#i gleamed this from listening to Three episodes. three!

[theoldsports]

SOUR.

Art Donaldson x Reader (Patrick Zweig x Reader) | SORRY series | 4.2k words

it’s finally here by popular demand. Patrick has entered the plot. this is set before all of the prior chapters, two days before the Donaldson wedding. can be read as part of the SORRY SERIES (read more episodes of their lives here) or on its own. lemme know if you’d like to be on the taglist.

warnings: 18+. angst. it’s brutal angst. more than allusions to Patrick’s canonical use of hard drugs. rehab, allusion to an OD, mention of Art’s disordered eating patterns. they’re bad for each other in a good way. the Donaldsons have a friendly dog. coveting another man’s wife. discussion of niche sexual fantasies. making out. biting. tornados/extreme weather. running away from your problems.

“Art?”

“Nngh.”

“Artie, wake up.”

“‘M up. Fhhh… ‘m up. What’s the matter?” Art grumbled with half shut eyes. “Somethin’ wrong?” He whispered even though they were alone. It was nighttime which meant whispering to Art.

“I don’t like this storm.”

What a sign that storm should have been.

Art smirked. “We’re getting married in, like, three days and you’re worried about the weather?”

“There’s a tornado warning. Or watch. Whichever the worse one is. I saw it on the news.”

Art frowned. “You ever been through a tornado?”

“No.”

Art rolled over from his position in [Y/N]’s arms to face her nose to nose. “I have. A lot. Close your eyes,” he commanded softly. His arm slotted into the dip of her waist and pulled her closer. “Close ‘em for me. That’s it, that’s it.” He coaxed as she followed his directions.

“I don’t see what this has to do with—“

“Shh, listen,” they both got quiet. Rain pelted against the windows. Wind whistled. Branches cracked and crunched. Thunder boomed. [Y/N] could see the gleam of lightning even behind her eyelids. “Hear it?”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

“Yeah.”

“Great. Congrats. Your ears are workin’ best as they can,” Art teased to try and get his fiancé to crack a smile. “Now, which one’s the loudest? Which of the sounds?”

“You breathing.”

“I’m flattered. Which one outside?”

[Y/N] listened. “Right now? The rain, I think.”

“We’re in the clear for now. Let me know when the wind’s louder. Like that real, real crazy whooshing, whistling sound. When it starts whipping like that, we’ll go in the bathroom and lock the doors, yeah? Hell, we can head in now if it would make you feel better?”

“What if I fall asleep before the weather gets worse?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay awake,” Art yawned. “How about I get you up if I notice a disturbance. I gotta take care of my wife, right?”

“I’m not your wife.”

Art sighed. “…I know. I’m just practicing.”

Fortunately, no tornado ever touched down. And Art was still there when [Y/N] woke up.

It always amazed her that Art was still there everyday. For every nasty thing she said to him that she didn’t mean, every argument where she told him Patrick was right, every tennis match won or lost, every natural disaster, every tear shed. Art was there for all of it. He liked the bad moments as much as the good ones because it meant simply more time spent by [Y/N]’s side. He wasn’t going anywhere. Ever.

It was too much power, [Y/N] frequently thought, that she had over Art.

[Y/N] faced Art and brushed his strawberry blonde hair away from his forehead. Art often looked exhausted. He wore his tiredness on his face and shoulders. The exhaustion of constantly chasing, people-pleasing and being a professional athlete could destroy a kid. Art wore it like a Boy Scout badge. [Y/N] could watch him look relaxed forever. It was so rare he looked like that.

“Good morning, guard dog,” [Y/N] whispered. Art stirred. She could tell he was awake even though his eyes were shut due to that crease the reappeared between his eyebrows. It was never not there in his waking moments. Slowly, Art’s hand crept up and gently clutched [Y/N]’s wrist. Art used his grip to slide [Y/N]’s hand down his own drowsy face. He planted a kiss on her palm before tiredly looking at her. “Good morning.” She repeated to him.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” [Y/N] replied. Gray sunlight filtered through the window. “You ready for today?” She smirked.

“What’s today?”

“Patrick’s in town.”

Art dramatically threw his arm over his face and groaned. “I thought he was in tomorrow… Everything was so peaceful… And quiet,” Art mumbled into his elbow. He couldn’t keep a straight face for long and resolved into a soft laugh. “Whose babysitting?” He asked, peering his blue and brown eyes over his arm.

“I’m picking up the cake today, so I figured I could use his strength.”

Art sat up a bit. “You’re getting it today?”

“In the later afternoon, yeah. Why?”

“It’s gonna be, like, stale.”

[Y/N] glanced over at Art. “If we had gotten cupcakes like I wanted, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“You’re such a little jerk.” Art teased.

“Me!” [Y/N] gasped. “It doesn’t even matter because it’s not like you’re gonna eat it anyway because you don’t eat anything.”

“Little jerk!” Art said with his crooked smile widening. He leaned in, slotting an arm over her. “You heard me. You’re a little… troublemaking jerk.” Art’s nose almost pressed against hers.

“Oh yeah? Why are you marrying me then, hm?”

“…You’re pretty,” Art grinned almost timidly, bowing his head. His flat vocal timber sounded like the verbal equivalent of a blush. “Like, really, really pretty. Even if you suck.” Tenderly, Art leaned the rest of the way in to kiss [Y/N]. Once and then twice and then seven times. Maybe fourteen.

And they would have stayed like that all day.

They would have.

BANG BANG BANG.

Like gunshots.

Their lips parted and they held long eye contact. They paused. They sighed.

“Patrick.” They both said.

With a bend of his arms, the full weight of Art’s toned body collapsed on top of [Y/N]’s.

“Pretty baby!”

“No. ‘M pretending he’s not out there,” He laid flat on her, head on her chest. “Can’t go anywhere now.”

BANG BANG BANG on the front door again. Cheese, the couple’s Labrador mix barked at the sound from downstairs.

“Art!”

“Mhm-mm. Nope. Too bad. Sucks for Patrick.”

[Y/N] huffed. “You’re upsetting the dog.”

“He’s upsetting the dog,” Art started to laugh. “He showed up early. I’m just laying here. Hey, hey!” Art jeered as [Y/N] wiggled out from underneath him from backwards. She tried to inch away off the side of the bed. Her shoulders slumped against the carpet, while Art held her legs in place on the bed. [Y/N] dangled in a half on-half off sort of way. Her oversized Stanford t-shirt rolled up during the drama, exposing her breasts to Art. Unashamed, he stared.

[Y/N] twisted her foot into the side of Art’s face, causing a small cry of disgust from him. Just enough chaos for her to slip away. Without hesitation, she tossed the lightweight door open and skittered down the stairs with Art’s long gate keeping pace behind her. His arms reached out in an attempt to grab her. “He’s early! He can wait! He’s never been early in his whole fucking life!” Art laughed. Cheese jumped and barked at the hysteria.

The chase continued until [Y/N]’s hand hit the doorknob and chain. She unlocked it immediately. As [Y/N] ripped the door open, Art’s arm encircled her waist yanking her to the side with the force of his momentum, causing her to laugh with glee.

And on the other side of the door was Patrick Zweig.

Smiling impishly, Patrick took in the disheveled appearances of his two favorite people. He bit the inside of his cheek. “Nice boner.” Patrick smirked at Art, while he pulled [Y/N] into a side hug.

Art didn’t have a boner, or at least a proper one. But the comment was enough to get Art to look. He rolled his eyes and pulled Patrick in for a hug. Cheese ran over to the door for attention, when Art greeted Patrick.

Art closed the door. Patrick ducked down to greet the Labrador too. He liked Cheese, but wouldn’t necessarily choose to be around a dog in his free time the way that Art and [Y/N] did. Cheese really liked Patrick, much to his chagrin, so he pretended to be nice. While Patrick sat on the floor with the animal, he looked up at his best friends. “What’s with the clothes? You just get up?” Art with no shirt in just tube socks and boxers, and [Y/N] in Art’s old college shirt and underwear. They had all seen each other like this so many times growing up that no one particularly cared that the future Donaldsons looked so post coital. It was pretty normal. Patrick’s smirk sliced further across his unwashed face with the ghost of a laugh. “Were you guys fucking?” He said like a horny teenager.

[Y/N] laughed hard and kissed her lifelong best friend on top of the head on her way to make a pot of coffee in the kitchen. “No.” Art sighed in disappointment, flopping onto one of the barstools in the kitchen. This disappointment was either disappointment in Patrick for asking, or disappointment in the lack of sex due to Patrick’s arrival. It was Patrick’s fault either way.

When the dog got bored, Cheese wandered into the kitchen for nonexistent scraps. Patrick pulled up a chair next to Art and dropped his backpack on the floor. “How’s it going, man? You look good. Feeling ready?” He asked, leaning forward to tap Art across his bare knee.

Art nodded as if it say it’s a sure thing. “Thanks. We miss you. We appreciate you being here. It means a lot.”

“I appreciate you being here,” [Y/N] cut in. “Because you’re in my half of the wedding party.” She and Art were always in constant competition over who loved Patrick more. Art wanted him to be his best man. [Y/N] won out, though, having known him since the age of seven and Art only since age twelve.

“Ladies please. Not all at once.” Patrick said. He stood from his chair and wrapped his long arms around [Y/N] in a proper hug finally. Briefly, his chin rested on her head. He stopped before it went on too long.

“Good to see you, kid. How’s it going?” At two months older, [Y/N] had been calling Patrick ‘kid’ diminutively for almost two decades. It was cuter before he got so tall.

“I called you yesterday.” He replied dryly, stepping back to look at her. [Y/N] noted Patrick’s intimately familiar eyes. Too wide, pupils too dilated. Hm. He wore a long sleeved sweater and jeans. And dirty tennis shoes.

“You bring something nicer than this for Saturday?” She teased, pulling on one of his holey sleeves.

Art snorted at Patrick’s expense and cracked a smile. His freckled elbows leaned onto the counter. “Yeah, yeah. I’m here for two seconds, ‘n you’re already giving me tsuris?” Patrick quipped to [Y/N].

“Tsuris… Never thought I’d say it, but you sound like your mom, Patrick.” [Y/N] scoffed. Art snorted a laugh too.

Patrick frowned. “Guess I have to kill myself then.” He joked harshly to more laughter from the other two. M

“Yep. Have some coffee. Both of you. I’m going to put pants on.” [Y/N] turned away and moved to the stairs.

“Aw, do you have to?” Patrick called after her. [Y/N] tossed a middle finger up over her shoulder as she walked away. Art hissed at Patrick’s comment.

“Do you have to flirt with my wife?” Art sneered without malice.

Patrick smiled that boyish small, wicked, unassuming smile. “She’s not your wife yet.” He snapped back. Art smiled at him in return. The two held each other’s gaze adorned with sick grins for a moment before both of them dissolved into laughter. Everything was a competition, but it was only real if they brought it up.

Fast forward a few hours and Patrick and [Y/N] were in the car. Art had taken off for a haircut because his mom thought he looked like a messy little punk and wedding pictures were forever. [Y/N] drove because Patrick drove too fast and without mercy. He had a sports car once when he was in school and still spoke to his parents daily and had notably wrapped it around a telephone pole and walked out without nary a scratch. How’s that for nine lives?

[Y/N] had a sedan.

She and Patrick both held a cigarette out each of their respective windows as she drove.

“You should really quit, y’know.” She told Patrick.

He leaned over and blew smoke in her face. “Yeah, I’ll quit when you do.”

Patrick’s rude gesture didn’t bear acknowledging. “It’s different. You’re an athlete. I watch movies and review them for a living. It’s expected of me. You… you’re making your performance actively worse. You’re kneecapping yourself by choice.” [Y/N] explained.

“I’m good enough to take the hit.”

[Y/N] laughed and took a drag of her cigarette, asking it out the window. “And you’re arrogant enough to make that comment. Sometimes I look at you and you’re still thirteen. I swear to God. It’s fuckin’ funny,” she said. It was quiet for a moment. “Art, though. He doesn’t smoke anymore.”

“I don’t believe you,” Patrick replied immediately with a wild look in his eye. That was apparently a big surprise. “He’s totally lying to you. There’s no way—“

“Nope! Quit on his own too. He just decided he was done with it one day and got all pro-athlete about it.”

“Y-you’re wrong! You’re so wrong. He’s a liar. Last time I was in town, we—“

“No. No fucking way,” [Y/N] shook her head in manic disbelief. “When you came by to—“

“Mhm. Yep. On the patio. You didn’t notice?”

[Y/N] shook her head. “No sense of smell because of… I’m a smoker. I just… He’s such a shit.”

“A shit and a hypocrite!” They both laughed. When the glee dampened naturally and the cigarette butts were pitched out the window, Patrick looked over at [Y/N]. One good, long look. “You ready for Saturday?” Patrick asked because he was a masochist.

[Y/N] found herself often thinking back on this moment. Was this when it had gone wrong beyond repair?

[Y/N] sighed. She would only ever tell Patrick and maybe Art this. “Yes and no.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t say it like that. I have been ready to marry Art since I was, like, seventeen years old. It is unfathomable to me how much love I am capable of giving him, y’know? If he wanted the Mona Lisa, I’d be robbing the Louvre tomorrow. He’s it for me,” she said. Patrick faked a smile very convincingly and nodded for her to go on. “What I’m not looking forward to is everyone I know being in the same room at the same time. I don’t like other people except you and Art. And my editor. That’s about it.”

“You’re not at all worried about spending all that time married to someone?” Patrick tried to jab at her with his words while he scratched his right forearm.

“Not with Art.”

“Wow. That’s awfully grownup of you.”

“Yeah, well. I’m a grownup. With a smokin’ hot fiancé. And he actually cares if I live or die. Isn’t that crazy? My parents weren’t like that with each other. It’s… Am I allowed to say how grateful I am to you for bringing him home for break that one time, or is that stupid?”

“It’s kinda stupid,” he agreed teasingly. In reality, he wanted more than anything to put himself out of his misery. My fault, my fault, my fault. The words looped in Patrick’s head on constant repeat. He wanted to rip his skin off for so many different reasons. He couldn’t take it and he was trapped. Fuck.

Patrick scratched his right forearm again.

“Truth or dare?” Patrick slurred. He was twenty-one and drunk for [Y/N]’s birthday. She, Art and Patrick sat on the disgusting archaic carpet in Art’s dorm room.

“Uh, truth.” [Y/N] said too soberly to sober.

“Boring!” Art said, putting his hand on [Y/N]’s thigh.

Patrick took a long swing of his beer while he thought. “Okay, okay. What’s your weirdest sexual fantasy?” He asked.

“Ew.” [Y/N] wrinkled her nose.

Art thought the question was epic, but wasn’t going to facilitate his girl’s discomfort. “Hey, it’s her birthday, she doesn’t have to—“

“Um, no. I’ll do it. This is an actual dream I had. I think about it kinda all the time. Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud. It so dumb. So, it’s Art and I’m sitting at the kitchen table with coffee or something. And Art… sings me Happy Birthday like Marilyn Monroe did for JFK. And he’s dressed like Marilyn, but like a boy. No dress, but like the boy version of that look. Then we fuck. That’s weirder than you wanted. That was weird, right?” [Y/N] rambled.

Art leaned in closer to her. They were all drunk as skunks and he couldn’t help bite his lip. His arm pulled her closer to him. Art was handsy when drunk, they were all learning.

“Whose Jackie O?” Patrick asked.

“No Jackie O. And I’m not JFK. He’s just Marilyn. Gentlewomen prefer blondes.” [Y/N] had laughed so hard at that while she tangled her fingers in Art’s sandy hair.

The car ride to get cake and the drive back was the last proper conversation [Y/N] and Patrick had. The pair got home. Nothing seemed unusual to [Y/N] at all. They talked the whole time without any dry spells. The cake, in pieces to be assembled, was carefully toted in and placed way out of the way from disaster. Patrick took his bag to the bathroom, claiming he was going to shower.

[Y/N] shouted after him. “You know where the towels are!”

Patrick looked back over his shoulder at her with a smirk and closed the bathroom door behind him.

And he went out through the bathroom window.

[Y/N] had no idea he had gone until she heard his car start. For a minute, she thought it was the neighbors. She walked halfway down her hallway and saw the bathroom door open. No running shower water, no half nude Patrick shaving or something. She ran back down the hall and glanced out the kitchen window and watched his new white SUV whip out of the driveway.

[Y/N] stood there for several minutes. Staring and staring and staring after him. Not a single effort to move. The first thing she did was pick up her blue slidephone from beside the sink. She called Art, not Patrick. Patrick made his choice.

[Y/N] hadn’t realized she was crying when Art picked up on the other line.

“Honey? Honey, you there? You buttdial me?” Art said. [Y/N] thinks he said shit like that for several moments before she spoke. She just faced the window and stared for what felt like ages.

“Patrick’s gone.”

“Hm?”

“Patrick’s gone.”

“What do you mean he’s gone.”

“He climbed through the bathroom window and drove off. We-we didn’t have a fight. Or-or… He just left. Like it was nothing.”

“I’m on my way. Stay where you are.”

Art rushed back in his blue-black jeep wrangler. It ripped into the smooth driveway causing the tires to damn near squeal. When he got out of his car and bounded to the door, it was clear that about half of his hair had been cut instead of all of it. [Y/N] would have laughed in an ideal situation.

“Baby, hey, what happened?” Art said breathlessly as he unlocked the door. [Y/N] sat at the seldom used dining room table the two of them used to hold their junk mail, sitting straight up and looking through Art. Art was alarmed. She never sat at the table and rarely was her face so expressionless. She was always feeling, expressing, something. He couldn’t tell if she was crying or not, but her eyes were red.

“Patrick seems to have decided not to join us this weekend.” [Y/N] said clearly.

Art closed up the door behind him and walked over to [Y/N]. His scraggly hair and bewildered expression lessened into some devastated softness. He knelt, as he often did, in front of her and took her softer hands in his. “Can you tell me what happened?” Art asked quietly. He felt angry tears sting at the corner of his own traitorous eyes.

“We went out, got the cake, got smoothies, and came back. We… He didn’t say anything weird. Nothing happened.”

“Okay. And then?”

“No, I mean, nothing happened. Like, he was on his best behavior. Like, he was doing so well. He seemed okay. Really okay, y’know?” [Y/N]’s voice broke and finally betrayed her. She choked on her last words and the tears followed. Art’s right hand traveled up the side of [Y/N] face to rest there in comfort. “We talked about everything, like always. He was totally fine. I swear. Then we got home and he says I’m gonna take a shower, or something. And then I heard his car pull away. That’s it.”

“I’m gonna fucking murder him.” Art said, shaking his head and gritting his teeth. He stood from the floor and pulled his own phone out of his pocket. Art leaned against the table [Y/N] sat at. He called Patrick. Then he called him again. And another time. Up to what felt like twelve times or so. He left voicemail after voicemail.

“Hey, call me.”

“Hey, it’s Art. Call me.”

“Art again. Call me back. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry about the last one. Patrick, call me. Are you coming home?”

“Hey, man. Fuck you. Fuck off.”

“I’m sorry about the last one too. I’m… Understandably, I’m kinda… Fucking pissed at you. I don’t need to talk to you like that, though. Are you okay? Are you safe? What happened? You can talk to me.”

“You’re an asshole. I wish you could see the look on [Y/N]’s face right now.”

“Don’t come back.”

Eventually, the voicemail box was full.

[Y/N] reached wordlessly for Art’s hand. She could feel his rare anger climbing. He got this ridiculous blush across his cheeks when he got angry and she could see it against the sunset’s glow. “Art?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry this happened,” He said, turning his eyes to her. “I’m so sorry, hon.”

“It’s not your fault. You don’t have to apologize, pretty baby.”

“Yeah, but he’s my best friend. He’s your best friend,” He ranted. “That was a dick move to leave like that. I’m sorry that happened to you. He’s a piece of shit.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“No! I do. I do mean that. For the last year, he’s treated us, especially you like trash. Do you not see how much more you deserve, [Y/N]? I don’t know what’s going on with him… Do you?”

“He’s…” [Y/N] looked down. “You think he’s using again?”

Art didn’t say anything, he just looked down. That was answer enough. [Y/N] buried her face in her hands with a shuddering sob. Art pulled her to her feet and into his chest. He buried his face in her hair, unable to hold his own tears back. Eventually, the pair landed on the sagging green couch. Art’s legs wrapped around [Y/N]’s middle. They kept the news on all night. In case he matched an accident description. They called hospitals and hunted for John Does that were over six feet with dark hair and stubble.

“What are we gonna do? He’s… He’s not coming back, is he?” [Y/N] whispered. Cheese rested his heavy beige head on her thigh. He obviously didn’t understand why Patrick had gone either.

“No, I don’t think he is,” Art replied, lips against her forehead. “I’m sorry.

Pathetically, [Y/N] raised her head to Art. “I’m sorry too. I don’t know what I did.”

“You didn’t do anything.” He said. [Y/N] forced Art to lean back against the couch and she laid her head on his chest. Cheese circled for a new position where he could be touching them both at the same time.

[Y/N] knew it was a little bit her fault. She leaned up and kissed Art on the corner of his lips. “It’s my fault.”

“Then it’s both of our faults. You can’t talk about yourself like that. You’re the only you I’ve got, babe.” Art huffed tiredly.

[Y/N] dug her hands into Art’s hair the way he liked. “Can I fix your haircut? Haircut’s a generous way to describe it.”

“Damn, I was actually trying out this new thing. You don’t think it’s cool?”

“Yeah, it’s big for guys who blindly answer their wife’s phone calls, I hear.” [Y/N] said weakly.

Wife was all Art heard and he melted.

“I have never known someone I love as much as you,” Art said. “I’m all in with you. You know that, right?”

“‘Course I do.” [Y/N] did know. She sunk her teeth into the freckled skin on Art’s right shoulder gently and he moaned. Over top of the spot, [Y/N] left a trail of kisses down Art’s bicep.

“I’m gonna call his mom.” He said once [Y/N]’s pace had slowed. Art’s stomach growled. When he got upset, he didn’t eat. [Y/N] told herself it was because he had forgotten to in stressful moments, but wondered if it was a punishment instead. She pretending she hadn’t heard the sound.

“They don’t talk.”

“I know. Just in case he turns up.”

Patrick did turn up. About ten hours later, wet and unconscious in the emergency room. Following a psych eval, Patrick went to a short stint in rehab. He had gone once prior at the age of twenty. Needless to say Patrick missed the wedding. It was too much money to up and cancel, according to Art’s piece of shit stepfather, Douglas. Patrick made no efforts to contact the Donaldsons since leaving, as he left or following rehab. Despite all of Art and [Y/N]’s tireless efforts to find him, all they had to show for it was his disconnected phone number and a crippling feeling of shame and loss. Patrick had vanished from their lives without giving either one of them a say.

Patrick was gone.

But Art was there for all of it.

TAGLIST:

@toxiclovergirl @basicallynotbreathing @miniemonie2001 @valentine333 @tremendoushorsepeachbanana-blog @athxnss @babyspice6 @diorrfairy @donaldsonsdarling @muthafuckingstargirl @avylanchce @shysstuff @soberbabes @ysuftmikey @pussy-f41ry

[miryum]

"The Red Arrow"

Summary: Detective!Jason Todd x detective!Reader based on Jake and Amy's relationship

Series Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence (but nothing descriptive), guns and other police stuff

Series Masterlist

Mp/n: mispronounced name W/n: wrong name N/n: nickname

I combined two episodes- just a heads up

Y/n stood next to Cass behind the two-way glass, carefully watching a redhead sitting in the interrogation room. Jason stood silently in the corner. The redhead was a burly man, feet thrown up on the metal table, causally singing. “What’s going on?” Y/n scrunched her nose.

“Picked him up on more than a dozen counts of identity theft,” Cass said. “His name is Roy Harper. Ever seen him?”

“Nope. Although, I will admit, he’s one of the hotter perps. Definitely smash.” Jason grunted at Y/n’s words.

From inside the interrogation room, Roy sang, “Cassandra…. Cassandra…. Caaaassandraaaaaa…. oooooh yeah….” Y/n snickered and Jason couldn’t hold back a smirk.

Ignoring Roy, Cass said, “he said he wanted to talk to a Mp/n or W/n L/n. Whatever.”

“Why would he want me? And, should I change my name to W/n L/n? Cause it sounds super badass.”

“He said he has some info about someone with arrows?” Cass shrugged. 

“Arrows?” Y/n’s eyes widened. She muttered to herself, “he knows the Red Arrow.” She grabbed Cass by her shoulders and demanded, “listen to me. He specifically said he knows someone who uses arrows?”

“Yeah. I literally just said that.”

“Right, right, sorry.” A laugh bubbled out of Y/n. She practically ran into the interrogation room, Jason following on her heels. He wasn’t about to let her be alone with a criminal. Cass sighed and marched after them.

“So, I used to work in a pawn shop,” Roy explained after introductions. Y/n sat forward, hanging on to his every word. “Chill hours, absent boss, perfect place to snag jewels and stuff. Uh, not that I’ve ever done that,” he hurriedly added. Cass’ jaw twitched. “Anyway, this guy came in a lot, selling rubies.”

Y/n gasped. “Just like the Red Arrow!” she exclaimed. 

“I mean, we called him Miguel, but whatever.” Roy shrugged. 

“I’ve been chasing this guy for six years!” Y/n turned to look at Jason and Cass, explaining her passion for this random thief. “He always steals red rubies from high tech jewellery stores and spray paints a red arrow before he leaves, hence the name. He never left any evidence and he’s never been caught on camera. He’s a ghost!”

“Super ghost,” Roy whispered, eyes gleaming.

“Super ghost!” Y/n yelled out, agreeing. 

“Before anything else happens, we need to know this guy’s legit,” Jason said. “Describe him.”

“Uh…” Roy hummed. “Mexican dude, maybe 5’8”? He has this pointy little beard and always wears a purple tie.”

“So would you say he looks sort of like,” Y/n whipped up a drawing of the man Roy was describing. “This?”

Roy winked. “There‘s that sexy motherfucker, Miguel.”

“This is a composite sketch from ten interviews I've done,” Y/n said in awe. “A perfect match.”

Cass wasn’t satisfied. “So all you know is what a bunch of other idiots have said over the years. Big whoop. Anything else?”

“Yeah.” Roy sat back and his teeth flashed as he grinned. “I know how to get in touch with him.”

Y/n gasped and emphasised, “Roy Harper!” Jason clicked his tongue, unimpressed.

“Ah, Brown. Just the woman I was looking for.” Captain Wayne stopped by Stephanie’s desk, looking down at her. “Clark has accepted an offer to teach at the University of Florence for the next six months.”

“Oh, I love Italy,” Steph said, still unsure as to why her Captain was telling her this.

“Clark and I belong to the Park Slope Racquet Club, where we've established a squash doubles dynasty.” Bruce explained, “we've taken home the trophy two years in a row. Unfortunately, he’ll be flying to Florence this year during the tournament. I remember you told me you played in college…” he trailed off and glanced at Steph hopefully.

