#hey you. the one reading the tags. go eat some pizza and take a shower it fucking changed my life

[i-am-a-fish]

earlier today I was kinda just hanging out but after eating some pizza and taking a shower?? holy shit you guys. I feel amazing. I'm so happy to be alive

[trash-writings]

Stay

Ryuuguji Ken x GN!Reader

Who would have thought my first Tokyo Revengers fic would be angst? Not me!

This is inspired by the song Stay by Sugarland. Anyways, don’t read this if you don’t like pain! Like I’m not joking, this is not for the weak and I say that with all my love.

THIS IS UNEDITED PLS ITS 2 AM BE NICE IM ALREADY CRYING THINKING OF THIS

Tagging: @spicysoftsweet, @twkhoosha, @anxiousbabybirdb and @rythlynn (bc b said you liked angst)

Warnings: angst, manga spoilers

Word count: 1330

No matter how hard you tried to not live in the shadow of a ghost, it was damn near impossible. You hated the way you felt. It was disgusting to feel so angry with him. She was so young, never even having a chance to get to know him the way you have. How can you be jealous of that? How can you possibly feel the lingering effects of a girl long gone?

You get all the good parts of him: the soft touches, the warm kisses, and the late nights laying on his chest while listening to his heartbeat.

She’d never get that, and yet here you are desperately clinging onto the shred of dignity you have while watching him get dressed. His back is littered with old scars and a few new ones that seem to have barely just healed. The bed dips when he sits on the end, rebraiding his hair.

“Ken,” your voice sounds outside of your body, no longer resembling yourself.

“Hmm?” He hums, his eyes peeking over.

“You could stay with me tonight, it’s late.” Stupid, you’re so stupid. There’s never been a time this has worked, and never will be.

“I can’t.” He kisses your forehead as he stands, grabbing his black and white cardigan. “I’ll text you later, yeah?”

“That’s fine,” the lie comes out as smooth as room temperature butter across warm toast. It’s not fine, and never will be. But, what else can you say? You lay down, enveloping yourself into the covers.

It shouldn’t hurt anymore, not after everything else. You can’t even admit to your friends you still see him as often as possible, too afraid of the way they’d look at you with their eyes full of pity. No matter how many ‘you deserve better’ and ‘just block him’ you hear from them, it’s in one ear out the other. The only thing you have left to keep company is your quiet apartment and the fading mental image you have of the pretty blonde girl who haunts you every waking moment.

--

He smells faintly like blood, the sweat masking any other scent he might be emanating. The bags under his eyes make you wonder if he’s slept since the last time you saw him, barely able to stand in your doorway, falling into your arms as he steps inside.

“What the fuck happened,” you ask, nearly crumbling under his weight.

“Nothing, I just... “ he sighs, and you manage to get him to your couch. He slumps on it, and you notice the trail of blood from his nose to his chin, only interrupted by his puffy lips. “Your place was closer.”

“Ken,” you kneel down in front of him and the couch, “please, talk to me.”

He shakes his head, smiling at you as you tilt his chin up. “Don’t want to worry you more than I already have. I’m sorry for showing up unannounced.”

“Don’t be, I’m happy you’re here.” You kiss his lips, and he winces. He doesn’t pull away, instead, he leans into you, again nearly toppling over. “Okay, let’s get you clean, and then you’re sleeping here. No more fucking arguing about it, okay?”

He chuckles, muttering something to himself. You faintly hear him say the word ‘her’.

You stop in your tracks, biting hard on your bottom lip. “What was that?” You manage to keep your voice from cracking.

“Nothing, just thank you -----,” he tells you.

You know it’s not nothing.

He compared you to Emma again.

You let yourself collapse against the sink in the bathroom, far from Draken’s view. You’ve never let him know how you feel about this, and you weren’t going to start now. You’ve let this go on far too long to mention how a girl whose death destroyed him makes you feel two inches tall when you’re with him. The mere mention of her name or whisper of memory can send you spiraling.

You’ll never be here, no matter how hard you try to be what he needs.

“Can you make it to the tub?” You ask, softly running your fingers across his shoulders. “I don’t think I can carry you.”

“Yeah, I got it.” He stands, wobbling slightly before taking a few steps.

You place your hand on his back, slipping under one arm to help him the best you can. Undressing him is easy, his clothes already barely hanging on by threads. Whatever happened tonight, you’re sure you didn’t want to know. Helping him into the tub is easy, he basically collapses mumbling a few sorries as the water splashes onto the floor and your legs.

Without speaking, you help him wash off. He lays back against the cool tile, not speaking a word. His eyes can’t stay open, fluttering shut then he jerks them open as he’s about to doze off. You wash his body, making sure to get every speck of dirt and bloodstain off his soft skin.

“Can you sit up so I can get your back?” Your voice is soft like you’d done this a million times.

Actually, you’ve never done this with anyone. Never even sharing a shower with someone. This is the most intimate thing you’ve experienced with him, despite the numerous times you’ve let him in your bed. As you wash the remainder of his body and his hair, you wonder if he’s thinking something similar. Does he think about you beyond the hookups?

“I forgot to grab a towel, give me a second.” You run off to your bedroom, reaching in your closet to find one, and then running back to give it to Draken.

“Thank you, so much.” He kisses your forehead before wrapping it around his waist, leaving you alone in the bathroom.

You sit on the edge of the tub, your head in your hands, forehead still burning with the lingering effects of his lips. Your grapple with the contradicting emotions and thoughts running through your mind. It doesn’t mean anything, he always kisses your forehead.

However, tonight might be different. It might mean something more.

You’d be stupid to think it means anything more.

You’d be naive to think he just randomly showed up at your place because it was closer. It was out of convenience, not necessity.

“Hey, do you have any food?” His voice brings you back to reality.

“Yeah,” you laugh, draining the tub and then drying your hands. “Just get in bed, I’ll bring you some pizza. I’m not heating it up though, just deal with it.” He laughs, the warm tone of it making your heart melt.

You look over as he speaks again, “that’s fine.”

When you hand him the plate, he smiles before digging in. He eats it ridiculously dast, and you worry he’ll choke and you’ll be left trying to remember the CPR you took in high school far too long ago. He doesn’t luckily. You take the plate and he lays back on your bed, and you join him soon after. He lets you lie your head on his chest, wrapping his arm around you.

“You’re welcome here anytime, you know that right?” You tell him after several minutes of silence.

His fingertips lazily draw circles on your skin. “I know.”

He sounds exhausted, his words barely a whisper. You’re not sure he’s even awake at this point.

“I love you, Ken,” you can’t stop yourself.

Stupid, so fucking stupid. Why would you say that? You know he won’t say it back, or even worse he could just-

“I love you too, Emma.”

-he could do that.

[debbiechanclub]

Know You Better Now (BTOOT sequel), Part 2

Probably not the best idea to drop this right after Extreme Rules, but I can’t wait because 😭 And that’s all I’m gonna say. Thank you for reading, and please enjoy!

Know You Better Now

Part: 2/?

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC x TBD 👀

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Language, ANGST

Find more of my fics here.

Tag squad: @galacticstat @hotyeehawman @hdbngsprnva @kingswitchblade @bec0m @betsy-bradock @heelchampbucks @linziland13 @librathepheonix13 @gabbynorth98 @exe-babymox-exe @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @brokenglassslippers @rocca09 @meteora-fc @kawaiikels @adriii-omega @thatgirlforever5 @sugar-melts-mo-fo

“Did you see the look on PAC’s face when he realized Alex broke up the pin? He was so-ho-ho piiiissed.”

Nick could barely finish speaking before he emitted a laugh that sounded more like an asthmatic wheeze, and everyone else joined in, the boisterous boom bouncing off the walls of The Elite locker room and making Alex’s ears ring. She’d never felt so out of place.

“He looked like an angry gremlin,” Karl piled on. He contorted his face and hands and made everyone guffaw and bark even louder. Alex rolled her eyes. Out of all of them, Karl annoyed her the most.

“Yeah, that was quick thinking, Alex,” Matt said. “I knew you wouldn’t let us down.”

He sent her a crooked, shit-eating grin. Had he not tacked on that last part, it might have been half a compliment. But he knew exactly what he was doing—and Alex did not have the patience for it.

“Us? Last time I checked, Kenny is the AEW Champion, not The Elite.”

The room went dead silent. Matt’s smirk vanished.

“Don’t act like you know anything about The Elite,” he bit. “You’ve been here all of two seconds. We were selling out the Tokyo Dome when you were still working bingo halls.”

“Whoa!” Kenny interjected. “Watch who the hell you’re talking to like that, Matt.”

The atmosphere went from shocked to tense; palpable. Matt’s jaw flexed, obviously embarrassed to have been put in his place in front of the boys. Alex smirked. He deserved it.

Kenny sighed into the quiet. “Alright, you know what? Everyone out.”

“What?” Gallows balked. “We gotta celebrate your big win, man—”

Don cut him off. “You heard what he said, everyone out!”

He herded them all toward the exit, and other than a few side-eyes and under-breath comments, they went without argument. It was the first time Alex had ever been thankful for Don to step in.

The door fell closed, and Alex and Kenny were left alone. His eyes were much softer than they’d been just a few seconds before.

“Are you alright?”

She nodded. “Yeah. It’ll take a lot more than that for Matt to get to me.”

“I know, but he shouldn’t have said it at all. It was out of line.”

“It’s Matt. What do you expect?” she returned. It made Kenny purse his lips in disappointment.

“He’s not out to get you, Alex. He’s just protective of his friends.”

Her eyes darkened. “Is there a reason he thinks he needs to protect you from me?”

He breathed out in frustration. “Come on, that’s not what I said.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I wish you two would get along.”

Alex stubbornly crossed her arms and looked across the room. This wasn’t the first time he’d said that to her. She knew it wouldn’t be the last.

“Hey.” Kenny gently gripped her shoulders, and she looked back up at him. “I want you to feel like you’re a part of the group, Alex. And I know right now you don’t,” he quickly added before she could interject. “But give it time. You’ve been at home working on getting healthy, and the boys just want to be sure that you’re a team player. Which… I’m pretty sure you proved you are tonight.”

She lightly sucked her teeth. “I did that for you, not—”

“I know,” softly interrupted. “But any of them would have done the same thing.”

Alex rocked back on her heels and turned her eyes down to her shoes. She understood where Kenny was coming from, one thousand percent. But she didn’t think she should have to prove herself to “the boys.” And truthfully… she didn’t want to be a part of The Elite, either.

But she also didn’t want to get into an argument with Kenny, so she just let it go. “Well, thank you for putting Matt in his place,” she said. She wrapped her arms around his waist and drew herself close to him. “I’ll do my best to get along with him so long as he’s not an ass to me.”

“That’s all I want,” Kenny returned, and he placed a kiss on her lips that was perhaps meant to be short and sweet, but neither of them pulled away. He brought his hands to either side of her face, and she pressed her fingers into his back as she lightly sucked on his bottom lip. He smirked against her mouth. “You want to get in the shower with me?”

She pecked his lips again. “No.”

He pulled back in surprise. “Why not?”

“Because. I look way too good right now to ruin it.”

He flashed a crooked grin. She already knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Fine. I’ll just ruin it when we get home.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex had honestly hoped Kenny would ruin it when they got home. But unfortunately, they didn’t go home alone; Matt, Nick, and Don went with them. At least the Good Brothers had decided they’d rather go drink at the hotel bar.

“So, have you officially moved in yet, Alex?”

Nick smirked at her from across the kitchen island, his mouth full of pizza. They’d ordered some “late night celebratory pies,” as Kenny had put it, but Alex didn’t have much of an appetite. She didn’t dignify Nick with a response either, instead just pursing her lips and taking a sip of the red wine she’d poured herself. As if he wouldn’t have already known if she’d officially moved in; he was one of Kenny’s best friends.

“Shit, I forget that she doesn’t ‘officially’ live here,” Kenny commented, making air quotes around the word. “It already feels like you do. Isn’t most of your stuff here?”

“Most of my clothes are,” she answered. “But I still have an entire house full of stuff in Virginia.”

“Wasn’t your cousin interested in potentially buying from you?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “I suppose. She asked me if I was thinking about selling, but we haven’t discussed it.”

“Well… maybe you should.”

He sent her a grin. She chewed the inside of her lip. “Maybe,” she returned, and took another sip of wine.

“Speaking of official,” Don segued. “Is Alex officially with us now?”

Alex stiffened. She didn’t at all appreciate that Don had spoken as if she wasn’t standing right there. But she couldn’t really answer him, either.

“Come on, why wouldn’t she be?” Kenny returned.

“Because tonight was the first time she’s been on AEW programming in what—nine months?” He fixed Alex with his beady eyes and finally addressed her directly. “People still think of you as part of Best Friends. And even though you broke up that pin in Kenny’s interest, the fact of the matter is that you technically helped Orange, too.”

“What?” Kenny let out a loud, disbelieving laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous, Don! She would have done the exact same thing if it had been Orange going for the pin instead of PAC.”

“Would she?” Matt challenged. He glanced at Alex. “Would you?”

Kenny’s eyes widened at him. “Really, Matt?” he charged—but Alex spoke up.

“No, if they’re so concerned about it, then I’ll tell them.” She leaned forward on the island and looked Matt dead in the eye. “Of course I would have done the exact same thing if it had been Orange going for the pin instead of PAC. And you know why? Because I was out there in Kenny’s corner tonight, and tonight was the first time in months that I’ve seen or even spoken to Orange or any of the others. So no, I’m not a part of Best Friends anymore.”

It hurt to finally say that out loud; but it wasn’t anything Alex hadn’t already known deep down. She’d known it as soon as Kris had popped out of that claw machine a month ago… maybe even sooner. And their behavior toward her that night—Trent’s behavior—had only proven it.

Kenny wrapped an arm around her waist and placed a kiss on the side of her head. Matt, meanwhile, said nothing. It seemed she’d finally shut him up—for now.

Don nodded. “That’s all I need to hear.”

Alex shifted. Somehow, she doubted that.

“Well, now that that’s out of the way,” Nick interjected. “Do you guys have any ice cream?”

“Jesus, Nick,” Matt breathed; but Kenny perked up.

“We do, actually. Alex has turned me onto Blue Bell.” He started for the freezer. “Do you want some, baby? We still have mint chocolate chip.”

Alex shook her head. “No. I’m actually gonna head upstairs; I’m exhausted.”

Part of her knew that, by going to bed, she was only inviting them to talk about her more. But she didn’t care. Matt could spew whatever bullshit he wanted; Kenny knew where she stood, and that was all that mattered.

He nodded. “Okay. I’m honestly not far behind you.”

She put her wine glass in the sink and gave him a kiss on the way out of the kitchen. Her legs were tired as she climbed the stairs to their bedroom. Our bedroom, she realized she thought of it as, not Kenny’s bedroom. She wasn’t sure when she’d made that switch, but she was hyper-aware of it now after Kenny’s comment just a few minutes before. But just the thought of selling her house stressed her out; she had enough on her plate as it was, and she didn’t want to give any of it any more of her energy for the rest of the night—

Beep-beep!

But she got a text just as she crossed into the bedroom. She sighed and pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans—and stopped when she saw the screen.

It was from Trent.

I’m sorry about what I said tonight. I just didn’t know how to react.

Alex’s brow lowered as she read the message. She knew Trent, and something in her gut told her that he hadn’t sent that on his own. No; Kris had probably beat him over the head until he’d relented. He would have been better off not sending anything at all.

She purposefully opened the text so that he would get the “read” notification, and then she locked her phone, tossed it onto the bed, and went into the bathroom to do her nighttime routine. If there was one thing she definitely would not give any more of her energy to, it was that.

* * * * * * * * * *

The Dynamite following Double Or Nothing wasn’t until Friday, so Alex had nearly an entire week to mentally prepare herself. She needed the extra time. Because, in the interest of “publicly clearing up any confusion” about where her loyalties lied, Don had booked her a sit-down interview with Excalibur.

She’d been furious when he’d told her. So had Kenny—he’d set it up behind both their backs. But of course, Don had talked him down and convinced him that it was “the right move.” Afterward, Kenny had profusely apologized to her; but she’d just told him to forget it. She’d do the damn interview. She wanted to speak her mind.

But now that she was sitting across from Excalibur in one of the backstage areas at Daily’s Place, she felt like she might vomit.

He spoke to the camera as he opened up the interview. “I’m sitting here with Alex Hawthorne, who made a surprise return after a nine-month absence at Double Or Nothing this past Sunday… and before we get into the interview, Alex, I just want to say welcome back. You were gone rehabbing a shoulder injury, and you’ve clearly come back in fighting shape. I think we all did a double-take when you walked out with Kenny Omega on Sunday.”

Alex felt herself relax a bit. It felt good to be acknowledged. She hadn’t felt that in a while. “Thank you, Excalibur, I appreciate that. It feels good to be back, and I have come back in fighting shape—not just physically, but mentally, as well. When I found out that my shoulder needed surgery, it was a bitter pill to swallow. And I’m not gonna lie; I struggled with it at first. But I distinctly remember waking up in that post-op room after surgery, and I realized right then and there that I could either let this injury drag me down, or I could use it as an opportunity to come back even better than before. And I promise you—and the entire AEW women’s division—that this isn’t the same Alex Hawthorne who competed in that ring nine months ago.”

Excalibur nodded. “Which begs the question: when can we expect you back in the ring?”

She breathed out. “Soon,” she nodded, her tone determined. “I still have some work to do, but it’ll be soon.”

“And we all look forward to it,” he said. “But you mentioned that you’re not the same Alex Hawthorne you were nine months ago. We’re used to seeing you at ringside in support of Best Friends… however, you returned in Kenny Omega’s corner for the AEW World Championship match at Double or Nothing, a match that also included Orange Cassidy. Is it safe to say that this new and improved Alex Hawthorne has moved on from Best Friends?”

Alex’s heart jumped into her throat. There it was, the million-dollar question, the reason for this entire interview, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d think Don had fed that line directly to Excalibur. But he didn’t like Don any more than she did—and she needed to give an answer. So, she did.

“It’s safe to say that, yeah.”

Her stomach churned and she looked down at her hands in her lap. It was out there now. She couldn’t take it back.

“Well, I have to ask,” Excalibur started, and she flicked her eyes back up at him. “You interfered in the match on Sunday and most likely prevented PAC from winning the AEW World Championship. But you also prevented Orange from taking the pin. Is there no part of you that did that for him?”

Alex’s brow lowered. First Don, and now this? Why was everyone so confused about her motive? “No. I did that for Ken—”

“Who cares who ya did it for!”

She was abruptly cut off by an angry, distinctly accented voice, and then PAC unexpectedly stalked into the interview area. He fixed Alex with a wild-eyed glare. “It’s like Excalibur said… you cost me the AEW World Championship.”

Alex leaned away from him in her chair as he moved closer. The entire sight of him was jarring, that ubiquitous scowl of his contorting his face, his dark, wet hair dripping water down his bare chest. She looked him over in confusion. Why was he already in his gear, ready to go? He and Penta had a match that night against the Young Bucks, but the show didn’t start for another two hours.

Excalibur tried to intervene. “PAC, we’re doing an interview here—”

But PAC just talked over him. “I know you’ve been gone a long time, Alex. And I have to admit, you do look good. So, here’s a bit of advice: instead of interfering in his matches, why don’t ya stick to being Kenny Omega’s arm candy.”

Alex’s eyes darkened. Suddenly, all her surprise turned to anger. “Arm candy?”

“You heard me,” he spat.

“Do you even own regular clothes? Or do you just live in your gear dripping wet like you emerged from the Atlantic Ocean?”

“Hey, PAC!”

Another person interrupted then, and Alex and PAC both looked over to find the Young Bucks, Brandon Cutler, and the Good Brothers stalking toward them. But it wasn’t just them. They had Rey Fenix—and it looked like he’d already been jumped.

Matt smirked. “Did you lose something?”

PAC growled in his throat. He charged toward them—but they dumped Fenix to the floor and retreated, laughing as they did. Nick held up his hands. “We’re saving our energy for the match tonight!”

PAC let them go, choosing instead to help his friend. Meanwhile, Alex jumped up and ran after them—the interview was over.

“Hey!” They all turned to look back at her, but her focus was zeroed in on Matt. This was his doing, she knew it. “What the fuck did you do that for?”

He scoffed. “To send a message, obviously. Come on, Alex… I thought you were with us now?”

He flashed another crooked smirk, and then they all started off again, patting each other on the back and hyping the Bucks up for the match that night. And Alex just stood and watched them go, all the while realizing that she was with them now—and she’d all but said it for the entire world to hear.

* * * * * * * * * *

“You ready to head home?”

Alex looked up at Kenny, re-emerging from her thoughts. She nodded. “Please.”

He gave her a sympathetic smile and held out his hand, and she took it and let him pull her up and lead her out of the locker room. It was the end of the night, and she’d been ready to head home before a single match had even been contested.

To her great surprise, Dynamite had started off by airing the footage of her interview. Alex had barely been able to watch, knowing what was coming, what she’d said. But when it was all said and done, it didn’t even feel like it was about her anymore. The interview had led right into the tag match between the Young Bucks and PAC and Penta—the story became the Super Elite’s attack on Fenix, not her return. And Alex wasn’t sure if she was more relieved that they’d distracted from the fact that she’d basically disowned Best Friends, or more angered that they’d taken away from everything else she’d said.

“I am ready to just relax and spend the weekend alone with you,” Kenny said as they walked down the hall. He grinned at her. “I told everyone to lose my number.”

Alex returned his smile, and Kenny lifted the back of her hand to his lips; but she barely noticed as he kissed her. She was too distracted by the group of people who had appeared in the corridor.

Best Friends. All of them. And it didn’t take long for Trent to say something.

“Where’re you going, Alex? Kris has a Dark match. Oh, wait—that’s right. You’ve moved on from us.”

“Dude,” Kris chastised and lightly smacked his shoulder. “Don’t.”

Kenny scoffed. “I’d listen to your alien friend, Trent.”

“No one was talking to you,” Orange returned.

Kenny narrowed his eyes at him. Alex squeezed his hand in protest; the last thing she needed was for him to go on one of his power trips. Thankfully, he let it go.

“I’ve already taken care of you, so I won’t embarrass you in front of your friends,” he dismissed. “Come on,” he said, and he started to pull Alex past them; but Trent just couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“Was that you giving that interview? Or were Kenny and Don pulling the strings on your mouth?”

“Fuck, Greg,” Chuck breathed—but Alex spoke over him.

“Was that you who sent that text Sunday night, or did one of them make you send it?”

She glared a hole through Trent, unwavering and angry, waiting for him to say something for himself. Anything. But he just bit down on his jaw, silent. Alex scoffed. It was just as she’d suspected.

“What text?” Kenny asked in confusion. Alex didn’t take her eyes off Trent as she answered.

“Trent sent me a text after Double Or Nothing apologizing for being a dick to me before your match. He said he ‘just didn’t know how to react’ to seeing me.”

“I didn’t know how to react,” Trent fired back.

“Oh, so it was just the apology that was bullshit, then.”

He breathed out and looked stubbornly away, nothing to say again. And as she continued to stare at him, Alex realized that she wasn’t surprised or even hurt by his reaction. Instead, she was vindicated in everything she’d been feeling.

Her gaze sharpened. “But since you asked so nicely; yeah, that was me giving that interview, one hundred percent. And you have no room to be angry about it, Trent, because whether you want to admit it or not, you all moved on from me months ago.”

Chuck’s brow furrowed in confusion. In hurt. “What? Alex—”

“Save it,” Kenny cut him off. “Good luck in your match, Kris,” he added, and then he tugged on Alex’s hand, and she turned and went with him, ignoring the way her sinuses burned.

[harryhandstan]

This is my contribution to @meetmeinfleetwood​‘s “to lovers” fic challenge! I chose the trope roommates to lovers and the prompt “I think I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do.” This was fun to write thank you for allowing me to participate!

