind you.

You swivel in your chair to face him, his face smug as ever as steam rises up from the two mugs of coffee he holds.

"Well, not everything is about you, Bucky," you say. "Believe it or not."

"I would believe it if it were true," he grins; you make to reply, but he carries on. "I was gonna give this to you as a peace offering," he says, gesturing with one of the mugs of coffee, "but I don’t think you’ve learned Steve's lesson yet. So I'm just gonna keep it for myself. I am so tired, anyway."

He strides toward his desk, swaggering with each step, and it's almost as if you can't help the knee-jerk reaction of sticking your foot out into his path. His feet get caught up with yours, tripping him up enough that he loses grip of the mugs and stumbles forward; the mugs smash on the floor, but Bucky's reflexes refuse to let him fall too. He straightens up quickly, turning on his heel and staring daggers at you.

"Enjoy your coffee, Sergeant Barnes," you chuckle.

"What the fuck?" Bucky shouts.

"Oh, I'm sorry," you begin, wanting to taunt him but you get no further.

"Y/N, Bucky."

The two of you turn to Steve, who has finally returned to the office dressed in a basic t-shirt and jeans. He is more stern than you've ever seen him, standing with his arms crossed and his expression disappointed. He is very much the captain with his stance, staring the two of you down as if you were naughty children.

"Clean this up and then meet me in the conference room," he directs, his voice low and tone ominous.

You watch as he leaves, then switch your gaze to Bucky; you don't know what's about to happen, but something tells you Steve has had enough of the bullshit. It's possible you're about to lose your spot on the team, you think, and panic fills your chest as you stand from your chair, ignoring Bucky to the fullest as you reach for a trash can.

"Fuck," you murmur, picking up shards of mug and tossing them into the bin.

Bucky appears shortly after with several towels in hand, wiping up the coffee and smaller pieces before just chucking them into the bin, too.

With the mess cleaned up, the two of you silently march to the conference room where Steve sits at the head of the table.

"Oh, good," he says sarcastically, "you two managed to work together and accomplish something in a timely fashion, how about that?"

You take your seat next to him, wanting to ask what this is about but knowing full well what he's about to say. Bucky sits opposite you, quiet and brooding, and you feel a lurch of annoyance in your belly. You roll your eyes again, looking to Steve, trying to convey in your eyes the question, "How long do I have to stay here with him?" Steve doesn't look at you, though, his eyes fixed on his folded hands in front of him before he speaks.

"I don't know what it is about the two of you being around each other, but whatever it is, you need to cut it out," he says. "It's detrimental to the team working as a whole, not to mention it is fucking irritating."

Something in you rises to be defensive, but another, more rational side begins to kick in, keeping your mouth shut for a moment.

"The number of complaints I get from everyone else is almost ridiculous, guys. And it's only a matter of time before the two of you are bickering like an old married couple and someone gets hurt because you're not giving your full attention."

You had been so caught up with how much you and Bucky annoyed each other that not much else in your mind spared the time to think about how it might affect the team and your missions. Steve is right - and you know it - that one of these days, you and Bucky will be going at it and one of you will slip. You won't necessarily be the one who suffers, but it's likely that if the two of you continue on with your childish back-and-forth, you might lose track of a target, lose a mission, or worse, lose a teammate. With that thought, shame floods you, and you sit back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest and gritting your teeth to keep from saying anything stupid.

"With that being said," Steve continues, "you two need to figure this out as soon as possible. What really gets me is that you're both so valuable to the team, but you let your bullshit get in the way of your effectiveness." Steve glances at the door, his expression shifting ever so slightly. "Actually... I'm gonna leave you two here for a minute, something just came up."

The slightest surge of panic rears in your chest as Steve gets up from his chair. You watch him incredulously as he leaves you here with Bucky, closing the door behind him. If you're not mistaken, though, you hear the door lock and your panic peaks just a little more.

You rise from your seat, following Steve's footsteps to the door and trying the handle; it doesn't budge.

"Fuck," you mumble. "FRIDAY, unlock the door, please."

"I'm sorry, Y/N," FRIDAY replies, "the orders are to keep the door locked for the next thirty minutes, barring an emergency."

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" you grumble, rubbing the palms of your hands into your eyes.

You almost don't register it, but you hear Bucky chuckle, a quiet laugh that brings your attention to him.

"What's funny about this?" you demand, just as quietly.

He sits back in his chair, strangely relaxed given that he's locked into the room with you. There's genuine amusement in his expression as he lounges, setting his hands on top of his head.

"Typical Steve," he says, looking at you with a sparkle in his eye. "Thinking he can save everyone."

You don't say anything, but shrug helplessly in agreement - probably agreeing with Bucky for the first time since you've known him.

"I guess he doesn't realize that he can't save everyone," you mutter, sitting back down.

Bucky shrugs this time. "That thought has never even occurred to him, I can promise you that."

Sparing a glance at Bucky, you fall into silence, unsure of what to say. He doesn't offer anything either, his smile slowly fading as the seconds tick on. The air thickens around you, the awkwardness growing more ungainly the longer neither of you speak. Though, it's possible that the whole thirty minutes have elapsed or that it's only been a few seconds before you figure out something to say.

"I'm sorry I tripped you earlier," you say quietly.

Bucky had been staring at the table, but he brings his gaze to you, studying you with a curiosity he has never once shown you before. He seems to take his time before he replies.

"I accept your apology," he says, leaning forward and putting his elbows on the table. "I'm sorry for... everything."

The moment hangs there, seconds ticking by as the two of you study each other; now that you look at him, finally confronting the reasons why you tease and antagonize him, you figure that maybe he's not always so grumpy-looking. There's a sparkle in his blue eyes, something witty and sweet that you've never allowed yourself to notice before. He's got a strong jaw, pretty pink lips, and a smile to die for. At once, it clicks why you've been so eager to step on every one of his nerves.

Something shifts in his expression, and he pushes his chair back, standing up. He doesn't take his eyes from you as he circles the table, but you push your chair back, too, taking after his lead. By the time he reaches you, you stand, facing him as the space between you shrinks.

Then, as if magnets pull you together, the pair of you collide; Bucky's flesh fingers curve around the back of your head, cradling it as he lowers his lips to yours. Despite how out of the blue this is, you melt into him, your hands finding his waist and pulling him close. His kiss is warm, his body taut under your touch as his other arm curls around your body, pressing your chests together. Your skin tingles in every place it meets his as the kiss deepens, each of you parting your lips for the other as your tongues explore new territory.

Then, as if your bodies can't get close enough, Bucky leans forward, his hands gripping your thighs as he lifts you onto the table. He doesn't once break the kiss, but as soon as you're settled, his hips knock your knees apart. Instinctively, your legs wrap around him, urging him closer to you. Your arms curl around his neck, too, making sure he doesn't get too far away from you. He responds, taking you in his arms in kind.

You don't know how long it lasts, and you don't care, especially when his lips stray, tracing your jaw and finding your pulse.

"Oh, Bucky," you sigh, your skin on fire from his touch.

"James," he says quietly against your neck.

For a moment, you pull back, staring into his eyes and smiling.

"James," you acknowledge, and he smiles too.

In the next second, though, a wickedness settles into his expression, a sly grin taking the sweet smile's place as his hands meet the button and fly of your pants. He pulls them open, his hand diving immediately into your panties.

"Fuck!" you gasp as his fingers slip between you lips, brushing over your clit to briefly dive into your heat.

"God damn," he groans. "Doll, you feel so good. You're so fucking wet for me."

You scoff, looking him dead in the eye. "Please. I'm sure if it were anyone else I'd still be just as wet."

"You sure about that?" he says, his eyes glittering with promise as he presses his fingertips to your clit, circling the singing nerves as if he's known how to all his life.

"Mmm," you hum, your fingers bunching into the front of his shirt as you pull him forward. "We'll just have to see, I guess."

"You're damn right," he says before crushing his lips to yours. He slips his fingers into you, his thumb working circles against your clit, and you moan into his mouth. "That's right, doll. I make you feel so fucking good, don't I?"

A sly smile of your own tugs at your lips as you pull your head back.

"Meh, I've had better."

He pauses for a moment, staring you in the face before he chuckles. He takes his hand from you as he uses his free hand to push you by the shoulder, urging you onto your back before he tugs your pants off, taking your panties with them.

"Spread those legs for me, Y/N," he orders softly, and you comply.

At once, his hand finds your heat again, his metal fingers diving in and curling against your g-spot as his flesh fingers work your clit. In no time at all, you writhe on the tabletop, the entirety of your energy focused on not coming, not giving in to his ego. It's no use, however, as he hits the right spots at the right time.

"Fuck!" you grunt, your toes curling as ecstasy explodes from your core; the orgasm rips through your body, rushing through your blood with a ferocity you've never known before as your heart pounds from your chest.

"I fucking told you, doll," Bucky teases, his hands slowing down before he removes them. "Look at you. All wrecked for me."

"You wish," you say, rising up onto your elbows to see Bucky's grin falter just slightly. "Why don't you really wreck me, James? Why don't you fuck the attitude out of me?"

Heat floods your body at the idea, but just then, Bucky smiles wider as the mischievous glint in his eyes seems to take him over completely.

"You want me," he begins slowly, his hands dropping to his belt, "to fuck," he undoes his belt, popping open the button on his pants, "the attitude," he pulls on the zipper, slipping his underwear down enough that his cock tumbles from its confines and into his hand, "out of you?"

Your eyes fix on his engorged, weighty flesh as he strokes himself, imagining what it would feel like to be split in half by it.

"You want it," he says; it's not a question at all, but an entirely accurate statement.

You meet his eyes once more to see the cockiest expression on his face.

"And what if I said yes?" you reply.

Bucky leans in, his lips close to yours.

"Beg me for it," he murmurs against your mouth.

"No," you say, pushing him away gently as you slip off the table; your hand just barely closes around his girth and strokes. "I won't beg for it." You get to your knees, coming face to face with his gorgeous cock. "But you will."

"You think so, Y/N?" he laughs, but moans the minute you take him into your mouth. "Fuuuuuuck."

You swirl your tongue around the head before taking him as far back into your mouth as you can. Bucky nearly whimpers the moment the tip enters the back of your throat and you swallow around him. It takes everything you've got to keep from laughing at him as he leans over, bracing himself on the table.

Bobbing your head along his shaft, you listen to him; he curses, making pleas to God as you work him up. He tries to hold it together, but the way you suck and lick and tease has him squirming. Before you know it, though, he yanks himself from you with a growl, picking you up off the floor and turning you around; his erection presses against your ass as he twines his fingers in your hair, pressing your hips against the table.

"Baby doll," he croons in your ear, his chest hard against your back. "You think you're so cute, eh? Just you wait, Y/N. Just you wait."

He presses you down onto the tabletop, his hand still gripping your hair. Almost instantly, you feel the tip of his cock brush your lips, sliding along your heat to press against your clit for just a moment. He does this a few times before he finally presses into your center.

The moment hangs in the air as your anticipation grows, your yearning to be filled finally being granted only Bucky doesn't continue. He stays, just the tip of his cock planted in you for a moment before it slips out again, and you let out the smallest whine.

"Oh, doll," he says, his tone mocking. "Did you want that? Did you want my big fat cock inside you?"

You collect your wits, unwilling to let him win.

"I bet you want to get inside me, James," you say, your hand finding his in your hair. "God, I bet you want to fuck me. I bet you've always wanted to fuck me, from the minute you met me."

He slips his cock along your heat again, and you bite your lip to keep from moaning as it meets your clit; he bounces his cock against it a few times before teasing it with gentle circles.

"I bet you've thought of nothing but this pussy since I joined the team," you continue, baiting him into giving in. "I bet that's why you're such a prick, because you could never have it. You wanna know what I think, James?"

"What do you think, Y/N?" he replies, replacing his tip back into your center as he leans over you, his face growing closer to yours.

"I think," you say, adjusting so you can see his face better, "that there have been so many times that you've imagined having me. Times when you found yourself imagining me in this exact position, with your dick buried inside me, and couldn't help but rub one out. You ever fucked yourself to the thought of me, James?"

Bucky chuckles. "Doll, you have no idea. But if we're placing bets, I bet you've done the same. You think I don't know? On all those missions we've been on, you think I didn't hear you fuck yourself in the next room? That I don't know that's how you blow off steam?"

You smile as he presses just a little further into your heat.

"Doll," he says, standing up and bringing you with him until your back arches against his chest, his lips brushing your ear as he continues, "you think I haven't heard you call my name?"

"Looks like we're at an impasse," you chuckle.

Bucky laughs too, dragging hot, wet kisses along your neck for a second.

"Nah," he says, letting go of your hair as he slowly curls his hand around your neck, pushing your head back onto his shoulder. "Because I've got the upper hand here."

"So you think," you quip as he presses just a little further into you; your body tenses, awaiting the full feeling of his cock.

"Oh, I know, Y/N," he says, retreating just a little. “I know for damn sure. Now, what do we say?”

“I don’t know, what do we say?”

He offers a dark chuckle as he pulls all the way out. “If you’re not gonna be a good girl, I won’t fuck you.”

“I wish I could believe you, Barnes,” you reply. “But seeing as how I haven’t complied with you yet and you’re still here with your hard-on poking me in the ass cheek, I just can’t take you all that seriously.”

“That’s fair,” he says before suddenly letting go of you. 

You turn around, fairly surprised as you watch him hitch his pants back up, putting his cock away.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you say with an incredulous laugh. 

“Well, I’m sitting back down until Steve gets back,” he says, checking the time. "There's still about fifteen minutes before he gets back."

Once more collecting your wits, you smile. With an idea coalescing in your brain, you stride to his side of the table, hopping up onto the tabletop right next to him to ensure that he sees everything you're about to work with.

"Well, then," you say, spreading your legs as your fingers meet your aching clit. "I hope you don't mind, but I'm a little worked up right now and I need to, as you said, blow off steam."

Bucky's smile falters as his eyes drop from yours to between your legs, watching you work. The very fact that he's watching sends another flood of arousal to your already dripping cunt, your need for release growing stronger by the second.

"Mmm," you hum, slipping your fingers into yourself.

Bucky doesn't look away once. On the contrary, he rises from his seat, looking pained as he witnesses your pleasure. You put on a show, your moans and whimpers growing more frequent; the move has the desired effect as Bucky's hand drops to the erection in his pants, palming it through the fabric.

"Fuck," he murmurs, yanking his pants down once more. He moves forward, hand around his cock to position himself inside you, but you were waiting for this; you lean forward, pressing your hand against his chest to stop his progress toward you.

"I'm sorry," you say, "but what are you doing?"

"I'm fucking you," he says, stepping forward once more, but you hold your ground.

"Says who?"

"Says me."

He moves forward again, but you still keep him at bay.

"And what do we say, James?" you purr.

"What?" he replies.

You lean closer to him, your lips almost brushing his as you say, "Beg me for it."

"Are you serious?" he says, getting impatient.

"Damn right I am," you reply.

Bucky struggles with it for a moment, but seems to decide to fold.

"Y/N," he says, stroking his cock, a drop of precum beading on the tip. "Please."

"Please what?" you reply, relishing in the frustration showing through his features.

"Please, please, let me fuck you."

You grin, satisfied that you won, as you let your hand slide around the back of his neck from his chest, pulling his mouth against yours as he immediately buries himself inside you.

"Ah!" you moan against his lips as he fills you to the hilt.

"God fucking dammit," he groans. "You feel so fucking good, Y/N."

At once, he begins thrusting, his hands holding tight onto your hips as he moves. You lean back onto one arm, your other hand finding your clit once again, pressing circles against yourself.

"Fuck, Y/N," he says, his thrusts growing quicker.

His cock drags along your g-spot, the perfect sensation to accompany your clitoral stimulation. In next to no time, you snap, your body bombarded by your next orgasm.

"Oh, fuck," Bucky says through gritted teeth as you pulse around him.

His grip tightens on you as his hips press quicker, harder than ever, before they stutter; he pulls out, his hand grasping his cock and stroking it until he comes. Spurts of cum land on your thigh, thick and warm, as Bucky tries to get his breathing under control, his forehead landing on your shoulder for support.

He takes a moment, straightening up once he’s gotten control of himself. As he backs away, his eyes fix on yours, a soft grin pulling at his lips. He puts himself back together, zipping and buttoning his pants deliberately.

“You win,” he says, holding his hands up in surrender. 

“I know,” you laugh, watching as he moves around the table to grab your pants and underwear from where he pulled them off of you. He walks them back to you, handing them over. “Clean it.”

Once more, his mischief is written all over his face as he bends down, using his tongue to mop up his mess. The sensation tingles along your thigh to your core, and you wish you had longer than just the thirty minutes allotted to the two of you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, staying put as he stands back up.

“Good boy,” you say, pulling his face to yours for a kiss.

“Looks like I’m your bitch now,” he says with a chuckle.

“Oh, doll,” you say, taking delight in the look on his face as you use his word. “It was bound to happen.”

[lavishedinjimin]

bts reaction -> you do something that upsets/angers them

woah! finally, a new reaction post?? 

(all gifs used are not mine!) 

Namjoon:

Well, well, well, what could you have possibly said to create an argument with Namjoon. He, for one, doesn’t like arguments. He would instead talk to you and settle all the problems without raising his voice.

But if the argument does get too far, he’s making sure that he gets his point across, even if his words might sting.

Namjoon sits on the edge of the bed, looking up at you who was standing in front of him with your arms crossed.

“I did nothing wrong, Y/n,” he states with a deep yet calm tone, “You didn’t tell me that I had to run errands. How would I when I’m in the studio with the boys?”

He raises his brow when you stomp your feet on the wooden floor. Eyeing you up and down, his blood slowly rises when he feels like you’re acting insensitive.

“But you knew that we had no groceries left!”

Namjoon suppresses his anger like he always does, “Stop being selfish, Y/n. Tell me, who’s paying your bills?” he points his chin out.

“Hey, I pay half of our bills!”

“There you go. That just means you also shouldn’t be depending on me so much when I’m busy doing work, okay?”

(aln: this gif is so fucking hot istg i’m on my knees) 

Seokjin:

You feel the other side of the bed dip, signaling that someone had come into bed with you. Peeking your eyes open just slightly, you feel your body relaxing as you finally saw Seokjin after a long, hard day.

“Hey, darling,” you whisper, scooting closer to him to hug his body. Seokjin murmurs something under his breath, but you didn’t quite grasped what it was. 

Seokjin moves around, furrowing his eyebrows as a groan escapes his mouth. “Please…”

Ignoring the word, you instantly scatter his face with kisses, kissing his forehead and down to his plump lips.

“Not now, Y/n.”

“Why?” you pout, “lemme kiss you. I haven’t seen you all day.” You continue your mischief on him, placing open-mouthed kisses all over.

With eyes still closed, he pushes you away with both hands.

Shocked, you look at him in awe of what he just did.

“That’s so rude,” you scoff.

“I just want to sleep, Y/n. I’m tired and I don’t want to talk.”

Silence fills the room as you sullenly observe him pull the covers over his body. He rubs his face with his hands as he lets go of an exasperated sigh. “Get over it. I had a bad day, okay? I just want silence and a night of good sleep, that’s all I want right now.”

You know how Seokjin gets mad. His words are his weapon. You think that it’s much better leaving him alone than further pushing his buttons. Tomorrow will be another day.

Yoongi:

Yoongi doesn’t get angry that often. It’s quite impressive how he can calm himself down and avoid the anger. But it’s also alarming – because whenever he does get angry, he can become outright terrifying and a guilt-tripping madman.

“Is it because I don’t talk to you enough?” Yoongi alarms through the phone, the rage in his voice evident even though you can’t see his face. “Huh? Is it because I don’t give you enough attention?”

“It’s not like that! You have to understand that he’s just a friend!” You grip the phone tighter in your damp hand. 

“I bet that guy treated you better, hm? I bet that’s the reason.” Yoongi’s voice was filled with bitter sarcasm as he speaks. The tone of his voice makes you clench your fist in annoyance. It was clear that he was manipulating you with his words, but there’s nothing you can do to stop him.

“You know what? Whatever, Y/n. You do whatever the fuck you want. I don’t care. But get ready for when I get home, you’re gonna get some serious fucking punishment.”

There was a long, thick silence after his sentence. You can feel your heartbeat thump loudly in your chest, upset in both yourself and in Yoongi.

“It isn’t my intention to upset you,” you sigh, “you’re the one that I care about. Always.”

“Then show it to me.”

You gasped. Are your actions not enough for him to believe you? 

Hoseok:

Hoseok can be immensely intimidating when angry. Those eyes that can show the sweetest candy smile, with a single wrong move, they can turn into the most devilish gaze someone has ever seen.

Even his members find him scary whenever he’s mad.

As you watch the band practice their choreography for their performance next week, you couldn’t keep your eyes on Hoseok. The way his body just moves smoothly without any imperfections at all, it was clear that he was made for dancing and performing on stage.

Park Jimin calls off for a break and the members rush to their respective corners to catch their breath. Hoseok walks to the other side of the practice room where he sits down. Until suddenly, Jimin comes to your direction with a sly smirk on his face.

“Did you like the choreo?” he says, voice sort of raspy and out of breath. You giggle, “Yes. It was fire.”

“Mhm…” he places his hands on the table in front of you and leans forward, making your eyes widen. What is he doing…?

His eyes were almost slitted, licking his lips. You can’t help but notice small droplets of sweat trickling down from his temples and to his jawline, and how the light reflex the dampness of his neck. “Were you watching me?”

“H-Huh?” You stutter, mouth agape. “Yeah. You’re so good, Jimin, as always,” you respond while tucking your hair behind your ear. 

Jimin’s grin widens, satisfied with your answer. Before he can give a verbal reply, Hoseok was right behind him and he swiftly pushes Jimin aside. He gives him a ‘look’ paired with a shake of his head. He whispers something to Jimin as he walks away.  

Hoseok lifts his chin whilst he looks down at you with those menacing dark brown eyes. “Are you enjoying your time here?”

“Well,” you gulp, “Yes.”

He looks away for a second, brushing his hair back. You can hear that he took a deep sigh. Placing his forearms on the table, he stares directly into your eyes. His irises burn deep into you as he takes a heavy breath, “You know how possessive I am of you, Y/n. Only—” he lifts his right hand and caresses your cheek, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip, “only look at me.”

Jimin:

Jimin was clicking away on his laptop as he sits on the barstool, eyes glued on the screen for he didn’t even notice that you’ve walked up behind him. Slowly, you wrap your arms around his waist. His body jumps in utter shock.

“Babe,” he groans, “don’t do that again. Don’t surprise me like that.”

His tone was plain and sharp, bringing an attitude that signifies that he is annoyed.

Perhaps he needs more love and attention?

Inhaling his scent, you rest your cheek against his back. The sounds of the keys clicking were slowly becoming irritating, so you snatch his hands away to hold them in your grasp.

“Wha—Y/n!” he yells, but you unrightfully ignore him.

“C’mon, baby. Just rest for a while and come cuddle with me instead—”

“Cuddle?” he turns the stool around so he faces you. He scoffs, “You really want us to cuddle right now? When I’m in the middle of work?” he raises his voice at you, making you feel small. Trying your best not to be hurt by his razor-sharp timbre, you stand your ground. “Stop fucking annoying me and let me do my job, okay?”

“I’m just trying to—”

“—Just trying to help, yeah.” He rolls his eyes. “Please just, just leave me alone for a couple of minutes.”

But he will feel so fucking bad afterward, though. Jimin lets his emotions get the best of him and he used you to let it all out. You understand him, nonetheless. He is the type to bottle up his feelings. But deep down, you wish he would tell you everything that’s been bothering him, without having to keep them for himself. 

Taehyung:

Taehyung rarely gets mad at you. But whenever he does, he’s quick to apologize and forget about the situation because he doesn’t want to cause a much bigger problem.

So, stealing his food from the fridge wouldn’t annoy him, right?

He was supposed to come home early for tonight, but he informed you that he’ll be a little bit late because of traffic.

Although your hunger couldn’t wait any longer.

Taking the box of food out of the fridge, you did not hesitate to gobble them all up to feed your rumbling stomach. You know for a fact that he’s going to empathize with you anyway.

As he comes home, though, you weren’t still finished and he stops his tracks when he sees that you were eating his meal.

“Y/n!” he gasps, “This one is yours!” he says, raising the takeout box he bought on the way home. “You said you wanted Chinese, didn’t you?”

Uh-oh…

You slowly stand up from the dining table, walking your way out of the area with his food still in your hands with a little cheeky grin.

Taehyung pouts as he whines out your name, “I hate it when you do this! I was craving for that!” He stomps his foot, “This is so upsetting, you know.”

You feel your heart clench at that, “I’m sorry…”

“Come here, you!” Taehyung all of a sudden, runs to catch you, signaling your fight or flight response. You shriek and dashed all around the dining room, trying to avoid Taehyung as much as possible. He had his arms sprawled across like an eagle, cackling.

Once you let him catch you, he hugs your body tightly in his grasp. “Hmm? You’re so naughty, babe. You know I can’t get mad at you for too long.” He grabs the food box away from you and sets it aside. He whispers, “But don’t do this again.”

Jungkook:

“I mean, look at her, Jungkook. Doesn’t her face irritate you?” you inquire at him, showing an Instagram picture of that one girl you despise. She had her whole butt on screen, tongue out, showing off her long acrylic nails.

Sitting on the couch beside you, Jungkook purses his lips and looks at the screen. “Hmm.” He says plainly.

“Goddamn, whenever I see her in real life my saliva turns sour, y’know? Ugh¸ I hate her so much.” You can feel your nerves rile up, throwing your feet on the coffee table in front of you.

Jungkook speaks, “What has she done to you?” he says in a monotone voice.

“Uh,” you turn to look at him, raising an eyebrow, “Why?”

He shrugs his shoulders, “Just wondering.”

“Okay, fine,” You roll your eyes, “She has done nothing, all right? But—”

He laughs unexpectedly, making you crease your forehead both in frustration and perplexity.

Jungkook himself was never the type to create arguments or say what he feels out loud. He would most likely internalize his thoughts and opinions and waits for the perfect timing to affront.

But if there’s a moment where he a situation feels unfair, he’s not afraid to stand up for what he believes.

“You know that’s wrong, darling,” he sighs, scooting over to you. He swings his right arm around your shoulder and tugs your figure closer. “There’s no reason to hate someone without having a definitive reason. C’mon, just ignore her if she bothers you so much.”

You frown, “But…”

“But what? Baby, if you do this one more time, I’ll be very upset. More upset in you than I am right now.”

Immediately, you jerk your head to look at him. With puppy dog eyes, you apologize, “Sorry.”

[lovestrucked-again]

Heated Arguments | Mafia

Profile [Part 1] [Part 2] Genre: Fluff, Angst,  Pairing: Member X reader - (platonic / romantic love) Warning: Bit scary concepts??? Swearing A/N: It makes more sense if you read the profile first to know the relationship established. Wrote it in mind as caring platonic love but some can be interpreted as love love so up to you. Let me know if you like anyone’s in particular xx

Obviously got carried away with a few, whoops. 

Taeyong It was just the wrong time to ask. Taeyong was already pissed from the other gang attempting to make a bargain over your safety. Obviously you didn't know this, so when you told him you were leaving on a one-week holiday trip without prior warning, he was furious.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He fires back immediately.

“Why not?” You ask, annoyed with his demanding use of tone.

“Just do as I say goddamn it,” he yells, slamming his fist against the wall. You didn't say anything, stunned at his sudden outburst. It took a minute for you to regain your composure and you back out of his office straight away, walking directly to your room.

A few minutes later and there’s a soft knock at your door. You open the door slightly, only enough for you to peek through the gap and see who it is. Catching eye contact with Taeyong you immediately try pulling the door back, but he’s faster. He opens it completely so your standing in front and he pulls you in for a hug before your able to speak. 