“Three-time intramural champion at Sarah Lawrence,” Steph said proudly. “Would have been four, but senior year I played Lord Farquaad in our school's production of ‘Shrek.’”

Wayne hummed, unsure of how to respond. “In any case, I would be honoured if you would take Clark’s place so that I could still compete.”

Stephanie blanched, yet offered a thumbs up. “Absolutely! I would love to do that!”

“Fantastic,” Wayne said.

“Yup! That is great. This is great.” She slowly stood and manoeuvred over to Dick’s desk before collapsing in a seat next to him. “This is terrible.”

“Why? You’ve always said you wanted more quality time with Wayne.” Dick set down his pen.

“No, not like this,” Steph shook her head. “Squash brings out my competitive side. Breaking racquets, cursing, excessive use of the bird.” Her eyes widened in fear. “One time, just to psych a guy out, I locked eyes with him and ate a squash ball.”

“That's not possible.”

"I can still feel it rolling around in me, Dick.”

“Look, the point is to have fun,” he tried to reassure her. “So just relax and have fun.”

“Right, right, right, yeah. I mean, it's just a game. It's fun. There's no need for Wayne to see me unleash the beast.” She laughed nervously. “Okay.”

“The burner phone that Roy uses to contact the Red Arrow is at his house.” Y/n pressed her hands together and pointed at Captain Wayne, a hopeful look plastered on her face. “He's agreed to help us catch the Arrow if…. We drop all charges against him,” she said quickly, almost as she hoped her superior didn’t hear her.

Captain Wayne sat behind his desk, analysing his detectives. “How many rubies would you say this Red Arrow has stolen?”

“Fifty-eight, that I know of.” Y/n said, “but the real number could be in the thousands!”

Wayne squinted at Y/n. “You’re not very good at maths,” he stated. Turning to Cass, he asked, “what are the charges against Harper?”

“Thirteen counts of identity theft, but I’ve been chasing him for more than a month.”

“A month?” Y/n scoffed. “I’ve been chasing the Red Arrow for more than six years. Do you know how many months that is?” 

“Seventy-two,” Wayne answered instantly. 

Y/n pursed her lips and murmured, “Ten…? Five and seven… and four years… wait, months?”

“Do you need a maths tutor?” Captain Wayne asked. “Because the department will provide one.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious,” Y/n muttered.

“I’m on the fence,” Wayne admitted, returning to the matter at hand. “Cain, you caught him. It’s your call.”

“Cass,” Y/n turned to her friend, practically begging. “This guy is for real. One thousand pushups.”

Cass’ eyebrows shot up. “One thousand pushups? Alright. I’m in.” She shrugged. 

“What’s one thousand pushups?” Bruce asked.

Y/n explained, “we were in the academy together and hated the drills. So now, when we're on a case, if one of us says one thousand pushups, it means ‘I'm so sure I'm right that if I'm wrong, I'll do one thousand pushups.’”

“It’s a pact we made,” Cass added. “It means ‘trust me.’ And I do,” she added with a smile. 

Wayne nodded. “Make the deal.”

Y/n cheered, “yes! I’ve got you now, Red Arrow! Wow! It feels good to say that in front of actual people instead of the mirror. Okay! Let’s grab the burner, contact and catch the Arrow, and become police legends.”

Later, Roy stood in front of his house, flanked by Y/n and Cass, the latter in her signature leather jacket. “Babysitter’s car is here,” he said. “They’re home.”

“Babysitter?” Y/n scrunched her nose. “You have a kid?”

“Yeah,” Roy beamed. “Little girl called Lian. Can I take my cuffs off?”

“No,” Cass deadpanned.

“Lian doesn’t know I’m a criminal!” Roy protested. “She thinks I own a construction company.”

“Why stop there?” Y/n shrugged. “Tell her you’re an astronaut.”

“Nah, man,” Roy shook his head. “Space is scary. You saw what it did to Matt Damon. I don’t wanna staple my skin together.”

“You got a point.” Y/n shot Cass a look. “Come on, Cain.”

Cass huffed and rolled her eyes. “You can play-act with your daughter for three minutes until we get the burner. One false move and I tase you in front of your daughter,” she threatened.

“Geez, dude. Harsh,” Y/n sucked in a breath. She mouthed towards Roy, “Don’t worry, she loves me too much to do that.” Roy nodded back dramatically. 

He unlocked the door and a small voice shouted out, “Daddy!” A tumbling mess of toddler came barreling down the hall and into Roy’s arms. Y/n cooed, heart melting. Roy grunted, picking Lian up and spinning her around. 

“Hey, baby! How you doing?”

“Good! Lois and I were playing Veterinarian.”

“Ooh! Sounds fun. Where is Lois?” Roy looked around.

“Cleaning up!” A voice shouted from down the hall. 

“Why aren’t you at work?” Lian asked. “And who are they?” She pointed at Y/n and Cass and Roy gently reminded her it’s rude to point. 

“They’re my coworkers!” Roy snickered, “Cass is a director on my board of directors and Y/n is my financial planner.”

Y/n winced and hummed, “yes. Stocks and numbers. Money. Very important. Did you know that four twenty-five dollar bills equal a hundred dollar bill?” Cass simply sighed and rubbed her temples. “Speaking of which,” Y/n said, noting her friend’s expression, “we should find that phone. So we can get back to building… buildings.”

“Right, right.” Roy let Lian down and said, “it’s in the spare bedroom.” 

“I’ll go with you,” Y/n volunteered. “Cass can stay here with Lian and Lois.” Cass glared at her, but agreed. 

Roy led Y/n through the house, waving to Lois and asking about Lian’s day. The spare bedroom was filled to the brim with toys and stuffed animals from Lian and memorabilia from Roy’s younger days. Roy dug the out burner phone and presented it to Y/n who quickly typed out a message. “Back in the game,” she narrated. “When can we meet up?”

“Ooh, you’re good at this criminal thing,” Roy commented. “If you ever wanna quit your cop thing, I could use your intelligence.”

“Aw, thanks man. How long until he usually responds?”

“Like, ten minutes?” Roy shot her a look. “Chill, dude.”

“I can’t chill!” Y/n bounced up and down. “I've never been this close before.”

“I gotta admit, your enthusiasm makes me want you to catch him.”

Y/n placed a sincere hand to her heart. “Thank you.” She noticed a pile of DVDs in the corner. “You still have those?”

“Yeah. I robbed a store a couple years back and kept my favourites.”

Y/n crouched down and scanned the titles. “Goonies, Princess Bride… The Sandlot! Dude! You have the best taste in movies!”

“Gotta have the classics,” Roy said. “Yes, ma’am, the American stories of promise and inspiration.”

“Inconceivable,” Y/n muttered, grinning.

“I’m not sure that word means what you think it means,” Roy said in a stilted accent. 

“Hey, you guuuuys!” They crowed together.

“Hurry up, Benny! My clothes are going outta style!” Roy quoted. 

“They already are!” Y/n cried back, both giggling. 

“Hey,” Cass stepped into the room. “You guys having fun?” Lian gripped onto the detective’s hand, smiling brightly. Cass’s eyes screamed, 'Cause I’m not. Her hair was decorated in braids and she looked as if she wanted to rip them out. 

The phone suddenly chimed and Y/n practically dropped it trying to see the Red Arrow’s response. “Parking lot on Flatbush and Vanderbilt in 15 minutes. Let's go.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Roy held up his hands. “Cain looks like a dirty criminal. But you,” he pointed accusingly at Y/n who still wore her GCPD jacket, “look like a cop, man. You can't go over there like that.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “...What'd you have in mind?”

A couple minutes later, Y/n stepped out of Roy’s house wearing a striped shirt and jeans with a white suit buttoned in the middle, sleeves rolled up. Y/n giggled, a moment away from breaking out into laughter. “I don't look like a cop now.”

“No, you look like Backstreet Boys meets Jonas Brothers,” Cass said.

Roy laughed, “Burn!”

Y/n shook her head, “Nah, that's not a burn, that's cool.” As they walked to the parking lot, she commented, “Not gonna lie, the suit is kinda growing on me.”

Cass grunted, glaring out the parking lot. “There’s no one here. L/n…” 

“A thousand pushups,” Y/n said softly. Cass took a slow, deep breath and nodded once. 

“Incoming,” Roy hissed, eyebrows up and hands in pockets. “Who the hell are you?” he cried to the man walking towards them, very clearly not Miguel. “Where's Miguel?” Y/n frowned and eyed Cass. 

“He hadn't heard from you in a while, so he sent me to make sure everything was cool,” the man said, shrugging.

“Apparently it's not,” Y/n muttered, kicking the pebbles at her feet. She had been so close. 

“Who are they?” The man nodded to Y/n and Cass, glaring.

“They're with me,” Roy said. “This is the buyer. Rosa Santiago.” He gestured towards Y/n.

The man shook his head. “I don't know ‘em, I don't trust ‘em.” He stated his terms, “He meets with you alone or it's off. I'll text the address.” 

The man walked away, not giving them another option. Once he was out of earshot, Y/n groaned, “Come on! I promise you this: they have not heard the last of Rosa Santiago!” She shook her fist at the back of the retreating man. She pivoted to face Roy and Cass and announced, “Okay, it's worth the risk. We send him in alone.”

Cass argued, “no, we don’t! Something doesn't smell right to me.”

Roy shrugged. “Could be my dad's suit. He died in it.”

Y/n’s eyes widened. “He died in it?! Wait… this is a man’s suit? Why does it fit me so well…?”

Roy’s burner phone pinged and he said, “they just sent the location.” He studied his phone and exhaled loudly. “Man, this dude is cautious. If I show up one minute late or I'm not alone, he is done with me.” He pursed his lips and said to Y/n, “this is your last shot.”

Y/n shook her head and picked at her skin. “I can't let the Red Arrow get away.” After a moment of contemplating, she decided, “put a wire on him, get a tactical team in as backup.” She begged Cass, “please, it's the only way.” When the older detective didn’t look impressed, Y/n tried to convince her. “Harper and I know this guy. You have to trust us.”

Cain scoffed. “Do I? One of you is a criminal, and the other one is dressed like a knockoff of fucking Steve Harvey.” She poked her tongue in her cheek and decreed, “it's over. I'm ending this now.” She sighed. “Sorry, Y/n. Truly, I am.”

Y/n stared at her and couldn’t help but cross her arms. ”Seriously, Cain?”

“Yeah.” She repeated the words Y/n had promised earlier, “one thousand pushups.”

Y/n’s chin jutted up. “Well, I raise you. Two thousand pushups.”

“What?” Cass frowned. “That's not how this works. I said "one thousand pushups.” You have to back me up, L/n. That's the pact; end of story.”

“Well, I break the pact,” Y/n said abruptly. “Cass, I hope you understand how serious this is to me.” She whined in a deep voice, “Can't you read between the lines, man?”

“Don't quote Die Hard.”

“Sorry. But we're still sending him in alone.”

Captain Wayne wore shorts and a t-shirt, something Steph was still getting used to seeing. She, however, was on the sidelines, fiddling with her racquet. “You ready, Brown? Psyched up?”

“No, why?” she asked. “Do I seem psyched? 'Cause I'm definitely not. I- I just want to have fun!” She ran a hand through her hair.

“And to win,” Wayne reminded her slowly. 

“Hey hey hey!” Steph shrugged dramatically, pulling at her shirt. “If we all have fun and don't throw any racquets and don't eat squash balls, then we're all winners.”

“What?!”

“Nothing. I'll serve.” 

The game started with Stephanie serving and after a couple hits, their opponent called, “out.”

“What?” Steph shouted. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?” Then, as if a switch flipped in her head, she gave a high-pitched chuckle and gritted her teeth. “That was... fun. That was a fun call. You're a real fun guy, fun guy. This is fun! This is fun! Right?” Her knuckles turned white on her racquet.

Y/n prepped Roy Harper in the back of a police van. “We need evidence, so get him talking,” she encouraged him. “Ask questions about money, jewels, specifics.”

Roy clenched his jaw and shook his head. “I'm getting kind of nervous, man. This dude is for real. You sure you have everything covered?”

“Yeah. There's a guy on the back door, eyes on the side door, and two dudes on the corner. You'll be fine.”

“What about choppers?” Roy asked. “Do you have access to choppers? With snipers and rockets and shit?”

“No one has rocket choppers,” Cain deadpanned.

“Although that does sound amazing,” Y/n added, eyes lighting up with the possibilities.

“We got eyes on the Arrow.” A voice announced through a walkie talkie. “He's a block and a half away.”

“You ready?” Y/n asked Roy.

Roy nodded. “You and me, N/n. We were born ready.”

“Yeah! Go, Roy, go! You got this! Show me your game face! Whoo!” Y/n hyped him up as he exited the van, clapping him on the shoulders. Once the doors had closed behind Roy, she turned to Cass and stage-whispered, “his game face makes him look constipated.” 

Y/n leaned over the audio transmitter and muttered, “we meet at last, Red Arrow. For six years I've tracked you. And today I'm taking you down.” She said into the microphone, “Roy Harper, can you hear me? Say something to test the wire.”

“Hey, Cain, after we put the cuffs on this guy,” Roy waggled his eyebrows. “I'll be free for dinner. And I’m sure Lian would love another playmate. What do you say?”

“The mic works,” is all Cass said. 

“Miguel! What's up?” 

Roy called out and another voice filtered through. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

Roy rambled, “let's talk about jewels. I’m working at the shop again. I can deal with anything you want. Red jewels, blue jewels, one jewel, two jewels. Jewels are really great, aren't they? Real pretty.”

“What is he doing?” Cain asked in disbelief.

“Talking about jewels,” Y/n said as if it was obvious.

“You know what else is great about jewels?” Roy continued, “The way they look. They’re just so pretty.”

Cass shook her head. “That's it. I'm calling it.”

“No!” Y/n shrieked.

“Move, people, we're going in now.” She banged open the door and the other officers ran onto the scene. “On your knees! Hands on your head!” In the basement where the deal was going down, they surrounded a man who was Mexican, maybe 5’8”, had a pointy little beard, and wore a purple tie. He was clutching a thick briefcase and nervously complied with their demands, dropping the briefcase.

“Gotcha, Red Arrow,” Y/n’s chest bloomed with excitement and pride, having finally caught her prize. “Wait, where's Roy Harper?”

“Uh, he went to the bathroom.” The man stammered, unsure if this was all a trick. “I- I'm just here to cut his hair. I don't know what's going on.”

Y/n hummed, “A likely story, Red Arrow…” She bent down and opened the briefcase, revealing scissors, razors, and other supplies. “But you actually do have a lot of hair products.”

“He's gone. He ran,” Cass confirmed.

“Why would he do that?” Y/n exclaimed. “He helped us catch the Red Arrow. That was the deal. This doesn't make any sense unless…” Her mouth fell open and she realised, “Roy Harper is the Red Arrow.” 

As Y/n stood there, shocked, Cass immediately jumped into action. “Put out an APB. Seal off everything for a 20-block radius.”

The audio transmitter beeped and Roy’s voice said, “Yeah, don't bother looking for me. I'm in the wind.” He made a ‘whoosing’ noise into the microphone.

“If you're close enough for me to hear you, you're close enough for me to catch you!” Y/n called back.

“Nah, I got a relay set up, sister.”

“So if you're the Red Arrow, who's this dude?” Y/n asked.

“Well, a couple of years ago you were getting really close, so I started telling all my peeps that if they ever get caught, they should say I’m Mexican, 5’8”, have a pointy beard and always wears a purple tie.”

Y/n nodded stoically. “So then you hired a guy who matched that exact description….”

Roy laughed. “No, no, no, no, no, no. That's my barber, Miguel Barragan. He gave me the idea.”

Miguel was cutting Roy’s hair and commented, “you know, if you can't come in, I do house calls. You just text me a location and I could be there in half an hour.”

Roy beamed. “Good to know.”

“You know, you should actually use him while he's there. He'll give you a crazy good fade. Lian says he… layers her hair? I don’t know.”

“I get crazy good layers from my current barber, thank you very much.” Y/n deduced, “So you dragged us over here, went in there, pretended to talk, and then snuck out the basement. Am I right?”

Roy squealed. “The basement connected to another basement! Which connected to a garage, which is where my boy picked me up with Lian.” 

“Your boy? Oh, that guy from the meet-up. He works for you.” Y/n rolled her sleeves up and tugged at a strand of her hair. “He pretended to be spooked by me and Cain in the parking lot to make sure we let you go to the next meeting by yourself.”

“Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding! You win a prize!”

“You lied to me, Roy Harper,” Y/n whispered dramatically, somewhat hurt and somewhat impressed.

“You brought your daughter along?” Cass mumbled. 

“Gotta be honest, I'm pretty disappointed right now,” Y/n shook her head.

“Sorry it had to go down this way, L/n.” To his credit, Roy sounded a little sad. “Maybe we could've been friends in another world.” He paused then cackled. “If I hadn't just fooled you like a little- Lian, cover your ears- bitch!” An engine revved in the background. “Bitch!”

Y/n shouted back before the line when dead, “You use that mouth to kiss your daughter, Harper?!”

“Brown.” Captain Wayne approached his teammate after a particular gruelling and unfortunate match. “Is everything okay, uh, with your brain?”

“Yeah yeah. I'm great,” Steph said. “I am having… a lot of fun.”

“Yes, I’m sure, given as you’ve said that one hundred and forty three times today.” Wayne pulled her aside and reminded her, “you do realise that if we lose this next match, we're out of the tournament?”

“Yes, but the important thing is we had a good time.”

“No!” Wayne yelled. ”The important thing is that we win the trophy! I promised Clark before he left for Italy that we would do that.” He sighed before admitting, “do you know why I chose you as my partner?”

“Because I'm the most athletic person you know?” Steph’s voice ended in a high pitched question. 

“No, otherwise I would chose Todd. I chose you because of an article I read in the "Sarah Lawrence Phoenix" about a young woman they called ‘squash's unhinged lunatic.’” He pokes her in the chest for extra measure.

Stephanie swallowed harshly. “I- I haven't a clue what you're talking about, Captain.”

“According to that article,” Wayne said, ”that lunatic was 27-0. I need her on my team. I need you… to unleash the beast.”

Steph’s eyes grew wide and she inhaled sharply. Captain Wayne’s smile was just as sharp.

“Whoo!” Steph paraded into the court. “You butternuts ready to get squashed?” Their opponents stared at her and she mocked them. "’Huh? What? Duh?’ That's gonna be you guys while I smoke your butts, because Brucie and the Beast don't even give a what.” She sang the last word and waved her arms dramatically.

Bruce repeated stoically, ”we don't give a what.”

“Unh-uh. Whoo! Let's do this.”

The matches went on, and with the Beast unleashed, Stephanie and Bruce won every single one- not without earning a reputation.

“Boo-ya-kah, suckers!” 

Whenever someone called her shot out, Steph had a few choice words. “You kidding me? Are you kidding me?”

But when they won a point, she was enthusiastically crazed, even to the point where she slapped Captain Wayne on the butt. “Way to go! That's it, baby!”

Y/n approached Cass’s desk. “Hey,” she mumbled. “So… I went back to his house. Unsurprisingly a dead end.”

“I have a lot of work to do, L/n,” Cass said firmly, standing up to leave.

“Wait. I want to say something.” Y/n sighed and began, “we've worked together long enough to know that you hate apologies. So, I just wanted to ask you to join the Roy Harper case. Officially, as partners. I wanna catch this guy and I can't do it without you.”

“No, you can't,” Cass agreed.

“Now I believe I owe you one thousand pushups.” Y/n grimaced.

Cass gave her friend a small smile. “I don't care about the pushups, Y/n. I care that you didn't honour our pact. I've always trusted you, and when you went against me, it made me feel like you don't trust me.”

“I know and I'm sorry. It won't happen again,” Y/n promised.

“No, it won't. Now get down on the floor.”

What?” Y/n yelped. “You just said you didn't care about the pushups!”

“I changed my mind.”

Taking a long breath, the detective said, “Fair enough. A pact's a pact.” She nodded at Cass, knowing she couldn’t back down. Y/n shed her jacket, stared Cass in the eye, and stooped to the ground, beginning to honour her deal. “One, two, three…”

“Two hundred and sixty nine…”

“Heh. Sixty-nine.” Damian chuckled as he sauntered by, snapping a picture of his best friend. “I’m using this for blackmail,” he shouted back at her.

“Okay!” Y/n gave him a weak thumbs up before going back to her pushups.

“Five hundred and thirteen…”

Jason walked past her, calling out, “Night, L/n.”

“Night. Five hundred and fourteen…” she panted.

“Hey, Derek,” Y/n greeted the night janitor. Derek waved back. “One thousand…” she did one more pushup before whining the rest of her sentence. “Is so many pushups! I'm never gonna make it.” She shouted out, “What am I at?”

Captain Wayne marched by. “Nine hundred and one.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“You said two thousand, remember?”

“Argh! I should've trusted you, Ca-a-a-in!” she sobbed loudly, a stripe of sweat staining the back of her shirt. 

“Clark, there's something we'd like to show you.” Stephanie and Captain Wayne day in front of his computer, face-timing with Bruce’s husband, Clark.

“Ta-da!” Steph held up the trophy proudly.

“Ah, magnificent.” Clark said from Italy. “The trophy is ours! I look forward to getting number four next year.”

“Actually, we've been banned for life from all future tournaments.” Wayne sucked air in through his teeth, leaning back in his chair.

“Oh, geez. What happened?”

Stephanie popped back into screen. “My fault, Clark.” The bruises on her arms and legs confirmed her words. “I snapped the second-place trophy over my knee and threw it in a toilet.”

“...Oh, my.”

“Yeah.”

“But the important thing is, we had fun,” Bruce smiled softly.

“Yeah,” Stephanie agreed.

“I don’t want to do it,” Dick said. “She’s not my problem.” 

“She’s literally your problem,” Steph rolled her eyes. “You’re her sergeant.”

“And as your sergeant,” Dick said. “I command you to take care of L/n.” 

Stephanie glared at him. “You’re abusing your powers, Grayson,” she whispered ominously. “Get Todd to do it!” 

“Todd’s already taken care of her,” Dick nodded to Jason who had placed a doughnut and a cup of coffee on Y/n’s desk and a blanket over Y/n’s sleeping form. He had attempted to place a pillow under her head, but when he tried, Y/n had grumbled and whined. Jason didn’t want to disturb her, so he just left her on the floor. Every moment or so, Jason would glance down at Y/n to make sure she was still sleeping peacefully and a loud noise hadn’t roused her. 

“They really are idiots,” Steph muttered. 

“Yeah,” Dick sighed. “They are.”

[maya1525]

SUCK ~ & ~ F*CK 😋🍾

✩ Featuring Kokichi Muta or Mechamaru ✩

18+MDNI

Pairing✩࿐Fem!Reader X Kokichi Muta (Mechamaru)

WARNINGS✩࿐Fem!Reader giving oral, unprotected vaginal sex, male virginity loss, cream pie, sex in front of others, language

Word count✩࿐2.2k

Summary✩࿐This is based on my original post: SUCK ~ GUESS ~ F*CK. But you know ahead of time whose dick is in your slutty mouth. Kokichi drew the King of Spades ♠️

A/N✩࿐Ngl, 🤭 as soon as that episode came out of Kokichi getting his body healed by Mahito DID something to me. I just had to write a smutty fic of him loosing his virginity to the reader! Feedback is highly appreciated, I love reading your comments! 😙💖

“The game is quite simple.” Gojo stated in a matter-of-fact tone, “You’re going to be blindfolded and will have to guess which man's dick is in your mouth. If you guess incorrectly, the man gets to choose which position to fuck you in. If you guess correctly, then you get to choose the position. To keep things interesting, you’ll suck dick for three minutes and get fucked for seven.”

You nodded your understanding as you sat on the large and cushy futon in Gojo’s apartment. He had planned on fucking you alone tonight, but your boyfriends wanted in on the action, plus they thought it would be a good idea to invite two of their friends, Mechamaru and Noritoshi.

You felt your cheeks warm up with excitement, never in your life, you’ve felt so deeply desired before. Everyone’s eyes were on you, especially because you wore a revealing teddy one-piece. Satoru bought it for you, and it complimented your figure perfectly. He even put a stunning custom collar on you, with a diamond-covered ‘S’ on it.

You couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed to be this exposed in front of Noritoshi and Mechamaru. You were familiar with both of these men, but you were still getting used to human Mechamaru. Muta was on the leaner side compared to your boyfriends, he had sharp features and a large and noticeable scar on his upper cheek. While Kamo on the other hand always seemed like a strong and serious leader among his comrades. The thought that he yearned for you just as much as your boyfriends made you wonder what he would be like when he fucked you. The thought made you anticipate his turn.

While you thought about those two men, your eyes were subconsciously drawn to both of them. Noritoshi sat on the far side of the sectional, his heated gaze stared you down hungrily. Beside him sat your boyfriend Megumi with a starved look in his midnight blue eyes. Next sat Itadori, he eyed you with such desperation, that it looked as if he was going to jump off the couch any second to get to you. Next to him sat Satoru smugly, his eyes gleamed playfully in your direction. Beside him was Muta, he eyed shyly with a faint blush on his face. To his left sat Yuuta and Inumaki, Toge was leaning into the couch comfortably, his violet-colored eyes sparkling over your stunning body with admiration and Yuuta had a similar look of awe on his face.

“Ok Y/n, I’m going to put this on you if you’re ready,” Satoru murmured, his gorgeous blue eyes gleaming down at you, while he wrapped his black blindfold around your eyes.

You were shocked at how you couldn’t even see small streams of light through it. You had always assumed that it was sheer fabric and that Gojo could slightly see through it, but you were mistaken. Satoru’s amazing Six Eyes technique is one to behold, he certainly is the strongest jujitsu sorcerer.

“OK, now that her eyes are covered, I’m going to hand each of you a playing card. Whoever draws the highest card gets to go first.” Satoru explained nonchalantly, as the sound of him shuffling the cards expertly made itself known in your ears.

After a short moment of listening to each man shift on the couch to get their card, Gojo spoke. “Now let’s reveal our cards.” You heard a few small sighs of excitement from some of the men, and you also heard some hisses of displeasure, assuming that they would have to wait a while until their turn.

Soon enough your ears picked up on the sound of someone coming towards you. You felt this man's warm hand gently caress your cheek. His fingers were nimble, could this be Inumaki? You quickly ruled out the guys you knew who had larger hands. You heard him fumble with his zipper as he struggled to lower his pants. He’s probably nervous… you thought.

You felt the head of his dick softly rub against your kissable lips. You decided to examine his cock with lips, as you brought your right hand up to his shaft. The girth of his dick wasn’t familiar. He seemed to have a very thick cock. You felt your pussy warm up with want at the width of this man’s shaft.

You grazed your lips along the left side of his penis. You managed to get a whiff of his scent, he smelt like clean clothes with a hint of light and airy cologne. His scent wasn’t any of your boyfriends… so you promptly ruled out Inumaki from your mind. Inumaki smelt fresh with a more detectable fragrant cologne.

