#i said: PINK KIT APPRECIATION POST!!

[somedaytakethetime]

*Barbie Girl by Aqua plays in the background*

[gremoria411]

With all the things you've posted looking at the mobile suits of various series, I wondered if you had any specific tastes in mecha design. Are there particular details or design cues that you're especially fond of?

@wordsandrobots, I fully expect to follow this up at sone point (and likely run out of pictures/want to ramble even more), so I’m going to pull it out as a proper post:

That is an *excellent* question, actually, since I hadn’t considered my tastes in such a broad scale before (and well-timed too, since I’ve got a post talking about Gusion in the works). It’s why I typically like talking about design series, since I can compare and contrast within that scope.

I typically focus on Gundam, since I generally like it as a series and there’s a massive variety of designs to appreciate, with a broad range. I’m largely influenced by the Anime, model kits and occasionally videogames, though in a lot of cases I can like a character, and that can lead to a greater appreciation of their mobile suit.

Specific design notes…. I tend to notice them more in the context of an artist - I adore a lot of Ippei Gyoubu’s design touches, from the bright colours to the detailed hands to the panel lines and little touches that you’d never notice. Kazuhisa Kondo has the organic shape and uniquely rounded weaponry and it’s styled in such a way as to apprear blurry, almost ephemeral, like you’re glimpsing it through a haze of smoke and gunfire and dirt, while frantically turning to get away, get away from the conflict. And yet the designs are still recognisable, and in a lot of respects draw from contemporary sources.

I’m similarly fond of Makoto Kobayashi and Kuino Okawara, though I typically struggle to explain how (Makoto Kobayashi tends to have really good composition? I think. So they look simple and detailed all at once, and they’re part of a scene, so it’s what you choose to focus on? And Okawara just makes it look so…. Effortless)

Hajime Katoiki I do like as well, I just struggle to nail down why. I suppose it’s because of how clean his designs look.

Moving away from the preference of artists (and honestly, it’s only that some of their design hallmarks are very distinct), I often have a preference for specific “types” of mobile suit. I talked about this a little in regards to the Code: Fairy designs, but I often find myself drawn to specialist mobile suits over generalist ones. From a modelling perspective, I often like each one to be distinct in a lineup in some way (unless they’re similar models, then I just put them together so the differences show). Often this can just be a distinct weapon, but it’s just as often the form of the mobile suit (the Gusion’s a good example here, since it draws the eye due to its heavyset build, understated colour scheme and giant hammer) or even the colour (see: the Infinite Justice being bright pink). This tends to encompass a lot of close-quarters units (like the Pixy and the Efreets) simply because there’s a lot of ways to do that well. Another reason is that whereas generalist suits tend to show up in large roles throughout the series, specialist ones tend towards “monster-of-the-week”, typically being an obstacle to be defeated or just having one or two cool scenes (like the Efreet Schneid). So I find they stick in my head a lot better.

I can like a lot of designs from a series as well, but of course I tend to have a lot of different criteria as to what designs I like, depending on the suit’s billing and purpose (what makes a great grunt suit and what makes a great protagonist suit are quite different after all). I do very much like a lot of the UC Grunt suits (though I’ll probably touch on that in more detail at a later point), for example, but I only really like one from Anno Domini, the Tieran (since it looks so much like a walking tank as opposed to the spindly nature of the Flags and Enacts). That said, I don’t think that the Flags, Enacts and GN-X’s are bad designs, they’re just not really the sort of thing I like.

In fact, I reckon that’s why I’m particularly fond of Iron-Blooded Orphans’ Aesthetics, since a lot of the units from that series would be close-quarters specialists in any other series. But because melee is so common in Post Disaster, virtually everything carries a nice solid sharp stick. The only exceptions I can think of are Gusion Rebake (which is more of an all-rounder), Flauros (and even that has hatchets that leave cqc a viable option) and Dainsleif Grazes (which only have one arm, so….).

[techsbrowneyes]

I had this ready to post days ago, but I couldn’t think of a title and I tend to procrastinate when it comes to proofreading. Anyway, here it is, another Bad Batch AU one-shot :)

Summary: An outbreak of fever has swept through Pabu. The Bad Batch and Phee venture off-world for medical supplies. They encounter a familiar face and must put their differences aside if their mission is to be successful.

Title: Old Acquaintances

Word count: 5,289

“We’ve been through this,” Phee said firmly. “I’m coming with you and that’s final.”

“This mission holds certain risks,” Tech argued. “I do not want you or the baby in danger.”

They stood outside the Marauder in the warm morning sunshine, Tech growing weary of this argument, Phee standing with her feet planted apart in a sort of battle stance. He knew she was going to win. She had several valid points, and his few paled in comparison.

An outbreak of fever had swept through Pabu. There was not enough medical supplies to go around, hence why the Bad Batch and Phee were going off-world on a supply run. It was vital that they retrieve these supplies and get them back here immediately.

The fever didn’t seem to affect the older population. It was the children who were suffering the most, and Phee was afraid Racer was going to come down with it. She thought taking him off-world was the best option. Tech thought so, too, but he was uncomfortable with the idea of bringing his son to a hostile planet.

He had other motives, too, for giving in. He didn’t like being apart from Phee or his son. They were his world now, just like his brothers and Omega. Without them, his world was a dark place. There had been a period of time he was separated from his family, and he didn’t care to repeat the experience. Those days had been the very definition of lonely.

Phee settled her hand on his shoulder. “What are you worried about, baby?” she said softly. “Hmm?”

“I hardly ever worry,” Tech said.

“Really.”

“Worry is a state of anxiety and uncertainty that hinders critical thinking. It is essential that I remain rational at all times if I am to keep you, our son, and my squad safe.”

She quirked a brow. “So you never have those moments where your belly gets twisted into knots and you can’t sleep?”

“That is correct.”

“Huh.”

“However,” he said, getting her attention, “there have been a select few occasions. For instance, there was a brief moment my airways ceased to function after you informed me you were pregnant with our son.”

Phee laughed. “Oh, Brown Eyes, you do amaze me.”

Crosshair emerged from the ship. He was dressed in his old armor, which he’d modified a bit to match the rest of the squad’s. Out of duty for their brother, and sentimental reasons, the squad had kept his kit. They had always clung to the hope that he’d return to them someday.

“The baby is asleep,” Crosshair announced.

“Why must you always call him a baby?” Tech asked. “He is one year, three months, and four days old. He has left infant-hood.”

“Why must you always get technical?”

“It is my nature. Why must you always look so dour all the time?”

Phee shook her head. Tech knew she found the squad’s sibling banters to be amusing. Not having any siblings of her own, or none that she was aware of, she didn’t quite understand their dynamics.

Crosshair suddenly straightened. An odd look came over his face. Tech found this change intriguing. Wanting to see what had affected his brother in such a way, he turned and saw a pink-skinned Twi-lek coming towards them. He could see why Crosshair was so transfixed. She was lovely, and she walked with her shoulders back, a purpose to her stride.

“Doctor,” Phee greeted.

“Mrs. Genoa,” the doctor returned in a warm, accented voice. “I cannot tell you how much I appreciate what you are doing.”

“We’re happy to do anything we can. Doctor, you’ve met my husband. This is his brother, Crosshair. Crosshair, Dr. Elayna Ro’tala.”

Elayna smiled at Crosshair. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Crosshair just stood there, looking dumbstruck.

Elayna presented Phee with a datapad. “I comprised a list of all the supplies I need,” she said. “The ones of utmost importance I listed at the top. I’m afraid some will be difficult to procure.”

Phee passed the datapad to Tech.

“Not to worry, Doctor,” Tech said. “We are quite resourceful.”

“We will get you those supplies,” Crosshair promised.

Elayna nodded gratefully. “Do what you can. And good luck.”

Tech was about to tell her there was no such thing as luck, but Phee nudged him none too gently in the side with her elbow. She knew him well.

“Thank you,” she said to the doctor.

Tech had to get the ship prepped for take-off. He went inside and took his usual place in the pilot’s seat. By the time he had warmed up the engines, the rest of the squad had arrived, making quite a bit of noise—mainly Wrecker—as they set their gear down and got settled. Tech wasn’t worried that the noise might wake Racer. The child could sleep through just about anything, even a storm. He was like his mother in that regard, except he didn’t snore. Tech kept that bit of knowledge to himself.

Echo claimed the co-pilot’s seat.

“Let’s go,” he said. “The quicker we get those supplies, the better.”

Phee touched Tech’s shoulder. “Plot a course for Tatooine, Brown Eyes,” she said. “I have a few contacts there. They might be able to provide us with the supplies listed, or with the names of other sellers.”

“Are these people reputable?” Echo asked.

“Probably not.”

Hunter settled down in the seat behind Echo’s. “As long as we’re not double-crossed, I don’t care who they are,” he said.

“Isn’t Tatooine controlled by the Hutts?” Omega asked from the doorway as Tech lifted the Marauder from the landing pad and headed for space.

“Jabba Desilijic Tiure, to be exact,” he answered.

“Who’s he?”

“A powerful crime lord we don’t want to cross,” Hunter answered. “We’ll go in, retrieve our supplies, and depart as quickly as possible. Tatooine is far from hospitable and I don’t want to overstay our welcome.”

As they entered space, Tech prepared to make the jump to hyperspace. Tatooine was not his first choice, as it was hardly what he’d call a civilized planet, but the Empire was less likely to be present.

And then there was the black market. Its less-than-discreet presence on Tatooine made the planet another prime candidate. Most of the supplies Elayna requested were generally easy to procure—on the Core worlds, that is. The further you drifted from the Core, the more improbable it became to find them unless you turned to less reputable sources.

“Have we got enough credits to get what we need?” Echo asked.

“About five thousand,” Phee answered. “It’s all I could scrape up in such a short notice.”

“Echo could play the part of a droid again and we could sell him for more credits,” Wrecker suggested.

Echo balked at the idea. “No,” he said firmly. “I am not doing that again.”

“Even for sick children?”

Wrecker had struck a nerve, because Echo’s shoulders drooped. He let out a little sigh.

“I suppose I could allow it just this once. Let’s just play it by ear, okay?”

After they were underway, everyone went to their own corners of the ship. Wrecker dozed. Hunter and Echo conversed quietly. Crosshair cleaned his rifle. Racer continued to nap, and Omega studied up on Tatooine, wanting to know all the facts about the hot, dry planet that was more or less unfriendly.

Phee sat up in the cockpit with Tech, dozing like Wrecker. Tech watched her. He’d memorized every detail of her lovely face, but he was still fascinated by her. He had never known what he was missing in life until she filled the empty gap. Many times he considered himself fortunate that he’d gotten this chance to love and have a family of his own, something he hadn’t ever dreamed was possible. He’d always considered himself just a soldier.

Now he was a husband and a father.

Tech smiled tenderly at his wife, then picked up his datapad and decided to do his own research on Tatooine. Omega had the right idea. The more they knew about this planet, the more confidence they would have in navigating it. 

And the quicker they could get in and get out, the better.

The plan was for the squad to separate into two groups. That way, they could work more quickly and be back at the ship before night fall.

Hunter led his group through the crowded streets of Mos Eisley. He had directions to one of Phee’s contacts, who ran both a legitimate business and a shady one.

Omega, Echo, and Wrecker trailed closely behind him. Omega was eager to see the sights, but she knew better than to wander off. She did, however, spout off facts about the planet she’d learned during her studies. She was beginning to sound like Tech. Actually, she’d picked up a trait from each of her brothers, but that wasn’t surprising. They were family.

Hunter listened with half an ear while he kept an eye on their surroundings. He didn’t trust any of these characters. They looked like the kind who’d turn on you real fast if there was a reward involved.

He knew the squad was on the Empire’s radar. They’d made enough noise over the years to merit a bounty over their heads. He only hoped luck was on their side today and they could get the mission done before any trouble arose.

“This is the place,” Hunter said, leading the squad down a narrow street. Tucked away at the end was a shop. It had a sign over its door stating it specialized in rare and valuable finds. It was probably a ruse to cover up the more illicit business going on behind closed doors.

Wrecker went in first, just to make sure it was all clear. Hunter followed and found himself in a dark room filled with shelves of junk—old speeder parts, vaporater parts, various bits and pieces that had no significance. There was absolutely nothing of value.

Phee would probably know what was valuable and what wasn’t, he thought.

A Rodian came out to greet them.

“Greetings,” he said. “Can I help you?”

“He has shifty eyes,” Hunter heard Wrecker whisper.

Hunter cleared his throat. “We’re looking for specific supplies. We were told you might be able to help.”

“Maybe,” the Rodian allowed. “What kind of supplies you be looking for?”

“Medical supplies.”

Hunter presented him with the datapad. The Rodian looked it over and handed the datapad back.

“I can get you those supplies, sure. But it’s gonna cost ya.”

“And I’m prepared to meet your price. We need these supplies urgently.”

The Rodian leaned forward. “How urgently?”

Wrecker stood up to his full height in order to present a more intimidating presence. He wanted to make sure the Rodian didn’t plan on swindling them just to get a better deal.

The Rodian spared Wrecker a glance, gulped, then looked at Hunter again. “Give me twenty-four hours,” he said.

“How about one,” Echo said firmly.

“Listen, pal. You’re asking a lot. It takes time to scrape these kinds of supplies together.”

“These supplies are for sick children,” Wrecker said. “You don’t want to let sick children die, do you?”

The Rodian snorted. “You think I care about that?” He paused, tapping a long finger on his chin as if thinking it over. “Three hours,” he said finally. “That’s the best I can do.”

“Deal,” Hunter said, before either Echo or Wrecker could protest. He didn’t want to press their luck.

The entrance door slid open, admitting another customer. Except it wasn’t. The Rodian’s eyes went as wide as saucers.

“Well, fancy seeing you here.”

Hunter spun on his heel, his hand going for his knife. Fennec Shand stood in the doorway, smiling coolly at them. Hunter immediately jumped to conclusions and assumed she was here for them, to collect the bounty over their heads.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Rodian slinking away.

“Roony, take one more step and I’ll have to reconsider taking you in warm,” Fennec warned.

The Rodian froze.

“That’s better.” She returned her unflinching gaze to Hunter. “You’re doing business with the wrong kind. This one’ll stab you in the back the moment you turn away.”

“Didn’t have much of a choice,” Hunter said frostily. “What are you doing here?”

“Roony here has made a lot of powerful enemies. They’re paying me handsomely to bring him in.”

“You’re not touching him. Not until we get the supplies we need.”

Fennec sighed tolerantly. “I’ve seen the bounty over your head, sergeant. The moment I let that greedy little Rodian walk away, he’s not going accommodate you. He’s going to turn you in. Consider yourself lucky I arrived when I did.”

“Are we supposed to be grateful?” Echo grumbled.

“Anyway, how can we trust you?” Omega said. “You came after me once, remember? For all we know, you could turn us in to take all the credits for yourself.”

Hunter doubted it. He figured Fennec for the honest sort. Roony was her target, not the squad. She was only here to do a job she was being paid for.

He met Fennec’s gaze. “He’s all yours,” he said.

She nodded. “Thank you.”

But she didn’t get a chance to apprehend her quarry. Roony activated a switch that set off an ear-splitting alarm. It drove Hunter and everyone else to their knees. He covered his ears, his auditory senses overwhelmed enough to cause him pain.

Wrecker took charge. He located the source of the alarm system and put it out of commission with a well-placed punch.

Hunter sucked in a breath as a semblance of quiet was restored. It took him a moment to recover.

“Damn,” Fennec cursed. “That no-good swine!”

“We can’t let him get away,” Omega cried. “He’ll turn us in!”

That prompted Hunter into action. He bolted out the front entrance and started running, using his enhanced senses to guide him. This took him left into another ally. As he reached a junction, he almost ran into Fennec, who’d come from the opposite direction.

“He’s headed for his ship at docking bay twenty,” she said. “Let’s try and cut him off.”

“Right,” Hunter agreed.

She took off and he followed close on her heels. They came out into an open market and had to push their way through a crowd of civilians, some who shouted angrily at their retreating backs. Hunter kept his senses peeled for the escaping Rodian, whom he was very eager to get his hands on. If Roony contacted the Empire, the entire squad would be put in jeopardy. He was mostly thinking about the kids. He didn’t want either of them in danger.

“This way,” Fennec said breathlessly, taking a left.

They arrived at the docking bay, but it was too late. The roaring of engines made Hunter’s heart sink. He drew his blaster and fired a few shots at the ship lifting off. Unfortunately, his DC-17 was useless in this instance.

Fennec, however, was armed with an MK sniper rifle. She made a quick but calculated aim at the engines and squeezed off a round. A small explosion reverberated through the air and Hunter looked away, but only briefly. He turned in time to watch as the ship made an ungraceful landing.

“Nice shot,” he said.

“Thanks,” Fennec said. She shouldered her rifle and nodded. “Shall we?”

Hunter made a go-ahead gesture with his hand, and the two of them started for the ship.

The hatchway opened and Roony stumbled out, waving away smoke and coughing. Fennec grabbed his shoulder in a tight grip.

“Sorry to foil your escape plans, Roony,” she said, not sounding sorry at all.

Roony spat something in his native tongue. Hunter didn’t need Tech’s translation skills to know that the Rodian was cursing them out.

“You won’t get away with this,” Roony snarled. “Soon, I be free and rich.”

Hunter got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Impulsively, he drew his knife and pressed it threateningly against the Rodian’s neck.

“What did you do?” he snarled.

The Rodian cackled. He said something else in his native tongue.

Hunter glanced at Fennec for help. “You have any idea what he’s saying?”

Fennec’s lips thinned. “No, but I think you’re about to have company.”

“No deal.”

Tech watched as his wife’s usually calm demeanor wavered.

“What do you mean no deal?” Phee said angrily. “I offered you a fair price, Deeno. I thought we had an understanding.”

Deeno, a balding human with a blotchy complexion, shrugged. “What you ask of me is difficult. My prices will be higher.”

Tech wanted to step in and employ a good dose of diplomacy to make the merchant see reason, but Phee seemed to be holding her own just fine. She probably wouldn’t like it if he interfered.

Racer watched intently from the carrier Tech wore. He considered this a good educational experience, although he doubted his son actually cared about the details. He was just interested in watching his mother.

“Listen,” Phee said, pointing a finger at the merchant. “There are sick children who need these supplies badly. If you won’t do business with me, I’ll find someone who will.”

Deeno scoffed. “With what you’re offering, I very much doubt it.”

Crosshair stepped forward and glared down at the merchant. “Is that your final decision?” he asked in a calm, cool voice.

“I stand firm,” Deeno answered.

In one fluent motion, Crosshair grabbed the merchant by the back of his head and slammed his face down into the counter. Deeno spluttered as blood gushed from his broken nose.

Racer clapped his little hands and laughed, amused by his uncle’s unwarranted display of violence.

“Now let’s try that again,” Crosshair hissed. “Or should I start breaking fingers?”

Deeno whimpered. “No, no. I’ll have your supplies delivered to your ship,” he promised. “I’ll even give you a discount!”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear.”

“Was that really necessary?” Phee asked Crosshair after they left the shop sometime later.

“It got us the supplies, didn’t it?” Crosshair said.

“That tactic may have worked on Mr. Deeno,” Tech said, “but I very much doubt you will get the same results should you try that method on a more obstinate individual.”