“Sorry baby, I shouldn't have yelled at you,” he says softly, running his fingers through your hair, “I’m just a bit stressed and it’s not safe at the moment for you to be alone outside.”

“Did something happen?” You carefully ask.

“How about you consider postponing the trip for just a bit?” He suggests, not wanting you to know the real reason why he wasn't going to let you go.

Taeil “He’s not like that!” You tell him, emotionally drained from the ongoing argument. Taeil had come into your room a few minutes ago, wanting to confront you about the boy you were currently seeing.

“You don't know that” He sighs, his hands on his knees as he leans forward on the seat placed at your desk.

“And you do?” You ask, expecting him to be stumped at the question.

“Yeah I do.”

“You can’t base him off guys in general, that's just hypocritical.”

“I had a background check on him done already Y/N” he tells you, leaning back against the chair, “He’s not a nice guy.”

“YOU DID WHAT?!” You scream, almost falling face first onto the floor as you got off your bed, completely pissed at the invasion of privacy.

“He isn’t a good guy Y/N.”

“You can’t just invade my social life like that!” You shout, heading straight to your bathroom ensuite, “I’m going to go get you proof right now” You tell him, quickly brushing through the locks in your hair for a presentable manner.

Taeil lets out an exasperated sigh, finally getting off the chair to walk over to the open door. “Y/N I said no and I mean it. You’re not seeing him again.”

“I can prove it to you! He isn’t like that I swear.” You plead, your heart starting to break at the thought.

“Princess I wish he wasn’t too.” He murmurs, bringing you into a hug as you start bawling your eyes out.

Johnny The grasp he had on your wrist was throbbing and you were starting to get frightened. His hold tightening around by instinct as his voice rises, unaware of the pressure he was holding you with. When the grip became overwhelmingly painful, you let out a yelp, prying at his hand to loosen it.

“You’re hurting me..” you whisper, struggling in his grip. Johnny follows your gaze down to your wrist and immediately pulls away noticing the change in colour as the blood is finally able to flow again.

“Fuck sorry baby,” he says, his tone immediately turned soft as he grabs your arm much more delicately this time, and rolls it over to see the redness and handprints stained. You watch as he starts blowing on your wrist while running a hand through his hair, his face clearly pained.

“It’s okay,” you mumble, “it doesn't hurt.”

“I’m sorry I didn't realise how hard my grip was.” He says, using his thumb to rub over and soothe the pain. “Sorry I shouldn't have yelled at you either.” He whispers, placing a gentle kiss on your wrist as he pulls you in for a hug.  

Yuta “Why are you here?” Yuta asks, walking into your room after giving a gentle knock.

“Where am I meant to be? At the restaurant waiting for you? Even though you hadn’t shown up after almost 2 hours?” You asked rhetorically, keep your eyes locked on your phone as you leaned against your bed frame.

“You should’ve told me you went home! I went there and I had to find out through the restaurant manager that you left.” He points out, frustrated at your lack of communication.

“Why do I have to tell you that?” You ask, letting out a snicker.

His voice comes out harsher this time, catching onto your hint “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You didn't tell me you were going to be late – well more like not show up.” You give him a glance, clicking the off button on your phone “So why should I?”

“I went as soon as I could. I had an emergency meeting and I tried to text you but my phone was dead.” He tries to keep his voice steady, not wanting to add fuel to the argument.

“That’s what you always say.”

“It’s not my fault, I can’t schedule meetings based around you.”

“Today was the third time this happened in only the last two weeks! You keep setting up a date and you either come late or not at all!”

Yuta gives you an eye roll “Sorry I’m actually busy working! I don't have so much free time like you do.”

Your hand grips onto the pillow beside you, squeezing on it so hard as you fight the urge to peg it at Yuta standing by the door.

“Then don’t promise things you can’t follow. It’s simple.” You mutter out, your voice steady through your clenched teeth.

“Are you serious? You still think promises are that special Y/N?” He sighs, knitting his eyebrows together. The last phrase comes out in a mutter as he keeps his voice low, but you’re able to pick it out, “Why are you so goddamn stupid?”

“Get out.”

Your vision becomes blurry as you blink back the tears slowly creeping up in your eyes. Yuta stares at you, his expression quickly changing to regret as he realised you had heard him.

“Y/N I didn-”

“Can you leave?” You ask, your head hanging low as you hear his footsteps approach your bed

“I’m sorry – I wasn't thinking.” He murmurs, taking a seat beside you as the bed softly dips, his hands reaching for yours which are locked in your lap. “Don’t cry.” He whispers, stroking the palm of your hand as you tilt your head back, blinking the tears away.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” You mutter, looking him straight in the eye.

He chuckles, knowing you weren’t deeply affected by his previous words, “I know, I’ll make it up to you okay?”

You hum in response and he places a gently kiss on your palm, thankful for your forgiving nature. 

Doyoung “Why are you thinking so negatively like that?” You ask, frustrated at his outlook on the topic.

“I’m being realistic Y/N.” He tells you.

“You’re being pessimistic not realistic, there’s a difference.” You argue. “Since when do-”

“Y/N lately your becoming more of a struggle to look after and it’s getting to the point where we can’t keep babysitting you anymore.” He says, finally exhausted. He isn’t purposefully mean but the words he uses and points he makes form in his head to fast and they’re said aloud without him even realising it. As your chair screeches against the floor when you stand, the words finally register through his head.

“Are you calling me a burden?” You ask meekly, voice starting to crack.

“What? no I-,”

“Why didn't you just tell me that earlier?”

“Y/N.”

“I’ll be in my room if you need me.” You tell him, turning around to leave.

He grabs your wrist right as your about to walk off, swinging you around and pulling your body into his. “I’m sorry that’s not what I meant.” He whispers, his hand stroking the top of your head as he keeps an arm wrapped around your shoulder. The tears held back in your eyes threatening to spill as you stare closely at the fabric of his shirt, your arms fallen at your sides. “You’re not a burden Y/N” He mumbles, trying to hide his own voice crack as he curses at himself for implying such a thing.

Jaehyun “Why did you agree?” You question, watching Jaehyun hang up the phone call.

“They offered what we couldn’t refuse.” He replies, shrugging of your comment.

“Seriously? Do you have no common sense!?” You ask, stunned at the stupid deal you had overheard.

“You shouldn't be in this room Y/N, I’ve told you before.” He sighs, rolling the office chair closer to his desk before he leans against the backrest, letting out a deep breath.

“You’re going to get yourself killed if you go alone!” You exclaim, shocked at the agreement they just made, “Don't go!”

“I have to go.”

“No you don't!” You bark back, “It’s obviously a trap!”

“It doesn't matter, you don’t have a say in this.” He groans, rolling his eyes in your direction. “You don’t even know what’s going on Y/N so don't worry about it.”

The possibilities of all the worst case scenarios come flooding through your mind as you imagine him facing an enemy group alone, coming home injured, shot or maybe not at all. You storm up to his desk and slam your hands against the table, losing your temper.

“Then tell me!” You demand

“No.”

“Why? Am I not part of this household?!” You ask incredulously, your eyes locked on his, waiting for a response.

“No, you’re not!” Jaehyun yells back, flinging his chair behind as he stands up suddenly, his figure towering over you as you keep his gaze, tilting your head up to match his. “You don’t get a say in this because you’re not part of this group.”

The tension in the room builds as Jaehyun realises what his just said, but it only triggers you further.

“Then I’ll leave!” You bark back, your voice seething with fury

“Are you serious?!” He groans, annoyed. “Y/N stop being so impulsive.”

“Why? It’s not like you care! You guys all treat me like an outsider! You never tell me anything!” You scream, your voice cracking as you finally break his gaze, lowering your head to avoid him seeing the tears forming in your eyes.

“I- It’s just better you don't know okay?” He sighs, softening his tone as he watches your shoulders drop, exhausted at the ongoing argument, “It’s safer like this.”

“Why?”

“Baby please just trust me on this okay?” He murmurs, walking around the table to stand in front of you. He wraps his arms around you, bringing your body closer to his as your forehead rests against his chest.

“Don’t go alone at least.” You mumble, and he gives a soft hum in response, promising you he’ll listen.

Jungwoo You and Jungwoo had a deal. He allowed you to go with him to one of the quieter bars that he was supervising for the night as long as you stayed in his line of sight. The other condition was that you avoided all possible contact with everyone.

Not many men came up to you, not because you weren’t attractive, but because they knew you weren’t here alone. However, a man who didn't recognise you took a seat beside you, making casual small talk. You looked around for Jungwoo before deciding that having a small chat wouldn't hurt. The man even paid for your drink and scooted closer, trying to flirt with you as you were oblivious to his approach.

“You’ve got a little something on your lip” He whispered, leaning in closer to you. You immediately scooted back, your chair dragging on the floor. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you back down onto your seat. “Where are you going?”

Before your able to respond, a figure comes to your side, pulling you up by your hand. “Home is where she’s going.”

“Mind your own business.” The guy scowls, standing up to meet Jungwoo’s height.

“She’s my business.” Jungwoo smirks, bringing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you to his side. The guy gives you a glare, fed up with the situation and he storms off. Before you’re able to thank Jungwoo, he drags you through the crowd, heading straight to the staff only area.

“What did I say about talking to strangers?” His voice rising as he speaks. “Do you know how dangerous things could’ve got if I didn't come in time?”

“The guy started talking to me, I didn't want to seem impolite.” You tell him, shrugging off his anger.

“It's a club Y/N, there’s no good intentions here.” He groans, clearly regretting his decision of bringing you along.

“He didn't seem very dangerous!” you argue back,

“He wo- you know what, let’s just talk about this later, I need to go have a chat with someone first.” He looks down at his phone, typing into his messages before directing you to the couch of the quiet room. “Wait here till I’m done.” He tells you, checking the time on his watch, intending to finish things a little earlier than planned.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble out, feeling a little guilty as you realise the severity of the situation.

“It's okay, I should’ve stayed closer by you tonight.” He softens, changing his tone back to his usual subtle voice. He gives you a quick peck on your forehead and heads back to the door, turning the handle open “I’ll be back in a second and we can go home okay?”

Mark “Come in.”

You turn the door knob to the side, pushing the door open with the side of your hip as you enter. Mark had skipped dinner and it was already midnight, you knew he hadn’t left his room to eat anything so you thought it’d be better to bring something for him.

Usually, whenever you did this, Mark was always very thankful, shoving down the fried rice or the 2 minute noodles you made as he told you what he was busy working on. However today was a little different. When you stood at his side you could tell how stressed he had been. Still dressed in his pyjamas, having not changed throughout the day, his hair unbrushed and glasses resting on his nose bridge. The screen split into two separate documents, one in Korean, the other in English. A pile of paperwork resting under his chin.

“I made you something to eat.” You tell him, leaning the tray you had bought up from the kitchen at the edge of the table as you try to make some room on his desk.

“Don’t touch that!” He yells, his hands quickly stopping you from moving anything.

“You haven’t stepped out of your room like all day and you skipped dinner.” You tell him, ignoring his words as you shut his laptop screen, placing the tray on it. “You need to eat something.”

“What the fuck?” He snaps, his eyes finally meeting yours.

“It’s unhealthy to skip meals.” You explain to him, keeping your tone steady despite his aggressive voice. Mark rarely lost his temper, and it was even rarer for him to bring it out on you.

“Y/N I’m not going to starve to death if I skip one meal.” He groans, picking up the tray and forcing it towards you, “I have feet, I can get it myself.”

“You can afford to take a break and eat.” You push again, placing the tray on the paperwork instead.

“Like you’d know, just let me do my work!” He yells, pushing the tray back into your hands. You stand still, not wanting to further stress him out but still deeply hurt at how he was treating your kind intentions.

“Wow sorry for caring.” You reply sarcastically, keeping your voice low as you turned, ready to storm out the room. “I’ll just leave you to it.”

“Y/N wait” He calls out. You turn around, catching the apologetic look in his expression as he sighs, rubbing his face harshly in his hands. “I’m sorry, I shouldn't have yelled.”

He gets up from his seat, walking over to you and takes the tray from you.  

“Thought you didn't want it.” You shot back, watching him walk back to his desk.

“You’re right, I’m hungry.” He confesses, “And it looks appetising.”

Haechan It wasn’t the first time you guys fought, nor is it considered strange. However, this was the first time that things had go so heated over a conversation. Haechan being more of an unreasonable and stubborn person, he wouldn’t let the topic go.

“You learnt the wrong rules” He argues, searching online for the correct instructions on UNO and the colour rules.

“We always played by these rules!” You yell back in frustration, your hands so close to pulling out his hair, wanting to tug all the roots out in anger. 

“We never did!!” He fights back, throwing the cards onto the table, letting them fly across and land wherever.

“Did you get hit or something? What’s wrong with your memory idiot!” You scream, pushing the chair back as you marched off.

“Hit with your stupidity perhaps!” He snaps, rolling his eyes as he marches off the other way.

You’d both end up storming off to your own rooms, slamming the doors loudly and startling the other members. In the end, the situation would blow over after a couple of hours or if someone (mainly Doyoung) comes over and drags you both out to apologise.

[sarcasti-cally]

birthday surprise

so, koganegawa’s birthday is today, July 9th, and um.. where’s the love for my boy kogane? i felt like this was the perfect time to give him some love 🥰 ❤️ ❤️ (and to quench my thirst) this is the first time i’m ever writing a fic or even smut in general so please be nice :,) just gonna casually tag @bokutokoutarou since you wanted to be there when i post my first ever fic so here i go. 🚶‍♀️

dom!koganegawa x reader????? woahh

s m u t

words: 3063

Drool was slowly pooling from your mouth as you just woke up, the sun beaming straight into your eyes, causing your eyelashes to flutter and flip your body to face away from the sunlight. Before you could close your eyes again, you reached out for your phone on your pillow and went to check the time, which is a routine you developed without noticing. 

1:53, you noted. But, you immediately stood up and wiped the drool from the corners of your mouth to realize that it was July 9th. Shit. You cursed at yourself in your head while frantically throwing on whatever you saw. 

Black shorts and a baggy t-shirt representing your school, Date Tech. You went to the bathroom to see what you overall really looked like taking into consideration that your hair must have been a bird’s nest from moving a lot in your sleep. 

“Huh.”

You didn’t think the shirt you chose to wear would cover your shorts, but you shrugged it off. Hopefully some idiot doesn’t think that you’re not wearing anything under it. Thankfully, your hair wasn’t all that much of a mess- i mean, it was still a bit frizzy and in a loose ponytail, but who really cares? Definitely not you.

You threw on some white crew socks with some black shoes you saw under your bed. While you struggled a bit to put your shoes on, you heard something coming from your bed. It was your phone vibrating. 

“I swear to god, if it’s some annoying son of a bitch-“ you stood up and tripped since you were trying to put on your other shoe standing up while your foot’s in the air. As you peered over your phone, you saw that it was a notification from Koganegawa and you sighed in relief. 

When you had your shoe on you grabbed your phone and went to go and read what he messaged you.

“Hey, Y/N! I know that you might still be asleep, but i wanted to let you know that i’m having a birthday party which starts at around 4, and that you’re invited! I can’t wait to see you there. Even though it’ll be a small little party, i think you’ll REALLY enjoy it. Aone, Kaname, Futakuchi, and Sakunami will be there. I hope to see you there soon!” sent at 11:27 AM

As you read 11:27 AM your expression was covered in horror, but.. It could’ve been worse. For example, maybe it was sent at 9am and here you are just sitting on your ass, waking up at basically 2PM. You smiled a bit thinking of the scenario in your head, visualizing what you would act like if they actually happened. You quickly stopped yourself, though. something was a bit off in this text. You reread it at least 5 times to finally recognize what’s wrong with it. 

“uh kogane, you didn’t even give me the location” sent 2:07 PM

Sadly, you weren’t really the patient type and when 10 minutes had passed you started to get a bit antsy. Your leg was basically vibrating based off of how fast your foot was lighting tapping against the ground. 

Fuck it.

—————————

You were now furiously knocking on the door- at this point you don’t know if it was either knocking or punching it with the side of your fist. Like the idiot you were, you didn’t even try to use the door knob. When you were tired out from yelling and knocking on the door, that was the time when you decided to use it. 

And, it worked.

“Kogane! I’m coming in..” you slowly dragged out the n’s in the word “in” as if you were screaming “ready or not, here I come!” in a classic game of hide and seek. 

When you walked in, you could see streamers and balloons around the house, the little “Happy Birthday!” sign greeting you. Food was spread out in the kitchen, the dining room table was all set up with a birthday table cover and everything. You could clearly see the effort he put in based off of the mess he made in the living room. You could see the plastic bags the decorations must have came in when he bought them scattered around the living room. His house looked like a little kids birthday party, but in a good way. He really did go all out. The poor guy did this all by himself. You frowned at the thought, and then suddenly had a sly smirk on your face. 

You quickly took your shoes off and began to quietly walk around the house, wanting to surprise him and give him a big old innocent birthday hug. Now that the thought crossed your mind, you totally forgot to get him a birthday present while on the way here, but you didn’t know the party would be at his house- that could be your excuse. You nodded to yourself, agreeing with the thought. 

His home was oddly quiet, but you continued to walk around the house. Eventually, you came upon a door that was slightly opened and you peeked your head inside without hesitation. 

Koganegawa was slowly stroking his long, veiny cock with his right hand, his hips thrusting up into his fist every now and then. Some strands of his hair were stuck to the sides of his head due to the sweat that was forming on his body. The little groans he let out was causing your thighs to clench together, trying your hardest to not picture what he would look like between your legs. This dirty thought of yours caused you to let out a small moan, quickly slapping your hand against your mouth, hoping he didn’t hear. You slowly sat yourself on the ground, trying to even out your breaths since it was such a close call, but you were cut off when the door right beside you swung open. You screamed in surprise and fell on your back. You could clearly see Kogane’s unattended, throbbing cock against his boxers. Goddamn was it bigger up close.

“Uh.. Happy birthday?” you awkwardly announced, trying to break the cold, uncomfortable silence, waving both of your hands in a celebratory, jazz hands motion.

He grabbed your wrist, helping you off the ground and led you to his bed. He stood in front of you, hands on his hips staring at you, obviously expecting an answer. 

Instead of giving him an answer right away, you took this as a chance to admire the sight in front of you. His toned body was enough to make you drool, his abs glossed in sweat and goddamn.. his fucking thighs. They were pretty nice, not gonna lie, you smirked to yourself. Honestly, you wouldn’t mind if he just stood there all day. He should be put in a museum. Your eyes slowly went to his-

“Y/N! I’m still here! What were you doing outside of my door??” he yelled, hands out in front of him, expressing his question more through his movement. 

“Listen, I- You.. You didn’t answer my goddamn text!” you replied, your eyes darting to the other side of the room, trying your best to not make eye contact with him. “So i.. came to your house, and when you didn’t answer the door i just.. Walked right on in.” you were putting your best efforts to lighten the mood but it wasn’t exactly working as you hoped it would.

“Then you decided to watch me jack off my dick behind my door, too, right?”

“What else would i have been doing? fucking idiot..” your voice trailed off at the last part, not wanting him to hear. 

“Would you like to repeat what you said, Y/N?” he teasingly asked, cocking one of his eyebrows up. 

“Uh no, fuck off, yeah?” you attacked right back. You leaned forward, your elbow resting against your knee as your head rested in the palm of your hand. You stuck your tongue out at him like a child, waiting to see his reaction. 

He hummed in response, looking down at you with his arms crossed. “Y/N, are you even wearing anything under that?” You almost choked as you held in your laugh. I guess he was the idiot. 

“Yeah, I am. Do you think i’m stupid or something? I would never leave the house with no pants on. Bold of you to assume that.” his eyebrow was still in the same position as if he didn’t believe you. You stood up from the bed.

“Kogane, look” he tilted his head at you and you lifted your shirt up. He immediately looked away and you had to repeat yourself. “No, look at me, idiot! I’m wearing shorts, see?” he slowly turned his head towards you and he looked puzzled. This man is as stupid as an elementary schooler, you don’t know how he’s still alive by now. 

“So i’m guessing you have a birthday present for me?” he joked, but your mind clicked. It wasn’t your birthday hug idea, but something else. 

“Actually, yes, I do. Can you sit on the bed for me real quick?” he quickly sat on the bed, oblivious to what he’s getting himself into. 

You slowly got onto the bed and sat around him, your arms wrapping around his waist, your hands inching their way to his boxers.

“What are you-“ 

“You already know what i’m doing, it’s your birthday so just let it happen, okay?” he nodded with a gulp, and you continued your ministrations. 

Your left hand slowly lowered the boxers off of his legs, causing his dick to spring up against his stomach. He groaned at the feeling, which made you eager to continue even further. You didn’t expect for his dick to be so long. It was average girth but holy shit was it lengthy. Your right hand began to stroke his cock, slowly at first, immediately teasing the tip with your thumb, wiping the precum off and onto his shaft. Feeling him shiver against your body made your cheeks flush and had your right hand slightly shaking in excitement. He noticed this and took action by wrapping his large, rough hands against yours, guiding your hand up and down at a quicker pace than you had before. His moans were becoming more apparent and louder, signaling that he’s close to his release. Kogane’s hands never left yours as his grip tightened, going even faster. Feeling how eager he is to cum and just by watching him help you jack him off is making you even wetter than you were before. 

“God, Kogane you’re so goddamn cute..Feeling your hand against mine while you guide me to fuck your cock with my hand is so fucking hot..” you felt his cock twitch at your words and you smirked through your bright red cheeks, lowering your head against his dick and filling your mouth with his long cock. Kogane threw his head back in pleasure while pushing your head down against him, his cum filling your mouth, making you choke. You remain still, though, allowing him to wait out his release. 

He lifted your head up off of him and when he looked at you with his cum dripping down the sides of your mouth, he immediately became hard again. 

“Didn’t know you were that eag-“ you were cut off when Kogane grabbed you by the hips and threw you right under him. The way he towered over you made you want to cower under a blanket and hide, but at the same time it just turned you on even more. It was almost like a prey being hunted by predator scenario.

“Kogane what are you-“ the smirk on his face was like one you’ve never seen before.

“Oh, how the tables have turned.” the sly little dumb smirk he still had plastered on his face made you want to flick him upside the head, but realistically you couldn’t since you were vulnerable as all hell under him.

He didn’t hesitate whatsoever to pull your shirt off of you. Already, your shorts were gone and the same with your bra. You were lost- it was like a switch was flipped with him. You didn’t know he had a side like this to him. 

Kogane went up to your neck and purposefully breathed against your neck causing you to jump. He soon started to leave small, gentle bites on the same spot, letting him leave a long lick against it, hurriedly wanting to whisper against your ear something god knows what where he got it from. 

“I’m going to fuck you senseless until you learn who’s the boss around here, okay sweetheart?” chills were sent down your spine, your heart thumping in your chest, positive that he could hear it. Your cheeks were the brightest shade of red to the point it looks like a child got into their mom’s makeup. But, you didn't know if he watched some really hardcore porn or what, but did not know at al that he had that in him.

His two, long fingers were suddenly teasing your entrance, causing you to let out a small moan, but you acted quickly as you covered your mouth with your hand, not willing to give in to him. Not pleased with your actions, his fingers delved inside if you, pushing in and out of you at a rather quick pace, making sure to curl his fingers in all of the right spots. 

“Can you not hide your moans from me? Pretty Please?” he gave you those puppy dog eyes that you always hated. You shook your head. He shrugged in response and positioned himself against you, your eyes widening in shock. Before you could stop him, question him, or anything, he was already buried inside of you, letting out a loud grunt. 

“I’m going to fuck you really hard, Y/N. I know you like that. You like it when guys fuck you until you can’t walk, right?” he emphasized the last word by slamming his cock deep inside of you, straight towards your g-spot. You basically screamed by the intense feeling, and he only just started. 

“Finally opening up to me, pretty girl?” he pushed your legs up by your head and began to drill his cock into you nonstop. His tight grip on your hips was bound to leave a mark afterwards. The sound of his hips slapping against yours could’ve been enough to make you cum alone.

He pulled out of you and you glared at him.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry.. Come here.” he motioned his hands for you to come towards him. He led you towards the wall.

“Jump” you obliged and he pinned you against the wall, making sure to not waste time by quickly inserting his pulsing cock inside of you. 

“Fuck!” he looked at you, giving you a quick peck on the lips before he started to move inside of you. His thrusts began extremely slow, obviously teasing you. 

“You know what I want.” Kogane’s thrusts became even slower before they came to a stop.

“No, I don’t, i can’t read min-“ your snark remark was cut off as you were given a hard, rough slap on the ass. You looked at him, and he nodded as a signal to go on. You sighed.

“Fuck me.” You sarcastically said in a dull tone, making him annoyed on purpose.

“Come on.. you know you want to. Quit lying about it, Y/N!” he began to rub your clit with one of his fingers as he waited.

“I want you to fuck me till your hearts content. I want you to fuck my pussy until i beg you to stop so i want you to quit messing around and get on with it already!” a small whine was released at the end of your words, but Koganegawa seemed satisfied.

“Whatever you want..” He grinned, He pushed himself further against you, making sure you were well propped up against the wall, and began to thrust at a rapid pace, causing you to grab onto his shoulders to give you more support. 

“God fucking dammit you’re so tight..” your walls were clenching around him like a vice. His cock filled you up so well, but the fact that his dick was brushing against your cervix was throwing you off the edge. It was impossible to think that someone could fill you up so good, and so perfectly. 

“Fuck, fuck! Please don’t stop, Kanji! Right there, right there!” his cheeks flushed at hearing his first name slip past your lips. The pace that he is holding at the moment, you could basically say he was using you like a sex doll. He was like an animal in heat, he showed no signs of stopping whatsoever, and it didn’t help that you used his first name.

“Say it again, please.” he whines against your ear, his hot breaths driving you to the edge even more 

“Kanji!” you moaned, practically chanting his name. He loved the way you said his name. The way his cock thrusted in and out of you at such a quick pace while your cum was coated around it, was the second hottest thing next to Kogane. The way he moaned, the skin slapping against skin was too much.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!” you screamed, but to your surprise Kogane kept on thrusting in and out of you, chasing his own release. You knew he wasn’t going to stop until he came.

“Kanji, please cum, I’m begging you Kanji! You fill me up so good, I love the way you fill me up is so perfect just like you baby-“ and that was it, that’s all that took.

“FUCK! Y/N I love you I love you!” he came inside of you, slowly moving his hips inside of you to ride out the overwhelming feel of pleasure. Your tongue was lolling out of your mouth at the overstimulation, and Kogane let out a small chuckle before carefully carrying you to his bed. 

“Where the hell did you learn all of that from, Kanji?” you said through heavy breaths.

Futakuchi leaned on the door.

“From me.” he pointed at himself with a proud smile before walking off.

[touchmycoat]

OP!Anon for Leverage!HX/LQG: *SCREAM* oh I adore how you wrote this - HX is so good at reading everyone and understanding how to motivate/manipulate them, except for lqg. I love how angry he got at the idea of lqg seeing him in the same light as swd, and also how lqg's just like, yep, swd's gotta die when he heard the full story. I love the idea of HC coming in like the king he is and laying down the law about XL. ahhhhhhh!!!! just imagining hx and lqg getting close after lots of shenanigans!

teamwork baby

"Xue Yang must die" is literally one of my favorite WWX quotes of all time LMFAO time to pay homage

so you know how in book 3, during the Black Water arc, HX is there trying to push his whole scheme forward? It's well-timed, well-thought-out, but the only fucking spanner that keeps jumping back into his work is XL-and-therefore-HC? Yeah I imagine working with grifter!HC is pretty much like that. He's always late or never shows up at all to briefings, or he shows up to the very end to hear the conclusion and goes "Nope, that's fucking stupid, change it." SQQ's like "Why??" and HC's like "oh, lil boy can't figure it out?"

and whenever they have an actual plan going, HC sometimes just shows up and starts doing his own thing in the middle and forces HX to keep up. This is often motivated by one of XL's jobs, and XL would ask if HC knows a little piece of intel, and HC would be like "oh you know what, I actually have a hostage right here to ask about that, one moment please :)" and utterly prioritize XL's thing. HX has to change the job on the fly so many times, and it's so fucking annoying, but it's not like HC leaves him at a dead end, so he always does find a way out.