You brought your mouth back to the tip of his dick and gave him a sweet and juicy kiss. You immediately felt the head of his cock ache towards you.

“Mmh-“ he whimpered from his throat. You could already taste his precum on the tip of your tongue. You greedily latched onto his thick and delicious rod. You sucked him off masterly, you made sure to lap your tongue on the underside of his cock in the process. You felt his fingers tangle into your hair impulsively.

“Ahh-“ he groaned quietly as he lost himself in the heavenly feeling of your mouth. He struggled to stay quiet and you were able to hear small barely audible moans escape from his lips.

Muta looked down at your beautiful face sucking his dick so perfectly, he’s never felt something so wonderful before. A faint blush crept across his face, it felt slightly embarrassing that he was experiencing this in front of his friends. The other males flashed him smirks and gave him slaps on the back of encouragement.

The way you moved your lips and tongue around his cock felt absolutely heavenly. He found it difficult to keep quiet with your hot mouth working on him.

Without meaning to, you whimpered onto his dick, due to the thought of how hot this situation may look. You couldn’t help but feel yourself dampen even more. You began to grow more impatient, you wanted this man to fuck you already. His small sighs and groans of delight didn’t help much either. It turned you on even more, you could tell he was trying his best to not make any noise, but your sinful mouth made that impossible. Suddenly you felt his hands lightly pull your face away from his rod.

“Has it been three minutes already?” You spoke out quietly.

“Yeah.” He whispered.

“So I’m guessing you’re… Mechamaru?” You questioned as you lowered Gojo’s blindfold from your eyes.

You were greeted by the pleasant sight of Kokichi standing above you with a desperate look on his face. His cheeks had a faint pink tint on them and it seemed like he couldn’t catch his breath.

You smiled up at him triumphantly, “Yes, I guessed it right!” You beamed up at him cutely as you rapidly guided Muta down to the couch. You maneuvered yourself so you sat on his lap, and he stammered underneath you nervously. You helped him unbutton his shirt and traced your dainty hands across his lean body. You didn’t want to embarrass him in front of the other guys, so you brought your mouth to his ear and whispered ever so quietly, “You’re a virgin aren’t you?”

Mechamaru gasped with surprise at your bold question, “Y-yeah…” he said softly through his teeth.

“Then I’ll ride you.” You murmured seductively as you licked the shell of his ear, causing him to quiver underneath you. You noticed his hands were respectfully at his sides, so you gently guided them to your waist. His fingers slightly fidgeted against the lacy fabric of your lingerie. “Have you ever kissed anyone before?” You muttered in his ear, while your hands trailed their way down his torso. You’ve never felt so dominant before and you were loving the power you had over him.

“No, I haven’t.” He exhaled, as his sharp brown eyes stared at you with an insatiable hunger.

With that being said you delicately pressed your lips against his. He froze up with shock as you kissed him. He didn’t move his lips against yours, and you noticed he was holding his breath. You tenderly kissed his upper lip so he could kiss your plump lower one. His mouth moved cautiously as he got used to the feeling of kissing. You brought your other hand to the back of his neck and tangled your slim fingers in his thin black hair.

Kokichi was ecstatic to share his first kiss with you. He admired your soft-spoken and gentle personality. He secretly thought that you were the most alluring girl he’d ever met. He felt a prick of insecurity because you had three boyfriends though. He wondered if his lack of experience would deter you. He feared that you were only kissing him out of pity.

On the other hand, you thought the opposite; when it came to romance you were typically the bottom. Now’s your chance to take the lead and corrupt this innocent man right in front of you. Your hand grabbed ahold of his thick rod and you rubbed the head of his dick against your clothed pussy lips. You enjoyed the friction of the head of his dick brushing against your clit. You were able to quickly feel his precum dampen your underwear from the outside.

“Will it even fit in there?” Muta questioned sincerely, with a genuine look of curiosity on his face.

You flashed him a mischievous smile as a wave of encouragement set flame in your veins. You swiftly pushed the fabric that covered your pussy lips to the side and lowered yourself onto his raging rod. He was one of the thickest dicks you’ve ever taken and he stretched you out almost painfully. Mechamaru let out a surprised groan, you felt his fingernails dig into your waist as your tight pussy enveloped him entirely.

“Fuck…” Muta hissed under his breath, you were incredibly tight and wet. Your juices soaked his dick once he was completely lodged inside of you.

“Mmm-Mechamaru…” You moaned out at the delicious feeling of his rod being wedged in your horny hole. The slight ache of his broad dick straining your cunt, quickly melted away into hot pleasure. You began to swivel your hips against his sexily, loving the feel of his dick jolting around inside of you.

You studied Kokichi’s handsome face as you ground yourself onto him. His narrowed brown eyes gleamed lustfully into yours. He clenched his jaw with focus as he began to instinctively hump his dick up into you. His hips moved sloppily due to his inexperience, but that didn’t bother you. You loved his enthusiasm and how he was visibly enjoying you.

Mechamaru was on cloud nine, he would have never dreamed of this ever happening; his whole life he knew nothing but pain and suffering. His previous disabled and broken body prevented him from having a comfortable life. Every day was agony and he knew he’d trade anything to just be normal; so when that miraculous opportunity made itself known to him, he accepted without hesitation.

Right now in this very moment, Mechamaru was fully relishing in you. You looked like a beautiful angel in his eyes, especially because you made him feel such amazing bliss. His gaze lowered to your glorious bouncing breasts as you hopped on his dick like a bunny. You noticed his wondering eyes and guided his hands to your squishy boobs with a seductive smile. He held them in awe as if they were the most precious things he’d ever had the experience of feeling. He leaned forward and crashed his lips against yours with heated passion. He was speechless at how incredible you felt, and he felt an unfamiliar urgency in his lower region. Was he about to cum?

Even though you were in a room full of other guys, and their starved eyes burned holes towards the both of you, they all melted away. You had your full attention on Mechamaru. The way he bullied his dick up inside of you made you whine uncontrollably. You had no idea that he could have such a girthy and appetizing cock. Muta gripped your hips firmly and began to bounce you on his dick while he pounded you ruthlessly.

You were taken aback by his sudden strength and power, which caused your pussy to leak all over his length. Kokichi felt you dampen tremendously while he took control, which made him quickly realize you enjoyed being manhandled.

“Oh, yes!” You moaned out in delight while Mechamaru fucked you good. Due to how saturated you were, his cock slid in and out of you scrumptiously. You lowered your mouth to his neck to leave little possessive marks on his flawless skin. You knew for a fact that you’d love to enjoy him again.

Kokichi couldn’t handle it anymore, you felt so inviting to his horny dick, and he burst deep inside of you and choked out a surprised moan. You felt his cock throb as he shot his first spurts of cum into your slippery walls.

“Mmh-Kay you two, it’s been seven minutes,” Satoru announced huskily from a few feet away. Reminding you that other men were watching you two like hungry wolves and they were patiently waiting their turns.

Next

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Doctor Marathon (Fluff)

Bayverse!Donatello x reader

A short one with Donnie boy💜

I am a pretty big Doctor Who fan myself, and I refuse to believe Donatello wouldn’t like it. So here you get a nice evening cuddle on the couch with Donnie, watching some Doctor Who💜

Warnings: None, not even Doctor Who spoilers.

—-------------------------------------------

The soft glow of the TV illuminated the lair, casting a warm ambiance on the makeshift living room. Donatello and you were snuggled up on the couch, a cozy blanket draped over your entwined legs, a bowl of popcorn in Donnie’s lap, and enough juice boxes on the table to last you the rest of the evening. All of Donnie’s brothers and Master Splinter had retreated to their bedrooms for the night, leaving you and Donatello alone for your impromptu date night. It was a rare night when the chaos of the city above ground seemed to dissipate, leaving the two of you in a quiet sanctuary.

Donatello's three-fingered hand held the TV remote, scrolling through various options until he settled on one of his favorite shows – Doctor Who. He turned to you with a gleam in his eyes, his excitement palpable, as the still image of the 11th Doctor and Amy Pond illuminated the screen.

"Ready for some timey-wimey adventures, (Y/N)?" Donatello grinned, adjusting his glasses.

You chuckled, knowing damn well he quoted the wrong Doctor on purpose. "Always, Donnie. Your taste in TV shows is impeccable", you said, faking a British accent that made Donnie smile.

As the familiar theme music of Doctor Who filled the lair, you leaned against Donatello, feeling the comforting presence of his strong green arm around you. The show began, and you found yourself enthralled by the Doctor's - in this case Matt Smith - escapades through time and space.

"Imagine if we could time travel", Donatello mused, his voice soft, watching the Doctor run around the spaceship he, Amy and Rory found themself in. "We could go back and witness some of the most incredible moments in history".

You smiled. "Or forward, to see what the future holds. It'd be an adventure, for sure".

Donatello nodded, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your waist. The two of you settled into a comfortable silence, engrossed in the unfolding narrative on the screen.

At times, Donatello couldn't help but analyze the science fiction aspects of the show, sharing his thoughts with you. You listened attentively, reveling in the passion that shone in his eyes when he discussed the possibilities of time travel. That came with having a tech genius for a boyfriend. He just couldn’t help himself, and you found it adorable.

As the episode reached a particularly emotional moment, you felt Donatello's grip on your waist tighten slightly. Glancing up, you met his gaze, and there was a vulnerability in his eyes that made your heart swell with affection.

"I'm so grateful for moments like these," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "With you. Just being here, together, watching our favorite show. It's... everything."

You smiled, "Me too, Donnie. These moments are my favorite, too."

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, and you snuggled closer. The TARDIS on the screen whirred away, and you couldn't help but draw parallels between the Doctor's adventures and your own, albeit on a smaller scale. Like the Doctor, every other day was a new adventure for you and your turtles. You’ve met dimension traveling aliens and encountered high tech technology.

As the credits rolled from the 8th episode the two of you had watched that evening, Donatello turned off the TV, and you both sat in the quiet lair, surrounded by the comforting hum of machinery and the soft glow of monitors.

"Time well spent", he said, his gaze lingering on you.

You nodded. "Absolutely". You gave Donnie a small peck on the lips, smiling in delight. “Time is always best spent with my favorite doctor”.

Donnie frowned in confusion. “You mean Matt Smith? I thought David Tennant was your favorite Doctor”.

“I’m talking about you”, you laughed, bringing your face close to his once more. “My Doctor Donatello”.

Donnie studied your face, a smile spreading on his face. “I could get used to that name”.

And in that moment, surrounded by the remnants of a fictional time-traveling adventure, you couldn't help but feel that the best moments were the ones spent right here – in the present, with the turtle you loved.

[joespookyregardinghappenings]

Another little Sherlock & Co drabble :)

I did quote the episode please don’t get after me copyright people!! I credited the thing. From Sherlock & Co.: 42 - The Lion's Mane - Part One, Jul 15, 2024

SPOILERS FOR THE LION’S MANE PT ONE

Mariana: Apparently Coach E is full. We’ll have to take B instead.

John: Dammit. How many beds are there?

Mariana: One. I call dibs!

John: What? So Sherlock and I get the floor then?

Sherlock: I am not sleeping on the floor.

John: Well, mate, according to her, you are.

[They arrive at Coach B] 

John: The bed is… rather large for one person, don’t you think?

Mariana: Yeah. It might fit three people, but I doubt either of you would want to share.

John: You don’t know that! Maybe I don’t want to sleep on hardwood floors.

Sherlock: No offense to you, Ms. Hudson, but I’d rather not share a bed with someone.

[Later that night]

John: I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd chat to you guys. Just on the floor, unfortunately, those two have passed out, and I'm just sort of, yeah, peering out the window every now and again. Train is scything through the British countryside. Scything? Slicing? Something. It's going along. The train is going along nicely, and it's a beautiful clear night sky. The moon is beaming his soft white shine as we bounce the faint glow of streetlights and headlamps right back at him. Our gentle earthly gleam of lounges and bedrooms late at night, the pulse of flickering televisions fluttering against windows, reds and ambers of traffic lights and roadworks, blues and greens of electric car charging points and pedestrian crossings, the brilliant white shine of LEDs radiating that same shade of moon glow, and all the while this train zips up the spine of Britain, transporting its dozing cargo to the frosty tip of this great island. Great Britain, named Great of course, because it is the greater of the British Islands, it's greater meaning largest. It has become great in the other meaning though, through thousands of years of history, innovation, humanity, cruelty, cock-up… [yawn] Oh, I’m exhausted. I can’t sleep on this damn floor. I’m going to try and lay with her and Sherlock without waking them up. Wonder what happened to mister “I’m-not-gonna-share-a-bed”, eh? Wish me luck.

[Next morning]

John: Mornin’, listeners. Sherlock is… uh… squishing my arm, and I cannot move. Mariana is up and getting our things packed, for which I am very grateful.

Mariana: It would be amazing if you could help me, John. 

John: I would, but I don’t want to wake him up, he needs to get some rest.

[fionajames]

home - the bad batch

A/N: HEY GUYS, IM SCARED FOR THE NEW SEASON. So, I figured, depending on how these three episodes go, we might need some fluff, so here it is <3. The lyrics are from Home by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. I recommend listening to it as you read! Send requests please! ENJOY!

Oh, home, let me come home

Hunter sighed as he watched Omega swing from side to side in the air, clinging to the hoop of the monkey bar. He wasn’t frustrated with Omega playing - in fact it was a very nice thing to see - in fact he wasn’t frustrated at all. 

He was just watching as Wrecker teased her, causing her to giggle vigorously. Hunter could hear something about the floor being lava, and Wrecker commentating as she played. 

Echo laughed as Omega swung around quickly and lunged at him, clinging to him as she squealed from Wrecker’s insistent teasing. “Wrecker!” She cried out, squirming away from his grasp and racing to hide behind Hunter. He bit his tongue in an attempt to contain the huge grin threatening to grow.

Hunter glanced up at the sky, squinting at the setting suns. The orange glow basked the town beautifully, the forest the playground was situated in alit with the gleam. The corner of his mouth lifted ever-so-slightly. “Time to head home,” he told the others, grasping Omega and hoisting her up onto his shoulders. 

Home is whenever I’m with you

All of the Clones were extremely touch-starved, but most then preferred no affection. Omega, however, was the most affectionate little thing Hunter had ever seen.

As the four began walking home through the streets, Omega ranted about the new friend she’d made at the park - before Wrecker had arrived and interrupted her shenanigans. The new friend was a Clone cadet, the same age as Omega.

Of course, with the antidote the Kaminoans had injected in all of them, the cadet’s age was now one of a normal human’s. Just like Omega.

The streets of Nay Mets were filled with the sunset’s glow and streetlights, familiar and unfamiliar faces rushing through the town. Occasionally the batch saw someone they recognised and waved hello, but most of the time was spent trekking back to the house.

“Can Hera sleep over tomorrow?” Omega chirped, bending over so Hunter could see her face. She gave him her best puppy eyes, wide-eyed, lovable and unable to ignore. “Please?”

“Of course,” Hunter replied, smiling when Omega cheered loudly. 

Oh, home, let me come home

It didn’t take them long to reach their house, slipping inside the unlocked door and calling for their two brothers. Tech was stood in the kitchen cooking something, humming softly. The end of the war had helped ease his humourless state, but kept all of his good features. 

Crosshair was leaning against the countertop, toothpick in between his lips as he thought. Omega barrelled him over with a hug - as usual - before being a little more careful with Tech, who was spooning hot soup into bowls.

Hunter counted the bowls within a split-second, raising a brow at his brother and smirking. “Six?” He asked, and Tech smiled sheepishly. “Phee?” A nod was all the confirmation he needed. 

The batch had met Phee only a few months ago, when she’d come knocking on their door in the early hours of the morning, asking for a flashlight when hers had run out. The whole family could see the instant connection between Phee and Tech, like a rope binding two bridges, destinies intertwined.

Home is whenever I’m with you

Phee arrived late - as usual - but with a big grin, stories and hugs. Omega followed her around with endless questions about her latest quest, asking about the other member to their trio - Ahsoka. Ahsoka came by occasionally, mostly for Omega and Echo. She’d recently joined Phee on her wild travels.

The family ate their soup with huge grins all around, even from Crosshair - who was masking his by remaining bent over his bowl. They washed up before finding a movie to watch, a tradition they’d created recently. 

Once the movie was over, Omega insisted they head into town for a walk. The batch had quickly discovered Omega loved walks, figuring it was because she’d been so confined most of her life.

And so, they walked through the town - all six of them - for an hour, taking in the beauty of Nay Mets. Hunter watched fondly as Tech held Omega up so she could examine one of the streetlights. 

He’d finally done it.

Here his family was.

Safe, and happy.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Please send requests!!!

(taglist: @skellymom, @techs-goggles9902)

[a-mag-a-day]

Hey! I have a little story to share too.

I'm fairly new to the fandom (I first listened to Anglerfish in this very July), but god, in such a short time span The Magnus Archives absolutely captivated me and became my most beloved, cherished show in the entire universe.

When I first listened to Anglerfish, I remember thinking: wow, such a cool anthology podcast, sounds like it's gonna be fun. I didn't expect to get hit with all the FEELS later, I didn't expect to connect with the characters so much and care so much. It's like I strolled down to the beach expecting a nice vacation and instead got hit by a tsunami. And I am NOT complaining! I fell in love and connected with Jon and Martin the way I haven't with any characters for a long, very long time, I relate to them so much and feel so soft when thinking of them. And this is painful, too, but this pain is also cathartic. Their love and devotion to each other is EVERYTHING to me.

The Magnus Archives found me in a very, very bad and dark place in life. I was just looking for a distraction from the horrors of this reality, a way to escape. Instead, I found something deep, profound and beautiful to cherish and hold on to. Isn't that strange? It's a horror tragedy! It's a dark story, it's a scary story, there's trauma and pain and fear! But amidst of all the horror, there's also light gleaming like a beacon in the dark. There's a profound beauty. At its core, and I cannot stress it enough, the Magnus Archives is not a horror story. It's a love story.

And this love, this light, this warmth gives me strength to carry on and not give up.

They brought colors back into my life when I thought I could no longer see them. They brought MAGIC back when I thought I lost it forever. They helped me to rediscover the beauty of this world and fall in love with this again. Thanks to TMA, I'm able to smile again, to dance and laugh and love again, to enjoy things, to feel something other than excruciating numbness. I found my inspiration and began PAINTING again, and it brings me so much joy and happiness I can't express! I picked up my guitar, which I haven't touched at all in three months, and now I'm learning new songs and new chords and I find myself actually WANTING to do things, to make and create things, to find joy in simple everyday pleasures. All thanks to TMA. This shows means so much to me and I love it so, so hard I can't even say.

It's beautiful, it's brilliant, it's stellar. The writing, the storytelling, the voice-acting - everything about TMA is just so good. Such a haunting, captivating story, thoughtfully and carefully crafted. Truly a hidden gem.

I'm so grateful and damn lucky to have found it. I'm writing this to celebrate TMA and its very first episode, and I will be relistening to Anglerfish today again :)

P.S. I TOTALLY forgot Jon's little El-Oh-El and now I'm dying 😂 My beloved ❤️

Oh wow thank you for sharing!

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Tuesday, January 31

Ellis: Does this fit the profile of any Sub-T you're familiar with? Riley: Not subterrestrial, Major. Extraterrestrial. (Leads them to the rock at the end of the trench) It came outta that. Ellis: Miller, set the trackers for a protein signature. Graham: Yes sir. Riley: No good, Major. This alkaloid's breaking down at an accelerated rate. It's dissolving too fast to track. Ellis: You got a better idea? Riley: Thing came from space. Gotta be some trace radiation. Ellis: We have Geiger counters in the packs. Riley: Shouldn't be too much background gamma noise out here. Ellis: Break 'em out.

~~Buffy Season 5 Episode #87: "Listening To Fear"~~

The Sunnydale Herald is looking for at least one new editor! Contributing to the Herald is a great way to get your Buffy on! Find out more here. If you saw the phrase "HTML template" in our previous calls for editors and that was what made you decide that Herald duties aren't for you, you may be glad to hear that we've set up an alternative posting process!

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

The Secret (Angelus, Spike, Drusilla, T) by angelus2hot

Untitled (Buffy/Spike, M) by disaster-vamp

[Chaptered Fiction]

Les seigneurs et rois du paradis Tunisien, Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, M) by Violette-Milka

She came back wrong, Chapter 15 (Buffy/Spike, T) by Desicat

Spiderwebs, Chapter 6 (Buffy/Spike, M) by Willow25

A Living Vampire, Chapter 2 (Buffy/Spike, E) by Desicat

[Images, Audio & Video]

Animation:Lego Buffy - Pump Me For Information () by tmcarlee

Artwork:Important demon slaying discussion (Scoobies) by wolfstrong

Artwork:Buffy () by woooarya

Artwork:Pinup Spike () by isevery0nehereverystoned

Fanmix: Dawn’s punk playlist () by Dawn’s punk playlist

Clothing:BtVS Vest () by thegothicalice

Video: BUFFY MEETS \"TWIN PEAKS\" () by prior emme

Video: BUFFY - NORMAL AGAIN - \"SLEEPING BEAUTY\" () by prior emme

[Reviews & Recaps]

PODCAST: Halloween by The Rewatcher

[Fandom Discussions]

season three baby bangs by scoobb

so they’re doing an amnesia storyline with Cordy by wikiangela

funny how spike sees himself as a warrior by silvermars

you know a thing i love that smg does as buffy? by silvermars

the spuffy relationship is rlly goddam toxic yet... by searchingweeds

The Mayor’s little video message for Faith is something. by aboonebeckerboone

Some Gunn thoughts by doggirlbuffysummers

did someone already ask you about faith x tara? by faith-thee-slayer

we can go back and forth forever about whether or not spike was capable of genuine selfless goodness and love without his soul by mulderscully

Top 10 Spuffy fics I’ve read (Jan 2023) by mcgnagallsarmy

Fuffy ? by beatriceeverytuesday1

Just finished reading Last Gleaming for the first time by falsestardust

Book Club: Blood & Fog: Week 1 (chapters 1-3) by Taake

Killing off a main character - always the plan? by Synch

Discussion of 6.09 "Smashed" by Multiple Authors

Name A Scene You Think It's Underrated by Holden Norgorov

knights by northeastbalancer

What series makes you cry the most? by Linguistin229

Christian themes in "Grave" by Tuxedo_Mark

What do you think the most dangerous/deadly real-world occupations are in Sunnydale? by menlindorn

Is it even possible for a slayer to became a vampire? by Majiska394

What Buffyverse monster do you think you could actually kill? by Captainoats88

Spuffy alternate S6 and beyond by not_another_mom

How would Tara have reacted... by MynameisntWejdene

If things were normal and Buffy had died… do you think Kennedy would’ve been called as the next slayer? by JeSuisLaCockamouse

Are Xander Harris and Chandler Bing the same character? by Leola_Root_Stew

Why didn’t Angel find a way to remove the aspect of the curse where he can’t experience true happiness by xanderdude47

How did Buffy change you? by Vonda705

S7 E3 “Same Time, Same Place” paralyzed Dawn is hilarious. by R0BBYDARK0

Some thoughts on S4E06: wild at heart by glassflow3rs

there were so many amazing opportunities for Buffy and Angel to crossover by ministroopwafel

[Articles, Interviews, and Other News]

PUBLICATION: Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season 2: Living with Consequences by Andrew Heard

Submit a link to be included in the newsletter!

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony’s Stupid Daily Blog (284): Sun 25th Dec 2022

I was supposed to get up early to watch Luna opening her presents but I fell back asleep. Being an adult at Christmas sucks because normally if you want something you can just buy it but at Christmas you have to tell people what that thing is you want and then they get if for you hit you can’t have it for a month with is lame as shit. For kids the feeling of finally getting the thing they want that they couldn’t buy for themselves after several months wait is magical but for adults it’s extremely ungratifying having to wait for something that they could have just bought for themselves and not had to wait for. I got up a few hours later on so she could open the ones I got for her and she really seemed to like all the stuff I got her. As much as Christmas sucks from a presents standpoint it’s also great that I now is get to experience Christmas vicariously through Luna. She loved all the toys she got but as soon as her eyes gleamed that what she had spent three seconds unwrapping was an article of clothing she just discarded it in the floor. Later on I took Luna out so she could ride her new bike around the neighbourhood. She kept using one foot to push down on one pedal and I told her that she needed to peddle with both feet to which she placed both feet on a single peddle and started peddle with it which was hilarious. In the late afternoon while I was digesting my dinner I listened to a lovely Christmas edition of Desert Island Discs. I was thrilled when I heard Lauren Laverne was going to be the new presenter and always hoped that one day Kirsty Young would be asked to come back and say a proper goodbye. Young is an effortlessly gifted broadcaster and those ten years or so she spent hosting Desert Island Discs produced some of the best interviews in BBC history. I love it when you can remember the specific thing you were doing while you were listening to a specific podcast. I remember a few days after leaving HMRC I was going through a bit of a bout of insomnia and so I travelled to the Metro Centre so that I’d be out of the house all day and wouldn’t have the opportunity to fall asleep. I vividly remember listening to Kirsty Young interviewing Danny Baker while I was on the train to the Metro Centre and the episode where she interviewed Jackie Mason while I was walking around the shops. These memories are rarely firmly implanted in your brain like this as most of the time listening to music / podcasts is just something you do to drown out the sound of humanity but sometimes things do stick. This was a really nice Christmas. Last year the family couldn’t meet up because my sister and the. Luna comfort covid so we had to isolate so this year it felt like we were trying to pack two Christmases into one. 

[hostilecityshowdown]

if you haven't listened to sid eudy/sycho sid's podcast, the vicious cycle: go do it. i mean it. he has so many real, genuine insights into the business and talent behind it, and tells a lot of interesting backstage stories. in his co-host's words, he was trained in perfect kayfabe and has such a refreshing, down to earth view on pro wrestling

[heyiwrotesomethings]

She’s the Housekeeper Prt2: Anya’s Reward

Yor Briar/ Forger x She/Her Reader

A/N: Prt1 Prt3 Sorry for the wait, but part two is finally here and part three is already in the works! I hope you all like it! I feel a little iffy about this retelling of episode 5, but ep 6 is going well so far! I am curious to know if you guys mind following the original story so closely or if you would prefer some kind of departure from the original plot. Since this was originally just going to be a oneshot, I’m not sure what people would like to see from this fic. Whatever happens, I’m fairly certain I’ll end this story when season one ends or sooner depending on people’s interest. I’d like to get to Yuri’s episode at the very least, but I know there is a big edition to the family coming up that I want to see and write about 👀. Thanks for reading! Word Count: 2,348

With Anya’s enrollment to Eden nearly secure, everyone was eager to relax. Just one more phone call, and everything would be set in stone.

While Anya colored and watched tv, Loid washed the dishes from lunch. Yor dozed on the couch with her head resting on (Y/n)’s thighs while her partner read a book and ran the fingers of her free hand through Yor’s hair, only stopping long enough to turn the pages before continuing on. The atmosphere was peaceful,

And then the phone rang.

Loid picked up on the second ring, his hands still dripping with water and dish soap as he greeted the caller and listened intently to whoever was on the line.