Phee led the way through a busy street. With the noon hour upon them, the heat was almost unbearably hot, the sun blistering. Tech adjusted Racer’s hat. He was concerned about him getting a sunburn.

 Mos Eisley was quite an interesting place. It was a melting pot of various species with different backgrounds. Tech was sure almost every being he passed was running from something—a rough past, perhaps even the Empire. If you were looking to lay low, this was certainly the place to do it.

They passed a merchant selling exotic flowers. Tech paused to purchase one, then quickened his pace to catch up to his wife and brother. The two of them were now arguing about the correct way to conduct business. Phee liked doing things in an orderly, diplomatic fashion. Crosshair still believed a bit of violence was the best way to seal a deal.

“While you are debating the finer points of business, take a moment to appreciate this beauty,” Tech said, presenting the flower to his wife.

Phee’s furrowed brow softened as she smiled. “How lovely,” she sighed. She leaned in and kissed Tech’s cheek, careful not to smother Racer. “Thank you, Brown Eyes.”

Crosshair observed the exchange with a thoughtful frown. “Is that how you woo a woman?” he asked Tech after Phee walked away.

“Among other ways,” Tech answered. “Would you care to be educated?”

“Come along, boys,” Phee called.

“Coming, love.”

They continued on their way to the docking bay where they’d left the Marauder. There they were going to rendezvous with the rest of the squad, assuming they had been successful in procuring the other half of the supplies.

Tech’s comlink pinged. He unhooked it from his belt and thumbed it on.

“Tech, we’re going to have company,” Hunter said gravely. “I need everyone to get back to the ship pronto.”

“What company?” Tech asked, just as two Imperial cruisers appeared in orbit. “Never mind.”

Crosshair’s gaze darkened murderously as he gazed up at the sky. “Permission to engage the enemy,” he said.

“Negative,” Hunter growled. “We’re getting out of here.”

“Copy that,” Tech said. “We will be at the docking bay momentarily.”

Phee’s brow furrowed with worry. Tech knew she was thinking about Racer when she reached for him and lightly touched his leg. He understood, because he didn’t want Racer put in the middle of a hostile situation, either.

To avoid that gut-wrenching possibility, they picked up the pace and made haste for the docking bay. The arrival of the Imperial cruisers had put a lull on most activity. Tech noticed that the streets were no longer teeming, but practically empty. It was almost eerie. Still, it gave him and his companions a clear path to their destination.

They rounded a corner and he immediately drew back when he saw a squad of stormtroopers marching down the street. He and his companions ducked into an alleyway, safe from prying eyes.

“They have already initiated a sweep of the port,” he said. “It may be more difficult to reach the docking bay.”

“We are superior to them,” Crosshair said. “We can take them.”

“Negative. The odds are stacked against us. If we engage one squad, we will risk exposing ourselves to the rest of their forces.”

“The odds are always stacked against us.”

Tech unstrapped Racer from his carrier and passed him to Phee. “They will not be looking for you or the baby,” he said quietly. “There is an alternate route to the docking bay. It should take you to a back entrance the Imperials will not be monitoring.”

“What are you going to do?” Phee asked worriedly.

“We will also go an alternate route.”

She shook her head. “I don’t like splitting up like this.”

“If you are seen with us, your safety will be compromised. It is better this way, love.”

Phee cupped the back of Tech’s head and raised her face to kiss him on the lips. “Don’t do anything reckless,” she said.

Tech sighed. “I will try to be as cautious as possible,” he said.

“You know what I mean, Brown Eyes.”

He gave her a gentle push in the right direction. “Go. We will be reunited shortly.”

“Now what?” Crosshair asked sulkily, after Phee disappeared from view.

Tech made a few quick calculations in his head. “The Imperials will be carefully monitoring all docking bays. We will need to create a diversion to lure them to a different point.”

“I thought you didn’t want to engage the enemy.”

“Not head on, no. I was thinking more of a hit-and-run.”

“Goody,” Crosshair said sarcastically.

Tech and Crosshair started off in the opposite direction of the docking bay. He wanted to contact Hunter and relay his plan, but he didn’t want to run the risk that the Imperials were monitoring all comm traffic. He couldn’t risk jamming their signals, either. As of now, the Imperials had no visual confirmation that Clone Force Ninety-nine was even here. He wanted to keep it that way until the last possible moment.

Tech and Crosshair kept up a steady pace, making use of back streets and alleyways. They encountered not a soul. The inhabitants had all tucked themselves away behind closed doors to avoid trouble with the Imperials patrolling the streets.

Tech wished he had all his gear. As of now, he was only armed with two DC-17 blasters. There wasn’t much damage he could do without his thermal detonators and EMP grenades. He would have to improvise. Since the squad almost always improvised, that wouldn’t be a problem.

“Someone is coming,” Crosshair hissed.

Tech drew his blasters and set them to stun. He and Crosshair pressed their backs against the wall and waited, watching the corner intently. Tech’s fingers tightened on the triggers.

A white cloth appeared.

“Don’t shoot,” came Wrecker’s voice.

Tech lowered his blasters. “You can come out,” he said, and Hunter, Wrecker, and Echo came around the corner.

“Did you lose the kid?” Crosshair asked.

“No,” Hunter answered. “I sent her back to the ship to get it prepped for take-off. The rest of us are going to create a diversion to give her more time.”

“Ah,” Tech said. “Great minds think alike. Cross and I had the same idea.”

“Now what?” Echo asked. “We haven��t got much, just a couple of blasters.”

Tech rubbed his chin. “I took the time to study the port’s layout. There is a power grid on the outskirts of the port, about four klicks south from our current location. If we can utilize it to create an explosion, that will be the diversion we need.”

“Well, boys,” Hunter said. “Let’s go make some noise.”

Phee arrived shortly at the docking bay without encountering any Imperials. She found the supplies they’d bought from Deeno, waiting to be loaded onto the Marauder. This surprised her. The man was not known for being prompt or reliable. Apparently, threatening him had worked wonders.

She decided her first order of business was to get the supplies loaded. She wasn’t leaving here without them, threat or no. These supplies were what they’d come for.

She unstrapped Racer from his carrier and set him down on his own two feet.

“Now don’t go wondering off,” Phee warned. “Stay close to Mama.”

Racer plopped down in the shade cast by the Marauder and was content to play with the sand. She kept an eye on him as she opened the hatch and got to work. She wanted to make sure he didn’t eat it.

As she turned to start moving the crates, she saw Omega and a stranger come in through the back entrance. Normally, Phee would be suspicious of people she didn’t know—especially people who were armed—but if Hunter trusted Omega with this woman, Phee supposed she was an all right sort.

“You made it!” Omega said.

“You lose the boys?” Phee asked.

“Oh, no. They’ve gone to create a diversion. I’m supposed to prep the Marauder in case they need a quick extraction.”

Racer got to his feet and toddled over to Omega. “Up!” he demanded, tugging at her pants. Omega stooped down and picked him up.

Phee looked at the stranger. “Who are you?” she asked.

“Fennec Shand,” the woman answered. “I’m here to offer my assistance. Omega is an old friend of mine. Who are you?”

“Phee Genoa.”

Fennec stared curiously at Racer for a moment. “Who’s the little one?”

“This is Hunter,” Omega said, giving Racer’s forehead a kiss.

“Junior?”

“Stars, no,” Phee said, amused Fennec assumed Hunter was the father. “That one isn’t my type. No, I married the brains of the lot.”

Fennec seemed satisfied by the answer. Her reaction was telling. Phee wondered if Hunter was aware that Fennec was interested in him.

“If you want to offer any assistance, we need to get these crates loaded,” Phee said, getting back to the task at hand.

“Are they important?” Fennec asked, already moving to pick up a crate.

“These are medical supplies. A lot of sick children are depending on them.”

While Phee and Fennec worked to get the crates loaded onto the Marauder, Omega powered up the ship. Racer was content to sit in the co-pilot’s seat.

As Fennec was getting the last crate, a thunderous boom shook the ground under their feet. Phee looked up and saw a mushroom cloud blooming in the sky.

“There’s the diversion,” she said.

She headed inside the ship as the ship’s comm pinged. Omega switched it on.

“Uh, we’re in a bit of a situation here,” came Echo’s voice, raised to be heard over the sound of blaster fire. “We’re going to need a quick extraction.”

“Copy that,” Omega replied enthusiastically. “We’re on our way.”

Phee planted a hand on her hip. “I swear. We’re always getting those boys out of trouble.”

“I’ll be leaving now,” Fennec said, touching Omega’s shoulder.

“Oh, do you have to?” Omega asked.

“I’ve got matters of my own to attend to.” Fennec nodded at Phee. “Mrs. Genoa. It was a pleasure to meet you. See you around, kids.”

As soon as she disembarked, Omega lifted the Marauder from the ground and headed in the direction of the thick, black smoke billowing into the sky. Half the Imperial forces looked like they had been called in to deal with the situation. That wasn’t a surprise, considering the boys’ reputation.

“I see them,” Omega said.

Phee did, too. They were engaged in a full out ground assault—and holding their own just fine, by the looks of it. She couldn’t help but be proud despite the gravity of the situation.

“I’ll land in front of them.”

Omega brought the ship lower. The deflector shields took most of the enemy fire, giving the rest of the squad ample cover for a safe retreat.

Tech breezed in. “That is sufficient,” he told Omega. “I’ll take it from here.”

He switched places with her and swiftly maneuvered the Marauder away from the scene of battle.

Phee didn’t think they were in the clear. The moment they entered orbit, they were swarmed by enemy fighters. Wrecker took to the gunner’s deck to hold them off until Tech could get a clear pass to make the jump into hyperspace.

“It’s getting hot back here!” Wrecker growled.

Several systems flashed red. Tech banked left to avoid taking damage from the enemy fighters in pursuit.

“Hang on,” he said.

The ship jerked and rattled as the shields took enemy fire. Phee didn’t know how much more it could take, but she had full confidence in Tech’s abilities to get them to safety. She touched his shoulder.

The moment he saw an opening, he quickly made the jump.

“Whew,” Omega said. “That was a close one.”

“Too close,” Hunter agreed.

“What happened back there?” Phee asked.

“It doesn’t matter. None of us has a scratch on us. Let’s just get back to Pabu so we can deliver the supplies to Dr. Ro’tala.”

Elayna was waiting for them on the platform when they got back to Pabu. She was delighted and full of relief when the squad filed out, each carrying a crate of medical supplies.

“This is wonderful,” she said. “Thank you very much. I appreciate this more than words could ever say.”

“It was our pleasure, ma’am,” Crosshair said warmly. He followed her with one of the crates, eager to help.

“Another successful mission, I say,” Wrecker said. “I’m starving now. Anyone wanna get some food?”

“Count me in,” Omega said.

“Race ya!”

Tech watched as the two of them bolted off, then turned his gaze to Phee. She was holding a sleeping Racer in her arms. Racer had conked out an hour into the flight.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m pooped,” Phee said. “Let’s say we go home and relax.”

“Relaxing is all good and fine for some beings,” Tech said, “but I couldn’t possibly sit idle for too long.”

“I know. Humor me, though. I like spending quality time with my boys.”

She was in a sentimental mood. Tech understood what she needed. Since it made her happy, he would willingly spend the rest of the afternoon being idle. Admittedly, he was a little tired himself. He’d had enough excitement for one day.

He offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

Phee took his arm and smiled. “Lead the way, Brown Eyes.”

[masterofmunson]

look after you (2)

TFATWS Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary:  Sam asks you to join him and Bucky on a mission in Madripoor. When you get injured, Bucky feels the need to remind you more than once that he’s supposed to look after you now that Steve’s gone.

Warnings: tfatws spoilers, language, violence, blood, vomiting, explosions, needles, pining galore

Word Count: 4.7k+

Author’s Note: Here she is! I was originally going to post this tomorrow, but to celebrate the season finale of tfatws as well as me getting fully vaccinated, I decided to post it a day earlier! As always, comments, reblogs, and asks are highly encouraged and greatly appreciated. Enjoy and tell me what you think!

You take a day to rest and recoup before diving head first into the mission again. You slept decently and you hadn’t really thought about how exhausted you really were until you went to bed after your heart to heart with Bucky. It was a conversation that the two of you needed to have, and you wished it didn’t have to happen after you had gotten shot. You’re just glad that you’re on the same page now.

Getting out of bed, you’re careful to move around with your shoulder in mind as you wash your face and brush your teeth. You make your way to the kitchen and everyone, including Zemo, sits around the granite countertop.

“Good morning, Y/n. How’s your shoulder?” Zemo asked with a smug smirk and a cup of tea in his hands.

You glare at him and take three long strides to get to him. You slap him across the face and the smack echoes against the walls. “If you touch Bucky and I like you did last night again, I’ll kill you. Understand?” you snapped, spitting at him.

He grins and caresses the side where you hit him, messaging his fingers into the tender and red skin. “Completely.”

You walk away from him to the far side of the counter where Bucky and Sam are just staring at you with wide eyes. They hide their growing smiles behind their coffee mugs. You reach for the coffee pot and Sharon grabs a mug from the cabinet for you. You fill it with coffee and pour some creamer inside.

Bucky leans over your shoulder and mumbles in your ear, “Are you feeling okay?”

You smile softly at him and take a sip of your coffee. You nod slowly and lean against the kitchen counter. You don’t need to exchange words for Bucky to know that you’re doing okay. He knows with the small curve of your mouth.

“What’s the move now that all of Madripoor is trying to kill us? How are we going to find this Nagel guy?” you asked, looking between Sam and Sharon.

Sharon sighs, running a hand through her hair. “You should really steer clear of all of this for your own safety,” she sighed. “Especially you, now that you’re injured,” nodding over to your shoulder.

“We know it’s a risk, but we’re not going to leave until we find Nagel,” Sam interjected.

Sam and Sharon negotiate with each other as you walk towards the window. Now that the sun is up, you can see the entire skyline of High Town. It’s beautiful, all things considered since the entirety of Low Town is trying to kill you.

“You help us out, I’ll get your name cleared. Deal?”

Sharon sighs and shakes Sam’s hand. “I have a showing tonight, I’ll see what I can find. Just lay low and blend in. Stay out of trouble.”

She leaves the kitchen and disappears down the hall. You move back into the kitchen and poke around the pantry to see what kind of breakfast food she had for you to eat. To your own surprise and excitement, you see a box of Cheerios on the top shelf. You grab it and open a number of cabinets and drawers for a bowl and spoon.

“Want some, Buck? Sam?” you asked.

The two men shake their heads and Sam pulls his phone out of his pocket. “I need to make a call, I’ll be right back.”

You hum and grab the milk from the fridge. You sit at the kitchen table away from Zemo. Bucky sits in the empty chair next to you and you playfully shove a hand in his face as he watches you eat.

“Stop brooding, Buck. It’s not a good look for you, gives you wrinkles,” you teased with a grin.

“I think I’m okay with a few wrinkles, honey. I look pretty damn good for a 106 year old, don’t you think?” Bucky teased in return.

You hum with approval and a mouthful of cereal. “Mhmm. You look great, Buck.”

You finish your breakfast and put everything away. Bucky reaches for your arm and squeezes your hand. “Can I look at your shoulder? I want to make sure everything’s okay.”

You nod and Bucky grabs the abandoned first aid kit before following you into the nearest bathroom. You climb on to the bathroom counter and Bucky ruffles through the kit for the right supplies. He gathers more thread, bandages, and anticeptant and places them beside you.

“Do you need me to help you take off your sweatshirt?”

Your laughter fills the bathroom walls and you raise your brows at the ex assassin. A flirtatious smile finds its way onto your face. “Are you asking me for a strip tease, Barnes?”

His face flushes an embarrassing shade of pink and it makes you giggle even more. It makes your heart melt at his awkwardness. He stutters over his words. “N-No! I can step out if you don’t need help. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

He turns to leave and you gently grasp his arm, stopping him from leaving you. Your gentle smile and touch makes him relax. “I’m just giving you a hard time, Buck. You don’t have to leave. You might have to ask me out on a date after this, though. I don’t do this for just anyone.”

He just stares at you with a blank expression.

You laugh again, biting the inside of your cheek. It makes you feel awkward and embarrassed that he didn’t understand your teasing. “I’m joking.”

“Oh.”

You slowly pull your hoodie over your head and wince at the burning sensation. You move your bra strap to the side and Bucky carefully inspects the bandages. Blood seeps through them and he’s careful to pull the soiled bandages off your skin and into the trash. He leans forwards to get a better look at the stitching to make sure they’re still intact.

Bucky takes a clean antibacterial wipe and swipes it around the wound, picking up the dry blood and cleaning the area. You wince at the sudden stinging sensation around the sensitive area of your wound. Bucky apologizes under his breath. It sends a chill down your spine.

His fingers are soft and gentle against your skin. His touch is feather light. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He’s trying his best, all things considered.

He bandages both sides of the wound with incredible care. He’s silent as he works. His eyes are focused and his hands move with incredible ease.

When he’s finished bandaging you up, he presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder and it makes you freeze. Your throat tightens and your heart begins to race. Bucky pulls away and your eyes meet. He scratches at the back of your neck.

“Sorry. I used to do that when my sisters got hurt when they were younger. It made them feel better,” he explained with rosy cheeks. He turns to flee the bathroom and you pull him back again.

“You don’t need to apologize. It’s sweet. Thank you,” you said, fixing your hoodie.

He smiles awkwardly at you before finally leaving the bathroom. You follow behind him and ignore the weird feeling inside your chest.

….

You didn’t know what to expect when you went downstairs to the gallery. When you arrived last night, you didn’t have the time to look at the artwork in the building. You were in too much pain to notice what kind of art Sharon dealt with. What you didn’t expect was the number of people that showed up and how it seemed like a dance club rather than an art gallery.

You’re dressed in a nice pair of black pants and matching blouse. Music thunders in your ears and the bass of the music vibrates through your chest. You push through the crowd to get to the bar. You order three tequila shots and pass two of them to Bucky and Sam. You clink the glasses together before downing the liquor. It burns your throat and sends a shiver down your spine.

You nod along to the music and make your way towards the gallery portion of the building. You walk past a number of Monet paintings, and you’re stunned that Sharon was able to get her hands on such priceless pieces. You’ve never been one to analyze paintings and artwork.

You walk around the entire gallery before returning to the bar. Sam and Bucky scowl as they watch Zemo try and dance to the music. You hide your growing smile behind your beer and reach for Sam’s hand, dragging him to the dance floor. He groans loudly but doesn’t pull away.

“C’mon Grumpy Gills, Sharon said to have fun. You don’t look like you’re having fun,” you noted with a teasing smile and a glint in your eyes as you take a sip of your drink. You move your hips along to the beat of the music and Sam rolls his eyes, taking a drink from his beer.

“Shouldn’t you be asking the same thing to Barnes? Why drag me out here instead of him?” Sam asked over the loud music. He slowly starts to nod his head to the music.

You laughed loudly and grinned at him. “I have to split my time evenly between my two children!” you joked. “I can’t make it look like I have a favorite.”

Sam laughs and shakes his head at you. A growing smirk fills his features and he spins you around on the dance floor. “You’re not fooling anyone, sweetheart, least of all me. The two of you are like two lost puppies when you’re around each other. Put the old man out of his misery and tell him how you feel!”