(this got fucking long, but HX/LQG under the cut)

Bingliushen are also annoyed as fuck, but while they're godtier at their own things, none of them are mastermind-level (yet—Binghe's gonna get there, isn't he), so they just have to put their faith in HX and keep chugging forward. This is how the foundation builds, y'know? HX insists to both others and himself that he's being honest and faithful to his team because that's just the best way to handle them, not 'cause he's actually a team player and not 'cause he cares for anybody at all. And LQG's a simple guy—you save my life, I'll save yours. You act in good faith, I'll be loyal in turn.

It starts with something small. HX's suffered tremendous loss, and has been on his own for a very, very long time. He's used to taking care of himself, but we all know LQG's love language is "here, you dropped this. I've been quietly paying attention to everything you like and do, no big deal." So maybe it happens on a mission. HC has three marks to dupe in succession, and they're playing a nasty Big Pharma group, so it's hitting close to home for HX. At the last minute though, HC says over the comm, "the CEO & CFO made me. Must've recognized me from speaking to the secretary earlier. He Xuan."

"Can you still do the COO?"

"I'm not about to waste this outfit, am I."

and HX has to hop in and do 2/3rds of the grifting himself, which is fine, he's completely capable of this, he's a goddamn prodigy at hiding his murderous tendencies. but out of nowhere LQG is on the line, "Shen Qingqiu, you said you can hack the finances, right?"

"Yes, but nothing else."

"Then He Xuan doesn't have to talk to the CFO. Give me 2 minutes, I'll knock him out."

and HX doesn't stop him because sure, why not? It was more efficient for HC to do three of them at once, but now that it was HX doing it (and HX still has his own part to play), it would save them more effort if LQG goes for the blunt force solution. But it rubs HX the wrong way—what the fuck? Yeah, HX may not like grifting as much as HC, the stupid drama queen, but hasn't he proven himself every bit as capable of it? Why did LQG think it necessary to, what, bail him out?

So that night, after debrief, HX pulls LQG aside to give him a piece of his mind. "Don't ever try to override my judgment again." "What are you talking about?" "I made a call, I did not need your 'help' on the grift." "That wasn't help." "Then what was it." "You hate talking to guys like that!" "???" "You didn't need to talk to him, and I was right there. It was the obvious thing to do."

and HX still doesn't get it, not until the next day, when SQQ and HX are quietly setting up for the morning, and SQQ says out of the blue, "that's just how he cares. Liu Qingge, I mean. It's never an ego thing once he's your friend."

"I don't need friends," is HX's automatic response.

"No," SQQ snorts in agreement. "You need revenge. That's fine. Then I'm sure he'll get over it."

Which—okay—no? Bastard. That's just a passive aggressive attempt at a guilt trip, and it's not going to work. HX has already made it abundantly clear from the get-go that this was simply a job, he was the pointman, once they were done everybody will go on their way. It's not his fault SQQ dragged in a hitman with the loyalty instincts of a german shepherd, and it's certainly none of his business whether LQG treats him as friend or a colleague.

LQG will just have to be disappointed.

BUT OF COURSE WHAT GOES ON TO HAPPEN IS THAT HX sees more and more of the things LQG does, the ways LQG manages to be thoughtful. The way LQG handles visitors during HX’s mealtimes despite how much LQG hates talking to randos, bc HX has bad food days and can’t really stand eating with others. The time they had some time to kill undercover in a consultant’s office, and HX passed the time by pointing out all the things wrong with the office’s mini-aquarium set-up, so when SQQ brought up something inane about decorating their headquarters, LQG made HX draw up specs for a saltwater tank of their own. HX and everybody else kept insisting it was a waste of time, but LQG still went ahead and got it made anyways, and now it’s HX’s favorite thing in the entire HQ.

But HX wasn’t about to owe anybody anything. If LQG insists on this game, then fine, HX was going to play to win. He requisitions new toys (read: weapons) for LQG, he builds heists around the sole purpose of giving LQG a room of satisfying bad guys to beat up, he goes to the gym and spars with LQG, he even tries to give LQG’s weirdly famous younger sister’s novel a read—which was a lot. Ahem. But LQG loves his younger sister, so surely this would be the ultimate “hah! I’ve given you more than you’ve given me! I win! move.

...turns out LQG’s never read the damn thing, and just takes everything HX gives him in total stride. “We still on for tomorrow?” “...Yes.” “Cool. See you.” And HX’s over here totally overthinking EVERYTHING while LQG’s just chilling, super matter-of-fact.

Fuck, were they friends???

HX rage-panics, because he does. not. need. friends. And it has nothing to do with how everyone he’s ever loved dies, it has nothing to do with the careful balance of vengeful fury and self-hatred inside him that’s about to tip over any day now, once they take down SWD. It has nothing to do with HX being too traumatized and grief-stricken to imagine moving on from revenge, to ever imagine being simply content again.

His eating habits get worse. One day he snaps at LQG for pining so much after SQQ. “You already know he’s never going to return your feelings. It’s embarrassing to watch you insist on giving so much when he’s not going to give anything back.”

“Shut up,” LQG snaps, “it’s not about getting anything back.”

But that makes it worse. Of course HX wasn’t actually talking about SQQ, though sure, that’s annoying too. LBh obviously knows, so why can’t they take their infernal flirting somewhere private, instead of flaunting it in front of LQG all the time?? But the fault’s with LQG too, what with all the giving. He should find someone more worthy of his affections and stop wasting his time here.

HX cuts everything he and LQG has built up in one fell swoop—completely gives him the cold shoulder. Only ever talks about work, no more dry quips, no more infodumps on niche hobbies. HX wishes he could destroy the tank at HQ, but that would be way too confrontational at this stage.

Until one mission, when LQG knows HX is not in a good place, and keeps trying to argue HX out of doing something excessively risky. HX rounds on him and says, “you’re just a hired gun, so shut up and shoot where I'm pointing, or you can pack your things and get out.”

LQG goes red, then white, and storms away.

“Nice sucker punch,” HC comments idly where he’s lounging on the side. Who knows when the fuck he showed up. “Right where it hurts.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know. His five-year stint with the Sha City Demons?”

Of course HX knows about that. He’s looked thoroughly into everybody’s backgrounds. But what does that have to do with this?

“Gege is the best at this, after all. See you and I, we stopped asking questions once we knew the name, because we don’t think people are ever as pure and good as they pretend to be. But you know what Dianxia said, after I mentioned Liu Qingge’s old gig to him? ‘Five years, hm? I wonder what they had on him. In my experience, men like Liu Qingge don’t work for crews like the Sha Demons. And in order to sink their claws deeper into men like him, the Demons always make them do the worst jobs.’ Just a hired gun indeed.”

That’s right. LQG gets a Moreau backstory of his own. HX feels his heart sink to the pit of his stomach.

“Fuck.”

“I don’t know why you’re so stressed out about it. He is just a hired gun—”

“You know why. Fuck.”

“So get out of my face and do something about it already. You know where he’s gone, I know you’ve put trackers on your entire team.”

“...”

“You didn’t? No, you didn’t put one on him? My god, you do care.”

While HC’s busy sounding disgusted, HX is reeling. He just sent the best hitman in the field packing, and was an absolute dick about it. He was not a kind man, but he also wasn’t a cruel one. He believes in fairness, and everything he said simply had not been fair. It had all been his own guilt and issues talking; if he really didn’t give a damn, then he wouldn’t have...done all this.

“How much are you willing to pay?” HC says, swiping at his phone.

“What?”

“Because I don’t trust any of you, and did put a tracking device on Liu Qingge.” He sure has—HC is waving the loading tracking app in HX’s face. “So I’m asking, how much are you willing to pay?”

...And that’s the reason why HX owes HC so much damn money.

[elsanna-shenanigans]

December Contest Submission #15: You Are Not Dating

words: ca. 3100 setting: mAU lemon: no cw: none

Anna smiled and stared ahead, lost in thought. It wasn’t until she felt a finger poke her forehead that she returned to the present.

“Earth to Anna, come in, Anna.”

“Yes?” Anna guiltily turned in her desk to face her friends. She hadn’t meant to ignore them, but thoughts of spending time with her girlfriend tended to side track her. 

“I asked if I could give your number to my friend, Toby?” Merida rolled her eyes, annoyed.

“Why?” Anna frowned in confusion. She couldn’t remember a Toby in their class and besides, she wasn’t interested in tutoring anyone.

“He thinks you’re cute and wants to ask you out.” 

“But, I’m dating someone already.” Surely her friends remembered that. Wait, had she told them?

“WHAT?!” Three voices exclaimed loudly.

Apparently not.

“When did that happen?”

“Who are you going out with?”

“When did he ask you?”

“Does he go to our high school?”

“How did you meet?”

“How far have you guys gone?”

“SSHHH!” Anna looked around the classroom but no one was paying them any attention. Good. She beckoned her friends closer and whispered, “I’m dating Elsa.”

“WHAT?!” Again three voices shouted, this time attracting the notice of a couple of other students. 

“SSSHHH!” Anna shushed them again and smiled nervously at the students watching them then turned back and glared. “Stop shouting.” Now she remembered why she hadn’t said anything.

Rapunzel leaned in and whispered, “Elsa Andersen? You’re claiming to be dating Elsa Andersen?”

“We are dating,” Anna sighed in exasperation. She really needed new friends.

“No way are you dating her,” Merida rolled her eyes. 

“I am!” The two nearby students, again, looked over at the commotion. The redhead ducked her head in embarrassment and whispered, “Elsa and I are dating. Why don’t you guys believe me?”

“For starters, we have never seen you two hanging out together. Are you even friends?” Rapunzel raised an eyebrow.

“We eat lunch together every day.”

“Our cafeteria is tiny. Sitting next to each other isn’t hanging out,” Merida replied.

“What makes you think you two are going out?” Rapunzel asked skeptically.

“Because we are?”

“She is the most popular student here and a Senior. If you two are going out, why doesn’t everyone know about this?” Merida asked. 

“Elsa’s a private person.”

“No one’s that good at keeping secrets at this school,” muttered Merida.

“She comes to my basketball games.”

“She’s in charge of the scoreboards, of course she’s at your games.” Rapunzel put her hands on her hips, clearly exasperated.

“We go home together everyday.”

“Isn’t that the only bus line that goes out there?” Merida asked.

“We-“ Anna closed her mouth. She wasn’t going to share that everyday Elsa invited her over to her house where they would talk and do homework together and half the time her girlfriend’s parents invited her to stay for dinner. Anna knew that Elsa liked honey in her tea after school, that she had been taking singing lessons for years and had a beautiful voice, that she loved playing video games even though she wasn’t very good at them, and that she laughed at her own jokes. The list of personal details only she knew went on and on and refused to share them with anyone else. Even her best friends. 

“How long have you two been going out?” Kristoff asked gently, speaking for the first time.

“Two months,” Anna grinned goofily.

“Have you kissed yet?” He asked.

“…no.” Anna bit her bottom lip nervously. Could her friends be right? Could this all be in her head? No, Elsa loved her; she was certain of it.

“See?” Merida grinned triumphantly.

“We’re taking it slow.”

Three groans and a muttered ‘goddamn it’ were their only response. Before they could ask anything else, the calculus teacher walked into the room.

“Okay, class, take your seats and pull out last night’s homework.”

* * * * * 

Anna glanced at the quiet figure next to her. On a typical bus ride home, after after-school activities, they would be laughing and chatting about their classes. But Elsa hadn’t said a word, just silently wrapped her arms around her middle and stared out the window.

“Elsa?”

She kept her head turned away, staring at the snow blanketing the town.

Completely baffled, Anna readjusted her knit cap and fidgeted uncomfortably.

The silence persisted while disembarking from the bus and as they walked home. Snow began falling again. Anna shivered in the cold and missed having Elsa’s arm around her shoulders, pulling her close and keeping her warm. But a distance stayed between them and her gaze on  the icy sidewalk. 

It didn’t take long to reach Elsa’s house where, silently, her girlfriend turned and walked up the walkway.

“Elsa, what’s wrong?” 

Footsteps faltered on her front steps but didn’t stop. Before she could call out again, Elsa stepped through her front door, shutting it quickly behind her.

For the first time since they met, Anna didn’t know what to do.

* * * * * 

Having calculus first thing everyday was bad enough, but it was particularly horrible that day. Laying her head on her arms, Anna closed her eyes and tried not to think or she would remember that morning and she was barely keeping hold of her emotions. Elsa didn’t respond to any of her text messages the night before or sit next to her on the bus that morning and she didn’t know what was wrong.

Did she do something to hurt Elsa? Did she forget something important? Did someone find out about them that shouldn’t have? Questions crowded Anna’s brain without an answer in sight. She decided to skip going to the cafeteria; it would hurt to watch Elsa sit with someone else.

* * * * *

Not caring if she got benched for tomorrow’s game, Anna skipped basketball practice. Whatever was bothering her girlfriend was far more important. On the top step of Elsa’s porch she stood, shivering in the cold and snow, determined to wait all night if needed. 

The sound of footsteps walking up the path caught Anna’s attention.

Elsa froze when she saw her. Gazes locked for a few precious moments.

“Anna…” whispered so softly that if she hadn’t seen her lips move, she never would have known her name was said at all.

Anna took a step forward and the spell between them broke.

Pulling her keys out of her pocket, Elsa avoided her eyes as she climbed the steps to her front door. 

“Go home, Anna,” the keys fell from her shaking hands. 

“No.”

“Please…” Elsa closed her eyes and stood in front of her door, keys at her feet.

“What did I do?”  Anna choked out, scared at the answer but needing to know.

Elsa’s backpack fell off her shoulder and landed in the snow. Bonelessly, she sagged against the porch railing.

“You didn’t do anything. I just…” Elsa wrapped her arms around her waist and turned to face Anna. “I just need some time,” tears fell silently. 

Seeing her girlfriend in tears broke Anna and she crossed the small distance separating them. She held Elsa’s face gently and wiped the falling tears away with her thumbs. 

“Please, don’t,” trembling, Elsa pulled away from her, “I… I… I need… some space.” Deep gasping breaths, clearly struggling to keep it together.

Tears fell from Anna’s eyes. “Please don’t break up with me,” she whispered, cold beyond the weather seeping in, chilling her to the bone.

“What?” Elsa’s brows furrowed.

“Give me a second chance,” Anna leapt at the opening and resisted the urge to touch Elsa again. “I-I’ll fix whatever I did.”

Elsa opened and closed her mouth, confusion painted on her face. “What are you talking about? We aren’t together?”

I’ve lost her. The world rocked under her feet. “I-I-I’m sorry. I…” Anna backed away, nearly tripping on her own feet. She needed out of there fast before she completely lost it. Snow began drifting down again, the cold not touching her with the realization she lost Elsa.

“No! Wait!” Elsa rushed around to block her escape down the steps.

“Please,” tears began to fall and she bowed her head. Anna wished to be home alone to cry in earnest. Torturous, happy memories played out in her mind’s eye. “Please, let me leave.”

“No. Anna, did…” Elsa ducked to meet her gaze and visibly swallowed. “Did you think we were together?”

Oh god, my friends were right. Anna’s head spun and she wished to disappear. Tears fell rapidly. Stupid, stupid, stupid! 

Chilled fingers wiped her tears away and cupped her face. “Anna, please answer me.”

“Yes.” Anna struggled to push the word through a closed throat. 

Warmth enveloped her and she found herself in Elsa’s arms. Tears fell on her neck.

“Oh god, when you didn’t say anything I thought…” Elsa sagged against her and sniffed, “I thought you rejected me.”

“Huh?” Anna fought the urge to wrap Elsa in a comforting embrace, no longer trusting her instincts on anything.

“The letter.” Pulling back, Elsa wiped her eyes.

“What letter?” Unsure what was happening, Anna’s tears stopped and mind raced.

“I left a letter in your locker about…” Elsa’s tears stopped and she offered a watery smile. “About how I fell in love with you and asking you on a date.”

“I never got a letter.” As Anna wondered what could have happened to it, a falling snowflake landed on the back of her neck. She shivered violently.

“Anna, you’re cold!” Elsa quickly picked up their bags and her house keys out of the snow. “How long have you been out here?”

“I skipped basketball practice.” Teeth starting to chatter, Anna pulled her coat closed more tightly.

“That was hours ago.” She looked distraught.

“I-I-I n-n-needed-d-d t-to t-t-talk with y-you.” The cold wind bit into her and Elsa pulled her  inside.

* * * * * 

Anna shivered in front of the roaring fire.

“Come here,” Elsa settled in behind her and wrapped them both in a blanket. “I’ll keep you warm.”

Snuggling into the warmth, she finally stopped shivering.

“Why did you think we were dating?” 

The softly spoken question pulled Anna from the light doze she slipped into and she stiffened. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Hey now, no going anywhere. Talk to me. Please.” Elsa tightened her hold, laying a chin on Anna’s shoulder. “Why did you think we were dating?” she repeated.

Face warming with an intense blush, Anna sighed before answering. “I asked you out and you said yes.”

“What? When was this?”

“The antique marble exhibit downtown.” Now that she thought about it, they had a wonderful time but maybe it hadn’t been a good idea for a first date. 

“The marble exhibit?” Elsa sounded startled and Anna kept her eyes on the fire. “But that was two months ago.”

Anna nodded. 

Strong hands moved her until she sat across Elsa’s lap. “Didn’t you wonder why we never held hands at school? Or why our friends didn’t know?”

“You’re a private person.”

Elsa rolled her eyes. “Not that private.”

“Didn’t you wonder why…” fingers gently traced her lips and deep blue eyes locked on her, “we never kissed?”

Unable to form a coherent thought, Anna stayed silent, buzzing with anticipation.

Lips she only felt in her dreams, pressed against hers softly.

Oh. 

Anna hummed and tilted her head, pushing herself more firmly into Elsa. A slick tongue traced the seam of her lips and she eagerly opened her mouth to deepen the kiss. For long, rapturous minutes they explored each other’s mouths.

Slowly, without breaking their kiss, Elsa guided Anna to the floor and covered her body with her own. Kisses traveled down her neck and Anna tilted her head to the side, giving her girlfriend more room. 

“S-s-shouldn’t we…” Anna whimpered, “we be doing our homework.”

“Later,” kissing back up her neck slowly, Elsa pinned Anna’s hands above her head. “I have kisses with my girlfriend to make up for.”

* * * * *

Hours later, a bright red Elsa returned to the living room from the kitchen, where she had gone to ask her parents if Anna could stay for dinner.

“They said it was fine.” She grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around them again.

Anna snuggled back into Elsa. “Are you alright?”

“Yup!” 

Turning to see her, Anna raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Umm… well,” Elsa drooped with a sigh. “I told my parents you’re my girlfriend now and they were confused.”

“Confused?”

“They thought we were already dating.” 

Anna laughed.

* * * * *

Stating she did not want Anna to walk home by herself at night, Elsa escorted her the two blocks home holding hands the whole way. The temperature plummeted and snow continued to drift down in lazy fat flakes, but Anna didn’t feel a thing.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning at the bus stop.” Anna squeezed the hand in hers and took a step back in the direction of the front door. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Elsa tightened her hold.

“You have to let go,” Anna giggled.

A hard tug and she fell into Elsa’s arms. 

“No, I don’t.”

Arms circled her waist and Anna wrapped her arms around Elsa’s neck.

“No, you don’t.” Warm lips and Anna smiled into the kiss, heart soaring with joy.

“Anna! You can kiss your girlfriend tomorrow! It’s cold out here, get in the house!” Her mother’s voice called from the front door. “And Elsa, you be careful walking home!”

Burying her face in Anna’s neck, Elsa groaned pitifully. “I think everyone knew we were dating but me.”

“We weren’t, though.” Head lowered, still incredibly embarrassed, Anna’s fingers played with the hair at Elsa’s neck.

“No,” Elsa kissed her gently, “we were.”

Anna smiled.

“But,” Elsa’s expression turned serious, “I want to redo our first date.”

“ANNA!”

“Coming, Mom!” A quick kiss. “And I’d like that.” 

“This weekend, then.”

“Okay.” Anna practically skipped to the front door.

* * * * *

At the bus stop the next morning, Anna shifted from foot to foot in anticipation of seeing Elsa and pulled her scarf tighter around trying to keep the icy breeze out. Arms wrapped around her from behind.

“Good morning.”

“Hmmm,” Anna snuggled back into the hold. “Good morning.”

“Yes, it is.” Elsa placed a kiss on her cheek.

Anna turned to face Elsa. “I like this.”

“Where are your gloves?” Elsa frowned looking down at the bare hands between them.

“Oh, I forgot them in my locker yesterday.”

“Here,” Elsa grabbed her hands and placed them on her warm neck. “Shit! They’re freezing!”

“Sorry!” Anna tried to pull away.

“No no no no no,” a strong grip held her there. “You hate being cold.”

Anna hummed happily as feeling returned to numb fingers.

Elsa grabbed her right hand and slipped a still warm back leather glove on Anna’s hand.

“Wait-“

“You need them more than me.” Elsa slipped the second one on.

“But what about you?” Anna bit her lip.

“Don’t worry.” 

Two hands slipped into the back pockets of Anna’s jeans and pulled her close.

“Elsa,” Anna looked at the other people waiting at the bus stop but no one seemed to notice them. 

“Does this bother you?” Elsa frowned anxiously.

“No, I just thought…” she trailed off.

“For two months you thought I didn’t like PDA.”

Anna nodded.

“I do with you.” A gentle, chilly kiss, and she sighed happily.

* * * * * 

Smiling so wide her face actually started to hurt, Anna sat, the letter found in the very back of her locker and now tucked safely in her backpack to be read later, and waited for the calculus teacher to arrive.

“Anna! Why didn’t you respond to any of our texts?” Merida, hands on hips, stood next to her desk. 

“Why do we even need to learn calculus?” Kristoff moaned pitifully and laid his head down on the desk. 

“Sorry.” Only now did Anna remember seeing the messages in their group text asking for help with the homework. “I was with Elsa.”

“Ugh!” Merida threw her hands up in exasperation.

“Sweetie,” Rapunzel laid a hand on her shoulder. “Do you still think you’re dating Elsa Andersen?”

By now they had attracted the attention of most of their classmates.

“We are.” Anna sunk down in her seat, withering under the stares.

“No, you aren’t.” Looking even more irritated than before, Merida stomped.

“Feisty Pants, we know you’ve had a crush on her forever but this is going too far.” Kristoff tried to smile encouragingly though he just looked exasperated to Anna.

Buzzing filled the room. Her friends had not been quiet. 

“Did you hear that?” Anna heard a girl from behind her whisper. “She really thinks Elsa Andersen would give her the time of day.”

Laugher in response.

“Seriously? Why would she date her?” The deep voice from in front of the class didn’t bother trying to whisper.

“I know right? Elsa Andersen has standards.”

“Awww, I wanted to ask that redhead out.” It was now too loud in the room for Anna to pinpoint who was talking.

“You dodged a bullet there.”

Finally deciding that maybe she should pretend she was joking, Anna lifted her head and saw Elsa stride into the classroom.

Anna smiled at, happy to see a friendly face amidst all this chaos. “What are you-“ a pair of soft lips cut her off.

A bit dazed from the unexpected kiss, Anna missed whatever it was Elsa said. “Uhh… what?”

“I said,” Elsa smiled and leaned back only slightly, their faces still close. “I found your math notebook in my backpack.”

Only now did Anna notice the battered thing on her desk. “Thank you.”

“I won’t be at lunch.” Finger brushed lovingly along her jaw and Anna leaned into the touch.

“I have to go to the library and finish my homework.”

“Oh, right.” Anna blushed remembering the kisses and snuggles in lieu of homework.

Elsa’s smile widened and Anna’s blush deepened.

“I’ll see you at your game tonight.”

This time, it was Anna who leaned in for a kiss. 

“Okay.”

Straightening up, Elsa strolled out of the classroom.

It was only after Elsa left that Anna realized it was dead silent. It stayed that way for several long moments before sound exploded.

“Oh my god, I’ll text Jenna and you text Kristy.”

“Holy fuck! They are dating!”

“Wha… bu… huh!?”

“Anna, we are so sorry!” Merida collapsed into a nearby chair in shock. 

Kristoff opened and closed his mouth, completely speechless.

“Ummm…” Rapunzel frowned. “Isn’t your basketball game away today?”

“I told you guys,” she smiled at her contrite friends, “she comes to all my games.”

[slashingdisneypasta]

Hewitts / Pleasant Valley x Fem!Reader || Oneshot

Title: The Multiverse Theory and the Horror Fandom 

Notes: 

I don't really know what it is, but I enjoyed creating it, so I’m posting it! If I get an idea as to what might happen next, I’ll probably add a part two. 

Its crack

Plot: 

Okay, you are from this universe and you are your Slasher fucker self. But you’re transported from your home, to the universe that the Slashers live in, specifically 2003 Texas Chainsaw Massacre. They capture you of course and decide to keep you.

Now the Hewitt’s have decided to go on a roadtrip and are of course taking you, their hostage, with them.

They end up staying in Pleasant Valley, despite your warnings not to. 