(Y/n) craned her neck to gauge his reactions and felt hope rise within her when he smiled and his eyes took on an excited gleam. Loid thanked the caller and hung up.

Anya leapt to her feet, “Did I do it, papa?” She asked. Though judging by the look on her face she already knew the answer and squealed happily when Loid picked her up high over his head and smiled proudly at her.

“You did it, Anya!” He declared, swinging the little girl around.

“Congratulations!” (Y/n) clapped quietly, but the combined noise and shift in the energy of the room caused Yor to awaken anyway.

“Congratulations…” Yor slowly sat up and peaked over the couch, rubbing the corner of her eye, “what are we congratulating?”

“Miss Anya is going to Eden, honey.” (Y/n) informed the sleepy woman who immediately perked up.

“Congratulations Miss Anya!”

“Anya is going to school!” The little girl proudly proclaimed. All of her dancing had really paid off!

During their mini celebration, a round of knocks sounded from the door that put everything on pause.

“I thought you said no one was coming today!” (Y/n) hissed quietly. She rolled off of the couch and disappeared down the hall to her and Yor’s room. There wouldn’t be enough time to change into her ‘uniform’ so she would have to hide until whoever the person was left.

“No one was supposed to come,” Loid confirmed, but looking through the peep hole he called back, “It’s alright, it’s my friend Franky. You can come back.”

“Hey! Heard the good news so I thought I’d come by and bring a little something to celebrate with!” Franky greeted Loid with a couple bottles of wine as the door swung open to let him in.

“Thank you, Franky. That’s very kind.” Yor took the bottles from his arms and put them on the table, already itching to pop a bottle open.

“How do you know already?” (Y/n) asked. “We literally got the call only a few minutes ago.”

“Ah, I just have a sixth sense for these kind of things, you know?” Franky laughed. He noticed the warning look Loid gave him and was reminded that (Y/n) and Yor weren’t in the loop. It could be troublesome if they thought Loid was shady for having Franky get him the test answers.

(Y/n) gave him a questioning look, but her eyes happened to flick in Yor’s direction and the third glass of wine she was pouring and she didn’t care anymore.

“Yor, slow down. That’s too much!” She scolded, running past the men and Anya to try to cut her partner off.

Yor saw her coming and already being as drunk as she was, she quickly chugged the rest of the glass. It was like trying to get a piece of plastic away from a cat.

“No more of that.” (Y/n) ordered sternly, poking Yor in the chest.

Yor tried to pout, but quickly fell apart into a giggling mess, bumping her head hard into (Y/n)’s chest.

“You are such a light weight.” She griped, helping Yor down into a chair.

“Did she save any for us?” Franky laughed, plopping into a seat opposite the couple and filling a glass for himself.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I don‘t know what got into her.”

“Anya wants fruit juice!”

“Of course, sweetie. Oh,” Before (Y/n) could get up, Yor wrapped around her like a sloth, “Loid can you do it. I have another child to look after at the moment.”

“Poke, poke, poke.” Yor giggled, pressing her finger against (Y/n)’s cheeks and nose. (Y/n) grabbed her hand and forced it down back into Yor’s lap.

“Right.” Loid retrieved the juice for Anya with an amused smile.

“So Anya, have you told your dad what kind of reward you want for getting into Eden? He’ll buy you anything you want you know.” Franky declared with a troublesome grin.

Anya sat quietly for a minute, swaying her dangling feet to and fro.

“I don’t need papa to buy me anything.” She said, looking down modestly, “I would like to do something though.”

“Sure! Just say the word and your papa will do it!” Franky cheered after taking another swig of wine, Loid gave him a tired glare, but turned to Anya with a reassuring smile.

“Anya wants papa to save her from a castle!” Anya spoke resolutely, pointing to the tv as Bondman was zip-lining into a castle.

“A castle, hm?” (Y/n) gave Loid a look that said, ‘good luck with that, buddy’ and Loid rubbed his forehead.

“That is not a very realistic request, Anya. Isn’t there something else you would rather do?”

“C’mon, it’s more doable than you think,” Franky sat back in his chair, “that castle got remodeled as a theme park. It can be rented out.”

Loid closed his eyes, thinking, then he nodded.

“I need to make a phone call.”

***

“So you can just make a phone call and get a private plane a couple hours later? What kind of psychiatrist are you?” (Y/n) asked as she helped both Anya and Yor with their seatbelts. She thought hiring a private plane was a little too bougie for the man to afford. Especially when his profession apparently included beating the snot out of his patients.

“I have my sources. Here,” Loid attempt to divert (Y/n)’s attention with a glass of wine, “you didn’t get to have any at home.”

“Someone has to keep an eye on her.” She gestured to Yor, but she took the glass anyway, holding it out of reach of Yor’s grabby hands, “actually, maybe a little wouldn’t hurt.”

“Fank you berry mush fur alwaysh looking out fur me, lub youuu.”

“Shhh, Yor, I know— hey! Where did you get that wine bottle?”

While (Y/n) wrestled the bottle away with one hand, not an easy feat, Loid started the plane and took off, Franky and Anya cheered as the plane ascended into the air and found its cruising altitude.

Before long, the castle came into sight, glowing against the darkness of the night sky.

“Looks pretty good, don’t you think?” Franky grinned over his shoulder at Anya.

“Anya is excited!” The little girl’s eyes gleamed while she pressed her face against the glass.

“It is a very pretty sight.” (Y/n) said, peeking out of Anya’s window as well.

“Show prettyyy.” Yor agreed, though her eyes hadn’t left her partner’s body for most of the plane ride and now wasn’t much different.

Loid found a place to land and the Forger’s and Company tumbled out of the plane and into the grand, empty castle.

Franky and Anya ran around for a minute or two before Anya stopped, a small frown on her face.

“What’s wrong, Anya?” Her father asked.

“It doesn’t feel right without servants and enemies. It makes me sad.”

“I know, right? Poor little Princess,” Franky shot Loid a disappointed pout of his own, “papa better step up his game.”

Loid’s eye twitched.

“Where are you going?” (Y/n) asked Loid as Yor clumsily spun her around the ballroom.

“I need to make a phone call.”

***

“Seriously, what is your deal? How did you get all these people so fast?” (Y/n) inquired. The ballroom had transformed into a lively party before her very eyes. She didn’t care what unorthodox practices he held, there was no way he was making this kind of money as a psychiatrist.

Loid opened his mouth to craft a flawless lie, but it was unneeded as (Y/n) had to stop Yor from disappearing into the crowd of spies turned party goers. Loid was actually thankful for the distractions a drunk Yor provided. (Y/n) was too observant and curious for her own good.

He took the stage as Franky dictated and sent out his message to the crowd before handing the reins back to the informant who began a flawless theatrical performance and set the scene.

“Here is our star, Princess Anya!”

“And here is the spy who is going to save me, Loidman!” Anya beamed, directing the spotlight onto Loid.

“And our villain Count Scruffy!” She continued, the light fell back on Franky who rubbed his hands together dastardly.

“And mahh, ah, Ms. (Y/n) will be mama’s keeper!”

“Seems a little on the nose, but okay.” (Y/n) mumbled with a mirthful smile and gave a little wave to the crowd as the light fell on her and Yor.

“And mama will be… whatever.” Anya finished, causing Yor’s mouth to fall open in shock.

“I’ll need your help to keep Loidman out of my way subordinates, keep him away as long as you can!” Franky called out with a evil laugh.

He ushered Anya, (Y/n) and Yor into pod attraction that steadily began to raise higher.

“If you want Princess Anya back, come get her! Scruffy scruff scruff!” Franky laughed watching Loid grow smaller and smaller the further away they got from the floor.

“Good luck!” (Y/n) chuckled at Loid’s face. He looked a little out of his depth.

Before long, a breeze wafted around them and they were outside. (Y/n) and Yor watched on with varied degrees of amusement as a short quiz ensued, leading to Loid having to put on a Bondman costume. It was nothing extreme, but watching Loid blush before putting that cheap mask over his eyes made (Y/n) laugh.

Then the action really kicked off.

“This is like, the production value of a blockbuster movie.” (Y/n) commented, watching Loid fight henchman and dodge the giant balls being shot at him. “Wow, he can really move.”

“And so can we!” Franky said with another evil laugh, making the balloon pod rise above the tower.

“Save me, Loidman!” Anya called out as the balloon ascended.

Loid scaled the steps of the tower with impressive form and dexterity, but when before he reached the top, Franky was off again. Loid leapt from the castle tower and zip-lined to the end of the line of Count Scruffy and his crew.

“I’m surprised you made it this far Loidman, but I won’t give you the Princess!”

“Save me, Loidman!” Anya called out again. She was having the time of her life.

“Hand over the Princess.” Loid gave the command with a lackluster delivery.

(Y/n) snickered again, covering her face in her hands and for but a moment, let go of Yor’s arm. That would prove to be a grave error on her part. A whoosh of air, and when (Y/n) looked up, Yor was up out of her seat and wobbling down the steps towards Loid.

“The most powerful witch in the world! Free from her keeper’s shackles,” Franky rolled with the change easily, “Go, Yorticia!”

“Oh no.” (Y/n) groaned. Wherever this was going it couldn’t possibly be good. She got to her feet and followed after Yor, but even drunk Yor was faster than her.

“Shit!” She hissed under her breath, quickening her pace as Yor threw a deadly kick at Loid’s head that he barely managed to escape with little more than a scratch. “Yor, that’s enough!”

If Yor heard her lover, she gave no indication, instead charging Loid again.

“Anyone who triiies t’ kinnnap Miss Anya, will not geh away alive!”

Yor then proceeded to beat the absolute stuffing out of Loid. All the while (Y/n) ran to catch up and tried to catch Yor’s attention. If she accidentally killed Loid that would be bad on so many levels!

Then by the grace of god, Yor pivoted harshly on the heel of her shoe, snapping it. The sudden detriment to her balance worked with her drunken state to send her crashing to the ground. (Y/n) only made it just in time to catch her head before it hit against the cobble stone.

“Is she alright?” Loid asked, sounding every bit as winded as he looked.

“Fell asleep. Finally.” (Y/n) breathed a sigh of relief. No one would have to die tonight.

“Scruffy scruffy scruff! And so the witch is back in the hands of the keeper! Good work getting this far, Loidman! But you won’t defeat me s—“

Loid smacked Franky none too gently in the face, sending the informant hurdling to the ground. He walked passed without a second glance and stopped in front of Anya and offered his hand, flushed with embarrassment at having to keep playing along.

“I’m here to rescue you, Princess Anya.” He mumbled.

“Papa!” Anya yelled excitedly, running up to hug him.

There was not a dry eye among his fellow spies as the fireworks were set off, signaling the end of the glorious chase.

(Y/n) watched the father-daughter duo talk from a distance, smiling warmly. They were so sweet! She looked down at Yor, snoring peacefully in her lap and brushed the sleeping woman’s bangs from her eyes before turning her attention back to the fireworks lighting up the sky.

(Y/n) sighed, she sure hoped Loid was strong, because she would need help carrying Yor into the plane. She was almost pure muscle. She heard Yor whine after a particularly loud boom, no doubt her head was already starting to ache. (Y/n) pressed her hands over Yor’s ears, doing her best to muffle the fireworks.

Yor snuggled closer and her hand came up to rest against one of (Y/n)’s, a peaceful smile appeared on her flushed face and (Y/n)’s eyes softened in return.

What a night it had been.

[cjsinkythoughts]

The Conversation

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 7661 (Don’t come at me - you guys asked for it)

Warnings: !FATWS Spoilers!, Cursing, Fluff, Feelings, I Dunno What Else, This One’s Pretty Chill, Except The Ending, But You’ll See When You Get There

A/N: Here it is! I was hesitant about posting it because that means we’re getting closer to the end and I’m such a nostalgic bitch! I’m definitely gonna cry next week when the last episode comes out! Anyways, I’ve got a few things to talk about:

I think this is one of the most important chapters I’ve written and I’m excited to see your reactions to it. It is longer, but you guys asked for that, so you got it! Also, I’m loving the Asks, Comments, and Reblogs. I try to respond to all of them. I have work in a little bit, so I won’t be able to until after, but I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Ask me anything; about my series, the show, any of the movies, personal stuff, I really don’t care. If you’re not comfortable, that’s totally fine! Every like means so much to me!

I know it’s not the end yet - we’ve got one more episode and a list of One Shots to get through - but there’s a definite feeling of this series coming to an end, and I just want to thank you all for the support and love you’ve been giving it! I’ve really enjoyed writing these characters and this story! It’s very, very special to me and I’m glad I’ve been able to share it with you lovely people!

On that note, be kind to yourselves and others! Thank you again for reading! Excuse any mistakes - this isn’t beta’d! Enjoy and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT! (Sorry for the gifs I just love them so much and he’s so pretty and this part is technically two parts so...you get four!)

“Louisiana.” Bucky hummed, looking around the airport.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re not gonna find anything interesting about Louisiana in here, doofus. Let’s call an Uber.”

“An Ooper? What the hell is an Ooper?”

You giggled, shaking your head and grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the luggage carousel. “Uber. It’s like…a taxi service. But there’s an app on your phone to get a driver instead of waiting for one on the street.”

“Oh.” He blinked, tilting his head. “That’s…helpful.”

You laughed again, stopping in front of Carousel 3, where your flight from New York was assigned. You went back to New York to grab a bag with clean clothes and other necessities, along with taking a real shower for once. It was nice to be back in the States, as much as you loved traveling. It’d been a crazy few weeks and you were ready to just relax.

“Do you think there were any problems with Sammy’s present?”

Bucky shook his head. “Nah. Especially considering they know who we are.”

You snickered at his slight grumble. They had had…problems at the other two airports - first the one in Sokovia then JFK in New York - considering Bucky’s entire arm was metal. It’d taken a full hour before they actually let you go, and by that time they had to give you a new plane because yours had left.

“Seriously. Who else has a fucking metal arm and has 1917 listed as their birth year on their Driver’s License?” You giggled again. That was also true. They thought he was messing with them. It wasn’t until you stepped in a few minutes after they asked Bucky to step to the side, seeing Bucky get frustrated, that they realized Bucky wasn’t pulling their legs.

“Well, we’re here now and that’s all that matters.”

He nodded in agreement, watching for your bags, his hand finding yours when he realized how many people there were. “Do you know where he lives? I didn’t even think about it.”

“Yeah, don’t worry. He invited me over once. I declined, but I saved the address.”

“He…invited you over?” Bucky frowned.

You gave him a look. “I’m sure he invited you, too. You just never checked his texts.”

He licked his lips, tilting his head. “Yeah, no, I know, but I mean…why didn’t you go? Weren’t you two just talking about how you wanted to meet his nephews the other day?”

“Yeah, but I had gotten a tip on Wanda at the time and I didn’t want to miss the chance that she was there. He told me it was fine. I still felt really bad. I could tell he was a bit disappointed. I think it was one of the boys’ birthdays. Or something. I don’t remember. Is that bad? Yeah, probably. I really should remember. Maybe I should keep track of birthdays on my calendar or something.”

“Doll.” You looked up to find him giving you a magnificent smile, teeth and all. “You’re rambling.”

“Oh. Am I? Sorry. I didn’t realize.”

He shook his head quickly, squeezing your hand. “Don’t apologize. It’s cute. I’m just not used to you talking so much. You kinda did on the phone sometimes.”

You shrugged, pushing down the heat crawling up your neck at his words. “I rambled a lot to Steve.”

“Oh.”

His face fell, making you scrunch your eyebrows up in confusion, nudging him slightly to grin at him. “It’s nice to have someone to ramble to again, though.” There was that smile again. You were stopped from saying anything more when you noticed some kids pointing and chattering excitedly at a gleaming silver box coming around the corner on the conveyor belt. “There it is.”

He looked over his shoulder, dropping your hand and stepping over to grab it, lifting it effortlessly. You didn’t know what was in it or how heavy it was, but you were sure it felt like a feather to him.

“Alright. Got our bag, sweetheart?” You lifted up the duffle in answer and he jerked his head towards the doors. “Let’s get outta here, then. Call that Booper or whatever.”

“U-B-E-R! Ub-er!” You threw your hands up, following him as he started walking towards the exit. “What’s so hard about it?!”

He just gave you a little smirk over his shoulder.

***************

Bucky kept asking the Uber driver questions about his job. The guy was super nice and patient the whole time, a thick southern accent lacing his answers. Southern hospitality was no joke and apparently had no limit as Bucky asked about his experiences, listening intently and telling him his own stories of taxi drivers in NYC.

When you got to Sam’s sister’s house, Bucky, being Bucky, tipped the driver half of what you paid for the ride, thanking him for his time and energy, before getting out.

“You’re so adorable, you know that?” You teased him as you stepped up the porch stairs and knocked on the door.

He rolled his eyes, a tint of pink dusting across his cheeks. “He was nice.”

You hummed at his defense, the smile never leaving your features. After a moment, Bucky raised his fist to knock again. “Jesus Christ! Don’t fucking knock their door down!” You grabbed his wrist and lowered it.

“Sorry. I forget sometimes.” Bucky informed you absentmindedly,  tilting his head to peek in the window. “I don’t think anyone’s home.”

“They’re probably at the docks, then.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “The docks?”

You nodded, gesturing for him to follow you. “Yeah. They have a boat, remember? He talked about it last week.”

“Oh right. The one he’s trying to convince his sister not to sell.”

“Yeah.” You confirmed. “I’m pretty sure it’s that way. I don’t know how far, but we can call the Uber back-”

Bucky scrunched up his face and shook his head. “Nah. I don’t wanna bother him again. We can walk.”

You gave him an incredulous look. “It’s literally his job to drive people around.”

“Well, yeah, but what if he’s got other people to drive?”

You lifted his metal knuckles to your lips. “Trust me, Buck, I’m sure he’d rather drive you than anyone else.”

“Thank you?”

Swinging your now linked hands, you gave a firm nod, letting him know it was, in fact, a compliment. “You are so very welcome.”

The walk was a lot longer than you thought it was, and you ended up on Bucky’s back after he kept complaining about how you “shouldn’t be walking this long” and you were “injured” and you “needed rest’”. You’re not sure how a shoulder wound affected your ability to walk, but you relented and let him carry you the rest of the way to stop his whining.

“You forget, you did pull your thigh.”

“That was, like, three weeks ago! Yeesh!”

You finally got to the docks, which were bustling with people. Bucky set you down and raised an eyebrow which you shrugged in reply to, before heading over to where you spotted Sam with a few other older men.

“How do we get it off the truck?” You heard Sam ask, pointing to a large boat engine part in the bed of a beaten up truck. Scoffing as Bucky lifted it up without breaking a sweat, you leaned against the truck. Bucky grunted and set it down, looking at Sam.

“You’re welcome.” What a punk. “Just dropping this off.” Bucky lifted the case and set it where the engine was previously, Sam coming to stand on the opposite side of the truck as you. “You can sign for it and I’ll go.” You snorted, shaking your head, making Bucky shove your shoulder - the uninjured one - playfully. “I called in a favor from the Wakandans.”

Sam looked at you curiously. You shrugged and shook your head. “Don’t look at me, Sammy. He wouldn’t tell me what it is. He’s all hushy hushy about it until you say so.”

Before Sam could reply, there was a squeak and hissing over at the boat where steam was coming from a few pipes.

“Sam!” You knew that was Sarah from pictures Sam showed you. You stayed up by the truck, pulling yourself onto the bed while Sam tried fixing the pipe, Bucky butting in to show him how to do it properly.

“Why didn’t you use the metal arm?”

You saw Bucky lift up said metallic limb. “Well…I don’t always think of it immediately. I’m-I’m right handed.” Letting out a laugh, Bucky turned around and scowled teasingly at you. “And what’re you laughing at?!”

“Nothing!”

“Well then get your ass over here!”

You rolled your eyes, hopping down from the truck as Bucky asked if Sam wanted help with the boat. You leaned against a wooden post, grinning when Sam looked at you.

“I don’t have any plans.”

Sam gave a small smile, jerking his head back. “Yeah.”

You jumped down onto the boat to follow him, looking over your shoulder and stopping with an amused eyebrow raised as Bucky introduced himself to Sarah. “I’m Bucky.”

“Ah…Sarah.”

“Sarah.” Bucky repeated her name, before walking towards you, a grin still on his lips.

“Careful, Barnes. That playboy Steve warned me about is coming out.” You nudged him with a smirk, ignoring the feeling of your stomach dropping.

He rolled his eyes, kissing your head as he passed you and Sam to go where Sam was gesturing. “Don’t worry, Y/N. You’re still my doll.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, falling into step besides you and lowering his voice. “Conversation?”

“Hasn’t happened.” You informed him through clenched teeth as he groaned.

Sam gave you a list of chores that needed to be done to clean up the boat, giving you a quick tour and letting you know where all the tools needed where. You set to work immediately.

Sanding down, replacing old parts, cleaning, polishing and painting over the things that didn’t need replacing. They didn’t let you do any heavy lifting because of your stupid shoulder, but you were still able to help.

Sam had turned on some music for you to listen to, so you danced around the boat while cleaning. Turning your head when you felt a pair of eyes on you, you smiled when Bucky snapped his head back down to the wood he was sanding down.

“Gonna dance, Barnes?”

He looked back over, shaking his head. “Nah. I’m good watching you.”

Rolling your eyes, you got back to work, continuing to bop to the music, fully aware that he was watching you now.

A little while later, you were repainting the edges of the boat orange, when you looked over and noticed Bucky playing around with a paint scraper…sitting right on the edge that you had just finished repainting a few minutes ago.

“Buck!”

He looked over, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back your mischievous grin. Shaking your head, you waved dismissively. “Never mind!”

He gave you a confused sort of pout, before shrugging and continuing to fidget with the tool. It wasn’t until later when he got up to help Sam tear the metal plating off the edge that it came to light with Sam chuckling and raising an eyebrow.

“Sit in something there, Barnes?”

“What?”

Bucky craned his neck back, eyes widening when he saw the orange paint on his ass, contrasting with his jeans. You let out a cackle and he whipped towards you, pointing at you accusingly, although the small uptick of his lips let you know he wasn’t really mad.

“Y/N!”

“No, no, no!” You laughed, sprinting across the deck, shrieking when he grabbed your waist and spun you around. You gasped when he grabbed a paint brush and painted an orange stripe right down the front of your shirt. “James!”

“Justice, sweetheart.” He breathed in your ear with a chuckle.

You shook your head, wiggling out of his hold. “This is a nice shirt!”

“You should’ve thought about that before.” He smirked, crossing his arms. Your eyes caught sight of Sam behind him, who raised an eyebrow and the bucket of paint he was holding. You nodded with a little giggle, making Bucky’s eyes narrow. “What’s so funny over there, do - holy shit!

You guffawed as orange paint dripped down his head, Sam standing innocently behind him with the now empty bucket behind his back. “Samuel!”

“Oops?”

“I’m gonna kill you!”

“Try me old man!”

“Fuck!

“Doll!”

“Oh my God!”

Paint, orange and white since those were the only cans they had out, flew across the deck, paint brushes being used like fencing swords.

You found out too late that wet paint was a little bit slippery and you slid on a huge puddle, sending you, not onto the ground below, but over the side of the edge into the water. 

“Doll!”

“Cher, you good?!” 

The three of you looked at each other, stunned for a moment, before bursting into fits of laughter and you nodded. “I’m good!”

The boys helped you get back up onto the dock, Sarah appearing with towels she conjured up out of thin air. “Let’s get you into dry clothes. Do you have-?”

“We’ve got some. We got a bag.” You told her with a grin, facing the guys. “You two should clean up some, too. Sammy, you’ve got a little something right there.” You pointed to your cheek, his own having a giant white splotch from his temple to his jaw. “And Buck?” You sniggered, gesturing to the whole of him. “You’ve got a lotta something right there.” 

“Ha. Ha.” He looked down. His top was practically tiger print, drenched in orange with white here and there, and his ass still orange as well. His hair, which had been plastered to his forehead, was starting to dry now, and it only made you laugh some more thinking about what a pain it’d be to get it out. For him, at least.

“God. Can’t even have a relaxing day on the boat with you two.” Sam jested once you finished up and joined him and Bucky, who had just finished dumping out some water buckets. Bucky had changed his shirt and it looked like they tried wiping their faces, but Sam still had small lines of white down his face. “How ‘bout a couple of drinks? Surely you can’t ruin that too.”

“Ruin?” You gasped in mock offence. “Sammy! I just made the day more…interesting.”

Sam chuckled, ruffling Bucky’s hair, which still had orange streaks in it. “Let’s go get some beers.”

************

You chatted for a bit, mainly you and Sam with you asking how Sarah and the boys were while Bucky with your legs in his lap, just listening to you two and sipping at his bottle. You had his hand in your own lap, wiping it down with a rag due to the paint that got on it.

“You’re lucky this is vibranium, you know.” You commented off handedly. “If it was your other one, it’d definitely get stained.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Bucky shot back with a teasing grin.

“Sammy’s.”

Sam spluttered. “Wh-what?! You started it!” You laughed, shaking your head.

Falling into a comfortable silence with just the water and birds chirping as your soundtrack, you downed the rest of your drink, which Bucky took as finished. “Well,” you moved your legs to let him stand up. He leaned forwards to clink his bottle against Sam’s and you stood up and stretched. “Gotta catch our flight tomorrow. Get a hotel room for the night.” Sam gave you a look to which you rolled your eyes at as Bucky set down his bottle and grabbed his jacket. “Crash, you know?”

“So you’re just gonna set me up like that, huh?”

“Well I don’t wanna make it weird for your family.”

“Just stay here.” You laughed as Sam babbled on about how nice the people were here, grabbing the jacket Bucky handed to you. It was getting a bit chilly from the breeze on the water and the sun going down. Plus, that water was cold.

“But don’t flirt with my sister.”

You cackled at Bucky’s face, that turned serious, his head shaking. “No.”

“‘Cause if you do I’ll have Carlos cut you up and feed you to the fish.”

“Can’t hold back the dog, Wilson. It’s been stuck in a kennel too long.”

Bucky turned to you, grabbing your jaw and squishing your cheeks together. “You know what? You need to shush. You’ve been snippy all day.”

You just smiled as innocently as you could with your lips being held by his metal fingers. “You’re too fun to mess with.”

He pecked your nose. “As long as I’m the only one you’re messing with. I’ll be right back.” He let you go and spun around, maneuvering around the boat in a way only a trained assassin could do.

“Oh my God, please! Please just put me out of my fucking misery! You’re killing me, cher.”

“What?” You gaped at him.

“Don’t act innocent!” Sam huffed, giving you a pointed look. “If I have to watch you two make googly eyes at you one more fucking day with neither of you doing anything about it-”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh come on, Sammy-”

“Don’t ‘come on, Sammy’ me! And don’t come at me with that ‘he doesn’t like me back’ bullshit. If you think for a second that boy wouldn’t follow you to the depths of the fucking ocean, you’re blind as a bat, woman.”

You shrugged, pushing up the sleeves of Bucky’s too big jacket. “It just…hasn’t come up.”