Thank you to my beta readers @tbslenthusiast​, @witch-harry​, and @sunflowers-styles​! Y’all are the best!!

no warnings that I can think of other than alcohol tw // bc of the wine they share!

word count: 2.3k

writing tag | masterlist

It’s 5:45 p.m. when you finally leave work for the day. You should’ve just said to hell with it and went home at 5:30 like you were supposed to, but you were nice enough not to. Too nice you’d been told in the past, but it’s a flaw you’re willing to accept if it gets you a promotion to the position you ultimately dreamed of working when you started there 3 years ago.

After a quick stop to grab a bottle of wine (or two), your car can’t get you home fast enough. It’s Friday and you’re looking forward to spending time doing absolutely nothing for the next two days but curling up in a blanket and watching Christmas movies in the apartment you will essentially be alone in. Your roommate Harry shared the space with you, but kept to himself for the most part. Aside from dinners and movie nights on rare occasions when your schedule lined up, allowing you to spend the evening together.

As if your thoughts summoned him, your phone dinged, indicating a new message. Your eyes dart down to where it sits in the passenger seat, careful to keep your eyes on the car in front of you, waiting patiently for the light to turn red so you can grab your phone to respond.

It’s one simple word, “Home?” so you know he’s either still working or on his own drive home. 

Your reply is just as direct, “Not yet. On my way! Movie night?” 

The light’s green again so you tuck your phone back into your purse, ignoring the next ding until you arrive home. You’re through the door of your apartment and down the hall before you read his message, “Sure. Chinese or pizza?” 

“Chinese! I’ll pick the movie and you pay for dinner?”

“That doesn’t sound fair :(”

“Alright fine, you get home before I’m out of the shower and in my pajamas you can pick the movie..deal?”

“Deal!”

The race is on then, both of you competitive and determined to win. You have a movie in mind that you’ve been dying to watch all day and you don’t want to have to rock-paper-scissors to break the tie like you usually do when the two of you don’t agree on who wins  these little games. 

You’d already shed most of your layers of clothing easily as you moved through the apartment; your boots kicked off by the door, jacket gone and thrown over the back of one of the kitchen chairs, cardigan pulled from your body and tossed on the bed by the time you made it to your bedroom. It doesn’t take long to strip the rest away and to gather a set of pajamas from your well organized drawer before darting across the hall to the shared bathroom.

You know you have at minimum 45 minutes to be done, an hour if he goes to the better Chinese place a little further across town, which he most likely would. You’d been dreaming of ending your week with a bubble bath, but you don’t take the chance now, just hop under the hot spray of the shower, hoping it will have the same relaxing effect. Your eyes are closed as you tilt your head back to wet your hair while one hand fumbles over the bottles to find your shampoo. 

Eyes still closed, you tip the bottle to add a bit to your hand, but you freeze when you open your eyes temporarily to close the bottle and put it back on the shelf. It’s Harry’s shampoo you’ve grabbed instead and for a moment you don’t know what to do. You don’t know how many times you’ve teased him about how expensive his products are. But he would never let you hear the end of it if he came home and you smelled like him. Ultimately you would’ve felt too guilty to waste it, so you work it through and hope he never finds out. Pray that the act washes away just like the suds do when you rinse them from your hair. 

By your hopeful calculations, you still have about 10 minutes left before he arrives by the time you're done in the shower. You decide to give him a fair advantage, venturing into the kitchen to decide which bottle of wine would pair best with dinner. When you make your selection, you pour yourself a glass, settling into a comfy spot on the couch. The black remote taunts you from the small wooden coffee, and you grab it. No harm in getting the movie ready while you wait, right?

You’re 2 glasses deep and 20 minutes into the movie when he arrives, a smirk on his face at the sight of you. Your eyes go wide when you see him. You’re not sure why, there had been many nights he’d found you in the same position, but tonight feels different. You gulp down the sip of wine, too tipsy and unaware that you’re staring. Had his dimples always been that prominent when he smiled? Even without your glasses you could spot that grin that stretched a mile wide across his face.

“Haroldddd..you’re home!”

He hated that nickname, had always despised when other people called him that, but falling from your lips it sounds like a prayer and he would gladly change his name to that if he thought it would make you the least bit happy.

“S’pose I lost, huh? Got the food pretty quickly but stopped to get this,” He holds up a bottle of wine, ironically the very same kind that you’re drinking now, “Shoulda known y’would already have some!”

“Oh good, you got some for yourself..this one’s almost empty..”

“M’not that late, am I?” He chuckles as he makes his way to the counter, looking between you and the bottle.

“Hey..it’s a small bottle! This is only my third glass and I’ve barely even touched it.”

“Rough day?” He’s pulling plates down now and retrieving a glass for himself from the cabinet.

“Rough week. Rough few weeks, really.” You take a few more sips as you watch him prepare a plate of food. You figure he’s just making his own, and you wait patiently for him to finish so you won’t be in the way. But when he makes his way around the counter, he’s holding two plates in his hand and wow you want to jump from your spot and kiss him. You restrain yourself, as hard as it may be, and try to focus on the question he’s asking you.

He holds the plates towards the table and then towards where you sit on the couch, silently wanting to know where you’d prefer to enjoy your meal. You pat the spot next to you, inviting him to move closer, knowing how much effort it would take to lift yourself from your warm, comfy spot to go eat at the table.

“Emily still on vacation?” 

“Yes! And she expects us to do double the work while she’s gone! It’s her 3rd vacation this year. I know she’s the boss but..”

“Doesn’t mean she has to be a bitch to you.” He finishes your sentence for you, brow furrowed, upset at even the idea of someone mistreating you in the slightest. 

“Right! Thank you!” 

You hold your hand out to accept the plate he’s made for you, “Got our usual, hope that’s alright.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I was just joking earlier about you paying for all of it. I’ll pay you back for my half.”

He’s already shaking his head no, stuffing a bite of food in his mouth, “It was my turn anyway, r‘member? You paid for those tacos we had last week.”

“Right, I did. Forgot about that.”

You watch him devour a few more bites, your eyes darting from your plate to his, “Yours looks better.”

“Huh?”

Maybe it’s the wine making you more bold, you’d normally never complain, “Your plate it just..looks better than mine. Switch with me.”

“It’s literally the same thing..and I’ve already eaten half the noodles off mine.” He looks mildly annoyed at even the suggestion.

“Don’t care..it looks better. Switch.” You realized just how bratty you sound, so you add a quick, “Please?”

He huffs dramatically, switching the plates and giving you a sarcastic smile, “Happy?”

You return his smile, blissfully unaware of his annoyance in your tipsy state, “Very, thank you.”

You both turn your attention to the tv you realize now you had forgotten to pause, so the movie had progressed further, about 30 minutes in now.

His irritation has already faded when he asks, “What are y’making me watch?”

You start to explain the plot but stop mid-bite of your food, “Wait..have you never seen this movie?”

He shrugs, “Doesn’t look familiar.”

“Oh we’re definitely starting it over then!” 

“No, ya don’t hafta..”

It’s too late, you’ve already discarded your now mostly empty plate of food, nearly knocking your glass of wine over in your excitement of making him watch one of your favorite movies.

Almost an hour in, you don’t notice that Harry’s eyes have drifted to you. In fact, they’d mostly stayed on you since you’d restarted the movie. Your facial expressions were better to him than any movie; the way your eyes softened at the more heartwarming parts, or when your mouth formed a soft ‘o’ and gasped at parts he was certain you had probably seen at least a dozen times before.

You clasp your hand over your heart dramatically and he doesn’t even flinch, just listens intently when you say, “I love this part..this is the moment.”

His eyes temporarily flash back to the tv then, “The moment?”

“Yeah, you know, the moment. Where the guy looks at the girl and realizes he’s in love.” You sigh deeply, “I always wanted someone to look at me like that.”

Oh, you mean like what’s happening now between us? God he hopes for just a glance from you, a chance to show you that you’re living your own moment now if you’d just look at him. 

It’s tumbling out of his mouth quicker than he can stop it, his mouth working faster than his brain, but it’s a low enough whisper he thinks maybe you won’t hear.

“I think I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do.”

You do hear him, though you don’t believe it at first. Your hand is still resting over your heart, searching his face for any sign of teasing or dishonesty.

“H..did you just..?”

He’s looking down at his hands, fingers fiddling with one of the rings adorning his fingers, nodding before replying, “I did.” 

“How long?”

“Um..since the first week we’ve lived together? That first night we made dinner together and it was a disaster. Thought you were gonna catch the place on fire.” A giggle escapes him at the memory of you, rushing around the kitchen that night, face flushed red and hair a mess.

“That’s my moment? Almost burning our apartment down?”

“That and now, yeah. Just been strugglin’ with the best way to tell you. S’pose the wine’s making me a lil’ more fearless,'' He takes a deep breath, still not able to look at you in case he finds even a hint of rejection on your face, “But I understand if you don’t feel the same..”

“I do.”

His head snaps to look at you then, eyes widening for a second before he composes himself, “Really?”

You can’t stop the smile that blooms across your face at the sight of the thrill in his eyes. There’s a new buzz of elation in the air, but neither of you make a move at first. A pleasant tension fills the space between the two of you.

You break the silence, “So..what do we do now?”

“S’all up to you how fast and how far we take this. M’all in though, ready when you are, love. A cuddle might be nice while we finish the movie, if you’re up f’that.”

“I think I could handle that. I want something else first though.”

He’s trying to read your mind, thinks he knows exactly what it is, but he wants to hear you say it. Wants to hear the words he’s been waiting to hear for what feels like a lifetime now.

“Kiss me, Harry.”

You’ve already turned your body towards him; the movie, the food and the wine all long forgotten. He clears the space between the two of you easily, a hand on the side of your neck to add just enough pressure to pull you towards him.

Your lips crash against his, noses bumping at first but it doesn’t stop you, it only makes you crave him deeper and closer. You press your knees into his thighs, pushing yourself up so that you hover over him, your hair falling around his face. It’s still slightly damp from the shower, and his hand comes to rest on the back of your head now. 

There’s a smug look on his face when he pulls away, a hand still placed on your hip to hold you steady. He’s still breathless when he asks, “Did you use my shampoo?”

When you wake up in his bed the next morning, you question if last night was a mistake. You don’t regret it, not for a second, just wonder if maybe things will be different in the morning light. 

So when you barely touch the plate of eggs and toast he’s made for you for breakfast, he worries you’re having second thoughts about him, that he’s ruined any friendship you’ve already built by rushing into a relationship. 

So when you say, “Did you really mean what you said last night..about loving me?” He visibly relaxes, dropping his shoulders and beaming at you from across his own breakfast plate.

“Oh, darlin’,” He plucks a piece of uneaten toast from your plate, winking at you as he does, “You don’t know the half of it.” 

[ruki-mukami-dl]

Hey Admin. Can you do a scenario with Ruki and his bookworm s/o.

How is he when they go to a library to read or to a bookstore and his s/o shows him all the books and tell him about them. When they arrive home and read toghether. And so on.

(I really love reading and Ruki so much💞💞so If you could do this I'll be very happy. Thanks💞💞💞💞)

ー The scene starts in the bookstore

[*lost in thought, he reads the first lines of the new bestseller novel*]

R: Good grief. So cliched. And this book is a bestseller? Ridiculous.

[*he is torn from his thoughts when he is suddenly grabbed by the arm and dragged along*]

S/o: Ruuuuki. Come on. You have to see that.

R: Oi, calm down. I'm coming.

[*he notices how she starts to shine when she presents him the complete crime series collection that she likes so much; because of her happy sight, he slowly begins to smile*]

S/o: Do you see? The complete collection!

R: Do you want the collection?

[*she looks at the price tag*]

S/o: Phew... It's pretty expensive.

R: No matter. Do you want it?

[*she smiles at him*]

S/o: No. I wish it for my birthday. Today I'm just buying one book.

[*he smiles proudly at her*]

R: You’re such a modest livestock.

[*she raises her eyebrow*]

S/o: Livestockーー...?

[*she mumbles*]

S/o: You know I don't like it when you call me that.

[*he notices her sad look because he called her livestock; he tries to ignore her expression*]

R: Hmph... Let's go home. You should eat something.

[*she accompanies him to the checkout without comment; when he tries to pay for her book, she gives him an angry look*]

S/o: I'll pay myself.

[*during the drive, he stares lost in thought out the window; only when the limousine stops in front of the manor does he return from his thoughts*]

R: Liveーー... (name s/o), you gonna take a shower before dinner?

S/o: Yes, that was my plan.

R: Well, take your time.

ー In the manor

[*some time later she enters the kitchen; to her surprise, he isn't there*]

S/o: Ruki? Where are you?

[*she hears his voice very softly*]

R: In the living room. Come here.

[*when she enters the living room she hardly trusts her eyes; there are two delivered pizzas and a bottle of lemonade on the small table; the flickering fireplace provides a pleasant warmth; classical music is playing softly in the background*]

S/o: What's going on here? Pizza in the living room?

R: You don't like itーー Hmm... You think it's boring... Haah... I know I'm a dull man. I'm sorry.

[*she goes to him and hugs him*]

S/o: Don't talk such nonsense. You're not a dull man. It’s just so unusual. And it's absolutely perfect!

R: Are you sure?

[*she smiles*]

S/o: Of course! Come on, let's eat the pizza before it gets cold.

[*during dinner he tells her about a book he got from that man; she listens carefully; when he analyzes the book down to the smallest detail, she has to smile; suddenly he interrupts his lecture and gets a gift for her*]

R: (name s/o), I have something for you.

S/o: To me? Why are you giving me something? It's not my birthday at all.

R: What a cruel-hearted man I would be if I didn't give you a little attention every now and then.

[*she smiles at him*]

S/o: Thank you so much.

[*excitedly, she unwraps the gift; her eyes light up when she sees the crime series collection*]

S/o: OH MY GODーー!

[*she kisses him again and again*]

S/o: Thank you so much. You're totally crazy. And you're the best.

R: As your master it's my duty to make you happy.

[*she snuggles up to him*]

S/o: Will you read the book to me?

[*he looks surprised at her; then he smiles*]

R: Of course. I gladly do that.

[*he looks deep into her eyes*]

R: You're really precious to me. Stay by my side. Forever.

[*he kisses her*]

R: I love you (name s/o).

S/o: I love you too.

[*he begins to read; she nuzzles her head on his shoulder and happily listens to his words*]

((I hope you like it 💕

[chemist-ana]

Chapter 13 The Morning After— Sams POV

Book: The Nanny Affair

Characters: Sam, Ana Schuyler (MC), Vivan and Mason Dalton

Pairing: Sam Dalton (male) x Ana Schuyler (MC)

Rating: 18+

Content Warning: NSFW, Sexual Language, Adult Language, Sexual Situations

A/N I know there are a lot of people that do not like Sam Dalton- that being said, this chapter was especially difficult for me to write, because I am trying to give him a redeeming character arc. As a person that is involved with the family business, I can understand to a degree where he is coming from with the guilt and what he chooses some of the decisions he does. BUT please do not forgot that MC is culpable and definitely at fault as well. There are definitely some cringe worthy things in this chapter- but I hope y'all love it! Also a super big thank you for @txemrn for talking me through some of these ideas and for being the queen of angst. Love you p.

Summary: In the cold light of day, will you and Ana be able to face the consequences of your actions?

Word Count: 5800

Tag List:  @txemrn @secretaryunpaid @lifeaskim @aussieez @pixie88 @thefrenchiemama @sfb123 @mainstreetreader @shewillreadyou @khoicesbyk @lady-calypso @choicesficwriterscreations @somersetmummy @melalicious8383 @chrissythadon @shannonwrote @jerzwriter

The sound of my footsteps, my labored breathing, and the early morning traffic are the only sounds in my ears, as I push my legs faster through Central Park. I reach up and wipe at the sweat that is beading on my brow, silently cursing the wretched New York, humid, summer mornings.

I usually run with music blasting in my ears… but I decided this morning to torture myself, and I can’t decide whether its working. The sounds of Ana’s moans echo through my mind, as steady as my heart beats. I see a gorgeous blonde running towards me and I give her a crooked smile as our eyes connect. She just about trips on the pavement before composing herself mid stride and continues past me, avoiding my gaze.

Well that didn’t help.

I push myself harder in the last few hundred yards of my run, and when my building finally comes into view, I slow down to a walk, reaching my arms up to catch my breath.

“Good morning, Mr. Dalton.” The morning doorman greets as he opens the door to the lobby for me.

“Thanks, Felix.” I nod as I breeze past him, waving my keycard at the scanner to my penthouse elevator.

When the door dings open, I hold my breath as I walk quietly through the still living room, everyone is still sleeping. I stop outside of Ana’s door. Resting my hands on her door frame and closing my eyes. I take a deep breath, what the fuck happened last night… I walk into my master bathroom, turning the shower water on cold.

My brain delves into the guilt that is sitting heavy on my shoulders. The guilt that I have for the years I spent fucking off in college instead of setting myself up for my future. The guilt I have for losing Eva. The guilt I have for hiring Ana… And now to add more… the guilt that I have for fucking her last night. What the fuck were you thinking? I tilt my head up into the cold water, letting the shock send a shudder down my spine.

My life has revolved around this family business… watching the countless hours my father has spent building it from nothing into this global conglomerate. The knowledge that one day, this would all be mine. The endless chiding from my father to fit into his mold of what the perfect CEO would be. Married with children. I have truly never been in control of my life… even when I married Eva. I thought she was the one… but now that I have Ana… stop it you fool, you don’t have Ana… she deserves better than your spineless tricks. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what am i doing? I reach up and rest my hands on the shower wall, letting my head lull forward.

What the fuck happens next?

***

“Good morning.” I greet the twins and Ana as I round the corner into the kitchen.

“Morning, dad.” The boys look at me with defeated looks, I’m guessing it has something to do with the beige mush in their bowls.

I cast a quick glance at Ana as a blush creeps up her neck.

“Ana? Are you alright?”

She shakes her head slightly before looking at me.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking about last night.” Her eyes linger on mine.

The all too clear memory of her moans and the feel of her body come flooding back into my mind again, but I quickly shove them away as I stare back at her.

“Yeah! Carter said you went to that fancy party thing with Dad!” My eyes flick to Mason as he sets his spoon down.

“Did you pull any pranks?” Mickey asks with a smile.

“Not this time. Maybe we just needed someone to show us how it’s done.” I look between them.

“I’d rather stay home and eat pizza, thanks!” Mickey’s eyes grow wide as he takes another bite of his mush, god that doesn’t look good at all.

I grab a cup of coffee and turn to walk towards my office.

“Can we talk later?” Ana whispers as she leans in close to me.

My stomach drops and I feel my body stiffen. I don’t spare her a glance before answering. “… Yes. Later.”

Without another word I head to my home office, leaving a stunned Ana behind. I can feel her gaze as I round the corner and close the door quietly behind me.

I don't know what to say to you yet, Ana…

I sit down in my Wegner chair, switching the Tiffany Lamp on. I rub my hands down my face with a sigh. The silence is broken by the ringing of my cell phone, I glance down and my fathers name is flashing on the screen.

“Hey, dad.” I set my phone on my desk and turned it on speaker.

“Sam, things in Italy are not clearing up. I need you there to fix this mess.”

I let out a sharp exhale through my teeth and pinch the bridge of my nose.

“This is pretty short notice.”

“After what happened in Milan, LEMA is having some hesitations as to our abilities to run a company that handles sensitive medical information. I don't think I need to tell you how important this deal is. We need to take care of this ourselves, unless you want me to send Robin?” I can hear the challenge in his voice as my chest constricts.

“How long do you think I will be there?” I ask, avoiding his antagonizing, my mind flashing to the boys… and then to Ana..

“Does it matter, Sam? As long as it takes. I already spoke with Sofia, she is going to go with you. I have some briefs and copies of all the contracts being sent to your office now. You will need to read them all to get caught up. I also scheduled you the jet for tomorrow morning.”

My head falls back as I close my eyes.

“Sam?”

“Yeah, yeah, dad, I heard you. I will be there soon.”

“I’ll be in your office at noon.” He ends the call.

I glance down at my watch, it's already 11.  FUCK.

I look at my office door, time to do whatever needs to be done.

I walk quietly through the penthouse, running over the words in my head. I hear the twins in their room, and I decide to start with them. When I see Ana putting their laundry away, my breath gets caught in my throat. At least you only have to say this once…

“I’m about to go into the office, but I wanted to talk to you first.” I say as I walk into their room.

I watch out of the corner of my eye as Ana turns towards me. I move further into the twins room and take a seat on the edge of the lower bunk bed. Mason and Mickey stand in front of me.

“What’s wrong, Dad? You look sad…” Mason’s face drops when he notices my crestfallen expression.

“I’m not… sad. I just know you’re not going to like what I have to say.” I take a deep breath and clear my throat.

“Then you gotta just rip it off. Like a Band-Aid.” Mickey smiles.

“Right, like a Band-Aid.” I keep my eyes fixed on the twins but I can feel the heat from Ana’s gaze. “I have to go to Italy for a business trip… as soon as possible.”

A silence settles over the room as the twins look between themselves..

“What? You’re fleeing the country, just like that?” Ana breaks the palpable silence.

“I wouldn’t call it ‘fleeing’. Dalton Enterprises has been in negotiations for months, and after the Milan breach… well my dad just doesn’t trust anyone else to handle it.”

“What about us?” Mason murmurs sadly.

“Aunt Sofia isn’t staying here, is she?” Mickey's eyes are wide.

“No, she’ll be in Naples with me. But don’t worry, you won’t be alone. You’ll have Ana.” I turn to  face Ana and her gaze is focused on the twins, but I can see the hurt in her emerald eyes.

“Let’s not overreact here. It’s just a flight and some meetings, right? I bet your dad will be back before you know it.” A smile trains on the corners on her lips as she tries to brighten the mood.

I wish that was all…

“Actually… depending on the negotiations, I could be gone a couple months.”

“A couple months?” Mickey shouts.

“But… that’s the rest of summer.”  I look at Mason and see only one thing: disappointment.

“Seriously, Sam? That’s so long! For the boys I mean.” Her eyes fall to the floor.

“My parents were often overseas for months at a time when I was younger. They’ll survive.” I hate the words as they leave my lips.

“But don't you want them to do more than just survive?” She looks up at me in concern.

“I’m trying to not let emotions cloud my judgement here. I don't have a choice in the matter.” I clench my jaw.

“You always have a choice, Sam.” Her eyes hold mine.

I take a deep breath turning my attention back to the twins.

“Can we at least come visit you while you’re gone?” Mason is picking at a piece of string that is fraying from his blanket.

“Of course, buddy. I’m sure we can work something out. In the meantime, why doesn’t Ana take you two out for the day?” I rest my hands on the twins' shoulders. “I’ve got to prepare for my trip, but we’ll have a special dinner tonight before I go. Promise.” I wrap my arms around them and bring them tight to my sides. I wish I didn't have to leave you… someday you will understand. I hope.

I walk out of the twins room, avoiding the heat from Ana’s gaze as she watches me.

***

The words all run together as I sit at my desk and try to read the briefs from Italy. My office door opens and my eyes meet my fathers’s as he strolls in and sits in the leather chair in front of me.

“Did you read all of those?” He asks gruffly, his eyes flicking down to the papers that are strewn across my desk.

I collect all of them into a stack as I avoid his gaze. “I got the jist.”

A silence settles between us and I can feel his eyes trained on me. When I finally raise my gaze, he narrows his eyes and his mouth sets in a thin line. “What’s going on with you, Sam?”

“Nothing, Dad, I’m just tired. Didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Don’t insult me, I know you better than that. You are distracted, you have been since your mother and I got back from Italy. Have you been drinking too much again?”

I raise my brow at him incredulously. “Dad.”

“Is it that pretty nanny of yours?” He says mockingly.

My eyes fall to the stack of papers.

“Oh, son. Really?”

“No, dad, it-it’s not her.” Boy that wasn't very convincing.