Warnings: Mention of real life people, breaking of the 3rd wall, if you look then there is some hints towards sexual assault cursing. Its comedy though mostly, so its pretty okay

~~~

“We’re lost.”

“No, mama, we not lost. We’re just taking the scenic route… “Hoyt transparently bullshits, looking around completely lost at the surroundings that we pass at a 100 km/h. Nothing but wheat fields and cows as far as the eye can see. Georgia is even more boring then Texas had been.

Luda Mae rolls her eyes, not taking any his shit after 6 hours in the car with him just today. God, I’m on her side. Can we stop somewhere just for a little bit? I mean, I don’t have to pee anymore since I held it for so long that the urge went away, but I’d still like to try because now I feel like I’m going to explode at any time. “So, we’re lost.” She announces, leaving no room for argument.

“Definitely lost… “Monty, in the seat beside me in the back seat of Hoyt’s tiny sheriff car, agrees with his sister, also watching the fields go by moodily. Why didn’t we take the goddamn truck, anyway? I would rather be tied to top of that, then squished back here between Thomas and Monty. I mean, there’s not even any doorhandles in the back here! Why did I have to be in the middle? Its not like I’m going to throw myself out the window! Sometimes I think Hoyt’s paranoid. And I hate him. And his ego’s too big.

Of course, Hoyt snaps back at Monty even though what he said was so mellow. It certainly didn’t have the amount of pent up frustration that Luda Mae’s had behind it. “We ain’t lost, goddamn it- Look! There’s a town. We’ll stop there and ask for directions if you really want. Just to make sure we’re going the right way, which I’m sure we are.” I look up from my hands, bruises all over the wrists from Hoyt and the ropes, and cuts all over the fingers from cooking with Luda Mae… and jagged fingernails from before I gave up. When I was still scratching at the walls and floor and Thomas, wanting to escape this mad family.

My fighting spirit isn’t completely crushed, now… but it has been a while since I screamed for help. I’m waiting for the moment, the right moment to try and escape. Of course, I don’t know if that moment will every come… but I still hope. And that’s something.

Now, looking up out the front window to see the town Hoyt’s talking about, I wonder if this will be the place that I’ll escape in.

Then we rush past the sign and I do a double take.

What did that say?!

I glance at Thomas, my designated warden to see what he’s doing now since he had been sleeping for most of today’s trip- yesterday he had stayed awake and alert, but today it seems that he decided I wasn’t about to crawl over anyone and creep through the window so it was cool to nap,- to see he’s alert, and when I look at him he turns to look at me back. I flash him a fake smile and turn to Monty, because he speaks. And he’s on the right side of the car, so he would have seen the sign.

“Hey, what did that sign say?”

“Why are they talking again?” Hoyt pipes up in the front as we get nearer to the town and I start to feel sick in my stomach. I raise my eyebrows at Monty instead of answering Hoyt’s goad.

Monty shrugs, leaning his back on his hand and looking out the window again. “Uh, Pleasant Valley.”

Oh my god.

It cannot be possible that more then one Horror movie exists in this world… right? I’ve been through enough trauma; I do not need to endure Robert Englund’s trademark craziness- oH, or Bill Mosely’s either. Oh god, - and his band of confederate lunatics. Do not do this to me, universe.

My heart’s beating faster then a bullet train as I wait, still as a statue and straight backed, for any more hints that I am where I think I am.

Thomas watches me with a hard stare, alert and suspicious about my odd change in posture and body language. I try to ignore him, which is of course hard, but I make do.

Then we start to pass people in this town, and they’re men in overalls and women in the most era-incorrect costumes I have ever seen. And they’re smiling and waving at us.

And I feel sick, and sink back into my seat so nobody outside can see me through Monty or Thomas, hopefully.

“Hoyt,” I call, quietly for the ‘sheriff’s’ attention. My voice doesn’t lift even to a normal volume, I’m so scared so he either ignores me or really doesn’t hear me. I try to be louder. “Hoyt!”

“Yes, hostage?”  

“I think we’re going the right way as well; I saw sign on the road a few miles back that said so. We should just keep going.”

“What?!” Luda Mae turns in her seat to look at me furrow her eyebrows- she doesn’t believe me one bit. “What are you doing, slouching in the back like that? Sit up!”

“Are we stopping?”

“Uhh… “She turns to look at Hoyt, and he nods. “Looks like it. About time, too. I need to stretch my legs, and we obviously need those damn directions.”

“We do not need the- “Hoyt sighs, exasperated, then furrows his eyebrows as he focuses on something in front of the car. “What the fuck are these wackos all doing out there in the middle of the road? Get outta my way… “

Mow them over, Hoyt! MOW THEM OVER.

Of course, he slows to a crawl and then a stop, and I thank god that the back windows don’t open, lest I feel any more in danger. If they were open, I definitely would have feared scary ghost cannibals would stick in their hands. As it is, cross my arms and let Hoyt do the talking. Of course, I mean. What else could I do?

I can see full frontal the mess that we’re getting into, which once upon a time in a different world -my world. Oh, how I wish I was there right now, - would have been a good sign. Seeing Kane Hodder, Robert Englund and Lin Shaye and the ‘Guts and Glory Jubilee’ banner would be a sign I’m about to have a good night full of horror movie enjoyment and probably fanfiction as well. But now I see it and I wish to never watch that movie again, much like the Texas Chainsaw Massacre franchise.

Hoyt puts his hand on the car door handle next to him. “No, no, no, don’t get outta the car!” I exclaim, quietly and reaching to grab him back but he looks over at me, gives me a ‘I do what I want’ kind of look and then gets out of the car.

“Good afternoon, sheriff! Welcome to our Guts and Glory Jubilee! You’re our honoured guests!”

Oh, dear god.

Hoyt slams his car door shut and Luda and I wince at the sudden noise. “What the hell are you people doing out here in the middle of the road??! Me and my family are tryna get through here.”

“Aw, my bad sheriff! We’re just so tickled to have you with us this fine day!” Buckman doesn’t seem stirred that Hoyt’s clearly southern, and therefore ‘confederate’, like him, as far as he’s concerned which is what I was hoping for, so I decide to blow this whole situation out of water- I have no choice.

And what, in hell’s name, could I possibly lose at this point?

I lean forward in the car, keeping an eye on the scene, to talk to Luda Mae. “Hey, so this may be a bad time to mention this but, uh.” How do I break this news? “Well, I’m from a different universe. That multiverse noise? That’s real. Anyway, more importantly, I’m from a world in which you and your sons, and Monty, are just movie characters. Your movie is called ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre’, Thomas is the Texan Chainsaw guy and he is called Leatherface.” Luda’s slowly turning her head to look at me like have 7 eyeballs. I keep talking through, quickly ad feverishly, desperate. “I know it sounds crazy, and you can ask me any question about ya’ll’s passed if you want as proof but just get your son back in this car please. This place also has its own movie, and its even less pretty then what goes on in your house.” I look pleadingly at her, hoping to God, by some miracle she believes me.

“Sit back down!! I’ve been in a car with 3 sweatin’, stinky men for 6 hours now today and I am in no mood for your stories.” She turns back in her seat. “God.”  

“Oh Jesus, you said it… “ I whine, plopping back down in my seat, looking at Hoyt and Buckman who have now met in front of the car and aren’t yelling at each other across the road and immediately assume the fucking confederate mayor is successfully feeding the fucking fraudulent sheriff’s ego, and drop my face into my hands. A few minutes pass, and I stay like this, occasionally making frustrated crying sounds without really crying, and getting annoyed groans and ‘shut up’s from Monty beside me, until a hit to the car jolts me up. “What! What? What’s happening- are they attacking!?”

Everyone who heard, ignores me and I see it’s just Hoyt coming around the car opening Thomas’ side. Oh god, breeze has neve felt so terrifying. “Come on out, family. We’re stayin’ the night! I can’t tolerate settin’ in this car with you people anymore.” On no. No, no, no. STAYING?

Thomas gets out and Luda Mae follows, opening Monty’s door for him and letting him out onto his wheelchair that Thomas gets out of the trunk for him and unfolds. I cross my arms and stay inside. When Hoyt realises this, he leans down to peer inside the car at me and thrusts a thumb to point behind him. Slowly, menacingly he drawls. “Get out of this car.”

Oh, what is he going to do? What could he possibly do that he hasn’t already done to me.

I stubbornly look away. “You said family, I’m not family. I’m not leaving this car, no way. You can’t make me.”

“You wanna bet, sugar?”

He reaches in, wraps a calloused hand around one of my arms and starts pulling me until I topple out of the car, into the dirt. He lets go of me and immediately slams the car door closed again so I don’t slither back in.

“Fuck.” I mutter, glaring up at him from the floor. He locks the car in front of my eyes.

“Now, when you’re feeling more like an adult and not a child, you can come on to our room- that building over there. “ I feel like running after him when he walks off to the building, but before I can get myself out of the dusty, beige dirt, a hand enters my vision and I follow it up and scream on the inside. Mayor George Fucking Buckman.

He smiles so charmingly… you could nearly believe he isn’t depraved. Then I see the eyepatch and I’m reminded. “Would you let me help you up outta the dirt, little miss?”

Mmmm, I guess.

Best to stay on his good side, I think as I take his hand and he hauls me up. I don’t want to be on the receiving end of one of those glares that the whole town like to take part in with him. Noooo thank you. Not for me.

“Thank you.” I say quickly, looking to get out of there and find the Hewitt’s. They’ve all disappeared into the building Hoyt went towards a moment ago now. I brush the dirt off my pants and then clap my hands off of each other to get rid of the dirt that’s on them now, and any remnants of feeling Buckman’s hand, then flash a tight smile in Buckman’s general direction and escape towards the building.

They have to listen to me!

I burst into the place and see Thomas trailing behind the rest of that devil family down a hallway and run down there. “Thomas!” I pant, because that was a long hallway. Where are we now?! The Overlook hotel!?! “Thomas, what kind of warden are you? Please, don’t you ever leave me alone with that man ever again!” Thomas narrows his eyes suspiciously at me above his normal, leather mask -Luda and Hoyt had decided before we left their murder mansion that the human flesh mask would probably not fly in normal society, so he swapped it in for the old one,- then nods in front of him for me to walk there where can watch, and I gladly go there.

___TIME SKIP: A couple hours later___

All day, I have been trying to persuade the Hewitt’s that I’m not from here. I described Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning in explicit detail, including of course the Sheriff Hoyt thing, the Eric/Dean confusion, Bailey, Monty’s legs being chainsawed off… I even recruited some comic book information about Hoyt’s time in the Prisoner of War Camp and Sargent Chow, but they just think I’m a stalker now.

I mean, why the fuck not? Why wouldn’t I stalk these freaks? Truly, being around them has been a joy filled time.

I don’t throw back at my face that I watched their movies religiously, readers. That’s was when I thought they were fictional! (Yeah, I know you’re there reading this. This sure feels like a fanfiction to me, and as a fangirl, I’m an expert.)

So, I’ve decided I have one more option. One more chance to survive.

Hopefully this doesn’t go worse then plan A did.

Through pretending like the rope around my wrists was too tight when Hoyt tied me up by the hands to his bed frame, when really in truth it was a bit loose, I manage to make him think I’m stuck for the night. So, when he falls asleep – I know he’s asleep because he snores like a feral racoon… that also has rabies… (He drools) – I carefully, quietly, I struggle out of the ropes and carefully put them on the floor. Then turn to the window.

We’re on the second level of this building, but the possibility of a broken bone or two will not deter me from getting out of this mess. Especially since Thomas is waiting in the hallway outside this room for any sign of me trying to escape and getting hurt from falling out of a window is much preferred to meeting the business end of his chainsaw.

Not that I’ll be out of danger when I get out… as I’ll still be in Pleasant Valley… but I will have completed Level 1 at least.

Opening the window, I wince and look back at Hoyt to make sure the gentle rubbing sound the window makes against the frame doesn’t wake him, then turn back and immediately get to crawling out. Once I have succeeded in getting onto the ledge I hold on to the gutter - hoping beyond hope that it’s sturdy, - and reclose the blinds and push the window closed as well again. Covering my tracks.

Then I start the perilous journey down the building, which somehow, I succeed in! When I finally drop down on the dirt again and turn around though, I nearly out loud this time. “Miss Shaye! -“I stop myself, making an ‘Oop’ sound. You would think I would stop making these mistakes- I have been tortured and keep prisoner by the Hewitt family. Certainly not the late R. Lee. Ermey or Andrew Bryniarski either. The Hewitt’s. - But alas, I am still making this mistake apparently. “Sorry, you remind me of someone else!” I smile at Granny Boone, who must have been standing there watching the whole time I conquered the hotel building, stands with her hands on her hips and one eyebrow purposely halfway up her forward. She’s waiting for an explanation. “I didn’t want to wake up my family, and its time for the midnight stroll. Couldn’t sleep!”

My heartbeat races in my chest, because I have every confidence that this woman could kill me with her bare hands if she doesn’t like my answer. For a few moments, she makes me wait as she does looks at me suspiciously like Thomas. Oh god, are you going to eat me or not, ghost lady!?

“Oh, well that’s very considerate of you! Could I join you on your walk? I’m in the same boat.”

Oh, for fudges sake.

I smile politely though, and we start walking side by side down the middle of town. Silence hangs between us, but as we walk, I start to think this could work. I was planning on finding Buckman and telling him my story to see if he would believe me and do something because this whole town is supernatural and hard to believe, but I actually think this may have worked out in my favour! Maybe. He’s a sexist, chauvinistic bigot. But at the very least Boone’s a woman like me, with less of a boner for authority so hopefully she’ll at least listen. So… maybe…?

“So… “I start, sounding loud since it’s so quiet out here. “Can we talk? Woman to woman? I don’t know, you just seem trustworthy!” Oh, puke. What am I saying? “Sorry if I’m out of line, but… something crazy’s going on in my life.”

“Oh, trust me. I know crazy.” I side eye her as she smirks ‘mysteriously’. Oh, I know you know crazy, lady. I know. I know it all. You know crazy intimately. “Uh but go on. Sure thing. What kind of good Christian lady would I be if I didn’t bend an ear to our esteemed special guests?”

… Uhuh.

Well, okay! Works for me. “Thank you.” I clap my hands together. “Well. It started a month ago now, I guess… Haven’t really been able to keep up with time. First, I should probably explain the multiverse theory…”

[turquoise-stones]

Sore

Bakugou x reader

artist link

A/N: Not lemon, not lime, it’s not that type of sore.

. . .

You toweled yourself off as you stepped out of the dorm showers, feeling much better now that the warm water had soothed your sore muscles. While training with Bakugou did wonders to tone your body, your always felt whipped afterwards.

Slipping into some sweatpants and a tshirt, you wrung the last of the water out of your hair, before slapping on some moisturizer and chapstick. Looking at your tired reflection in the mirror one last time, you hastily packed your toiletries into your bag and stuck your feet into your fuzzy slippers. You exited the bathroom, and padded your way to the common room, footsteps softened by your shoes. Peeking around the doorway, you laughed slightly as you spotted the still wet haired Bakugou waiting impatiently for you by the sofas. You watched with a slight smile as he absentmindedly stretched his arm.

"I hope you didn't wait long Kacchan." You said cheerfully one you reached him. He perked up upon hearing your voice, snapping out of whatever thoughts he was having. Eyeing his adorably flat hair, you attempted to reach up and fluff his wet locks. He promptly snatched your hand out of the air and scrunched his nose at you, eyes narrowed.

"You took fucking forever. I thought you slipped and died in there." Lowering you hands, he kept a tight yet warm grip on you as he led out the other side of the common room to the boy's rooms.

"Maybe you just shower too fast. Probably why you smell bad."

You glanced out of the corner of your eye in amusement as a vein popped in his forehead and his teeth bared at you. He was about to fire off before you patted him on the arm with a small chuckle.

"Just kidding just kidding. You smell nice after showers. I think it's your shampoo."

"Hrrumph."

"C'mon let's go. I wanna cuddle."

That statement seemed to lesson Bakugou's grumpiness. The two of you climbed the stairs, the straining pain in your legs reminding you to take it easy tomorrow. After feeling you slip behind him, he turned around to see you frowning at him a couple steps down.

"Why are you wincing?"

"Cause it hurts." You pouted, gesturing at your thighs. Every step seemed to pull your muscles in all the wrong places. His lips tightened and he tugged roughly at your hand, causing you to trip up a couple steps closer to him.

"Kacchan!" You gasped out, flailing out to catch yourself on the banister to stop from falling forwards onto him. "What the he-"

"C'mon. If that little bit of training today made you sore then we definitely need to go harder next time."

You let out a whine of protest as he pulled you up a couple more steps. The thought of what "going harder" implied made you pale. Was he going to make you run a marathon next??

"What kinda logic is that..."

The two of you made you way up another flight of stairs before Bakugou felt you slowing down behind him again. He stopped, and when you caught up to him and he took the opportunity to poke your forearm, and then your stomach. His hands went down to your leg before you slapped him away.

"Hey what are y-"

"You're still too soft."

This time it was your turn to be annoyed. "Excuse me?"

His lips quirked up into a tiny smirk. "As much as I like your body as it is..." a hand reached to your butt only to be slapped away once again. Your cheeks reddened and you puffed up in indignation.

"...you need to build more muscle if you want to be a hero."

You pursed your lips and reluctantly nodded in agreement. Bakugou grabbed hold of your hand again and urged you forwards. He had a cuddling session to look forward to and his impatience was growing.

"Okay I get it! So stop pulling me! I'm not as strong as you and I can't help that I'm sore!"

"And what, you're going to let that stop you?" He let out a huff of breath before continuing on. "if that's your excuse then you've given up already. You should be working even harder then if you want to be strong."

He let out a low sigh when he saw the look of hurt on your face. Sometimes the words he said just didn't come out the way he intended. After all, didn't mean to be cross with you, but it's just that he wanted for you to become a hero just as badly as you did. He wasn't good at vocal motivation or flowery words so he helped you in the way he knew best: training you so that your body could keep up with your quirk. But he wasn't cruel, and seeing that you were truly in pain did make him feel guilty.

"I... I'm trying. I really am Kacchan." You said sadly, suddenly feeling ashamed to be so weak. You felt that by complaining, you had let him down in some way. "Look, I'm obviously moving too slow for you so just go ahead and get ready and I'll be at your room soon okay?"

He let out  grunt of annoyance and you could practically see the gears turning in his head. You thought that he really was going to turn around and sprint up the stairs without you. The grip on your hand tightened for a second before he pulled your arm up and around his shoulder, almost dislodging your bag of toiletries.

"Woah woah hey!"

Another hand wound around your waist and tugged your against him, Bakugou's own bag of toiletries slapping against your thigh. He half dragged you up a couple steps, the sudden pull at your shoulder causing you to lose your footing. Eyebrows furrowing, he cast you a grumpy glare.

"Move your damn feet before I haul your ass up these goddamn steps."

"Okay I'm going I'm going!" You grumbled, starting to move your feet. It was considerably less painful with Bakugou now supporting some of your weight. As he helped you up, you took a moment to appreciate just how impressively strong he was. He trained just as hard if not harder than you today, and even if he was sore, he didn't complain or show it. And after all that he still had the strength to help you when you were tired. It was honestly very admirable. Maybe one day, if you worked hard enough, you would be able to match his stamina.

A couple flights of steps later and the two of you finally reached his floor. Bakugou let the arm around his shoulders drop, but still made sure to keep his hand around your waist in case your legs were still wobbly.

"Thank you..." you sighed and you two trekked towards his room. He jammed his keys into the lock, throwing the door open and pulling you in. Not even bothering to turn the lights on, you dropping your toiletries on the floor and so did he, before he unceremoniously dumped you onto his bed. Sitting up with a pout, you kicked off your shoes and scooted in.

"Get in we don't have all day." He grumbled, collapsing next to you as soon as you gave him enough room to do so. You snuggled into the blankets, reveling in the familiar smell and cushy sheets that always seemed more comfortable than your own. He turned around the face you, and a hand wriggled it's way under your body. Before you even had a chance to squirm away he had flipped you on top of him, arms locking around your torso to keep you there. You took the opportunity to snuggle into his chest, letting your legs get tangled with his.

And at last, the two of you were comfy. You let out a tired sigh and you felt his chest rise and fall underneath you as he did the same. After a few quiet minutes, you felt his hands slip down to your thighs.

"Are you really that sore?"

"Uh huh..." You said quietly, teetering on the brink of sleep but fighting your heavy eyelids to talk to Bakugou.

"We... we can go slower tomorrow."

"No." You grumbled into his shirt. "You said 'we need to go harder.'"

"Try-hard." He chuckled.

A few more moments of quiet passed and you were practically asleep when he spoke again.

"Are you still awake?"

When you didn't respond, he let out a sigh, hands leaving your legs to run through your hair. He knew that tomorrow, you'd drag him out of bed nice and early and make him spar with you. Even though on some nights, you were burnt out beyond measure, somehow you always surprised him by getting up and pushing yourself further. Just as you considered him admirable for his strength, he found your determination inspiring. Giving your still damp hair one last stroke, he closed his eyes.

"Good night (y/n)."

[kasha-formerlydrabbletastic]

Ranking

Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1,967

Warnings: Food mention. Possible secondhand embarrassment trigger.

Author’s Note: Fluffy stuff. 

You had never been one for rag mags - celebrity gossip is simply uninteresting at best and horribly cruel at worst - but the bold headline this week on People Magazine catches your eye as you absentmindedly place your groceries on the belt at the supermarket. 

“Seriously?” you mutter incredulously, your fingers wrapped around a bottle of orange juice. 

Is it worthy of a chuckle? Should you keep moving, pretend you didn’t see it? Or... and you can’t believe this thought has even occurred to you... would it be worth the six bucks to bring it back to the compound and share with the rest of the team? The options occupy too much of your brain space as the cashier tells your total, distracting you from the inane tug-of-war in your head. 

“How much?” you say, shaking away the silly predicament for a moment. 

The cashier, hardly older than 16 it seems, points at the screen instead of answering. Before you pay, however, you glance back at the magazine, finally coming to a decision. 

--

The magazine slaps the counter top, its glossy front page gleaming as you unload the rest of the groceries; it gets lost in the vegetables and fruits, the cereals, the junk food... and for a while you forget it.

"Back with the grub, eh, Y/N?" Tony says, swiping up a bag of Doritos and popping it open. "I gotta say, you've done shopping trips quicker than that."

You laugh, gathering all the reusable bags into one and putting them away and say, "Maybe you should don your supersuit and fly over all the New York City traffic if you want it quicker.”

"I believe that would be an unnecessary trip," Bruce mentions from the kitchen table, sipping his tea. 

“Hey, I offered to send someone out to do it,” he replies. “You insisted on doing it yourself, remember? If I recall correctly,” he continues, feigning concentration as he puts on a teasing mocking tone, “you said that you didn’t want to let the fact that you’re an Avenger now make you too... what was the word.... bougie.”

“At least one of us needs to be grounded, Tony.”

Your gaze shifts to Steve as he passes, a subtle smile on his face when he meets your eye; your tummy flutters, having nothing to do with the hunger pang you’re feeling and everything to do with the way Steve’s eyes sparkle in the soothing lighting of the kitchen. You smile back, hoping the burn in your cheeks is obvious to no one but yourself. 

One by one, the team trickles into the kitchen, looking for a lazy Sunday lunch or ingredients for a post-workout smoothie. Your voices mingle together, a pleasant hum in the early afternoon of a rare mission-free, drama-free weekend. 

Or so you thought. 

"I'm not number one?!"

The incredulous shout draws every eye in the room; Tony sits on the counter, eyes wide as he stares into the open magazine in his hand. You giggle, turning back to your lunch, relieved to know you don't have to live with his over-inflated ego for the next century.

"What are you on about?” Thor says, looking up almost mid-bite. 

“This,” Tony replies, shaking the magazine; he flips through the pages, apparently intent on finding his ranking. “It’s the Top 10 Sexiest Male Superheroes, and I’m... not even second... I’m... how am I fifth?”

At this point, you bite your knuckle to keep from bursting aloud with laughter. You lock eyes with Steve, who mirrors your amusement.

“Lang is ahead of me? Are you serious? He’s a goddamn ant! An actual bug!”

“Who’s number one?” Natasha inquires after swallowing a bite of her sandwich.

Tony looks up, annoyed or crestfallen, you can’t tell. 

“Thor, of course,” he answers with a shrug. “Can’t beat a demigod, I guess.”

Thor jumps up from his chair, his arms raised in victory, Clint giving him a congratulatory high five. The kitchen descends into loud chatter, and after many demands to know the full list, Tony gives the magazine up to Natasha, who reads off the ranking. 

“Cap,” she says with a nod to him. “Good job, you’re second.”

“What?” he laughs; if you didn’t know any better, you’d swear it was humility that makes him say it. There’s no chance that his ranking would go to his head.

“It’s gotta be the beard,” Clint laughs. “Otherwise you would’ve been eighth or worse.”

“It’s definitely more than the beard,” you answer.

Biting your tongue might have been the better option, as now you find yourself the center of some very intrigued attention. Perhaps your tone was a little too defensive, or the blush that certainly feels infinitely hotter now has finally caught flame on your cheeks. Whatever it was that garnered such smirks from around the table, whatever your intentions, your immediate wish is for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. 

“Care to elaborate on that, Y/N?” Tony asks, seeming to forget his fifth place ranking for a moment in favor of someone else’s total humiliation.

You clear your throat, glancing down at your food, bereft of your hunger. 

“Well,” you begin. “Maybe it has a lot to do with the way he carries himself, you know? There’s a lot of dignity there, a lot of virtue. He’s respectful and honest, stands up for what he believes in. He’s definitely not hideous, either. You know... he’s a - ”

“Y/N,” Steve says, leaning forward in his chair. “You don’t have to explain yourself. It’s really sweet of you, of course, and I do appreciate it, but - “

“No, Cap,” Tony interrupts. “I think we should let Y/N keep going.”

Your throat closes in panic and you clear it again, getting to your feet as you say, “I’m actually just gonna go.... uh... make a phone call. I’ll catch you guys later.”

Steve chastises Tony as the rest of the team breaks into discussion, but you don’t hear any of it. Soon, you’re in the elevator, bumping your head against the wall over and over, wondering if it’s too soon to pack your bags and leave the team with no notice as to where you’ve gone. You barely register your surroundings until you enter your room, locking the door behind you and requesting that FRIDAY ensures that you remain undisturbed until further notice. 

---

Each time your knuckles meet the leather of the punching bag, your mind gets a little clearer. It’s almost as if all the big and little things plaguing your thoughts settle on the surface of your fists, only to be smashed to pieces when you punch. The nervous energy that settled in you at lunch drives your fists forward, burning off into nothing with every movement you make. 

Midnight was the perfect time to sneak into the gym, to get a workout in without anyone bothering you; everyone usually slinks off to do their own things a little earlier in the evening. Perhaps some have fallen asleep by this time. It didn’t matter where they were or what they were doing as long as they weren’t around to say anything to you about Steve.

“Y/N?”

Then again... sometimes you’re wrong. 

You halt in your activity, breathing heavily and dreading turning to look at Steve. Your hands drop to your sides as you pluck up your courage, facing the man with a deep breath.

“Hey,” you reply as nonchalant as possible.

“Hi,” he says softly, his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants; his eyes fix on yours, drawing you into their depths as usual as he slowly approaches you. “Can we talk?”

The pit in your stomach grows exponentially, making you regret ever leaving your room in the first place.