Embarrassment washes over you and you try to hide your face with your arm. Was it really that obvious that you had feelings for Bucky? God, did Zemo notice too? For your sake and sanity, you hope not, and you know you’re not lucky enough to get away with it. He’s a perceptive asshole. The last thing you need is Zemo of all people to mention your behavior that seems more than friendly to Bucky.

It’s the last thing Bucky needs. He’s still healing and dumping your heart out to him is not a good idea. He’s figuring out how to deal with all his trauma and to adjust to life as a Bucky Barnes he’s proud to be. You don’t need to add to it. It’s not the right time and things are too complicated.

You shake your head. You can’t. You won’t. “It’s complicated, Sam. I can’t just dump it on him. He has too much to deal with and I don’t want to add to it.”

Sam shakes his head at you. You’re not surprised that he disagrees with you. He wants to knock some sense into you, but he won’t push it. “That’s not your decision to make though. You’re taking that choice away from him, and he’s had a lifetime of choices taken away from him.”

You take a step away from Sam at his insinuation. Your brows pinch together and you glare at him. “Stop psychoanalyzing me, Sam. You’re not my therapist.”

He scratches the back of his head and you look away from him. He sighs. “Listen, I just want the two of you to be happy, but I won’t push it. I won’t say anything.”

You scoff at him and roll your eyes at him. This is what you get when you try to make Sam relax and have fun. He can’t just turn it off. You push past him and make a beeline towards the elevator. You had lost interest in the party and just wanted to be left alone. Sam ruined your mood and pissed you off.

When the elevator arrives to the top floor, you raid Sharon’s liquor cabinet and open the door to the balcony. You take a seat on the floor and your legs hang from the railing as you drink in silence. You stare out into the skyline and listen to the sounds of the city mix together. It makes you miss New York City.

Car horns blare in the distance as do the sound of the rap of bullets on the other side of town. The light in the city distorts the night sky and the neon lights mix together in perfect harmony.

You’d never admit it out loud or tell Sam, but you know that he’s right. You should give Bucky the choice, but it was so much easier to just ignore your feelings for Bucky rather than just telling him outright. If you told him and he rejected you, it would make things more complicated than they already were, and it was the last thing you wanted.

You don’t think you could handle losing Bucky, especially after Steve. Just like Bucky thought you were his last connection to Steve, you felt the same way towards him, but you’d never tell him. You don’t want him to live up to Steve’s expectations. It doesn’t matter what Steve thought and he was gone. The two of you just needed to move past it.

The balcony door slides open behind you and you don’t bother turning to see who it is that’s joining you. You know that Bucky was the one behind you. He doesn’t say anything as he sits down next to you. You wordlessly pass the bottle of tequila over to him and he takes a drink without a second thought. He passes it back to you.

“What did Sam say to you?” Bucky asked, staring at your side profile. He runs his metal hand through his hair.  

You busy yourself by taking another swig of tequila. You tear your gaze from the skyline and look over at Bucky. You sigh, shrugging your shoulders at him. “Something I’m not ready to hear,” you answered vaguely. It’s a partial truth and you know that Bucky didn’t expect such a vague answer from you. You don’t want to talk about it, and he respects you enough to not push you to tell him when it’s obviously a sensitive subject for you. You’re not ready. “I guess it’s what I get for trying to get Sam to try and relax and have fun.”

Silence falls between the two of you and you take the time in between to drink. Bucky grabs the bottle from you and sets it beside him. You huff at him and watch him stand up. You look up at him and he holds his hand out for you.

“I’ll have fun with you. Don’t let him ruin the night for you,” he said as he helps you to your feet.

You smile and shake your head at him. You know he’s trying his best and it makes you adore him even more. “There’s no music, Buck.”

He shrugs and pulls you towards him. Your uninjured arm wraps around his neck and his own hands settle on your waist. You let him lead as you sway to the sounds of the city below you. He hums quietly and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“I haven’t danced since 1943,” he hummed matter of factly against the shell of your ear.

“It doesn’t seem like it,” you whispered. “You’re a good dancer.”

He gently twirls you around the balcony and a soft gasp leaves your lips as you cling to him as you’re dipped to the floor. He grins flirtatiously and pulls you back to your feet. For a split second, you see the man he was before the war, the man that Steve spoke so fondly of before he found him in Vienna all those years ago. This is the man that was notorious with the ladies and always took women dancing and stole their hearts. It makes you dizzy just thinking about it.

You hold your breath as his eyes find yours. “It’s all about finding the right partner,” he said, holding you close. “I have one hell of a dance partner, don’t you think, doll?”

Your heart beats erratically against your chest. You feel dizzy and it’s not from the tequila or the dancing. God, does he make you feel weak in the knees. You feel like you can’t breathe with him so close to you. He’s warm and intoxicating and it makes you feel like you’re about to do something stupid.

Your eyes find his cerulean blues and you feel like you’re drowning in him. They’re soft and gentle with a hint of something more hidden behind them. The haunted look in his eyes is gone as he stares at you like you’re the only woman in the world. Is this how women felt back in the 40s when they danced with him?

You stop moving, but you don’t pull apart. You don’t think you have the will power to. You like the way his hands hold your waist and how his touch lingers, making you want more. You’re a puddle in his arms. You only whisper his name as it hangs in the air.

“Yeah, honey?”

He leans forward and rests his forehead against yours. His eyes never leave yours and your fingers grip the back of his black blazer like your life depends on it. His smile is soft and gentle. He doesn’t push or ask questions. He’s the perfect gentleman, but he wants you to make the first move. That much is obvious and you know when to take the hint.

You’re going to do it. You’re going to ask Bucky to kiss you.

He must feel the same, he has to. He wouldn’t say that to just anyone. It makes your heart race at what he’s insinuating. He wants you just as much as you want him. You tug him closer and open your mouth to respond.

You’re immediately cut off and interrupted by a hard knock against the glass door. It makes your heart leap inside your throat and you pull away from Bucky’s arms. Embarrassment washes over you when you realize that it’s Zemo of all people is the one that caught the two of you dancing together on the balcony. He won’t let you live it down now.

He slowly opens the sliding door and looks between the two of you. He smirks and clasps his hands together. “Terribly sorry to interrupt what you’re doing, but Sharon found the doctor. It’s time to go,” he said.

You don’t say anything. You’re too embarrassed and you just wanted Zemo to leave you alone. You don’t have a snarky retort that you’re sure that he’s anticipating. Instead, you nod without uttering a single word and push past him to reenter the building, ignoring the flush you feel.

Zemo and Bucky follow close behind you and the journey to the ground floor is silent as you stand in the elevator. The silence between you and Bucky is suffocating, but you keep your eyes forward and ignore the stares Zemo sent between the two of you.

When the elevator doors open, you race outside and join Sharon and Sam at the front of the building. You ignore the weird look Sam sends you and climb into the front seat without a word as the others trail behind you.

You’re silent the whole way to the docks. You listen to Sharon quietly and keep your gaze out the window. She parks in front of the loading zone and you step out of the car, waiting for Sharon to walk you in the right direction.

Bucky grabs your hand and pulls you behind the rest of the group. It makes your heart race and jump inside your throat. He squeezes it gently.

“You should stay behind. I don’t want you to get hurt again,” Bucky murmured.

Your brows pinch together and you drop his hand. He has another thing coming if he thinks you’re just going to stand around and do nothing. It’s not in your nature. It never has been.

You won’t let whatever’s lingering between the two of you get in the way of doing your job. You don’t care that he wants to keep you safe and look after you. You’ll be fine.

“Is this your way of telling me that I’ll just slow you down?” you snapped, walking past him with a huff, rejoining the group.

Bucky runs after you and shakes his head. “No. You’re injured. I don’t want you to get hurt again. I just want you to be safe.”

“I’ll be fine. Let it go.”

You walk away from him and enter the metal container after Sam. Sharon’s voice echoes through your ear and your hands trail against the back of the container and gently push against it. It opens under the pressure on your hand and you turn your head to look at Sam.

You pull your gun out of its holster and hold it out in front of you. You let Sam lead the way and you follow close behind. You're soft on your feet as you walk further into the building. You can hear music ahead and it grows louder as you walk through the lab and see the back of Dr. Nagel.

Sam pulls the needle of the record player off, stopping the music and the doctor spins on his heels. You aim your gun at him as he looks between the two of you. His eyes widen as he looks behind you. You know that without looking that Bucky stands just behind you like a lingering shadow. You don’t know if he’s doing it to intimidate the doctor or to protect you.

Bucky moves from behind you and stalks over to Nagel. He presses his gun against the doctor’s temple, shooting a warning shot just beside him in an effort to get him to talk. Dread washes over you when you realize that the man standing in front of you is responsible for the serum that Karli and some of her followers had taken and that there were 20 or so of them running around the world causing chaos.

“Is there more serum in this lab?” Bucky asked, pressing the gun further against his temple.

“No,” Nagel answered. “Karli took them all. She wanted me to give the serum to some woman named Donya Madani and I refused.”

You roll your eyes and glance around the lab. Sharon shouts in your ear, telling the four of you that it was time to go now that bounty hunters were here looking to kill you. You look at a number of vials that were a variety of different colors and keep a close eye on Zemo as he wanders around the lab.

You should’ve seen it coming. You should’ve kept a closer eye on Zemo as he walked around when he shot the doctor in the chest, killing him instantly. Sam knocks the gun out of his hand and pins him against the wall. You aim your gun at Zemo’s head when Sam lets him go.

“Give me one good reason not to kill him right now, Sam,” you snapped. “He killed our one and only lead!”

Bucky rests a hand on your shoulder and you brush him off, glaring at him. “We need him, Y/n.”

“The hell we do! He killed our lead!”

“We need to leave, now!” Sharon shouted, running into the lab, completely ignoring the dead doctor on the floor.

Suddenly, you’re flown from your feet as the lab bursts into flames. Your body slams against the container and it knocks the wind out of you. Your shoulder burns with pain and there’s ringing in your ears. Pain erupts against your spine and you’re in a daze. You can barely breathe. You groan and gasp loudly. You roll on your side and can barely pull yourself up. You can’t see straight and you feel like you’re about to puke.

The sounds of Bucky and Sam yelling your name feels so far away. You can barely make out Bucky’s blurry figure above you as he hauls you to your feet. You sway on your feet and Bucky’s hands grasp at your face, gently shaking you out of your daze.

You stumble out of the container and the sound of bullets fill your ears. You still can’t see straight and can barely hear Sam and Bucky yell at one another over the bullets and ringing in your ears. You duck under some shrapnel and squeeze your eyes shut.

Bucky drags you from the shrapnel you’re hiding under and you run down a number of corridors until you hide into an empty container. Your breathing is short and shallow and your head spins. Bucky holds your face in his hands and you see his mouth move, but you can’t hear anything he’s saying to you.

You pull your body away from his and stumble to the back of the shipping container. You keel over and everything you’ve eaten and drank over the last day and a half leaves your system. Your body burns with pain and you drag yourself back towards Sam and Bucky.

You stumble into Sam’s chest and he holds you up by the waist. He helps you out of the container as Zemo approaches in a sleek convertible. You blink rapidly to focus your gaze and weakly attempt to step away from the car and out of Sam’s hold.

“No. I’m not spending another second with Zemo,” you said.

“We need him,” Bucky attempted to reason with you.

You glare at him and Sam wordlessly climbs into the back with you beside him. You’re silent the whole way to the plane as you try and gain your bearings again. You know without looking that the stitches in your shoulder were torn open due to the explosion. You feel the blood soak through your shirt as the pain slowly increases.

Sam helps you up the steps to the plane and guides you to the back of the aircraft. You sit down and Bucky hurries over to your side with a first aid kit in his hands. You huff childishly and attempt to push him away.

“I’m pissed at you,” you stated matter of factly under your breath. You look out the window to keep from looking at him.

“I know,” Bucky replied, gently tearing your shirt from your body, leaving you in just your bra as he moves to inspect your wound.

Sam hands you a bottle of water and you drink it slowly. “I’m pissed at you, too.”

Sam laughs, nodding at you. “I know.”

“I should be relaxing in the mountains of Montana, but noooo, you insisted that you needed my help. Here I am with a bullet wound because you assholes can’t do anything without me. I expect full compensation when this shit is over.”

Bucky and Sam both laugh quietly at you. Bucky’s fingers are soft and nimble as he cleans the area around your wound. Sam leaves the two of you alone and sits at the front of the plane to keep an eye on Zemo.

You wince as the needle pierces your skin. Bucky apologizes under his breath as he stitches your wound closed again. You watch him carefully as he fixes you up. His eyes are razor focused and his brows are pinched together as he takes care of you.

“We really need to stop ending up like this,” you hummed teasingly at him. “You’ve seen me in just a bra far too much in the last couple of days and I haven’t even seen you without a shirt.”

Bucky grunts in response. “Maybe if you stopped hurting yourself, I wouldn’t have to see you without a shirt on,” he said. “Someone has to look after you and take care of you. You and I both know you much rather it be me instead of Bird Brain.”  

You laugh softly and grin at him. “Hmm…. maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I am, honey.”

You shove him gently and the smile he gives you makes your heart stop. You shake your head and bite the inside of your cheek. He leans back on his thighs and reaches for your abandoned duffle bag and carefully zips it open. He grabs a clean shirt from your bag and helps you into it.

You thank him quietly and he presses a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. You lean into his touch and he takes the seat beside you.

You fall asleep to the feeling of Bucky’s hand in yours, his fingers brushing against the back of your palm.

[blackbat05]

Blue Skies

Bucky x Reader (500 Challenge)

A/N: Congrats @tom-whore-dleston for 500 followers once again! Thanks for letting me write this, hopefully it’s as good as I think it should be? I also think I did it correctly? As always, feedback is appreciated!

Genre: PG13, Angst

Notes: Own characters, usage of Y/N 

Warnings: Language, injuries, blood, death, trauma. This story is one of my longer stories.

***

3am. You were pacing back and forth in the house that you shared with Bucky.

You really should be going to sleep. As a medic, you had a long day tomorrow, covering for a colleague as a favor. But the radio silence from your boyfriend was making you more anxious by the second.

Just as you considered pouring yourself the fourth of tea, the door unlocks, Bucky looking worse for wear stumbling in with a grey duffel bag. Tossing the bag to who knows where, he flops down onto the couch, groaning in pain.

‘Hey doll, you still awake.’ Bucky sees you coming with the kit. ‘You didn’t have to.’

‘It’s ok Buck, I couldn’t sleep anyway.’ You set the kit on the coffee table, getting to work. It seems that Bucky got off lucky this time - a couple of bruises and grazing here and there.

Maybe you spoke to soon.

As you worked your way up to his right arm, Bucky winces, jolting back. He tries to move away from you, but you were quicker. Removing the bandage that must have been applied by Sam, you were horrified to see that his stitch had burst open, causing the bandage to be slowly dipped in red.

‘Buck! Your stitch, it’s-’

‘It’s alright doll, nothing serious.’ He attempts to move again before being hit with the soreness of an open wound.

‘Just let me look at it. I’ll be quick-’

‘IT’S FINE.’ Bucky finds himself raising his voice, almost instantly regretting that as he sees your facial expression do a three-sixty. The temperature of the room had dropped, silence filling the air.

You decided to leave the kit, dumping the supplies on the table. You felt like a fool, waiting for him into the wee hours of the night, only for this to happen.

‘Wait, I didn’t mean to… please just-’ Bucky gets up from the couch as quickly as he could, trailing behind you before stopping when you spun around, tears evident in your eyes.

‘Not a single call, or a text at least to tell me that you’re fine James,’ you used his name to tell him that you meant business. ‘I was so worried that Sam would knock on our door telling me that one of your harebrained plans would have gotten you killed.’

Bucky holds back, knowing that he shouldn’t have lashed out at you. You were right. You could have yelled at him the moment he got back home but you chose not to.

You huffed, not knowing how things had gotten so out of hand. Being the pacifist that you were, you left to the spare room that was used occasionally whenever Sam came over. You had no intention to speak to face him for the rest of the night. 

***

Bucky wakes up to the heat that was creeping into the bedroom. Right hand automatically reaching out to the cold sheets, he remembers what happened last night. 

He really wanted to stay in bed today. 

Going about his usual routine, he sees a plate of toast and a mug of coffee prepared at the counter. A pink post-it was taped to the side of the plate. 

I’m sorry for yesterday. Left some breakfast for you. We’ll talk about this tonight. Seriously. 

Bucky folds the tiny piece of paper carefully, slipping it into his pocket. He did not deserve this. Especially not how after he treated you. He had to make it up to you somehow. 

He really hated what he was about to do next, but he was desperate man. 

‘Wassup metal brain!’ Sam picks up exactly on the third ring. 

Yeah, he hated this. 

***

‘Y/N! Did you hear anything that I just said?’ Your co-worker Carrie waves a hand in front of your face. 

‘Huh? Oh sorry. What did you say?’ 

‘I said, we’re having dinner tonight if there’s no last minute calls. You down?’ 

You think about the note that you left for Bucky this morning before leaving for work. ‘Sorry Carrie, not today.’ Usually, you wouldn’t have passed on dinner with your closest friend, not when you both had a rare opportunity to leave work on time as a medic, but a promise was a promise. 

‘Boyfriend troubles?’ Carrie asked. Nothing could slip by that girl. All you could do was nod numbly. 

She sympathetically pats you on the shoulder. ‘Chin up soldier. If Bucky gives you any more crap, I don’t care if he’s an Avenger, I’ll castrate him myself.’ You wanted to laugh, but something was weighing the side of your lips down. 

Placing the last of the medical supplies in the storage room, the two of you made your exit, ready to face another day. 

***

‘You really screwed up this time huh Buck?’ 

‘Would you stop saying that? I don’t need anymore reminders Sam.’ Bucky snarls, regretting his decision the moment he instantly stepped into the house. 

‘Noted.’ The former pararescueman raises his hands up, although Bucky wasn’t sure if he was serious on keeping that promise. ‘Well, it’s simple. You just need to be honest with her. Tell her that you were being a douchebag,’ Sam narrowly avoids the tissue box that flew a few inches from his face, ‘and not be such a closed up dick. She needs to know that she’s appreciated man. Then again, may be a challenge for you.’ 

Sam’s phone rang. ‘Hold on a second lover boy,’ Sam grabs his phone. ‘I’ll be right back after this call.’

Bucky ponders on his partner’s advice. Sam had a point. All this while, you had accommodated to him, to his needs. You never forced him to share any of his missions if he felt uncomfortable, you left him alone when needed, and most importantly...

You always waited for him. 

‘Buck!’ Sam calls him out from his thoughts. ‘Emergency. A collapsed building. Local department needs extra hands.’

As much as Bucky bickered with Sam nearly 24/7, he knew what was going on in his mind too. And by the look of distress on the Captain’s face, something was very wrong. 

‘Sam? Spit it out.’ Bucky’s demand had made him regret asking immediately. 

‘It’s Y/N. She’s trapped inside.’

***

Two hours earlier, 

‘Well there goes our dinner!’ Carrie changes into her gear swiftly. ‘You told Bucky?’ 

‘He’s probably on Avenger business. Besides, not like this is our first rodeo.’ You grabbed your own gear, changing in record speed, running to the vehicle where the rest of your team was waiting with your partner. 

‘It’s a broadcasting studio. A group of students from a nearby university are the only known survivors so far. Estimated number unknown. Our main priority is to get them out. The team on site has assessed that the building is safe to enter, but we only have limited time before the structure goes unstable.’ Your team leader briefs the group as the vehicle speeds to its destination. 