“Yes it is. I know that look.” A long silence stretches and I avoid his gaze. “Remember Pam?”

I meet his eyes.  “Aunt Pam, your old secretary?”

He purses his lips and nods. He takes a deep breath, clearly warring with what he wants to say next. “It only lasted a few months, and your mother knows nothing about this.”

“Wait, you had an affair?”

“It’s not something I am proud of. But let me tell you something. Women like her, and your nanny…” He waves his hand dismissively. “Are only good for one thing, son.” He leans forward in his chair and arches his brow. “And it’s not making you the man that you need to be to run this company.” He leans back, steepling his fingers on his knees. “Now, a woman like Sofia, that is who is going to take you far in life, and bring you where you need to be.”

I’m fucking speechless. I can’t defend my honor, or Ana’s.  Because what if he’s right?

***

My phone dings with a text, Ana.

Ana: Heading back, ETA 20 min

Ana: You need us to pick anything up on our way?

Ana: Or do you have the special dinner all planned out?

Fuck. I’m not getting out of here for at least another hour.

Sam: About that…

Ana: Why am I not surprised? This is becoming your MO.

I clench my jaw.

Sam: What’s that supposed to mean?

Ana: You’re a smart man. Figure it out.

I whisper a quiet fuck and I see Robin’s head snap up.

“Trouble at home?” He asks, as a cocky smile spreads across his face.

I ignore him.

Sam: Ana…

Ana: I’ll take care of dinner for the boys sake. But you’d better come up with an AMAZING apology dessert for them.

Sam: I am sorry to bail on this

Sam: I will bring something home for dessert.

Sam: Okay?

She doesn't respond, and I pinch my eyes closed in frustration.

I turn back to the final pages of the contract with LEMA before sighing and throwing it to the table.

“Find anything?” Robin asks.

“No. And I need to go home. I need to spend what little time I have left in the city with the boys.”

“Go, I will make sure all of this makes it onto the jet tomorrow morning.” Robin leans back in his chair. “You know dad wants me with you tomorrow, right?”

I stop in my tracks and slowly turn to him. “No. I was not aware of that.”

He shrugs his shoulders and crosses his leg over his knee. “Now you do.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, and decide against saying anything else. Can just one thing go my way today? I grab my keys and phone, stuffing them into my pocket. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“See ya.” He waves as I walk out of the door.

***

I walk into the foyer with my suitcase, setting it next to the elevator doors just as they ding open and Ana, Mason, and Mickey step out.

“Welcome back. Did you three have fun at the museum?” My eyes are locked on Ana, sadness filling her emerald eyes. My chest constricts as my thoughts are haunted by my fathers confession.

“The museum was alright but dinner was even better! We stopped at a food truck festival on the way home.” Mickey chimes.

“I tried a poke bowl!” Mason is vibrating with excitement.

“Really? Did you like it?” I ask him, surprised.

“It was amazing!” Mason cheered as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

“And we got something for you!” Mickey gestures to the bag in Ana’s hands.

“That was thoughtful of you.” I look at Ana as she hands me the bag, not meeting my gaze.

“It was their idea.” She murmurs looking down at the boys.

I look inside of the paper bag, Kung Pao… god it's my favorite. “I love Kung Pao. How did you know?”

“Just a lucky guess.” Her tone is even and neutral. Distant.

“Right.” I take a breath, clearing my throat and turning back to the boys.

“Why don’t you two wash your hands, then head into the kitchen for your special dessert?” The boy's eyes widened.

“On it!” They race toward the bathroom, leaving Ana and I alone in the hallway. Still avoiding my eyes, she breezes past me into the kitchen. I follow her slowly, watching the soft sway of her hips.

“Ana.” She stops in her tracks and I see her shoulders tense.

“Yes?” She slowly turns towards me.

“Thank you for dinner, for both me and the boys. I shouldn’t have backed out of my promise to have a special meal with them.” My apology comes out even and measured as I watch her carefully.

“No, you shouldn’t have.” She says matter of factly, her eyes finally rising to mine. She sighs softly. “And you’re welcome.”

“It really looks delicious.” I set the container on the counter, taking a big bite with a fork. My eyes are trained on hers and I can see her face soften.

“You’ve got a little…” She grabs a napkin, stepping up slowly and reaching up to wipe at my lip.

The smell of jasmine and Ana fill my senses as our breath mixes in the air between us.

“Oh…” I whisper in surprise at the intimate gesture.

“... All better.” She smiles softly up at me, her emerald eyes piercing. An electric charge lingering in the space between us.

The moment is broken when we hear the boys running towards us in the kitchen. She takes a step back, turning away from me.

“Dessert time!” Mickey cheers as he slides into the kitchen.

“What’re we having?” Mason shifts from foot to foot.

“I thought you’d like to make some s’mores…” I know they are your favorite.

“With the mega-big marshmallows?” Mickey’s eyes grow wide. God, I am going to miss these kids…

“Of course.” I match his smile and gesture towards the platter of s’mores supplies laid out on the counter.

“I’ll, uh, leave you three to it.” Ana says softly as she slowly backs out of the kitchen.

“Where are you going? You haven’t even had s'mores yet!” Mason turns to Ana.

“I don’t want to intrude on father-son bonding time with your last night together.” She smiles softly at Mason.

“You wouldn’t be intruding.” I say hopefully. Please stay…

“Still… you should have some privacy.” She holds my eyes for a moment longer before turning and walking out of the room. What have I done?

***

I am sitting in the dim lighting of my office. My fingers wrapped around a glass of Eagle Rare Bourbon as I gaze out of the window. My thoughts are a jumbled mess as I bring the tumbler to my lips.  I hear the door open slowly and I glance over to see Ana enter quietly, clicking the door shut behind her.

“I thought I might see you again tonight.” I say as I turn my focus back towards the city lights outside.

“Sam, we need to talk about us.”

I can sense the sadness behind her words.

“Ana…” I sigh as I look at her with regret.

I see her shoulders tense as she balls her hands up into fists at her side. Red hot color rising on her cheeks.

“You owe me this, Sam. Don’t pretend like you don’t.” Anger drips from her every word.

I take a deep breath and give her a small nod, but I have no words. I get lost in my own thoughts again... You’re right… but I have no idea what to say to you. There is nothing I can do about this fucked up situation I put us in… I am so sorry that I dragged you into this mess. I am a selfish man that longs to be with you… but I have no control.

“We had sex last night, Sam.” Her voice cracks.

My chest tightens.

“I haven’t forgotten.” My eyes still trained on the city lights outside.

“It feels like you want to. In fact, it feels like you’re running halfway around the world because of it.”

My breathing gets shallow as she takes a step towards me, the anger rolling off of her in waves.

“You’re a lot of things, Sam, but I never took you for a coward.” Her voice laced with contempt as she stepped in front of me.

My eyes flick to hers as a new emotion bubbles to the surface: anger.

“A coward?” I whisper as I lift to my feet and we stand face-to-face.

“You heard me.” She tips her nose in the air. “You could have walked away last night.”

I can't help the humorless laugh that escapes my lips. How does she not understand that I cannot control myself around her?

“I wish that were true.” It would make my life a whole hell of a lot easier. God help me, I can’t resist you.I reach up and run my fingertips down her cheek, watching her shudder at my touch, but her expression remains guarded and angry.. “I’ve been trying to walk away from you since the moment we met. Yet somehow… I always end up back here.”

She steps back out of my reach, crossing her arms in front of her chest. My eyes scan down the length of her body.

“That’s not good enough, Sam.” Her eyes bore into mine.

God Dammit woman.

“Let’s get one thing straight here, Ana. The timing of this trip may seem suspicious to you, but I don’t want to go. I have to go.” I take a step toward her, narrowing my eyes. “And every time I look at you, it’s a reminder of what I’m leaving behind.”

Her eyes widen as her anger starts to slip. “Really? You aren’t relieved to have an escape?”

“No! This is so much worse.” I take a deep breath, trying to reign in my anger. My urge to control her and have her bare before me is making my cock twitch.  I watch as Ana turns and steps to the window. The war inside of my head battles on before I finally give in. I step up behind her, running my nose along the sensitive skin below her ear before grabbing her hips and pulling her against me. I feel her body melt into mine. She turns to face me, and I place my hands on either side of her head, the cold glass a welcome reprieve from the heat coursing through my veins. I press my desire against her and I watch as her eyes darken.

“Sam, you should fire me now.” She whispers. “Neither one of us has the strength to resist. Stopping cold turkey is the only answer. You go to Italy, conquer the business world, marry Sofia. I’ll move out and find something else. We both walk away, hands clean. Well… as clean as they can be.”

I can see it in her eyes that she doesn’t believe the words she is saying, but it doesn't stop them from stinging my heart.

“My hands aren’t clean, Ana. How can they be, when I think about you every time I touch myself?” My eyes flick down to her plump, pink lips. “Or when I want to murder the next man who touches you?”

“Then what’s the endgame here? What do you want?” She pleads, her eyes shining in the dim light.

“I want you, dammit.” I confess.

She grabs the lapels of my suit and pulls me even closer to her curves,

“Prove it.” She challenges, her eyes dark.

She brings her lips to mine and our lips ignite into a frenzy of heat and frustration. I bring my arms around to her lower back and pull her hips snug to mine. A sudden feeling of regret passes through my mind and I pull back, a question in my eyes.

“Ana…” I warn.

“Don’t think. Just feel.” She purrs as she pushes my jacket off of my shoulders. She runs her fingernails across the back of my neck softly before pulling my lips down to hers again. I grab her hips, spinning her around and pinning her back against the cold glass of the window. She gasps at the sensation as I grab her wrists and pin them over her head. I use my free hand to roam the planes of her curves, her body igniting under my touch.

“Sam...” She moans as her eyes flutter shut.

I find the hem of her shirt and dive underneath, finding the lace of her bra, I run my fingers along the gentle curve of her breasts. Her chest heaving and pushing her perfect body into my eager hands.

“Has it really only been a day since I last touched you like this?” I whisper against her lips. “Already feels like a lifetime ago…”

She arches her back, pressing deeper into me as I let out an involuntary moan. God the things this woman does to me…

“Can you really go the rest of the summer without this?” I can feel her smile against my lips.

“I can’t even go the next five minutes without it.” I admit as my cock hardens uncomfortably in my pants.

I reach down and cup her ass, picking her up and carrying her to my desk. I sweep everything off of my desk and lay her down. Her emerald eyes dark with desire as she watches me remove every article of her clothing, throwing them haphazardly around the room. Her chest rises and falls, and her lips are swollen with our kisses. I kiss each piece of newly exposed flesh, the soft moans coming from her lips a sound of pleasure and surrender.

“God, I want to eat you up…” I say against her hip. She looks down at me and takes her bottom lip between her teeth.

“You’ve gotta earn that privilege.” A challenge in her eyes as she sits up and places her hands on my chest, pushing me away from her. Her nearly naked body glowing in the colored light from the Tiffany Lamp.

“Ana?” I ask.

“You’ve been a naughty boy, Sam.” She purrs. “And you know what that means, I’m going to tie you up.”

“Fuck.” I whisper and her words send another surge of heat and desire through me. I watch as she gracefully slides off of the desk, motioning for me to sit down in my chair.

“Wait. Undress first.”  She leans in and skims her fingers across my chest, then tugs lightly on the flap of my shirt. “I don't want to have to deal with this later.”

You naughty, fucking minx.

I quickly strip off my clothes, my eyes never leaving hers as I take a seat in my chair, resting my arms on the armrests. I watch her carefully as she digs through a drawer in my desk, pulling two spare computer cords out. I watch as her steady hands tie my forearms and wrists to the chair. My eyes travel across her barely clothed body and I think of all the things I wish to do to her perfect ass.

She steps back, a look of pride flashing across her eyes.

“Aren’t you a sight?” She smiles as she looks at me hungrily.

“Ana…” I murmur.

I tried to move my arms, but she did a damn good job tying me down.

“This isn’t fair. I want to touch you.”

“Oh… You want to talk about not fair?” She clenches her jaw as she saunters up to me, the movement of her hips accentuated by the delicate fabric. “Everything that’s happened today hasn’t been fair.” Her eyes narrow at me as she leans towards me. She is careful not to touch me but I can feel the electricity crackling between us. Her perfect breasts are right in front of my face and I know she can feel my hot breath against them. “And now you’re being punished for it.”  She stands up and gracefully hops back up onto my desk.

She leans back, spreading her legs wide open, revealing every single perfect inch of her perfect body to me. I watch her fingers slide down her curves until they come to rest between her legs, slipping underneath her panties to rub at her center.

Fuck me.

“Ohmygod…” I moan as my cock hardens more than I even thought possible. The throbbing is almost unbearable as I watch her fingers spread the moisture that is pooling in between her legs. Her head lulls back as moans escape her lips.

“Ohh, YES!” She cries out, her body tensing.

My eyes are trained on her perfect cunt as she worships it with her fingers. My breathing is growing labored as I think about all the things I want to do. Her hips are bucking as she nears her edge.

“Ana, please…. Let me touch you.” I beg, my voice husky. I can’t help but lick my lips as I think about her sweetness.

Her eyes open and her fingers slow as she considers me.

“I don't know… Have you been punished enough yet?” She smiles.

“No… but I can’t make it up to you properly unless you let me touch you. Please.” I am not above begging at this point.

She leans forward, and I watch her untie the cords from my wrists. As soon as I can tell that I am free, I reach up, grabbing her body and hauling it into mine. I bring my lips to hers and kiss her deeply, tasting her, reveling in the feel of our tongues together. I stand up, pressing her back down on the desk and I grab the delicate lace of her panties and push them down her thighs.

“I haven't been able to think about anything else all day…” I whisper against her lips. I can feel her smile. “You drive me to distraction even when you aren’t spread out in front of me…”

“And now?” She asks as she arches her back up off the desk.

I trace a delicate line up her bare legs, slowly teasing my way to her center.

“And now… I can barely control myself. I want to devour you.” I growl.

She leans back and spreads her legs wider.

I stand up and run my eyes slowly over every single piece of her exposed flesh, she blushes that delicious color.

The most beautiful thing I have ever fucking scene.

“Yes… I love seeing you open like this for me.” I murmur as my eyes scan her body over and over again, lingering on her exposed cunt.

I drop to my knees, and lower my mouth between her thighs as I lap up her pooling moisture. I watch as her eyes flutter closed, her eyelashes laying like fans across her cheeks. Her breathing intensities and her moans echo around the room. She calls out my name in ecstasy.

“If you want me to make this up to you properly, then you can’t come yet.” I challenge her. “Can you do that, Ana? Can you hold back until I tell you?” I punctuate my question with a devilish twirl of my tongue and she gasps.

“Yes! Sam… bring it on. I can take whatever you have to give. Don’t hold back.” She is panting and her perfect cunt is dripping for me. Her eyes find mine and I can see the challenge accepted. Good girl.

I trail kisses back to her center, dipping and tasting her pooling wetness. So fucking sweet. Her body shivers as I continue to flick my tongue against her. I reach down and grab my aching cock, running my hand up and down the throbbing shaft.

“Oh god… I’m gonna…” Her body starts to tense and my pumping increases.

“Already? I thought you said you could take it.” I say, my lips moving against her.

I feel her body tremble as she moans.

“Ohmygod, that feels… Sam, don’t stop.”

Never, beautiful. I will never stop doing this to you.

I groan out her name as the pleasure in my body nears the edge, my tongue continuing to flick at her exposed flesh. I call out her name as I find my release and I feel her body tense as she cries out mine. We ride out each other's orgasm, ecstasy blinding me.

Eventually her body sags against the desk, her breathing rapid. I stand up and wrap my arms around her body, bringing her tight to me as our breathing slows.

I untangle myself from her and we both stand and get dressed in a silence that is thick with tension.

The reality of what just happened hits me hard as I watch her button up her silk blouse.

Fuck. Again. No fucking control, Dalton, you total fuck up.

Without a word she moves towards the door, lingering with her hand on the door knob.

“Sam, I-”

“I’m sorry, Ana. I didn't mean to get so carried away. It won’t happen again.” I interrupt her, saying the only thing I can think of at this moment… words I regret as soon as they escape my lips.

I watch as confusion spreads across her face and she gives me a silent nod.

“My flight leaves early. I’ll be gone before you wake up…” I say softly.

“Oh. I see. I guess this is… goodbye.” She looks down at the floor, her fingers playing at the hem of her shirt. She wraps her arms around herself and slowly begins to slip out of the door.

“I shouldn’t have dragged you into this mess. You deserve so much better than me.”

My words halt her in her tracks. She looks over her shoulder at me, and I see her eyes shining.

“I can decide what I ‘deserve’ for myself.” She walks out of the room without another word, and I am left even more pissed with myself than I was this morning. I sit down at my desk and run my hands through my hair.

She’s right… you are being a coward. I am avoiding this shit storm I created for myself by running away…

I sip another glass of bourbon as I come to the only solution I can think of: postpone my trip to Italy, and even though it will probably bite me in the ass… Ana and the boys have to come with me. My stomach sours at the thought of Robin getting a hand on this before me… but I shove the thought aside.

That's it.

***

I nurse my second cup of coffee as I watch the sunrise through the windows. I hear soft footsteps walking down the hallway and I swallow my nerves. Ana rounds the corner and stops short when she sees me, a glimmer of hope and surprise flashing through her eyes.

“Sam?! What’re you going here? I heard you leave this morning…”

“I did a lot of thinking last night, but I didn’t come to a conclusion in time to cancel my car earlier.” I try to control my excitement.

“What conclusion?” She asks carefully.

“That you were right. I was being a coward and running away from my problems. I sent Robin ahead and postponed my meetings to next week so I could do this right. I’m turning this business trip into a family vacation for all of us.” Her face lit up.

“You mean…” A smile playing on her lips.

“Pack your bags, Ana. You’re coming with me to Italy.”

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

Black lace and property damage

Summary: With your messy work hours, Bucky’s consistently inconsistent mission schedule, and those basic life tasks you’re both ignoring (when was the last time he actually bought a new toothbrush?), the simple act of just being together has been shunted to the side. Bucky’s officially starting to panic.  

Characters: Bucky x Reader Warnings: SMUT, 18+. Sweet sex, awkward sex, some dirty sex, some sex on a car. Basically sex. Swearing. Bucky wearing a white t-shirt and dog tags. My sketchy automotive knowledge.

A/N: This story is sort of an ode to anyone struggling to make time for your person. Life gets busy, so don’t be afraid to get creative. Also sometimes sex goes smooth and perfect, but often it comes with mishaps and giggles. Both ways are great, Bucky says just roll with it!

Want to find all my stories? Search #bitsmasterlist or try the link in my bio!

*****

The porch light above the front door is out.

Was he supposed to change that before he left?

--

“I’m not touching it Bucky, there are spiders up there. Big ones. The kind that give you rabies.”

“Spiders don’t have rabies.”

“No one’s ever proven that.”

--

Dammit. Yeah, he was.

Picturing you stumbling up the porch, using the pathetic flashlight on your phone to light the way, Bucky feels like a world class, Grade A jackass. He needs to make it up to you.

Good thing he has plenty of ideas for that.

“Please be home,” he mutters, “please be home, please dear god be fucking home.”

Fingers crossed, he kicks the door open and calls out a hopeful hello.

An empty echo returns.

Bucky blows out a frustrated breath.

Figures.

Slogging down the dark hallway, he slings his bag on the kitchen table with a thud. Grenade pins, bullet casings, fun size candy bar wrappers, and handfuls of beer bottle caps rattle loose in the army green canvas and he grimaces.

One of these days, maybe, just fucking maybe, he’ll convince Natasha to stop using his bags as her garbage bin.

Ignoring that disaster zone (a problem for future Bucky), he wanders over to the sink, where he spies a small tableau on the counter. Propped up beside his favorite coffee mug, the one with sparkly pink letters proclaiming “Bitch, I’m Fabulous”, is a folded piece of paper, his name scrawled across the front.

He flips it open.

“Hey Bucky Bear. Don’t let your sexy ass fall asleep before I get home, I have a surprise!”

Drawn under your bubbly letters, he finds two stick figures entangled in an outrageously lewd sex act. Tracing tender fingers over the very obviously male stick figure (you never were very subtle), he grins so hard his cheeks ache. Leaning on the counter, he sniffs the letter because he’s a sentimental sap and it smells like your Cherry-Almond lotion, and drops his head in his arms.

“So tired,” he whines softly, voice muffled against sleek granite.

Three weeks. That was the last mission. Three weeks, even though Steve guaranteed Bucky three days max. Of course, two days into the mission Bucky remembered that Steve Rogers is an accomplished liar, so instead he spent three exhausting weeks dodging bullets, rewashing all his underwear, and hysterically rationing his bag of fun size candy bars.

Finally home, he wants to forget everything and sink into the post-mission domesticity he dreams about when he’s stuck in some dank motel on the corner of Fuck This and No One Cares. The routine is simple. A scalding hot shower, burrito wrapping himself in the feather duvet, making out with you for a few hours, taking a break to eat some pizza, and then fucking you so hard he breaks the brand new headboard he made for you last month (actually the third headboard he’s made...a fact he smugly reports to anyone and everyone).

And after all that fun, he wants to sleep. Maybe two full days. Or five. Tops.

Is that asking too much?

“No,” he sighs out loud. “It’s not.”

Carefully folding the cartoon and your sweet message, he kisses the paper and tucks it in his back pocket.

No way he’s falling asleep before he sees you. Nope. Nada. Negative. Totally not happening.

Pepping himself up, he goes to work, whizzing through his homecoming task list.

Blood-stained tac clothes go in the washer with three cups of bleach. Guns and knives are wiped down and polished. The contents of the dirty green canvas bag are unceremoniously trashed. The spider infested porch light is changed (with only three furry sightings). The shower is set to a blistering temp and he hangs out in there for an hour, soaping his hair into a foamy mohawk, belting out a few showtunes with his shampoo bottle microphone.

Scrubbed fresh and clean, he flops on the bed with his Starkpad and opens up Netflix, searching for something to keep him awake. Several scrolls later, he finds Brooklyn 99 and settles in for a laugh.

Confident in his ability to resist the appealing pull of sleep scratching at his brain, he takes a slurp of the Super Double Big Gulp sized coffee on his nightstand and stretches his eyes wide open.

Staying awake. Piece of cake.

Ten minutes later, Bucky’s fast asleep.

*****

When his eyes pop open, the room is dark. He feels tipsy, sleep drunk on his first uninterrupted hours of rest in weeks.

Beside him, he feels the cozy pressure of another body. Glancing down, he finds you curled under the sheets at his side, your face smushed against his arm, steady breaths fogging the gleaming metal.

Asleep.

Bucky grits his teeth. Squeezes his eyes shut. One thing. You asked him to do one thing.

God. Dammit.

Furious with his lame old man ass, he almost wakes you up. Almost. But then he swallows that desire and thinks.

Before he got married, Bucky read every relationship advice book under the sun. He gets the importance of keeping the romance alive. He knows you need to cherish your person, make them a priority, shower them with love. He knows. He gets it. He watches Oprah, for fuck’s sake. Relationships take work.

But lately? This is life.

With your messy work hours, Bucky’s consistently inconsistent mission schedule, and those basic life tasks you’re both ignoring (when was the last time he actually bought a new toothbrush?), the simple act of just being together has been shunted to the side.

Bucky’s officially starting to panic.

Although, he muses, eyes lingering on the innocent curve of your mouth, the chaos has forced both of you to get more…creative.

He grins.

It was you who instigated it the first time. He was lying in a dingy motel bed when you nervously offered.

--

“Hey, um…do think maybe you’d…like…would you…uh…”

“Spit it out babe.”

“Doyouwannatryphonesex?”

--

An anxious slur so fast, he nearly misses the question. He remembers that beat of hesitation, before you dove in headfirst, telling him in obscenely explicit detail exactly what you wanted to do to him. He was so shocked he dropped the phone and had to naked crawl under the grimy mattress to fish it out.