“We don’t have to,” you answer quietly. “It’s just a silly magazine. It’s not like it’s about anything important, right?”

Facing the bag once more, you resume your activity, hoping against hope that Steve just leaves it there, that he doesn’t press the matter. The very last thing you want to do is spill your guts about what you thought was just a casual crush to the very man you’re crushing on. You hadn’t expected to become so flustered in such a situation, but with the spotlight on you at lunch, it had really sunk in just how much you feel for him. 

“Y/N,” he continues, but you evade him.

“It’s not a big deal,” you say, deciding to give up your workout for the night and hit the showers; he’d never follow you there. 

Before you can get too far, though, he says, “That’s why you’re running away from me, right?”

The anger is a surprise, bubbling up as you turn on your heel; perhaps it’s your shield in this moment, a veil to wear to save face. 

“Don’t push it, Cap,” you insist, making one more attempt at escape. Again, however, you’re stayed by his response.

“You’re definitely not hideous, either,’ he says, and you turn to face him once more; he stands there, wringing his hands, an earnest expression on his face. “You’re funny, and whip smart, and you don’t take anyone’s shit. There’s compassion and a goodness that I haven’t seen in anyone in a long time.”

Perhaps you’ve hit your head and you’re dreaming this. Maybe there’s a chance you inadvertently ingested some kind of hallucinogen at an enemy’s lair. Whatever it is, there is no way that Steve Rogers is standing in front of you, singing your praises like this. Not in the real world. Never once had you imagined the feelings reciprocated, so this must be a figment of your deepest desires.

“What?” is all you manage to say.

Steve’s brows knit over the bridge of his nose, desperation threading through every feature on his face.

“You can’t possibly think I wouldn’t fall for you, can you?” he asks gently. “That I haven’t noticed you? Y/N, you’re almost the only thing I notice anymore.”

"Well, that's a good way to get yourself killed during a mission."

You didn't mean to say it, and the moment solidifies around you, even the molecules in the air coming to a stand still. Steve’s eyes sparkle, blinking in slow motion as he moves forward. The corner of his mouth twitches upward in a sweet smirk. 

“What a way to go, then,” he says, within reaching distance of your hand. 

“So much for our selfless leader,” you giggle.

He hesitates for a moment, but when you move to offer your hand, he reaches out with his, his fingers curling around yours. The blue in his eyes glints in the low light of the gym, hinting not a single bit of insincerity. 

“There is something wrong with your ranking, though,” you say after a moment, amused at the almost-surprise in his expression as he straightens his posture.

“What do you mean?”

You grin before replying, “You should definitely have taken the number one spot.”

Steve relaxes, chuckling as he glances away. His free hand combs through his hair.

“Over Thor?” he says. “No way that’s happening.”

“Please,” you answer, finding your gumption and pulling him closer; the two of you are close enough to feel each other’s breaths on your faces, “There’s no contest.”

One more tug on his hand and his lips meet yours, hesitant at first, but with a sigh, the pair of you relax into each other. Lips parting, you taste his breath, minty and clean, as his hands find your waist, pulling you flush against his front. 

“If you say so,” he says as he pulls away, gazing into your eyes as he smiles, his expression a little dazed, a little satisfied. 

“Oh, Cap,” you reply, your hand above his wildly beating heart. “I do say so.”

[let-your-chaos-explode]

Stay With Me

Summary: Not long after the events of Bottled Appetites, Yennefer decides to confront Tissaia.

Yennefer surveyed the raucous party through masked eyes. The frivolities of minor nobles had grown tedious. It had been three months since she had lost her opportunity with the Djinn and destroyed the comfortable lifestyle she had grown accustomed to in Rhinde. Fuck it all. The Witcher had left her without so much as a backwards glance, and though she didn’t have such a deep yearning for the White Wolf, the abandonment still stung like a slap to the face. Much like every other person in her life had done. She supposed she should be used to it by now. Even if you were a beauty, still no one would love you. Yennefer snatched a goblet of wine from the tray of a passing servant and shot it back. Fuck Tissaia too. The thought of their exchange the night before the dreadful events still left her blood boiling. Funnily enough, the cold pit of guilt she felt in her gut did nothing to balance her rage. All the barbs that she carefully crafted and thrown at the other woman left a bitter taste in her mouth. She wanted her to hurt. She wanted her to hurt the same way that she did. Maybe then Yennefer might believe that even a small part of her cared for her. The woman didn’t even flinch and simply left when dismissed. And again Yennefer was left wanting and alone. Tissaia was good at that. She grabbed another glass and started drinking this one slightly slower. She had started to make herself comfortable in the castle of Denesle by charming the young aspiring knight. She had convinced them all of the wealth and power she would bring to their name in exchange for housing and coin. They had thrown a harvest ball in her honor, convinced her arrival was divine intervention that yielded a bountiful crop. Who was she to say otherwise? Yennefer snorted into her goblet. She had her eyes set on her own goals. Whispers of a golden dragon. And yet Tissaia’s words still haunted her. The seductive timber of her voice, the intoxicating smell of vanilla and sandalwood as she stood behind her, the smallest smile in the mirror... Yennefer clenched her teeth against the familiar desire that burned in her veins. Decades of nights spent with other as she pretended they were someone else. Decades of nights alone as her own fingers worked furiously to fantasies of slender fingers, a pale neck, a scathing tongue. This time she grabbed the bottle. How was it that she was always the one who was left so affected? Maybe she could pretend the fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle were actually around her lying throat. Gods, she needed some air. Yennefer stumbled out into the gardens and nearly tripped on the train of her elegant gown. Growling in frustration, she collapsed in front of the estate’s well-manicured rose bush. The potent fragrance did nothing to quell the spinning of her head. Yennefer reaches out and snapped off a rose at the stem, pricking her fingers good on the angry thorns. This too reminded her of Tissaia and goddamn she couldn’t get the woman out of her head! How fitting. Her clumsy fingers smeared blood across the pure white petals of the flower. Did she have any idea of how shattered she left people? Did she even care? Yennefer took another swig from the rapidly draining bottle. Someone should tell her. Someone should tell her just how much of a bitch she is. I’m going to tell her. With unmatched drunken impulsivity, she stumbled through a portal.

Yennefer crashed through the other side and immediately started heaving.

“Yennefer?!” Came Tissaia’s startled gasp. “What, how did you get in here?” Yennefer ignored the loud shout of surprise and rested her forehead against the cool stone as she gathered her bearings. A splash of water and another annoying round of questions. “What are you doing here? How did you get past my security wards?” “Shut up!” Yennefer hissed through clenched teeth. “Can’t you just refrain from lecture for once in your miserable life?” “You’re drunk.” Tissaia surmised. “And you’re a bitch.” Yennefer answered. Yennefer had yet to open her eyes or ascend from her position sprawled out on the floor. Traveling via portal was never comfortable and now she couldn’t get her vision to stop swimming. “You’re a downright frigid bitch. Have you ever loved a day in your life? Or cared for something other than your precious Aretuza? Did you ever care for me?” She continued. Her words were slurred but she figured she got her point across. She heard another slosh of water and felt something solid collide violently with her temple, doing nothing to ease the pounding ache. “Get out.” Tissaia seethed. “Ow. What the fuck, Tissaia?” Yennefer rocked back on her hands and knees and settled on her haunches, cradling the spot where she had been assaulted. Finally, she opened her eyes. Was she in a bathroom? Yennefer scanned the room briefly before her eyes settled on Tissaia’s. The Rectoress lounged comfortably against the edge of a full, bubbly tub. Her hair was piled into a loose knot at the top of her head and her cheeks flushed with the heat. She was the picture of contentment, except for the fire in her eyes and the snarl on her lips. Yennefer dumbly took another look around to confirm her conclusion. “Are you saying these things to try to hurt me or to make yourself feel better?” Tissaia  snaps. Yennefer is still reeling over the fact that she is standing in Tissaia’s bathroom with the woman naked before her. It was almost like she had died and gone to heaven. “Did I die?” The words tumble from her mouth before she can catch them. “How much have you had to drink tonight?” Tissaia asks her through narrowed eyes, anger receding in favor of vague concern. Yennefer shakily pulls herself to a stand using the edge of Tissaia’s tub.  “Oh don’t act like you care!” She didn’t even attempt to hide a peek inside. Unfortunately, the bubbles did a well enough job of keeping things covered. That didn’t stop Tissaia from attempting to slap her away. “Well, you can’t blame a girl for trying!” “How much have you had, Yennefer?” Tissaia asks again as she pinches the bridge of her nose in frustration. Yennefer sways a bit on her feet and sarcastically makes a show of counting on her fingers before landing on a singular, vulgar one. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Grow up!” A snort. A giggle. “Did you just say fuck?” Tissaia does not deign to answer. “Is it for fuck sake or for fucks sake?” “It’s for fuck’s sake. Apostrophe as in for the sake of the fuck.” “Oh my god, Tissaia please go on. Say fuck again, you’re turning me on.” A dark blush climbs up from the cover of bubbles at her chest to her cheeks. Yennefer once again feels the surge of affection she had been trying so hard to replace with bitterness. “You’re so beautiful.” If Tissaia wasn’t caught off guard by any of the other surprises of the evening, Yennefer finally got her with this one. “Why are you here?” Yennefer swayed once more and stumbled closer to the tub, falling to her knees before the older sorceress. She said nothing for a moment, merely letting her fingers swirl wistfully in the water. “I needed you to know how much of a cold-hearted witch that you are.” She states simply. Yennefer does not see Tissaia bristle. Her eyes are transfixed on the shimmering rivers of the soap as they follow her fingertips. “I needed you to know how broken you manage to leave me feeling every time that you leave. How I can’t stand that I’ve never managed to mean a damn thing to you even after all these years. How, despite everything, I can’t get you out of my head.” Tissaia sucks in a shallow breath and Yennefer stills her hands. Slowly, she drags violet eyes up to meet blue. Tissaia had leaned forward and pressed her knees tightly against her chest, her arms crossed in front.  For the first time ever, she seemed vulnerable... and not from her lack of clothing. “But most of all, I can’t stand that I think I’m in love with you.” Yennefer holds her gaze steadily. “You don’t mean that.” Tissaia argued, voice strained. “I am in love with you. And you don’t even see me! Hardly worth the four marks you wasted.” Tissaia grabs her chin and holds it firmly, not allowing Yennefer to escape from the drunken confession. “You are worth so much more.” She relaxes her grip only slightly and runs her thumb over the bottom of Yennefer’s lip. Yennefer can feel the gentle probe of her consciousness against her own walls and cannot bring herself to put up a fight. Instead, she lets all her emotions come rushing through like the waters of a broken dam. She doesn’t know what Tissaia was looking for, or if she found it. But the flood of emotions must have overwhelmed the sorceress who preached control. Tissaia pressed her forehead against Yennefer’s and let out a sob as hot tears leaked from behind clenched eyes. Tissaia pulled back and stroked her cheek gently. “I have always loved you Yennefer. It was you I never dreamed would ever love me. You never gave me one indication, one opening to show you more than I already have. Didn’t I give you any clue? I’ve given you so much of me! So much more than I have given anyone, ever. But you were too insecure to ever understand that!” Yennefer couldn’t control it. She was way past three sheets to the wind and so she just started laughing. Of course the universe would find it hilarious to throw her this curveball. Or she really was dead. That option was still entirely possible. She disentangled herself and once more tripped over gown in her haste to escape through the door. The handle wouldn’t budge and the torches around them grew with a rage. “You don’t get to run from this! Not this time!” Tissaia rose from the tub like a goddess rising from the sea. The propriety of her high-collared gowns betrayed her level of modesty, as she did nothing to hide from Yennefer’s hungry eyes. Eyes that followed every rivulet as it cascaded over luscious curves and planes that Yennefer wanted to follow with her tongue. Tissaia toweled off and, to Yennefer’s disappointment, covered herself with a black silken robe. Uncomfortable with the silent intensity of the moment, Yennefer began to fidget and found a particular stone in the floor to deeply inspect. She portaled in, she could portal out, right? Forget this mess ever happened. She stiffened slightly as the woman prowled behind her. “You stink of vomit and alcohol.” She said into her ear. The whisper of her breath against Yennefer’s neck beckoned gooseflesh to erupt over her skin. The sensation lingered as Tissaia’s clever fingers began to expertly undo the laces of her gown, tips ghosting across her shoulders and back. “You will bathe and get some rest.” Tissaia commanded. And whatever Tissaia wants, Tissaia gets. Yennefer swallowed thickly as the material of her gown slid down her arms. She could feel the gentle brush of the older women’s breasts against her back as she leaned forward to slide the gown completely off her wrists. Her own nipples pebbled in the humid air of the bath and in arousal as Tissaia kneeled before her. The Great Tissaia De Vries was on her knees, naked, except for a thin robe, and in prime position for all sorts of salacious activities. She looked up at her through dark lashes as she shimmied the fabric over Yennefer’s hips and let it fall to the floor. Slowly, seductively, she stood. Yennefer was never more thankful than now to have at least 4 inches on the older sorceress. “You’re thinking so loud, I can see what you want.” Tissaia whispers against her. Tissaia takes a step back and looks back toward the tub. With a wave of her hand, the water is refreshed and steaming. “You will not get that from me tonight, Piglet.” A solid punch to the gut. “You are far too inebriated. You would have regrets in the morning.” Yennefer takes a step toward her and Tissaia mirrors one step back. Yennefer reaches out to touch her, “I could never regret...” “You have already regretted me.” Tissaia interrupts. Yennefer may be drunk, but even she could hear the undercurrent of hurt. “Bathe. I trust you can manage that. You may sleep in my chambers tonight, I worry about the stability of your portals in your state. If you are still here come morning, we can discuss what has happened tonight.” With a nod of finality, she took a wide step around her and slipped quietly through the door into her bedroom. Well, this was not how she imagined this night going. Yennefer let out a long exhale and stepped carefully into the hot tub. The scent of lilac and gooseberries surrounded her and a smile stretched across her cheeks; Tissaia remembered. The warm, wetness that enveloped her did nothing to quell the throbbing between her legs. A devilish smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth. If Tissaia was going to leave her wanting, she would suffer the same fate. Yennefer dunked her head below the surface and made quick work of washing her hair. She surveyed the soaps and oils and settled on a sweet vanilla, a scent entirely Tissaia. She palmed the oil and slowly started massaging it into her arms and down her legs, lowering her mental barriers as she worked. Her fingers skimmed back up her thighs and ghosted over her breasts to work the kinks in her neck. The pressure in the juncture of her shoulder was just right, and she allowed herself a small moan. A sharp knock at the door followed. “Are you alright?” Tissaia asked behind the door with mild concern. “I’m doing quite fine, thanks! I haven’t managed to drown yet!” Yennefer called back, voice laced with sarcasm. She could almost see the Rectoress roll her eyes through the door. If she only knew what was coming. Yennefer let her presence expand and open up to Tissaia, should she reach out in curiosity. And she let her fingers continue. Gathering more oil, she liberally applied it to her belly. Practiced fingers swirled the viscous fluid up to her chest and around her erect nipples. She circled them slowly, grazing dusky peaks with her fingernails before giving firm tugs. She envisioned Tissaia over her, hair unpinned and flowing freely down her naked form. Her clever mouth sucking and biting at the sensitive flesh of her breast. Another pleasured moan escaped her lips. And the sound of something crashing to the floor. A book maybe? Yennefer didn’t let it stop her. Her fingers voyaged south and teased the outside of her folds. She pictured it clearly and pushed the images forcefully out: She threaded her fingers through chestnut locks and guided Tissaia downward. Licks, nips, and kisses in trails from her chest to her mound where she firmly held the sorceress right where she wanted her. Tissaia nuzzled the trimmed nest of curls before diving in. A slow, tantalizing lick from her base to her clit ending with a firm swirl of the tongue around her pearl. Yennefer’s fingers worked tirelessly to the images she conjured. Her breaths came in quick pants and she was already so close to the edge. “Oh, Tissaia!” She moaned once more. This time, the scandalized gasp was perfectly clear from behind the door. Yennefer slid a finger easily inside, and then another. A sigh, a gasp, a plea. ‘You are being entirely inappropriate.’ Tissaia interrupts in her head, breathless and strained. Yennefer pushes through more explicit images. She imagines taking all of the control from the rigid Rectoress. She shows her vivid images of binding her to the bed using silken scarves, blindfolding her, and pleasuring her with her mouth. She shows Tissaia visions of herself crashing into orgasm after orgasm and screaming Yennefer’s name. This was enough to push Yennefer over the edge and she came hard around her fingers, Tissaia’s name on her lips like a ringing hallelujah. ’Oh!’ Very well satisfied on all fronts, Yennefer drained the bath and walked out into Tissaia’s bedchamber. The older woman sat perched stiffly at the edge of her bed, cheeks blazing and shifting uncomfortably. Yennefer stood tall in front of her with a salacious smile wide across her face, nude, and dripping water all over the floor. Tissaia rose to the challenge and glared up at her with her chin jut out. “Are you proud of yourself?” Yennefer takes that final step forward and straddles her lap, wrapping her arms loosely around her neck and twirling  the wispy hairs she finds at her nape. She can feel the heat radiating off of Tissaia through the thin fabric of her nightgown. Boldly, she thrusts her fingers into Tissaia’s chignon and with a quick pull, her long hair tumbles free. Tissaia fists the sheets in a white-knuckled grasp to keep her hands still as she drops her head against Yennefer’s shoulder. In a rare moment of vulnerability, she lets her hair fall in a curtain to shield her face. “Yennefer, please.” And even Tissaia is uncertain if she is begging her to stop or continue. Yennefer grinds her core against Tissaia’s thigh and forcefully pushes her back into the bed, pinning her wrists above her head. “Touch me Tissaia.” She commands as she nuzzles the column of her throat. She can feel her swallow hard before she is jolted backward with a conjured electric current. The shock is only mildly painful, and gives her enough of a hint to remove her person completely from above Tissaia. “If you don’t want me, all you have to do is say so.” Yennefer bites out with the sting of rejection quite clear. Yennefer turns her back and scoots to the very edge of the bed. Tissaia follows and gently rests her hand at her shoulder. “I will not be responsible for taking advantage of you. Please don’t put that on me.”  She whispers. She is met with a brooding silence and she sighs. Tissaia conjures a black nightgown and passes it over wordlessly and Yennefer snatches it angrily from her hands. “I’m sorry.” Tissaia tries again as Yennefer yanks the fabric over her head. Again she is met with stubborn silence. “At least stay tonight. Tomorrow, you may leave if you wish. Yennefer, I just want you to be safe.” Yennefer huffs, but crawls into the bed and snuggles deep under the covers. Tissaia lets a small smile pull at the corner of her mouth at the childish antics. She returns to her designated side and begins the process of plaiting her hair when a hand at her elbow brings her to a halt. “Don’t.” Yennefer whispers. “I like it down.” Tissaia concedes the request and settles in next to Yennefer. The air between them is measurably tense. After what seemed like years, Yennefer closed the distance between them and wrapped her pinky around Tissaia’s. “I feel like steaming horse shit.” Tissaia rolls over to fully face her. “Come here.” Yennefer scoots in and snuggles deep into Tissaia’s open and waiting arms. Her much larger frame tucks under Tissaia’s chin and curls around her legs, enveloping Tissaia entirely. A contented smile graces her face as she feels slender fingers begin to scratch her scalp. Tissaia begins to hum a slow, calming melody beneath her and its effect is instantaneous. Yennefer feels her eyes grow heavy, and for once, she is happy in the arms that hold her. Just as she’s about to fall over the edge, the thinks she hears Tissaia whisper, “Stay with me, please. It’s time to stop running.” She thinks maybe this time she will.

[purplesurveys]

1124

survey by nadine07

Three Names You Are Called:

1. Robyn, by virtually everybody. 

2. Byn, by close family members.

3. For some reason I have some friends who call me Bynbyn? even though I never established it as a nickname?? but they use it as an affectionate nickname so ultimately I don’t mind it. It just takes me aback sometimes, lmao.

Three Colors You Are Wearing At the Moment:

1. Red

2. White

3. Pink. Or light purple, depending on how you see it.

The Last Three People To Call You:

1. My mom, though I missed the call because I was at work earlier.

2. I just saw that Ysa, my director, also tried to call me. This story is so fucking stupid...I physically went to the office last Wednesday to pack some groceries, and all day long I had been leaving the door slightly ajar every time I had to go out because I haven’t had my biometrics enrolled yet and I don’t hold the keys to the office (and I was the only one who requested to go there for that day).

Of course, knowing my luck, the door slipped while I was out (I had to very briefly hand a package to a courier), locking me out of the goddamn office with all my shit inside. Even worse, I had a meeting going on with a client – I had speaking parts assigned to me, and I got locked out like 30 seconds before my part would start. I’m guessing Ysa called me during the time I disappeared but I obviously couldn’t have answered the phone. It was infuriating, especially since my manager had to cover for my slides which she didn’t practice for.

I’ll no longer get into how I managed to get back inside since it’s another embarrassing and complicated story altogether, but suffice it to say I was really upset about the whole thing and I still feel uneasy imagining how that meeting could’ve gone down with my disappearance.

3. A courier. They usually call when they’re already arrived where you are, so that they know where exactly to meet up with you.

Three Days You Look Forward To Each Year:

1. My birthday, because it’s kinda cool turning into a different age.

2. Whenever Wrestlemania is scheduled, which is usually late March or early April.

3. ...I don’t have any either favorite days/dates.

Three Jobs You've Had:

1. PR associate.

2. That’s my first job. I’ve had two internships before that, and they were both at PR agencies.

3. -

Three Bands/Singers You Love:

1. Paramore

2. Beyoncé

3. The Japanese House

Three People You've Talked To Today:

1. It’s exactly 7 AM. I could’ve talked to my parents when they headed downstairs earlier but I pretended I was still asleep on the couch so that they couldn’t, hahaha. They’ve since gone out to jog. I don’t think I’ve said a word at all yet this morning, actually.

2. -

3. -

Three Things You Could Grab From Where You're Sitting:

1. My phone.

2. The other end of this table.

3. My vape pen.

The Last Three Things You've Had to Drink:

1. I most recently had a glass of water after I finished my bag of salted egg chips.

2. I finished off the last of my coffee.

3. I also drank soju last night as an impromptu thing because I saw that I still had a peach-flavored one (my favorite) in the fridge.

Three People You Can Always Count On:

1. Angela.

2. Andi.

3. I’m also gonna name Pia even though we aren’t the closest. Girl has been crazy supportive over the last few months.

Three Places You Want to Go:

1. That I haven’t been to yet? Seoul in South Korea.

2. Thailand.

3. Morocco.

The Last Three Places You've Gone:

1. Other than places in the house – the local coffee shop inside my village.

2. The office.

3. The Starbucks beside the office. I had arrived a bit early so I had some time to walk over there and order something.

The Last Three Non-Relatives You've Hung Out With:

1. Angela.

2. Hans.

3. We were 8 in the group the last time we went out lol. But aside from the above, Pia (a different one) was the one who made the most effort to talk to me as well.

Three People To Be Stranded On A Desert Island With:

1. Angela.

2. Kate.

3. Not sure. Maybe Al for some comic relief while we try to survive there?

Three Smells You Love:

1. Cookies being baked.

2. A hotel room.

3. Seafood.

Three People You Look Up To:

1. Angela’s mom.

2. Andi.

3. My manager, Bea. Well she just got promoted, so I guess I’ll call her my director now, hahaha.

Three Places You've Lived:

1. The duplex where I mostly grew up, just a village away from my current one. I got to experience living in either house, as well.

2. Tondo, Manila. With my dad’s family.

3. Sampaloc, Manila. My parents briefly had an apartment and I was there for like a few months as a newborn.

Three Good Teachers You've Had:

1. My music teacher for the entirety of high school.

2. My professor in international relations.

3. My professor in my social history and history of Filipino women electives.

Three Things You're Good At:

1. I gotta say I’m great at parking, hahaha. Backward parking, parallel parking, you name it.

2. Going through my to-do list and finishing off every task by the end of the day.

3. Reflexes, or reacting/responding immediately, especially in games.

The Last Three People You've Kissed:

1. Gabie.

2. -

3. -

The Last Three People You've Dated:

1. Gabie.

2. -

3. -

Three People With Whom You've Shared a Secret:

1. Andi.

2. JM.

3. Jo was the first person I informed about my breakup, and I didn’t even reveal it publicly until like three months after. I didn’t expect to confide in her especially since we aren’t the closest, but I think I was just desperate to tell someone then to finally acknowledge reality.

Three Irresponsible Things You've Done:

1. Vape.

2. Road rage.

3. Leave my laptop in a classroom as I left to go to another class, in another building.

Three Movies You Love:

1. Two for the Road.

2. Revolutionary Road.

3. Room.

The Last Three People You've Gone to the Movies With:

1. Angela.

2. Leigh.

3. Gabie.

The Last Three People You've Ridden in a Car With:

1. Laurice.

2. Kuya Toby.

3. Lui.

Three Facts About Your #1:

1. Can I name my best friends instead? Angela is in her final year of college taking up architecture.

2. She has two shih tzus, Hailey and Kennedy.

3. Her mom is a pediatrician and has her own clinic in their home.

Three Places You've Gone With Your #2:

1. I haven’t been too adventurous with Andi...most recently we’ve gone to a Korean barbecue joint for a one-on-one catch up date.

2. TK.

3. Rita’s house.

Three Things You've Done With Your #3:

1. Kate works for the government.

2. Last time I talked to her, she’s still set on retake a law school exam after not getting admitted to her campus of choice last year.

3. She had a bad habit of dating orgmates.

Three Things You Have in Common With Your #4:

1. Laurice is great at debate.

2. She lives in the south, so I don’t get to see her a lot.

3. She has a cute habit of calling many of our friends by their respective honorifics, even though they’re the same age or even when she’s literally older than some of them.

Three Things That Annoy You:

1. Making the effort to go to a store and seeing they’re closed for the day, even though they didn’t indicate it in their social media accounts.

2. Offices of government agencies and their ever-grumpy staff.

3. Filipinos’ tendency to turn 3 lanes into 6 during a traffic jam.

Three Things That Attract You To The Opposite Sex:

1. Asexual. Pass.

2. - 

3. - 

Three Material Items You'd Save If You're House Was On Fire:

1. My laptop, since all my work files and a whole ton of memories are in here.

2. My phone, so I can update family and friends.

3. My glasses. Realistically, I wouldn’t care about any of these and would jump up to grab my dogs instead.

Three Careers You've Considered:

1. Journalist.

2. Lawyer.

3. Historian.

Three Things You Wish You Knew About Your Future:

1. Whether marriage or kids will be part of mine.

2. When I’m dying, and what from.

3. Where I’ll end up living, and what kind of housing.

The Last Three Songs You Listened To:

1. Wait On - Hayley Williams

2. Good Grief - Hayley Williams

3. Over Those Hills - Hayley Williams. Stream Flowers for Vases, friends.

Three Things You Consider Lucky:

1. I don’t believe in lucky charms.

2. - 

3. - 

Three T.V. Show Characters You Wish Were Real:

1. Mr. Peanutbutter from BoJack Horseman.

2. Chandler Bing from Friends.

3. Glenn Rhee from The Walking Dead.

Three Issues You Have Strong Opinions On:

1. Racial equality. 

2. Gender equality.

3. Abortion rights.

Three Things You Wish You Could Change About Yourself:

1. That I wasn’t so clumsy at work.

2. That I wasn’t too selfless all the time to just about anyone.

3. That I had a better hold of my finances and keep spending just because I’m still within budget, heheh.

Three People From Your Past You Wish You Could Spend a Day With:

1. My grandpa, who passed away before I could properly grow up and shoot the shit with him over some beer.

2. Nacho.

3. Sofie, so we can properly catch up, just the two of us.