You had experience as a medic, seen it all. But that didn’t make it any easier. 

The red building that once stood proud on the busy streets of the business district was now in shambles. You weren’t even sure if it was remotely possible for people to be underneath the rubble. 

No. You had to be optimistic. 

A uniformed soldier greets the team, going straight into business. ‘We need a minimum of three medics. They’ll follow each of us in to do a quick assessment.’ 

You didn’t think. And evidently Carrie had the same thoughts as the seniors on the team. ‘Not letting you have all the glory can I?’ She smiles, giving me a fist bump as good luck before being led away by the soldier that she would be tagging along with. 

You meet your own ‘buddy’, a soldier with salt and pepper hair who introduced himself as Hal. 

‘We’ll be going in from the front,’ he briefs you as the two of you briskly walked past the tape that was keeping out nosy pedestrians and distressed relatives. ‘We’ve detected at least two of them in there. One’s looking pretty banged up from their heat signature though.’ 

Switching on his flashlight on his helmet, Hal takes the lead, crawling into the tight space. ‘This can take our weight. But don’t touch anything at the sides.’ 

Following his instructions, you found yourself crawling for a while before seeing a flash of light that came from a phone. Two girls were waiting for us, dust covering every inch of their skin. 

‘We’re here to get you out. Follow whatever we tell you to do okay?’ You moved to the figure lying on the floor, her leg twisted into an odd position. Hal attends to the other girl, asking simple questions to assess her state. 

‘She’s fine.’ Hal tells you. ‘I’ll get her out of her first and come back for you.’ He gives you an extra walkie-talkie for good measure. ‘Stay away from the sides.’ Hal reminds you again, leaving you with the remaining girl who was drifting in and out of consciousness.

‘Hey honey…’ you tapped her face gently. ‘Stay with me okay? We’re going to get you out of here.’

She gives you a dazed look. ‘I’m scared… I’m scared.’

‘It’s okay. I’m here with you.’ You held her hand, praying that Hal would make his way back for the girl soon.

You knew you weren’t in here for more than three hours, but the heat was starting to close in on the two of you. Moving yourself into a more comfortable position, the building starts to to shake again. You pressed the button on the walkie-talkie, attempting to reach Hal.

‘Hal! What the hell’s going on?’

‘Structure’s unstable! Get o- to- Ca- you- hear-’ The buzz became louder before the connection to the outside world was cut off. You had to think fast. Sitting here like an open duck with an injured civilian was not an option.

With your strength, you lifted the girl, placing her underneath the table before dragging your supplies along with you.

And thank god for you quick thinking as a huge debris came crashing down onto where the both of you were seconds earlier. Great, now your only way of exit was blocked.

Although you were fortunate not to have any part of you flatten like a pancake, you were unaware that several stray metal pieces had found it’s way to your sides amongst the confusion.

Turning your attention back to the girl, your current focus was to get her out alive.

***

‘Let us through!’ Sam raises his voice as the two men walk past the tapes.

‘Captain!’ Hal rushes to greet him. ‘Thank you for coming down on such short notice.’

‘What’s the situation?’

‘We’ve managed to get 9 out of 10 civilians. The remaining civilian is stuck on the basement with the medic. The building’s currently too unstable to move in at the moment.’

‘Can’t anything else be done?’ Bucky finds himself speaking for the very first time since Sam broke the news to him at home.

‘I’m sorry Sergeant. We try to move one debris, the whole structure may just collapse.’

A girl on the stretcher passes by. She reaches out to grasp at Hal’s wrist. ‘My friend… please, you have to save her.’ She begs weakly before being taken away.

Bucky was confused at the sudden intrusion in their conversation, finally putting the dots together. He abruptly grabs the soldier by the collar, going dangerously close to his face.

‘You dragged her down there and left her alone! YOU LEFT HER DOWN THERE!’ Bucky’s unexpected aggression left the two men speechless.

‘Buck let him go!’ Sam cuts in, forcing him to release his death grip on Hal. ‘It’s not his fault, Y/N was just doing her job!’

But Bucky had already blocked out the rest of the conversation. Sam apologizes to the slightly shaken soldier before turning back to focus on his distracted partner.

‘Buck! I need you to focus. It’s no good if you’re emotional. That’s not going to help Y/N.’ Sam firmly grips both of Bucky’s shoulders, planting him back to reality.

Then, as Sam attempts to bring his partner back to earth, a crackle could be heard from the walkie talkie that Hal had given Sam before leaving to tend to the injured.

‘Hel-lo? Anyo-ne?’ Your distorted voice seemed to have did the trick, bringing back Bucky’s focus.

‘Y/N! It’s Sam! Can you hear me?’ Sam speaks slowly, hoping that his voice could capture on the other end.

‘Sam! Yes I-’ The short lived joy was cut off again as the static returned.

***

‘Shit!’ You mumbled, placing the walkie-talkie aside.

‘Miss?’ The girl reaches her hand out in the air. You sit by her side, trying not to flinch at how cold her hand was despite the unforgiving heat.

‘Call me Y/N. And don’t worry honey, we’re going to get you out. I need you to hang in there for me okay?’

She nods. ‘What’s your name?’ You ask her, trying to make her stay awake.

‘Tara,’ she seems to understand your intentions, licking her lips before continuing. ‘I’m a student. Was here on a field trip.’

Grateful for her resilience, you encouraged her further. ‘How about you tell me more about what you do? I always wanted to be a journalist.’

***

‘Captain, you’re only going to have thirty minutes until the structure goes unstable.’ The commander passes him a thick black control. ‘We’ve managed to track their heat signatures.’

Sam nods, keeping an eye on Bucky. ‘Thank you Commander Louis, we’ll take it from here.’

He puts a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, hoping that it would calm down the man who looked like he was about to burst his way into the rubble any moment.

‘Buck. We do this on my orders. I need you to agree to this.’ Sam finds himself staring at cold blue eyes, tinged with desperation.

And regret?

Bucky marches forward, not bothering to spare Sam a glance.

‘Knew he would do that.’

***

‘What about you Y/N?’ Tara asks. ‘Why did you want to become a medic?’

You paused, seriously considering her question. At the same time, you worked on focusing on your breathing that had became increasingly labored over the past few hours. Pushing the feeling to the back of your mind, you answered the young girl.

‘I wanted to help people to see the blue skies once more.’ You smiled at her. ‘I know, it sounds real poetic and cheesy.’

‘I think it’s beautiful.’

Just then, you could hear movement from the rubble that was blocking the exit. Was help finally here? Waiting with bated breath, you could finally breathe easily when a familiar head poked out from the empty space.

‘Good to see you Y/N!’

‘Sam! Are you a sight for sore eyes. You think you could spare a hand here?’

Squeezing through the confined space, you see Bucky trail after him. Now’s not the time.

Sam opens a stretcher, placing Tara onto it. ‘We gotta move. Me and Buck will pull. Stay close.’ He takes the lead, lifting the stretcher in head first. Switching on the light on his helmet, he braves ahead.

‘Y/N…’

‘Bucky, whatever it is, we can talk about it later, ok?’ Perhaps it came out harsher then intended as Bucky’s lips pursed into a thin line, conversation going dead.

You lost track of time as you crawled through the small space. You should have been relieved, knowing that the claustrophobic feeling that you were experiencing for the past few hours would go away.

How you hated your ability to sense danger.

Structure around you moving violently, you were able to get a glimpse beyond Bucky’s shoulder that the four of you were nearly out of this hell hole. Hal was waiting at the end of the ‘tunnel’, words forming on his mouth.

‘Get out of there now! The structure’s going to collapse!’

The two men grit their teeth, pulling the stretcher as quick as they can, with you keeping up with their pace. You were almost there, when you felt the dull pain that had been bugging at your sides increased.

Slowing down, your hand comes into contact with warm, sticky blood.

Get out of here first Y/N.

However, your body had other plans.

As the trio exited the rubble with the help of the rescue team, Bucky turns back, expecting to see you right behind them.

‘Y/N!’ He sees you sprawled on the ground, a few meters away from safety. The building continues to shake violently.

‘Sir it’s not safe-’

‘FUCK OFF!’ Bucky had no time to be nice. He shakes the hand off him, running back to you. Lifting you by the armpits, he manages to get you out with a millisecond to spare.

‘Oh thank god,’ he brushes the stray hair from your face. ‘Are you-’ Bucky freezes as he sees your unusually pale figure.

‘Y/N. Doll. Talk to me!’ He gently taps you on the cheek. Blinking slowly, you stare blankly at him before looking at the skies.

‘I’m sorry Buck,’ you lift the sides of your shirt, revealing multiple metal pieces that was badly rusted.

Bucky shook his head, in denial. ‘No… please… SAM! SAM WE NEED HELP!’

You gripped his hand, bringing it to your face. ‘It’s okay Buck. I just want to be with you.’ You breathed out each word with difficulty.

He tries to hold on to the last piece of hope that was slowly slipping away from his grasp.

‘I’m sorry doll… I’m sorry I shouldn’t have lost my temper at you.’ Tears roll down his face that was covered in dust. He knows that he’s loosing you, so he wipes his eyes, in order to see you for the last time. ‘Please just hang in there. Please…’

Sam runs over, stopping in his track. A former army personnel, he had a fair share of medical knowledge. And right now, the only thing he could do was to give the two of you space.

‘It’s okay Buck. I know you didn’t mean it.’ Using your remaining energy, you squeezed his hand. ‘Could you just stay with me? I want to see the skies.’

He gently places your head on his lap, for you to feel the sun on your face.

As your breathing becomes weaker, Bucky knows that he had to let go. He bends down, kissing you tenderly.

He knew, that a kiss was always done with one’s eyes closed.

Body going limp, Bucky releases a guttural scream that eventually turned into choked sobs. How did it go so wrong? If only he knew… He had so many things to say to you, so many things that he had to fix right.

But what good did it do to have any regrets?

That’s why he made sure that the last thing you saw was his baby blues.

The color of the skies that you had always loved so much.

*

*

*

A/N: Well, I’m sorry that it was longer than I expected! Just kept writing and I think this probably had the best flow?😅 Really hope it’s okay and thanks for reading!

[alloftheimaginess]

Forever

Requested on wattpad

Warnings: mentions of cancer, death and shitty writing

Also excuse the sad imagines I’ll be posting. They are helping me with my grieving process

"Mommy I need you to record me" Phoebe says as soon as I walk off set.

"What's happening?" I ask going over to her and she smiles at my costume.

“I like your costume” she says and I smile at her.

"But I want you to record me doing something" she says and I nod pulling my phone out.

"Okay I'm recording. What are you going to do?" I ask recording her as we move to outside where the filming isn’t taking place.

"Tom taught me how to cartwheel and it was super cool because he was in his Spider-Man costume" she says grinning at the camera.

"Show me, I want to see it" I say and she nods and she runs back a little and she does it halfway and I cheer.

"That was amazing bee" I say cheering her on and she bows.

"Thank you, thank you" she says blowing kisses and she runs up to the camera smiling a big toothless smile and she makes a face before covering the camera.

"We got you something bee" I say and she looks up from her homework.

"What is it?" She asks.

"A gift" I say and Chris hands her the box.

"What is this?" She asks shaking it.

"It's a surprise for you" he says.

"But it's not my birthday, that was last month and Christmas isn't for another month" she says.

"We know but we wanted to surprise you" I say and she nods.

"Okay" she says unwrapping it and she takes the top off and she starts screaming as she climbs on her knees in the seat to get a better look inside the box and she pulls out the ultrasound.

"You have a baby?" She asks.

"Yeah we do" I say and she jumps up and down with excitement on her knees as she pulls the other stuff out the box.

"It's so tiny and cute" she says cuddling the onesie.

"Do you know what it is?" She asks.

"Not yet, we are going to figure that out soon. Uncle Scott and auntie Sn are throwing a reveal party" I say and she holds the ultrasound up squealing.

"I can't wait to give this baby all my love" she says.

"What about us?" Chris asks and she looks up from looking closely at the ultrasound.

"I don't have enough to love all three of you so I'll love you both until the baby gets here. It's not that hard to understand daddy" she says with a duh tone and he laughs.

"I guess it's the only logical thing to do, foolish me" he says and I laugh as she kisses the ultrasound.

"Last session" I say and she grins at my phone as I record her.

"I'm going to beat cancers booty" she says and I laugh.

"Yes you are, you're my little superhero" I say.

"I want to be the Hulk" she says.

"The Hulk?" I ask and she grins even wider nodding.

"Yes. He doesn't have to wear clothes and no one complains when he doesn't, nothing scares him and he can't die. Also uncle Mark is cute" she says giggling and I laugh.

"Totally agree with you there" I say.

"Plus who wouldn't want to be green?" She asks.

"I wouldn't want to be green" I say.

"Yeah because you're boring" she says and I gasp holding my chest.

"You wound me" I say.

"I'm just kidding mommy you're not boring. You just don't understand the Hulk" she says laughing and Chris walks in looking down at his phone.

"Daddy!" She yells and he jumps causing her to laugh even harder.

"What's up bug?" He asks turning to face her as he puts his phone away.

"If you had to be any other superhero that's not Captain America who would you be?" She asks.

"Ooh maybe Iron man" he says and she nods.

"Who did mommy pick?" He asks.

"She didn't. I did though" she says.

"You'd be the Hulk because he doesn't have to wear clothes, huh?" He asks and I laugh shaking my head.

"That was her exact answer" I say and he laughs unpacking her lunch.

"Let me in or else I'll beat down your door, then two strangers who had been two silhouettes on the shade said to my shock you're on the wrong block" she sings.

"Silhouette" I sing.

"Silhouette" she sings super high and she instantly starts cracking up.

"Silhouette" I sing and she doubles over from laughter.

"Silhouette" she sings through her giggles, gasping for air and I start laughing with her.

"I appreciate your dedication to this performance" I say and she leans on me trying to calm down.

"The show must go on" she says in giggles and I smile at her and she leans on my arm trying to completely calm down.

"Merry Christmas, merry Christmas, merry Christmas" she sings over and over as she dances through the house and she drops a gift in my lap and I look up and she drops one on Chris.

"What's this?" He asks.

"A gift for you" she says.

"Uncle Scotty helped me get them so open them" she says and I rip the paper off and it's a jewelry box and I open it and it's a heart necklace.

"It has all of our initials including the baby’s. Right there" she says and I smile at it.

"It's beautiful" I say and I hug her and she hugs me back kissing my head.

"I love it" I say.

"Okay it's my turn" Chris says and she pulls away from me and he opens his and it's a watch.

"It's us" she says tapping the watch.

"I'm going to wear this everywhere" he says.

"Good. Never take it off" she says.

"Never" he says and they pinkie promise.

"What is it? What is it?" She asks and I laugh as Chris and I stand beside her and he starts to hand her the string.

"As soon as you pull this string we'll fi-" she snatches the string from him and pulls it before he can finish telling her and everyone's laughs turn to cheers as pink confetti and powder falls over us and she starts squealing as she jumps around.

"It's a girl!" She screams running around us and he kisses me and I kiss him back.

"We're having another girl, you're officially outnumbered" I say and he laughs as Phoebe continues to scream.

"I think we both are" he says kissing me again and Phoebe jumps and he picks her up and she wraps her arms around my head pulling me close.

"I'm so excited" she says out of breath and I laugh.

"I couldn't tell" I say and she leans her cheek on Chris’ cheek.

"I'm getting a baby sister. I can't wait to meet her" she says trying to catch her breath.

"Hey bee how about we go get some of the powder on auntie Cobie and uncle Taran" I say and she quickly nods and Chris sets her down and she bends down picking some up off the ground and she runs off over to where they are standing.

"I wanna be where the people are. I wanna see, wanna see em dancing" Phoebe sings laid back as she's cuddled up with Chris and the baby as we watch the little mermaid after coming home from bringing the baby home from the hospital.

"Walking around on those what do you call 'em? Oh, feet" she sings.

"Flipping your fins you don't get too far, legs are required for jumping, dancing, strolling along down a- what's that word again?" Chris sings.

"Street" Phoebe sings loudly and I smile at them.

"Up where they walk, up where they run up where they stay all day in the sun, wondering free. Wish I could be part of that world" she sings quietly grabbing the baby's hand.

"What would I give if I could live out of these waters? What would I pay to spend a day warm on the sand?" She sings laying her cheek against Chris' as she watches the movie with tears in her eyes.

"You can try. Oh but I-I love you means you're never ever ever getting rid of me" she sings dancing in place.

"Ready for your check?" I ask.

"Not quite. Pie for everybody. I grew up an only child in the suburb of the city. I spent my days alone, my only friend was a stray kit-"

"Are we going to sing show tunes all day or are we going to get dressed so we can leave?" Chris asks cutting her off and she turns around.

"Daddy you're ruining the video so if you aren't going to sing get out the way" she says trying to push him out the shot and he plants his feet and she starts groaning.

"But I love you means you're never ever ever getting rid of me" he says and she starts giggling.

"Daddy stoppp" she says using her back to add pressure to his leg to move him and she starts to slip and he catches her by her arms and she laughs.

"Okay, I'll move. I wanted to see your mom anyway" he says walking over and kissing me.

"Where's my kiss?" She asks.

"You didn’t want one. All you wanted was for me to get out the way and leave you alone" he says.

"You don't have to leave" she says and he picks her up and she kisses him.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Bee, happy birthday to you” everyone sings as Chris walks the cake into the living room where everyone is and she holds Ainsley at the table.

“Come on chunky monkey we have to make a wish and blow out the candles” she says keeping Ainsley from touching the flames as she quickly makes a wish and blows out the candles.

“What did you wish for?” I ask and she looks up at me.

“A million more birthdays like this” she says smiling and I rub her cheek with my thumb and her smile grows.

“Can I cut the cake?” She asks.

“Yeah, the first piece. Daddy will help” I say.

“Yay” she says and I grab Ainsley.

“Bye chunky monkey, I’ll cut you a slice first” she says rubbing her hands together excitedly causing everyone to laugh.

“Chunky monkey can’t have cake yet” Chris says.

“But daddy today is chunky monkeys sixth month birthday and my seventh birthday so she should be able to have cake” she says pulling on her best puppy dog eyes.

“She got you there. Try to say no to that little face” I say and he groans.

“Fine, a little piece” he says.

“Do you hear that chunky monkey, daddy is going to let us eat all the cake” she says playing with leg and he helps her cut the first slice.

Yn and Chris Evan share videos of their seven year old just days after she passes away from cancer letting everyone know that Phoebe’s or Bee’s (as everyone in her life called her) spirit will live on forever.

[manonblaqkbeak]

Group Hang

..........me again. i haven’t written in so long and it feels good to start it up again. this time it’s a human au. just fluff and aelin’s bad cooking and rowan defending her bad cooking because he actually likes it

3083 words

When Aelin had suggested a dinner at their house for the next group hangout, Rowan was more than happy to accommodate that suggestion.

The last hangout was bowling, and while Rowan excelled at many sports, bowling was strangely not one of them. He almost got banned from the local one when he started swearing his head off when his last bowl was close to becoming a strike when it veered to the side and didn't knock down a single pin.

All their friends behind him starting laughing, Aelin too, when he started going on about how the floor was uneven, the game was rigged and just had a general hissy fit that he never had in his entire adult life.