He deadpanned, shaking his head and standing up. “That’s it. I’m done. You two are driving me insane. I’m gonna lock you in a room until you have the conversation that needs to be had the next time either of you does something stupid.”

“Yikes. That’s gonna be quick.” At his look, your smile dropped and you nodded. “Okay, okay. I’ll…I’ll bring it up later.”

“Tomorrow or nothing.”

“Sam-”

Sam tilted his head, brow creasing. “Is it still Steve? Is that what this is still about? Because he’s gone, and he’s been gone and you need to get over it-”

“No. It’s not…” You sighed. “It clicked the other day. When we were hanging out. Steve left and, yeah, I might always love him, but Bucky…God…I love Bucky, Sam.”

The man grinned proudly. “I’m glad to finally hear you admit it. So what’s the problem?”

“It’s still complicated, right? I mean…he’s his best friend and I’ve never dealt with stuff like this before and-”

Sam’s smile dropped and he groaned again. “Imma head out. I can’t take this. Dumbass and dumberass. I swear to God.” You sniggered a bit as he grumbled, walking towards the ramp to climb off the boat, just as Bucky reappeared.

“Hey-”

“Nope! Not right now, Barnes! I can’t handle it! I can’t!”

Bucky gave you a weird look. “What’d you do?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Nothing.”

“Well, c’mon, doll. Sarah said she’s gonna make gumbo for us, whatever that is.” He held out his hand as you walked over. 

“You’re such a city boy.” You teased lightly, taking his hand and letting him help you pull you onto the dock. You shoved the sleeves of his jackets up again since they slipped from the first time. “Let’s go get some dinner. I’m starving.”

******************

“We have the couch and a mattress we can pull out, I just have to make Sam get it from the attic-”

“That’s alright. The couch is fine.” Bucky waved dismissively while you nodded in agreement.

Sarah raised an eyebrow at you two. “For both of you?”

You blinked, exchanging a look with Bucky, before shrugging and turning back to her. “Yeah.”

“Don’t fight it, Sarah.” Sam peeked out from the hall. “They’ve got a weird relationship.” You stuck your tongue out at the man while Bucky rolled his eyes, dropping your duffle bag by the couch. “How mature, Y/N.” Sam mimicked your action.

“Uhm…okay. Let me set up the couch for you then.”

Once everything was set up, you and Bucky thanking her for dinner - delicious and you’d never seen Bucky smile so much, the boys having kept him highly entertained throughout the meal - and for letting you crash, Sam and Sarah headed to their rooms, the boys already having been tucked in for the night.

“Are you gonna sleep on the floor?” You asked quietly, sitting down on the couch and doing the things for your night routine you didn’t already do in the bathroom.

“I think I’ll be okay.” He sat besides you. “I’ve been doing fine the past week or so.”

You smiled at him. “That’s good. Alright.” You stood up and stretched. “Let me just make sure everything’s in the bag and ready-”

You yelped when his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest, shifting down to lay against the couch’s arm. “Do it in the morning.” He yawned, looking up at you tiredly. “I wanna go to sleep.”

“Then go to sleep, Buck. I’ll be right back.” He shook his head, his hold tightening as he sunk deeper into the couch.

“No. I fall asleep better with you.”

You rolled your eyes but grinned, settling down with your legs between his, your chin resting on his sternum so you could still look at him. He beamed, but you could see the exhaustion settling in, and he grabbed the blanket Sarah left over the back of the couch and draped it across your back, over both of your legs, before his arms crossed snugly under the covers at the small of your back.

“Dinner was nice tonight. I haven’t had a meal cooked like that in ages.” You hummed.

He nodded in agreement. “I think that’s the first time I’ve sat around a table with a family since the 40′s.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Did you like it?”

“Yeah...kinda makes me wish I had my own.”

“Your own what?”

“Family.”

You bit your lip, shyly avoiding his gaze. “You’re my family, Buck.”

A light kiss was pressed to your forehead, his fingers bringing your gaze back to his. “There’s no one else I’d rather have.” The room lapsed into silence again, the clock ticking on the wall, the low sound of crickets outside.

“You have really pretty eyes.” You mumbled, tilting your head slightly as you studied them. They always held so much emotion in them, especially in contrast to when you first met him as Soldat. They matched the water you fell in, and you wouldn’t mind falling over and over into them.

“Yeah, well, you’re just really pretty inside and out, so I think you’ve got me beat, doll.” He whispered back.

“You know who else is pretty? Sarah.”

He nodded with a hum. “That’s true. But I meant what I said. You’ll always be my doll.”

“So you’re not gonna ask her out?”

He gave you a weird look as you traced his sharp jawline absentmindedly. “Nah, sweetheart. It’s just…some harmless flirting. Except on Sam’s part.”

You gave a soft huff of laughter. “Yeah…he’s gonna strangle you. It is nice to see you like that, though. Flirty. Relaxed. Happy.”

“You make me happy, sweetheart.” He hummed, nosing your temple. “The road trip helped. I’m learning everything from you. Maybe not the flirting, but the carefree part.”

You blinked at him, finger stopping for a moment as you thought. “Oh…”

You felt his fingers dance up your spine, making you shiver slightly. “What I would give to know what’s goin’ on inside that pretty lil’ head’a yours, doll.”

“I just think it’s funny you’re learning how to be carefree from me…when I just started learning how to do it myself.”

“Oh yeah?”

You nodded, your finger continuing its path down his jaw. “I think it started with the goats.”

“The goats?”

You nodded again, resting your cheek on his chest, watching your finger move up from his chin. Once you got to the end of his jaw, you lightly scratched his scruff. “In Wakanda. Our goats.” You weren’t looking at him, so you didn’t see the way he physically melted at your words, his eyes going soft, his lips turning up slightly.

“Our goats, huh?”

But your tired brain wasn’t really processing what he said, instead focusing on the features your finger was now tracing - over his lips, up his nose. “You’re pretty too, Buck. Did you know that? Inside and out.”

He craned his neck to kiss your forehead. “Go to sleep, cuddle bug.”

Nodding, you nuzzled into his chest, finger feeling over the bumps and indents on the dog tags resting near your head. You tried going to sleep, but you kept shifting, your mind not shutting off.

“Hey, sleepyhead, I’m trying to, you know, sleep.”

“Sorry.” You apologized meekly. “I just…I dunno. I can’t.”

“Are you comfortable?” He peeked open and eye to look at you questioningly. You nodded. “Is it too hot? We can take the blanket off. I know I’m a walking furnace-”

You shook your head. “No. I don’t know why. I just can’t sleep.”

He licked his lips thoughtfully, before cradling your head and guiding you back down to his chest. “Lay down, sweetheart. Relax.” He stroked your hair, moving his head down to rub circles in your back muscles, pressing down harder when he felt knots. 

You hummed, your eyes closing. “That feels good.”

“Shshsh. Just go to sleep.” His lips pressed against your head once more, lingering a bit longer than they usually do, as you felt yourself drift off. You cuddled his side, throwing a leg over his waist, before nodding off, only barely hearing his words. “Attagirl. There we are.”

******************

“Doll?” You felt a shift underneath you and groaned, your eyes barely cracking open. “Hey, sleepyhead…it’s okay. I’m just gonna slip out from under ya, alright? Gonna go help Sammy with somethin’.”

You raised an eyebrow, letting him move you against the cushions as he sat up on the edge of the couch. “Sammy?”

“Yeah.” He bent over and kissed your cheek. You stretched out your limbs, about to rub your eyes, when he stopped you, kissing the inside of your wrists. “No. Not you, doll. Go back to sleep.” 

“Bu’...’m gonna help.” You slurred out, looking at him with confused, squinty eyes.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s okay. Rest. You can help when you wake up again. Okay?” You mumbled out an “okay”, bringing the covers up to your chin and snuggling deeper into the cushions. “There ya go, cuddle bug. Good girl.” There was another kiss, one to your temple this time, before you slipped back into unconsciousness.

******************

The next time you woke up was because of a clatter in the kitchen. You yawned and sat up, stretching, eyebrows furrowing when you realized Bucky wasn’t with you. It took you a moment to remember your conversation, which you half thought you dreamt.

“Boys!”

“Sorry!”

You chuckled at the shouts, rubbing your eyes. “I am so sorry!” Sarah apologized, looking over at you from the stove. Trying to make the boys breakfast before school. Do you want anything? Eggs? Cereal? Toast?”

“Uh, cereal’s fine.” You stretched out your back again, before throwing back the covers and standing up, a little shakily.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where Sam went, would you?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Uh, I think him and Bucky went to fix something on the boat. I don’t for sure, though.”

Sarah groaned. “He probably went to fix the stupid water pump which doens’t need fixing. Dumbass.”

You chuckled, padding over into the kitchen. “Yeah. I just work with him. I can’t imagine growing up with him.”

“Trust me; some days you want to throw him in a box and send him out to sea. Bowls are in that cupboard.”

You snickered, moving over to grab a bowl from the cupboard she pointed to. “That’s how I feel with Bucky. Sam is less often, but when those two get together…it’s a full zoo.”

She laughed at that, nodding as she got out the milk and a few boxes of cereal for you to choose from, handing you a spoon. “That I believe.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

You started pouring your cereal, watching in slight amusement as she got the boys ready for school. “Bus is here! Get out the door! Bye! Love you! Make sure you take those extra lunches to-!”

“Yeah, mom! We know! Love you too!”

You gave a slight smirk as she huffed, looking around the kitchen at the pans and dishes left out. “Kids, huh?”

She gave you a smile. “Yeah. They’re a handful, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything. How about you? Any thoughts of kids?”

“Me?” Your eyes widened, nearly choking on your food. “Oh God no. Not right now, at least. I don’t even have a solid house right now. My life’s too off the walls for that.”

“And Bucky?”

You raised an eyebrow as she leaned on the counter. “Bucky? What about Bucky?”

“Does he want kids?”

“Uh…I dunno.” You shrugged, clearing your throat as you remembered your talk last night. “Kinda makes me wish I had my own.” You quickly pushed his words aside. “He hasn’t told me.”

“Wait, wait. You two…aren’t together then?”

You blinked, your eyes widening again. “Together? Me and Bucky? No…why? Did Sam say something?”

Her expression morphed into one of disbelief, crossing her arms. “Sam didn’t say anything. You guys did. Are you seriously expecting me to believe you aren’t together?”

“We’re not! I mean - he was flirting with you yesterday-”

“Right, okay. Honey, that’s flirting. And it’s harmless. The way he follows you like a puppy and you look at him like he hung the stars? That’s feelings. And that’s a lot more impactful than flirting.”

You frowned in contemplation. It was really that obvious? You were really that blind? This whole time? You knew Sam knew - but you just figured that’s because he’s been there since it started. And Sharon knew for the same reason. But Sarah? The woman you just met the day prior and had barely had a conversation with?

“It’s, uh…” You chewed on your cheek, swirling your cereal around. “It’s complicated.”

Sarah didn’t look impressed. “Do you like him?”

“I’m kinda in love with him-”

She shrugged, not letting you finish your bashful statement. “Then I don’t see what’s complicated about it.”

And that was that. She turned to clean up breakfast, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You thought it was more complicated than that. I mean…you were in love with your best friend. Who left you. With the guy you had feelings for who just so happened to be your best friend/crush’s best friend. And now you were completely in love with your best friend’s best friend, but your best friend still had a piece of your heart.

But…you loved Bucky. And he was here. And Steve was not. And when you put it that way…you guess it wasn’t so complicated after all.

******************

You snickered as you walked up behind Sarah, the woman berating the men for not leaving the water pump along like she asked.

“Hi, Sarah.”

Sam shot Bucky a warning look, who grinned, but you were surprised to see Sarah ignore him, sending you a knowing glance instead, before turning back to Sam. “I told you specifically that the water pump was not the problem, and yet, here you are.”

“Yep, Samuel.”

You chuckled, Bucky shooting you a wink. “Yeah, Samuel.”

Sam narrowed his eyes at you, turning to Sarah. “In our defense, you were supposed to be done long before you woke up.”

You nearly facepalmed at his “defensive” and you were trying so hard to hold back laughing as she told Sam off, sending them away.

“I don’t wanna hear a peep from you.” Sam pointed at you, but that only made your chortles come out, and you didn’t even bother hiding them. “She’s a very mean person.”

“It’s tough love.”

You giggled as they started arguing, slipping an arm around their waists, their arms instinctually coming up to your shoulders.

“Oh my God. A prowess?”

“Yes, Y/N. A prowess.”

“You know, maybe if you someone let me help-”

“Hey, woah! You were tired! I let you sleep! I was being nice!”

“Too late now. I’ll be lucky if Sarah lets me within a hundred feet of it!”

“She got you so good, Sammy!”

“I agree with Buck for once! You’re too snippy right now! And c’mon man! Stop flirting with my sister!”

“It’s my natural charm.”

“Charm? What charm?”

“Ouch, doll! That one hurt!”

****************

“Okay.” You stepped out of the bathroom, walking over to the couch and setting the bag down on it. “I’ve got everything packed. We’ve got a little over an hour until we need to head out which gives you two time to go set something up for Sammy and maybe even a bit or training before we leave.” 

Bucky frowned. “You’re not gonna come out?”

“I will in a bit. I just got a phone call I need to take.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Government call?”

You gave a mocking smile. “Can you guess what they want to talk about? It’s okay. I’ll survive. It’s only a phone call, so I can always hang up. Pretend I didn’t have good service. I do it all the time.”

“I’m sure you do.” Sam chuckled. “In that case, I’m gonna go grab some stuff and get the shield.” As he walked out, he made sure to mouth at you behind Bucky’s back ‘conversation’ making you swallow thickly. You were planning on talking to Bucky anyways, and with Sam’s insistence…

“Okay, so, I was thinking when we get back-”

“Can I talk to you?”

Bucky stopped digging through the bag, blinking at you in surprise at your sudden burst. “Uh…well, we already are, so yes.” He chuckled, straightening and crossing his arms.

“I wanna have the conversation.”

He was left stunned, once again, his mouth opening and closing and his weight shifting form one foot to the other. “Like…that conversation? R-right now? Are you sure?”

You winced at her nervousness. “Sorry, sorry. I know it’s kinda…I just…I need to talk about it. Now.”

“Okay, okay. No, that’s fine. Don’t apologize. I just wasn’t expecting it.” Bucky cleared his throat. “That’s all.”

“Okay…” You breathed with a small nod. You opened your mouth, but Bucky shook his head.

“I hafta say this first; I didn’t mean to hurt you by telling you about Steve. I-I dunno what I thought. That it’d give you closure or something. I dunno. But it hurt you and I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention.”

“Buck-”

“I was jealous. And guilty. And mad. And upset. I still am. Kinda. I guess. I dunno.” Bucky shook his head, running his hand through his hair and all you could do was gape at him as he started confessing to you. “Remember when we danced? In Madripoor? Doll…I don’t wanna dance ever again if it’s not with you. I fucking love you, Y/N. And not in the way we’ve said it before. I’m in love with you. I have been for-for a while now. I just - you were Steve’s. Steve loved you and you loved Steve and that was that and I was just the broken childhood best friend. But Steve left and he told me to take care of you and I didn’t know what to do with that, because you still love Steve. I think. I dunno. And I didn’t want to break what we have because you’re all I have left of him. You and that stupid shield. You’re my family. My home. I really meant it when I told you that. And that’s why I couldn’t tell you. Because it means too much for me to break what we have because I fell in love with my best friend’s girl. You know?”

He looked at you with pleading eyes, begging you to understand, but your brain was still trying to process what he was telling you.

“Oh God…” He groaned. “And now I just told you everything and you’re looking at me like that wasn’t what you wanted to hear and now I’m thinking this wasn’t the conversation you were thinking it was going to be-”

You were moving across the room before you could stop yourself, pulling him by the teal Henley you knew was comfortable having worn it to bed before when you visited him in New York, and slanting your lips over his.

His breathing hitched and he froze, and for a hot second you thought you made everything worse, but then he was kissing you back and his hands were on your hips and he was pulling you closer and it felt so fucking good you didn’t want to pull back for air.

“Shut up.” You muttered when you finally did pull back, your forehead against his, your eyes clenched shut. “Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up.” You pulled back to look up at him, chests heaving against each other, your eyes prickling. “I’m not good at this. I’m not good at opening up. I only ever was good at it with Steve but Bucky…I’ve been doing it with you. This whole time and I didn’t even realize it until the conversation in the car.”

He reached up to cup your cheeks, wiping away the relieved tears that were falling from the weight you were finally getting off your chest.

“I love you. I’m in love with you. How could I not be? After all that time in Wakanda? I was never Steve’s girl, Bucky. I wanted to be. Dammit, did I wanna be, but I wasn’t. Not really. And he’s gone. But you’re not. And I don’t know why it took me so long to see that. That you’re the one in front of me. You’re the one who held me when I needed it once he left. You’re the one that would listen to my rambles that I’m just realizing was most of our phone calls. You’re not just the broken childhood friend. Don’t ever think that. I don’t pick up the phone at five in the morning after searching for a friend until two for just anyone. Even Steve’s best friend. And I’m such an idiot because I’ve been pushing away my feelings all these years for Steve and then I let them out with you at the wrong time, because I love Steve, Bucky, but I’m not in love with him. Not since I fell in love with you. And I know it doesn’t make sense, but Steve was the first one I cared about and that’s just how I feel and I can try to explain, but-”

His lips crashed onto yours again and you could taste the salty tears that were pouring down your cheeks, but you didn’t care. He was holding you and he was kissing you and it was even more perfect than you thought it’d be.

“You’re adorable when you ramble, but Jesus Christ, shuddup, doll.” He breathed. “Just tell me you love me. Tell me you love me just a fraction of how much I love you.”

You looked up into those ocean eyes, your own shining with earnest affection. “James Buchanan Barnes. I love you.”

“That’s all I need to know.” He murmured against your lips, holding your head against his, still wiping away your tears. It felt like with each one that fell, you felt lighter and lighter. Like they were taking away every fear and anxiety you held within you for the past six months.

“Alright! I was thinking we could just set up in these trees out here - holy shit! Is it done? Did you do it? Did I miss it? Has the conversation been had?”

Bucky chuckled as you giggled. “He has the worst timing.” The last two words were loud enough so Sam could hear, although the man heard the whole sentence. 

“I’m gonna take that as a yes!” Sam cheered. “Halle-fucking-lujah! Finally! I was that close to locking you two in the attic.”

You shook your head at Sam’s personal celebration, drowning the rest of his words out as you looked at Bucky, who swept his thumb over your cheek catching one last tear, before pecking your lips.

“I finally get to kiss where I really want to.” He spoke softly, kissing your lips again. “Are you mine, doll?”

“I thought you said I’d always be your doll.” You answered cheekily. He grinned, kissing you again, pulling you against him by the hips.

“Okay, okay! That’s enough! We get it! You’re in love, finally, but I don’t wanna see it anymore! Now will you come help me with this shit?”

Bucky left one more lingering kiss on your lips, before you pushed him away reluctantly. “I’ll be right out.”

He nodded, moving over to help Sam carry the things he’d gathered.

You watched them put it all up from the window, gnawing on your cheek as you spun your phone in your hands. Coming to a decision, you tossed your phone in the duffle bag and walked out with it just as the boys finished.

“That was a quick phone call.” Sam raised an eyebrow.

You shrugged. “Didn’t call them. If they really need me, they’ll find me.”

Bucky grinned as you set the bag down under a tree, pecking your lips when you got close enough for him to grab by the waist to hold you against him. You rolled your eyes, shoving him playfully away and giggling as Sam let out a groan.

“Alright. Let’s see what you’ve got, Sammy.”

~

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Bucky knew he needed the tough love talk Sam was giving him. He needed to hear it. Because, deep down, he had known it all along, he just refused to believe it. He tried doing it. Making amends. He knew he wasn’t though. And of course he knew immediately who that one person would be.

“And hey.” Bucky looked at him. “Let me tell you what. Telling my girl all that you told her? That’s a good start. I’m proud of you. Both of you. You’re already happier. I can see it in your eyes.”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head as he thought of the gorgeous woman he nearly let slip through his fingers. He looked over to the house, where she was inside somewhere getting ready after suddenly deciding she needed to shower before they left. “I was stupid.”

“Yeah you were. You both were. I’m so relieved it’s over.” Sam nudged him. “Treat her right, Buck. She deserves it.”

“I know…I just hope I can.”

Sam shook his head. “Uh-uh. Don’t do that. You were just starting to use that cyborg brain of yours! She chose you. And before you say anything,” Sam cut Bucky off from speaking as he opened his mouth to object. “She chose you before Steve left. It just took her dumbass this long to realize it.”

Bucky nodded, a small smile on his face. “Yeah…okay…” Before he could say anything, the goddess herself stepped out, jogging over, looking absolutely amazing in her jeans and his t-shirt. “Good talk.”

Sam laughed at his quick ending of the conversation as she came up besides them. “Talking about me?” She asked cheekily, eyes shining. Bucky couldn’t help but take her under his arm, pecking her lips. Now that he could, he didn’t think he could stop. He was addicted to say the least.

Throwing Bucky a wink, Sam shrugged. “Just all the things that get on our nerves.”

“Ha ha.” She rolled her eyes. “We better get going.”

Bucky and Sam clapped hands. “You know Karli won’t quit.”

Bucky smiled. “Ah. You call us when you have a lead and we’ll be there.”

Y/N stepped forwards to give Sam a hug. “Anytime, Sammy.”

“Eh. Anytime between noon and midnight.” Bucky corrected. “Or noon and ten. Noon and five…you better just call at noon to be safe.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Sure, sure.”

“Not necessarily as a team.” Bucky continued, grabbing the bag, getting Y/N back in her spot at his side under his arm.

“Nope!”

“We’re not that good.”

“Definitely not.”

“We’re professionals.”

“Definitely.”

“And, uh, we’re partners.”

Sam snapped, pointing at him. “Coworkers.”

“But we’re also a couple of guys with a couple mutual friends.”

“Ones now gone and you’re dating the other.”

“So we’re a couple of guys…with a badass to help out.”

“I can live with that.”

“Perfect.”

“Oh my God.” Y/N let out that laugh Bucky could never get enough of, shaking her head at the two of them. “You forgot dumbasses.”

Sam shook his head. “Nuh-uh. That’s your couple name.”

“Dumbasses?”

“Oh yeah.” The three of them came to a stop, Bucky and his girl - God he loved confirming it now - facing Sam. “Thanks for the help, guys. Meant a lot.”

Bucky patted his shoulder. “Of course.”

Y/N shot him a wink. “Until we meet again, Sammy.”

“Until then, cher.”

Bucky couldn’t stop his grin as she wrapped her arms around his waist, the two of them starting to walk to the main road where she already ordered an Uber. He looked down at her, kissing her lips for the nth time in the past hour.

“I wish I didn’t wait so long,” he told her seriously. “But I’d wait a thousands more centuries if it meant I get to call you mine.”

She giggled, shaking her head. “You’re such a sap! But…” she moved up to kiss him and his heart stuttered. He knew he had a goofy grin on when she pulled back, but he couldn’t help it. Especially when she laughed again. “I have to agree with you on that, Buckaroo.”

[v4mpfilm]

Party Monster [Fezco x Reader]

Chapter Two: Red

masterlist

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ summary: You finally broke up with Nate after months of torture however drugs are becoming the new Nate in your life. Your drug dealer won’t allow this though.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○ Content warnings: episode 4 spoilers, verbal and physical abuse, gaslighting, blood, drug use, cursing, the usual euphoria content! (if I am missing anything please inform me so I can add it!)

Song recs for this chapter:

Do what you want, Be what you are - Daryl Hall & John Oates

Hearing Damage - Thom Yorke

Listen To Me - Lilly Palmer

Chemical Substance - Belocca

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

The bass bumped as you held the walls with your palms. It felt as if the world was spinning You didn't really mind it though because all you cared about was Fez asking any type of question about the bruise. You didn't want him to know anything

It may have not seemed like it but you were starting to like Fez. When you had met him at the beginning of your drug dependency you fell immediately for him. He seemed to really want to know you. Of course, distance was kept because you were dating Nate. But you did daydream about him.

Daydreams were an escape from your boyfriend. Nate was cold, abusive, and knew how to dig deep. So, sometimes you'd think of how it would be if you dated Fez. Your thoughts would race of a life with Fez. Tiny details like what kind of dog you would get together or how he liked his breakfast made were already thought about by you. It'd be for a second and you'd scold yourself for such foolishness but that second felt like a lifetime. He was kind of like a drug in that way.

His presence was addictive and any time he called you a nickname or looked you in the eyes you wanted him all to yourself. That need to hold him and kiss him was all you felt when near him. But those words have always rung out when you got too close.

"Who would want to be with someone so weak?" Nate's voice echoed.

Maybe Nate was right. Maybe Fez would never want you for how weak you were. You'd never admit it to anyone or yourself, but Fez seeing your bruise proved that statement to you. Fez would never want someone who let that happen. How could anyone love someone so weak?

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

After many failed attempts opening other doors down the hallway, you opened the final door which seemed to be a bathroom. Your smile grew the moment you saw that one person you were dying to see in front of the sink. "Rue!"

Rue had known you for quite some time. You had been there when she needed you most and she was there for you when you needed her most. It was a type of relationship where you didn't need to speak every day to be close. Rue's new relationship was the only reason seeing her was such a surprise. She had got all caught up with Jules and neither of you had spoken for a while since. You thought to yourself sometimes, Jules is the newest drug Rue is addicted to.

Rue didn't look so hot when you looked her over. Her hair was in knots, her skin littered with dark spots, and her eye bags deep and sunken. But you couldn't judge because you didn't look very hot either. This state she was in just meant she had drugs and you were in dire need of some. "Y/N! Man, I saw you slap Nate." She snorted and began to laugh, hunching over the sink and flipping her hair back with a hand when she stood back up. "Mannn that was so funny. Good for you." Rue slurred as she reached in her pocket and pulled out something that made your eyes gleam.

5 pink pills with tiny skulls engraved in them danced in her hand and she smiled at you. She knew exactly what you were wanting her to ask. "Want some Molly?" Of course, you nodded and grabbed two pills from her. Thinking to yourself, a ping of doubt crossed your mind if you should take it. "fuck it." You placed the pills on your tongue and swallowed. Rue giggled and joined in, popping three of them. Now, maybe taking two was your mistake of the night, but what bad could happen from the happiest drug in the world.

Now Molly, Ecstacy, MDMA, or whatever you desire to call it is, again, the happiest drug in the world. For 30 minutes you wait for the come-up, then suddenly you are fed so much serotonin you have no idea what to do. Sometimes you see visuals if the dosage is high but majority of the time your movements are fluid and you can't stop smiling.

Rue and you sat around as you waited for the drug's effects to settle in. The silence wasn't awkward but you knew Rue was dying to ask you something.

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As a loud bang was heard from outside the door, you finally felt the plateau of your high. "Get the fuck out! I need to pee," screamed a familiar voice from the other side. "Come on!" You reached for the doorknob and could feel the cold metal against your fingers as you opened the door.