He must’ve jerked off five times that night. Replaying your filthy words. Remembering the quiet whimpers as you came on your fingers, gasping out his name. What a treat.

Sexting soon followed, accompanied by a plethora of nudes. None from you of course, because as you always remind him, you’re a lady, but Bucky? He gets irrational joy from sending them. They come in a variety of close-ups and poses, several which Sam accidentally discovered when he walked in on Bucky prancing around naked, searching for his best angle.

Sam always knocks now.

But sometimes words and pictures aren’t enough. Sometimes you need the soothing weight of someone in your arms. The scent of sweaty skin beneath your nose. Hot breaths of pleasure in your ear and the touch of a cool tongue licking across a heated body.

Sometimes he just needs you.

Could he wake you up? Sure. He knows you wouldn’t mind, you’ve told him a thousand times. But he also knows how tired you’ve been, and he can’t bring himself to shake you awake, selfishly stealing those bits of recovery you need.

So instead, he searches for something to keep him occupied.

He tries reading Game of Thrones again and gets nowhere. Thinks yet again someone needs to get George R.R. Martin an editor.

He flicks on his phone and covertly watches PornHub on mute. Seriously debates whether he can get away with jerking off while you’re sleeping because hey, Bucky Barnes is nothing if not stealthy.

He stares up at the ceiling and tries to see how long he can hold his breath. He gets 2 minutes and 8 seconds (a new record) before giving up.

In the end, he rolls onto his side stares intently at you. Wills you to wake up on your own. Come on baby, please.

But nothing works, and when sleep still doesn’t come, he decides to be productive. Crawling carefully from the bed, he smothers a laugh when you curl instantly into the warm mattress dip of his body, burrowing further under the blankets and unconsciously stealing his pillow. Most mornings Bucky wakes up hanging off the bed, no blankets or pillows to his name, while you’re swathed in comfort, cold toes shoved beneath his belly.

Maybe he should be annoyed. Except every time he looks at you, he forgets how to scowl.

Love is weird.

Rummaging silently through the closet, he unearths a threadbare pair of jeans and an oil stained t-shirt, slips into his worn leather boots. He drops a light kiss on your forehead, brushing a finger down the curve of your neck. Smiles to himself when you snuffle a quiet snore.

And he heads out the backdoor, down the weatherworn brick to the garage out back.

It was an added bonus when he bought the house. An unanticipated domestic perk. Hell, he never thought he’d find someone would actually date him, let alone someone who wanted to marry him and buy a house with him and accept his penchant for hoarding things in a rickety old garage (come on, I grew up in the Depression and I need this, he whines every time you take him to Target).  

Thank god you said yes. He’s the luckiest jerk in the world.

Flicking on the garage light, Bucky still gets a little thrill. The entire place is an homage to eclectic, random artifacts, from the box of ugly 1970s vases he found at a flea market, to the fishing equipment he insisted on buying and has yet to use, to the sack of broken seashells you drunkenly collected on your honeymoon in Costa Rica.

In the midst of the swirl sits his pride and joy. Cherry red paint, black leather seats, a tad dusty, full of potential.

The 1969 Camaro looks like a teenage wet dream.

He remembers the day he brought it home, that surge of macho pride when your eyes lit up. After you slapped his ass and told him how sexy the car was, he reveled in your admiration for maybe 10 seconds, before hauling you back to the house and under the sheets. Took several hours before you both came up for air.

That was a good time, he thinks dreamily.

The car attracted his friends as well. Sam and Steve brought over a celebratory case of beer and stood by while Bucky explained the changes he had planned. Steve gave a few sage nods, while Sam helpfully threw out words like fuel injector now and then. Neither had a fucking clue what was happening, but Bucky graciously let them fake it.

Tony also saw the car once. Got a fervent gleam in his eye and started to say the phrase jet fuel, before Bucky ushered him out the door. Tony doesn’t get to see the car anymore.

There are still plenty of fixes to make, but for tonight he takes it easy. Flips on the ancient radio perched above the workbench and flops down on a rolling seat, sliding under the Camaro to tinker around. He goes to work, lets the crackle of the radio and the mechanical puzzle lull him into focus mode.  

So intent on the task at hand, he barely hears the garage door opening.

The click of a shoe alerts him too late and he freezes, gripping his wrench tight. Muscles tense, garage floor plans and fight scenarios flooding his brain.

“Bucky? Do you have a sec?”

His breath whooshes in relief at your voice. A silly grin bubbles up because you’re finally awake, until he tilts his head sideways, peering out from under the car to see your feet.

Black high heels.

Stomach sinking, Bucky closes his eyes. Back to work then. Motherfucker. He missed his chance again.

Swallowing down the bitter disappointment, he croaks out a plea.

“Hey babe, do you gotta go back to the office so soon? Can you just - “

Click click and you step between his legs. Firm hands clutch the oil stained fabric at his knees and you pull. The seat rolls easily and he slides free, squinting up at you in the dim light.

The words die on his lips.

Black high heels, yes.

And.

Lacy black underwear, the sides held together with thick satin ribbons. A lacy black bra, your breasts threatening to spill out.

Gorgeous, devilish smile.

Fingering the wide satin bow between your breasts, you tease a light tug and Bucky starts sweating like a virgin on prom night. His wrench slips from numb fingers, thunking him in the nuts and clattering away.

“Shit,” he grunts. There’s a moment of confusion on whether the fresh ache in his balls is from the punch of the wrench, or tantalizing swathes of skin before him, but then you say his name and he figures it out pretty fucking fast.

“Hey Bucky Bear,” you purr, in that raspy voice he loves. “Still want that surprise I promised?”

Palming himself roughly, Bucky adjusts the suddenly tight front of his jeans, eyeing you with a lusty smile. Fuck yes, he wants his surprise. He wants everything about you.

“You bet your sweet ass I do. What’d you have in mind?”

“I have some ideas,” you say playfully. Stepping closer, slipping your fingers into his silky hair, he leans into the touch. “And I promise we’ll get to them. But first, how about you stay down there and maybe show me how much you missed me?”

Torn, Bucky looks down at his oil stained fingers. They spasm, clutching the edge of the seat so tight the metal bends. His voice drops several octaves.

“Babe, I - shit, I’m gonna kill the mood here, but my hands are all dirty, I should wash ‘em first,” he apologizes. Rolling your eyes, you shift closer until the edge of his nose is a mere inch from the delicate lace panties.

“I’m not asking for your hands, soldier. You have a mouth. Get creative.”

Bucky’s jaw drops. Sassy and domineering? And nearly naked?

Hell yes, his dick shouts. Here we fucking go.

Warm and cool, tentative fingertips press into the smooth skin behind your knees, stroking higher until he’s plucking the satin ribbons and pulling. It feels like Christmas morning when the knot slowly breaks apart, whispers of satin and lace floating to the ground.

Nosing against your core, he inhales, long and deep. A low growl rumbles, rough hands gripping your hips tight and heat explodes across your skin when his tongue presses into your folds, licking over your clit.

“God,” your moan is dark, desperately breathless, “keep - that feels so good, Bucky, keep going, please, been way too long.”

Bucky gives a fervent nod of agreement, strands of his dark hair tickling your thighs. When was the last time he did this? Nah, you know what? If he has to ask, it’s been too long.

From now on, the only correct answer should be every damn day.

He feels you moving his head, guiding him exactly where you need him most, and he hums hungrily. Shoves his tongue deeper. He adores when you take charge, using him, his mouth or his fingers or his dick, to get yourself off. He loves it, dreams about it, wishes you would let him film it just one time (because sometimes missions last three weeks not three days Steve).

But until then, he devotes himself to making it perfect because you deserve perfect.

Fast, firm flicks of the tongue. Long, leisurely strokes, licking you slow and sweet. Rough pressure, his plush pink lips sucking tight around your clit. So good.

Your eyes fall closed as his tongue moves faster, quicker, pushing you closer closer closer -  

No, that won’t do. Cold metal lightly pinches your ass, a bid for attention. Chest heaving, you open your eyes.

Bright eyed and eager, Bucky gazes up from between your legs, looking thoroughly debauched. White t-shirt stretched tight across broad shoulders, dark hair mussed in your fingers, an obvious erection straining his jeans.

So close, you’re so close, right on the edge, just another second -

He knows, of course. Could always play you like a fiddle. He cocks a challenging eyebrow, sucks your clit between his teeth -

“Oh god, Bucky, fuck,” you moan. Weak knees buckle and his hands clutch your ass, keeping you upright and open. He never stops licking, swirling that talented tongue to draw out the bursts and shocks of pleasure until you’re gasping. When he’s wrung every drop from you, he kisses the sensitive bud and tips his head back with an arrogant smirk.

Legs like jelly, you promptly collapse into his lap.

The momentum of the fall sends the rolling seat flying. Busy being chivalrous and keeping you from tumbling headfirst onto dirty concrete, Bucky lets the wheels send him whizzing backward. His head smacks the door handle with a sharp thwack.

“Ow,” he grunts.

“Sorry,” you pant. Struggling for breath, wrapped in the haze of post orgasm bliss, you cuddle against him, soaking up his warmth. “Want me to rub it?”

Massaging his head, he wrinkles his nose. “Maybe. Depends on what you’re offering to rub.”

“Dealer’s choice,” you sass, and Bucky barks out a laugh. Wandering hands skim lightly over your shoulders, fingering the straps of the lacy bra, feather light trails along your collarbone, to the satin bow between your breaks. Tugging impatiently, he smiles when it unwinds, your breasts spilling free.

“Well, how about I take my pants off, we get in the backseat of this car, and you rub whatever you find.”

“Intriguing. What happens after I finish rubbing whatever…pokes my fancy?”

Bucky dips his head, takes your nipple between his lips, sucking gently. The feel of his wet mouth has you squirming closer until he pauses to offer an option.

“Maybe we fuck like a couple horny teenagers?”

“You’re killing me with the romance here, Barnes,” you say drily and he chuckles. “But I was maybe thinking something different.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

Licking a lazy strip between your breasts, he kisses up, up, up, until his tongue finds the hammering pulse of your heartbeat. Bemused, he hears your voice falter, before bravely offering your idea.

“I was thinking maybe I sit on the hood of your pretty red car, and – and you spread my legs and fuck me so good, I can’t walk for a week.”

Startled, Bucky pulls back. Excitement explodes in his chest.

“You - really? Seriously? That’s what you want?”

“Yep,” you confirm, palpable relief at successfully executing the dirty request. “That’s exactly what I want.”

Bucky plants a sloppy kiss on the tip of your nose. Wiggles his eyebrows and winks.

“Well god damn. You got it sweet cheeks.”

Wasting no time, he pushes off the ground and you kick your heels off, wrapping your legs around his waist. He huffs out a blissful moan when you suck a string of hickeys down his neck, grinding against you as he stumbles to the front of the car. Without thinking, he drops you on the shiny red hood and -

“Cold!”

Icy metal meets your bare ass. There’s a panicked scramble back into his arms and he manages to catch you, until your flailing upper cut cracks his jaw. It sends him off balance, tripping forward to smack his kneecaps on the Camaro’s fancy new grill. A grating screech tears the air and the grill rattles to the floor, the metallic clang bouncing off the walls.

Flinching, you peer up at him as it fades away.

Bucky’s nose twitches.

In all his fantasies (and there are many, because you are one sexy piece of ass), this shit never happens. Every sexcapade is effortlessly smooth, sensual and steamy, where you both look great, not a hair out of place, no oil-stained hands or unintended destruction of expensive vintage cars.

In reality, it seems like something always goes sideways. One of his nipples gets gouged by your fingernail or the silk from your negligee gets caught in the plates of his arm, or one of his perfectly aimed thrusts sends you both toppling off the bed. Sometimes he wonders if this is just the two of you? Do other people have perfectly orchestrated sex lives? Is porn not a true mirror of real life?

Is porn a lie?

Maybe he should watch more porn and form a more educated opinion.

For now, he takes in your crestfallen expression, vehemently shaking his head when you try to apologize.

“Buck, I’m sorry, I -“

Holding up a stern hand, he stops you cold. Sets you on your feet, gallantly whipping off his shirt, and spreading it on the shiny red paint. This time when he sets you on the hood, you lay back until the familiar scent of his cologne hugs you close. Bucky lifts your feet, propping each on the hood, spreading your legs open. He leans in close, a pink flush spreading over his chest, crawling up his throat, blue eyes turning dark.  

“Listen to me. Don’t ever apologize, okay? You’re worth more than this old junker.” A crooked smile tilts his mouth, his voice as soft as the lips now brushing yours. “You’re priceless. You understand?”

“Okay,” you murmur. Fingers dance lightly up the hard planes of his stomach, wrapping around the chain of his old dog tags. “I understand.”  

Bucky nods, watching your eyes drift down, drinking him up. He lives for that look. Sets him on fire, to watch you ogle him. When your eyes skate down his right side, he flexes his forearm a bit, because he knows it turns you on.   

A swift tug of the chain and he dips easily, mouth slanting over yours. There’s a faint sound of teeth clacking together, and he stifles a laugh at your excitement. Deep kisses, stoking that simmering fire sitting right below the surface. Your lips part and he slides inside, curling his tongue around yours, pulling away to lick along the corner of your mouth, to suck your bottom lip between his teeth.

The thought appears, same as when he had his mouth between your legs. How long has it been since the two of you just made out like this? Same answer? Too fucking long?

This is definitely happening more often.  

He feels your eager fingers reach for the button of his jeans, popping it open, slipping your hand inside. Cool fingers wrap tight around his cock, the other hand wandering down to squeeze a handful of his ass. Bucky hurriedly shimmies his pants to his knees, sets both hands on the car and leans forward, tipping his face down, touching his forehead to yours. Blue eyes flutter closed, breath hitching while he concentrates on the feel of your capable hands, slow strokes along his length, slicker with each tug.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he grits out. “Can you - damn that’s good - can you, there, bit lower -“

Ragged pants melt into a low groan when you slip your hand from the death grip on his ass to cup his balls, rolling them against your palm.

“Like that?”

“Yeah, yeah, yes, fuck yes, just like that,” he hisses, thrusting into your hands. “Can you - can you pull just a little-“

He stammers the question, ignoring your amused hum. It was a quirk, one he discovered early in the relationship. It came out of the blue, a bashful request during a romp in the sheets, but for some reason, Bucky has a thing for having his balls tugged. Not hard (which was also discovered after an unconsciously rough yank had him squealing in pain), but more of a soft squeeze, followed by a slow pull.

Like how you squeeze an overripe banana, he had explained later, gingerly massaging his balls. Not so hard it squishes.

Many entertaining attempts later, and he swears you have the move patented. Stroking his dick faster, your thumb presses over his balls, before a careful pull. Tipping his head back, Bucky stares glass eyed at the ceiling, lost in pleasure, pushing himself into your firm grip.  

“Feel good?” you murmur.

“Yeah. Yes, so good, so god damn good ,” he chokes out. Faster, harder, faster - and then a strangled gasp and panicked blue eyes catch yours. “Wait, too good, it’s too good! Don’t wanna come yet, hang on! Need to be inside you first.”

He grabs your wrists, the thwarted sting of a denied orgasm obvious in the grind of his teeth. Both of you look down to where your hands are wrapped around him, one still kneading his balls, the other curled around the velvety hot skin of his cock.

“Okay,” you say, looking him up and down. “Fine, but - you’re so sexy, Bucky. And I love your balls.”

Bucky nods furiously, gulping a deep lungful of air. His ass cheeks are twitching.

“I love that you love them, I really do. But babe, I need you to let go of my balls or I’ll come all over your hand,” he rasps, wiggling away. Releasing him, your hands run up his chest, twining around his neck, dragging his sweat damp chest flush against you.

“If I must,” you agree, smiling into his lips. Bucky relaxes into you, the slow melt of tongues follows, the kind where a kiss bounces around, until it finds the perfect rhythm. His hands trace up the line of your arms, unlocking your fingers and pulling them free. Brushing his thumbs over your wrists, he bends close, kisses your knuckles.

And then he folds your arms above your head, pinning them down.  

“Keep them there, alright? Don’t move until I say you can.”

“Kinky. Yes sir,” you breathe. He smirks.

“You’d better watch it, you little deviant. I might get used to that.”

“Sorry…sir.”

Pulling you further down the hood, he rubs his cock between your legs, sliding himself between your folds until a slick sheen coats his skin. It startles a grunt from you when he abruptly shoves inside, sinking deep until his hips press flush to yours.  

He waits. Has to wait actually, because its been a long damn time and if he’s not careful he’s going to embarrass himself before he even gets started and holy shit, is this even real life? Is he dreaming?

Splayed out on the hood of his car, legs wide open, breasts wet from his tongue, black lace and crumpled satin ribbons. Arms pinned above the luscious skin bared just for him. Bucky stares between your legs, dry mouthed and dizzy.

“Come on, Bucky, please? Fuck me, please fuck me, I missed you so much.”

How could he ever resist this? You naked, writhing against the vivid red of his Camaro, moaning for him to fuck you, with his cock buried in your -

“Aw fucking hell,” he mutters. After so many weeks apart, he knows full well this won’t last long. It’s a damn good thing he has more than a few rounds in him.

Cracking his neck, rolling his shoulders back, he digs thick fingers into your thighs, pulls back nice and slow. He waits. Waits. Waits a bit longer because he likes to be an asshole and hear you beg.

“Bucky, come on -”

And he plunges into you, burying himself in the tight, silky heat of your cunt. Warm up over, no slow start. The pace he sets is rough, so deep he feels the pleasure licking down his spine and into his toes. Over and over, he slams into you until one particularly sharp thrust presses the tip of his cock against that perfect spot inside and you arch up with a broken cry. Hands scrabble above your heard, searching for anything to hold onto, finding something flexible.

With a plastic snap, the windshield wiper blade breaks off in your hand.

Bucky stutters to a halt, blinking sweat from his eyes when he sees the look of horror on your face. The apology is still forming when he snatches the plastic from your fingers, throwing it aside.

“Don’t care,” he grunts. Giving you no time to argue, he wraps his hands behind your knees and raises your hips, fucking into you faster. The filthy echo of sweat slick skin accompanies his breathless order. “Touch yourself. Let me watch.”

A frantic agreement and one hand slips between your legs, the other cupping your breast. Frantic circles over the swollen bud, trembling fingers plucking at a pebbled nipple. Bucky watches greedily, eyes flickering back and forth, memorizing those things that bring you pleasure, fantastically dirty memories to replay on a rainy day.

“Bucky,” desperate fingers rub your clit faster. “Keep going, please keep - keep doing that, I’m close, I’m so close, I’m -“

Sharp and sweet and unexpected, the orgasm crashes into you. Arching up, the low moan tears free, and Bucky slows, hypnotized by the sight of you shuddering beneath him.

“There you go, that’s it,” he urges hoarsely, before surging forward and capturing your lips in a wild kiss. Two more pumps of his hips and he stops, grinding against you until he comes with a heavy groan.

Silence fills the room, broken only with the sounds of harsh breaths and the wet rush of his heartbeat thumping in his ears. He rests his forehead between your breasts, listening to the staccato beat of your quick breaths, until you struggle up onto your elbows, pushing his sweaty hair away from his face.

“So I broke your car.”

He says nothing, but a moment later his shoulders begin to shake and suddenly he’s laughing, great rushing wheezes as he struggles for breath. Raising his head, he finds you nervously squinting down at him. He stretches up, presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I got insurance. Just need to check my coverage for mildly destructive ‘I missed you’ sex.”

“You might consider expanding that policy. I’m just saying,” you suggest with a giggle and he snorts.

Quiet contentment blankets the stuffy garage, both of you basking in that tingly afterglow. Folding your hands behind his neck, you draw him close and Bucky nuzzles into the crook of your neck.

“Been tough lately,” he whispers, mouthing gently along your throat. “Trying to find time together.”

Nodding slowly, your smile turns wistful.

“Yeah…guess it makes any time we get even better. Right? It doesn’t matter to me what we do, as long as we’re doing it together.”

Bucky feels a lump in his throat (the kind that could easily dissolve into manly super soldier tears), and he gathers you in his arms, tucking you against his chest. When he answers, his voice cracks just a bit.

“Someone’s a sentimental sap.”

He hears your muffled laugh against his chest, feels you bite at his collarbone and he chuckles.

“I love you Bucky. And I’m really sorry I murdered your car.”

“I love you too, babe. I’m glad you came down here. Especially in that outfit.”

“Yeah? You liked it?”

“Fuck yes I did. What spurred that idea, hmm?”

“I just don’t want to lose our spark,” you admit, snuggling closer. “When things get so busy, it’s easy to let things like this slide, and I don’t want you to - get bored, I guess. With us.”

Bucky thinks about all his relationship advice articles and the fact that he sometimes even prints them out and goes through with a yellow highlighter to capture the key points. Hearing your soft concern makes him fall even more in love with you.

Because this is important. This relationship, this love, this spark he was lucky enough to find with you, it’s the most important thing in his world. You are the most important thing in his world.

Brushing a knuckle down your cheek, he coaxes your chin up.

“I know it’s tough, always being on different schedules, but I want you to know, I’m always gonna love you and I’m always gonna want you. Nothing changes that. And if you ever doubt just how much I genuinely want to bang you all night long, then you say something. Deal?”

He boops your nose and you grin.

“Deal.”

“And honey, not that I’m complaining, trust me, but you don’t need to dress sexy to get me all reved up,” he shrugs. “You do that just by looking at me.”

“You do know how to charm the pants off a lady, Barnes.”

He throws his head back and laughs. Swings you up in his arms and calms your startled yelp with a kiss.

“Damn straight. Now how about we give that backseat a try. I think you mentioned wanting to rub something back there?”

*****

[shadow-assassin-blix]

A Picture is A Poem Without Words

CHAPTER 12

A/N: Angst. A certain event happens. I’m sorry. Canon typical violence. 

Everything tag: @mikeisthricedeceased

Pacho tag: @yungkvte​ @mcrmarvelloki​​

A couple of days had passed since Escobar grand escape from his prison, and it was all hands-on deck in trying to recapture him.

Carrillo was due to arrive in a few minutes, and Blix stood outside the Medellin airport with a vehicle to pick him up. She smiled brightly as she spotted him when he stepped outside of the airport. He walked over to her, setting his bags down as he reached her, and drawing her into a hug. She hugged him back tightly.

“Hey stranger. It’s good to see you,” She greeted him, after pulling away.

“It’s good to see you, too. Let’s go to work yeah,” He said, picking his bags back up and tossing them into the back.

Blix drove him to the HQ in Medellin where he was to check in with the ambassador before gathering his Search Bloc team. The two of them talked about what had happened since he left. Horacio telling her that the kids were excited to see their favorite godmother and had a large collection of artwork to give her. She smiled and shook her head at that.  

Far too soon, they were pulling into the garage of HQ. She left him to gather them and do whatever he had planned to do.  

Blix made her way to her offices, to go over files and finish up reports. It took a few hours for her to do, as her team was being used for various tasks to hunt down Escobar.

Theo occasionally jumped into the office to help out where he could in between breaks. It was late by the time she had finished the paperwork that had piled up.

Javier had appeared in the doorway of her office at some point, and asked, “You crashing with me tonight?”

Blix looked up at him, checking the time briefly.

“Maybe. Would that bother you? I have to get back to Cali in the morning to file a good portion of this paperwork, so, I’d be out of your hair before you wake up,” She stated as she grabbed the pile that was specifically for Cali and slipped the documents into her bag.

“You are never a bother to me. Come on, I have to meet Carrillo later on for a mission. I might be late in returning anyway,” Javier informed her as he held the door open for her.

She nodded as they made their way downstairs to his truck. The two of them grabbed some pizza to chow down on when they got back to his place.

An hour after they had finished eating Javier left, and Blix fell asleep on his bed, an alarm set.

Several hours later, she heard Javier returning as she was getting ready to leave. She stepped out into the living room to see him sitting on the floor staring off into the distance. She walked over to him, squatting down, her hand on his shoulder. She had never seen him like this.