To be fair, he had one too many beers and it was hot as hell in the bowling alley, the air conditioner barely working that night. So he blamed those conditions on his attitude.

To make it worse, Aelin had managed to snap a picture of him sulking in his seat, posted it on her Instagram with the caption 'when your old man sucks at bowling and comes last'. Rowan hadn't realised it until the morning when he woke up to dozen of notifications from people tagging him and laughing.

Apparently, according to his comment, Fenrys saved the picture and made it Rowan's contact photo. With others saying that they were going to do the same.

Even Lorcan, the stoic bastard, had found it funny.

Aelin laughed at his expression as they laid in bed together, and laughed harder when he sputtered, “I'm only five years older than you!” and fucked her with the vigorous strength of a thirty year old healthy man (Aelin had never climaxed so hard, which made Rowan puff up with pride afterwards, with Aelin rolling her eyes, even though her blood was singing in her veins and a dopey grin was on her face—it was her her secret joy to ruffle Rowan's feathers whenever she could).

So yes, while the aftermath of the bowling night was much better than his losing, he was more than glad to have a quiet night at home; although his friends weren't really the quiet bunch, especially when Aelin, Lysandra and Fenrys had one too many.

However, what he wasn't expecting when he and Aelin went grocery shopping that Saturday morning was when Aelin claimed that she was going to be cooking.

Now, Rowan loved Aelin, loved her so much that he had started planning the night he would propose to her, but the thing about Aelin was that she couldn't cook—at all.

But he grew to love her cooking; came to love the burned crunch that always accompanied it, came to love the under-cooked and overcooked food, loved the dryness of what she piled on his plate when it was her night to cook, the lumpy and misshapen cakes that she made whenever the desire to bake came to her.

Aelin was skilled in many things and cooking was just something she completely sucked at—like Rowan and his bowling. Truly, he didn't mind, although it did stump him how she managed to ruin a sandwich when she sometimes made his lunch for him for work.

Unfortunately, their friends were not him. Dorian, Gods bless him, still went on about the time Aelin accidentally gave him food poisoning on his twenty-first birthday with the homemade cake she gifted him.

Which was why Rowan was the cook in the relationship. His father was a chef and while Rowan wasn't as good as him, he knew enough to cook well and how to present food on a plate.

While they started their weekly shop, Aelin claimed that she was making lasagna, and Rowan was all ready prepared for the under-cooked pasta sheets, salty marinara sauce and overly milky Béchamel sauce and dry mince meat.

He offered to help but she said she would be fine. They continued their shop, with Rowan always appreciating the sight when she had to bend over to pick up something, with Aelin in turn appreciating the sight of Rowan's muscles moving smoothly when he reached for something on the high top shelves.

So here they were, hours later, Rowan watching Aelin as she moved around their kitchen, adding things in from time to time (he was fairly certain he saw her dump some cinnamon in the mince meat, but didn't say anything). She did ask for his help to stir the Béchamel sauce as she made her homemade salad dressing (which would more than have too much olive oil in it, but again, Rowan didn't mind).

He noticed that the sauce was lumpy and on closer inspection, realised that it was large chunks of onion (and why were there large onion chunks? Because she was wanted an obscene amount of onion, she said when he asked about it).

It smelled good though when it was all done and his stomach grumbled as it rested on the kitchen counter, with Aelin rushing to have a quick shower.

Her quick shower always meant twenty minutes, but Rowan tidied the kitchen as she showered and placed the store-bought garlic bread in the oven when the doorbell rang.

Sighing at the incoming whining that would occur when everyone realised that Aelin had cooked, Rowan trudged over to the front door, painted a beautiful shade of Terrasen green.

Rowan barely opened his mouth to greet everyone before they made themselves at home—Fenrys holding a large pink box from Nesryn's bakery, but the woman wasn't in the group, she had a dinner with her fiance's family tonight.

What did surprise him was Yrene's curly head as she walked in with Chaol, the man's hand wrapped tightly on his walking stick as the couple made their way inside. Yrene was a nurse at Terrasen hospital and worked insane hours, so it was a nice surprise to see her.

Dorian and Manon walked in, the latter holding three bottles of Dorian's fathers expensive wine (which either one of them probably took without asking), her black diamond engagement ring sparkling even at night. Dorian claimed that he stole it from his father when he was a teenager and he never even noticed, apparently his father didn't bat an eye when he saw the ring on his future daughter-in-law's ring finger.

Elide and Lorcan followed Lysandra and Aedion, the dark haired man having to duck slightly to walk inside.

The only people missing, other than Nesryn and Sartaq, were Vaughn and Connall—but he knew that the last two were now working night shifts and that it would be hard to catch up with them from now on. Nehemia too, as she was currently on vacation visiting her parents.

Aedion sniffed at the air as they all made themselves comfortable in the lounge room. “Where did you guys order from? It doesn't smell too bad.” And truthfully, the food did smell good—that was something that surprised Rowan about Aelin's cooking, that while somehow everything tasted bad, it always smelled like it came from a five star restaurant.

“Aelin cooked lasagna,” he said and all eyes turned to him, “and there's plenty for everyone,” he added, before any of them could make some flimsy, bullshit excuse about how one of them should maybe order a pizza.

“What do you mean, she cooked?” Dorian asked, eyes wider than everyone else's. His tone implying that she somehow managed to create a radioactive bomb.

Rowan rolled his eyes. “I mean, she's been in the kitchen all evening preparing a dinner for all of us, so you better shut up and eat it, is what I mean when I say she's cooked.”

The timer went off for the garlic bread so Rowan went into the kitchen, but before he did, he deliberately locked the front door, making sure everyone watch him do it.

He wasn't about to let them upset Aelin just because she was a bad cook.

“Yrene, do you have, like, a food poisoning kit on you, by any chance?” Dorian asked.

Yrene snorted. “No, Dorian, you'd have to go to the hospital for that.”

“Oh, Gods,” he cried.

“Dorian,” Chaol sighed, having witnessed many moments of Dorian acting like he was minutes away from dying. “You're twenty-five now, and you're not dead. I'm certainly not, and I dated Aelin for a year.”

“Yeah, when you were eighteen and she was seventeen, I don't think she even went near an oven at that age.” Dorian and Chaol were Aelin's oldest friends, as well as Elide, so they would know.

“I can hear you, you know,” Rowan said from the open kitchen, cutting the garlic bread in equal slices.

“It's okay,” Fenrys said, smiling. “I've got cake from Nesryn's and Manon has good wine, so tonight will be salvageable.”

Rowan pointed the knife at his friend, silently telling him to shut up.

Aelin chose that moment to exit the bathroom, her towel wrapped tightly around herself. Her smile was warm as she smiled at everyone and greeted them. “I'll be done in a couple of minutes, so everyone sit at the dining table. Rowan, could you see to the serving?”

“Of course.” She quickly came over to place a kiss on his cheek and rushed for the bedroom. Everyone went to the table, Dorian acting like he was walking to the electric chair, Manon rolling her eyes at his theatrics.

The glass dish was still hot as hell, so Rowan walked over carefully, hands wrapped in giraffe oven mitts, Lorcan snorting at the sight.

“Shut up,” Rowan muttered as he placed the dish down, took the mitts off and started cutting up the lasagna. He plonked down the slices, pointedly looking at everyone as he did so (except Yrene and Chaol—the young nurse saying that she's had worse cafeteria food, quickly throwing a no offence when she realised what she said, and Chaol, like he had stated, he had Aelin's food before and was fine—joking that his spinal injury was from a freak accident rather then from Aelin's cooking).

Dorian still didn't look happy, and Fenrys was frowning at his plate. Elide poked at it with her fork, Manon inspecting it with narrowed eyes. Lorcan was stoic as always.

“I swear to the Gods I can smell cinnamon,” Lysandra said. “Rowan, did Aelin put cinnamon in this?”

Rowan shrugged and acted like he didn't know.

Sitting down, Rowan looked at his friends and said, “I know Aelin's cooking isn't the greatest—”

“She's definitely not winning any prizes in the future,” Aedion muttered but promptly shut up at the scathing glare that Rowan sent his way.

“But she's been in the kitchen all evening, as I said before, and she's really excited for you guys to try it. It may be under-cooked and dry, but you if you cannot even afford the common decency to offer her respect after making everything from scratch and act like adults instead of sulking children, then I'm going to have to ask you to leave. And Dorian, do not bring up food poisoning for the rest of the night."

Rowan got mumbled apologies, with the man feeling like a scolding father, but they all sat up straight as Aelin entered, dressed and her hair thrown into a messy bun.

They all dug in, and as expected, the lasagna sheets were under-cooked, the Béchamel sauce a little too milky and far too onion-y, the marinara sauce too salty and there was definitely a hint of cinnamon in the meat, but everyone ate it, with Lorcan claiming that it wasn't too bad—which was high praise coming from him, but then again, it could be a lie, he was fairly good at that, something Rowan knew from experience. The salad did have too much olive oil, but the dressing was nice.

Dorian, though, still looked like he was being sent to his death, but ate his food, only lightly gagging once. Aelin didn't notice, thankfully, too caught up in her conversation with her cousin about the upcoming Whitethorn family reunion that she and Rowan were expected to attend. They both had mixed feelings about it since Rowan had a large family and he couldn't stand a number of his cousins and everyone would bring up his dead parents, whose death still hurt even after ten years, as they passed away suddenly. Aelin wasn't looking forward to it, since one of his cousin's was dating his ex-girlfriend Remelle and Aelin could not stand the woman for multiple reasons.

Everyone ate everything on their plates and once the wine was emptied and the cake reduced to crumbs, everyone left, thanking Aelin and Rowan for their hospitality and everyone starting to suggest what the next night out would be as they left.

Aelin and Rowan cleaned in tandem, Aelin changing into her stag pyjamas as Rowan had a quick shower himself (which was actually a quick one) and soon joined her in bed, kissing her cheek as she settled in for the night, picking up his current read.

After long minutes, Aelin said, “I heard what you said to everyone.” Rowan's eyes snapped over to hers, finding Aelin lying on her side, a soft smile on her face. “Is my cooking really that bad?”

“Not to me,” he said truthfully. “I like your brand of cooking.”

“Even the burnt toast?”

“Especially the burnt toast.”

Aelin leaned over and kissed him on the lips, once, twice, three times. “I can't believe that Dorian still goes on about the food poisoning. I think he'll still be going on about it when he's on his death bed.”

Rowan snorted at the imagery that popped up. “He probably would.”

“I have to admit that I liked how authoritative you sounded,” Aelin said, “it turned me on more than it should have.”

Rowan ran a hand up and down her arm. “I'll have to use it more often then.”

“You will,” Aelin agreed, leaning in to kiss him again. Aelin snuggled into him, tucking her head under his jaw with Rowan wrapping his arms around her.

Rowan was on the verge of drifting off when he felt Aelin placed her chin on his chest. “Rowan?”

“Hmm?”

“Rowan, will you marry me?”

He woke up at that and found Aelin's blue and gold eyes shining brightly in the lamp light. “Pardon?” was all he could manage.

Sitting up, Aelin placed a hand over his heart, Rowan's hand covering hers instinctively. Giving him a beautiful smile, the one he fell in love with, she said clearly, “Rowan, I love you so much that I can't even put it into words how much I love you—but I do know this; you're my soulmate and I don't ever want to be away from you. I love you with everything I am. So, Rowan, will you do me the honour of becoming my husband?”

Tears filled Rowan eyes as he looked at the woman he loved with everything he had. “Of course, I will.”

Crying happily, Aelin launched herself at him, kissing him wildly, wrapping her arms around him. Until she suddenly pulled away and almost fell off the bed in her haste to reach for the velvet box she had hidden in the bottom draw of her nightstand.

Inside it was a gold ring, inlaid with a brilliant ruby and engraved in the band were the words 'to whatever end', their promise to each other.

The ring fitted him perfectly and Rowan sat up, capturing her face in his warm hands as he kissed her, their tears falling.

Pulling back, Rowan gave her a smile and went to his own nightstand and showed Aelin the velvet box he had hidden away. Aelin gasped in delight at the sight of it, a wide blooming on her face as he opened it and saw his mother's gold and emerald ring.

Also engraved in it were the words 'to whatever end'.

Aelin was sure she was going to die from pure happiness.

“Aelin, I love you more than anything. I'm so glad I met you in that dingy gym all those years ago. And I don't ever want to be away from you, too. Will you do me the honour of being my wife?”

“Yes, of course, yes,” she said, crashing into him again. Rowan's fingers shook as he placed the ring on her finger. “Thank you for loving me and all my bad cooking.”

Rowan laughed heartily and kissed her soundly. “Thank you for loving me and all my sucking at bowling.”

“You really are bad at it,” she said, laughing.

“I know,” he agreed, kissing her.

This was better than any idea he originally thought of when he started thinking of ways to propose. And it was perfectly Aelin that she proposed first, considering that she was the one that asked him out first all those years ago, to say 'I love you' and to ask to find a house and be Adults together with a mortgage and everything it entailed.

And in the morning, after a rare sleep in, she called her parents and told them the news, Evalin barely able to get any words out as Aelin told them how it happened, even Rhoe, who was a bit of a stoic man, teared up at the story.

They went to their favourite cafe afterwards, getting a slice of chocolate cake on the house as Aelin told their regular waitress their news.

They went to the local garden, after visiting his parents grave, with Aelin snapping a picture of their jewelled hands, the sun making their rings sparkle in a brilliant glow and posted it on her Instagram with a simple caption stating, 'We both said yes'.

Rowan posted the same photo, the first he had in months, since he didn't post often, and he much preferred the streams of congratulations that came their way, their phones soon blowing up with calls after calls.

And as the the sun shone brighter on the beautiful day, Aelin let loose a snorting laugh that had her choking when Dorian pleaded, “Please don't bake your wedding cake. I really don't want to be sick on your special day, I'll feel like an arsehole.”

Rowan promised that she wouldn't and laced his fingers in his fiance's hands as they went to his car towards their home, deciding that last night was the best group hang that they ever had.

[sleepywinchester]

Fool For You Pt. 8

Summary:  You are back in your hometown Freeridge to take care of your sister Jasmine and your father after being away for six years. You left Freeridge looking for a better life but in that process you had to let go of someone you loved. But you’re back and things are not the same but they sure feel like it.

Words: 2K+

Warnings: N/A

A/N: Hola!!!! Hope everyone is safe at home! This continues the story as a some sort of a series re-write. It won’t be something of all the episodes but the main ones of where Spooky appears. Hope you guys like this and always feel free to leave some feedback is so appreciated it.

This was supposed to be posted for Valentine's day but life happens and I ended up finishing this chapter 3 months later... lol

| MESSAGE BOX | HAPPY READING!!!

(english is not my first language, might be some typos around)

Title:  Happy Valentine's Day

Chapters: Uno - Dos - Tres - Cuatro - Cinco - Seis - Siete

Six years have passed since you spent Valentine's day with Oscar. The memories of the last one brought a lot of good and mischief feelings to your soul. He had just inherited his father's beautiful red car. Memories of the week prior to the festivities, all he talked about him taking you for a day trip to Santa Monica. A chuckle filled the space as you remembered when you both got caught having a making out section by the beach.

“What are you giggling about mamas?” Oscar’s deep voice brought you back to the present.

You turned around standing in the middle of the bathroom doorway, seeing him sitting by the edge of the bed. He was wearing a black tank and his khaki dickies. Leaning against the door frame with your electric pink toothbrush on hand you gazed at him and took the brush out to speak.

“I was reminiscing about our last Valentine's day together…” you smirked before placing the tooth brush inside your mouth.

Oscar instantly chuckled, “Santa Monica wasn’t ready for those dos traviesos teenagers.”

You took the brush out, turning back to spit out the toothpaste foam and have some water. “Those?” You said leaving the toothbrush on the counter and walked back to the room and stood in front of Oscar. He looked up, his hazel eyes piercing yours. “Baby we are still dos traviesos,” you said before kissing him.

He followed your lead within seconds, letting his body fall back on the bed. You continued kissing his hips as his hands traveled your body. “You got time?” Your eyes were looking at his as your hands were on his belt.

“Para ti? All the fucking time,” he smirked and then continued kissing him.

The morning activities had woken up a hunger for both of you. Oscar was speaking with some homies on the phone as you cooked scrambled eggs with bacon. They had some runs to make but deeply you hoped those didn’t take long. Out of nowhere the thought of Caesar crossed your mind and that you never heard him come home last night.

“Hey, have you seen-,”

Your words were cut by Caesar himself busting inside the house yelling.

“Hey! Hey! There’s a dude posted up outside!’

In a matter of seconds Oscar stood from the chair, grabbed the gun from on top of the counter and stormed outside. Your heart began to bump so fast, scared for both of them.

Quickly you grabbed the phone and began dialing Sad Eyes as you peeped from the window and instantly recognized who that man was.

“Oh shit,” you said, putting the phone down. Mr. Diaz has been in jail for almost a decade. You haven’t seen him since middle school when he got locked up. Oscar aura changed completely at the sight of his father. When he turned his body, you saw it on his eyes, he wasn’t happy his father was back. Mr. Diaz grabbed his duffel bag from the floor and crossed the street making his way towards the house.

“Babe?” You called him as he walked in. “When - How?”

Oscar shook his head groaning, “I have no fucking clue.”

You stood by the kitchen watching Mr. Diaz cautiously walk inside the house. His eyes roamed every inch of the space but when he spotted you, his eyes disappeared because of the big smile he gave you.

“Y/N,” he said.

You smiled back, “Hey Mr. Diaz…”

“I can see you two still together… Good.” He said looking at Oscar and you.

You smile awkwardly, “Yeah…”

Mr. Diaz picked up the awkwardness of the moment but decided to ignore it by walking around the kitchen and living room area. He admired the house as if it was an old museum.

You decided to walk around the living room and sit next to Oscar who was already sitting on the sofa with Caesar. You were right in the middle of the two brothers.

“So when did you get out?” Caesar asked, his voice had the tone of a 3 year old excited kid.

“Yesterday,” Mr. Diaz replied, still contemplating the house, “Looks kind of the same…” he said looking around, “doesn’t smell the same tho.”

You smiled proudly at his comment, “That would be my doing.“

“You live here?” He asked you.

Your eyes felt Oscar staring, it was obvious how he felt about his father being out of prison. He didn’t want him here but looking at his father, you really didn’t think he cared what Oscar thought or not. “Yeah.” You looked at your boyfriend. “I’ve added a couple things,” your sight went back to Mr. Diaz, “you know a bit of a female touch.”

“That’s good,”’he sat down across from the sofa. Mr. Diaz's eyes were locked on Oscar before switching them to his younger son. “You in school?” His Mexican accent was heavy and distinguished.

“Of course he is,” Oscar replied for his younger brother.

He looked at his older son, “How about you? Going to college?”

You saw Oscar raise an eyebrow, not believing the question he just got asked.

“Seriously?” Oscar said with unbelief.

“It's nice to see you,” Caesar told his dad, who just answered with a nod as he took a drag off his cigarette. “Do you have plans?”

“No,” he said, “just wanted to see you guys before I go to Bakersfield. Got a job lined up.”

“Caesar, you need to get to school,” Oscar said with his tone firm. You watched Caesar trying to give his older puppy eyes to let him stay but they didn’t work on him. Instead he rolled his eyes and grabbed his bag.