"Maddy! Oh my god! Where were you?" You grinned at her, your pupils blown out wide. Now, Maddy knew both of you and she also knew molly. Her face soured and she crossed her arms across her glittered chest. "Holy fuck, Y/N." Before she could even say another word, Rue had grabbed your hand and pulled you through the hallway.

The hallway blended together as you ran, the colors becoming bright and blurry. Reaching out, you touched the cold wall and giggled to yourself before Rue launched the both of you into a dancing crowd.

The world was just bliss, colors swimming around you. You felt as if the world was just where it was supposed to be. Noticing Rue's hand still in your's, you began to dance with each other. She spun you, you spun her. It was really a lot of fucking spinning, to be honest.

You felt like the world was giving you a big hug and you could feel tears swelling up in your eyes. The hug was warm and caring almost like a motherly embrace. You must have been spinning for 30 minutes but you were so consumed in it. Even though you didn't ever want to stop, you saw someone push through the crowd and stop you.

Coldness washed over you the moment you saw that it was Jules who popped out of nowhere right in front of you. She didn't look very happy. To the side of her, Elliot stood. You didn't know him well but he always gave you bad energy. Something was happening here. "Rue, are you on drugs?" You heard Jules say. Her face was so hurt and all you could think was "Jules needs to be on molly too."

Her eyes met you and they softened for a moment before she grabbed Rue. "Why would you get her into this when everyone knows she's-" You lost track of them as Jules continued to pull Rue away from you and out of the crowd. Elliot nodded at you and followed them out.

Now if you were sober, you'd feel utter dread of being left alone but at the moment you couldn't give two shits. The room breathed with you, danced with you, and saw you for what you were. You didn't need to feel alone. So, you held yourself as you danced. You began to swivel your hips as you moved up and down. You couldn't even recall the last time you had loved yourself like this. The red lights flashed around you as people danced but you didn't notice.

This was a moment for you. But even in your moment, someone had to make it about themselves. Two hands landed on your hips and began to dance with you, for a moment you thought it was Fez so you smiled to yourself. You wished for it to be Fez.

Slowly turning around with a smile, you saw Nate close up and in your face. His hand reached for your chin and held it. "Still mine." Nate drunkenly slurred to you. Your mind raced, your body began to sweat, and your teeth chattered. Of course, it wasn't Fezco. Nate would never let you go.

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Fezco placed his joint between his lips as he watched Y/N wobble down the hallway and into the bathroom. If he didn't actively choose to stay on the couch, then his legs would've picked him up and gone right to you. He gently inhaled and blew out a cloud of smoke, thinking to himself before he turned his head and saw Nate near the bar of the house.

Now, for anyone else, Fez would be sorry for them. But he was never sorry for Nate. Not only did he just hate him for having you but now he was suspicious Nate had something to do with the bruises that danced across your pretty (Y/S/C) skin. If he would ever find out about that, he might have to turn his fantasy of Ash smashing his brains into reality.

Snapping out of his thoughts, He watched Nate take shots one by one near his nervous friend. Fez was pretty sure his friend's name was McKay? But he was never very good at names.

Before he could exhale his hit from his joint, a girl whose name he always got wrong tapped his shoulder and sat beside him. Fez coughed and gave a chuckle. He didn't realize he had stared at Nate that long. "Damn, Jewel, you scared me shitless." She laughed and Elliot joined her on the couch. "Sup, man." He smiled and dabbed him up.

Now, Fezco was great at reading people and what he seemed to read from this new guy was that he was not as nice as Jules and Rue thought. "Hey." He nodded and turned his attention back to Jules. "Where Rue at?" He asked and leaned back against the couch, sinking deeper into it.

"Um, well I don't know." She giggled nervously and glanced at Elliot. Fez noted this and interrupted Jules before she could make a bullshit excuse. "Try to find her for me, I know you brought her but if you're busy" He glanced at Elliot. "Then, I can take her home" Jules quickly shook her head. "No, No, I am not busy. I will find her." She didn't seem to have picked up on what he meant but by the way Elliot played with his sleeves, he had gotten the memo.

While they were talking, Fez hadn't noticed Rue and Y/N dancing in the mob of people. Elliot had, though, and he coughed a little. "I think I see Rue and Y/N."

In sync, Fez and Jules looked over and saw them both. They watched for what seemed like years but it had only been 5 minutes. Jules smiled and rested down into the couch, humming to the music. "Well, I'm glad they're having fun." Fez nodded and still watched them carefully.

He knew that they were high as balls but he let Jules be happy for a moment. You looked so carefree compared to how you looked when he had seen your bruise. Fez's heart stung at the thought. "Why were you hiding from him?" Your little dances made up for the hurt though. He smiled to himself as he watched. Those red lights made you look beautiful.

But after about 20 minutes, Elliot ruined it. He had been anxiously talking to Jules to keep his mind off of the fact that Rue was high. Fezco wanted to punch him for ruining the blissful moment. "Jules, Rue and Y/N are definitely high." Elliot almost laid down after revealing the truth as if it was giving him debilitating anxiety not telling her. "What?!" She immediately stood up and walked her way over to ruin Rue and your spinning. Her arms crossed over her chest tightly in her anger.

Fez yet again just watched you from afar. He wished he could just scoop you up and lay you on the couch to enjoy your high. Seeing a couple fight would ruin anyone's fun time. But, his concern soon went away as he watched you continue your dancing by yourself.

As you seductively danced, Fez gulped. Even watching you enjoy yourself, made him feel some type of way. The way you sang the song, swiveled your hips, and ran your fingers through your (Y/H/T) made him squirm in his seat.

Fez imagined joining you and placing his hands all over your body as he felt your movements. He imagined kissing down your neck, pressing against you, placing his hands on your hips, lifting up-

His imagination was cut short as he noticed Nate take the place of where he should've been. Fez watched as he pressed against you, put his hands on you, and danced with you. His heart ached to see you move with him but the moment he saw your reaction when you turned around he knew something was wrong. He could not watch from afar anymore. He had to step in.

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You had once again become that little frightened girl in Nate's grasp. Your confidence had been flushed down the drain in a matter of seconds. You felt his hand grip into that bruise he had previously created. "P-please let me go, Nate." You whispered, the music so loud that it covered your shaky voice. Nate grinned and gripped harder into your arm, making you yelp. "Nate! Nate, you're hurting me." You cried and tried pulling away as hard as you could. Your vision shook as you stared into his eyes. The once colorful fun room had become dark and gloomy. You could've sworn he grew horns when you looked at him. Nate began to laugh, pushing you to the floor.

The room spun faster and faster the moment you hit the floor on your side. The drugs amplified the pain and you could almost feel the bruise begin to form. Pushing yourself up with a hand, you were knocked straight down again when Nate kicked you straight in the spine. Tears streamed down your face as you screamed out in pain and begged for him to stop. But he wouldn't. He continued to kick and kick as if you weren't someone he used to love. He had never loved you though, you were something he loved to take anger out on. Holding onto yourself, you cried as voices began shouting.

You didn't feel any more kicks from Nate as the voices grew louder and fuzzier. They were so fuzzy you couldn't hear much but a "Fez!" and sounds of violence.

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As Fez made his way to the dance floor, the scene had escalated faster than he had expected. By the time he reached Nate, you were on the floor being kicked. His heart ached as soon as he saw it. You looked so helpless and afraid. That happy girl he once saw was suddenly cowering in fear on the floor. He decided before any more damage could be done to your fragile state he needed to do something. Before he could think, he threw an angry punch right into your ex's jaw. Nate stumbled back, falling straight onto his ass. Fez promised then and there he would never let anyone treat you this way again.

Stepping over Nate, he began to punch his face to a bloody pulp. His fist collided with his nose, chin, cheek, and anywhere else he could muster. Screams echoed across the room and hands began to grab for his shirt to take him off of Nate but all he could keep thinking about was you crying on the floor. "Fez! Stop!" Jules screamed.

Fezco quickly turned to face her, his fist still gripping onto Nate's shirt collar. He, then, saw you.

The sight made his heartache and his eyes burn. You were draped over the front of Jules, your back exposed to him. Even in the red light, he could see the marks Nate had kicked into you turning a mess of blue, purple, and red. It made his stomach churn. If he could, he would've turned right back around and finished the job on Nate.

But he knew he needed to be there for you. His fist let go of Nate's collar and he ran himself over to you. Fez's hands gentle picked you up and placed your chest to his. "Wrap your legs around me," Fezco spoke softly in your ear and you did so. It was really the only way to carry you without touching your bruising back. "Ash! Start the car!" He shouted out and nodded at Jules and Rue to follow.

Rushing out into the car, he heard a faint whisper from you as he rested you down in the back seat. "Thank you, Fez." Even in all that pain, you were smiling at him.

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A/N: Hope you all enjoyed this chapter!! Fez's house is next <3 If you have any requests for fanfic ideas, send them in!

[backtobackbakubabe]

Speak Easy Part 3

Bakugo x Reader

Words: 4892

Masterlist

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by “heroes” Now that she’s out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together?

Words with 'this' is dialogue written in her journal rather than said out loud and and words with ~this~ is dialogue said in sign language rather than out loud.

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Dabi had laid you down gently in the back seat of his car, taking off his jacket to lay over you. You wanted to fall asleep you really did. But the consistent pain coming from your hip was enough to keep you awake, but not enough for you to pass out. You hugged the jacket around you that smelled like smoke and coffee.

You don’t know much time passed but eventually you were being pulled from the backseat. He picked you up bridal style and made his way to the house, “Look at you. We’re not even married, and you already have me carrying you over the threshold.”

When you didn’t react to his little joke he sighed, “Wow tough crowd, okay.”

He walked straight to the couch and put you down before immediately jogging to the kitchen to grab some first aid supplies… amongst other things.

He came back and sat on the table that was in front on the couch and maneuvered you so your injured hip was accessible to him. “Okay this is going to sting for a little bit, but I’m going to need you to stay still until I’m done.” Without any more warning then that he poured what smelled like vodka on the wound.

It stung like a bitch, causing you to dig your nails into the cushion of the couch and grit your teeth so hard you were surprised they didn’t crack.

He started to wipe it down with some kind of cloth. Cleaning all the dried blood and sweat from you. You were practically panting now trying to breathe through the sharp pain. “That’s it. Keep breathing. Good girl. I’m almost done.” He taped a bandage over it before pulling your hoodie back down. “There. Good as new.”

He helped you sit up a little so he could give you a glass of water, which you were incredibly thankful for. “Alright… so I have all the good stuff. Anything you could want really.” He pulled out several bottles of pills.

You didn’t know what was in those bottles, but you knew you didn’t want any. You’ve had enough drugged out days to last a lifetime. So as much as you knew it’d help with the pain, you didn’t want it. You just met Dabi less than twelve hours ago. You didn’t know what kind of bullshit he’d pull once you went under.

You shook your head no and pointed to the bottle of vodka. You may not want pills, but a shot wouldn’t kill you.

He chuckled, “Okay tough guy. Whatever you say.” He walked back to the kitchen and returned with two of the biggest shot glasses you had ever seen. “Let’s get this party started huh?” He poured two shots and handed one to you. “To life off the grid.”

You both threw your shots back. He with no reaction, you however immediately started coughing.

His hand rubbed a circle on your back, “Look at you. Took it like a champ. Didn’t even need a chaser.” He poured another shot for himself and brought it up to his lips but stopped when he saw you looking at him. “What? You didn’t think I’d give you more than one, did you? Oh no, no, no. With how tiny you are? Not to mention your tolerance has probably gone to shit. I think one is plenty for now.”

Well jokes on him. Just because you seem weak doesn’t mean you are. He’s not going to tell you how much you can and can’t drink. You scooted to the edge of the couch, wincing a little as you did. You scooped up the bottle of vodka and took a swig straight from the bottle.

You saw something flash behind his eyes, but he immediately hid it behind a playful smirk, “I don’t know if you’re a badass or a brat. Only time will tell. But I’ll have you know that in my house… My word is law. I’m just trying to help you after all.” He tore the bottle from your hands before securing the lid, giving it an extra hard squeeze to keep you from opening it again. “But because this is your first night here, and you’re hurt, and I really am a nice guy. I’ll let it slide this once…. So? You still want some ice cream?”

You nodded as you reached for your notebook but was alarmed when you couldn’t find it. You could already feel the light feeling of a buzz taking over, but you refused to let Dabi know he was right about your tolerance.

“What’s up? What are you looking for?” You made a gesture with your hands as if you were writing something down. “Ah, right. The handy dandy notebook. It’s probably in the car. I’ll go grab it.” He took a few steps away before coming back to grab the bottle of vodka, mumbling something about how he refuses to clean up your puke.

You took this time while he was away to get a better look at the place. It was very minimalistic. Lots of greys, whites, and blacks. The couch felt just as expensive as the giant tv on the wall looked. From what you could see of the kitchen, it looked nice. The shiny appliances were either kept impeccably clean, or never used. Was this his house? It hardly looked lived in.

“Alright got the notebook. How about you pick something to watch while I scoop some ice cream. What do you want? One for Vanilla, two for chocolate, three for cookies and cream.”

You held up three fingers. You were amazed at how well he was adjusting to communicating with you already. He had just accepted that you weren’t talking and went with it.

“Cookies and cream huh? I thought you’d be more of a fan of vanilla.” He chuckled. “The remot is on the side table next to you. The TV is rigged so you can basically watch whatever you want. Just type it into the search bar.”

You picked up the remote and quickly started scanning through channels. Your finger accidentally brushed the microphone button and you froze at the loud beeping noise that signaled it was listening.

Dabi had made his way over with two bowls both with cookies and cream. He saw the face you made at the remote before taking it from you and replacing it with a bowl of ice cream. “Hey none of that pouty shit. It’s not cute. This is temporary, you’ll be talking again in no time.”

He looked at the screen, “Okay one for anime, two for live action.” You held up one finger. “Okay, One for thriller, two for action, three for comedy. Four for romance.” You held up two fingers. “Oh, thank god I really thought you were going to pick romance. Okay I’m going to scroll through them, just tap my shoulder when you want me to stop.”

He scrolled for a while before you stopped him at Naruto. “Ah a classic. Good pick. Now get comfy. I have a feeling you’re gonna pass out before the first episode is even over.”

Sure enough, soon after finishing your bowl of ice cream you felt your eye lids drooping. A part of you was still nervous to fall asleep. But seeing as you just had a wild 24 hours… there was no way in hell you were fighting sleep for long.

“You ready for bed yet?” You sleepily nodded your head and started to slide down so you could lay down on the couch. “Oh no you don’t.” He scooped you up and headed down a hallway. He entered a rather large room with a bathroom attached and tossed you onto the bed causing the wound in your hip to throb. “Okay welcome to you room, this your bed, that is your bathroom. I will be right across the hall. I’d say yell if you need something but… well you know. So… try to not need me. Have a good night.”

You grabbed his wrist before he could get far, “What don’t tell me you’re like afraid of the dark or something.” He turned around to see your blushing face as you pointed to the bathroom and then to yourself. “Ooooooh, okay. Right. So, is this like a you need to pee situation? Or did you like… want to shower? Not that I’m against helping you take a shower…” He smirked at you.

You rolled your eyes and held up one finger. “Okay, okay, but you will eventually have to shower. But I guess we can figure that out tomorrow.” There was a wicked gleam in his eye that could only be compared to a child who was plotting on how to steal a cookie from the cookie jar.

He had been pretty patient while waiting for you to finish going to the bathroom, but he was still just as rough as he tossed you back onto the bed. “Alright, so, to reiterate, I’m right across the hall. Try to not need me. Good night.”

You sank into the bed the second the door closed behind him. You were alone. You were free and you were alone. Twenty-four hours ago, you had been strapped to a bed with shock collar on. You curled into a ball and cried. You wanted this to be the last time you felt sorry for yourself, so you wanted to get it all out now. Tomorrow was the first day of your new life and you didn’t plan on wasting a single second of it.

It didn’t take long for you to cry yourself to sleep considering how exhausted you were. What would have surprised you however was the fact that Dabi was sitting just outside the door listening to you muffled sobs, clenching his fists in rage.

It wasn’t until he heard you screaming that he realized he had fallen asleep there. On his feet in seconds he ran into your room. What he saw shook him a little bit. You had kicked all of the blankets off the bed. Soaked in sweat and tears. Your body was jerking around so hard it looked painful. You were having a nightmare, likely due to PTSD.

Shit what did he do? He’s no stranger to bad dreams, but he also knows he could make it worse if he doesn’t do this right. “Hey y/n. Y/N! I need you to wake up honey. It’s just a dream. You’re safe. Y/n. Y/N! Come on now follow my voice. Wake up for me yeah? You’re okay, I promise.” He reached out and as lightly as he possibly could touched your cheek.

You were burning up. He cursed as he tried to peel your soaked hoodie off of you. He started to shake your shoulder a little harder. But all that did was make you panic and thrash around. So he grabbed you and held you to him. “God Damnit Y/n. Wake up!”

He felt the tension leave your body only for a moment before you started to try and push him off of you.

He immediately dropped his arms and pushed away from you. “Hey you’re okay. It’s just me. Remember your hero pals saved you yesterday and now we’re roomies.” He could see the confusion in your eyes start to fade as you woke up. “Believe me I understand. I’d be scared too if I woke up in a weird place with my ugly mug lookin at you.”

He reached for your journal and tried to hand it to you. “You want to talk about it?”

You shook your head and hugged your knees to your chest. He nodded and put the journal back on the nightstand. “That’s okay. You don’t have to…” He wasn’t very good at this part. Talking about emotions and shit. “Yeah so uh… I can get you a different shirt.” He could see the goosebumps already raising on your arms. Now that the panic and adrenaline had subsided you were damp and cold. “And I can get a warm bath going if you want? He looked at the clock. It’s 5:30, which in ungodly early for me, but if you’re up I guess we can go ahead and start the day… How does that sound?”

You refused to look him in the eye and settled for a shrug of your shoulders, letting your knees drop from your chest. He could see straight through your tank top and was pleasantly surprised to find that under that baggie hoodie you had some nice tits.

He liked his lips and lucky for him, you were too busy avoiding eye contact that you didn’t even notice. “Alright well I tried being nice in giving you an option so now I’m telling you. You’re taking a bath.” He picked you up and walked towards the bathroom. “I’ll get the water going. Do you think you can manage making it from the toilet to the tub without me?”

Again, you shrugged which was quickly becoming one of his biggest pet peeves. He groaned, “One for yes, two for no. No more fucking shrugging.”

You nodded and held up one finger. “Alright, that wasn’t that hard was it?”

Without waiting for an answer he knew he wasn’t going to get he started the water and left you to it.

He went out to the car to grab the backpack the mini might kid had packed for you. Then into his room to grab you a clean shirt. He was going to leave the items outside the bathroom door until he heard a thump followed by a groan.

“Y/n? Did you fall down?” A very long pause later and you hit the side of the tub once. “Okay do you need help getting up?” Another long pause before you hit the side twice. “Are you sure?” He desperately wanted you to say no. Not to sound like a perv, but he’d love to get a quick peek at you.

Two hits on the tub sounded. “Okay, I’m coming in.” He opened the door almost too quickly. There you were sitting on the floor, back against the tub, completely naked. He had expected you to try and hide yourself from view, but was shocked when you practically reached for him, baring your entire chest for him to drink in.

He stopped for a moment before picking you up. “I’m not going to pick you up like I usually do. Instead I’m going to help you stand, and hold you while you try to get in yourself. We gotta start working on those legs.” You looked nervous but nodded anyways.

He hooked his hands under your armpits and pulled against him in standing position. His pinkies barley brushing the outside of your breasts and even that little bit drove him crazy. But he contained himself. The last thing he needed was you randomly activating your quirk and figuring out what a horn dog he is.

You weakly attempted to raise your right leg high enough to get into the tub. You were almost there, you almost had it. “That’s it, you’re doing so well. Just a little more, come on you can do it.” Whether you knew it or not, your ass was pushing back into Dabi’s crotch and he wasn’t going to make it much longer. So he lifted you a little higher making it easier for you to step in. “OKAY, I think one leg is good enough progress for now.” He sat the rest of you in gently before quickly turning away calling over his shoulder, “Alright, I’ll be back in… ten minutes to help you back out.”

You waited until he was gone to let a small giggle out. It honestly took you by surprise. It was the first time you had made a noise that wasn’t out of pain in a while. But just remembering the blush of his cheeks when you reached for him was enough to have you smile to yourself.

Before all of this happened to you were no stranger to being naked. In fact, you loved it. Maybe it was some weird side effect of your quirk. But you loved being naked, being intimate, having sex. To you there was no better bliss. You craved it. Your quirk allowed you all the control you could ever want, but there was something so intoxicating about giving that control over completely to someone else. To be praised, to be worshipped, to be adored.

Well at least that was the way you were before. Before you weren’t allowed to touch anyone, or look at them, or… speak to them. What if you were different now? What if being controlled for so long, being forced to do things against your will… what if it changed you?

The thought made you sad. You briefly considered testing the waters with Dabi, but quickly shook that from your head. And it wasn’t even the fact he was a villain, as much as you hate to admit it, you’d slept with villains before. But could you even consider him a villain anymore. You could see what Todoroki had meant by saying he was neither hero nor villain.

No, the biggest reason you needed to keep your hands off Dabi is because he was nice enough to take you in. You don’t need to jeopardize your safety just to curb your cravings.

You quickly scrubbed your body clean and did your best to wash your hair, but it was a nightmare. Your hair was crazy long now and the knots and tangles were just impossible to get through. You wined in frustration as your fingers yet again got stuck.

“You know I could always shave your head, I’m sure you could pull it off.” You stuck your tongue out at him as he handed you a brush. “Better watch who you’re sticking that tongue out at.” He hesitated, “Arms up, time to get out.”

You felt like a child, but you obeyed without protest. Earning you a “good girl” that sent shivers down your spine. “Hm? Do you like it when I praise you?”

You shrugged and avoided eye contact and you could feel the growl rip through is chest. “What did I say about fucking shrugging?”

You bit your lip and pulled yourself closer to him so he couldn’t see your blushing face.

Like a sack of potatoes, you were tossed onto to the bed. He tossed you a pair of clean underwear and one of his shirts that would easily come down to your knees. Once you were dressed, he roughly pulled you to the edge of the bed and sat between your legs.

Your heart rate spiked, and you let out an excited gasp. His hand smoothed up your thigh, “Relax, I’m just putting a new bandage on your hip. Don’t get so excited.” He examined the shallow wound and you winced. It took everything in him not to place a kiss right over your wound. He’d made that mark on you. It would definitely scar and as twisted as it sounded… he liked that.

He started to tape the new bandage down. One of his hands rubbed the inside of your thigh, while the other made sure the bandage was secure. God he just wanted to bite into the soft flesh in front of him. He took a deep breath to steady himself, but he was absolutely not prepared for… was you winding your fingers through his white locks.

“Y/n… what?” Your fingers tightened causing him to groan and let lose. He started to kiss the meaty part of your thigh, biting ever few kisses drawing sweet sounds from your lips that made him wonder what your voice sounded like. He made his way up to your hip and kissed right above the bandage before licking up from you belly button and up your sternum, pushing your shirt… well his shirt up as he went. He grabbed one of your tits in one hand while he sucked on the other nipple. Your hips bucked up as his hand traveled south. As soon as his hand started to sneak past your underwear something in you snapped.

You couldn’t do this. Not now. Something wasn’t right. You felt trapped under his body weight, you couldn’t breathe. Too much, you weren’t ready.

You pushed at his hand and whined until finally he got the message. He stopped and looked at your confused eyes, “Shit… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I-I guess I misread that one.” He pulled your shirt back down and knelt in front on you on the bed. “I guess we should set some rules huh?”

Rules… rules… follow the rules.

You yanked your gaze down to stare at your hands that you had folded in your lap. Don’t look, don’t talk, don’t touch.

He reached for one of your hands, but you yanked it back shaking your head. “Hey look at me.” You continued to stare into your lap. He swore under his breath, “Please… look at me. I need to know what I did or said that freaked you out so bad. This is what I mean when I said we need rules-“ You flinched. “Oh is the word rules?”

You started to shrug before you remembered he wouldn’t like that. You lifted a shaky hand and picked up your journal and handed it to him open to the first page. You snuck a glance at his expression as he read over them. His face was expressionless as he read over your list of rules. “Hm… sounds kinky.”

He looked around for something to write with before coming to sit next to you, making sure to give you plenty of space. “Okay so how about instead we have laws?” You gave a quick shrug before nodding in agreement. He narrowed his eyes at you, “And law number one. No fucking shrugging.”

He handed the pen to you, “You’re turn. Write something down.” You gave him a questioning look, “Don’t worry about it, if I don’t like it, I’ll just draw a line through it. We’re brainstorming here.”

You wrote down “No drugs.” You heard him groan but he nodded anyways.

“Okay fine but then you have to make eye contact when talking to me. Doesn’t matter if it’s verbal or not.”

You went on like that for a while until you had a new set of “laws”

You had agreed to workouts in the pool to get your strength back up and he agreed to try and learn sign language with you.

The last law he added however was “I will not initiate the sexy time without written or verbal consent.”

You rolled your eyes and went to push him away but he dodged you easily enough. He quickly stood up throwing you over his shoulder. “Alright enough of that. We have a long day ahead of us.”

You helped him make breakfast while he explained that this house was one of many that he owned under different aliases. This one was the most secluded and had the best security system.

You were still picking at your pancakes when he sat next to you at the kitchen island bringing a laptop with him. “I’m not helping you down from here until you eat every last bite. Law number 7- Eat three full meals a day. Need to put some meet on those bones.”

He pulled up a website that had a video queued up that said introduction to sign language. “Okay before we get going 1 for tea, 2 for coffee.”

Your eyes lit up as you held up 2 fingers and scurried to grab your journal. ‘Can you put some milk in it?’ It had been so long since you had coffee and the thought had you bouncing with excitement.

He read it and gave you a thumbs up. “Go ahead and start the video, I’m just over here.”

And that’s how you set into your routine. Every day you’d sleep in until you decided to get up. Eat a big breakfast. Work on sign language. Eat Lunch. Do some kind of workout in the pool. Relax and watch TV. Eat dinner. Take a bath. Go to bed.

You did this every day for the past two weeks and you could already tell a difference. You and Dabi had learned a few basics in sign. Only a few words, but it was a start. But Dabi’s favorite part was helping you walk.

Not that he didn’t like carrying you, but this was just as much fun. He’d hold you under the armpits from behind and he’d let you stand on his feet like a child. You still couldn’t walk on your own, but you were so close. Every day you felt stronger and you knew it was only a matter of time.

Today marks sixteen days that you had been here. You watched as Dabi cleaned up the rest of breakfast. You frowned as you thought about how much he did for you and how little you gave in return. You hadn’t noticed him walk over to you until his hand was lifting your chin to look at him. “Pool time?”

You nodded and signed back ~Pool time~. You reached your arms up to be picked up and he easily complied, no worse than a trained dog.