“Javi? Javi what happened?” She asked him concerned.

Javier quietly told her what had happened; about what Horacio did. She sighed heavily, trying to think of what to say but nothing came to mind. So, she simply sat with him, until he told her to go.

She kissed his cheek, telling him she’ll call him later to check on him, before gathering her stuff and walking out. She hailed a taxi to take her to the airport and was back in Cali before 10am.

She walked to the FBI office since it wasn’t far, and dropped off the paperwork, filing it away.

She checked her messages and made a few calls that needed to be returned. Work had slowed down since they captured König but there was still work to be had. Minor art thieves and forgeries that were still trickling through into Colombia that needed to be stopped.

After checking through her messages, she made her way back out, and spotted a luxury car waiting outside. She walked up to it, noticing Maurice driving, and the window rolled down to reveal Miguel.

She got inside the car, greeting Miguel as she did so.

“Hello Blix. Pacho is working at the bank today, figured I would simply deliver you to him. We hear that the Colonel has returned,” Miguel said looking up from his large binder, making notes here and there.

“Yes. He has indeed returned. Didn’t get to catch up much but I’m sure we will eventually,” Blix said with a smile.

They arrived a few minutes later, and he escorted her to Pacho who was on a phone call, tapping his pen somewhat annoyed.

Blix waved at Miguel as she stepped into the office, closing the door behind her.

Pacho smiled as she walked over to him, leaning against his desk.

He put his hand over the mouthpiece and mouthed quietly, “This should only take another minute.”

She nodded, looking down at the paperwork he had in front of him. She grabbed a sticky note as she read through the pages.

She wrote down, ‘These numbers are off’

Pacho nodded softly, whispering, “I know.”

He quickly ended the call a moment later.

“It’s a partner who wants to renegotiate his deal with the brothers, but his proposal is full of errors. Apparently, he thinks we are stupid and wouldn’t read through it. He was just now trying to explain that it was simply a typo,” Pacho said with an eyeroll.

“A typo that happens… 13 times? Uh huh. Sure. Simply a typo,” Blix replied staring at the pages more closely.

“I just need to finish up some things and then we can go get lunch,” Pacho told her as he dialed another number.

She sat on his desk, watching him work. She could see him tensing up as he listened to whoever, and she slowly reached over to touch his clenched fist. Her hand gently wrapped around it, her thumb running across his knuckles soothingly, trying to get him to relax it. After a moment, his fingers uncurled, and she held his hand as he spoke.

The phone call ended abruptly, and he sighed heavily as he hung up the phone. His next two calls went faster and soon enough he was gathering his things so the two of them could leave.

He took her to a nice café nearby, and they ordered soups and sandwiches to eat. They talked about her work for a time before heading home.

Nothing seemed out of ordinary for the next two days.

It was late at night when she heard her phone going off, waking her up. She blindly reached for her phone, sitting up.

She answered it tiredly, “Javi it’s 3am. Wha-”

“Carrillo is dead,” Javier cuts her off.

“What? What did you… No. No he… What?” She was struggling to comprehend what he just said.

“Escobar. He set a trap. I…” Javier stopped as Steve’s voice could be heard in the background.

“I.. We have to go. I wanted you to hear it from me and not on the news,” Javier said as he hung up.

Blix felt numb as her hand dropped to her lap. She stood up from the bed and got dressed not really registering anything.

She was at her old place, having spent the night there to close up some case files she had. Her hands were shaking terribly as tears built up in her eyes. She somehow got dressed and was on a flight to Medellin before she knew it.

She didn’t know how or what to feel. She stared numbly at everything around her and tried her best to maintain her composure.

The words echoing in her head, ‘Carrillo’s dead.’

When she landed, Theo was there to take her to HQ where Julianna was there with the kids. Blix ignored everyone around her, making her way to Julianna and hugging her tightly. Sobs racked through Julianna as she returned the embrace. The kids were with Connie in one of the smaller meeting rooms.

The next few hours were a blur, a symphony of sad faces and “I’m sorry’s.” None of it registered as she helped Julianna with the kids.

Javier refused to look her in the eye; Steve and Connie helped as much as they could for the rest of the week up until Horacio’s funeral.

The funeral itself was a haze, up until the cemetery where it began to rain. She sat there, long after most of the other guests had left. She was holding some small items. A photo and a small necklace.

The necklace was simply a worry stone, a joke gift he had gotten for her. “You do enough worrying for the both of us.”

The photo was of the two of them; it was on her birthday. He had somehow figured it out and insisted they go get drinks to celebrate. A fellow patron kindly took the photo of the two of them drinking, a cupcake with a lone candle lit on it. It was the first birthday in several years that she had celebrated.

She quietly placed both items on his coffin and walked away. Javier had stayed to drive her to his place to clean up.

When they had pulled into the garage of the apartment complex she finally spoke, “We are sure it was just Escobar yeah? The Cali… the Cali cartel wasn’t involved right?”

“I don’t know honey. It was Escobar and his men but… whether or not the Cali was involved we just don’t know,” Javier spoke truthfully.

She nodded once, clearing her throat, as the two of them stepped out of his truck. When they got upstairs, she immediately began to change into dry clothes, not caring that she was stripping right in front of Javier. Javier quietly handed her a towel to help dry off, his eyes remaining respectfully on her face.

She changed and used the towel to try and dry her hair. She wasn’t really in the mood to shower nor was she hungry. She just wanted to sit alone for a while.

Javier gave her space and simply cleaned himself up. She had thrown her clothes into trash not wanting to ever see them again; an action that caused Javier to raise his eyebrow at, but he made no comment.

Javier changed and sat next to her on the couch for a few minutes, not saying anything. Blix stared blankly at the wall, vaguely aware of Javier next to her, and the TV coming on. She couldn’t sleep; didn’t want to be honest. Javier eventually got up, picking her up as he did so and taking her into his bedroom to lay down.

Javier fell asleep a few minutes after laying down and she simply stared at the ceiling. Memories of her and Horacio were wreaking havoc on her mind, rushing through her brain at 100mph.

When morning finally came, she forced herself to shower. She got dressed in fresh clothes, before making her way outside to go to the airport and return to Cali.

She had tried to call Pacho a few times while she was in Medellin; needed to hear his voice, some sort of comfort, and yet no response. Her mind was cruel, and many hurtful thoughts raced through her mind. She found it odd, that he hadn’t called her back, and with how she was feeling she was thinking the worst. She got a cab to the bank, her hurt twisting and brewing into rage.

She walked upstairs, moving toward Gilberto’s office ignoring the secretary who tried to stop her. She opened the door to find Gilberto, Miguel, and Pacho standing there, eyebrows raised at her abrupt entrance. The secretary was tugging at her arm, but one icy glare from Blix and she backed off slowly. She shut the door as she made a swift exit.

Blix moved to stand before the 3 of them, her arms crossed.

“Did you know?” She calmly asked, her fury brewing quietly.

“Know what my dear? You are going to have to be more specific,” Gilberto replied staring at her questioningly.

“Do not. Play coy. You know what I am referring to. Did. You. Know?” She was seconds away from losing it.

“Honestly, Miss Lage, we do not know what-” Miguel was cut off by her grabbing the decanter of whiskey that sat on Gilberto’s desk and hurling it at the wall behind them.

“HORACIO. DID YOU KNOW ABOUT ESCOBAR’S PLAN!?” She screamed at them.

Pacho swiftly straightened up and began to pull her away from the brothers, but she wasn’t going to play nicely. Not about this.

She shoved his arms away from her, elbowing him harshly in the stomach when he tried to grab her again. She was vaguely aware of the wince he made at her hit but found she couldn’t care at the moment.

“Stop touching me! I want answers! Did you know!? Did you know they were going to murder him?” She questioned all 3 of them, breathing harshly.

Pacho reached for her again, pinning her arms down by holding her to him tightly. She struggled trying to hit or push him away. He wouldn’t budge, in fact, he wasn’t saying anything. When all the fight eventually drained out of her, she no longer could hold it together. Her harsh pants turned into sobs.

She collapsed into his arms, crying. Pacho embrace softened, no longer needing to restrain her fury. He quietly shushed her, running his hand through her hair, trying to comfort her.

She felt him lightly pull direct her over to the couch, sitting her down upon it. She cried into her hands not wanting anyone to see her.

Pacho offered a box of tissues that was sitting on the end table. She took a couple drying her face and eyes as best as she could. She knew her face was bright red, and she looked horrible, but she didn’t care too much.

As her tears became soft sniffles, she heard Pacho speak.

“No. We didn’t know about Escobar’s plan. We have been dealing with Escobar targeting our men and some of our legit businesses for the past week. I know… that this doesn’t sound very believable especially when I haven’t been able to return your calls. But, hey,” Pacho tilted her chin up so she can look him in the eye. “I swear on my mother’s grave, that we had nothing to do with the Colonel’s death.”

Blix examined him for a moment before nodding very slightly. She quietly threw away the tissues piled in her lap in the trash can that was nearby. She cleared her throat, standing up and walking out of the office. She spotted a women’s restroom and stepped inside, standing in front of the sinks.

She turned the faucet on, making sure it was cold, before splashing her face a few times. The water felt nice against her heated skin. She dried her face off with some paper towels and took a few deep breaths.

When she felt calmer, she winced as she thought back to her behaviors in the office. She couldn’t face them again after that. Blix decided she was just going to leave and hide away in her shame.

She slipped out into the hallway, and made her way downstairs, hailing another cab as she got outside. She had him take her to her place, where she promptly collapsed onto her couch. She grabbed the throw blanket she kept on it, curling up underneath it. She turned the TV on, turning it to a random movie channel, and letting it become background noise.

She fiddled with the edge of the blanket, twisting it to and fro. She heard her phone go off from her bag that she dropped in archway to the living room. She ignored it.

She doesn’t know how or when, but she finally fell asleep.

It was still day when she woke up to the sounds of someone knocking on her door. She yawned as she slowly stood up and made her way to the door, rubbing the sleep and dried tears from her eyes.

She opened the door, staring at the stranger confused, “Can I help you?”

The man smiled viciously, as he pulled out a gun from behind his back and fired at her twice. She fell down grasping at the growing red spots on her chest, her eyes gazing down at her chest. She swallowed hard, turning her head toward her small table near the entryway. She spotted the shotgun she had hidden below it, lunging for it when the man turned around to boast.

She grabbed it, cocking it quickly, before firing it at the man’s back. He fell quickly to the ground dead, as she kicked her door shut to grab more ammo.

She reloaded, crawling backwards to the stairs, shoving the box of bullets over to them. She heard a set of footsteps rush up the stairs outside her home. She grunted as the pain of her wounds began to become more pronounced. She aimed at her door, and fired at it, twice. The first round blew a whole into the door, and the second went into the man standing there.

Her eyes were becoming blurry with pain as she tried to reload, somewhat blindly but she couldn’t as she heard several gunshots. She ducked down, covering her head, expecting bullets to whizz past her. That was not the case. When the firing stopped, she heard a familiar voice. Salcedo.

He opened the now useless door, Navegante behind him. The two of them were quick to grab her and were discussing which hospital to take her to.

She grabbed Salcedo’s arm and grunted, “No. Hospital. Too…many… questions.”

The two of them looked at each other concerned and simply picked her up, taking her to a car. Some phone calls were made as they sped off toward Pacho’s home. Salcedo sat in the back with her, trying to apply pressure to her wounds to slow the bleeding.

When they arrived at his place, and took her inside, they laid her on the coffee table as a doctor stepped forward. She blinked harshly trying to stay awake as Pacho’s face appeared before her.

The doctor was speaking but she couldn’t really focus on the words.

“Her shoulder is not my concern; the bullet went through. The one in her chest, however, must be taken out before it causes anymore damage,” He spoke to Pacho. “I need you and your men to hold her down, so she doesn’t fight me.”

Pacho nodded motioning for a few of his men to come over and hold her legs down.

He turned his attention to Blix, and cupped her face, making her look at him.

“Honey, I need you to focus on me for a minute,” He said firmly waiting for her to weakly nod. “This is going to hurt.”

Pacho placed his hand down on her chest, above her wound, as her hands firmly gripped the sides of the table.

The doctor grabbed a pair of forceps and began to dig into her wound. The pain caused her to scream out and she was trying to jerk away. Between him and four of his men they struggled to hold her down properly. She nearly threw them all off.

The doctor somehow pulled out the bullet that was lodged inside her, and jerks settled eventually. She panted for a few moments before finally passing out.

The doctor quickly stitched her up, giving her an antibiotic and some pain medicine via some shots. He left instructions with Pacho on how to care for the wounds and administer her pain meds. He nodded listening somewhat. Diego paid more attention to the instructions than he did and wrote everything down.

Pacho gently lifted her and carried her upstairs. He gently cleaned her up in his bedroom, before carefully changing her into one of his shirts and tucking her under the covers.

Blix woke up several times, but soon passed out a minute later for the next two days. When she finally woke up and was able to stay awake it was in the early hours of the morning. She gingerly looked around finding Pacho lying next to her.

She reached over and ran her hand over his cheek, enjoying the feel of his scruff on her fingers. Pacho took in a breath as he slowly woke up.

He opened his eyes, his hand reaching up to take her hand into his. He pressed a kiss to it as he turned his gaze to her face.

“How are you feeling my love?” He quietly asked her.

“Sore. I hate getting shot,” She answered her voice raspy.

“I am sorry this happened to you. Escobar will pay for this,” Pacho declared pressing kisses to her forehead and cheek.

She tiredly nodded, yawning with a wince as the actions pulled at her stitches.

“What’s the damage?” She asked as she tried to regain her breath, suddenly breathless.

“The bullet in your shoulder tore through old scar tissue. The one in your chest, barely missed your heart. It did more damage to your ribs than anything,” Pacho informed her as he propped up onto his elbow.

“Small mercies I guess,” She muttered as she tried to adjust herself.

Pacho reached over and helped her sit up slightly, adjusting her pillows to help.

She sighed as she settled against the pillows.

“What are the chances of me getting to shower?” Blix asked as she tugged at her limp hair, grossed out.

“We can arrange a bath for you. No standing for long periods for you,” Pacho told her as he got up from the bed.

Pacho made his way into his bathroom, and started the bath, waiting for it to get half-filled before turning the water off. He grabbed her some soft, loose fitting clothing, setting them on the counter.

Once everything was ready, he picked her up from the bed and took her into the bathroom. He helped her take off her clothes, before helping her into the tub.

“I’m not completely helpless honey. I can undress myself and get into a tub,” She lightly complained as she settled into the water.

“Mmhmm. Let me take care of you. So, just deal and appreciate the pampering,” Pacho replied as he grabbed the shower head attachment to begin washing her hair.

She quieted down and just let him do whatever he wanted. He took care of her diligently and thoroughly. When he had finished, she reached up kissed his cheek softly, murmuring a thank you to him.

He sat with her until she was ready to get out. She tried pushing herself out of the tub like normal but stopped with a pained gasp as she felt the stitches tug sharply. She sat back down; eyes closed as she tried to breathe through the pain.

When the pain had subsided, and she opened her eyes, she sees Pacho staring at her with mild amusement.

“Learn your lesson, my shark?” Pacho asked gently teasing her.

She gave a halfhearted glare, before waiting for him to help her out.

Once she was on her feet, a fluffy towel wrapped around her, she gently made her way to the counter. Her movements were slow and somewhat methodical as she brushed her teeth and then her hair. She pulled her hair into a low ponytail and with Pacho’s help got dressed.

He led her back to the bed, and after getting dressed himself, walked out. He came back a few minutes later with breakfast in hand.

He placed the plate onto her lap, and the cup of hot tea he had on the end table, pulling out a fork and napkin from his pockets.

She quietly ate the eggs and bacon that was presented to her, taking the meds that Pacho also handed her.

“I have work to attend to. You, my dearest, are not to move from this bed. I will have Diego and others come check on you until I am done. No fighting with them. No trickery either. You are on strict bed rest orders. I will tie you down if I must,” He warned her.

“Promise?” She flirted with a smile.

He crinkled his nose at her, trying to not smile but failing.

“Hm? You want to be tied up by me? Interesting. We shall explore that… when you are healed,” Pacho teased kissing her on the lips.

She kissed him back, sighing softly as he pulled away and strode out carrying the empty plate away.

Blix drank her tea, yawning as the pain meds took effect. She set the tea down, and settled down into the covers, and slowly doze off.

She woke up occasionally when she heard someone walk in and chatted with them briefly. It was late in the afternoon when she had grown bored of sleeping and was wanting to move around.

She tried to sit up by herself wanting to stretch a bit when Pacho walked in. He raised an eyebrow at her as she froze, not expecting him to appear.

Pacho walked over to her and simply picked her up.

“Am I not heavy? You really don’t have to carry me everywhere,” She said worried he was going to hurt himself picking her up so much.

“No, you are not heavy. I quite enjoy carrying you around to be honest,” He stated as he took her downstairs to the living room.

He placed her on the couch, and as he pulled away, she noticed that Gilberto, Miguel, and Chepe were sitting there as well. Pacho sat next to her, his hand resting on her thigh.

“Tell me something sweetheart… are you sure you are not part cat?” Chepe joked as he kissed her cheek.

“Survived a bombing and being shot at point blank range. Chepe may be onto something there,” Gilberto joined in.

She smiled weakly at their jokes, sighing heavily.

“Gilberto. Miguel. I’m… I’m sorry about the other day. I was wrong to lash out at you two over…” She couldn’t quite bring herself to say it aloud.

Gilberto and Miguel waved it off.

“You were distraught. Honestly, you had every right to believe that we may have possibly been involved. It was quite convenient that Escobar was able to lay that trap so easily for the Colonel and his men. I would have suspected us too, if I were in your position,” Gilberto said in a sympathetic tone.

She nodded briefly, grateful that he wasn’t upset over her actions.

It was at that point, the brothers turned to business, discussing how to best take down Escobar’s empire.

“Attack his production factories. Hit him where it hurts. His money,” Blix answered her voice emotionless.

Pacho smirked at her response, “How do you propose we do that, honey?”

“His men are spending most of their time protecting him and the family, not the blow. Or anything else. Go after his partners, turn those who are easily swayed by more money and kill the ones who ain’t. Isn’t that the point of cocaine, make more money no matter what?” Blix replied looking at him.

Pacho chuckled darkly at that and the others were smirking.

“Chepe… you’re friends with…. The Castellano brothers are you not?” Blix turned her attention to him.

“How do you know about them?” Chepe asked staring at her with squinting eyes.

“I know quite a few things. Get them involved. I’m sure they’ll enjoy some gratuitous violence in the name of hurting Escobar’s empire. Though I’m sure Mrs. Moncada has contacted them already as well. Let them go off on a rampage, they’ll do the more… public damage to his name,” Blix implied.

“While we slip in the back and take over his production lines and starve him of money,” Pacho finished.

“Indeed. As much as I would like to eviscerate him with a dull knife unfortunately he is still too well protected….however…” She trailed off as a thought came to her.

“Yes? What is it?” Miguel questioned staring at her curiously.

“Escobar’s number one weakness has always been his family… knowing him… he will try and get them out of Colombia…” She stated somewhat vaguely.

“Yes. And? What of it?” Chepe inquired confused.

“In chess, the goal is to capture the king… but the queen has the most power in her movements… Escobar will try and scurry her away to another country most likely one without extradition laws unless… the DEA makes sure that doesn’t happen. Keep his family here, and he’ll remain vulnerable, reckless,” She further explained her foot tapping the coffee table, to point out the chess set that was resting upon it.

“As an FBI agent… I could theoretically hint to DEA that this is a possibility and make sure they keep an eye on the airports, and go from there,” Blix said casually scratching at her shoulder lightly.

The stiches were beginning to itch slightly, and it was annoying.

“Keep his number one weakness here and in constant danger,” Gilberto concluded. “You are a scary woman when scorned Miss Lage.”

She simply shrugged, “Don’t kill the people I love, and you won’t ever have to face said wrath.”

“Duly noted,” Chepe said with a smile.

The guys talked further, and as much as she hated it, she was growing tired again. She slowly leaned against Pacho, yawning softly. Pacho moved his arm to wrap around her shoulders. She could hear his heartbeat as her eyes drifted closed, and she passed out.

Pacho looked down as he heard her breathing even out.

“Did she really kill two of Escobar’s men with a double barrel shotgun?” Chepe asked glancing at her.

“Yes. According to Salcedo, she had already been shot by that point but was still able to grab it to take them out. Navegante and them, when they went to clear out her apartment and move everything here, they found many weapons hidden throughout. Knives and guns,” Pacho informed him as he gently adjusted her to lay across his lap.

“I would ask if she was paranoid but… given her job, guess it makes sense for her to need to be prepared,” Miguel chimed in.

“Hm. Yes. She even used to sleep with a gun under her pillow. That was an… interesting find to say the least,” Pacho remarked.

“Used to?” Chepe questioned.

“She stopped sometime after getting involved with me. Decided that uhh. Sleeping with a leader of a cartel has its own protections. No need to sleep with it,” He explained as he tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.

Chepe nodded, humming in agreement.

Gilberto quietly asked, “What’s the deal with her and the colonel?”

“He treated her like family. She wasn’t thrilled to come here, and he made it more bearable. He was like a brother to her, that’s why she was devastated when he was murdered. Knowing her, she didn’t want to suspect us, but she had no way of truly knowing,” Pacho stated gently brushing his finger along her cheek.

“Ahh. Yes. How fortunate for Escobar at the time… but now he has a woman who is willing to burn down Colombia to avenge his death. I would keep an eye on her, Pacho. Make sure she doesn’t become a liability,” Miguel lightly warned.

Pacho nodded in understanding, even though in his mind he was thinking about the potential she had. She had great potential to be a fierce and loyal member to the Cali, and possibly could help run it one day. He had been thinking this for some time, but this week has cemented the idea in his head.

‘She’ll be a lovely Lady of Cali. I’m sure of it.’ He thought to himself, with a faint smile as he looked down at her.

Diego walked in at that point, holding a plate of street tacos. He came over to Pacho and Blix, lowering the plate near Blix’s face. A moment passed, and she slowly woke up, sniffing the air.

“What’s happening? What is… Oh!” She was confused before everything registered.

She sat up, blinking rapidly, before she looked toward Diego and the plate he held.

She quietly reached for the plate, as she realized what was happening.

“For me?” She asked him and at his nod tells him, “I love you.”

Diego laughed as he placed the plate in her lap, handing her some napkins and setting a glass of sweet tea on the table in front of her.

“Love you too. You also won me like $50 because the others didn’t think food would wake you,” Diego said with a grin.

“Happy to help… I think,” She said as she took a bite.

She quietly ate, as everyone resumed conversations. Salcedo came in, handing her some antibiotics.

“It’s good to see you up and about, Blix. Had everyone worried for a while there,” Salcedo told her with a rare smile.

She took it with a sigh and smiled back in response.

“Thank you for rescuing me. If it weren’t for you and Navegante I probably wouldn’t be here. Actually...” She stopped as she thought about it. “Why were the two of you there?”

Pacho answered her, “I tried to call you several times, but when you didn’t answer, I grew worried. I had them come check on you. Glad I did. Didn’t think Escobar would be so bold as to attack you.”

She mouthed a silent ‘Oh.’

“I was sleeping. Did I hear you say that you had my stuff moved out?” She asked as she realized something had filtered into her mind while she rested.

“Yes. Everything is in your room currently. Your files are in your library awaiting you,” He informed her with a nod.

She nodded in response and continued eating.

Once she was full, she resumed her original position, laying her head on Pacho’s lap, but turned to lie on her back. She tossed her feet across Chepe’s lap, hesitantly.

He patted her legs, silently letting her know she could rest them there.

“Comfy?” Pacho asked her teasingly.

“A little. Could be better,” She replied joking.

“Oh? How can I make your rest more relaxing?” Pacho inquired with a smile.

She hummed softly, motioning for him to come closer.