Three Famous People You'd Like to Meet:

1. Beyoncé.

2. Hayley Williams.

3. Leni Robredo.

Three Things You Are Wearing:

1. A t-shirt.

2. A pair of shorts.

3. Underwear.

The Last Three Places You Went That Were More Than 2 Hours Away:

1. Tagaytay.

2. My dad’s family’s home in Laguna.

3. Those are the only places we’ve been to where we had to travel for a while.

The Last Three Reasons You Went to the Hospital:

1. Blood and urine test for my ~mystery illness~ last year.

2. I had to be confined for a couple of days because of low platelet count.

3. ...I was born. I haven’t made many trips to the hospital. 

Three Things You Are Addicted To:

1. I’ve never felt comfortable using the term addicted because it’s an actual condition...but if you mean to ask for what I’m hooked to at the moment, I’d go with coffee.

2. And salted egg chips. I literally bought five bags of chips yesterday and I’m already finished with my third.

3. Anything Korean, tbh. Korean food, shows, music, etc...the Korean Wave is very strong over here and I’ve finally been reeled all the way in.

Three Favorite Colors:

1. Baby pink or pastel pink.

2. Mustard yellow.

3. Maroon.

Three Things You Will Do Now That This Is Over:

1. Find another one to take for later.

2. Finish my breakfast, and maybe heat up some leftover pasta because I’m still hungry.

3. Maybe get my embroidering template so I can make some progress today.

[strawberrysoup]

Let’s Review || Chapter 4

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn’t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks.

relationship: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character/Bucky Barnes, background Peter Parker/Tony Stark rating: Explicit warnings: Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Bucky Barnes, Dark Tony Stark, Dark Avengers, kidnapping, non-con/dub-con elements, underage Peter Parker, emotional and psychological abuse, very dark

When she was younger, Penny could remember her mother blaming little problems around the house on trolls. She said they were little gremlin like creatures that crept around in the dark and sabotaged things just enough to be inconvenient. Whenever Penny forgot something stupid, or worse, something important, she blamed the trolls. Forgetting her purse? The trolls. Forgetting to turn off the lights when she left the apartment? The trolls. Forgetting to make a to-do list? Trolls, obviously.

The latter, of course, was the worst. Forgetting to do things was annoying, but forgetting to do them even though you’d thought about making a to-do list and then just didn’t? A nightmare. Fucking trolls.

Penny had left the apartment with all the necessities; shoes, purse, phone, keys. She had a plan in mind that started with an outrageously expensive coffee and ended with a haircut. She knew what her plan was, had everything she needed. And that’s why she blamed trolls for the way her morning went.

When she got in line to get her coffee, she dug into her purse only to find that her wallet wasn’t in it. Which was ridiculous, because her wallet was always in her purse. She never took it out at home. The only options were that A. Peter took it (a joke) or B. She had been pickpocketed on the subway. Her head dropped back on her shoulders and she groaned loudly, ignoring the looks from the hipsters surrounding her.

“Ma’am, are you alright?”

Penny startled slightly and turned, not expecting a voice to come from quite so close behind her. The coffee shop was super busy, she shouldn’t have been so shocked that the patron behind her was so close, but it still startled her to nearly bump her nose on the man’s chest. She rocked back on her heel in surprise, nearly falling over if it wasn’t for the man reaching out and steadying her by the shoulders.

“Are you alright? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

His hands were fucking huge. They covered her shoulders entirely and curled down towards her shoulder blades, his grip tight enough to keep her on her feet but not bruising.

“Ma’am?”

“I’m,” she gulped slightly and shook her head, “sorry, I’m fine, just a drama queen I guess.”

“Are you sure? You seemed bothered by something before I scared you.”

Penny gave a small shrug and sighed with a self-deprecating smile on her face, “I think I was pickpocketed on the subway, my wallet’s gone. Should’ve been paying more attention I guess.”

She needed to get back home and call the bank, her debit card and credit card were in that wallet. And her driver’s license too, which meant a trip to the DMV. Was it even worth it to get a new one at this point? She literally planned to be in jail (prison?) by the end of the week.

“That’s horrible,” the frown on the man’s face didn’t do anything to mar how stupidly beautiful he was, “let me buy your coffee.”

“What? Oh my God, no, you don’t have to do that!” Penny had forgotten that his hands were still on her shoulders until she lifted her arms to wave off his concern, accidentally bumping against his elbows.

“Please, I’d like to,” he moved his arms, only to grab her flailing hands for just a moment before letting them go and moving to stand at her side rather than behind her, “my boyfriend should be showing up any moment and he’d skin me if I didn’t pay for you.”

She momentarily considered that Fuck All the Good Ones Really Are Gay right before relief filled her. Ever since the incident with Brock, men showing any amount of interest in her gave her goosebumps. Having a boyfriend meant that this one at least couldn’t have any ulterior motives, he was literally just being a good person. A genuine smile crossed her face at the realization.

“I guess it would be in bad taste for me to say no then, I wouldn’t want your boyfriend to skin you alive.”

“Alive?” The blond beside her laughed, a bone achingly deep and attractive laugh, “I want to point out that you escalated that, I assumed I would be dead before he skinned me.”

“Why am I skinning you, alive or dead?”

The man who appeared was definitely on par with the Adonis she’d already been speaking to. Standing next to each other, it was like looking at the cover of Men’s Fitness. He was tall and tan and built like a fucking tank, his shoulders looked so broad she wondered how he fit through doorways. Both of them, actually, how did either of them fit through doorways with shoulders wider than most people’s arm spans? Okay, that was an exaggeration but Penny was just about floored by how freaking attractive they both were.

“For not offering to pay for her coffee after she got her wallet stolen,” the blond responded with a grin, leaning over slightly to kiss his boyfriend’s cheek.

“You get mugged, sweetheart?” The frown on the brunet’s face was a goddamn crime and Penny quickly shook her head.

“No, no! Just pickpocketed, I think. Probably on the subway, I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should’ve been. It’s really not a big deal, I didn’t have any cash on me and I’ll just have my cards cancelled,” she gave a shrug and moved forward with the line, trying to pretend she wasn’t actually super upset over having to deal with yet another heap of bullshit.

“Well, Stevie’s right anyway, I’d skin him for not buying you a coffee. Are you traumatized doll? I’ll make him spring for a scone too.” Did he just wink at her? Penny’s told her heart not to stutter like that, he had a boyfriend for fuck’s sake.

“I don’t think I’m traumatized,” Penny turned big, brown eyes on the blond and tilted her head down for effect, “but I might be a little shaken, like enough for a cake pop.”

She didn’t notice the way both of them gripped each other’s waists, as if having to hold each other up under the onslaught of her puppy dog eyes, or the way that the brunet pinched his boyfriend’s side to keep him from offering her the entire world on a platter if she asked for it.

“A cake pop it is, sweetheart,” Stevie (Steve, Penny she supposed she should probably call him) gave her a nearly blinding grin and she had to stop herself from taking a step back in awe, “What’ll you have to drink?”

“A vanilla latte? Please,” she cleared her throat slightly, “Steve, was it? And you are?”

“Call me Bucky,” the brunet held his hand out for her to take and she hesitated for only a second, reminding herself again that they were gay, gay, gay before she shook it, “What’s your name sweetheart?”

“I’m Penny, thank you guys for being so kind,” they’d made it to the register and she stepped aside slightly so that Steve could center himself in front of the barista.

“Large black coffee, large white mocha, and a large vanilla latte please,” he ordered politely, before putting his arm around Penny’s shoulder and nudging her towards the dessert display, “Which cake pop did you want doll?”

Penny had to literally reign herself in under the weight of his arm, to not go stiff in fear or swoon at the feeling, “t-the, uhm, chocolate one, please.”

“And a chocolate cake pop,” Steve directed the barista with a smile.

“And a blueberry scone,” Bucky interrupted, jabbing his finger at the case, “And one of those giant chocolate chip cookies.”

The barista glanced at Steve for confirmation, who just nodded in response and held out a matte black credit card, “you two go sit, I’ll bring everything out once it’s done.”

“Ah finally, let’s ditch this punk, sweetheart,” Bucky snatched Penny’s hand and tugged her away from the line, heading for a table in the corner that was recently vacated.

She just barely heard Steve scoff before they got too far away, letting Bucky pull out her chair before sitting down. It vaguely registered in the back of her mind that this was the most bizarrely pleasant situation she’d ever been in. Considering the amount of shit she dealt with on a regular basis, it was a breath of fresh air. It was kind of a shame she hadn’t met the pair of them before she’d started actively planning how to get thrown in jail.  

“I think Stevie made a mistake,” Bucky snorted, breaking her from her thoughts and drawing her attention to Steve, who was fumbling with three coffees and several pastries.

The squeaking noise she made upon standing to go help was not deliberate and actually kind of embarrassing. She was pretty sure Bucky laughed at it as she walked away, quickly stealing one of the coffees and two of the pastry bags from Steve’s hands.

“Thanks doll, nice to know one of you has some manners,” Steve shot his boyfriend a look as he and Penny sat down, winking at the brunet when she wasn’t looking.

“You know, you’re lucky you’re so good looking or I wouldn’t put up with this kind of BS,” Bucky stated casually, reaching over to snatch his mocha from Steve’s grasp.

Steve rolled his eyes but didn’t reply to his boyfriend, “so, Penny, what do you do?”

The casual opening for conversation made Penny immediately uncomfortable and she shifted in her seat as he passed over her coffee and cake pop, “oh, lots of things. Barista, day care, that sort of stuff.”

“Day care, huh? You a kid person?” Bucky asked as he took a sip of his coffee, grimacing slightly as he burnt his tongue, “that shit’s hot, watch your tongue, doll.”

Penny shifted the cup between her hands carefully but avoided drinking any, “Kids are precious. Annoying as all Hell sometimes, but I do like working with them. I’m usually with the infants anyway, toddlers occasionally. At that age they’re just cute.”

“We never been around kids too much,” Bucky shoved almost half of the blueberry scone into his mouth in one go, mumbling something around the bite immediately after.

Steve rolled his eyes and reached across the table from his place next to Penny, pulling the scone away and replacing it with a napkin, “manners, jerk. I think he was saying we’ve only been around older kids.”

Bucky nodded in response, picking up the napkin to wipe his face before gesturing for the rest of the scone. Instead of giving it back, Steve pushed it in front of Penny before resting his arm over the back of her chair.

“Let Penny have some before you murder the rest of it, Buck,” the blond admonished, “have at, sweetheart.”

“Oh, that’s alright, I don’t need any,” she shook her head and pushed the bag over to Bucky, “thank you though.”

“Nah doll, you eat the rest of this, I’m gonna hit this cookie.”

He repeated the process of sticking at least 50% of the cookie into his mouth in one go, chewing obnoxiously while Steve dropped his face into his hands in embarrassment.

“You’re a nightmare, I can’t believe I bring you out in public.”

Penny laughed happily at their exchange, enjoying the casual friendliness. She got so wrapped up in the whole experience that by the time she noticed the clock, two hours had gone by.

“Oh shit! I’ve got so much to do today and—crap, I’ve gotta go home so I can cancel my credit cards,” she slapped a hand against her forehead, finally remembering that she was busy today. A lot of planning went into getting put in jail for child neglect and she was dropping the ball.

“Here doll, you can borrow my phone to cancel your cards,” Steve started digging into his pocket but Penny waved him off.

“I have a phone, I just have to get on my computer to look up the numbers to call,” she stood up, shoving her hand into her purse to grab her phone, only to freeze.

Her fucking wallet was in her purse. A deep red blush spread over her cheeks and down her neck. It would’ve been one thing to have missed that her wallet was in her purse, but Steve had gone out of his way to pay for her coffee. Embarrassment coursed through her.

“Hey, what’s wrong sweetheart?” Bucky stood from his seat, hand coming to rest on her shoulder as he curled his shoulders down, making her feel engulfed by his presence.

“I,” she closed her eyes and inhaled sharply, “I’m so embarrassed. I just found my wallet, it was in my purse, I swear I wasn’t trying to scam you— it wasn’t in there, I know it wasn’t but now it is and I—”

“Calm down, sweetheart, its alright,” she’d been drawn in to an all-encompassing hug before she really knew what was happening, pressed tightly to Bucky’s chest with his hand gently stroking the back of her head, “we don’t think you scammed us, it was an honest mistake. We’re just glad you didn’t get robbed, right Stevie?”

“Absolutely, doll, I’m glad you found it,” Steve had stood up as well and was standing just beside the pair, close enough that she could feel his body radiating heat, “don’t be embarrassed, things like that happen.”

Tears were welling in Penny’s eyes; how the fuck had she come across such nice, kind people at such a time in her life, “sorry, I don’t mean to be so emotional. Just having a rough go of things, I guess. Look, I really do need to get going. Thank you both so much for being so nice.”

“You don’t have to thank us for being nice,” the blond gave a small grin, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder from where she was still wrapped in Bucky’s arms, “How about we get your phone number before you leave? We’d love to have you over for dinner some time.”

Penny hesitated for a moment as they both reached for their phones; what was the point of giving them her contact information? Her days of freedom were shortly numbered, if they tried to call her they’d think she was ignoring them when she never answered. But still, what was the harm— she’d never see them again most likely. Even when she got out of jail she’d have a record of child abuse and who the fuck wanted to be friends with a child abuser?

She quickly punched her number into their phones and waited for each of them to call her cell so she’d have theirs, “well, it was great meeting you guys! I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Are you going somewhere nearby?” Steve gave a wide smile as he stepped a bit closer, sweeping his arm between himself and Bucky, “we’d be happy to walk you.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Penny shook her head, distracted enough by the phone in her hand and the text message she’d gotten from Peter at some point during their conversation that she didn’t notice the way Steve’s smile tightened, “I’m just going to the salon to get my hair done.”

“We’ll walk you doll,” Bucky’s grin was as charming as the rest of him and she tried not to swoon, “You can tell us who you’re so excited to hear from on the way.”

“Excited to hear from?” She frowned in confusion before the brunet gestured to her phone, “Oh! Just my little brother, he got a 100% on his chem test, highest grade in the class.”

“That’s wonderful, must be a real smart kid,” The expression on Steve’s face was soft and fond as he led them out the door, and Penny wondered if he was thinking of his own little sibling from the proud glint in his eye.

“Peter’s a genius, we always joke that when I was born I took all the chaos and left him all the IQ points,” she flipped her pay-as-you-go phone back open as she received another text from the kid in question, “although with how often he gets his ass beat at school maybe he did get a bit of chaos too. I should’ve taught him to fight but he’s scrawny and I always worried he’d break his wrist trying to punch someone.”

“He gets beat up a lot?” She didn’t look up from her phone, too busy replying to Peter to catch the furious expressions the boyfriends exchanged over her head as they continued down the street.

“Nerd on nerd violence is surprisingly common,” Penny pursed her lips and waved her hand flippantly, “and he doesn’t get beat up anymore. I paid this girl in his grade to beat up his main bully when they were in freshman year and then Peter became friends with her, so he doesn’t get messed with too much anymore. I guess Flash was just super pissed Peter got a better grade in chem this time around,” a careful shrug came as she opened a new text message, “MJ will take care of it. I can’t beat up minors anymore.”

“You paid a girl to beat a kid up?” There was a disapproving tone in Steve’s voice and Penny immediately stopped walking and texting, looking up at the blond with a scowl.

“If it laid hands on the kid they’d of slapped me with a lawsuit and taken Peter away. He was too small to fight for himself, so yea, I paid one of his classmates to beat the shit out of the boy who sent him home with a black eye and bruised ribs. And I’m not ashamed of it either, that little asshole deserved what he got,” she jabbed her finger at his chest and left it there forcefully, “If I could’ve beaten the shit out of that little punk for what he’d done, I would’ve in a heartbeat. MJ was my next best option. If you’ve got a problem with how I take care of my little brother, you can get fucked because I couldn’t care less what some stranger thinks of—”

“Hey, hey, doll,” Bucky quickly stepped in, cutting her off and gently taking her wrist to pull her hand away from Steve’s chest, “I’m sorry my man put his foot in it. He’s a dumbass, doesn’t think before he speaks and certainly doesn’t consider the impact of his words. Steve, apologize.”

Penny pulled her hand away from the brunet and lifted both in a placating gesture, “I’m not interested in an apology, it doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve really got to get going.”

“Wait!” Before she really knew what was happening, Steve had grabbed both her arms and stepped into her space, holding her tightly in place, “please wait, Penny, I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” she tried to pull her arms back but he held firm, keeping her far closer than she was comfortable with, “let go of me, please.”

“You take great care of your brother, Penny, I shouldn’t have judged how you decide to do that.”

Bucky came up right behind, boxing her in between the pair and put his arms on her shoulders when she tried to pull back again, “hey, calm down sweetheart, don’t get upset.”

“Get off me! Both of you!” A spark of panic was starting to shoot through her, voice rising as she yanked hard on her hands and bumped roughly back against Bucky, “Get the fuck off!”

“Hey, what’s going on over here?!” Penny’s head snapped to the left to see a little old lady barging her way through the crowd, garnering the attention of several other people on the way, “you let her go, right now!”

Bucky and Steve pulled away like they’d been burned, both with placating, placid looks on their faces. Penny didn’t stick around to see if they could talk their way out of the situation, taking off down the street in a dead run. They were so fucking charming, so handsome they could probably talk their way out of a paper bag. She continued straight passed the salon she’d planned to stop at and kept running until she couldn’t anymore. Her breath came in exhausting pants and she bent over, holding her chest.

What the fuck, how could such a pleasant morning go so badly so fast? Bucky and Steve had seemed so nice and then out of nowhere thought they could manhandle her however they pleased. She could still feel Steve’s hands circling her wrists, Bucky’s pressing down on her shoulders and her back against his chest. The sensation of being held down hadn’t just been terrifying but had brought back brutal memories of being assaulted.

Just like when she’d been attacked, fury pumped through her veins. Those assholes, those fucking assholes. Penny found herself heading down to the closest subway station and getting on the train towards home. Fuck the salon, fuck getting her nails done, all she wanted to do was crawl into Peter’s bed and hide under the covers. It was easy to forget about everything she had to do that day in the wake of her panic.

Peter was still texting her, she could feel her cell phone vibrating inside of her purse as she boarded the subway and sat down heavily. She’d been out of the apartment for hours, accomplished nothing, and was thoroughly exhausted. Her head dropped back against the window and she clenched her eyes shut. The blows just kept coming. What a nightmare.

[phobiadeficient]

Can I matbe request another Speeding Bullet angry sex drabble? But perhaps this time it's Scout who's angry with Sniper? Only if you want of course and I hope you're staying safe in these times!

what if just this once scout had like standards for how other people get to treat him and talk to him and like instead someone else had to go the extra mile and make an idiot out of themselves instead of him for once and he like demanded a certain amount of respect from the people he allows himself to be vulnerable with like would that be wild or what

(warnings for arguments and a little pushiness at some points)

-

The entire hall was treated to the sound of Scout yelling “FUCK YOU,” followed a few seconds later by the sound of a door slamming loud enough to echo. The wide majority of people who were in their rooms were surprised, but decided against investigating. Demo was the one who gave in to curiosity and peeked out his door to see what had happened.

He was treated to the sight of Sniper standing in the hallway looking absolutely stunned, taken aback, and most of all unsure of what to do. He heard the door creak, and glanced over, eyes wide behind his sunglasses.

Demo raised an eyebrow at him. Sniper made an “I don’t know what to tell you” sort of shrug. Demo’s other eyebrow rose and he ducked back into his room to let him sort out whatever the hell he’d done on his own.

Over the course of the next few days, the rest of the team got to bear witness to Sniper getting the coldest shoulder on the planet as Scout would abruptly start to slam things more and storm out of rooms the second he showed his face. Exactly once someone tried to ask Scout what Sniper did, at which point Scout responded with so much swearing that he wasn’t asked again. At a few different points Sniper was asked the same question, at which point he explained that he was pretty sure talking about it would just get him in more trouble.

Outside of view of the team, there were a couple times where Sniper tried to approach Scout. Every time, Scout would make an excuse to get away from him, and lacking that he would just leave outright. At one point he tried to corner Scout, but unfortunately for him, Scout’s whole thing mostly consisted of being great at climbing.

For a little while, he considered waiting for Scout to stop being mad. He realized almost immediately that Scout was fully capable and entirely willing to just be angry forever and he really, really didn’t want that.

It was pretty late one night when Sniper steeled himself and walked into base to track down Scout to talk to him, and he was promptly informed that Scout had gone out for a run.

It was getting pretty late, and the many half-ruined entirely-abandoned buildings that they commonly found themselves getting murdered in and around looked very different in the lighting of sunset. And with no leads other than a general direction he hadn’t really expected to get anywhere close to tracking Scout down, especially since Scout was actively avoiding him at all costs. Luckily for him, he heard the light clatter of shifting roof as he passed one of the buildings.

It took him about ten minutes and a considerable amount of noise and he almost lost his hat three times and sunglasses twice in the process of climbing up onto the roof. To be completely honest, he was half convinced that he would get up there and found that Scout had left while he was climbing. But he crested up over the lip of the roof and was relieved to see that Scout was still up there, lying on his back with his hands behind his head, staring up into the sky.

He sat himself down a good few feet away, sweaty and out of breath and a little sore. Scout glanced over at him, face uncomfortably blank.

“See, now you’ve fucked up,” Scout said calmly, “because I can get down from here by myself and you totally can’t. You’re gonna break your fuckin’ legs. You’re an idiot.”

Sniper didn’t reply to that, still mostly just trying to catch his breath and figure out what to say.

The silence stretched out for a long several minutes. Scout was the one to break it. “What the fuck do you want?” Scout finally asked.

“...Wanted to say I’m sorry,” he said carefully.

“Yeah?” Scout asked, voice cold.

“Yeah,” Sniper agreed.

“Good to know,” Scout said, still cold.

“Awright, look, I know what I did wrong—“ Sniper started in, but Scout cut him off.

“Do you? Are you sure? Do you know what you did wrong?” he asked, voice gone sharp. “Because it sure didn’t seem like you knew what you did wrong. Either didn’t know or didn’t care. One of the two.”

“I—I know, and I’m sorry—“

“I don’t think you’re sorry though is the thing, I think you’re sorry that I got mad at you, I think you’re sorry you got in trouble for sayin’ that—“

“I’m sorry that I said it and I wouldn’t have said it at all if I knew it would make you upset,” Sniper cut in, and Scout sat up, glared at him dead on.

“You didn’t think that maybe I would get upset? Didn’t think I’d even get mad at you?” he challenged.

“I just—all the rest of the time you’ve got a thick skin,” Sniper defended. “Anyone else says anything even beyond that mean to you and you brush it off. From everyone else you don’t mind it.”

“Well you’re not everyone else,” Scout snapped. “You’re different. That’s the fuckin’ point, is everyone else on the planet is always sayin’ that kinda shit to me, but you’ve got my back. But you’re always on my side. That—that you like me, at least.”

“Scout, of course I like you—“ Sniper tried.

“No, yeah, you like me, you just think I’m a fuckin’ idiot apparently, some dumbass,” Scout scoffed. “That I’m stupid and can’t—“

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Sniper cut in, “you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then what the fuck did you mean?”

“I just... I just meant that I thought you were wrong about that one particular thing, and I, I used too strong a word—“

“And called your boyfriend a fuckin’ idiot, yeah,” Scout said. Sniper tried to cut in again. “No, no, shut the fuck up. It’s my turn to talk, okay?”

Sniper shut up.

Scout took a breath, sighed hard, glaring out towards the horizon line. “Look, I—I had to grow up dealin’ with people thinking I’m stupid and annoying and worthless. Everyone. And I had to work real fuckin’ hard to convince myself that I’m worth anything. Real fuckin’ hard. And I still gotta work hard at it, even out here. And I’ve had a goddamn laundry list of people who rejected me and called me all that dumb shit too. But I’ve gotten some fuckin’ standards since then, alright? So I’m not gonna put up with that. You don’t get to talk to me like that.”

“Sometimes couples push each other’s buttons—“ Sniper tried to say.

“Do I ever make fun of you, Snipes?” Scout cut in, expression hard. “I ever call you stupid? Make fun of you for the shit that I know you’ve got damage about?”

Silence.

“Yeah, thought so.” Scout glared at him for a few more seconds before he laid back again, sighing hard. “Just get the fuck outta here, Snipes. I’m gonna be pissed for a while.”

“I really am sorry,” Sniper tried.

“And I’m not forgiving you yet. Beat it.”

Sniper managed to climb down without getting busted up too bad, and returned to his camper again feeling what was probably a suitable amount of extremely ashamed of himself.

It was twenty minutes later when he got a banging on his door, and when he opened it, Scout was standing there, still looking pretty annoyed.

“Okay so I’m still mad at you but I did leave my other sneakers in here,” he said before Sniper could overcome his surprise and say anything.

Sniper considered that for a few seconds before he stepped aside to let him in. Scout came in and picked up the sneakers in question from near the bed, and stood there for a second, glaring at nothing.

“And just because you apologized and you’re being nice, that doesn’t mean I gotta forgive you,” he said firmly, as if anticipating an argument.

“Right,” Sniper said, because that was true.

Scout chewed on the inside of his cheek. “And—and if I tell you to fuck off and not talk to me, then—then fuck off,” he said, also firmly, also already defensive.

“Awright,” Sniper agreed. “I’ll try.”

Scout glared harder. “And just because you’re agreeing with me that’s—that’s not gonna make me stop being mad. I’m still gonna be mad whether you’re cool about it or not,” he declared.

“Fair enough,” Sniper shrugged.

Scout glared at him for a good ten seconds in complete silence before he spoke again. “Fuckin’ quit it.”

“Quit what?” Sniper asked, confused.

“Just—just quit it!”

“Quit what?” Sniper repeated, more confused.

“The—this!” he said, gesturing at the entirety of Sniper. “Quit being you! I’m still mad at you! Quit it!”

“I—what?” Sniper asked, so entirely confused.

Scout slammed his shoes back to the ground, looking beyond annoyed. “You’re tryin’ to make me less mad at you by being—being all fuckin’ sweet and all understanding and shit, quit it! Stop!”

“I’m—I’m not trying to make you do anything! I just understand!” Sniper defended.

“Bullshit! Why aren’t you mad too?!”

“Because I was a complete arse?” Sniper proposed.

“Why aren’t you annoyed about me being mad at you?!”

“Because you’re right to be angry!” Sniper exclaimed, exasperated. “Because it’s true that I should treat you right! Because I shouldn’t have called you a bloody idiot!”

“Yeah!” Scout agreed angrily, and glared at him for a few seconds. “And—and I get to be mad at you for as long as I want now because that was really, really, really shitty of you!”

“I know! I agree!” Sniper said.

Scout stared at him for long minutes, fists clenched at his sides. Then he stormed forward the six steps between them, grabbed Sniper by the front of the shirt, and dragged him back across the room. Sniper, for his part, mostly focused on not tripping and falling, and then his thighs made contact with the edge of the cot and he was shoved, and then he was on his back and Scout was above him, straddling his waist. He didn’t protest in the slightest despite his shoulders being pressed against the wall in a way that was slightly uncomfortable, the position awkward.