“You’ve gained weight. I can tell.”

You looked horrified as you slapped his shoulder. ~rude~

He chuckled, “Hey don’t get all huffy about it. It’s a good thing. You were way too skinny before. You looked like a strong breeze would blow you over and break all of your bones.” He stopped at the edge of the pool giving you a wicked look. “Now you’re starting to look healthy again. Healthy enough for me to do this and not feel bad about it.”

He tossed you into the pool, clothes and all. You sputtered to the surface but didn’t have to struggle long before he was behind you leading you to the shallow end. “You’re fine. Almost there, don’t be so dramatic.”

He led you to the wall you usually hold on to for your exercises and let you go. You growled as you flipped him off. Idiot doesn’t need to know sign language to understand that one.

You pulled your wet shirt off and tossed it over to one of the lounge chairs. Leaving you in just a bra and underwear, which is how you normally did these exercises. Dabi had requested the heroes send a bathing suit in the next care package, but it hadn’t arrived yet.

He reached around your middle section and pulled you away from the wall after you had done a couple sets of squats and leg kicks. “Okay now lets see how you do without the wall.” He turned you around to face him and slowly backed away only holding your elbows now. “Okay now lets take a lap around the shallow end shall we?”

At first your steps were more like tiny shuffles. “It’s gonna take us all damn day if you don’t start taking bigger steps. Come on you can do it. Pick those feet up!”

You gave him a harsh glare. He knew you couldn’t fight back right now because your hands were too busy gripping his arms for support.

You started taking larger steps and then larger ones and then eventually you had made it almost all the way around. Dabi stepped back and completely. “Okay just a few more steps. I think you can do them on you own. Come on baby girl. Just a few steps. You can do it.”

You nodded enthusiastically, of course you could. It was just a few steps. You could do this. You reached your hands out to the side and took your first step by yourself. Your eyes lit up at the feeling. Sure, it was only in the pool, but that was progress! “That’s it! Good girl, keep going!” You reached for him as you took another step, followed by another and another and then suddenly he was picking you up. “Hell yeah! Atta girl! Good job. I think that earned you some kind of reward.” He gave the top of your head a quick kiss as he started to carry you out of the pool.

Your head was singing with his praises, and your body was buzzing with adrenaline after crossing such a huge milestone. He carried you to his room where he pulled out another shirt for you to wear. “Okay so about that rewar-“

He was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. His eyes went dark. No one was supposed to know where this place was. He quickly picked you up and sprinted to the office. There was a secret false wall panel that led to a saferoom. He had told you of its existence in case he ever needed to hide you, but you hadn’t actually seen it. He was in the process of opening up the wall when a familiar flash of blonde hair showed on the security monitor. You pinched his shoulder and pointed.

He looked at what you were pointing at and groaned. “What the fuck is he doing here?”

***************************

tags: @falling4fandoms @wifunozomi @here-in-never-land @whore-for-anime @klecksstorys @aurorahoneybuns @theunknownrandom @insane-without-delirium @frenchsfryys @officiallydarkgeek @neofixcs

[wonder-womans-ex]

When In Vegas

It was loud in the locker room the next morning, but Saint was quiet.

Three days had passed since someone else’s world had been turned upside down, and Saint wasn’t sure whether he was more angry or scared—or relieved that it hadn’t been him.

Those fucking pictures, god. He had stared for hours, maybe more, hands frozen around his phone. The knowledge was unbearable—someone had done this. Someone was out to get people like them.

People like him.

But, in a way, it was also liberating. If he had to guess, he would say that no one had known about Black and Lupin. Judging from the way Tremblay had acted at All-Stars, they probably hadn’t even told their team, and god knew Saint hadn’t told his.

So, really, who was to say he was the only one? Any of the guys here, unlacing their skates beside him, could have grown up amidst thoughts of don’t look and stay silent and focus on the hockey. Any of the guys here could have had boyfriends in high school or college. Any of them could still.

He reveled in the thought. Maybe he wasn’t alone.

Black. Lupin. Tweedle.

Three names on a list wasn’t many, but it was better than one.

Saint glanced up when he felt someone watching him. His eyes met a pair of gleaming yellow ones—before meeting Greyback, he hadn’t even known that eyes could be that colour—and he steeled himself, resolutely not looking away.

Greyback smiled, and Saint recoiled internally. If there were others on the team—others in the league—Greyback was certainly not one of them.

As if Saint would ever, in a million years, want him to be.

He pulled off his second skate with one good, sharp tug. His helmet sat on the bench beside him, and he rested one elbow on it briefly. It was common knowledge that playing professional hockey was difficult, but the thing most people didn’t know was how near-impossible it was just putting on and taking off the necessary gear.

Next, after his skates, were his shin pads—big, bulky things that got hot altogether much too quickly, but at least they protected his legs. Then his jersey, his shoulder pads, his pants, until he Saint could finally lift his undershirt over his head and make his way to the showers.

The warm water felt like bliss against his aching muscles, but a part of him still pleaded to skip this bit and head straight home. All he really wanted was to curl up in bed with a bowl of ramen—decidedly not on his diet plan, but, hey, a guy could dream—and an episode of Drag Race.

And, of course, Luke. But he wasn’t allowed to think about that. Not here.

Or maybe, he realized, mind darting back to pictures taken through the windshield of a car, he could.

He had just begun to put on a pair of jeans and a tank top—grey, with the Golden Knights logo on the front and his name and number on the back—when there came a shout from the other side of the locker room.

“Hey, Tweedle!”

It was Pettigrew, one of his teammates, brandishing a ring of keys in the air. “Need a ride?”

Saint forced a smile. “Nah; I’m good. My roommate’s picking me up. Thanks for the offer, though.”

Pettigrew smiled back. “All right. See you tomorrow, Tweedle.”

“Yeah,” said Saint as he turned back to his stall. “See you.”

He packed up his gear in a sort of half-trance, thinking less about where he was and more about where he was soon to be. Saint loved hockey, true, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t love other things, too.

Other people.

The army green jeep was already waiting for him outside. He glanced around briefly, scanning the parking lot for any of his teammates, then pulled open the passenger side door. He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d checked to see if anyone was watching—it was, after all, nothing out of the ordinary: just a completely heterosexual hockey player getting into his completely heterosexual roommate’s car.

“Hey,” Saint said, meeting Luke’s gaze in the rearview mirror and grinning.

“Hey yourself,” Luke responded, a teasing tone to his voice. “How was practice?”

Saint just shrugged. “Same as always, I suppose. What are we having for dinner?”

Many things could be said for Luke Deveaux, and one of them was that he was a master of recognizing a subject change when he heard one. “Thought I’d finally cook up that chicken that’s been sitting in the freezer. Sound good to you?”

“Sounds fucking incredible. You really do know the way to a man’s heart.”

They smiled at each other again as Luke pulled out onto the main road—the soft kind of smile that said everything for them. Carefully, Saint reached out, resting a hand on Luke’s leg. The simple contact was really all they needed as they both looked back out to the road ahead, letting silence envelop them.

Finally, when they came to a stop at the second or third red light, Luke looked over. “What is it?” he asked quietly—genuinely, in a way only he could.

Saint made a noise of confusion. “What’s what?”

“You’re thinking.”

This time, Saint didn’t say anything for quite a while. He kept his eyes forward as the light turned green and Luke began to drive again. Eventually, just as Luke had begun to think that he wouldn’t get a response at all, Saint spoke up: “What if I introduced you to my teammates?”

Luke had a feeling he knew what Saint was getting at, but he wanted to be sure. “I’ve met a couple of them,” he said, slowly. “Pettigrew. Reaves. Dearborn. Greyback—though I didn’t like him much.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Saint said, and took a breath before continuing. “I meant like… what if I introduced you to them as my boyfriend?”

“Husband,” corrected Luke idly, jerking the wheel to the right.

“Right, yeah. But I’d still probably introduce you as my boyfriend, because, y’know—”

“Nineteen.”

“—Elvis.”

Another beat of silence. Another deep breath. “And I just thought—I was thinking that—that…”

Luke waited.

“Obviously I wouldn’t want to come out to the whole world. Not yet,” said Saint, starting again, “but… you know. People know about Black and Lupin—though they didn’t get to tell people; people were told for them. And if I said something, maybe… maybe, if there are others, they’d know… they’d know they aren’t alone.”

It was Saint’s turn to wait, now, as Luke took a left onto a side street and narrowly missed the curb. He swallowed back the slight lump in his throat—he’d said his bit; now it was time for Luke to say his.

“I love you.” Luke’s words were hushed, and, yeah, it was always nice to get reassurance, but that didn’t really clear anything up.

“I love you, too.”

“And I—” Luke sighed. “Can I have a little while? To think about it? Or, rather, not to think about it, but to think about how I’m going to say it.”

Tilting his head, Saint looked thoughtfully over at the man in the driver’s seat. “Yeah. Yeah; of course. Take all the time you need. It was just something I was thinking about.”

“But you’ve been thinking about it for a while.” It wasn’t a question.

“Well, if the better part of three days counts as ‘a while,’ then, yeah; I guess. Consciously, at least. Subconsciously… maybe longer.” He shrugged. “Who knows. All I do know is that I’m absolutely crazy for you, and I’d like someone who isn’t us or the guy who officiated our wedding to know that.”

“Especially because he almost definitely doesn’t remember either of us anymore.”

“Exactly.”

This next pause was different from the previous ones—more pause-like, though that didn’t make sense, even in Saint’s head.

“It’s like,” said Luke, thoughtfully, as he turned onto their street, “remember when we got married? And neither of us said anything about it for almost a month?”

“Yes?”

“Do you remember why?”

“Um, because typically you don’t get married to someone you’ve only been dating for a week and a half?”

The car slowed to a stop in front of their house. Luke pulled the key out of the ignition and sat back in his seat. “Bingo.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Saint asked, tentatively, “And, uh, what does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s like that, because I could only see that going one of two ways: either we stayed in a marriage neither of us was ready for, or we ended both the marriage and the relationship. And so, of course, the solution my nineteen-year-old and slightly stupid self came up with was to ignore the situation entirely. You can’t annul a marriage that you don’t acknowledge exists, right?”

Saint furrowed his brow. “But… we didn’t annul the marriage.”

“Exactly.”

“...I think you’ve lost me.”

“Yeah; probably.” Luke sighed “I’m going about this all wrong. I suppose the thing I keep getting stuck on is that it would make everything more difficult if—you know.”

“No,” Saint said, “I don’t know.”

“If we broke up.” It all came out in one breath, and Luke looked anywhere but at Saint while he said.

Suddenly, Saint found it difficult to breath. “You—you think we’re going to break up?”

“No. No; god, of course not. It’s just one of those irrational fears; yeah? Like, you know the elevator isn’t going to break and send you falling to your death like Tower of Terror, but you still worry about it.”

“Not quite sure I follow.” Saint waited a moment, then added, “So… I take it you aren’t planning on breaking up with me?”

“Nope.” Luke smiled as he said it, popping the p. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for a little while longer.”

“A lot longer, hopefully.”

“Amen to that,” said Saint, then reached to unlock the car door.

“Wait,” Luke said quietly. “I’m… there’s something else.”

Saint turned back, letting go of the door handle. “Yeah?”

“I—” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

“What was it?”

“I just—it’s been five years—or it will have been in a week, technically, but still—and… and I guess I was wondering if you… might like to do it again. That. Without Elvis, this time.”

“What, get married?”

Luke took a breath. “Yeah.”

“Again?”

“Jesus Christ, Saint; weren’t you listening to anything I just said? It doesn’t matter, anyway. Just—forget I said anything.” Now it was Luke’s turn to begin to open the car door, a rush of cold air seeping in through the gap.

“Wait—Tweedle—”

Luke paused. Saint didn’t often call him that, and, even when he did, usually when he was trying to be serious. It was something Saint would say when they were fighting—it was his way of saying I love you; I don’t regret being with you. It was not something Saint would say to someone he didn’t want to be married to.

“Yeah?” Luke didn’t look over—he kept his gaze on the sliver of pavement he could see in the space between the door and the rest of the car—but he could imagine the look on Saint’s face.

“I want to.”

“What?” He knew what Saint had said. He wasn’t asking for clarification. He was giving Saint one last chance to change his mind, and hoping desperately that Saint wouldn’t take it.

“I want to marry you. Fucking hell, of course I want to marry you. Again. Preferably sober this time. Definitely without Elvis.”

A noise that was halfway between a laugh and a sob escaped Luke’s lips. “Is that your way of proposing?”

“Actually, I think it was my way of accepting your proposal. And, either way, it was better than last time, when I think I just stuck my hand up your shirt and called it a day.”

This time, Luke really did laugh. “And they say romance is dead.”

“No kidding.” A pause, then, “Do you still have your ring?”

“Do I still have my—what kind of a question is that? Of course I do! I—” he cut himself off, clearing his throat. “Why? Do you still have yours?”

Saint looked down, avoiding Luke's eyes. His hand went to his neck, where he pulled out a thin gold chain. On it hung the ring Luke had given him so long ago: slightly battered and riddled with notches, but in a way better than it was when they had exchanged them all those years ago, giggling on the alcohol. "Of course I do." His voice was soft—almost timid. "I'm not sure I could have gotten rid of it if I wanted to."

Luke let himself smile. “I wear mine, sometimes, you know,” he said, in a voice nearly as gentle. “When you’re not around.”

“Yeah. I—I do, too.”

“I love you.”

Saint didn’t even think before he did it. He knew, somewhere, that it was a terrible idea—that this was exactly where Black and Lupin had gone wrong—but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Luke was his husband, goddammit, and if he wanted to lean across the console and kiss him until he forgot his own name, then nothing in the world was stopping him.

Well. Nothing except his seatbelt, and even that only took him a few brief moments to discard. Then he was turning in his seat and reaching out and cupping Luke’s cheek in the palm of his hand and whispering “I love you, too,” against his lips.

"God," Saint said, pulling away. "How could I ever have stopped."

Luke quietly laughed, pulling himself away from Saint's lips. "I don't know, love; it could have been you withdrawing yourself from me. It… it almost made me think you—well, not hated me, but at least that you regretted ever getting married."

Saint made a small sound, as if Luke's words were paining him. "I would never." His eyes were starting to water. "I could never. Sure, we were too young; sure, we were drunk. Sure, it was stupid. But it was the best mistake of my life."

Another laugh, this one slightly louder. “Best mistake of mine, too.”

Luke leaned in for another kiss. “Wait,” said Saint, ignoring the noise of protest he got in return. “I have to…”

Saint reached around the back of his neck, sighing in frustration as he fiddled clumsily with the clasp of his necklace. It took him a good ten seconds, but finally he was able to lift it off and slide the ring into the palm of his hand.

The thin gold band fit perfectly around his finger—the weight was familiar; the cheap metal had already been warmed by his body heat, almost as if he had never taken it off.

“People—” Luke cleared his throat. “People will ask questions.”

“I know.”

“And what—what will—”

“What will my answer be?”

“...Yeah.”

“Sweetheart,” murmured Saint, leaning in to brush their noses together, “there’s only ever been one answer.”

“And what’s that?” At this point, Luke was just playing along—and they both knew it.

“You.”

.

amazing characters by @lumosinlove

thank you so much to @im-oknutzy-trash for being my #1 supporter while I tried to get the words to work (and letting me use some of their words when mine inevitably didn't)

note: this is based off that one ask hazel received literal months ago about how if saint were in SW he'd be on the golden knights bc he looks good in gold. no one else seems to remember it, however, so maybe I imagined it. who knows.

and, yes, Saint's last name in this is Tweedle.

[bopbopstyles]

Residue

RATING: R/smut (cw: emotional and mild physical abuse mentioned) 

WORD COUNT: 8.5k eek

CATEGORIES: friends to lovers, camping!harry (?), sleeping in the same bed

NOTE: this is for the Sex Bucket List Fic Challenge from @berrynarrybanana​ - prompt was in a tent while camping with friends....and then I just kind of created this mess. check out the other fics and the amazing creators!!!!

I ENDED UP WRITING A PT.2! Read Endlessly here.

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

“When are you going to tell Y/N?”

Harry looked down at his feet. His boots were scuffed from walking through the rocky terrain to the lake earlier when they’d gone swimming. The image of you in her bikini flashed through his mind, and he restrained from groaning--he’d known you for years, swam with you for years, and yet seeing you in that bikini still did things to him, no matter how much he tried to tell himself you didn’t feel the same way about him. “She doesn’t feel the same way.”

Mitch let out a heavy sigh and stood up. “You can be so fucking daft sometimes, you know.”

“Y/N tells me all the time.”

“Well, she’s right,” he replied. “Tell her how you feel, Harry. She feels the same way.”

Harry looked up and met his friend’s eyes. “How do you know?”

“I can see it in how she looks at you. You’re blind if you don’t see it too.”

Harry paused. “How…”

“It’s the same way you look at her.”

or 

Harry and Y/N go camping with their friends and the fact that they’ve been in love with each other comes out

The drive out to the country was peaceful. Harry put on a podcast about music on the way and you listened as they analyzed Beyoncé’s Lemonade, pausing it occasionally to ask Harry questions about the technical parts. With the sunshine and Harry’s commentary once the podcast episode ended, the drive to the campgrounds in West Sussex passed quickly. 

Harry had booked your camp site last weekend, their trip a last-minute decision. You, Mitch, Sarah, and Nick had all been at Harry’s for a cookout and he’d mentioned wanting to get out in nature before the tour started, and Mitch threw out going camping. Nick took some convincing, but eventually he agreed. You and Nick had managed to get the time off from work, although Nick had to head back a day earlier, and it was settled. You had all left the particulars to Harry and when he texted a link to the campground in their group chat, you had fallen in love. Wooded, no power, cooking over an open fire--it reminded you of camping with your family when you were young. 

“Excited?” You asked Harry when you pulled into the parking lot at the front office. You threw the car in park and turned off the ignition, looking over at your best friend. 

He grinned back at you, eyes gleaming. You knew he’d been looking forward to this ever since you had first talked about it--he’d been calling you every day to go over the plans and picking out their meals for the weekend. “Psyched.”

You both climbed out of your car, stretching from the drive, and you inhaled the sweet smell of English oak trees, the sound of birds chirping making you smile as widely as Harry. Nick, Sarah, and Mitch were waiting by their cars, and Nick seemed to be animatedly telling a story about who knows what. 

“Is Nick being annoying?” You asked, throwing your arm around Nick’s shoulders and ruffling his hair. 

“He’s telling the story about the Brits. Again,” Sarah said, reaching out to hug you. “Save us, please.”

“Oi, you’re being mean.” Nick said and Sarah just laughed and shook her head. 

Mitch gave you a quick hug and you smiled at him--they’d all been working a lot lately in preparation for the tour. You had barely seen him, Sarah, and Harry, and you missed their presences more than you had realized. “Let’s go see what Harry got us,” you said.

“Spoiled you lot rotten,” Harry said, sliding a pair of sunglasses onto his nose. 

“I’d hoped so,” you replied, and Harry chuckled softly before leading the group inside the office. 

“Reservation for Y/N,” Harry said to the receptionist and you looked at him in confusion. “Didn’t want anyone finding us,” he explained and you nodded immediately in understanding. After years of friendship, you were used to it, though it always tugged on your heart. You wanted, more than anything, for him to be able to be normal at some point. You knew he craved it too--anonymity. 

The receptionist clicked some buttons on her computer before pulling some folders out of a drawer and turning back to you all. “I’ve got three yurts reserved for you all--is that correct?”

Harry’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion. “I had requested four over the phone.”

The receptionist--Martha, according to her badge, frowned. “Oh, I’m so sorry about that. Unfortunately, though, we’re all booked up this weekend. Is there any way three could be made to work?”

That meant someone was going to have to share. Harry looked at you, and then at Nick. “Nick, you good to bunk, mate?”

Nick groaned and you rolled your eyes at him. “Fine, but if you kick me in your sleep I’ll lock you out.”

“I don’t think they have doors, Nick,” you told him.

He looked at you and grimaced. “Zip him out then.”

“How threatening,” Harry said, before looking back to the receptionist. “That’ll be fine.” She nodded and explained the rest of the check-in and check-out policies and the amenities on the site. It seemed perfect--a pub not too far from the grounds, camp fires you was most definitely going to take advantage of, and actual showers. He truly was spoiling you all. 

You walked back to the car with Harry to drive to their yurts, swinging your keys around your finger in thought. “H,” you said when you sat down in the driver’s seat.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for bunking with Nick. I know you like your own space, so I appreciate it.”

He gave you a wide smile and you couldn’t help it--it warmed every part of you. It was moments like these you struggled to remember that Harry was just your friend. Nothing more. You’d dated people, he’d dated people, and you two were just friends. But then he’d look at you like this and you wanted more. “‘Course, love.” He reached across the console and gave your hand a quick squeeze, and your heart flopped in your chest. 

You were starved for touch--it’d been months since you broke up with your asshole of an ex and you were desperate to be touched, even if it was someone holding your hand. Usually you could count on Harry for some cuddles and tight hugs, but he’d been so busy practicing for tour that you hadn’t seen him much. Just FaceTime and the occasional meet-up at the café by your office on your lunch break and it seemed to be showing. 

You started the engine and prayed to the Gods that they would help you get through this weekend in one piece. 

The yurts were in a quiet part of the campground, secluded and in a thicket of trees. All you could hear was the sound of wind whistling through the leaves and the chirping of birds. After living in London for the past two years and barely leaving, it was a relief to be able to hear nothing but nature. 

Nick let out a whoop when he opened the door to his car. “God, this is gorgeous, isn’t it?” Sarah and Mitch pulled up a second later and you all wandered around the campground, deciding where you would put your chairs (around the campfire, obviously) and what you wanted to eat for dinner. Then, you started to unpack. You claimed the tent closer to the woods, wanting not to be awoken in the middle of the night if cars drove by and to get away from the group if you went to bed early, something that you had a tendency towards when Nick and Harry were together. 

The sound of the yurt being zipped open caused you to look up from where you were checking to see if there were bed bugs. After getting them when you were 13 on a family trip, you always checked. “This going to be okay for you?” Harry stood hunched over, his head poking into your yurt. His shirt was unbuttoned, the beige linen flowing in the soft breeze, and his hair flopped into his face. His green eyes were gleaming, a look he only got on break or on holiday, and it was your favorite look on him. He looked just unperturbed and blissfully happy. 

“Come in, silly,” you said, turning around and flopping down onto the bed. “It’s perfect, H.”

Harry grinned and dropped down next to you. “Comfy, eh?”

“Very.”

“I should plan every holiday at this rate.”

You whacked him with the pillow. The last holiday you had planned and the hotel had ended up being bad and their reservation for their yacht trip fully did not exist when they showed up. It was a disaster and Harry had yet to let you live it down. “Now you’re just fishing for compliments.”

“What? I like planning!”

“And you like being complimented.”

Harry huffed and you just smiled at him. After knowing one another for years, not only did you know everything important about Harry, you also knew how to push his buttons. Calling him out for what you had longed believed to be some kind of praise kink (you’d asked him about if while drunk and he’d looked so confused and embarrassed you dropped it) was the number one way to get him riled up. 

“How’s your tent with Grimmy?”

“He’s already asleep.”

“It’s noon.”

“Apparently he didn’t sleep last night.”

You laughed because it was classic Nick. It happened on almost every holiday you went on together, of which there had been a few. He’d get to wherever you were staying and immediately fall asleep for usually the rest of the day. You all usually just left him where he was and went about your business, but he also usually had his own room. “Were you able to put your stuff down at least?”

Harry shrugged. “Just dropped my suitcase on the ground and left him. I’ll wake him up eventually.” He turned his head and looked at you, his head so close that if you turned your head up ever so slightly, you could probably kiss him. 

“Fancy a swim?” You asked him, sitting up suddenly and trying to push the thought away. 

“Fuck yes,” he replied. “Let me change into my suit.”

The sun was out in full force when you jumped into the lake, your towels and clothes abandoned on the edge of the water. You were lying on your back, eyes closed, basking in the feeling of sun on your skin. Mitch and Sarah were swimming around--you could hear them chattering about how Sarah wanted a dog and Mitch wasn’t into the idea--but you didn’t know where Harry was. You couldn’t hear him. Maybe he’d swam a little further away?

You pushed the thoughts from your mind and focused on not thinking about anything, which somehow took a significant amount of effort. Work kept trying to drift into your head--had the office finished the pitch that you had left for them on Thursday? It was a big account and you had put your all into it, but you hadn’t finished the final touches on Thursday before you had to leave the office, so you left it for your coworkers to wrap up on your behalf. Hopefully they didn’t half-ass it. 

Suddenly, fingers wrapped around your waist and you were being flipped onto your stomach, water immediately filling your nose and mouth. You snapped up, water flicking from the ends of your hair, and blinked the droplets away so you could see who had done it. 

Harry. 

“You bastard!” You screeched, shoving him. His skin was slick from the sunscreen and water, and you tried not to focus on the feeling of his arm muscles under your palms. “I could’ve drowned!”

“You were a competitive swimmer, Y/N,” he reminded you, chuckling. “You weren’t going to drown.”

You sputtered, slicking your hair back, and then gave him a death stare. “Still. You’re an ass.”

“That’s not news,” Sarah piped up from where she and Mitch were treading water and laughing at what had just happened. 

“This is true.” You gave Harry another look before shoving a wave of water in his direction, splashing water into his face. 

Harry gasped, wiping water from his face, his hair, which had grown longer in the past few weeks while he’d been on break, sticking to his forehead. He looked like a little kid, despite how muscular he’d become in the past year or so. You tried to not linger on it, but when he was in front of you without a shirt on, sun-kissed skin just begging to be looked it, it was quite difficult. “This is war.”

He shoved water at you, and suddenly you were splashing one another like children, both of you screeching as water got into your eyes. Your feet collided underwater, arms hitting each other as you twirled around each other in the water, trying to surprise one another. 

It was all fun and games until Harry’s hand reached out and accidentally hit you right in the boob.

“Harry!” You called out, swatting him. “You just hit me in the boob.”

“Fuck, sorry,” he said. “You okay?”

“Just sore,” you said, swimming a bit farther away from him. “Meanie.”

Harry gave you his puppy dog eyes, lashes blinking at you, plump lips sticking out ever so slightly. You hated when he did this because you always fell for it. Years of friendship and you still couldn’t hold anything against him when he did this because he just looked so goddamn gorgeous. You hated it. “Sorry?”

“Fine,” you said, “but you’re carrying me the whole way back to the campsite.”

You all ended up grilling burgers over the fire, Harry surprising you with some hidden skills over the open fire, and together the four of you drank beers as the fire glowed between them. Nick had never surfaced and Harry didn’t have it in him to wake him, so he let him be. Harry, Sarah, and Mitch had started playing music after dinner and you kept yourself entertained by requesting old One Direction songs, which made Harry stare daggers at you but amused you, Sarah, and Mitch to no end.

It was a chilly summer night and you were cuddled up in a sweatshirt of Harry’s, having forgotten yours at home, and a pair of leggings. You could feel your eyes drooping, your entire concept of time gone without the ability to check your phone. It could’ve been 9pm for all you knew. After a rendition of Landslide, you yawned and stretched your arms above your head, and decided to call it a night. 