He does and she whispered softly into his ear.

He pulled away with a shake of his head.

“When your stitches are out, we can explore that all you want,” He murmured quietly.

Chepe looked at the two of them with a raised eyebrow.

“Hmm. Look at these two lovebirds. Almost sickening how sweet they are being, isn’t it?” Chepe asked the brothers.

The brothers laughed in response.

Blix and Pacho smiled at each other, ignoring their teasing.

Blix wanting to do something other than sit or lay down, carefully stood up from the couch. She gently stretched, feeling sore and stiff. Pacho watched her carefully, preparing to help her if need be.

She walked around briefly, trying to relieve tension. It worked for a time before she felt out of breath.

She had to lean against the couch as exhaustion began to creep in. Pacho got up at that point and walked with her upstairs, to his bedroom.

By the time, they reached his bedroom, she was breathing hard and sweating.

“I take it back. I’d rather you carry me,” She declared as she collapsed onto the bed.

“Can do. Let’s get you some pain meds, and get you comfortable,” He said to her as he does just that.

He situated her on the bed and handed her some pills. She quietly took them and tugged on his hand to sit with her.

He does so, brushing her hair out of her face.

“When you’re feeling better, I definitely plan on exploring that tying you up idea,” He flirted as he gazed at her.

“Hm. I should hope so… and that other idea?” She inquired softly.

“Yes. We will make plans to hurt Escobar the way he has you. I know you are in pain in more ways than one. I will do whatever I can to help,” He promised her, leaning down to kiss her softly.

He pulled away slightly, staring into her eyes.

“You will have your vengeance. I’ll make sure of it,” He swore, kissing her once more.

She kissed back, her hands moving to bury themselves in his hair. He deepened the kiss, for a moment, before pulling away.

“Can’t get too frisky. You’re still healing. I don’t want to risk hurting you,” Pacho whispered.

“But we can have a little fun?” She proposed tugging on his shirt.

He chuckled at her, and countered, “How about this? You have 2 more days of antibiotics. You get through them, then I will spend the day buried between your legs.”

“Hmm. I suppose that’s acceptable,” She agreed to his offer.

“Now, rest. I will be back up in a little bit. I have someone stationed near the door just in case you need help,” He informed her as he stood up.

“Stationed to help me or guard me?” She questioned with an eyebrow raised.

“I’ll never tell. Sleep,” Pacho requested as he walked out.

Blix stared at the ceiling for a time. She noticed her phone was sitting next on the end table. She grabbed it and called Javier. She needed to talk to someone about Horacio; someone who knew him like she did.

“Hey,” She greeted softly when the line connected.

“Hi. How are you? No one’s heard from you in a few days,” Javier commented.

“Yeah… had to… work through some stuff. How are you… with everything? I know you and Horacio butted heads often, but you still knew each other for a long time,” She wondered.

“Yeah. Stubborn bastard. He was… he was a good man. Didn’t deserve to go out like that,” He sighed loudly. “I’m sorry. I know you two were close. You ever get bored in Cali; you can always come stay with me you know?”

“Thanks. It doesn’t… seem real still. Keep waiting for him to calm me out of nowhere and ask me if I am eating properly,” She joked. “Or tell me that I am crazy but encourage my shenanigans anyway.”

She heard him chuckle a moment.

“Shenanigans? You mean you terrorizing the compound by blasting Queen albums at random hours of the day?” Javier exclaimed.

“It was not terrorism; it was psychological warfare. The guys shouldn’t have made that bet,” Blix disputed.

“It was a pretty stupid bet, I will admit,” Javier agreed.

A few soldiers had made bets that they could try and get into her pants by the end of the month. She found out about it, and anytime one of them walked into her office and it wasn’t for business, she would just blast her mixtapes until they left.

“If only they knew that you and I were already together,” Javier tossed out with a snort.

Blix made a noise of agreement before taking a breath.

“Hey… so. I had a thought. Escobar is a loose cannon. But his number one priority has always been his family. I would bet good money, that when the chips are down, he’ll try to move them out of the country. I’d keep an eye on the airports,” She explained as she fiddled with a loose string on the blanket.

“Yeah. We had similar thoughts. We actually have some of your team watching the airports for his men or his family. Hope you don’t mind,” He mentioned.

“Nah. They’re getting bored with the small-time thieves anyway. Give them some excitement,” Blix waved it off, not bothered.

“Yeah, they did seem pretty enthusiastic when we offered, which was odd. Stay safe out there yeah? You are kinda… alone. If anything happened to you, no one would be able to come rescue,” Javier noted with some concern.

Blix couldn’t help but think, ‘Too late.’

“Yeah. I’ll keep my head down for the most part. Talk to you later?” She said with a small sigh.

“Yeah. I’ll give you updates,” Javier told her as they hung up.

As she put the phone down, she settled further into the blankets, falling asleep slowly. She wasn’t sure what the future held; she knew one thing: Escobar would pay for his crimes.

[flowerpowell]

The Dream Life of Ellie Wheeler (Colt x MC // Logan x MC)

PART THREE

A/N: .... I headcanon (fancanon?) that Colt and Ellie live in the same house as they did in The Boy Next Door (except we only have one bedroom here 😉). Sorry for the wait but I hope it’ll be worth it. Let me know what you think about this series because I’m still unsure 🙊 

Rating: G 

Tagging: @delightfullypinkglitter, @mskaneko, @desiree-pow, @lovehugsandcandy, @badchoicesposts​, @kingliam2019​, @client-327​, @walkerduchess​, @sophxwithers​ ❣

“I go on too many dates But I can't make 'em stay At least that's what people say, mm, mm That's what people say, mm, mm”

“My daddy commissary made it to commas Bitch, all my grandmas dead So ain't nobody prayin' for me, I'm on your head, ayy”

“Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake”

“If I gotta go hard on a bitch, I'ma make it look sexy I pull up, hop out, air out, made it look sexy They won't take me out my element Nah, take me out my element”

“Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake I shake it off, I shake it—"

“Hey!” Ellie exclaimed when Colt turned off the radio. “I was listening to something, you know!”

“I was listening to something as well,” he replied, his eyes glued to the road ahead of them. “But since you kept changing my song back to that pop shit, I’d rather drive in silence.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. They were on the road for many hours now and apart from the time she took to take a nap, they had been arguing about the music playing in the car majority of the time.

“Taylor Swift is not that bad, actually. I’m sure you’d enjoy—”

“Right now, all I want is to enjoy the silence.” Colt narrowed his eyes but still didn’t look at Ellie.

“Hey! I have that song somewhere on my phone! I can play it and—”

“Ellie! I’m driving! Can you keep your mouth shut for at least ten minutes?”

“Okay, okay. Sorry,” she quickly said and looked away. Not that there was much to look at but she didn’t want risk Colt changing his mind and driving her back to California. After all, he agreed to her plan and now they were driving to Oklahoma. Ellie really tried to be nice to him. Colt definitely didn’t even bother. Not that she expected anything else.

Her father also didn’t take it in very well. When she came home with marriage certificate in one hand, dragging Colt with the other one, detective Wheeler almost passed out from anger. And shock. But mostly anger.

She knew why.

Yes, he was angry that she got married without telling him but she married a Kaneko. And her father hated Teppei and devoted his life to find dirt on him. And now with Ellie being married to a Kaneko, Mr. Wheeler had to drop the case completely in the name of ‘no family affairs’ policy. Colt’s “hello Daddy” probably didn’t help either. In short, her father was so angry that Ellie was sure there was no higher level of angry.

Colt and Ellie left the same day and Ellie hadn’t spoken to her father since. Freedom tasted a bit sad but so good at the same time.

“Oh! McDonald’s! I’m so hungry, maybe we could—” Ellie pointed her finger at the restaurant as Colt picked up speed and they passed it in a blink of the eye. She looked at her husband and rolled her eyes. He couldn’t even bother to hide that awful smirk. Jerk.

“Your ten minutes of no talking isn’t over yet,” he noticed and Ellie sighed. This man was a nightmare.

Just a few more weeks. You’re doing it for Langston. Think of Langston. Think of—

“We have only six more hours. I think it’s pointless to stop anywhere to eat. You can make dinner when we’re home, wifey.” Colt finally looked at her and smiled smugly. Ellie wanted to punch him so bad but instead she only nodded and focused on the road.

Langston. Think of Langston.

~~~~

Colt didn’t intend to make it any easier for Ellie Wheeler. She blackmailed him, him, and now he was stuck with her. He couldn’t even leave the country as he wanted initially because her father would be capable of sending literal troops after him.

He still remembered Mr. Wheeler’s face when he realized Ellie married him. Teppei Kaneko’s son. For a short moment, Colt thought Mr. Wheeler would explode. Literally explode because Colt could count every single vein on his neck and face. At least he had to drop his father’s case. Colt was safe, as Ellie promised.

He looked at Ellie as she was stretching after the long ride. She was like a weed, he couldn’t get rid of her no matter what he tried to do.

“Here we are,” Colt said, taking his suitcases and leaving Ellie’s still in the car. “Take your stuff and you can start making dinner. I’m quite hungry.”

“You wouldn’t be if you’d stop at McDonald’s! Or literally anywhere else.”

“Why would I do it if my wife works in a coffee shop and is great at cooking?”

He heard her taking a deep breath and counting quietly to ten.

As he said. He had no intention of making it any easier for Ellie Wheeler.

~~~~

After dinner, for which Ellie ordered pizza since there was nothing edible in the house, Colt went upstairs to his bedroom, leaving Ellie alone downstairs. Her suitcases were still in the living room and she wondered where she was supposed to go. The house was pretty small; there was a spacious living room and a kitchen on the first floor and one bedroom and a bathroom on the second.

Ellie climbed up the stairs and hesitantly knocked on Colt’s bedroom door. At least two minutes passed before he opened the door.

“Yes?”

“Umm… Where can I sleep?” She asked hoping there was another bedroom which she hadn��t noticed before. She surely didn’t want to sleep with Colt in the same room. Considering what Colt thought about her, she was sure he felt the same.

“Definitely not here,” he replied.

“That I know.” Ellie took a deep breath. “But I need to sleep somewhere.”

Colt shrugged. “Not my problem. Should’ve thought about it before you made me marry you.”

“I’m sorry, okay! It’s only temporary, I’ll ask around and find a place in a dormitory and you’ll get rid of me.”

“You can sleep in the living room. Sofa’s comfortable.” And with that, Colt closed the door, ending their conversation.

Ellie went downstairs and put her blankets and pillows on the sofa, taking a mental note to buy some bedding. She took a quick shower, taking another mental note to buy a shower gel because the one she found smelled like Colt and she didn’t like it. Feeling a rush of anxiety, she ran to her improvisatorial bed. She closed her eyes, dreaming of her life here, hoping her mother would be proud.

~~~~

“See you’re already in a wife mode.”

“What?” Ellie stopped reading a book to look at Colt.

“Wearing baggy sweats and all. I think I’ve seen you in this Langston sweatshirt a million times and I’ve known you only for a few days,” Colt mocked her, not trying even for a split second to be nice to someone who blackmailed him.

“Well, it’s not like I have anyone to impress,” Ellie snapped back and Colt rolled his eyes. If he thought his job was difficult, he clearly never experienced being fake-married to someone like Ellie Wheeler. Although to be fair, he was probably more awful to her than she to him.

“Good,” he thought to himself. “She blackmailed me. She deserves it.”

And even though he hated her, he also understood her. She wasn’t the only one with a terrible father.

“Did Mona leave the country?” She suddenly asked.

“Hm? Why are you asking?”

“Just curious. You said it was your last job so I assumed…”

“Yeah, left. I would too if someone didn’t force me to put a ring on my finger.” He waved his left hand to prove a point. He wasn’t even sure why he was putting this stupid wedding band onto his finger every day. Ellie wasn’t wearing hers.

“As I said… I’m sorry. But at least my father dropped the case. And as far as I’m concerned no one else was involved in it but my father so… you’re in the clear.”

“Gee, thanks. How nice of you.”

“So it was you and Mona then? Only the two of you? Or is there someone else?”

Colt eyed her suspiciously. “Why are you asking?”

“Just curious,” she repeated. “When Teppei was still around I didn’t see anyone else. And then only you and Mona.” She was silent for a moment. “Colt?”

“Yea?”

“I’m really sorry about your father.”

Colt didn’t say anything for a while and Ellie assumed it was the end of their conversation. She went back to reading her book when he spoke.

“Just me, Mona and Pop.”

“Like three musketeers.” Ellie smiled.

“No. Like MPC.”

“MPC?”

“Geez, don’t you have classes to go to or something?” Colt rolled his eyes.

“Not in another two hours,” she replied. The classes technically hadn’t started yet but Ellie signed up for additional classes for freshman students.

“Mercy Park Crew. That’s us.”

“Hmm, I’ve seen MPC somewhere in my father’s files but I’m pretty sure he never realized it was you.”

“And hopefully he never will,” Colt added. Why was he telling her all of this?

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Was there anything in the files?” Colt asked. “About other car gangs?”

Ellie looked at him curiously. “No… Are there any other gangs?”

Colt was looking somewhere in the distance and it took him a moment to reply. “Yea. Our rivals. Forget it.”

“I could… do some research if you’d like—”

“Just go to your class, okay? Stop with this investigation,” he said and left the house, banging the door on his way out.

Ellie sat stunned for a few minutes before she finally decided she’d rather come too early to her class than stay in the house for another second.

~~~~

Freedom smelled like fall, felt like sun warming her face, tasted like cold air and looked like Oklahoma.

Ellie’s dream life was finally starting.

She felt tears forming in her eyes as she looked at her Langston University. Everything she went through, the arguments with her father, marrying Colt, bearing with Colt… it was all worth it.

Slowly, looking around as if not wanting to miss a single thing, she made her way through the campus. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Freedom filled her lungs. She was walking with her eyes closed, smile on her face. Everything was—

“Ooof!” She bumped into someone and would have fallen if the stranger didn’t catch her in time. Dream life or not, she still was clumsy.

“You know,” the stranger started, helping her stand up. “There are easier ways to get my attention.”

“I, uh… Thanks. I’m sorry about bumping into you. I won’t happen again, I promise.”

“It won’t? Too bad.”

“I… I’m sorry… I…” Ellie stammered as the handsome stranger smirked.

“First day?”

“Yes,” Ellie got her voice back. “I’m Ellie.”

“Nice to meet ya, Ellie. I’m Logan.”

[thotsforvillainrights]

hey, what's the league +stains ideal date?

~LOV/Stain’s ideal dates~

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up

-Spinner: Making a janky little blanket fort in the living room of your shared apartment together. He hangs up some fairy lights, and you situate the laptop underneath so it sits perfectly on all the pillows on the ground. Once the pizza is delivered, you two watch movies underneath fort and pig out together.

-Stain: The fact you even got him into a relationship is amazing (I feel like I always bring this up lol). Anyway, he’s not the most romantic man and you can tell. His ideal date is just sitting around with each other on the couch and watching TV. It’s not over the top, but quality time is his love language that he speaks

-Muscular: Gym dates. Nasty smelly and sweaty gym dates. He pushes you to your limit every time. Just when you’re sore and ready to go home, he tries to ambush you with shower sex. It works almost every time with this stupid asshole, but I suppose you can’t resist this man lol

-Moonfish: Dating and Moonfish in the same sentence? Now that’s amazing! Anyway, he’s not good at dates but he’s probably the type to try and cook for you as a romantic gesture. Eating dinner together is a big deal to him so he considers that a legit date.

-Twice: Nervous bean wants to take you to the movies and do the classic deli afterwards. Then one of those movie-moment walk in the park under the full moon before he leans in for a passionate kiss. Such a cliché but it works for you!

-Magne: She’s probably into more active dates. Parties, clubs, Amusement parks, Laser Tag, you name it. She’s super big on the amusement park date because she loves when you two can watch the fireworks together at the end, and munch on your cotton candy while holding hands tenderly. 

-Kurogiri: Gentleman takes you to a tea place where you two can read together and discuss your days as your drink a wide variety of tea (or coffee). It’s a bit mature, and maybe boring depending on how you feel. Nonetheless, he’s eager to have these dates with you because they hold a certain calm atmosphere of love

-Mustard: This boy absolutely enjoys any and all forms of either bumper cars, go-kart, or paintball. They’re kind of intense types of date so you have to bring your A-game and energy for these types of things. Now he may be a bit annoying, but he’s not a horrible person. If he sees you getting worn out then you two can stop for an ice cream snack and break.

-Compress: He’s totally the type to reserve a restaurant table for the two of you weeks ahead of the date as he saves up any and all money to take you to this expensive place. He’s laying on alllll of his goofy charm, flirting with you as if you two had just met or something. He definitely keeps the romance alive, so dates with her are never boring.

-Dabi: Asshole isn’t down for all the romantic stupid dates, but when you spend a lot of time with him you begin to grow on him. Suddenly his dates go from booty calls at 3 a.m to bringing you to a lake in the middle of the night to have a picnic under the full moon with candles lit and soft rock ballads or R&B playing

-Toga: She’s into the whole ‘going all over the mall’ into cute stores when it comes to dating. She’s the type to buy you guys matching bracelets/necklaces/shirts, etc. She’s going to drag you into the cutesy toy stores, and the candy stores as well. Then you two are going to have to take those photo’s in the booths before having Boba at the food court and taking a dozen selfies together 

-Shigaraki: Gaming with each other in a dimly lit room with a TON of snacks scattered about. This or watching IGN youtube videos together, cuddled up under the thick blankets of his bedroom. He purposefully turns the air as cold as possible to make sure you have a legit reason to get close to him under the covers. Catch him on the right day and he might surprise you with a few gropes here and there. You decide whether or not it goes in a different direction ;)

»—————————–———————————————————–✄

TIp Jar: https://cash.app/$YuTakeyama

[satorisa]

Falling: Chapter 3 - In Which the Boys Have the Best Sleepover Ever

Rating: T

Summary:  "I wanna forget all this burden in my past."

Alternate Reading: AO3

Because the best sleepovers involve watching Studio Ghibli movies, right?

With the May holidays coming up, Daisuke’s parents planned to go out of town to visit their college friends. Grandpa Daiki had left for Italy about a week earlier with a close friend to enjoy wood-fired pizzas, lemons the size of his face, and the beautiful, Sicilian breeze. And so, until Grandpa Daiki returned to Japan the Monday of the holiday week, it was unanimously decided that Daisuke would spend the weekend at the Saehara household.

“What’s the occasion?” Risa asked when she saw the duffel bag Daisuke had that Friday morning. “Running away from home?”

Daisuke nearly protested when Takeshi swooped in, wrapping his arm around Daisuke’s shoulder. “Nope! He’s sleeping over at my place for the weekend! Are ya—” Takeshi began to bounce his eyebrows. “—jealous?”

Risa laughed. “Jealous? Of not being invited to your ham fest? Puh-lease.”

Satoshi appeared on the other side of Daisuke and silently waved at Risa. She returned the gesture.

“Congrats on waking up early again, Hiwatari-kun. You’ve been on a roll lately.”

“Thank you.”

“So,” Risa asked with a grin, “what do you guys have planned for your super special sleepover?”

“I think we’re baking this evening,” Daisuke answered. “Then we’re marathoning Studio Ghibli films.”

“Absolute classics,” Takeshi interjected.

“Tomorrow, we’re taking Satoshi out to buy some clothes and…uh…spend the rest of the evening talking until we fall asleep.”

“For our brotherhood,” Takeshi interjected again.

“And then we’ll spend the rest of Sunday watching Studio Ghibli movies until we pass out.”

Risa blinked before she started laughing. “Actually, I take that back. I’m a little jealous I’m not invited.”

“You can’t sleep over, of course, but you’re free to join us!” Takeshi said, excitement dripping with each syllable.

She just smiled. “I’ll let you know if I can.”

…

Since Risa had lunch plans with Ritsuko that day, the boys decided to eat in Daisuke’s classroom. They needed to meet up before they headed home for the weekend to prepare themselves for Risa’s potential company.

“Boys,” Takeshi said as he sat down, “I shot my shot.”

“Congrats,” Daisuke said as he unwrapped his bread.

“Did you have to invite her over?” Satoshi grumbled, digging into the bento Takeshi packed for them that morning.

“Look, I get that you’ve got issues, but what’s the worst thing that could happen? Is she gonna try to get you alone to finagle information about Dark from you?”

Satoshi looked at Takeshi straight in the eye and knocked on the desk. Takeshi broke out in raucous laugher, and both Takeshi and Daisuke knocked on the desks they sat at in solidarity.

“I don’t think she’ll do that, though,” Daisuke reassured. “I think she was genuinely interested in what we’re actually doing.”

“I know,” Takeshi said with a smug smile. “She was hooked the moment you said we’re baking later.”

“Don’t tell me you tailored this weekend just for her,” Satoshi said.

“What little faith do you have in me?” Takeshi feigned offence. “I tailored this weekend just for you.”

Satoshi shrugged. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Takeshi shot him a quick glare before downing several large bites of his lunch. He chased it with water and, after a loud burp, he met both Daisuke’s and Satoshi’s gazes.

“Alrighty boys, let’s set some ground rules for this weekend if we so happen to find ourselves in Harada-imouto’s presence.” He raised a finger. “1) We do not joke about or discuss my crush on her around her. If she finds out, you are dead to me.” He raised another finger. “2) Satoshi is not to be left alone with her at all. For his safety. And, uh—” Takeshi put his hand down. “—that’s about it.”

“Um…I think I need to add one more rule,” Daisuke said.

“Aight. Add away.”

“3) Risa-chan cannot be left alone with me, either.”

Satoshi focused on his bento, picking at the eggs with his chopsticks. Takeshi leaned in, eyes glistening with curiosity.

“What secrets are you hiding from me, oh dear best friend?”

…

One of the underclassmen from the art club caught Satoshi on the way to the shoe lockers, so Takeshi went ahead while Satoshi talked to them. They quickly chatted about the en plein air social the club had planned during the holidays before going on their merry way with an enthusiastic farewell.

Those cute underclassmen of his were starting to grow on him.

After he switched his shoes out, he spotted Takeshi and Daisuke waiting by the entrance. He expected to leave with them to enjoy a fun evening with the boys when a familiar pink ribbon came into his field of vision.

“Hey, guys!” Risa greeted while Ritsuko, who trailed behind her, waved. “My parents said I could come over for some baked goods this evening! Mind if Ritsuko tags along?”

“The more, the merrier!” Takeshi said. “Welcome aboard the fun train, Fukuda!”

“I’m just here to steal your recipe for Valentine’s Day.”

He laughed, and the group was about to head out when Satoshi’s phone rang. He saw Inspector Saehara’s caller ID and picked up.

“Sorry to ruin yer plans and all, but somethin’ urgent just popped up that needs to be done ASAP.”

“Is it more urgent than baking?”

“I know you’re upset, Satoshi, but—”

“I’m telling Saehara-san that you called me in for work and ruined my youthful sleepover.”

“Satoshi, please don’t call—”

He hung up. The group looked at him in awe.

“Sorry, but something came up at the station. Have fun for me.”

…

Inspected Saehara locked the door to the office behind him. Satoshi glared at the older man, and he just guffawed.

“I’m really sorry, Satoshi.”

Fuming, he ignored Inspector Saehara’s apology and marched back home without him. When he arrived, Risa and Ritsuko were long gone. A half-eaten cake sat on the table, and Takeshi and Daisuke were playing a video game in the living room.

They looked away from the TV and, instead of greeting him, they started laughing at him for being a young professional. Satoshi’s eyebrows furrowed more as he ignored them, chucking his school bag at the sofa (narrowly missing Takeshi) before helping himself to some cake.

Plate in hand, Satoshi sat on the floor by Daisuke before having a bite. (Dark chocolate with ganache. Delectably moist, decadently rich and, most importantly, not too sweet.)