He was about to leave when he turned around. Caesar's body shook as he tried to figure out how to talk to his father. “Hey... Do you maybe I don’t know… wanna hang? After school?”

“Sure,” Mr. Diaz replied without much emotion.

Not being facial expressive in this family, the male Diaz didn’t show much emotion or even spoke much for that matter. You watched how Caesar smiled happily, for years Oscar was the only father figure to him. Meanwhile Oscar never really had a father figure.

“So where are you staying?” Oscar asked his father once his brother was out of the house.

He looked at his son replying before taking another dragg. “Here.”

In that moment Oscar stood up from the couch, you could feel how pissed off he was. You watched him walk towards the bedroom, leaving you alone with Mr. Diaz.

“He hates me,” he said with his voice low.

Another thing he had in common with his son was that his eyes spoke a thousand words.

You didn’t know how to speak to him or what to say, last time you saw this man was in 9th grade. “He-,” you cleared your throat, “I don’t know if he hates you or not… it's been years and honestly we haven’t talked about you in the past months.”

“Months?” he arched an eyebrow confused, “you two were inseparable when kids thought you were together all these years.”

“Not really,” you said standing up, “we broke up well-,” you shrugged, “I broke up with him when we graduated high school, I moved away for a couple years but I came back a couple months ago and now we are together again.”

Mr. Diaz nodded his head, “At least you found each other again.”

“Si…” you said getting distracted by a loud crash coming from the bedrooms, “Tengo que ir donde él… Hablamos más luego.”

The noise of bangs and things breaking became louder the more you reached the room. Once in front of the closed door, you took a big deep breath preparing yourself to see a very pissed off Oscar. Before you opened the door, the loud noises suddenly stopped. The first thing you noticed when you opened the door was all the broken glass on the floor. Your eyes scanned around the messy room until they met Oscar once again sitting by the edge of the bed in silence. Instantly you noticed the blood on his hands and had a small panic attack.

“Oscar!” You shouted quickly running into the bathroom for the first aid kit. This was one of the first things you bought when you moved in with him. You know that sooner or later you would need it and you weren’t wrong. Going back to him you knelt down between his legs, his eyes were stuck on the floor, filled with rage.

“Talk to me,” you looked into his eyes that were filled with suppressed tears. “Oscar… hablame.”

He hissed when you poured antiseptic over his cut, “Crap.”

“Exactly,” you glared at him, “Why were you breaking all this crap!?” Oscar rolled his eyes. “I saw that,” you told him as you continued to cover his cut.

“He hasn’t called or written for years and now he just comes back as if nothing ever happened?!” Oscar let out what was bothering him. “I-,” he clenched his jaw, “I hate him.”

“Don’t say that,” you looked into his eyes. “He- he wasn’t the best father but es tu papa.”

“I hate him, Y/N…” Oscar's eyes were full of rage.

You sighed, finishing up putting on the bandage and standing up. Today wasn’t supposed to be full of troubles from the past. It was supposed to be a chill day with your boyfriend. You were hoping to go on a date and have a normal Valentines day and you weren’t going to have less. Oscar and you needed an escape from the real world. “Let’s get out of here,” you told him.

He looked at you confused, “Que?”

“Let’s get out of here,” you said again, “is Valentine’s day for fucks sake. I am not letting your father’s return ruin this day.”

You could see how the rage in his eyes slowly burned out at the same time a small smirk formed on the corner of his lips. He sighed looking away for a second before standing up and holding you close.

“Tienes razon,” he said, “let’s get out of here.”

Both changed into new clothes and made an overnight bag. There weren’t plans made for today but you and Oscar were big fans of spontaneity. Something would come up and honestly being away from home sounded like a great idea at this moment. Oscar texted his brother letting him know he was going to be out for a day. You chuckled when he out-loud said “don’t do anything stupid” as he typed.

“You know that’s practically impossible,” you told him. The breeze of the coast made your hair fly with the air as your extremely hot man drove. “Those chamacos go from one stupid thing to another,” you continued, “we weren’t like that.”

“We were too busy having sex,” Oscar said, “in this car.”

You chuckled quickly looking at the backseat and reminiscing, “Ah, the old days but I’m pretty sure Caesar and Monse are doing something.”

Oscar’s face instantly looked so disgusted, “I don’t want to talk about this.”

You chuckled, “Es la verdad.”

“They broke up,” Oscar said.

“How many times did we break up cuando eramos chamacos?”

“Too many fucking times,” he let out.

Once again you chuckled, “And we always ended up back together… Those two are the fucking same.”

He smirked, deep down he was happy his little brother had someone. His eyes found yours again, “Where are we going?”

“There is this small inn by Santa Monica. The reviews said it is the perfect couples getaway.” You finished the sentence with a flirtatious wink. “We can be more traviesos.”

“I hope Caesar doesn’t get in any trouble while we’re down here,” he let out.

You caressed the back of Oscar's neck, smiling when he let his shoulders relax at your touch. “Everything is going to be fine,” you told him. “My sister is hanging out with them and if anything happens, we will be the first to know. Now can you just give me your all devoted attention and don’t think about your brother and his crazy friends…” You kissed his lips.

Oscar looked at your eyes for a second before turning his focus back to the road. For the rest of the hour you tried your best to take Oscar's mind off his father and his brother.

/ / /

“This is fucking nice,” Oscar let out putting his duffel bag on top of the white bed.

You chuckled, “Look at the view.”

He stood by you on the window holding you by the waist and taking in the beautiful sight of the beach. “Thank you,” he whispered in your ear.

“For what?” you smiled.

“You make everything better,” he said, “if it wasn’t for you this day would have fucking sucked but you… you made it better.”

It was a rare thing for him to be so spoken of his feelings but God how much you loved it when these unusual moments happened. Without hesitating you kissed his lips.

“I got an idea,” he stopped kissing you. “We need to get ready.”

You certainly loved surprises and even more when coming from him. For tonight you decided to wear a white dress with high heel sandals. You wore your hair natural just like your make up only adding a bright red lipstick.

“Wow,” you let out when you saw Oscar walking out of the bathroom. He was wearing a white button long sleeve shirt and khaki pants with his converse. You smiled taking in how handsome he looked. “You look hot.”

He smiled for you, “Tu tambien mamas’,” he walked around you, “I’m so lucky.”

You got closer to him, “Yes you are,” kissing him.

He held your hand as you two walked through the streets of Santa Monica. The fresh air coming from the ocean was salty and so pleasant. You followed Oscar lead down the streets until you two got to a small restaurant by the beach.

“Una mesa para dos,” Oscar spoke to the hostess.

She smiled and showed you two the way to a small table outside. The sounds of the waves in the background played better than any song. There was a small candle on the table, lighting bright enough to see Oscar’s eyes on you. Moments like this when there could be a million people around and his eyes were always on you. These were the moments you felt like the only woman in this world.

“This is nice,” you told him, “unusual for us but nice.”

“Our usual dates involve shrimp tacos and watching movies at home,” he said reading the menu.

“I love those dates too,” you said.

Instantly he looked up from the menu and winked giving you a small smirk. “But sadly those are postponed until nuevo aviso because my father decided to just come home after a fucking decade.”

You sighed, “Oscar can we just forget about your dad for one night?”

“You’re right,” he sighed, “Perdon.”

“He told me he thinks you hate him,” you couldn’t help but ignore your own words and talk about his father. Instantly he shot a ‘are you serious?’ glare at you. Innocently you shrugged, “Sorry pero you started.”

“I do hate him,” he said with no remorse.

“Why?”

Oscar put the menu to the side, leaning backwards and crossing his arms onto his chest. “I wrote letters to him,” he began to say. You could feel the sadness in his tone, “for years I wrote and called… You know what I got in return? Nothing.” He placed both of his elbows on the table, holding his hands onto a tight fist. You placed your hand on top of his, “When he left I was a kid but I had to grow up and be a father for my little brother without knowing what a father was. Maybe if he had kept contact or replied to my letter maybe I wouldn’t have turned out so fucked up but he didn’t and here I am… A fucking mess.”

“Hey,” you hold his chin up, “we’re all a fucking mess but it’s just life, you did the best you could and Caesar has turned out good.”

Oscar clenched his jaw, “I guess… I only had one normal while growing up though.”

“What?” You were curious about what his answer would be.

His eyes disappeared into a thin line as his smile grew bigger, “You.”

You giggled with happiness, “Baby I ain’t that normal.”

“You are,” he holds your hand softly caressing it, “I love you.”

You leaned forward kissing his perfect lips and whispering, “I love you too.”

tags are open: just comment or send me a message ;)

@flamingweasley @dolanackles @lcandothisallday @mmelissarenee @donnaintx @blckgrl-sunflower @jayankles oscar

[p---ink]

White.

Author’s Note: First Chris Oneshot. It was supposed to be a blurb/drabble, but I think its a bit too long for that now. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this filth. Also you ever get that feeling, where you feel like you've came up with an idea in your head originally, but also feel like you may have seen it somewhere else? Yea that's how I feel about this piece. So if you've read something similar to this, please link it and let me know so I can edit or delete this post altogether.

Summary: Chris greets you after a long day at work, with some TLC.

Word Count: 2.9k.

Warning: Fluff and Smut. Oral (female receiving), fingering, Semi-mean Daddy Chris, over-stimulation, multiple orgasms, and I think...maybe that’s it? Please let me know if I forgot something.

Disclaimer: Gif is not mine. 

“The kids are asleep?” You whispered, when he held his finger to his lips upon your arrival. 

“Yea, I just laid Ezra down. That is one rowdy little person.” He said chuckling, leaning down to plant a kiss on your mouth. He held you by your waist to pepper more along your face. 

“Chris baby, you are a God-send.” You sighed, leaning in to his touch. “You will not believe the shitty day I had.”

“Hold that thought and take a seat, doll” he ordered, urging you towards the living room by your shoulders. “I’ll be right back.” He promised. 

You sighed as you threw your work bag down on the love chair beside you, kicking your shoes off in the process.  When you crossed the room to drop down on the sofa, the weight of today’s events crushed you instantaneously, as you waited for your husband to return. 

You’ve been married for six years, and he’s been good to you for all of them. Great even. He always listened, and almost never complained. How could he when he was usually away, due to his job? 

He was forever busy with filming, press tours and whatnot. It made him feel guilty to leave you and your sons so often. So any time he was at home for a break, he took full advantage. He spent time with his boys, and then the rest with you, spoiling you all with his love. 

Preoccupied with your stress, you almost failed to notice Chris taking a seat in front of you. He took hold of one of your legs, and that’s when you noticed your spa-kit placed next to him. 

“Baby, you don’t have to do this.” You cried, scrunching your face in relief when he rubbed your calf in just the right spot.

Chris flashed those pretty baby blues at you, along with that signature smug smirk. “You know I do. And you know I want to.” He said, before dousing his hands with oil. 

As he firmly massaged the coconut into your skin, you couldn’t help but marvel at him. Taking a pillow into your arms to hug, and hide your giddy smile, you reply with, “What I did I do to deserve you?”

“Well I would tell you, but I don’t have enough time, because you’ve got to tell me about what’s got my girl so upset.” He informed you with a stern look that read who do I have to kill? “Before you do that,” he started, placing your newly moisturized leg down before grabbing the other, “Choose a color.” 

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, peering over to take a look into the open basket. It had an assorted amount of different nail polishes and products for nail care. Your favorite color currently decorated the bottom of the basket, and it made you recall the time your oldest son Jeremy spilled its contents over while playing a game of “paint” about a week ago. That boy. You thought, shaking your head playfully. Well I guess I won’t be choosing that one. 

After a moment of close examination, and scrutiny, you chose “White”, which made Chris immediately stop his measures against your legs, to peer up at you through hooded lids. 

“So its one of those days, huh.” He smirked. “I was hoping you’d pick that one.”

“What do you mean by that?” You questioned. You hadn’t known he preferred certain colors on you. 

“I’ll tell you later, but first tell me about your day baby.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. You were dying to get it all off your chest.  You spilled out your hearts content, as your husband massaged your legs, then your feet, and in between your toes. As he delicately removed the old paint from your last session, and proceeded to paint your feet, you were almost finished relaying the message. 

“…and its just like they treat me like I’m insane! But you know what? The way i’m always overlooked, and ignored, makes me feel like I am going insane. Every time I suggest an idea, its stupid. But let some asshat say the exact same thing, and they praise him like a god.” You complain, rolling your eyes, at your memories from your work day. 

Chris offered you the occasional nod or two, humming softly at your cries of frustration when needed. And as much as he wanted to offer his two cents on the matter, he knew that what you wanted most was to be heard. You just wanted to be listened to. And while you wouldn’t of minded him beating their asses, he knew you needed his tenderness. His love. His care. And so that’s what he gave you. 

“And you know why they do it right? It’s because I’m a woman! A black one at that. Lord Jesus, it pisses me off so much.” You sigh, finally bringing your eyes down to him, after they had been trained on the air and nothingness around you; you had a habit of re-living stories as you told them. “But honey, this has really helped out a lot.” You say, cupping his chin lovingly. 

“You know I’ll do anything for you doll. And fuck those sons of bitches. They’re idiots if they can’t see how amazing you are. If you quit, like I suggested a while ago, that’ll really show ‘em.” Chris exclaimed, applying a second coat of white.

“Now you know I love what I do. I just wish I was more appreciated is all!” 

He gave you a sympathetic look before saying, “well you know me and the boys appreciate you.”, running his fingers along the ridges of your toes to remove the misapplied dye on your skin. 

“I know you do baby. I mean look at what you’re doing for me now.” You said, gesturing towards the care he took with your feet. 

Chris just smiled in response. He only felt slightly defeated when you rejected his idea to stay at home. You told him many stories about the jerks you worked with. You were among one of the only women at your company, and you paid for that fact daily. You told him, how they would talk to you, and treat you, even though you had the same amount, if not more experience as they did. He didn’t want you to have to put up with that. He wanted you to kick your feet up and enjoy the life he would provide for you and the kids you both created. But, like the supportive husband he was, he honored your wishes to pursue your passions. He knew that was what made you happier at the moment. The time would come, where he could spoil you completely, though. 

“Speaking of this,” You started, motioning towards your feet once more. “What’d you mean when you said “So it’s one of those days, huh”” You asked, putting on your best impression of him. 

Chris put on a smile that could light up a room, as a deep throaty chuckle erupted from his chest, and vibrated through your body via your feet. “Is that what you think I sound like? No matter, I’ll tell you what I meant. I can predict exactly what it is you need, and how you feel, based on the nail polish color you choose.” He said confidently, picking up a clear polish to apply the final coat.

“Is that right?” You ask, failing to take him seriously, even when he flashed that cocky grin and brow twitch that he often used to back his claims. “You’re so full of shit.”

“Seriously. I can. Listen.” He informed you, opening the clear polish, and brushing the access paint along the insides of the bottle. “I can prove it.”

“Fine! Go ahead.” You state, becoming intrigued.

Delicately holding your left foot against his knee, he starts explaining his theory while applying polish. “You see, when you choose a pale blue or orange, I know you just wanna forget about things with a movie or a cuddle session. Forest green or black, when you feel like throwing a couple of shots back with your girls at a bar. Mauve and a nude of any kind are your favorites, and you request them when you need to feel in control, classy, or sophisticated. And you always choose a soft pink, or yellow, when you need a happy reminder, or a burst of energy and inspiration. Lavender, is a color I wish you’d choose more, since it represents your happiness. Gray, is a color I wish you’d choose less, since it means you’re sad. And then there’s plum purple and candy apple red, two colors I can’t get enough of. You want those, when you’re feeling sexy. See, baby I can read you like an open book.” He declared, moving on to your second foot. Feeling quite sure of himself. 

You just stared at him in awe. Then you realized he didn’t mention, the one he just spent  ten minutes applying. “You forgot about white.”

“Oh I didn’t forget angel.” He corrected, smirking as he finally finished painting both feet. “I’m just waiting on your toes to dry.” After he says this, he begins to sensually blow cool air on your toes. 

“Chris! Tell me what it means!” You pout playfully, growing fed up with his secrecy. Also tickled from the air he blew. 

“Fine. But be quiet, you don’t wanna wake those little demons.” He warned, fixing you with a stern look that made you erupt into quiet giggles. He always made you laugh with his juxtaposed funny-seriousness. He was seriously funny. “White is my absolute favorite. You wanna know why? Its simple, and doesn’t drown out your pretty personality. It goes with every outfit, purse, and hairstyle. You wear this color, when you’re frustrated. Exasperated. Annoyed. You choose white, when you need me to wrap those pretty little legs around my neck, so I can make you cum till kingdom come. Or until you see, ‘white’. Whichever comes first”. He finished, staring at you seriously all of the sudden. A thick silence had befallen the two of you, and you almost didn’t know how to escape it. 

After a moment, you break out into a smile, despite Chris’ unmoving features. “Are you sure that’s what I want? Or is it something you want?”

“It’s what you need.” He affirmed, finally matching your expression, only his smile held a lot more lust than yours. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I’ll tell you something alright, Chris. I think you paint my nails entirely too much.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, moving to pack up the spa kit, before saying “So in other words I’m right.” He rises to his feet, peering down through his long lashes with a knowing grin, before turning to leave the room. But not without saying, “Don’t worry baby, I’ll give you what you need.” Leaving you an anxious mess.

You start squirming in your seat, waiting with anticipation for him to return. You try to sit in your sexiest pose, but it makes you feel awkward. Then you start to wonder if you should remove your underwear. But you know he likes doing that. You even wonder if you smell okay, after such a long day at work. A million thoughts race through your mind, and you barely register his presence when reenters the room. You slightly jump, when you feel his warm hands brush against the nape of your neck.

“Shit baby.” Chris laughs, as he rounds the couch. “I knew it was bad, but I didn’t realize how bad. Let daddy, handle this for you.” He says kneeling back in front of you, knees tucked firmly under his person. He smoothes his hands over the expanse of your soft supple skin, leaving a burning trail of desire in his wake. When he hooks his fingers underneath the waistband of your panties, your breath hitches as the cool air hits your moistened sex. 

You lift your thighs and legs, so he can carefully remove the lace without ruining his handwork on your feet. When Chris surveys your dampened panties and inhales their scent, his grin grows wider. “You’re already this wet for me?” 

He gives you no time to answer as he’s pulling you closer to his face, by your thighs. The sudden movement caused a whimper to escape your throat, soft sound making his cock harden. He’s working his kisses up against your thighs with a quickness, ready to produce more sounds like the last. 

Your head’s position on the couch has you feeling a bit awkward, and you go to say  “This is uncom—” but cut yourself off with a moan, as he dives his thick tongue between your petals, writing love notes against the skin.

“What’s that, doll?” Chris asks, hot breath dangerously close to your bud.

You just mewl in response, wetting his beard with your juices, as he eats you like you’re his last meal. “Right there baby.” You groan, grinding yourself against his mouth when his tongue darts against your nub. 

“Right here?” He questions softly, repeating the same gestures, sending a jolt through your body that makes you buck against his face. 

Your words leave your throat, as he sucks harshly against the problem areas, shocks of pleasure emitting through your person. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, he adds his fingers. First two, but then three as he starts fucking your pussy. 

“D-daddy!” You cry, voice coming out shaky as you writhe against his lips and fingers. His actions have you climbing up the couch. 