“I’m still pissed at you,” Scout said firmly.

“Right,” Sniper said, and then Scout was yanking him up by the collar and kissing him, hard.

It was as much an extension of Scout being mad as a kiss, his bottom lip bitten half to shreds in a few short minutes. And when he gingerly tried to slide his hands up Scout’s thighs, his hands were grabbed hold of and pinned on either side of him on the bed within a second.

“Fuckin’ leave those there,” Scout grumbled, and Sniper nodded, and was kissed again for a second before Scout pulled back to muddle with his belt.

To be entirely frank, Sniper wasn’t sure what to think. Scout was angry with him, and Sniper knew that he was right to be. And now here he was starting to strip both of them in turn. And that wasn’t—he wasn’t opposed to that, not at all, quite the opposite actually, it was just mixed signals a little bit. He was a little confused.

And it was a rush of sensations and feelings, Scout really going to town biting and sucking marks into his neck and upper chest while he fumbled with some meager amount of prep, it having been a good couple of days and all, and then he gave Sniper exactly zero warning before he was sinking down and—

“Bugger,” Sniper managed to gasp, needing to fist his hands into the sheets to keep from grabbing Scout or falling back. And Scout’s thighs were tense on either side of his waist, and he rolled his hips once and twice to get comfortable, and then he set into a hard motion that made Sniper keep gasping.

It was one of the rougher fucks he’d had in their relationship, Scout’s rhythm downright unforgiving, the slap of skin to skin on collision stinging, rough enough and overwhelming enough that it practically felt like Sniper was the one being fucked. And throughout it Scout was a lot quieter than he tended to be, his only sounds being hard breathing and occasionally swearing under his breath. He was flushed down to his chest, and his eyebrows were all drawn together, and he was biting his lip hard enough that Sniper was a little worried he was going to hurt himself, and somehow all of that combined into making him downright gorgeous.

He slowed at one point, apparently struggling to catch his breath. Sniper’s hands left the bed to stroke up his thighs again encouragingly, and again Scout shoved them away, and then that fire was back and the rhythm resumed, leaving Sniper to choke on his breath.

Sniper finished first, but it was a close thing, Scout following just behind, his release warm as it dropped against his stomach where his shirt had been abandoned halfway through being unbuttoned and had ended up just shoved halfway up in the front.

And for a few seconds it was just he and Scout’s panting, trying to get their breath back. And he felt a distinct tremble to Scout’s thighs, a weakness that he knew tended to happen, and for a few seconds Scout struggled to try and leverage himself up a bit. When he spoke, it was muffled against Sniper’s neck and shoulder.

“Help,” he said quietly, and Sniper did in an instant, hooking an arm around his waist and helping to lift him up and free, letting him settle comfortably further down Sniper’s thighs. Then his hands were pushed at again, and he returned them to his sides obligingly. “You’re still an asshole.”

“I know,” Sniper said.

“And—and I’m not stupid,” Scout said next, clearly trying to muster up some amount of anger behind it, but he mostly just seemed drained, physically and emotionally. That realization was further punctuated when Scout took a shaky breath, sniffling once. “I’m not an idiot. I’m not.”

“I know,” Sniper said again.

Scout stayed like that for a while, hands resting coldly against his waist even as he kept his face buried in the crook of Sniper’s neck. It became more and more clear the longer he stayed there that he was trying to pull himself together, and wasn’t having an easy time of it. In fact, it didn’t seem to be working at all. He kept taking shaky breaths, kept sniffling, and Sniper processed that the dampness against his neck wasn’t just sweat anymore.

“Scout,” Sniper ventured, chest absolutely aching. “I know you’re still angry with me, and I know I’ve earned it, but please can I hug you?”

Silence for a few moments before Scout nodded, and then Sniper gathered him up in his arms, squeezing tight and comforting in exactly the way that always made Scout feel a little better. And Scout’s breath got all the more shaky for a few moments after that, and Sniper caught a hiccup or two, but then he settled, melting forward into the embrace, smoothed over and malleable.

“It hurt a lot when you said that, y’know,” Scout murmured against him, so softly, almost painfully vulnerable. “I wasn’t even all that mad about that part. It just really hurt.”

Sniper didn’t interrupt him, rubbing gentle circles into his back and waiting for him to find his words.

“I was mostly mad because usually when I feel like shit, I go to you about it, and then I couldn’t do that because you were the one who made me feel like garbage.” Scout nuzzled in closer, tighter. “And it made me figure out that I really really need you. For real. And now I couldn’t—“

Silence for a few seconds. A deep breath or two.

“Don’t do that again,” he settled on saying.

“I won’t. I promise,” Sniper agreed.

Silence.

“And I didn’t mean it,” Sniper continued. “Really I didn’t. I don’t know why I said it, I was just... running my bloody mouth like some prick. I shouldn’t have said something I don’t mean. And I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Scout said quietly. Silence again. “I’m not still mad. I’m just... fuckin’ tired now.”

“Sleep?” Sniper suggested, and Scout nodded, and Sniper set about getting them cleaned up and settled into bed.

And it was pretty obvious that while he wasn’t still mad, Scout was going to be bruised over the whole thing for quite a while, but now that he was allowed to, Sniper planned on doing everything he could to make up for it. However long that took.

Because he needed Scout too.

[almondmilkygay]

Reddie as Destiel, I think?

The whole thing was way too long to put on here, so here’s 3000 odd words. Enjoy!

"Now that," Stan sighed into his laptop, "Was simply uncalled for."

What he was referring to, of course - was the obnoxiously disruptive eating sounds of his best friend, Richie Tozier. With a mouthful of food, Richie attempted to respond.

"Whatever you say, Shtanny," He droned, whilst chewing an overloaded sandwich, "But this shit is gourmet!"

"That shit-" Stan muttered, banging his head upon the keyboard below him, "-Is disgusting. Now please stop so we can do our research."

"Whatever, whatever," Richie sneered, "We already know what we're dealing with - vampires are the simplest sons of bitches there are. Chop off their heads and get on with life."

"You know you'll go to hell for this one day.."

"Hell? I don't believe in that. Belief and religion goes out the window when you hunt this stuff for a living."

"It'll come back to bite you in the ass, Tozier. Just you watch.."

Richard Tozier could not have given two lesser shits about what the past was to bring to him. He had fought tooth and nail to be with his friend in this moment. Richie had literally been to hell and back, with no memory nor recolation (or what he told Stan) of what had occured down there. Something inside of him had changed however. Whether it was the constantly burning scar or the awareness that he was undead, something inside of Richie stirred at the very thought of diving back into hunting.

"Alright, alright," Richie sighed out finally, resting the remains of his sandwich upon the paper plate below his hands and brushing his hands together - letting any and all crumbs fall to the ground. His mind was racing, yet he continued the conversation regardless, "We'll go nail this bastard and his nest, then head back out onto the streets. My baby cannot sit in the snow any longer." His baby, of course - was his car. Stan breathed in deeply, shutting the laptop soundly and standing to his feer.

"Okay then," He said, "Let's go."

The killing of the vampire and its nest went by without any hastle. As children they had fought assorted monsters, from ghosts to ghouls, to syrens to vampires. They were used to this. In the car drive back, Richie and his trashmouth were strangely quiet. A factor which Stan picked up on immediately.

"Rich?" He asked carefully, not wanting to hurt the man beside his. Richie's knuckles were white around the steering wheel of his Impala, "What's on your mind?"

"How in the hell did I come back, Stan?" Richie snapped, over aggresively, "Like, I know we're not normal. Hell, we're nowhere near. But coming back from the dead? That is above and beyond anything within our reach." He spat, in a mere breath. Stan continued staring forward in silence, and kind of in awe.

"Look.." He began, "I couldn't explain it if I tried. And God knows, I've tried. But we've researched and researched and found absolutely nothing. So for now, just stay settled and get on with the job. We'll be okay for now. Worry when it gives reason."

Richie didn't reply to this, and instead - his hands tightened further as he sped at an obnoxiously fast limit, nothing more than the two were used to, of course.

Back at the motel, Richie couldn't have packed his belongings any quicker. All thrown into a duffel bag with no care in the world, and he stood with it over his shoulder as he waited impatiently for Stanley - who was folding each of his shirts at an alarmingly slow rate.

"Christ, Stan," Richie sighed out finally, taking a seat on his bed and laying back on it, "If there is a God up there, answer me why in the goddamned hell I am here right now?" He breathed out, hands clapsed against his chest.

A blindingly bright light filled the room, blinding both Richie and Stanley as they shielded their eyes. Richie tried to utter a word, something, anything - to let Stan know he was okay. But nothing came out, and instead, a large lump grew in his throat. The light faded eventually, and the two unshielded their eyes.

"What the fu-" Richie began, before being cut off by the click of a gun being loaded, "Stan?"

Stan had his gun pointered at a shadowy figure in the corner of the room. His hand shook slightly, and he tightened his warm grip around it. The figure stepped out of the dark of the room and into where the small ray of light shone in from the window.

"Who are you?" Stan spat, before changing the direction of his question, "What are you?"

"My name is Edius," The human like figure began, "And I am an angel."

Richie breathed in deeply, lying back on his bed. His heart was now beating at a million miles an hour.

"What're you doing here?"

"We were.." Edius began, unsurely, "Sent here."

"By the man upstairs?" Richie butted in. Edius snuck a furtive glare at him.

"Yes."

"We?" Stan asked this time. A figured walked out from behind Edius.

"Good evening gentlemen," A feminine voice echoed throughout the room as a redhead walked up from behind the angel and rested an arm on his shoulder, "I'll be your angel for this evening.."

"Great so now there's two of you?" Stan spat, unloading his gun and lowering it from the air.

"In the flesh," The second angel shrugged, "I'm Beverly." She outstretched a hand to Richie, which he reached to take before being slapped out of the way by an overprotective Stanley.

"Don't-" He said firmly, "Why're you here?" He asked, directing his attention back to the elephants in the room.

"It is like your friend said," Edius said, shifting a glance at Richie, "God sent us here to.." He thought for a moment, "Keep an eye on you."

"Wait-" Richie interrupted, pealing his shirt from his shoulder to reveal the raw hand scar that had been imprinted since he had risen from hell, "Did you-"

"Pull you from hell?" Beverly asked, taking a step closer to Richie and running a finger over his scar, "Edius and I did indeed."

"Well for that, Bev and Eds - I thank you,"

"Right," Stan agreed, tutting quietly at Richie's annoying use of nicknames, "But I assure you we're okay." He added, shifting slightly.

"Regardless, we were instructed to remain here with you until any danger might have surpassed," Edius said, in a robot-like voice, "Hence us staying. We obey."

Stan turned to Richie, who gave a slight shrug in reply. Finally, Stan turned back to the angels in their room.

"Fine," He said, firmly, "You can stay."

"No need." Edius answered quickly, and in the blink of an eye - him and Beverly vanished into thin air.

"Freakin' angels, man!" Richie laughed aloud, "Shit's crazy." He sighed out.

Stan grinned lightly, and zipped up his suitcase.

"Guess you could say that," He chuckled, "Could take a liking to them, though."

"No doubt," Richie replied, "Beverly seems cool. Edius seems like he has a whole tree up his ass but we can sort him out, no problemo."

"I'm sure you'll warm up to 'em." Stan replied. Richie sneered slightly.

"Sure.." He answered doubtfully, "This shit's crazy though."

"How?"

"I began not believing in any of it, not heaven nor hell. Then I was pulled from the pits of hell themselves, by a couple of angels?" Richie half laughed, "Not how I expected our year to go."

"Come on, Tozier," Stan began teasing, "You know you'll soften up to them eventually."

This wasn't naturally the way relationships went for Richie Tozier. He was used to one night stands, casual flings or general heartbreak after the reveal of his true job. Nothing ever lasted for him, and he did tend to swing a certain, female orientated direction. Not that he hadn't thought about, the other gender. God knows he had, but he had never been gutsy enough to dapple in the area.

"You can't soften up to angels, Uris." Richie replied shortly, hoisting his bag up his shoulder and begrudgingly making his way out of the motel room. Stan was slightly suspicious of this behaviour, yet he followed his friend's footsteps regardless.

"Alright, Stanny," Richie said, starting up his car, over the loud rumbling of the engine, "Pick a tape."

"I've never liked your music taste, Rich," Stan laughed, inserting one regardless. The music began to fill the car, and Richie reversed out of the tight parking spot. Ah, back on the road again. A little while into the road trip, a surprise presented themselves to the two men.

"Hello," A voice came from the back of a car. Startled, Richie swerved on the road, his grip tightening on the steering wheel - and Stan let out a loud,

"Shit!" Stan yelped.

"Dude!" Richie hissed eventually, "You can't just teleport in here!"

"Sorry, sorry," Edius repeated, watching Richie and Stan's alarmed faces with a sense of satisfaction, "I have news."

"Oh and you couldn't have just sent a text," Richie asked, bewildered. He watched Edius' face contort into one of confusion, "On a cell phone."

"Ah, cell phones," Edius confirmed, nodding his head up and down. Richie exchanged a furtive look with Stan, his eyes wide behind his glasses. Stan cleared his throat, extinguishing the lump from it.

"Where's the uh- other one?" He asked finally, running his hands through his curly hair.

"Away," The angel shrugged.

"Okay, Eds," Richie reached his hand back, snapping his fingers in front of his face in a hopeless attempt to grab his attention, "Why are you here?" He asked, in an obnoxious voice, over pronouncing every syllable. In retaliation, Edius swiped his hand away.

"The name is not this 'Eds' you speak of," He recited, "We have found the profet."

"The shit is a profet?" Richie asked, directing his question backwards.

"They speak what God believes must be expressed," He answered simply, his cheeks warming as he caught Richie's eye in the rear-view mirror, "He controls your past, present and future."

"So, we're not in control?" Stan asked skeptically.

"You are, but under the word of-"

"The man upstairs!" Richie interrupted, clapping a hand against the steering wheel of the car. After a glare from Stan and silence filled the car, he uttered a quick, "Right, sorry. Angel."

"You will continue looking for jobs, and meanwhile Beverly and I will keep an eye on you and the profet. Next time in means of contact I will use this 'cell phone' you speak of,"

"Good, good," Richie sighed out, "Stan, contact Bill. He'll be sure to find us something in the Pennsylvania area, right?"

Stan nodded and pulled his own cell phone from his pocket. With a click, Richie removed the tape from the player and a silence filled the car.

"South, yep, yep," Stan repeated, twiddling his fingers, "Alright, demonic posession? We can handle that, thanks Bill."

"Demonic possesion huh?" Richie asked, "Eds will you be joi-" But he was gone, as quick as he had appeared in the car, "Freakin' angels" Richie sighed out, smiling widely.

"Hold on a minute there, Tozier," Stan said suspiciously, a smile breaking his face too, "Is that a smile you see? Is Richard Wentworth Tozier warming up the angels?"

"Don't push it, Stanley Uris."

"Alright, alright. Keep those eyes on the road, won't you."

Richie laughed and continued driving, following the directions that Stnaley described to him every few minutes. Regardless of the emmence concentration that Richie had devoted to his driving, something, someone - was on the back of his mind.

"Barton and Skover, FBI," Stan recited, standing on the front porch of the frail old lady's home. A forged FBI badge hung from his hand and the woman looked it up and down skeptically, "You said your husband vanished three days ago, ma'am?"

"I don't understand, I already said this to the police..?" The woman asked, turning to Richie now, who's eyes widened almost immediately.

"Due to the emmence dangers that this case may hold, we were contacted in advance," Richie answered smoothly, showing his forged badge too, "We want to do anything in our power to help you." He finished, tucking the badge soundly into his pocket.

"Thank you, detectives," The woman said, "Please come inside.."

"And Mrs Kersh, how was your husband behaving before he disappeared?" Stan asked. When he received a confused look in reply, Richie took it upon himself to elaborate.

"Did he say anything strange or behave in a specifically abnormal fashion?" Richie asked, pacing around the warm living room, looking the photo frames up and down. The woman hummed for a second.

"He was behaving normal.." She began, "Though, he was complaining about the heat - and you'd think he'd be used to it, working in a factory."

"You're settled in the heat, Mrs Kersh?" Richie asked, taking a seat on the couch opposite from her and inviting Stanley to take his turn in looking around the living room.

"Why, of course," The woman reassured him, "Though it does get quite humid in here." She added, clutching ahold of the fabric of her shirt and allowing air to flow in. A dark mark upon the woman caught Richie's eye, and he shook it off until further notice.

"Thank you for letting us look around," Stanley said, collecting his coat. Richie stood up next to him and he continued his sentence, "We'll be sure to stay in touch."

"Thank you, boys," She replied warmly, and they gave small waves in reply as they walked back down the driveway to the Impala.

"Notice anything weird?" Stan muttered as they approached the car.

"Yes, I'll tell you in the car. Have a feeling we're not having this conversation alone," Richie replied, his eyes stuck on Mrs Kersh - who's eyes had not left the boys and were now a piercing black. Stan raised his eyebrows and slid into the car.

"What was it?" He asked, shutting the door soundly and adjusting his seatbelt.

"She's got this black.. shit on her? I don't know, but something tells me Mr Kersh was not possesed by any sort of demon, and Mrs Kersh is our true problem here.." Richie shrugged, putting his car keys into the machine and starting up the engine.

"We should head back to the motel, do our research on this shifty little town," Stan said, and they headed back onto the road.

Eventually, the two made it back to their motel room, and Stan immediately opened up his laptop and buried his face into it, doing relentless research. Richie however, prepared himself a BLT.

"Alright.." Richie began, before taking a dangerously large bite of his sandwich, "What've you found?" He spat.

"This place.. Derry? People have been going missing for centuries, no explanation but it seems to be occuring every twenty seven years? Mainly children but the occasional adult.." Stan read, his eyes scowering the screen.

"Any explanations at all. Or strange sightings?" Richie asked, setting his sandwich down on a plate below him, a line of mayonaise coating his lower lip. Stan's eyes fixated on it before answering.

"Oh, no. None at all," He answered finally, before being interrupted by a new voice.

"Hello boys," Beverly appeared next to Stan, and she rested an arm on his shoulder, "What're you guys working on?"

"We don't know yet," Stan replied, watching as he watched Estiel appear next to Richie, and continued to watch with a wide grin as Estiel tried to draw Richie's attention to the mayonaise upon his chin.

"You've got a little something-" He began explaining, pointing at the stubbly chin that was Richie Tozier's, "Just, there?"

"Here, there?" Richie asked, pulling his sleeve over his hand and wiping wildly, "Yeah got it, thanks."

Estiel nodded, before pulling up a chair from thin air.

"What do you think you're dealing with?"

"Monster maybe? Hybernation checks in, and if the source of food is humans then.." Stan thought out loud, closing his laptop and leaning back in his own chair. Richie devoured his sandwich, and Beverly watched on in slight awe.

"We'll keep reshearching," Richie said, his mouth full, and little spittles of bread flying through the air, "Jusht you watch."

Estiel goggled at the man, wiping his eyes and sharing a glance with Beverly.

"Okay," He said finally, "We are forced to obey what you please though," He added, before turning entirely to Richie, "Those were our instructions, and we will follow them."

"Thanshks," Richie said, before Edius and Beverly disappeared into thin air.

"Those poor angels.." Stan said finally. When Richie shot him a confused look he continued, "Having to obey an ass like you."

Richie laughed aloud, throwing a tomato in the direction of Stanley.

[hopeisour4letteredword]

break me down (and build me up)

Content warnings: STAB WOUNDS, BLOOD, non-descript vomiting

Summary: Flynn gets stabbed.

Read it here or check the notes for the link to AO3.

Meet up with me in the woods to the south of Aurnion, Flynn’s message said. There could be a new Giganto monster, he said. If there isn’t, we can send my rookies home and spar, just you and me. When do we ever get the chance to spar without an audience anymore?

Well, Yuri’s been wandering the damn woods for ages, and still no sign of Flynn or his rookies. It’s annoying, but more importantly, it’s unnerving. The Knights aren’t kitted out for stealth. Yuri should have heard them from a mile off by now. Even Repede, loping along at Yuri’s side, has only been able to give the air the occasional confused sniff.

“Why do I keep doing favors for this dumbass?” Yuri asks Repede. Repede yawns. “Ugh.”

He stomps through the next half-mile of foliage before Repede’s easy trot comes to an abrupt halt and Yuri almost trips over him. Repede sniffs the air wildly, ears swiveling upright as his hackles rise.

“What?” Yuri asks, warily, shifting his grip on the cord of his sheath. “What’s there, bud?”

Repede growls and darts off into the brush. Yuri groans and starts after him. He’s not awful at following a trail, but Repede doesn’t leave much to work with except the occasional pawprint and rustling leaves. He makes it about five minutes before he has to yell, “REPEDE!”

Distant rustling. Then, a hoarse and muffled yell—“YURI?”

“FLYNN?” Yuri starts running again. “Where are you?!”

Repede pops back out of the undergrowth. He whimpers at Yuri, circling his legs to herd him in the direction the yell came from.

“I’m here!”

“Where’s h—“ Yuri breaks through a line of trees, into a clearing. He makes three observations in quick succession.

The first: Flynn is on the ground.

The second: the rookie Knights are nowhere to be seen.

The third: there is a knife sticking out of Flynn’s midsection, and his lower body is drenched in his own blood.

“Oh, fuck,” Yuri hears himself say, as though from a distance. He loses track of his own body for a moment. One second he’s still at the edge of the trees, and the next he’s sinking to his knees next to Flynn, right down into the bloody earth. “Oh, shit, Flynn.”

“Hey there,” Flynn manages, with a weak, wobbly smile. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Fucking—“ Yuri lifts his hands, shakily, but he doesn’t know what to do with them. It’s not a Knight’s knife; it’s huge and ornate and ominous looking, like something from a noble’s estate that would be sold as cursed or haunted. Repede sticks his nose under Yuri’s arm, whimpering again, before he turns and sprints back into the woods. North, Yuri thinks. Going to go find help. Good boy. “What happened?”

“I suppose the rookies weren’t being truthful when they told me they’d seen a huge beast in the forest,” Flynn says. He takes a deep, wheezing breath, and his face contorts with pain. “Not really how I expected my first assassination attempt to go.”

“Don’t joke about this,” Yuri hisses, which is easily one of the most hypocritical things he’s ever said. He ends up with one hand knotted into the fabric of Flynn’s tunic next to the wound, watching Flynn’s face for an adverse reaction. It’s kind of a fool’s errand. He’s already in obvious, incredible pain. “What—what can I do?”

“...Yuri...”

“What can I do?” Yuri repeats, desperately. His heart pounds in his chest. Flynn’s blood is hot and slick under his hands, and oh, gods, there’s so much of it. There’s so much blood. Yuri isn’t a squeamish person, has never had the option to be, but this is—

“Just stay with me? Please.”

Oh, no. No. Why did he have to phrase it like that? Like—like he thinks he won’t—

“There has to be something else.”

“If we try to do anything with the knife, I’m going to lose a lot of blood.”

“You’re already losing a lot of blood.”

“Don’t cry,” Flynn says, softly, reaching up to touch Yuri’s cheek. His fingers are sticky with his own blood. “Yuri, don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying,” Yuri grits out, even though it’s objectively untrue. When did he start crying? He’s barely been here a minute. Surely he can’t be melting down already. He’ll come up with a plan any second now, if he can just calm the fuck down. “We need to have your eyes checked when we get you back in town.”

“Yuri...”

“We’re getting you back to town,” Yuri repeats. His eyes burn. Flynn’s hand falls away from his face again. “We are. I’m not—I’m not leaving you here. I won’t.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Flynn says, voice pitched low and soothing, and how the fuck is he the one comforting Yuri right now? Yuri knows exactly how much it hurts to have a knife stuck in you like that. “I know. But—“

“Shut up,” Yuri says, desperately. His heart pulses like a drum-beat, loud and oppressive and so hard it feels like it’s making his head ache. He casts around for any cloth he can use to apply pressure.  There’s Flynn’s stupid capelet, but the fabric was already slick before it was blood-soaked. Yuri doesn’t want to be fumbling to get a grip every few seconds. They aren’t getting anything else on Flynn’s upper body off any time soon—that’s out. Yuri’s clothes, then. He haphazardly strips off the upper layer of his tunic.

“It’s okay, Yuri.”

“Yes,” Yuri snaps, aggressively wadding the fabric up into a makeshift pad. “It will be.”

“Just take a deep—“

Where is Yuri’s sword? He dropped it on his way into the clearing in a panic. Fuck. Well, he’s not getting up to go find it now. Flynn’s will have to do. Might even be better, really. Doesn’t it have an affinity for light magic?

He wraps his free hand around the hilt of the knife. Flynn’s breath catches.

“Yuri, please, no.”

“There’s no time,” Yuri says, and it tastes bitter and sour and awful in his mouth. There is no time. Yuri does not have room to fuck this up. He doesn’t even want to know how long Flynn has already been laying here, injured and alone. “We can’t—there’s no way healers are going to get here in time.”

If there’s even anyone coming. If anyone even knows to come yet. Repede can only run so fast.

“I know,” Flynn says, so, so softly.

“So I have to,” Yuri says—no. He begs. Please, Flynn. Please let him do this. Let him at least try.

“It’s okay,” Flynn says, again, more coaxingly. “This is already—when I first collapsed, I didn’t even think I would get to see you again. But you’re here, and that’s more than—“

Yuri’s vision blurs with tears. “Shut up. You’re not dying here.”

“Yuri—“

“Don’t be so selfish,” Yuri says, but he’s up to both elbows in Flynn’s blood, and Flynn already looks so pale, and so tired. He gives so much of himself, always pushes forward, and here at the last gasp Yuri won’t let him stop. Flynn is not the one who is selfish here. Yuri knows that. Yuri has always known that. “You think you just get to leave me with all the work?”

Flynn dredges up a smile from somewhere, somehow. “I am sorry about that.”

“You should be,” Yuri says. If his voice shakes, that’s between him and Flynn. He can’t spare the energy to stop it. If he does this, even if he does everything right, miraculously, the shock alone... no. He needs a distraction. Think, Yuri, think. What could be startling enough for Flynn to forget Yuri’s pulling a goddamn knife out of him?

...Well. As long as he’s already being selfish.

“Flynn—“

“Yuri?”

“—Forgive me.”

He pushes forward and kisses Flynn full on the mouth.

Flynn gasps against his mouth—Yuri got the surprise part down, at least, that’s a start— and Yuri mumbles sorry right as he yanks the knife out. Flynn cries out, full-throated and anguished, as the blood rushes out alongside it. Yuri tosses the knife aside without looking, fumbling for Flynn’s sword with one hand and to apply pressure with the other. Flynn presses into him, frantic, keeping their mouths sealed together as Yuri gets a solid grip on the hilt of Flynn’s sword. He plunges the sword into the rocky earth next to Flynn’s hip with a snarl of—

“Guardian field!”

And golden light blossoms around them.

“Oh, fuck,” Flynn wheezes, one hand scrambling to press over Yuri’s where it holds pressure on the wound. “Oh—“

Please let that mean it’s doing something helpful, Yuri thinks, wildly. Please, if the universe never gives him any other victory, if Yuri dies tomorrow—please let this, at least—

The light starts to fade, and he draws the sword back out of the ground just enough to plunge it back in.

“Guardian field!”

Flynn whines, loud and sobbing against his lips. Yuri pushes into the pressure of his hand, trying not to look down at the splatter of scarlet between them. As the light dies down again, he stabs the sword back into the loam again—and again—and again, and again, and—

Flynn abruptly shudders and falls back, head limp on his neck. Yuri cranes forward, heart in his throat. “Flynn!”

“Ow,” Flynn mumbles. “Ow.“

Oh, gods. He’s not dead, at least. Yuri looks down, at long last, and has to stop himself from retching. It’s just—red, all red, staining their pants and their skin and the ground below, soaking all the way through the cloth Yuri is holding to the wound. Red and wet and sticky. He shifts his weight enough to slowly, unsteadily pull his hand back.

The wound is gone.

It’s just an angry pink scar, smeared with blood. Yuri feels himself start to shake, first in his hands and then in his core, until he tips forward and is forced to rest his forehead against Flynn’s chest.

“Say something,” he says, hoarsely. Flynn’s breath is short and shallow in his chest. “Anything. Please, just—“