He watched them play while eating his cake, purposefully ignoring Inspector Saehara when he finally arrived with dinner. They all gathered in the living room, digging into the fried chicken as they began their movie marathon. They watched Princess Mononoke first since it was Inspector Saehara’s favorite film from the Studio Ghibli collection but, when the old man began to snore halfway through, Takeshi banished him to the master bedroom, and his muffled snores accompanied Joe Hisaishi’s ethereal score until the movie ended.

Daisuke ducked into the downstairs bathroom to get ready for bed in case he fell asleep while watching the movies, so Satoshi went upstairs to change and freshen up when he saw a text from Risa.

She sent him a picture from earlier; the girls stood to the left, guys on the right, as they framed the cake in the middle. The message underneath read: “had lots of fun earlier! hope we can do this again soon!”

Satoshi blinked, wondering what prompted Risa to text him. They only ever messaged each other to confirm plans with the group or to find each other in crowds: general housekeeping more than anything.

Satoshi: Did Fukuda steal the recipe?

Risa: yup! she’s got it stashed away on her phone! :)

He wondered what possessed him to message her, but the speed at which she replied with was astounding. His phone pinged again, and he saw another text from her.

Risa: how’s the movie marathon?

Satoshi: We just finished watching Princess Mononoke.

Risa: good choice! wish I could’ve stayed longer to watch with you guys :(

Satoshi: You’re still welcome to join us on Sunday if you’d like.

Risa: i’ll see if i can! thanks for the invite, hiwatari-kun!”

Satoshi sat at his desk, focused on his phone. And when Risa no longer responded, he left his phone on his desk to charge before heading downstairs. Daisuke was still taking a shower, but Takeshi was in the kitchen making hot cocoa.

When Takeshi saw Satoshi, he pulled him into a hug.

“Bro, thank you for inviting Risa over on Sunday.”

…

The boys breezed through more of the Studio Ghibli catalogue, getting through Castle in the Sky, Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, until they began to fall asleep while watching Porco Rosso. Takeshi leaned on Satoshi’s left shoulder, snoring at a tolerable volume and occasionally mumbling something in gibberish. Daisuke leaned on Satoshi’s right shoulder, cheek smushed into Satoshi’s upper arm while he hung onto Satoshi’s appendage like a sloth.

And Satoshi, enamored by the Studio Ghibli magic that gave life to a story about a pilot-turned-pig in the Adriatic Sea, watched on. And only when the credits began, with its calming music, did Satoshi join his friends.

…

Satoshi woke up to hear something sizzling on the stove. He rubbed his eyes awake before sitting up on the sofa. The blanket that covered him rolled off his chest as the cool air from the AC hit him, and he saw Takeshi and Daisuke in the kitchen.

(Inspector Saehara was not in the kitchen, but Satoshi picked out his snores from the room in the lulls of the sound of breakfast.)

When he finally came to, he joined the duo. He silently greeted them while he began to make coffee, filling up the kettle for some hot water.

Satoshi stood separated from the bustle in the kitchen, watching the kettle while Takeshi and Daisuke made small talk. Only when the kettle clicked did Satoshi move as he began to grind the coffee beans. He made enough coffee for Inspector Saehara to have his daily two cups and poured some out for the boys before joining them at the table.

“Dude, Satoshi’s coffee is to die for.”

Daisuke laughed before taking a sip. His face lit up, surprised, before he took another sip. “Wow, this is great! Thanks, Satoshi!”

He just nodded. Silent.

Even though he hadn’t said a word all morning, the guys didn’t force him to join their conversation. They let him be, just like he wanted, as he relished in this moment.

After they said their thanks, they dug into the breakfast. And while Satoshi silently ate, listening to Takeshi and Daisuke talk about the most menial of things, Satoshi genuinely wished that they could do this again.

…

Commissioner Hiwatari never took Satoshi out to shop for clothes. He would come home with items that somehow always fit but were always more fashionable than comfortable or practical. (And, if Satoshi had to be honest, he hated everything Commissioner Hiwatari bought him.)

Satoshi thought Takeshi would take him to a Uniqlo or SHIPS, but the trio found themselves in front of the department store.

“…with what money are we buying my clothes?” Satoshi asked, adjusting the tote slung over his shoulder.

“Ma said to charge it as a business expense.”

“…how?”

Takeshi shrugged before rolling up his sleeves. “Alright, fellas, we’ve got one job today, so let’s stay focused. No distractions!”

“Says the one who always gets distracted by the food and kitchen appliances,” Daisuke joked.

Takeshi glared before they walked in, politely turning down the makeup samples they could bring back to their “girlfriends” as they made their way to the escalator. Daisuke and Takeshi pulled their phones out as they ascended, but Satoshi looked down at the sprawling floor in awe. Everything shone, neatly displayed or folded, and he was too enthralled by the sight that he didn’t feel the pang of regret that often accompanied him finally experiencing something he should’ve long experienced as a child.

When they made it to the floor that housed the men’s section, mannequins dressed in sleek suits greeted them. Satoshi recognized those brands as the high-end ones that made up most of Commissioner Hiwatari’s closet, and Satoshi marched on to find something less expensive. He passed by some popular streetwear brands, only known to him because of Takeshi and Daisuke’s mild interest in fashion, until he finally found more subdued pieces of clothing that catered to his tastes.

“Satoshi, uh, that brand’s—”

Takeshi’s warning came too late. Satoshi looked at the tag, and the price bounced in his head. It was too damn expensive for a casual sweater, so much so that seeing that many numbers together physically hurt.

“Takeshi, this was a terrible idea.”

“Bro, you literally aren’t even trying right now.”

“But—” Satoshi gestured to the clothes surrounding them. “—there’s too much to look through. And they’re probably all pricey.”

Takeshi sighed. “Just ask someone to help you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Just go up to one of the attendants and ask them to help you. I’m sure they can find something for you.”

Satoshi just blinked, looking at Takeshi like he had said something in Russian. Takeshi returned Satoshi’s confused expression, and Daisuke laughed when he finally caught on.

“Are you too nervous to ask them for help?” Daisuke asked.

Satoshi Hiwatari, literal kid detective, college graduate at the tender age of fourteen, terrified to ask for help at the department store?

Absolutely.

Takeshi smirked, and Satoshi sighed, leaving the thoroughly entertained duo before asking one of the attendants for help. She directed him to a brand he wasn’t familiar with, but Satoshi liked the style and, most importantly, enjoyed the price point.

And after Satoshi tried on what he picked out, narrowing down the pile of clothes he brought with him to the fitting room, they paid before heading downstairs so Takeshi could fawn over the food. Satoshi followed him, wondering what samples he could taste, while Daisuke went off to grab something for Riku when he visited her during the holidays.

After stopping Takeshi from buying an extravagant set of chocolates, Satoshi spotted a familiar pink ribbon tying back brown locks. Lo and behold, Harada Risa was in her natural habitat at the department store, admiring the cases full of desserts while she carried a basket of impeccable looking strawberries in her hand. He ducked behind the closest fruit stand.

“Takeshi!” he harshly whispered.

“Ye?”

“Harada is here!”

Satoshi motioned towards the preoccupied girl, and Takeshi’s face lit up. What a serendipitous occasion for them to meet at the department store! But a familiar mop of red popped into his field of vision and was in the peripheries of a certain girl who would most definitely stop him were she to see him.

Thus, by virtue of the bro code, Rule Number 3 of this sleepover took precedent. But it also gave Takeshi a fantastic opportunity.

“I’ll distract her,” Takeshi whispered. “Get Daisuke out of here.”

“Where do we meet up?”

“Men’s section. We should be safe there.”

Satoshi nodded.

“Harada-chan!”

She turned around and greeted Takeshi. Satoshi couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but she saw Daisuke briskly walk towards him. He ducked behind the stand next to Satoshi, and they silently watched Takeshi lead her away for them to escape.

May his shot go well.

…

“So, what’s the real reason why you can’t be left alone with Harada?” Satoshi asked as the two of them sat down in the men’s section.

“Is Riku being jealous of her sister not a good enough reason?”

“I’m sure it’s part of the reason, but I feel like that’s not the whole thing.”

“Is that your detective instinct?”

“No. You’re just a little too obvious sometimes,” Satoshi said with a smile.

Daisuke sighed while Satoshi directed his attention to the passersby. A frantic woman passed by, quickly talking to someone on the phone in English.

“It’s just…Risa-chan has been a lot more clingy lately to the point that Riku’s starting to get annoyed with how much time I spend with her. And I’m having a sneaking suspicion that it has something to do with Dark.”

“Like residual feelings of some sort?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know what do with that.”

“Talk to her about it?”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why? Because you’re dating her sister?”

“Yeah. That’s one of the reasons, but I also don’t want to put her on the spot for it, especially if she doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

“Is that why you were a little too excited to hear about Takeshi’s feelings for her?”

“Yeah,” Daisuke sheepishly admitted. “It’s the easiest way to resolve it. A win-win situation for everyone involved.”

“That involves Harada returning his feelings.”

“There’s always a chance.”

“You’re holding onto a slim hope, then.”

Daisuke laughed. “Better to be optimistic, I always say.”

“Well, I’m sure there are other guys in our grade we could always…gently persuade to pursue Harada were she to turn down Takeshi’s feelings.”

His friend shook his head in disbelief that Satoshi even suggested such an idea while Satoshi laughed. If Takeshi couldn’t worm his way into Risa’s heart, no one else in their grade would be able to. Only a person with such outstanding confidence like Takeshi could handle Risa’s overwhelming personality.

Either that or…

That wasn’t a train of thought he was willing to entertain. Not now. And, hopefully, not ever.

Satoshi spotted Takeshi’s spiky hair in his peripheries as he rode up the escalator, shining with jubilee.

“Hello, men,” he greeted as the enthusiasm faded from his face. “What the hell have you two been talking about to make y’all look like death?”

“We’re bracing ourselves for the interrogation later by screening our answers,” Satoshi answered.

Takeshi glared at him.

…

“You did what?”

Mama Saehara’s voice boomed through the house. The boys just arrived, and they stood at the entrance, removing their shoes while trying to make as little noise as possible.

Satoshi had never heard her sound like that. Her voice always had a light and cheerful tone despite her powerful looks, yet she sounded exactly like he expected her to in that moment.

“It was an emergency!” Inspector Saehara retorted. “I know that he had plans an’ all, but—”

“But what? You think work is more important than what you made him miss?”

“Well—”

Mama Saehara screamed a flurry of French, and Inspector Saehara gasped before replying to whatever she just said in Japanese. Takeshi sighed as they bickered on.

“I’m sorry about this, y’all.”

“It’s fine,” Daisuke said. “My parents get like this sometimes, too. Even grandpa has his moments.”

Satoshi blinked. It sounded like Inspector Saehara and Mama Saehara were arguing over what happened yesterday, but he didn’t realize they would get so heated over something like that. Satoshi had completely gotten over being called to work when he woke up that morning, so he couldn’t empathize with them arguing about it.

“Is this normal?” Satoshi asked.

“Honestly, I’m surprised it took you this long to hear them like this, but I guess they’ve probably been holdin’ back because of you.”

Mama Saehara let out another exasperated string of words in French. Inspector Saehara demanded she repeat it in Japanese, taunting her, and she did without any hesitation. The boys gasped.

“I thought they got along,” Satoshi said.

“They do,” Takeshi said. “I mean, how else could they have been married for this long?”

“But—”

“This is normal!” Takeshi assured. “Besides, what family doesn’t argue?”

Daisuke nodded. Satoshi, however, decided he had had enough of the petty argument and marched into the kitchen to try to diffuse the situation.

Inspector Saehara sat at the table with his phone leaning against his mug. He looked up from the screen and balked at the sight of Satoshi before shooting him an awkward smile.

“Hey, Satoshi,” Inspector Saehara greeted. “How was yer trip to the department store?”

“Good.”

He expected Inspector Saehara to reply or for Mama Saehara to say something to him. She just grumbled something in French.

Inspector Saehara gasped.

“Have you no shame in cussin’ me out in a different language in front of our son?”

It was Satoshi’s turn to gasp. If only to lighten the situation.

Inspector Saehara cracked a smile.

…

Chips and beer in hand, Inspector Saehara retreated to the master bedroom. And, arms full of snacks, the boys retreated to Takeshi and Satoshi’s room upstairs. Satoshi sat at his desk, attempting to tidy his mess, while Takeshi and Daisuke sat on Takeshi’s bed, sharing an opened bag of chips.

“So…” Takeshi began.

“So…” Satoshi echoed.

Takeshi glared at Satoshi, and he smirked back. Daisuke laughed at his friend’s antics before munching on a handful of chips, cutting through the tension in the room.

“Tell us why you like Risa-chan,” Daisuke started.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Takeshi asked. “She’s adorable.”

“Then why’d you only start liking her recently?” Satoshi quipped.

“Hey, if you wanna take the floor, then you spill.”

“Do you want to cry?”

Both Daisuke and Takeshi looked at Satoshi, mortified, but he just laughed. Perhaps it was in bad taste to joke about what had happened to him, but Satoshi didn’t have any deep secrets or life problems to spill besides it.

Takeshi pouted. “You’re disqualified from speaking from here on out.”

Satoshi gave him a thumbs up with a smile. Takeshi returned it before he began to rock back and forth like a metronome.

“Honestly, I don’t really know, man,” Takeshi admitted. “After Harada-ane moved away and Harada-imouto started to hang out with us a lot more, I jus’ started to pay more attention to her an’ all. Next thing ya know, I’m daydreamin’ about her in class.”

Daisuke nodded while Satoshi blinked. He didn’t mind talks of romance when casually mentioned or joked about, but he felt uncomfortable hearing Takeshi talk about it so sincerely. He opened the box of matcha Pocky and hoped no one noticed him snacking on something he would never willingly choose.

“And I can’t help it even though I think she’s got her heart set on another guy.”

Satoshi bit the stick of Pocky in half. His eyes bounced from Daisuke and Takeshi, noting Takeshi’s growing impatience and Daisuke’s obvious awkwardness.

Takeshi’s keenness never failed to surprise Satoshi.

“She probably likes you, Daisuke.”

“What? No…”

“Bro, have you seen how she acts around you? Look, man, I know you’re dense, but you can’t be that obtuse.”

Daisuke glanced over at Satoshi, eyes begging for help. But Satoshi zipped his lips, keeping to Takeshi’s words from earlier. And, honestly, he wanted no part in this conversation at all.

“Daisuke, please, be honest with me. I promise I’ll try my best not to take it personally.”

He sighed. “…I know. I’ve known for a while now, but I don’t know if she knows. And even if she does know, I don’t think she wants to acknowledge it.”

“Does she like you because you’re you or because you were Dark Mousy’s host or something like that?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure most of her feelings are coming from her residual feelings for Dark, but Riku also just moved away. I wouldn’t be surprised if she started getting attached to me, to us, to fill the void of her sister.”

Takeshi groaned before grabbing his pillow and digging his head into it. “Unrequited feelings suck, man.”

Daisuke nodded while Satoshi bobbed his head in reflex. He remembered the pang he felt when he realized how important Risa was to him despite knowing how she felt for Dark. His burgeoning feelings, no matter how fleeting, still haunted his mind. Somehow, someway, Risa always crawled into his life uninvited.

Unlike Takeshi, however, he couldn’t welcome any of those feelings he had for her.

Luckily, his friends didn’t notice his absent-minded expression as he stared at nothing in particular and precariously balanced the stick of Pocky in his mouth. When he came back to the conversation, Takeshi had a devilish smile on his face while he nudged a red-faced Daisuke with his elbow.

“Come on, you can tell us how far you’ve gone with Harada-ane!”

“Absolutely not!”

…

Satoshi woke up.

Daisuke and Takeshi were still asleep. And he was about to fall back asleep considering how late the trio had stayed up, but he saw slivers of light blue filtering through the blinds and the lethargic haze clouding his mind cleared up despite the sleep deprivation.

He sent Takeshi and Inspector Saehara a message saying he’d be out just in case they woke up while he was gone and, phone in hand, he left the house to grab breakfast for everyone. There was a coffeeshop by the police station he was partial to, and he didn’t mind taking the slight commute to get there.

Satoshi rarely found himself this alert so early in the morning, but he enjoyed the calm stillness of Azumano at dawn. If he began to consistently wake up at this time, he wouldn’t mind adding a morning walk to his daily routine.

He didn’t think the coffeeshop would be so busy on a Sunday morning, yet he saw a large group huddled around the register when he arrived. Satoshi noted how young they looked and wondered why a group of teens would be willingly awake this early on a Sunday until he saw Ritsuko intently looking at a tablet in her hands.

He went up to her. “Robotics competition?”

She turned towards him, initially shocked to see him there, but a smile quickly settled onto her face. “Yeah. It’s just an invitational, but we’re hoping to win something at least.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks!” she said. “How’s your sleepover going so far?”

“Fun.”

She smirked. “Did you actually fall asleep last night?”

“Yeah. And I woke up early.”

“Unfortunately?”

“Fortunately. I’m sort of starting to like mornings.”

She laughed. “Well, I wish you the best of luck on your transition to become an early bird.”

The barista called their order, and the group swarmed around the counter. Ritsuko stood up and slipped the tablet into her bag.

“Sorry to cut this short, but we’ve got to head out now. See you around?”

“Of course. Kick their asses.”

Ritsuko blinked, taken aback by Satoshi’s choice of words before letting out a hearty laugh. “Saehara-kun really has rubbed off on you.”

After Ritsuko left with her club, Satoshi ordered. He waited at a table by the counter, enjoying the ambiance and the light muzak as he skimmed through the news on his phone.

After they called his name, he ambled home with the food and drinks in hand, watching Azumano wake up with every step he took. As the sun continued to rise and the sorbet-colored sky turned its usual hue of blue, he saw stores open, joggers zoom by him, and the occasional group of elderly women briskly walk past him. Everything felt different from the lunchtime hustle, the evening rush, like a car engine humming to life instead of zooming down the highway.

He really could get used to this.

When he returned home, the house was still. He began to unpack the food from the bags when he heard heavy footsteps barrel downstairs. Satoshi froze in place, and the sight of Takeshi coming into the kitchen couldn’t shake off the fear.

“Bro, Harada-imouto’s coming over around lunchtime later!”

“Cool.”

“Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“You, um, scared me. With the loud noises and all.”

“Aw shit, fam. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Takeshi then noticed the food that Satoshi brought. He began to open the containers in excitement until he found an order he knew belonged to him. His face lit up before opening his arms. A proud grin eclipsed his face.

“Come here, brotha!”

“Too early. Hard pass…brotha.”

…

The boys (and Inspector Saehara) sat at the dining table, stiff from anticipation for Risa’s arrival. Inspector Saehara learned about his son’s feelings for the Saehara household guest after asking why the hell his son was making that much racket so damn early in the morning and, fully supporting his son’s infatuations, helped the boys clean up and splurge on some food from that fancy place he knew the Harada family frequented.

His boy’s gotta make a good impression somehow.

So, when they heard the doorbell ring, exactly at noon, they looked at Takeshi, begging him to let her in. They held their breath, pitying the lovesick fool when they heard his usual, confident babbling turn clumsy as he stumbled over his words. But when they heard the door close and saw Risa walk in, wearing a t-shirt dress that definitely leaned towards a casual ensemble for a day with friends than an outfit to catch a boy’s attention, they cautiously glanced at Takeshi to see his perception on Risa’s uncharacteristic fashion choice.

The boy was too ecstatic at her company that he was blind to her obvious message about how she truly felt about this.

Was this a success? Or a failure? They couldn’t tell.

“So,” Risa began. “what’s the plan?”

…

Risa insisted on starting with Whisper of the Heart.

Satoshi expected it have that whimsical fantasy that permeated the films he watched the evening before, but it didn’t. It had the whimsy, for sure, but he couldn’t connect with the realism of the film. So, while Risa, Daisuke, and Takeshi waxed poetic about the youthful vigor in the couple’s ending, the sentiment was lost on him, and he dismissed himself on the kitchen to “grab a snack” while the trio argued over what to watch next.

He stood next to Inspector Saehara who sat at the table that allowed for prime viewing of his son’s adolescence. He had a laptop in front of him, with Mama Saehara on the screen, and Satoshi waved to her. She didn’t notice since she seemed preoccupied with something else on her end.

“I didn’t realize you were in a call with her.”

“She’s just here to get real-time updates on Takeshi crushing over the Harada kid. We’re not actually having a conversation.”

“Because of what happened yesterday?”

“What do you mean what—” Inspector Saehara didn’t finish his sentence. He just began to laugh. “Oh, that? That’s nothing.”

“Nothing? But…”

“It happens all the time. Me an’ Ma are always arguin’ over somethin’. It happens with those yer close to, yanno?”

No, Satoshi didn’t know. The bemused expression on his face said everything, and Inspector Saehara guffawed.

“It’ll happen one day whether you’ll like it or not. Just don’t hate us when it happens, alright?”

Takeshi came in. “Bro, we’re starting My Neighbor Totoro! Hurry up!”

Satoshi nodded, following Takeshi back to the living room without any resolution to his conversation with Inspector Saehara.

He sat down in the recliner, distant from the trio on the couch. Risa was wedged between Daisuke and Takeshi, dangerously close to crossing the threshold of Daisuke’s personal space. The former was dangerously close to rolling off the couch over the armrest; the latter was dangerously close to crossing the threshold of Risa’s personal space. As an outsider looking in, the teens spelled out their emotions so plainly that it only hurt to watch.

Satoshi envied them. Of that innocence that allowed them to feel the emotions that come and go. To allow themselves to get caught up in a tempest of their feelings without worrying about how far-reaching the consequences would be.

The chipper tune of the movie’s opening brough his attention back to the TV. And while those on the couch sung along, he just nodded to the beat, unable to fight the smile threatening his face.

…

After the movie ended, to everyone’s dismay, Satoshi ducked into the restroom. When he returned to the living room, only Risa was there, lying down on the couch as she busied herself with her phone.

Clearly, this situation was in violation of Rule Number 2 of the sleepover code, but it seemed like there was nothing he could do to amend the broken rule.

“Where’d they go?” Satoshi cautiously asked.

“Daisuke’s parents called him during the movie, so he’s returning their call right now. And Saehara-san and Takeshi-kun stepped out to grab dinner.”

“So, your parents are letting you stay until then?”

“Yup! So we can squeeze in two more movies before I have to head back!”

“Which movies?”

“The Wind Rises and Howl’s Moving Castle.”

“Do they have romance in them?”

Risa winked. “Of course!”

Satoshi rolled his eyes. “I don’t understand your obsession with romance.”

“You don’t have to, but just know that you’re missing out on a fantastic genre.”

Satoshi shook his head, and she just giggled. “Maybe you’ll change your mind when you actually fall in love with someone.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“I wouldn’t end your sentence so quickly,” she sang.

“Perhaps, but I still think you’re slightly delusional.”

“But who isn’t slightly delusional when it comes to love?”

Satoshi wondered what possessed her to say that. And, when she met his gaze, he didn’t expect to see that earnest expression on her face. The Risa in front of him was no longer the adolescent girl who lived up the stereotype. This was the Risa trying to expand her horizons, to learn what lay beyond her perception of the world: the Risa that terrified him.

“Do you think I’ve lost it?” she asked in a whisper. “Being hung up over a ghost of a feeling? Of a person I can’t clearly recall in my memories? At the fact that you can’t fill the hole they left not matter how much you tell me about them?”

Satoshi hated this. He hated how easily Risa managed to skirt the edge of his comfort zone. She was precise enough to get her point across yet vague enough that it felt rude for him to strike that boundary. Not without him risking sounding like an asshole.

Not without him allowing her to cross a boundary he wasn’t ready for anyone, let alone her, to cross.

He began to formulate the words in his mind to say that he couldn’t answer that question, that he felt uncomfortable even being in the position of receiving her inquiries. Satoshi had to brace himself for her disappointment at him pulling away, but Daisuke came down before Satoshi followed through with the decision his mind was heading to.

“So, what’re we watching next?” Daisuke asked.