Then he removes his lips, warning you to keep quiet. “My babies are upstairs, I’m gonna need you to keep your pretty mouth shut.” He commands, placing your soaked panties between your lips. 

As he quickens the pace of his fingers, and makes his tongue dart from left to right relentlessly against your clit, you approach your first orgasm of the night, and he knows it too, when your hole clenches around his fingers. 

He smiles, and tells you how proud of you he is, but he isn’t done with you yet. 

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Your muffled moans ring through your ears, as you clamp your teeth down around your underwear. Your jaw was becoming slack from keeping it open so long, and you were feeling sore.

Chris was still continuing his assault against your sex. He had long moved from his position on the floor, and now sat beside you on the couch. 

He had your legs sprawled open, keeping them from closing with one hand gripped on your thigh, and the other rubbed fast and hard circles against your clit, while he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

“What number was that one, baby? Five, six? I lost count after the third time, when you squirted on daddy’s chest.” He growled, biting his lip, as he quickened his pace against your nub. “Do you think you can do that again?”

You moaned in protest, shaking your head from left to right, as you approached another orgasm. You couldn’t take anymore pleasure, your sensitive bud was going through too much.

“What’s that baby? I can’t hear you.” He teased, face as serious as it could be. He was testing you. You knew not to remove the underwear, or you’d be there all night. When you made no moves to pull them out, he did it for you, a string of spit connecting your lips to the fabric.

You immediately pleaded with him to ease up. “Daddy I don’t think I-I can take an-nymore.” You cried, now a blubbering mess.

“You don’t think you can take anymore?” Chris repeated, mocking you. “Well that’s too bad. Daddy thinks his princess looks too pretty when she’s cumming. So suck it up, because I’m not stopping until we have to replace this couch.”

You  felt that familiar coil in your stomach again, threatening to snap, as you threw your head back. You were a sweating mess now. You had hair glued to your face, and neck, and your shirt was drenched, as it clung to your stomach. But still, it wasn’t quite as drenched as your pussy, thighs, and couch cushions were. 

Chris was as hard as a rock, but you knew if you touched him, he’d get angry. He wanted to play with you, until you were begging him to stop.

“What happened today at work again baby? What was it Chad said to you? I bet if I have you fucked out like this every night, I’d be the only man on your mind.” He whispered against your ear.

Your stomach began spasming, as you clenched painfully around nothing. This would be your last one too, before your body gave up. 

Tears streamed down your cheek, as you contorted your face into the sexiest expression Chris had ever seen. And then, just before your screams of pleasure could rip through your chest, he covered his mouth over yours, as you squirted all over his hands, your thighs, and stomach. When you finally opened your eyes, you could only see white, before your vision came back into focus.

Massaging the wet, between your folds, Chris bought his fingers up to your lips and said “open.” And you did, sucking all your juices from his digits without breaking eye contact. “Attagirl.” He praised, wiping your tears away. Feel better now?” He asked, small smirk playing on his lips.

You nod tiredly, throat dry from your previous activities.

He brushes your sweaty hair behind your ears before saying, “Good. Now, let’s paint those pretty pink walls white, too.” 

[taeescript]

II. Script of the Angel

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 >> This is the story of three very different people. A successful novelist, a blossoming artist and a dedicated cop. They seem to have nothing in common. Yet, they are continually drawn to each other. It is as if their fates have been intertwined. Written. That they must meet.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> ft. jungkook and jimin primarily.

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 >> policeman!jimin, author!jungkook, painter!reader, serialkiller!XXX; a classic game of cat and mouse

𝔴/𝔠 >> 6.6k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> mature themes depicted. due to the explicit nature of the topic (serial killers, murders, violence, sexual content, infidelity etc.) scenes are graphic. this is rated 18+. to spare storytelling: please consider yourself warned.

𝔞/𝔫 >> i’m so glad to see people enjoyed the last part! this part is a little shorter but i hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless. will likely be making a masterlist post for this soon as i’m having too much fun writing this and it’s getting long. feedback and comments always appreciated. as always, enjoy! (: 

previous part || masterlist || next part

Muscles and bones. The primary architecture of the human body. It allows us to stand and walk; sit and run; jump and spin. But what really keeps us alive? Blood. It carries the nutrients our body needs. It carries the defenders our body requires. So integral to our survival, blood can tell a story of its own. Looking at the direction of travel along with the width and length of the spatter, a single droplet is its own author, spinning a tale of its origin and its birth. A good spatter gives us more information than just a large overlapping pool. “Come again?” Jimin says in disbelief. Taehyung shrugs. He is the unit’s spatter analyst. In one latex covered hand, he holds a cotton swab and the other is pinching his nose. “There are traces of blood everywhere,” he repeats. “Yet I don’t see a single stain of red anywhere,” Jimin rubs his temples, “Are you telling me that the killer had enough time to wipe the whole room clean?” “I’m only telling you what science has told me,” Taehyung says. He carefully dances around another coworker to reach his open kit. It shuts with a loud snap and the younger turns back to look at his commanding officer. “Can I please get back to the lab? This smell is killing me.” Jimin can only wave half-heartedly at him before turning his attention to the scene in front of him. It is eight in the morning. They had received an anonymous call about fifteen minutes ago describing a horrific murder. The station had forwarded the call to him and after hearing the detailed account, he left the station with his team. “Fuck me. What in the world happened here?” a new voice enters the scene. It is too much even for him to handle this early in the morning. Jimin utters a “you tell me”, then excuses himself from the room. He pushes past the crowding officers and curious residents until he reaches the front of the hotel. There, his stomach dislodges everything it can. Even as he wipes his mouth, the black spots do not cease dancing in front of his eyes. Deeper in his vision, the picture is all too clear. She hangs from the ceiling with her arms stretched wide. Her feet are wrapped together in rope and her body is naked. Attached behind are two massive wings. The feathers have been stitched carefully together to create an impressive wingspan and if they were not speared into her back, Jimin may have thought they were beautiful. Yet there they were, dug into her shoulder blades, ripping into her muscle and tissue. That was not the centerpiece of it all. Missing from the body were all its abdominal organs. They had been ripped out, cut out… forensics would tell him how they were taken out, but they were gone. Replaced inside her was a large bouquet of red roses. They glistened in the sunlight and when the team had arrived, there were still dew drops on its velvety petals. The grotesque memory causes his body to expel its contents again. “Boss,” the voice from before returns, “You alright?” Jimin turns to face his partner. Namjoon stands in front of him, a worried expression which contorts his face. Namjoon is one of his only friends at the work force, being the only one similar in age. The other agents were all much older than him so with common interests, the two were naturally drawn to each other. Jimin liked Namjoon well enough. He was smart and quick on his feet. More than once, Jimin had reached out to Namjoon for advice, whether it be for work or personal life. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah, I wasn’t prepared to see that this early in the morning,” Jimin says. Namjoon nodded. He too has dark circles under his eyes and his lips were hardened into a thin, straight line. “Makes you imagine what a sick motherfucker could create this,” he comments. They stand in silence for a quick second until Namjoon speaks again, “What do you think we should do?” Jimin resumes his commanding role. “Take down the body. Have somebody sweep it thoroughly. Send a couple of the lab geeks in to scan the room. I want everything put into evidence, even if it’s a speck of dust. Everybody leaves something behind, and we will find it.” “What about the civilians? We’ve got a growing, curious crowd spreading like cancer.” “You’re Lieutenant. Do something about it,” Jimin light-heartedly teases Namjoon in his new role. Namjoon slightly flinches at the address. Although Namjoon had been promoted to a position higher than Jimin’s, Namjoon only ever treated him in the way they had always been working together: as partners. “Fuck me,” Namjoon curses with his favourite two words. Jimin grins. “Maybe later. I’ve got a shit ton of paperwork to get started back at the station. I’ll see you,” he pats his distracted friend’s shoulder. Taking a last scan of the building, Jimin strides towards his parked car. He is ready to hunt down the person who dared mess around in his town.

...

Jungkook watches the scene before him with mild interest. His ears pick up the voice of an officer that is instructing the crowd that everything is under control; to return to what they are doing without a worry. “What’s going on?” the housewife asks beside him. She is still in you pajamas and had seemed to wander out due to the hubbub. He smiles at her. “Murder.” She regards him with wide eyes. Her feet stumble backwards and she scurries away. The officer had finished his speech and the crowd was now dissipating. Jungkook took it as his cue to exit as well. As he walks out of the hotel, he feels vaguely irritated. At the end, his script is not perfectly carried out. He had needed to modify it slightly although the end result is what he had planned it to be. Even the timing of the police’s arrival after his call had been as he predicted. The world was too easy for him to guess. Now, it is time to return to Krystal. Even without using his vast knowledge of facial cues and body expressions, he knows exactly how she would react. Nostrils dilated, lower lid tensed, brows lowered and lower jaw jutting out. He reads her like a book and its title screamed “anger”. “Where were you all last night?” she questions, hands placed on her hips. He sighs while placing his jacket on the hanger at the entranceway. His feet ache as they pad across the tiles towards the bedroom. “I was out doing research. I told you yesterday,” he says. She bites her lip. When he walked past her, she could smell a faint hint of perfume mixed with a lemony clean scent like soap. Her jaws clench tighter. “Yes. But you had said you would be out late. You never said you’d be gone the entire night!” she follows him closely behind. He does not turn or wait for her. Once inside the bedroom, he throws off his shirt and pants, trudging to the showers. “Don’t you think you could have given me a call at least?” she asks. His figure is a faint silhouette through the shower curtain. She can see him scrubbing his face. She waits for him until the water is shut down and he steps out of the box. Water drips from his hair and his skin is still a flush pink from the heat. The room fills with steam and he brushes past her on the way out. Still, she relentlessly follows him. “Jeon Jungkook!” she calls out, “Say something!” He pulls out a new pair of boxers from the drawer and put them on. Once they snap against his waist, he turns to finally look at her. “I’m tired, and you’re annoying me. We’ll talk when I wake up,” he says. Tears sting her eyes but she cannot allow him to see any type of weakness. She whirls around on her heels and stalk out of the room, leaving him to himself. The door slams shut loudly behind her and makes his ears slightly ring. The sheets are cold and inviting on his body. The wrap around him like a silky cocoon and his eyes are heavy the instance he hits the pillow. There is only one last thing to do before he can allow his body to rest. With delicate fingers, he pries off the paper-thin gloves from his hands. They slide off smoothly and if there was an onlooker in the room at that moment, they would have been reminded of a snake that was shedding its skin. These are special gloves just for his hobbies. They disguise his hands so that they are void of fingertips. They are so lightweight he cannot feel them at all. They blend in with his body so perfectly, only the keenest of eyes would be able to notice the thin line above his wrist where the material ends. They are perfect for him and allow him to do what he does without a worry. He leaves the material out on the top of the drawer. He knows that Krystal would not be back in the room for a while so it is safe sitting there. They are like contact lenses, shriveling and drying up due to the exposure to air. In about fifteen minutes time, they would look like shrunken autumn leaves and be the size of a walnut. The room-keeper would find them if he had still not thrown them out, and discard them thinking they were candy wrappers. He lets his body drift into nothingness, content with the day’s work.

...

Besides having a good eye for detail, a coroner should be able to work under extremely stressful conditions. They could be asked to visit crime scenes, identify human remains or supervise the transportation of corpses. Working often behind the scenes, a coroner is an integral part to this unit. It is sad to say that we are low in numbers and are extremely interested in people joining our team! If you have taken subjects like biology, chemistry and forensics, in addition to law and humanities, we encourage you to apply to our graduate program! We would love to see you working beside us! Jimin’s eyes scan the announcement that has been placed on the door of the coroner’s office. He is scheduled for a meeting with the elder man on what may have been found and as a man of time, he is early for it. “Park! You’re here,” the coroner steps out of his office. He has patches of grey hair and a scruff of facial hair that he now scratches with his fingers. Dressed in his usual white lab coat, his black shoes peek out from beneath his pants and they lead the way towards the morgue. “How’s it going, Fernando?” Jimin greets back, “I see your wife has been feeding you well.” He eyes a popped button on the stomach of his coworker. Fernando laughs. It is loud and bounces off the white walls of the building. It is a laugh that is jolly and hearty; a strange sound to hear in the location they currently are. “Maria always has a full meal whenever I return home. I swear, she’s trying to fatten me up like the witch from Hansel and Gretel,” he chuckles. He and Maria, a linguistic analyst also working in the police force, had been married for years. They had invited nearly the whole station to their wedding and wanted to celebrate for another week before a case had dragged everyone back to work. The two turn a corner and the black door of the morgue greets their face. Fernando hands Jimin a pair of gloves and a mask before they enter the room. The body has already been laid on the table and labelled after Fernando’s inspection. “I’ve already submitted the full report. You’ll find it on your desk by tomorrow morning,” Fernando speaks with a muffled voice due to the mask. The material itches Jimin’s nose and he wrinkles it. His fingers carefully pick up the sheet that covers the body and he scans the female underneath. “You know I like to see the victims personally for each case. Do you mind giving me an overview?” he asks. The other man shrugs. This is not the first case he’s worked with Jimin. While he was not a hard man to work with, he was extremely meticulous – borderline obsessive – in details to the point that it was tiring and burdensome. “No signs of struggles. She evidently took care of her body and skin; probably went to the gym in the times between work. Besides the large opening on her abdomen, the rest of her is intact.” “What is missing from her?” “Mainly her digestive system and portions of her excretory system. Everything within her ribcage has been preserved and unmoved.” “So nothing out of the ordinary then.” “Aside from the gaping hole? No. My best guess is that she knew her attacker. Or if she didn’t, then she at least didn’t sense any danger from him.” “What makes you say that?” “I found seminal fluid in her body.” This new information made Jimin turn his attention away from the body and back to Fernando. He had finished circling the table while mentally confirming everything Fernando had been saying. “You’re suggesting our killer may have had intercourse with our victim then?” “Jane Doe, technically,” Fernando inserted, “We haven’t made an ID on her quite yet.” Jimin waved the comment away. “Maybe,” Fernando recognized Jimin’s piercing look, “I sent a sample of it to the lab geeks. It could be from the killer or it might be from when she last had sex.” Jimin knew how long these types of analyses could take. He didn’t want to wait several weeks for results so he told Fernando to put a rush on it. Fernando stood wordlessly and watched Jimin as he continued to encircle the body. Every so often, his fingers would reach out and lightly tap a part of the body. With each tick the clock on the wall made, it seemed to drive its sound into Fernando’s skull. When he could not take the silence any longer, he let out a cough. At the sound, Jimin remembers that he is not alone in the room. It happened every time he got absorbed in a case. He would become trapped in his own world and forget everything that was around him. “Sorry, Fernando. I’m going to be here a little longer. You’re free to leave. I’ll read the report tomorrow morning and if I have any more questions, I’ll find you again,” he dismisses him. Fernando bows politely and exits the room. High cheekbones, full lips and a perky nose. She was attractive enough to gain a few extra glances when she had walked down the street. Was that how she got the attention of the killer? That would make sense to why he maintained her facial features and took out her organs. Perhaps it was an interpretation of keeping her beautiful exterior shell. It could also explain why a bouquet of flowers was put inside her. Jimin shook his head. He was thinking too much. Who knew what went on in the mind of a killer? Well, besides the killer themselves. He observes her face a while longer and notices that it is not as perfectly symmetrical as he had initially thought. In fact, her right cheek bulged out in a way similar to after a person had their wisdom teeth pulled out. Bringing the overhanging light towards the mouth of the girl, he shines the light inside. There were a couple of metal tools that were placed on a tray nearby and Jimin used this to pry inside her mouth. He pushes aside the meat of her cheeks and peers at the gums. There was nothing unusual there. Something continues to urge him to look further so he turns his head slightly and checks the inner cheek. Deep at the bottom of the valley where muscle meets gums, he notices markings that stand out from the normal. He is unable to make out what they are and so he pushes away the bright light. Opting for a smaller flashlight, he drops the piercing ray of light to where he had been looking before. Four squiggles. 2-0-something-1. Or was that an I? He rotates his head further. The originally illegible third Jimin becomes an A, and the two looks more like an S at this angle. If these were letters, then the second Jimin could potentially be an “O”. The last symbol was still inconclusive as it could be either a one or “I”. Consumed with his new finding, Jimin nearly forgets to record the new information. It is not until a few seconds later that he then whips out his cellular phone and snaps a picture of it. He cannot decipher whether the symbols could be anything more than letters and numbers so he peels off his mask and throws it with the gloves into the trash bin. As he walks out of the coroner’s building and back to the main station, a feeling continues to burn in his gut. His intuition is telling him that there is something oddly familiar with what he had just saw. It wasn’t the girl or the markings themselves, but rather the position he had found them in. He felt like he had seen something like this before. He scratches his head the entire way back until he sits at his desk. That is when he remembers.

...

The light takes him by surprise from the slight crack of his curtains. Warmth from the afternoon sun hits him directly at the eyes and its rays creates a band that gives him the illusion akin to Cyclops from X-Men. He stretches and feels his muscles straining from last night’s activities. With a roll of his neck, he bounces off the bed and throws his legs onto the floor. The cold from being out of his blankets send a shiver down his spine that makes him curl his toes. Everything is strangely quiet around him. He does not hear the clatter of plates nor the running of water. There are no soft paddings from footsteps. The world is silent. He grabs a shirt from his suitcase and throws it over his head, bringing a small bit of warmth to his body. With each step around their hotel room he sees nothing. Her clothing is gone as with it her toothbrush and shoes. In fact, her entire suitcase has disappeared. With miniscule curiosity he returns back to the bedroom and unplugs his charging phone. There is one unread message and he opens it. “I know you’re tired but I don’t think that’s an excuse for your outburst this morning. Regardless, I will respect your need for personal space. I’m flying back to LA. I’ll see you when you return. – Krystal” Her words are curt and straight-forward. He reads her frustration between the words but doesn’t carry it with him. He knows she is waiting for an apology but he is too engrossed with his newfound freedom. He had not planned for the research on this trip to be completed with such speed and so his return train ride was not scheduled until the day after tomorrow. She will have to wait. He had a whole city to walk and sights to see. She will be waiting regardless. Ever so slightly he forms a smile with his lips. He walks over to the curtains and throws them open, allowing all the sunlight to enter his room. It bounces off the white sheets and covers the rug. Dust particles float around after being stirred from their slumber. With a hand pressed against the window, Jungkook peers down from the height of the hotel. He watches the automobiles that zoom beneath his gaze and traces the pathway of each person that passes by. It is a good day.

...