“I’m going to turn in,” you said, standing up from the chair you’d been in for the past few hours. “Which way’s the bathrooms?” 

Sarah pointed to the right, and you nodded. You had to brush your teeth and pee before you could go to sleep, and you had no desire to traipse through the woods at night to pee in the brush, so you started off in the direction of the bathrooms, your toiletries bag tucked under your arm.

“Wait!” You turned to see Harry walking after you, his own bag tucked under his arm. “Didn’t want you to walk alone.”

You gave him a sweet smile and waited for him to catch up with you. “You ready for sleep too?”

He shrugged. “Probably be up for a little while longer, if that’s not too disruptive? Mitch and I thought we’d work on a song I’ve been thinking about. Thought I’d go ahead and brush my teeth, though.”

“I like listening to you play as I go to bed,” you said, the words leaving your mouth before you thought about them. 

Harry’s eyebrows knit together and he studied you. “Never told me that before.”

Probably because it’s embarrassing, you thought to yourself. You loved listening to his music before you went to bed, especially the voice memos he’d sent you over the years of bits of songs he was working on before they were fully mastered. They were more raw, less produced, the stripped down Harry that you loved. “You never asked.”

He filed that information away for later and you climbed the steps to the bathrooms, both heading into the same free stall. You’d stopped caring about peeing in front of one another a long time ago. You went first, listening to Harry prattle on about a book he was reading that he thought you’d like as he washed his face. When you finished up, you switched places and you started brushing your teeth, stealing his toothpaste because it tasted nicer. 

“You should just buy some for yourself,” he commented.

“But I can use yours for free.”

He didn’t reply, just let you be, and you brushed your teeth next to one another, Harry knocking his hip against yours to make you smile. 

“Glad you came,” he told you when you exited the bathrooms. 

“Me too. Needed this, I think.”

“Same. Missed you, too.” 

You studied his face, barely visible in the moonlight. His stubble was growing in, but he had a peaceful expression you rarely saw in him. You saw it in moments on tour, sometimes--when you were cuddled up on his sofa watching a film after a show, or after a morning run on a day off. But here, this was the purest form and one you wished you saw more often. You didn’t tell him, though. You’d had that conversation before--how you were worried he was overworking himself, believing that he was able to work so much after years in 1D, working with barely any breaks. You wanted his solo career to be different, but Harry had a tendency to find work even when he wasn’t touring or recording. He loved it so much that it was all he wanted to do. “Missed you too,” you replied simply, and leaned into him when he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. 

Mitch set down his guitar and looked at Harry across the fire from him.

“What?”

“When are you going to tell Y/N?”

Harry looked down at his feet. His boots were scuffed from walking through the rocky terrain to the lake earlier when they’d gone swimming. The image of you in her bikini flashed through his mind, and he restrained from groaning--he’d known you for years, swam with you for years, and yet seeing you in that bikini still did things to him, no matter how much he tried to tell himself you didn’t feel the same way about him. “She doesn’t feel the same way.”

Mitch let out a heavy sigh and stood up. “You can be so fucking daft sometimes, you know.”

“Y/N tells me all the time.”

“Well, she’s right,” he replied. “Tell her how you feel, Harry. She feels the same way.”

Harry looked up and met his friend’s eyes. “How do you know?”

“I can see it in how she looks at you. You’re blind if you don’t see it too.”

Harry paused. “How…”

“It’s the same way you look at her.”

With that, Mitch turned and went to where Sarah waited for him in their yurt, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. It was quiet, aside from the crinkle of the fire. Harry couldn’t remember when he fell in love with Y/N--there wasn’t some specific moment like they say in the books. It just...happened. The more time he spent with you, the closer you got, the more Harry hated leaving you. And when you dated other guys, it made his stomach turn to be around them. He tried to pretend like it didn’t, he tried to be nice and polite as you were to the girls he tried to date, but he knew he never was. He hated the way you would look at him when he’d make some snide remark, and he could feel the disappointment radiating from your stare. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to let you go.

He’d tried to bury himself in work, in touring, in women. He’d lived in LA for months to try and get over you, he’d even dated Kendall fucking Jenner to try and get over you. Nothing helped. Camille had been the closest he’d gotten, but there had always been something holding him back. When he’d found out she cheated on him, it was a relief more than heartbreak--he didn’t have to be the one to break up with her this time. And he always went back to you, pretending to be more broken hearted than he was just to get you to spend days on end by his side, eating ice cream and watching films that you thought helped him. In actuality, it was you who helped him. It was being by your side, it was laughing with you, going on walks, even fucking gardening with you at his house in Hampstead. Anything with you healed him. 

And he knew it wasn’t fair, using you like he did. But he couldn’t help himself--it was the time when he could almost pretend you were his. It was when you ignored everything else and focused on only him and that attention is what he craved. You, together, no distractions. It’s what he wanted this weekend to be, but then you suggested inviting friends, and how could he say no to you? How could he tell you he just wanted to be with you for the whole weekend, the rest of the world forgotten?

Mitch’s words, though, were a stab in his heart. He’d always convinced himself that there was no way you could feel the same. You had fallen in love, you’d told him. With Tom. Bloody Tom. You’d met at some networking dinner and he’d asked you out, and from then on it was Tom, Tom, Tom. You had dated for a little over a year and Harry despised every second of it. Tom treated you like dirt--belittling you in front of your friends, in front of Harry, even, controlled your time and your friends. Boxed you in like you were some animal just there to please him, no life to speak of. It had happened while Harry was on tour and then in LA, so he hadn’t been there in person for most of it, and when he had been around you two together--whe he came home for the holidays and saw you, you had played it off. Said it was nothing, just a joke. 

But then her college roommate Jordan had called Harry, worried out of her mind about you. Told him how Tom treated you, all the things he’d done, how he’d manipulated you--hit you one time. Jordan was in New York City and work wouldn’t let her leave, but she knew Harry could go. She told him it was getting bad and he had to get you out. And so he did. He took the next flight out, barely packed a suitcase, and went. He went to your apartment and told you that Jordan had told him what happened, and you two had a massive fight over it, you defending Tom, Harry trying to convince you he had manipulated your thoughts, your emotions, your feelings, and you both ended up in tears before you finally let him take you to his house to stay for a few weeks. And together, you’d pieced his fierce Y/N back together. 

And all that time, he had never thought...He never thought you’d loved him. Not as he did, at least. You’d told him so many times that you loved him, but it was just as a friend. You’d made that clear in the ways you touched him and introduced him to people. He was your Harry, but just your friend. Your best friend, but friend all the same. It broke him, as much as he tried not to let it show. But for you to feel the same way? All this time?

And what did Mitch expect him to do? Bust into your tent and admit his undying love for you, you to admit you felt the same way, and for you to ride off into the night together? This wasn’t some romance novel (which Harrry knew Mitch read, even though he tried to hide them). This was reality, and in reality, it was just Harry, writing songs about you that you’d never understand the true meaning of, and a yurt shared with Grimmy. 

He stood up, his guitar held tightly in his hand, and put out the fire before heading into the yurt. Nick was spread eagle on the bed, still somehow asleep--Harry had never understood his ability to sleep literally all day--and snoring. Loudly. Harry sighed and went over to his suitcase, tugging off his jeans and sweatshirt and folding them neatly into the case. He pulled a henley and pajama pants on, knowing if Nick woke up to a half naked Harry in his bed he’d most definitely not let him hear the end of it, and walked over to the bed. He tried to shove Nick over and make space for himself, but the man was most definitely stronger than Harry had realized. 

Had he been working out lately?

Harry gave his arm another shove, but Nick didn’t even flinch. “Fuck you, Nick,” Harry said. “Do you have to seriously sleep like the dead?”

He looked around the room, trying to see if there was anything he could fashion a makeshift bed with. But there wasn’t even a spare fucking blanket. 

Maybe Sarah and Mitch would have one? Then he pictured walking into the couple’s yurt and immediately decided against that idea. That left you. You’d slept in the same bed before, albeit usually while drunk--maybe you’d let him sleep with you? Just for the night? 

Harry slipped on his flip flops, grabbed his flashlight and made his way over to your yurt. It was quiet except for the sound of your soft breathing and he immediately felt at peace, despite what his mind told him. He unzipped the front of your yurt and stuck his head in. It was dark and he could barely make out your figure, curled up tightly under the covers, hair strewn across the pillow. 

“Y/N?”

After a beat, he saw your body shift and your head stick up from the pillow. “Harry?”

“Can I sleep with you? Nick’s taking up the whole bed and snoring like a train.”

You giggled--and Harry’s heart started racing--and then said, “Of course. C’mere.” You lifted the edge of the blanket and Harry toed off his flip flops before walking over to the bed. “What time is it?”

He laid down next to you carefully, not wanting to brush up against you and make you uncomfortable. “Dunno. Late.”

You reached out for him, fingers brushing against his henley right over his stomach, and Harry’s heart seized. Did you know what you were doing to him right now? “Why are you lying there straight as a rod? I don’t bite, you know.” Probably not, he realized. You had no idea what the mere touch of your skin did to his heart. 

“Don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said, his voice quiet in the silence of the yurt. 

“You don’t, silly. Now c’mere.” 

He moved closer to you and you turned onto your side so that your back rested against his chest, and he wound his arm around your stomach loosely, holding you to him. You’d laid like this before, after your birthday earlier in the year when you’d gotten quite drunk and he’d brought you home so you didn’t choke in your own vomit. You’d snuggled into him then, just like you did now, and he tried to think of anything to get his dick to stop from plumping up under his pants. 

“H?”

“Yeah?”

“What was your song about?”

His breath caught in his throat. Had you heard it? It was so obviously about you, so unabashedly telling you how he felt. God, every song was about you. Even when he tried to make them less specific, when he tried to remove the details that would make it about you, you still left a residue. 

“Harry?” Your voice broke his thoughts, so sweet in his ears. He opened his eyes, which had closed while he thought, and looked into your hair. He could smell the remnants of your perfume mixed with the fresh smell of oak from the woods and the essence of smoke from the fire. He wanted to bury himself in your smell, in you. 

He should tell you. He knew he should. It was the perfect time--you were giving him the prompting. But he didn’t have the courage. “Did we wake you up?”

You rolled over and suddenly your face was mere inches from his. He could see your eyes in the dark, bright blue in the night. The ones that were painted in his dreams, echoes of you that never let him go. “Thought I heard something in the woods. Heard you instead.”

How much had you heard, he wondered. Had you heard his conversation with Mitch? You had been asleep when he had come into the yurt, so you had to have fallen back asleep. “What’d you think of it?”

You stared at him, your gaze searing through the protections he tried and struggled to keep up. “It was sad,” you said simply. 

“Hmm?” He mumbled, not really knowing what else to say to that. Of course it was sad, he was in love with his best friend and he didn’t have the balls to tell her. 

“The opening lines,” you whispered. “Put a price on emotion/I'm looking for something to buy/You've got my devotion/But man, I can hate you sometimes,” you sang it, perfectly in tune, hitting every note as he had around the campfire with Mitch. Your voice singing his words broke him in two, for some reason. They were the most honest ones of the whole song, he thought to himself, and the ones he was least likely to change. “Who is it about?”

Her question had changed. When you asked the first time, it was what. Now it was who. He studied you in the dark, searching himself. Could he muster the courage?

“Camille?”

“No,” he said, his words immediate. “No, not Camille.”

There was a rustle of the trees, but your eyes didn’t leave his. “Are you seeing someone new?”

“No.”

“Then who?”

He took a deep breath, and then, he pulled the words from the depths of his heart. “It’s about you.”

It was silent in the yurt. He couldn’t even tell if you were breathing. But your eyes didn’t leave his. He watched as your brain processed his words, pieced them together, matched them up with the song. 

“Test of my patience/There's things that we'll never know/You sunshine, you temptress/My hand's at risk, I fold.” You said the words, no song to them, just words, flowing from your lips as poetry, not lyrics. “You...Me. Things we’ll never know--that’s us?” 

He nodded, resisting the urge to reach out and brush a strand of hair behind your ear that had come loose. 

“You've got my devotion,” you whispered, the opening lines coming back around. “That’s about me?”

“Yes,” he said, the word simple, soft, quiet in the dark. But it took every ounce of his courage. It was worse than when he’d decided to go solo, it was worse than going out on stage alone for the first time, worse than stepping on the X-Factor stage. The hardest words he’d had to say. “Y/N,” he whispered, summoning the last of his courage, “the songs are all about you.”

That made you go quiet for longer. You stared at him, taking inventory of every part of his face. He could feel your eyes and he didn’t even squirm--it felt different than it did when you usually looked at him. It felt like you were seeing him for the first time. Like a veil had been lifted between them. 

And yet, you said nothing.

“Do you want me to go?” He asked, the words breaking him. “I--I can go.”

But you pressed your fingers to his chin, instead. “Don’t go,” you whispered and this time it was him who stared at you. “I--I’m scared.”

“I know.” Your eyes blinked at him, eye level, so close he could see nothing but the rim of the blue, your long eyelashes he’d always admired. “I just...I can’t pretend anymore, love.” The nickname, long used between them, suddenly took on a new meaning in this moment. He could feel the shift in the air, the way the word landed between them. It slipped from his lips without him thinking about it, but he meant it in every which way. 

You ran your forefinger along the edge of his jaw and Harry’s breath caught in his chest. “Me either.”

And then, you pulled his lips down to meet yours and it was like Harry’s world bottomed out. Your lips were soft, just like he’d imagined them, and you tasted like sugar and the watermelons they’d had for a snack after dinner. The hint of toothpaste lingered and it made him smile, remembering how you’d spoken in the bathroom. His fingers wound their way into your hair and you let out a soft moan that set Harry’s skin on fire. 

Your teeth tugged on his bottom lip and Harry rolled you onto you back with a groan, begging for more, for anything you would give him. The kiss was deep, passionate, without end. You barely pulled away to breathe, wanting to never stop touching him. Your fingers crawled up his arms, across his collarbones, fire left in their wake. 

Harry balanced above you on his forearms, head dipping to meet your lips over and over again, his fingers curled into your hair that was spread out on the pillow. Your legs tugged apart, letting him slot himself between them, leaning into you. It was like a dream he didn’t want to wake up from. 

“Y/N,” he said, pulling back from your lips just an inch so he could speak. “I--I don’t want to do anything if you don’t--”

“I want you,” you said, your hands drifting from his shoulders to cup his face between them. He leaned into your touch and you smoothed your fingers across his cheekbones. “I’ve always wanted you. H, you’re everything to me.”

His lips found yours again without a second beat, and you pulled every ounce of his heart from his chest with your lips. The sheets rustled under their bodies as they moved, begging to get more and more of each other. Your hands wound under his shirt, tugging as he leaned back, pulling it off, the chilly night air nipping at his skin. You sat up, Harry balanced precariously on your lap, and pressed kisses to his skin, licking over his swallows. 

Harry let out a moan, not being able to hold it in, but didn’t stop her as you made your way across his skin, claiming it as your own. He couldn’t hear anything but you--it was consuming, the feeling of being this close to you. Your teeth bit into the skin on his collarbones, sucking a bruise he knew would be there tomorrow, and he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He wanted the world to know he was yours, that he loved you with every fiber of his being, unashamedly. 

“I’m yours,” he said, his voice edging on a moan as you licked across his nipples. “Yours, Y/N, I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours,” you replied, and leaned back, tugging off his sweatshirt, which you’d worn to bed. You were bare underneath, and you could feel Harry’s eyes on your skin, learning you. Usually, you felt studied under the gaze of a man, but now, with Harry, you felt admired, adored, loved. His hands kneaded circles into your breasts and you arched into him, moans leaving your mouth in breaths. 

You felt his tongue on your nipples, just as you had done to him, and your fingers gripped into the curls of his hair. “Fuck, H.”

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, pressing kisses to your sternum. “So, utterly beautiful.”

You leaned back onto your hands, chest rising and falling as he made his way down your body, inching farther and farther back on the bed until he was on his stomach, lips hovering above the waistband of your sleep shorts. His eyes met yours in question, and you nodded, words failing you.

“Need to hear your words, love,” he said, kissing your bare skin just centimeters above the bow on her shorts. “Want to make sure that you’re sure.”

“Take them off,” you said, struggling to speak as he licked your skin. “Touch me, H, please.”

And he did. He tugged your shorts down your legs, underwear coming with them, and pressed kisses to the inside of your thighs, nipping love bites into the skin there. “You know, I dreamed of you last week,” he said against your skin. 

“What?” You squealed as he sucked on the sensitive skin at the crease of your thighs. 

“Of you, like this.” Then, he licked a stripe up her clit and you buried your hands in his hair, holding him there. “But in the dream, I couldn’t smell you.” He sucked on your clit, and you struggled not to scream his name. Your friends would hear and the last thing you wanted was to deal with that in the morning. “I couldn’t hear you,” he said, licking you again, and your head flailed to the side. “And I woke up before I could do this.”

And then, he dove his tongue inside of you, and you pressed a hand to your mouth, holding in the moans that begged to fly free. It was heaven, his tongue. Delving into her like it was made for you, curling inside of you and rubbing the front of your walls delicately. 

“Harry,” you said, trying to keep your voice quiet, “more, please.”

He wasted no time pressing his finger to your clit and rubbing you in circles, causing your chest to arch from the pleasure. You could feel a knot building in your belly, begging and begging for more. 

“Please, H,” you let out in a moan, and that’s when you felt his own moan against your skin, the vibration of the stubble on your skin causing you to shake against him. But his free hand anchored your hips to his lips, and he continued his work, licking in and out of you, then up and down your folds, drawing soft moans from your mouth over and over again. 

“Wanna hear you,” he said softly against your skin, “please, love, wanna hear you.”

“Don’t want to wake them,” you replied, struggling to look down at him. But when you did, the sight of his head between your thighs, hair a mess, eyes gleaming up at you in the dark, it ripped a moan from your chest that you couldn’t contain. 

“That’s it,” he said. “Don’t give a fuck about them. S’just us, yeah?” He kneaded circles into her skin with his hands and sucked harshly on her clit, your hips bucking in response, but he didn’t let go. “What d’ya want, love?”

His words were rough, broken from pleasure. You loved the way he sounded, having never had the opportunity to have him this way. “Fingers,” you said. “I’m close.”

“Yeah?” His one hand left her hips and circled your entrance, drawing your wetness around his fingers. “Fuck, love, you’re so wet.”

“H,” you breathed out, “please.”

That’s all he needed. He dipped his forefinger inside of you, your tight walls gripping him like a vice. But to him, you were virtue--you were everything to him, everything good in the world wrapped up in a single person. He curled his finger, brushing against a spot that made you squeak and he smiled before adding a second finger. “Come for me, love,” he said, sucking on your clit. “Wanna taste you.”

And that’s all it took. Your orgasm washed over you like a wave, your hands gripped in his hair, keeping his face there as he licked your clit softly, drawing shock waves from your body over and over again. You struggled to keep your eyes open, wanting to watch him as you came, and he held your eye contact as you did. When he pulled his fingers from you and sucked on them, you just stared at him, wondering if this was real. If he was real. 

“Taste sweet,” he said, crawling up your body, pushing you down onto the bed with the weight of him. You loved it, the feeling of his skin on yours, of his body on yours. “With an edge of sourness.” He pressed his lips to yours, and you licked into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue. You hadn’t been this turned on...ever, you realized. “Tastes good,” he said against your lips. 

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair. “Felt good too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re good at that, you know.” 

He chuckled at you and pressed a kiss to your cheeks. “Can’t wait to do it again.”

You captured his lips again, arms winding around his chest, pulling him into you, closer and closer until you couldn’t find the space between you. And then, you rolled, taking him with her, leaving him on his back and you flush to his chest. “Some other time,” you said softly, drawing back. “I want you.”

“Fuck,” he let out, gaze travelling up your body as you sat back on his hips, bare center brushing over his pajama pants. “Want you too, baby.”

You smirked at him. “Baby?”

He blushed. “Sorry, it just--”

“Shh.” You pressed a finger to his lips. “I like it.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” You rolled your hips over his erection and he bucked up into you, not being able to stop himself, drawing groans from both of them. “Wanna hear you, H,” you whispered, tossing his words back at him. “Hmm?”

“Take ‘em off.” He bucked his hips again, and you smiled down at him. Your fingers curled around his pants and his underwear, and crawled back, pulling them off together in one motion, just as he had done to you. 

You held him in your hand, brushing your thumb over his tip, the pre-cum slick against your skin. Your tongue licked a stripe up the underside of him, drawing a moan from his chest as you laved circles around the tip of his length. 

“Y/N,” he breathed, “Not gonna last if you keep doing that,” he said. “Need--”

“I know,” you replied. You pressed another kiss to him and clamored back up his body. “Wouldn’t have happened to bring condoms, would you?”

“Fuck,” he said, “no, wasn’t exactly planning this.”

You pressed a kiss to his chest, trying to calm the panicked look in his eyes. His hands ran up and down your thighs, his touch consuming you. “I’ve got the implant,” you said, “if that’s ok with you.”

“I’ll pull out,” he said, leaning up on his elbows. “Promise.” Then your lips found each other’s and you rocked your hips against him, the slick of you dripping down onto his length. He swallowed your moans and you did the same, the dark of the night wrapping around you, encasing you in a world that was just the two of you. 

You reached down and ran your fingertips along his length, brushing his tip against your slit, the feeling sending tingles down her spine.

“Please,” he begged beneath you, fingers digging into your hips to where there would probably be marks tomorrow, “please, Y/N.”

When you slid down his length, your eyes shut from the sensation of him stretching you. You didn’t stop until he had bottomed out, you hips flush against one another. You could feel his eyes watching as you adjusted to his size, to the burn of him inside of you. It was surreal to have him like this, to have him so close to that you couldn’t find where you ended and he began. To have his lips find yours as you began to rock back and forth on him, open mouths meeting like old friends, begging for more and more and more. It was heaven, you decided, this was heaven on earth, this feeling. Your head snapped back when he bucked up into you, hitting a deep spot that made your arms shake. And then he ran his tongue down your exposed neck, nipping and biting into your skin, whispers of your name like an echo around them. 

You wanted all of him. Every single part of him, you wanted to have his laughter and his smile and his words and his thoughts and his love. You wanted his body in the morning and the night and across the distance. You wanted him to hold you in his arms always, to care always. To you, he was hope, he was a bright spot in a sea of darkness. He was the antithesis of your exes, of Tom, of the men who had used you up and left you in a bed of nails. Harry built you up, stoking your fire with actions that showed you how much he cared, never wavering from your side, always running back when you called. No matter how far he went, the residue of him never left your mind, body, or soul. 

Harry’s arms caged you in and suddenly you were on your back and he was above you and inside of you and everywhere. His fingers danced across you skin as his hips snapped into you, moans drying in your throat because you could barely think from the pleasure zipping through your body. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he said, words darting through the fog, “I love you.” He was holding you so tightly in his arms that you wondered if he thought you would run. As if you wanted to be anywhere else but here, beneath him, close to him, breathing him in and out. 

“I love you too.” The words left you without hesitation and you pressed your lips back to his as you chased your highs together, his hips never stopping. He pulled one of your legs high on his hip, reaching a new depth inside of you, and you scrabbled at his back with your fingers, leaving marks in your wake. “Right there,” you whispered against his shoulder, biting softly into the skin there. 

He pistoned his hips in and out, hitting the spot over and over again. “Yeah? Right there, baby?” 

You had always joked he had a praise kink, but now that you had him, you knew you were right and good lord did you feed right into it. “So good,” you mumbled, “so good Harry, please don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, tongue darting to the spot under your ear when you turned hyourer head, choking on a moan when he thumbed your clit. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. Gonna tell you every day. Never going to stop now that I have you. Finally.”

You dug into his ass with your heels, keeping him deep inside of you. Hands grabbed skin, and you basked in the heat that surrounded you, the sweat that stuck their skin together. It was perfect--he was perfect, he felt perfect, it was as if you were made for one another. Somehow, every movement he made was better, he navigated your body like he had the only compass and it was carved into his heart. 

Every part of you ached, ached for him and for release. You could feel it rising inside of you, taught like a string, begging. “Oh my god,” you whined, spasming around him. Your hand gripped the back of his neck and dragged his head back to you, fingers digging into his warm skin. Your lips met as he pumped into you over and over, drawing moans from them both that never stopped. You loved that he made noise in bed, that he told you how good you felt, that he made sure you knew how incredible it was. Every kiss pressed to your clammy skin was a reminder of how much he loved you.

“Fuck.” A guttural moan escaped him when you clamped down on his length, your orgasm threatening to rip through you. “Not going to last, baby.” His forehead rested against yours as he dug into the sheets with his fingers and toes, using every ounce of his energy to bring you both to the brink. Your fingers scratched against his shoulder blades, gripping him close as you arched into him. 

“I’m close,” you said, words ragged, “so close.”

“Come,” he breathed out, “please, Y/N.”

You pressed a kiss to his brow, the salt of his sweat against your lips. “Come inside me,” you whispered to his skin. “Want to feel you.”

His head turned, eyes meeting yours. “Sure?”

You dug your heels into his ass in response, gripping him like a vice to you. A moan ripped through him as he dug deep inside of you, pulling every piece of your love from her chest, just as you did to him. Then, he kissed you again, your name a mantra against your lips, and with that, your orgasm ripped through your body. 

He chased it with every brush of his hips, running after you as you soared and fell. You held him close as you came down, struggling to find your breath. But you didn’t want him to move. You wanted to feel him, to see him, to hear him finish. And when he did, it was the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen. His eyes bore into yours, teeth dug into his bottom lip so deep it probably drew blood, fingers curling tightly into the sheets on either side of your shoulders. Slowly, his hips came to a halt and you could feel his cum inside of you. The air was silent except for your breathing as he rested his body against you, not pulling out. 

You two laid there together, your arms wound around his waist, running your fingers up and down his back, his fingers threading through your hair. It was as if you were waiting for the words, because neither of you had them. What do you say after that? 

Harry moved to pull out of you, but you held him fast. “Please,” you whispered, “just…”

He shushed you, knowing what you meant. You wanted him close. After denying your feelings for so long it was like they were consuming every inch of you, overwhelming your brain and your heart. Having him close helped tether you to the ground and you couldn’t let go. Not yet. 

“Love you,” he said softly into your hair. “Love you so much, Y/N.”

You pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Love you too.”

“Think they heard?”

You giggled against his skin and you could feel his smile. “Probably. Don’t care that much, though.”

“Me either.”

You were quiet for a second before mustering the courage to ask the question swirling through your brain. “You’re not going to leave in the morning, right?”

He lifted his head and looked at you. “Never.” Then, he pressed a soft kiss against your lips and tucked his head into the space between your shoulder and your neck, his breath even against your skin. 

And you both laid there, adjusting to what it felt like to finally have the one person you’d always wanted, praying that when the sun rose nothing would change.

talk to me about camping!harry here | masterlist here