Satoshi nearly wept from the timing.

…

Sunday passed without any more drama. After they finished the movies Risa wanted to watch, she left without much fanfare, and the boys went through as much of the Studio Ghibli filmography as they could before they passed out.

Satoshi, however, woke up that Monday morning in a cold sweat with a splitting headache. So, while Takeshi and Daisuke left to pick up Grandpa Daiki from the train station, Satoshi floated in and out of consciousness while a familiar, winged Phantom Thief haunted his dreams.

[bechobbi]

Fortune favours the bold - SamDrake x Reader - (Chapter 6)

Tags: @missdictatorme - @unchartedterritoria - @jodiereedus22 - @aliceriddell-aka-zephyr - @sicparvismagnaforsam - @mooraakath- @uncharted-trash-shar - @tennantmademedoit - @samdrakeftw - @sparrowspt9851 - @reachagalaxy - @irresistiblemonster @original-drake@sw33t-but-psycho @dragonjedihobbit @ellie-drake @fhujami@birdgirl69@mafiahobbit @spaskaalekha @avast-you-dirty-dog @shambhalala@fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13 @missymysa

Wanna be tagged in/out? Just tell me!

For once, you took a day off "work" and enjoyed the sun and nature that surrounded the motel.

You needed to reflect. You would have liked to accept Sam's proposal immediately, but at the same time you didn't want to endanger anyone else except yourself.

You walked slowly on a dirt path in the small wood in front of the motel. It was a pretty remote place if it weren't for the 24-hour supermarket.

You would have liked to have a plan, you thought, but it wasn't like that at all and you didn't even know where to start. However, you had some information about your evil relatives, they had the money to do everything even make you disappear into thin air.

Part of you was hoping they had forgotten about you after all these years.

Was it really better to leave it to someone else like Sam said?

Small parrots caught your attention. Their feathers were bright green and their noises resounded in the air. They hopped pecking at the ground looking for food a few meters from you. They reminded you of your old house where, in the middle of the large flower garden, there was a fountain where in summer the birds went to cool off.

That memory convinced you even more to want to take everything back even at the cost of risking your life. Then you resumed your march and the parrots soared into the sky as you passed by.

 Meanwhile at the motel Sam was making some phone calls:

“Hey old man, how are you doing? ... Yes, yes, I guess so ... Listen, I have a job that might interest you ... It is an inheritance ... Yes ... But the client has yet to give me a certain answer ... As soon as I know something I'll let you know ... OK, ok ... See you soon. "

He threw the phone on the bed and left the room to get a breath of fresh air. It was not easy to find someone, his bad friendships became fewer with the story of the marriage, he had had to cut many bridges because he wanted to start over.

The man had not remained idle while you were out clearing your train of thoughts, he had investigated you and your family.

Your parents were two patrons, two wealthy people who helped less fortunate kids to study and emerge. They were philanthropists, but also the black sheep of their respective families.

Your relatives, on the other hand, were rich stingy bourgeois and bad-hearted, and certainly did not look favorably on the choices of your mother and father.

Sam had even found a couple of newspaper articles reporting the discovery of two corpses, your parents’, but no mention of you.

The bodies had been found following an anonymous phone call received by the police. Together with them documents attesting to debts and tax fraud were found, which for the lazy and corrupt policemen they represented the motive for the death of the two people.

For them, your father would have killed your mother, after which he would have hang himself. A cliché.

“A big mansion, two rich people found dead in a suspicious circumstance, money, different opinions, corrupt police, a 'daughter' ... Interesting” thought Sam.

The man discovered that your mother had had a daughter, but she disappeared into thin air years later. No other births. The date of birth and your age did not match, so he deduced that you probably must have been adopted. Except that there was no sheet to prove it.

Sam needed to know more about you. So he waited patiently for your return plunging back into the search for more.

 You came back from your walk, you were calmly walking to the room where you had spent the night. The sun was setting. You knocked on the door, but no one answered. You knocked again. Nothing. You decided to forget about manners and try to open the door. It was open.

"Who the hell is it that doesn't lock the door in such remote place like this ?!" you murmured to yourself.

Upon entering you noticed that the room had been rearranged, the bed had clean sheets and your dirty clothes, which you had left on the floor that morning, had been folded and placed on the desk under the window.

There was a scent of cleanliness and everything made you feel a sensation of warmth in your chest.

You entered on tiptoe almost for fear of ruining that order, you crouched on the ground to take off your boots. Once barefoot, you went to bed and sat down waiting for some sign of life, a noise, anything that would tell you where your roommate was.

Then suddenly the door of the bathroom opened making you jump, you saw clothes fly and land on the floor in front of the bed. You thought it best to emit a rattle to signal your presence and if it wasn't for that you would have found the naked figure of Sam in front of you.

The man promptly tied a towel around his waist and when he crossed the threshold of the bathroom he said:

" You're back!"

You were a bit stunned to see him shirtless and from the towel you could get an idea of ​​the man's virility. A shiver ran down your spine. He was a captivating type, there was no doubt.

“Y-yes, I'm back. I-I tried to knock ... "

"Oh yes? I didn't hear" he said, running his hands through his still damp hair "I was taking a shower”.  At the base of his neck, his hair rolled up into more accentuated curls than usual.

"Where have you been?" he asked you taking another towel and passing it over his chest.

It felt like the beginning of a porn movie.

"Ah-um, I took a walk in the woods in front ..." you looked away from him who was now smiling slyly.

"Do you like what you see?" he said.

You blushed and laughed "Idiot, stop it, you make me uncomfortable ..."

He laughed hard as he took clean clothes from a bag in the closet.

"I thought you weren't coming back."

Suddenly a detail struck you, the man's left side showed round scars.

"What are those?" you asked to distract yourself from your obscene thoughts.

"A little memory of Panama, you know I liked it so much that ... well ... I always carry it with me" he chuckled.

You felt the urge to touch those wounds, to understand if they were true or not. Your body moved by itself, you crawled over to Sam and reached out. Your index finger now was brushing those circles of brown and jagged skin. He didn't move, he stayed there giving you his side. You could perceive the diversity of the skin, however soft, and under it the muscles that characterized the figure of the man.

"Did it hurt?" you asked.

"Like hell" he answered in a low voice.

"How did you do?"

At your touch Sam let out a small muffled moan and said "...They shot me."

"... oh ..." you were captured by those jagged circles.

Then suddenly he moved away and said "Now you do understand why you shouldn’t play with weapons?"

"Sorry ..." you said realizing what you just did. You had just touched his weakest points. And he had let you do it.

He smiled putting on a clean white T-shirt, then with jeans and a pair of boxers in his right hand he went to the bathroom to get dressed.

He came out dressed, clean and fragrant.

"I thought we could go get something to eat" he proposed.

Your stomach felt more empty than ever, so you accepted.

 You were walking towards the supermarket, you with your hands in your coat pockets and him smoking.

"You are the first person who decides to help me" you said.

Puffs of white smoke left Sam's lips "Well, if you had told someone what happened to you, maybe they would have helped you."

You weren't convinced then he added  "Surely, if I hadn't found your backpack you wouldn't have told me anything, and you would have just run away like you always have."

He read your mind, so you bit your lip and smirking you said "How do you know this?

Sam looked at you from his height "I put and two together. It didn't take a genius to figure it out. I did these things too. "

"Then don't lecture me" you teased him.

"You're better than me, that's why I'm warning you" he concluded.

 Finally you arrived at the supermarket, crossing the threshold the bell placed at the top of the door rang, signaling the entrance of customers.

"What do you want to eat?" Sam asked.

You just had to put anything under your teeth, so you ordered the attendant behind the bread counter to prepare you some sandwiches to eat on the fly.

During the preparation of what would be your dinner, you took a tour of the supermarket shelves.

Earlier, at the motel, you noticed the now empty bottle of Scotch, so you thought about getting one of the same brand. You grabbed the bottle and went back to Sam.

“I saw that you finished it" you said.

The man gave you a quick glance, then looked into his pockets and counted the money he had left.

"I think we would need a trick to get it" he winked at you and added "See how it’s done!"

With the sandwiches ready and the bottle of liquor you went to the cash desk where the usual swooning and provocative blonde whom Sam already knew was waiting.

"Hi handsome" she said.

"Hi honey, how are you?" Sam answered placing the items on the counter.

She leaned forward as usual to show her breasts "Now that I see you I'm fine"

"I guessed so" the man said letting his eyes wander over her.

"Who is she?" said the blonde pointing at you with her head.

“She is my little sister! We haven't seen each other for a long time, so tonight we wanted to celebrate "

The blonde was loudly chewing a chewing-gum and she was winking at Sam so constantly that she was almost annoying.

"You know..." Sam continued using his mellowest voice "I don't have enough cash with me ... So I thought we could make a trade, honey ..."

She melted like chocolate in the sun.

"What time do you finish, beauty?" Sam said moving closer to her face.

"At 11 pm I finish my shift ..." she said out of breath.

“I'll wait for you outside, what do you think? Me and you... ?" he continued.

She nodded biting her lower lip.

And that was how Sam got the free bottle of Scotch.

On the way to the motel you suddenly turned to the man "Are you really going?"

"Who knows" he replied.

You scrutinized it carefully and after a few minutes of silence you continued "I don't think you will go there"

"And how do you know?" he retorted.

"it's a feeling. You just wanted the bottle of Scotch, you don't give a damn about her "

"Atta girl, I see that we understand each other on the fly. You are impressive ... Furthermore she had floppy tits" he added.

It made you both laugh.

The evening passed quietly between Sam’s stories, time flew. It was a long time since you had such a good time, not to mention the fact that his stories were exciting.

Both of you were bit high from the alcohol and he seemed happier than when you first saw him.

"So?" you said interrupting the speech.

"So what?"

"...Will you help me?" you told him.

"I was waiting for you to ask me... I think so" he replied, lighting a cigarette.

You got up from the bed where you were sitting, you staggered towards him and, while Sam controlled your movements without understanding what you wanted to do, you approached his face. You gave him an intense look that left him breathless, whispered a "Thank you" and stole the cigarette from his hands.

He didn't resist nor react. He stood there motionless contemplating you. After a moment he recovered and laughed out loud "Hey that was mine!" he yelled.

Night fell, Sam slept on the floor to let you sleep in the bed.

 The next day you found breakfast again and Sam was waiting for you to wake up sitting next to you on the bed, his back against the wall.

"Hey ..." he said "it's time to get up ..." he moved the locks of hair in front of your closed eyes.

Slowly you became aware "G-Good morning ..."

"Come on sleepyhead, there's coffee ... and... we have an appointment ..."

You sat down too, while Sam handed you the cup of hot coffee.

"Thank you..."

He smiled at you soflty.

Sipping the drink you asked him for more information about the appointment he had just mentioned.

"What do we have to do?"

"We have to meet a person the will help us."

You were surprised. Now you had two people to rooting for you.

"Oh..."

“Don't worry, you will thank us when done. Come on, go wash your face, he will be here soon. "

Taken by anxiety, you gulped the coffee in a single sip and catapulted to the bathroom to wash and dress.

After the shower you changed your clothes and decided to wear a dress that your mother had given you years ago.

Once out of the bathroom Sam couldn't help but notice a new side of you, a more feminine side that you apparently tended to hide.

He whistled at you and said "How cute we are"

You blush saying "My mother gave it to me years ago, I think it's the right time to wear it"

He looked at you from head to toe, made a grimace of approval and added "It fits you divinely."

You blushed again.

The magic moment was interrupted by someone knocking on the door.

"Here he is!" Sam nimbly jumped out of bed to open the door.

A middle-aged man with white hair and a bright look was out there.

“Hey Victor! Long time no see!"

"Hi Sam!"

The two hugged and patted each other on the back while you waited for introductions.

"So, Samuel Drake, will you let me in?" said the older man.

"You're welcome" replied the younger one and clearing his throat added "Ahem, this is the disinherited princess", he put both hands on your shoulders "She is Y / N  Y / L / N"

"Hello ..." you held out your hand.

"My pleasre Miss, I'm Victor" he shook your hand. His grip was as strong and firm as Sam's, and from that detail you felt you could trust him too.

Sully took a seat in the chair in the room and you and Sam took place on the edge of the bed.

"So, where do we start?" Victor asked.

Sam waved at you to invite you to speak.

You were so uncomfortable having to tell about your misadventure that you were torturing your fingernails.

Sam noticed your discomfort, so he took one of your hands in his and squeezed them tightly to give you courage. With a smile he gave you another nod and pointing to Sully he said “You can rest assured. Victor and I have known each other for a lifetime, he is a person you can trust, just like me. "

The older man then spoke up and began "I did a lot of research on your family. And you ... you don't appear anywhere. To help you, we need as much details as possible. You can trust me, I give you my word" he concluded putting a hand on his heart.

You held your breath for a couple of seconds, then let yourself go.

“Ok ... I can do it ... I was taken into the house by Mrs. and Mr. Y / L / N when I was about 4 years old. I was part of one of the groups that they followed and to which they gave financial aid to study. Like me, many of my companions had no parents, however, among many, they decided to keep me by their side as if I were their daughter. Only later I understood why: I resembled their missing daughter. Similar eyes, similar attitudes. I heard rumors about this missing daughter of theirs, she wasn't dead, just one day she vanished into thin air. Not being able to have other children, the Lady taught me to call them mom and dad. I grew up with them, studied with them every day of my life. I lacked nothing and I was happy. "

The two men were attentive to every single word that came from your lips. Serious and silent. Occasionally Sam stroked your hands with his thumb and that comforting feeling made you feel good.

“Then one day… I was playing hide and seek with a partner of mine and… I happened to witness an argument between my parents and one of my father's brothers. He brought misfortune, I felt it ... I had never seen my father so agitated ... but at the same time he was determined to continue on his path. "

A tear ran down your face. You stopped your story for a moment as Sam's grip tightened. That gesture moved you and spurred you to go on.

“My father's brother used to say that my parents were doing something wrong and that they should think before doing such a stupid thing. I didn't understand what they were talking about ... I remained hidden listening all the time. Until at a certain point everything was clear: my parents had decided to adopt me and make me the only heir to their inheritance. My relatives, on the other hand, wanted the inheritance for themselves. But my father and my mother had already begun the procedures to adopt me. "

At the word inheritance Sam and Victor threw a knowing look at each other while you continued to unravel the facts.

"My parents ... wanted to remove all their family members from the inheritance because they were people who used the money only for their own purposes, while mom and dad invested in the less fortunate generations ... So to get the inheritance they would have to eliminate me. "

You grasoed Sam's hand and continued in a low voice "... Until one day I’ve found my father hanged and my mother motionless on the ground ..."

Sam interrupted "...Did you do the anonymous phone call?"

You nodded in tears "Yes ... Yes ... It was me who found them ... I felt the world collapse, so I did the wisest thing to do at that moment: run away. It wasn't easy, they tried to track me down, I had a fight with my father's brother, I shot him in the leg as a result of his assault, luckily I didn't end up in prison ... then I finally ran away and they didn't come looking for me anymore. .. "

Sully pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket, took one and lit it. He had to ease the tension of the moment. He took a puff of smoke and asked "How long have you been on the run?"

You looked up at him "About 10 years ..."

"Man..." Sam commented.

You dried another tear.

"Could you give us some information about your relatives or about this uncle of yours?" Victor asked.

"He is the most dangerous, the others are simply inepts, but him ... he is a true son of a bitch."

"I learned that he is a drug dealer" added the elderly man.

"Among the many things ..." you commented.

"... and it seems that he has some kind of bodyguard" concluded Victor turning to Sam.

Sam gave him a questioning look.

You looked at them with horror in the eyes and tearing your hand from those of the younger man you burst into a desperate cry "I'll never make it ..."

Sam wrapped you in his arms and you let yourself go to a convulsive cry.

The two men were now looking into each other's eyes. Then Victor said "The bodyguard is only one"

Upon hearing those words Sam felt relieved, but his attitude soon changed when the other man added:

"... she's a woman".

Sam shivered, his guts twitched, his sixth sense was telling him that if Victor had specified such a trifle it meant that in reality it was not at all, but it was a fundamental detail.

"... Do you believe that ...?"

Sully nodded.

"Fuck ..." Sam murmured bringing a hand to his face while he squeezed you with the other.

[lifesabe-ch]

this means war - billy r. and frank c. (part 6)

summary: this is a spin off from a movie (can anyone find the title? ;) starring Billy Russo and Frank Castle. In this AU, Billy isn’t a psycho, Frank’s family is alive, and they both really like coffee. And, y’know, Y/N.

pairings: Frank Castle x Reader, Billy Russo x Reader (actually both of them, i promise)

warnings: fragile male ego and sass

a/n: hi i’m admin A, aka @pitaparka, and this is my first post on this blog! we’ve been co-writing this for a while so it just seemed logical for me to hop on here as an admin! I probably won’t be doing any individual writing here (i write independently on my above blog, so if you like this blog, you should check that one out too ;), but if we’re doing any co-writing, it’ll probably be here. that’s all for now. later!

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5

Billy accidentally locked the door to his apartment trying to get in from work. Which was concerning, considering he locked it this morning. If he could bet money on whether or not Frank was sitting on his couch—

He would have been wrong. Frank was sitting at his breakfast counter. Eating pizza.

Billy sighed loudly, “Did you at least save me some?”

Frank doesn’t even look over his shoulder as he slides the pizza box over to the empty seat next to him. 

Billy drops his keys on the counter, tosses his suit jacket there too, and loosens his tie before sitting down next to Frank.

“Mushroom and sausage,” he says, his eyes trained on the news playing on Billy’s television. 

They sit there silently eating pizza together. 

“I saw Y/N today.” Billy says. He can almost see Frank’s ears perk up.

“At work?” 

“No. The coffee shop. I dropped by, you know, to see her.” 

Frank nodded. 

Grinning, Billy nodded, “We’re going on date. Our first date, already.” He gets up from the breakfast bar to wipe off his hands. 

Quirking a brow, Frank chuckled, “Good for you man. Good for you.”

“Yeah. How are you two doing?” 

“We already had a date.” 

Watching as the grin immediately fell from Billy’s face, he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“What? When?” 

“Last night.”

“No… you went on my date?”

“Your date?” Frank scoffed, sipping the beer he had in his hand, as he watched Billy pace. “It was my date, asshole. One too many hits to the head today?”

“I—You… That was my date!” Billy says, leaning on the breakfast bar.

“So why weren’t you on it?”  

 “W-what?” Billy asked. He takes a second to process it. “I was… at a meeting.”

“Sure. At eight o’clock at night?”

“Yes, at eight o’clock at night.” 

Frank shot him a look.

 “Some people have businesses.” He defends. 

Frank scoffed, “You have one business, Billy.”

“And you’re getting into my business, so watch it.”

“Yeah? What’re you gonna do about it, Russo? You gonna—”

“We need some rules.”

“Huh?” Frank asks. He gives Billy a look like Billy’s seen many times before. It basically slaps him upside the head and asks him how much he’s had to drink already. He retreats to the fridge to grab a beer. Get an early start on the night ahead of him. 

“What the hell are you on about, man?” Frank asks. He leans over the box and grabs another slice of pizza. 

“I don’t think we should tell her that we know each other.” Billy says. Frank looks at him. 

“What, like, stay out of each other’s way?” Frank takes the remote and turns the volume down on the TV.

“Yeah. Just let her decide.” 

“We’re already letting her decide,” Frank clarifies.

“No, I mean… no interruptions.”

Billy watches as Frank contemplates this whole thing. 

“Billy, you know you’re like a brother to me, man.” 

He rolls his eyes, “Don’t do this—”

“No no no, I mean, I don’t want this… whatever this is to mess us up, okay?”

“Listen,” Billy starts, “have we ever let a girl come between us before?”

“We’ve never liked the same girl before.”

“I’m just saying…  If things get too tense, we can both back off, okay?”

Frank shakes his head. He lets out a sigh. 

“So we’re not getting in each other’s way.”

“No, Billy, we aren’t.”

“That pretty much settles it?”

“Yeah.”

Frank closed the pizza box, signifying the end of the conversation. 

“How was my date?” Billy asked, taking a drink from his beer.

“You mean my date.” Frank clarified, turning up the TV a little bit. 

“Well, I was the one who asked her. And I picked the restaurant. And the time.” 

“The restaurant? What restaurant?”

Billy stared at Frank in confusion. “Did you not… wait, where did you go?” 

“We went to Tina's Place. Off of 60th. The midnight one.”

“Oh. Why?” Billy picks at the label on his beer bottle that’s already starting to peel with condensation. 

“Because we were at the bar down the street.”

“You picked her up at a bar?”

“What does it matter, Russo? You’re losing anyway.”

“Frank, you’re this close to getting kicked out of my apartment.  Did you do anything?”

“No, Bill, we sat there and we stared at each other. All night.”

“You know what I’m asking.” Billy deadpanned.  

“We kissed.” 

“And?”

“And nothin’.” Frank huffed. 

“You went on my date and all you did was kiss?” Billy asked, incredulously. 

“More than you did,” Frank muttered, loud enough for Billy to understand the mischievous grin on his features. 

“Just wait until I get to go on my date, Frankie.” Bill declared, moving to toss the empty pizza box in the trash.

“If you even make it. Maybe I’ll get to go on that one too,” Frank said, chuckling. He gets up and grabs his phone off the kitchen counter. He doesn’t even check it before he slips it into his pocket and makes his way to the door.

“Oh I’m going on this date, Frank. It’s gonna be the best damn date of her life. She’s not even gonna remember who you are.”

“Whatever you say. I’ll see ya tomorrow, Billy,” Frank yells over his shoulder on his way out.

Billy sat, only the company of the TV to keep his apartment from complete silence. As much as he hated coming home to other people in his house, he didn't mind Frank all that much. Especially when he cleaned up after himself. Billy let his own beer bottle clank softly into the trash. He got to work on the dishes that were starting to pile up in his sink. He hated a messy apartment. 

With most of his household chores done, he broods on the couch over Frank’s dinner. His dinner, really. A missed opportunity. He wasn’t upset with her. He wasn’t even upset with Frank. He was more upset with himself, getting caught up like that. He fiddled with the remote. 

“Dinner. Saturday night. Eight o’clock.”

This was shaping up to be just like the situation he got himself in. He needed to do something else. Something drastic. If this was a race, Frank was winning. But that’s okay. Only for now. Slow and steady, Billy. Slow and steady.

He takes out his phone and sends a text. 

Hey, you free Saturday morning instead?

He doesn’t know what to do, so he stares at his phone. He imagines her, rolling her eyes and ignoring him. He cycles through some apps before he gets the notification from her.

uhhhh why?

Billy is awestruck. Why? He doesn’t know how to respond. Everything he comes up with sounds wrong. That’s not how he expected her to respond. 

“Because I want to take you for breakfast instead.” He types, but deletes it. That sounds too forward, like he has plans late on he doesn’t want to cancel for her.

“I just want to see you sooner.” Ugh. That’s the wrong side of creepy, not sweet.

He panics. He’s been typing and deleting for almost a minute. 

Why not?

 He sends.

I’m a coffee man, you know that

He sends again. He stares, and his messages pop up as having been read by her. He lets his fingers do a little dance over the keyboard, waiting to type out a reply.

you got me there

 She sends, and Billy smiles at his phone.

Sweet 

He sends back, and at the same time, she sends him,

still my place?

Billy ponders for a second. The ball is in his court.

Yeah. 9:30 sound good? He asks.

yup 

She shoots back immediately. He locks his phone and tosses it to the side, running his hands over his gelled hair. All is right in the world. But he needed to shower. Just then, he gets one more text. 

He thinks it’s Y/N, but it’s not. It’s Frank.

i left my hat at ur house

Billy ignores the message. 

“Even when he’s not here, he’s here,” Billy mumbles to himself. He sees Frank’s blue baseball cap sitting lonely under the chair where Frank sat. He ignores that too, in favor of a hot, steamy shower before bed. Frank will come get it eventually. Just not tonight.

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