“I’m here,” Flynn whispers. A hand comes up to thread through the hair at the back of Yuri’s neck, even shakier than his own. He’s probably getting blood in Yuri’s hair. “I’m—I’m here. It worked.”

Yuri’s vision blurs out again. The hot tears track down his face, mixing with the tacky blood Flynn left there earlier. He’s shaking so hard he starts to pull away, afraid he might hurt Flynn, who is already so, so vulnerable—but Flynn holds him there, against his body, where Flynn’s heart thumps under his ear with every beat.

“Fuck,” Yuri says. It sounds shredded coming out of his throat. “Fuck.”

Flynn laughs, a tiny, wheezing huff of breath. “Yeah.”

Yuri still has a death grip on the hilt of Flynn’s sword. Flynn’s fingers tangle with his, kitten-weak, and nudge them away. Yuri lets himself be removed, the hand falling to bury itself in the bloody hem of Flynn’s tunic.

“I’m sorry,” he says, hollowly. Gods, the noises Flynn made— “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I—“

Flynn laughs again, a little stronger this time, almost incredulously. “You’re sorry?”

“I—I know that’s not—worth anything, but I—“ Yuri tries to bite back a sob, but it just comes out strangled and odd. “I couldn’t—“

“Shh,” Flynn says. He pets at the back of Yuri’s neck. His second hand steadies Yuri by the shoulder. “Shh, shh. Hey. You—Yuri. Shh. Don’t cry. You saved my life, what are—what are you sorry for?”

“You—“ Yuri curls closer, hiding his face against one of the few corners of Flynn’s tunic that isn’t completely covered in blood. “You were in so much pain, and I—“

“Well, I can’t say I enjoyed it, sure,” Flynn says, agreeably, surprising Yuri in a hacked-out bark of laughter. “There we go. Come on. Shh. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“You’ve lost half your blood, you’re not okay at all.”

“But I will be. And you did that.”

Flynn will live.

“I’m sorry,” Yuri says again, and when Flynn makes a disapproving noise, he forces himself to finish, “For kissing you.”

Flynn stills. “You’re sorry for that?”

“I just—“ Yuri scrambles to unravel the mindset he’d had not five minutes ago, when Flynn’s blood had still been actively pouring out over his fingers. “Needed you to be—distracted. And I didn’t have much to work with, but I thought, it didn’t matter if you liked it, as long as—but it was still... I’m. I’m sorry.”

“You kissed me to distract me,” Flynn says, flatly.

“I know if it hadn’t worked it would have been kind of a shitty way to spend your last breaths,” Yuri mutters. The consequences of his actions are starting to close in on him, in a sickening rush. It’s worth it, though. Flynn is alive. That’s worth almost anything. Even if he’ll never speak to Yuri again.

“Shitty?” Flynn sighs. His fingers start to stroke through Yuri’s hair again. “I think we’re having different conversations.”

“We are?”

“If my choices were dying while kissing you or just dying... you think the first one sounds worse?”

“I—“ didn’t structure my brain for this version of the argument— “Yeah? I guess? Not any better, at least.”

“Okay,” Flynn says. He sounds exasperated. Yuri doesn’t know where he found the energy for exasperation. Yuri’s not even the one who got stabbed, and he barely has the energy for confusion. “For a minute there I thought you were saying you had knowingly weaponized the fact that I’m in love with you to distract me.”

Oh, that’s what energy feels like. A surge of adrenaline that almost makes him headbutt Flynn in the underside of the jaw when he jolts in place.  “You’re in WH—“

“But now I can see you’re just a dumbass who used kissing to distract me for totally unrelated reasons.”

“You’re in love with me?“ Yuri says, much more loudly and higher-pitched than he intended or expected. He wishes he hadn’t jerked out of Flynn’s grip to look him in the face, because now he has to watch Flynn lift his eyebrows judgementally and feel himself go completely flushed. “What is wrong with you?”

Flynn opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, there’s a distant shout in the woods. Yuri whips around, staring in the direction the sound came from. A beat later, it comes again, more clearly.

“Yuri!”

“Commandant!”

“Flynn! Yuri! Are you there? Hello?”

“Sir, please respond!”

“Took them long enough,” Flynn says. He goes limp in Yuri’s hold, again, letting Yuri and the ground take his weight. When Yuri glances back to check on him, he smiles, wryly, eyes closing. “We’ll talk more in Aurnion, I suppose.”

“Flynn—“

“YURI LOWELLL!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Flynn shudders with silent laughter as Yuri turns to yell, “WE’RE HERE! OVER HERE!”

“Yuri!”

It takes a bit more shouting for the search party to triangulate their location. When they finally stumble into Yuri’s view, Brave Vesperia bursts through the line of the trees first. Estelle sprints forward and drops down next to them with no hesitation, heedless of the blood that immediately gets all over her. Yuri tries to help her as much as he can but soon enough finds himself physically dragged away by Karol and Judy. Healers from the Knights come onto the scene next. Yuri can feel himself bristle. It takes five minutes of Karol coaxing him that Rita and Estelle are here, they won’t let anything happen to Flynn, it’s okay, before Yuri stops digging in his heels enough that he can be removed from the clearing.

It’s all a bit of a blur after that. Somehow they get back to Aurnion; somehow Yuri and Flynn cross the gates at the same time, despite the fact that Yuri could have sworn Karol and Judy have been trying to get him to come ahead of the pack with them for the last hour. Of course he’s been resisting, but he feels weak and wrung-out. His head aches and throbs, and his torso is one big knot of exhaustion and nausea. Surely he can’t be giving them that much trouble?

When he finally staggers into the guild’s Aurnion headquarters, Raven—who had stayed behind to keep an eye on the home base—is ready to greet them with a grin. It slides away after one look at Yuri. He grabs Yuri by the arm and hauls him down the hallway to the bathroom. Yuri is on his knees in front of the toilet in seconds.

“Sorry,” Yuri splutters, when he stops heaving his guts up for long enough to speak. In the corner of his vision, Raven shrugs. He’s perched on the edge of the bathtub, within arm’s reach.

“It happens.”

Yuri has an incredulous look with Raven’s name on it, but he’s too busy puking again to deliver it. In between bouts of retching, Raven pulls Yuri’s hair back for him in a sloppy ponytail at the base of his neck.

“Honestly, for as much of a lightweight as you are, what impresses me is that this is just now happening for the first time and it has nothing to do with alcohol.”

“Ha ha,” Yuri coughs.

“Spirits forbid your frail mortal body can only keep up with your bullshit for so long. Some of us have heart conditions, y’know.”

“Some of us have—“ Cough. “—Have young, healthy bodies with no excuse for this.”

“Yes,” Raven says, mildly. “No excuse at all. Overwork and sleep deprivation? Absolutely nothing. I’m Yuri Lowell, and I’m fucking invincible.”

Yuri laughs, a little hysterically, despite himself.

“What happened, anyway? You fucked off into the woods, and the next thing any of us knew your pup was back without you howling his little head off. The Knights were throwing some kinda fit about Flynn, too. A monster got him or something?”

“A monster?” Yuri repeats. The retching has stopped, at least for the moment, and he takes the chance to spit voluntarily. “No, he got—he got stabbed. Said it was the rookies he went out with. I found him after the fact.”

Raven whistles, low and impressed. He ruffles Yuri’s hair. “Ah, so throw emotional trauma in with the overwork and sleep deprivation.”

“...Flynn’s the one who got stabbed, not me.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you handled it just great, finding your bosom buddy wounded to the point that you look like that.”

Yuri glances down at himself. Ah. That’s right. He’s still covered in Flynn’s blood.

“I know we like to have fun around here,” Raven says. “But I gotta ask, for realsies. You okay, kid?”

Yes, Yuri thinks. I’m fine. Flynn’s the one who got hurt. I’m fine. Nothing happened to me. I have no right to feel like this. I’m—

“No.”

“Ah, shit,” Raven says. “I wasn’t really expecting you to be honest. You wanna talk about it?”

No, it’s Flynn’s business and Yuri should wait to discuss it with him in private, and—

“Flynn tried to get me to let him die in peace,” Yuri says, and has to swallow hard against the instinctive urge to vomit again when he thinks about it. Maybe some of the pressure will ease off if he just says it out loud, even if he doesn’t really want to talk about it. “So I—I kissed him to distract him while I pulled out the knife anyway, and now he’s alive and I have to deal with that.”

Raven stares down at him for a moment, both eyebrows raised. Yuri stares back, too exhausted to care about how pathetic the whole situation is. He feels sticky with sweat, his mouth tastes vile, and he can’t shake off the phantom gush of Flynn’s blood over his fingers.

“I think what you need,” Raven finally says, “Is some nice, warm soup, a hot bath, and for everyone to leave you alone until you can talk to our favorite Commandant again.”

All of the tension slumps out of Yuri, along with the last dregs of his energy. He has to stop himself from resting his face against the toilet.

“That sounds good,” he mumbles. Raven pats his nearest shoulder and reaches over to check the security of his ponytail situation. Yuri hasn’t had anyone but Flynn make sure his hair is pulled back while he pukes since he was a little kid. “I’ll make some—“

“You aren’t making anything,” Raven says. He rises from the edge of the bathtub and steps over Yuri’s wayward limbs. “Judy will get some chicken broth going.”

“N—no, I can—“

“All you’re going to do is start the hot water,” Raven says. “I’ll grab you a change of clothes. Come on, kid. Take it easy for a second.”

It would be easier to argue with that if Yuri’s clothes weren’t stiff with a crust of blood. He hunches his shoulders and nods in acceptance.

The shower is disgusting. Yuri takes a moment to wash his mouth first, and he always hates trying to scrub out the taste of vomit. After that, he stands under the hot spray of water and gets wet enough to scrub the blood away, starting at the crown of his head and working his way down. Blood is matted into his hair and stuck under his fingernails. The water pools at his feet with a pink tinge. Yuri tries not to think about cleaning the tile later. When the water running off his body stays clear, and he doesn’t feel so nauseatingly overwhelmed by the smell of copper, he grabs the shampoo and switches over to his usual bath protocol.

The soaps Karol buys for the guild bath are gentle and floral. The smell slowly overtakes the bathroom. Yuri relaxes, little by little, in the cover of the sweetly-scented steam. At some point, on the other side of the bath curtain, Yuri can hear Raven come in. He departs again after a brief rustle of fabric. When Yuri finally turns off the water and wraps himself in a towel, he exits to find the tank top and sweatpants he usually saves for cleaning day. His bloody day-to-day clothes are nowhere to be found.

He gets dressed and towels off his hair. The towel stays slung around his shoulders to catch the drips as he yanks a comb through it. By the time he’s done, his stomach is growling at the faint whiff of soup coming through the door, so he follows it back out to the kitchen.

“You’re the best,” Yuri tells Judy, when she wordlessly pours him a bowl of broth. She snorts.

“I’ve made much fancier soups and foods for us before, but plain broth gets me ‘the best’?”

“It does right now.”

Yuri takes a long pull of the broth. From a nearby table, Raven says, “Don’t make yourself sick again.”

“’S just soup,” Yuri says, after he swallows.

“You can make yourself sick drinking soup too fast, with the state you’re in.”

“Leave him alone,” Judy says, bless her. “Take some more with you and lie down, okay?”

“Where’s my clothes? I have to wash them first.”

Silence.

“Guys?”

“Sometimes,” Raven says, slowly, like he’s choosing his words carefully, “In guild work, we survive but our clothes do not.”

“Wh—they were still fine! They just needed—“

“No, they weren’t—“

“Just some soap and they’d be—“

“We had Karol take them to a random dumpster in town,” Judy says. “So you couldn’t dig them back out. You’re welcome.”

“I changed my mind about you being the best, asshole.”

“I know. Take your damn soup and go rest.”

He does, fuming silently. Curled up in bed, he drains the rest of the soup, then lays down to doze off the headache starting to set in. Someone will get him if there’s news about Flynn, he’s sure. He hopes.

What feels like hours later, he’s halfway asleep when there’s a gentle, familiar knock on his door. “Yuri?”

Yuri scrambles to sit upright. “Flynn?”

Flynn cracks the door open and sticks his head through. He looks awfully, alarmingly pale, but otherwise much more cheerful than he did earlier. “Hey. Can I—“

“Come in, yes, fuck—“ Yuri tries to kick the blankets away. Flynn is through the doorframe, door closed behind him, and halfway to Yuri’s bedside by the time Yuri swings his legs over the edge of the bed. “The healers let you leave the hospital?”

“I can take bedrest anywhere,” Flynn says. He, too, is dressed down in simple, soft clothes. “They already gave me blood transfusions.”

Yuri frowns up at him. Flynn offers him a hand, palm-up; when Yuri takes it, he can see the thin strip of bandage Flynn must be indicating, wrapped around his forearm. Flynn turns his arm after a moment so that his palm can slide against Yuri’s.

“Let me lie down with you?”

“If you want,” Yuri mumbles, beating down the hope that wells in his chest. Flynn has always been the type to reassure himself with physical contact. Flynn sits next to him on the edge of the bed for long enough to kick off the loose civvy boots he’s wearing, then nudges Yuri back into the middle of the mattress, where he can push him down into the nest of blankets. Yuri allows this, rolling onto his side to face Flynn.

“You smell nice,” Flynn murmurs, appreciatively. He curls around Yuri, arms locking behind his back. Yuri presses his face to Flynn’s throat and a hand over his heart, unable to stop himself with Flynn so close and so affectionate. His pulse is steady. Flynn makes no objections.

“Had to wash up,” Yuri says, not really paying attention to anything he’s saying. Flynn’s pulse keeps going strong under his hand and his cheek. “Prob’ly still smell like the soap.”

“Like fresh growing things,” Flynn says. He noses against Yuri’s hair. “How are you feeling?”

“How am I feeling? You got fucking stabbed.”

“I’m pretty sore,” Flynn admits, easily. “And very lightheaded. The healers said I have to be sure to eat a lot of sugars and proteins for the next few days, and get plenty of rest and fluids. So—here I am.”

“Here you are.” Yuri tries to use the hand on Flynn’s chest to push back a bit. Flynn clutches him in place. “Hey. Let me go grab you a snack.”

“I just had something to nibble. I don’t need anything right this moment.”

“But—“

“Raven said you were sick.”

“That snitch,” Yuri grumbles. Flynn’s grip tightens.

“It’s true, then?”

“I’m fine,” Yuri lies. He stops trying to squirm out of Flynn’s grasp. This bluff will probably work better if Flynn can’t see his pale, gaunt face. “Just a blood sugar crash.”

“Mm. That’s not what it sounded like.”

“...What did Raven tell you?”

“You got home looking like death warmed over, immediately vomited, and directly answered questions about your state of emotional well-being.”

Yuri winces. Nobody is better equipped than Flynn to know what a red flag that last one is.

“He also said I should be gentle with you because you’ve barely slept in two days.”

“He really is a snitch.”

“If it makes you feel any better, it was news to Karol.”

Yuri sighs. Flynn slides one hand up his back to start stroking his hair again, like he had in the forest. Yuri has to admit it’s a lot nicer when they’re not both drenched in blood. “And I hardly need Raven to tell me that something is wrong when you’re actually letting other people take care of you.”

“You should worry about yourself right now, not me.”

“I’m well-equipped to worry about both of us at once.”

“You almost died, Flynn,” Yuri says, and he feels sick again just saying it. “Don’t—“

“Can you shut up and let me care about what happens to the love of my life for five minutes?”

Yuri’s jaw snaps shut. He can feel his face flare red-hot. Flynn huffs out a little laugh, snuggling in close. The hand on Yuri’s lower back starts rubbing in slow circles.

“You have bad taste and you make no sense,” Yuri says, eventually.

“Leaving your unforgivably poor self-esteem aside for the moment, how do I not make sense?”

“How can I be the—“ Yuri grits his teeth and soldiers on. “—The ‘love of your life’ when we aren’t even dating?”

“I love you,” Flynn says, with a brisk, matter-of-fact sincerity that makes Yuri want to roll over and smother himself with a pillow. “And I have my whole life, and I always will. It hasn’t got anything to do with whether we’re in a romantic relationship.”

“You’re bonkers.”

“I’d be offended, but recent events suggest you don’t dislike bonkers.” Yuri stills. Flynn snorts. “Your first impulse to distract me was to kiss me, and it wasn’t because you knew I was in love with you? Come on. I’m not stupid.”

“...I panicked.”

“I know. Hell if it didn’t work, though.”

“It didn’t work,” Yuri says, around a lump in his throat. “For spirits’ sake, I was there. I heard you yell. It didn’t work.”

“You were pulling a knife out of me. Of course I yelled.”

“But—“

“But it was extremely motivating to know that if I lived, I might get to kiss you more.”

Yuri kicks him.

“Ow!”

“What kind of stupid reason to live is that?!”

“Well of course I wanted to live for other reasons, but they were a little abstract when I was already bleeding out on the ground miles from help!”

“Shut up!” Yuri kicks him again. Like the first one, it’s weak and half-hearted, but Flynn seems to get the intended message. “I can’t believe you. You know how to cast guardian field yourself!”

“Are you yelling at me for not pulling the knife out myself?!”

“I’m yelling at you for giving up so fast!” Yuri’s face still feels hot with mortification, but now it’s a flush of anger, too. How dare Flynn act like the affections of messy, criminal, fuck-up Yuri Lowell are a more compelling reward than continuing to live his own life? He knows Flynn was probably just trying lighthearted humor out on the situation, but fuck. “I’m yelling at you for making me ignore your stupid, bad wishes! You tried to tell me not to save you, you dipshit!”

“Yuri—“

“It wasn’t worth the fucking effort to try to live when it was just living for me, as your friend?” Yuri’s voice breaks. Shit. “It wasn’t worth the effort to try to live for Estelle, and the Flynn Brigade, and Brave Vesperia? Wasn’t worth it for Repede?”

“I didn’t think it was going to work!” In a flash, Yuri finds himself wrestled back from Flynn’s body, so that they’re face-to-face. Flynn’s eyes are wide and frantic. One hand cups Yuri’s face; Yuri is horrified to realize that his cheeks are wet with tears again. “I’m sorry! I thought there wasn’t a chance, and maybe it would be less frightening to just leave the knife there and let it happen!”

“It wasn’t less frightening for me,” Yuri says, thickly. He knows it’s still selfish as he says it. All of this is selfish. Who is he to tell Flynn how to feel about his near-death experience? “To just—just sit there and wait for you to die without even trying to stop it.”

Flynn’s expression softens a little. His other hand slides up to cup Yuri’s other cheek. “I know.”

“And I don’t—want to think that if I’d tried to distract you any other way, maybe now you wouldn’t be—“ Yuri squeezes his eyes closed. Gods. He needs to stop crying.

“Shh,” Flynn mumbles. His forehead touches Yuri’s. “Shh. It didn’t happen. Don’t think about the what-ifs.”

“I have to.”

“No, you don’t.”

“But if there’s a next time—“

“If there’s a next time, I’ll know I should never doubt my brave, stubborn Yuri’s ability to pull a miracle out of nowhere.”

“What if next time—“

“No. Shh.”

Flynn kisses his cheek, gentle and chaste. Yuri hears his own breath hiccup, and reaches up to cling to the front of Flynn’s shirt. Flynn pecks the next kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I’m sorry I asked you not to try,” Flynn whispers. “Shh. Don’t cry, Yuri. We’re going to be okay. It all worked out. Don’t cry, please.”

“I can’t stop,” Yuri says, miserably. “I’m trying.”

Flynn makes a soft, sympathetic sound. He gathers Yuri against himself and let him hide his face against Flynn’s neck again. They lay there for a long, quiet set of minutes, spoiled by Yuri’s wet sniffling and Flynn’s occasional soothing hushes. Flynn pets his back, his hair, his shoulders.  He only stops to tug gently on a lock of Yuri’s hair to get his attention.

“We should both get something to eat.”

“You go,” Yuri says. His voice is still thick with tears. “I’m—I’ll be fine.”

“No,” Flynn says, firmly. “You need to drink some water, at absolute minimum.”

“I’m not going out there like this,” Yuri snaps, even though he knows it’s a cowardly and pitiful reason to deprive himself. What if Karol sees him? What if Patty does? It won’t kill him to hide in here a bit longer. He already had that soup earlier, never mind how long ago that was. Flynn sighs.

“Sweetheart...”

Yuri’s face flushes hot again. “No. I’m vetoing that. You cannot.”

“I can, though,” Flynn says, “And if you don’t come with me, I will.”

“That’s underhanded of you, Commandant.”

“And what will you do about it?” Flynn tugs on that same lock of his hair again. “My love?"

“Good grief.” Yuri didn’t know his face could turn this red. “Please don’t.”

“Then please come get a snack.” Flynn’s fingers in his hair transition into a caress. Yuri shivers a little when they brush his neck. “You don’t have to talk to anyone. We’ll just go into the kitchen, get some food and fill your canteen, and come right back.”

“I will have to talk,” Yuri says, resignedly. With the state he came back in? The guild is going to want at least a word or two out of him, to promise he’s slowly stabilizing. He has no idea what dark magic Raven used to keep them at bay between Yuri’s last foray into the kitchen and now. He dislodges himself from Flynn’s embrace to roll onto his back, scrubbing his face with both hands. The bed shifts under him as Flynn props himself on one elbow. “Flynn?”

“Yes?”

Muffled into his hands, Yuri says, hopelessly, “You were just bullying me with the pet names, right? You’re not actually into that?”

A beat of silence.

“Oh, no.”

“I’m mostly into how embarrassed they made you,” Flynn admits.

“You’re mean.”

“I was just trying it out on a whim. It did feel pretty weird to say.”

“So no more?”

“Hmm.” Yuri peeks out from behind his hands. Flynn smirks down at him, chin propped on his hand. It’s a weirdly soft smirk. Yuri didn’t know smirks could look like that. “I don’t know. I do like how flustered you are right now.”

“Be nice to me,” Yuri grumbles. “It’s been a long day.”

“You’re right,” Flynn says. “I should wait a few days and see how you respond on an even keel. There’s no guarantee it will usually be this much fun.”

“Mean,” Yuri repeats.

“I’m drunk on power,” Flynn says. He bends down to kiss Yuri on the forehead. Yuri can’t help closing his eyes to savor it. “As always, it’s up to you to put me in my place.”

“Try some self-restraint.”

“I’ve been doing that for years, and it turns out you would have been receptive to kissing me for at least part of that time.”

Probably most of it, if not longer, Yuri thinks, but miraculously manages not to say out loud. The alarm bells in his head are blaring, warning him that he’s half a second away from Flynn asking about the time frame anyway. He pushes himself upright, fighting through a pulse of dizziness, to crawl over Flynn and off the bed.

“I’ll go get food. You stay here.”

“What? No, I—“

“You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I can walk to the kitchen, at least.”

“You could, but you don’t have to. Any special requests?”

“Get something for yourself,” Flynn says. “Food. Not just water.”

Yuri clucks his tongue in irritation. “Any special requests for the food you want for yourself?”

“Lady Estellise should be here. She insisted she would come up with a menu for me.”

Oh, no. Yuri definitely won’t escape this without a conversation and a half if Estelle is here. “Alright. Fine. I’ll be right back.”

“Yuri—“ Flynn catches his hand before Yuri can turn and leave the room. When Yuri pauses, Flynn brings the hand to his mouth and presses a tender kiss to his palm. Yuri can feel all the blood in his body rush to his face, coloring him scarlet. “I’ll be waiting.”

“Cool,” Yuri says, his voice cracking humiliatingly, and flees the room before Flynn can do anything else mushy. At least getting bullied with endearments bought him a little time to stop crying.

“He lives,” Judy says, when he appears in the kitchen. Estelle, standing at the counter, lights up.

“Yuri!”

“Hey.”

She launches herself toward him; Yuri braces himself, but she stops before impact, wrapping him in a gentle, barely-there hug.

“I’m okay, Estelle, really.”

“No, you aren’t. Raven said—“

“Stop ratting me out!”

“I just wish people would stop ratting me out for ratting you out,” Raven says. “Whatever happened to witness protection?”

“Eat! Eat, eat. We’ve got soup—I have some cheese and crackers here, I was going to put some together for Flynn, but there’s plenty for both of you—Rita put together some veggies and dip—“ Yuri looks around, but Rita is nowhere in sight. “Oh, she’s back with the Knights, Flynn asked her to make sure there was due process in his absence.”

“Of course he did.”

“Repede went with her. And Karol boiled some eggs before he went back out with the guild rookies.”

“I just need water for me and whatever you were going to give Flynn.”

Estelle opens her mouth to protest. Judy pats her on the shoulder. “I’ll do the soup, you make the snack platter. Just give him enough for two.”

“Please don’t,” Yuri says, mostly resigned to his fate. “Flynn will actually make me eat it. I don’t need—“

“Feed him,” Raven says.

“Yeah, no,” Judy says.

“Yuri, really, how are you feeling?”

Yuri sighs, through gritted teeth, and tries to summon up whatever part of himself managed to be straightforward with Raven. The team is nosy because they care. They just want him and Flynn to be okay.

“...I’ve been better. I just need a little more time to recover.”

Estelle relaxes a little, satisfied to get some measure of honesty. She nods as she putters around the kitchen. “And Flynn seems to be doing alright?”

“A little pale and shaky, but a lot better than I was afraid he would be at this point.”

“Good.” Estelle shuffles a few things onto a tray. Judy plunks down two bowls of her soup. “Here! And I will come by later to make sure you actually ate all of it. And you know Flynn will tell on you if you have him eat yours.”

“Flynn won’t eat mine in the first place,” Yuri says.

“Good! Now go rest some more. Chop chop!”

Yuri finds himself shooed back out of the kitchen, now laden down with the tray. He kicks at the door gently to knock, then opens it with his foot. “Room service is here.”

“Five-star service,” Flynn says. He sits up against the headboard and the pillows. “Maybe I should get grievously wounded more often.”

“Don’t you dare ever do that again,” Yuri says, which is absolutely useless to the point of being nonsense. He drops the tray onto his bedside table with a little more force than necessary. The soup sloshes dangerously. Flynn covers his mouth with one hand, trying to conceal his laughter with a cough. “I’m serious.”

Flynn clears his throat after an odd hiccuping sound. “I know you are. I also know from the look on your face that you know I can’t promise that.”

“You could lie to make me feel better,” Yuri says, sourly. Flynn catches him by the arm and drags him closer. “What are—what are you doing?”

“Cuddling my poor, nervous sweetheart,” Flynn says, and saves himself from Yuri’s opinion on that combination of concepts and endearments by trying to pull Yuri into his lap. Yuri scrambles to plant his limbs against the mattress, in safe spots that put no pressure on Flynn’s body.

“Stop that. You’re wounded.”

“I’m healed. The recovery is for blood loss at this point.”

“You could still lose more blood if we reopen—“

“We won’t. Come here, stop wriggling.”

“At least let me stay to the other side!”

“Alright, fine.” Flynn curves his hands over Yuri’s hips, whose final placement is astride one of Flynn’s thighs on the un-stabbed side of his body. “You can be such a worrywart.”

“You got stabbed!”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Flynn says, dryly.

“Oh, are we getting snippy now? Because I’m pretty sure if I got stabbed, you would—“ Flynn seems to legitimately ponder that hypothetical for a moment, because after a beat his grip on Yuri’s body tightens painfully. “—Ow, Flynn.”

“Sorry,” Flynn mumbles. He loosens his grip and smoothes his palms over Yuri’s flanks. Yuri has to stop himself from shivering with the novel contact. “No getting stabbed.”

Saccharine-sweet, Yuri says, “Well, you know I can’t promise that.”

Flynn laughs, tiredly. “You could lie to make me feel better.”

“So we understand each other.”

“Unfortunately.” Flynn pets at him some more, making Yuri fidget, before he says, quietly, “I’ll do my best. I can promise that much. I’ll always do my best to come back to you safe.”

“I’ll take it,” Yuri says, since it’s probably the best he’s going to get.

“Now you?”

“...Motivate me.”

“What?”

“You made that big deal about motivating factors earlier,” Yuri says, even as he finds himself flushing red again. Is he miscalculating this move? Too late to back out now. “Well, I don’t get it. Motivate me.”

Flynn stares at him for a second. Right when Yuri starts to seriously consider bailing, Flynn grabs him by the waist and rolls them both down into the sheets, Yuri on his back with Flynn braced over him.

“Hey!” Yuri yelps. “You aren’t supposed to be exerting—“

“Shut up,” Flynn says, and kisses him firmly on the mouth. Yuri scrambles to get a hold of—something, anything, and ends up with fists clenched in the front of Flynn’s shirt again. Against Yuri lips, Flynn adds, “You’re such a little shit sometimes.”

“That’s—mmph—“ Yuri shifts his grip to Flynn’s face as the force of Flynn’s kisses pushes him into the pillows. “N-not a very mmm—motivating thing to say.”

“I’ll give you some motivation,” Flynn mutters. He grabs Yuri by the chin and kisses him long and hard. When Yuri has to shove him back to gasp for breath, he says, “Let me court you.”

“Huh?” Yuri pants. Flynn rubs their noses together in a butterfly kiss, still holding him by the chin.

“I want to date. Is that motivating enough for you? Can you promise to try to come home to your boyfriend?”

“Yes,” Yuri says, weakly, robbed of breath for humorous retorts. “I can try.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise. I’ll always try to come home to you.”

“Come home safe?”

“That’s pushing it.”

“Okay, then how’s this? If you get stabbed I’m going to call you pet names in front of your guild for as long as it takes Lady Estellise to give you a clean bill of health.”

“No fair,” Yuri mutters. “I can’t pull the same shit on you. It would backfire.”

“I’d pay real gald to see you try,” Flynn says. He presses a light kiss to the tip of Yuri’s nose. Yuri scrunches his nose.

“I liked the other motivation better.”

“You can have both,” Flynn says, generously, and proceeds to demonstrate exactly that.

They do stop to eat the food. Eventually.