Fingertips graze her lips with a type of tenderness that sends small vibrations through her entire body. He holds her gaze and she peers shyly into his half-moon eyes. A smile dances on his face while she caresses his face with tremoring hands. He grabs them and holds it in his own. “You’re shaking,” he says with a light teasing tone. She wants to pull away but he holds them only stronger. He traces the lines on her palms to soothe her, but it only makes her shake all the more. “Is this real?” the question brushes your mouth much like the autumn wind rustling through leaves. It falls from your lips and floats gently to reach his ears. “Do you want this be real?” he asks you. His eyes never leave you, starting from the top of you forehead to trace to the tip of your nose and finally landing on your cherry stained lips. You faintly hear the sound of laughter in the background and the pattering of feet running but you are only consumed by the man who sits in front of you. Your nod is but a slight shift of your head. He smiles at you and cups your face in the warmth of his hands. Pressing his lips affectionately on yours, you inhale and take in everything from him. “I love you, Y/N” he confesses with all of his heart. You can feel your heart tugging towards him as he stands and offers a hand. You take it and he lightly pulls you to his feet. A rush overcomes you and suddenly, he seems taller than you remember. You look down and sees him standing a few centimeters off the ground. Your brows furrow and you peer up at him again. He has turned and is now starting to run forward. “C’mon, let’s go!” he calls back towards you. You try to move your feet but they only propel you forward while he runs upward into the vast blue sky. “Hyun!” you cry, reaching out to him. He doesn’t seem to hear you but you see laughter bursting forth from his mouth. “You’ll have to run faster or you won’t catch up!” Pressing your feet firmly on the ground, you push off but gravity brings you back down. “Hyun, I can’t! I can’t get into the sky like you!” He has now risen further than ever, growing smaller in your vision. “C’mon, Y/N! Come fast, before you can’t catch up!” his voice is faint but you hear him calling to you. You run forward faster than ever but you are never able to leave the ground. Tears spill from the corner of your eyes in frustration at the fact that you are behind him. “Hyun, don’t leave me!” you scream between your sobbing, “Baekhyun!” Your dream is shattered at the sound of metal clattering to the floor. You are jolted awake and your heart bolts at the sudden sound. The metal can which held your wet paintbrushes were now spread across the floor after falling from the table. Your friend stands at the door with an embarrassed look on her face. “Sorry,” she says, bringing a finger from her forehead towards you in apology. You feel the rise in your heart rate. You conceal it by slowly getting up out of you seat and rolling you head to get rid of the kink. Together, both you and Min clean up the mess off the floor from where she had knocked over the art supplies. “Are you okay?” Min asks softly, not quite meeting your eyes as the two of you straighten out the other half completed canvases which balance precariously on the table. You blink in confusion, causing a tear to roll down your cheek. You reach up and brush it with your fingers. They return wet and tinged with green. You let out a small laugh. “I slept on paint again, didn’t I?” you muse. You and Min are standing at the art studio where you had spent all last night in. Your completed painting stands at the corner and Min walks over to it. Min tries to read what you are thinking, but the other has her head turned away. “You stayed here all night to complete this?” Min inspects the painting closer. It depicts a girl standing shyly in front of a boy against a background of red, pink and purple. The boy had his back towards the observer and he stood with his hands behind him holding a bouquet of flowers. The painting showed an innocent love between the two but when Min squinted her eyes, you noticed two circles that were put on the back of the coat the boy was wearing. Min raises an eyebrow and points it out to you. “Are those bullet holes?” You in the meantime had stood hypnotized in front of the painting. A strange feeling is stirring in your heart as you look at what you had painted. It brought forth the memory of Baekhyun standing in front of you with flowers after their first date. It led to the memory of your first shy kiss after. It made you remember the pain you felt from your dream. Another tear perches at the corner of your eye and you turn to brush it angrily away. Min is still standing in front of you, now watching you with concern. She could guess why you are crying and trying so hard to mask it. You had only ever shed tears for one person and this painting brought back the reminder that this person was no longer around you. “I’m not sure what that is,” you laughs nervously, “It was quite late last night. My mind does weird things when I am sleep deprived.” Without further explanation, you grab your bag and head out before any other memory can shake you. “I’m going home to shower,” you say without looking back, “Sorry about the mess of the studio. I’ll be back later to clean it.” Your last words choke and you escape before Min can see the tears that fall consciously down your cheeks this time.

...

3. 2. 1. Boom. Making the entrance of the century, the three horses gallop into the square where the three beings are strapped on. White. The stallion neighs and throws his head back, unsure of where to go next. But a loud snap makes it head to the right and it brings its hooves down on the ground. Its rider’s body has been punctured with holes and the smell that emits from it is horrendous. For the first horsemen is called Pestilence. Red. Its mane has been dipped in the blood of its enemy. It limps as the giant beast follows in step behind the stallion, a battle scar from its recent fight. His rider flails at a sharp right turn, causing the spear attached at the arm to clash with the helmet. For the second horsemen is called War. Black. The man is but naked, showing his skin pulled taut over the ribcage and bones. He carries the pair of scales with his stomach plastered on one end and the other tipped with bread. For the third horsemen is Famine, but this man can no longer fill his hunger seated upon the black horse. There is a final horseman. The fourth’s name is Death. But why does it need to exist, when it is so very much alive in the other three? Excerpt: Written - Three Horsemen Everything from his desk was moved into the presentation room that allowed him more space to work. Papers of the current case overlap with the papers from the older file. They are grouped in a way only the creator can understand and it is Jimin who stands before it. Picking at his lips with a hand, his foot taps rhythmically on the floor as he continues to scan what he has laid out in front of him. He knew something had been bothering him since he returned from the morgue. Now it was clear. He had remembered a case he had taken part of when he had been temporarily stationed in Los Angelos. The case had remained unsolved but the victim was similar to his Jane Doe. In that case, the man had TH3C scratched into the inner part of his cheek. Matching the picture he had taken earlier to the picture in the old file, they were even scratched in the same place. After digging around a little more, he found two other cases that were similar. It could be coincidence but if they were all related, this was not a simple kill any longer. They had a serial killer in their hands. However there is trouble with the cases. Besides the one he is holding, the other three are from Los Angeles. He technically no longer had any jurisdiction over them. Jimin was contemplating on calling up his colleague when his own phone interrupts his thought process. He answers the phone promptly. “Hello?” “Jimin?” your timid voice reaches his ears. His name uttered from you relaxes his tense shoulders. “Hey. What’s up?” He can hear shuffling from your side as you think about what to say. “I just wanted to call and see if you were okay. You didn’t return home last night.” “I went home for a bit but was called out pretty early for a case this morning. Wait, how did you know I didn’t go home?” “Ah… Well, I’m standing in front of your place right now.” “Why are you doing that?” He can basically hear your body language through the phone. You are gnawing on the inside of you cheek and probably tugging at your shirt, a habit you had when you were nervous. “I forgot my keys again. I thought that you might be home and I could use your shower.” Laughing at how sheepish your voice is, he says to you, “That tells me you slept over at the studio again. And very likely have paint on your face.” “Hey!” you huff, “I don’t wake up with paint on my face every single time!” “But you did this time, didn’t you?” he continues teasing you. You mutter something unintelligible, causing him to laugh at you again. “Unfortunately, I can’t step out of the office but if you don’t mind stopping over, I’ll hand you my keys.” You agree to his proposal and tell him that you’ll be there in twenty. Once their call ends, he chuckles silently to himself. You never seemed to change. When he and Baekhyun were roommates, there were multiple times he’d return home and find you standing outside their flat. You would tell him the same story of how you forgot your keys and of whether you could wash up at their place. And each and every time you would have a blotch of paint on you face where you had fallen asleep at the studio. He had teasingly got you face wash in a paint bottle for your birthday a long time ago as a joke. The last time he went over to your place, he had seen it standing in your room. His mind continues to wander to memories of his college days with Baekhyun and you until he is interrupted by Namjoon. “Whoah. What do you have going on here?” he asks, stepping towards the multitude of papers. Jimin takes this break to grab himself a new cup of coffee as the one sitting to the side had long since turned cold. “I was at the morgue earlier and discovered something strange. It reminded me of an old case,” he told Namjoon. Namjoon flipped through a couple of the pages but he was not as patient as Jimin to read through all the details. He scrunched up his nose and breezed past Jimin again. “I wanted to tell you we have a name for our Jane Doe,” Namjoon said, leaning against the doorframe. He is actually quite impressed at what Jimin has discovered in the span of the short time since they discovered the body this morning. Generally, he was impressed with how fast the department had gathered information. Perhaps as this was their biggest case in a while, the team as a whole was interested in solving it as soon as they can. “Sara Michel,” Namjoon continues on, “Female. 25. From Los Angeles. She’s a fine arts curator. She was in town for a meeting with the local museum about transferring a couple of new sculptures over. It’s been confirmed that the room we found her in this morning is the room her company booked for her while she was town.” “Los Angeles,” Jimin repeats. His eyes dart to the papers. Again, their neighbouring city is mentioned. “Yeah. What of it?” Namjoon picks up on Jimin’s sudden interest. He watches as the other walks over to the piles of paper and brings up a folder. “The old case I was talking about,” Jimin says, “It was from when I worked in LA last summer. A bit unusual that Ms. Michel is from there, don’t you think?” Namjoon scratches his chin. “Well, LA is a big city. And we’re only a train ride away….” Jimin shakes his head. “I don’t like it. Something weird is going on here.” Somebody outside the room yells out for Namjoon. He groans and Jimin throws him a sympathetic look. Jimin never told Namjoon, but before Namjoon was offered the promotion as lieutenant, Jimin had been approached by the captain. He had declined the position as he knew all the responsibilities that came with the new role. Besides, he enjoyed working as a detective; it allowed him hands-on access to all cases. “I’ll keep you updated on anything else I find,” Namjoon says as he turns to leave. Jimin replies, “Same here.” “Alright, well see you around. If I don’t get lost amongst all the conferences I have to start pulling…” his voice trails off as he exits with a dejected curve of his back.

...

“Hi,” your voice interrupts his nap. After Namjoon had left, Jimin had sat down at the desk fully planning to do some more research. However, his fatigue got the better of him and he ended up dozing off. He rubs his eyes sleepily and rises to greet you. You urge him to sit back down. You may have spent the night at the studio, but you looked more put together than he was. Dressed in the first pair of jeans he could find and an old tshirt, he was in a contrast to your outfit. You wore a pair of black and white polka-dotted overall shorts that you paired with a slim fit quarter sleeved shirt inside. A necklace hung around your neck, and you had thrown your hair into a messy bun. Tendrils of hair had fallen out, but it framed your face giving you an overall effortless but fresh look. Walking up to him, you sit gently at the edge of the table while he remains seated to your side. He gently reaches up and smudges the shadow of green paint on your face. “What a way to greet me,” you pout. He smiles at you, then yawns and stretches. Remembering why you had arrived, he rummages through his pocket and retrieves the key to his apartment for you. You thanked him for it and then rotate in your spot to take in the entire room. You were similar in this way, where the two of you had an eye for minute details. It intrigues you to see the pictures that had been laid out. It is true that they are morbid but being around Jimin all these years had made you accustomed to seeing images of a crime scene. “Are you going to be coming home tonight?” you ask him. Your back is still turned towards him as you walk up and study a picture up close. He walks up to you and stands behind. You were looking at the picture of the markings on one of the victims. “TH3C,” you whisper. “No,” his voice rumbles from behind you, “This case is pretty big. I’ll most likely be spending the night here.” You spin in your spot to face him again and your noses nearly touch. He stumbles and takes a step back at the close proximity. A frown starts to crease your forehead and you nervously chews on your fingernail. “What is it?” he sighs. It takes him a moment to gather himself while the scent of you lingers around him. “I feel bad that I’m barging into your place again,” you mumble, “What if I bring you dinner tonight?” “There’s no need. I’ll order take out from nearby. Besides, you’re always welcome at my place. It’s not a bother.” “Jimin…” He sighs, defeated. “Sure. I’ll wait for your meal.” You delightedly clap your hands together. “Perfect! I’ll make your favourite dish tonight! How does carbonara sound?” Nodding he feels the usual smile that appears around you on his face. It was strange. Before you came, he had nearly fainted with tiredness but now that you were here, it was like you had transferred you energy to him. “I’ll see you again tonight, then!” you quip animatedly. Taking his keys off the desk and into your pocket, you makes your way towards the door before stopping again. “TH,” you begin, “It makes me think of Three Horsemen.” “What’s that?” he asks you, distracted by the thought of delicious homemade food. “Three Horsemen. Remember the novel I was reading? It was just a random thought. And then maybe the number three for the third one? I don’t know what “C” would mean though. Perhaps it’s the horsemen from set C,” you continue to ramble on. You notice that Jimin is now staring at you with an intense gaze. You wave your hand in front of you, as if the simple action would cause you thoughts to magically disappear as well. “Forget what I said. I’m an artist,” you laugh nervously, “Besides if it was a set C, there would be a set B and A. And that would make… nine total kills. My mind is just overactive with the books I’m reading.” Jimin laughs nervously along with you. But inside, he mentally makes a note to investigate the possibility of what you have said, however miniscule that may be. You thank him once again for his hospitality and wave him good bye. When he is left alone again, he sinks back into his seat. It makes his bottom ache as he had been seated for a while, so he paces the room. Three Horsemen – Third Horsemen – Set C. TH3C. It wasn’t an unreasonable conclusion to draw. It was scary to imagine though. Eight other victims that were not found. His thoughts are interrupted once again when the phone in the room rings. Namjoon is on the other end when Jimin picks up. “We found a witness.”

...

next part

[does-this-look-logicality-to-you]

Valentine’s Day

words: 2868 universe: human au characters: virgil, roman, patton; mentions of remus, logan, janus pairings: romantic prinxiety, platonic moxiety, platonic DLAMPR, implied background romantic logicality warnings: none i can think of, just fluff on fluff on fluff a/n: happy late valentines day, everyone! i wanted to have this done on actual valentine’s day but executive dysfunction said no thank you. this fic is dedicated to my amazing girlfriend @katlikethesword. i still can’t believe how lucky i am to be your datemate, and i love you with all my heart. this is my first time writing a prinxiety fic this long, so i hope you like it <3

Virgil had never liked Valentine’s Day. As he often said, it was just another commercial holiday created for big corporations to take advantage of people’s relationships in order to make even more money. It was the same with holidays like Christmas and Halloween, but Valentine’s Day had always stood out to him as the worst of them all. He sometimes wondered if, deep down, he disliked this day in particular because he’d never had someone to spend it with.

That is, he didn’t, until he met Roman.

Virgil never would have guessed he’d fall for someone like Roman. The two had met through the internet, after joining a small Discord server for those who shared an interest in Steven Universe. The two held a sort of rivalry between them at first, arguing almost constantly to the point where the others would grow nervous when they noticed both of them online at once. They didn’t dislike one another, per se, but the fact that their opinions clashed a majority of the time led to conflict more often than not.

After some time— and convincing by the others— the two of them begrudgingly started to get along. Their arguments went from heated debates to playful bouts of banter. Virgil found himself growing fond of his eccentric friend, and began to see him as less annoying and self-absorbed. He instead grew to appreciate his sense of humor, and his eagerness to stand up for his beliefs, and his unrelenting loyalty to those he cared about.

Over time, Virgil’s feelings blossomed into something more than just platonic and he felt himself falling. It had terrified him at first— after all, he’d never had feelings like this toward anyone before. He finally came to terms with it after one fateful night, when a voice call lasted so long that the two of them had ended up falling asleep. After that, there was no turning back. After what felt like forever— in reality, a week— he finally opened up about his feelings, and somehow, by some miracle, Roman reciprocated them.

As a result, the two of them were now in a romantic relationship together. Virgil felt himself fall more and more in love every day. It was the simple things that made him special. Roman often sent him messages containing words of adoration and devotion, and he tagged his boyfriend in Tumblr posts that reminded him of their relationship, or of Virgil in general. Virgil had been hesitant to admit that he was in love with Roman, but he did so eventually. He couldn’t imagine loving anyone else.

Not everything was this easy, though. Roman lived thousands of miles away, too far to come and visit unless he was travelling with his family, which was unlikely considering how unappealing his home state was as a vacation spot and how unlikely it was for his parents to plan a trip there. All they could do was pine hopelessly as they waited until they could finally see one another. It wasn’t uncommon for Virgil to lose himself in daydreams of the day they could finally see each other, when they could finally hold each other, when they could finally be together. Roman sometimes joked that he’d expect the pining to die down when they got together, only for it to double once they actually did, and Virgil couldn’t help but agree. It was hard being so far from the person he cared about. All he wanted was to see his love, to be by his side, to be in his arms, even if only for a little while. Was that really too much to ask?

__

When he woke up on February 14, the first thing Virgil did was grab his phone and open Discord to message Roman. When he did, he’d been expecting his boyfriend to have sent him something, anything, but there was nothing. Maybe he’s not awake yet. He hoped that was it. gerard-gay: hey. happy valentine’s day. i miss you. After he sent it, Virgil lay back down, pulling the covers over himself and closing his eyes again. He stayed like that for a few minutes before stumbling out of bed and changing out of his pajamas. He wasted little time in changing into a purple t-shirt, his favorite hoodie, and a pair of dark gray sweatpants. With that done, he headed into the bathroom. He splashed water on his face, then dried it before taking out his makeup kit. He decided to go for a simple look today, complete with the black eyeshadow on his lower lid that he often wore. Satisfied, he left the bathroom and headed into the kitchen.

The first thing he noticed was that his parents weren’t sitting on the couch like they usually were. Panic surged through him as his eyes flitted around the room, looking for some kind of clue. His gaze fell on a bright pink sticky note on the counter. He came over to it and read it. We had to go pick something up. We’ll be home around 1pm. Love you! ~Mom and Dad Virgil sighed in relief. They hadn’t abandoned him after all. They could have told me beforehand, though. He glanced at the clock on the microwave. 8:49. Damnit, I got up too early. At least he had the house to himself for a while.

He made himself a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal, got out his daily pills, and headed into the living room and set everything on the coffee table. He sat on the couch and turned on the TV, switching it to Netflix and putting on The Office. It wasn’t his favorite show, but it was better than eating in silence. As he ate his cereal, Virgil checked his notifications again. Nothing. He can’t still be asleep, can he? Even on the weekends, Roman was usually awake at around this time. He wasn’t ignoring him, was he?

Virgil soon finished his breakfast and grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch, swaddling it around himself. He stayed there for a while, occasionally having to venture out of his cozy cocoon to ensure Netflix that he was, in fact, still watching. As he watched, he kept an eye on his phone for any indication that Roman was alive and hadn’t grown bored of him.

Soon, he felt his phone buzz, and he nearly dropped it as he opened Discord to check the notification. To his disappointment, it wasn’t from Roman. It was instead from Patton, one of their mutual friends. happypappypatton: Happy palentine’s day!

Virgil couldn’t help but chuckle. gerard-gay: happy palentine’s day pat

happypappypatton: How’s your day so far?

gerard-gay: could be better

happypappypatton: Oh no! Why? Did something happen?

gerard-gay: nothing happened gerard-gay: just kinda worried about roman

happypappypatton: Is he okay?

gerard-gay: idk gerard-gay: i messaged him earlier but he didn’t respond

happypappypatton: Oh no, I’m so sorry!

gerard-gay: it’s okay gerard-gay: at least my parents aren’t home gerard-gay: so i get the house to myself😎

happypappypatton: Can I call you and keep you company?

gerard-gay: nah that’s okay gerard-gay: i don’t wanna take time out of your day

happypappypatton: You’re not happypappypatton: Nobody should be alone on Valentine’s day happypappypatton: Pleeeeease??? I want to talk to you!

gerard-gay: okay

happypappypatton: Yay!!

Virgil laughed to himself as he clicked the phone icon. It didn’t even finish ringing once before Patton picked up.

“Hi Vee!”

“Hey, Pat.”

“How’ve you been?”

“In the ten seconds since you last talked to me?” He laughed. “Exactly the same.”

Patton giggled. “Good point.”

“What about you?”

“I’m doing great! You know I love Valentine’s day.”

“I know you do. You and your roommate are having that Palentine’s party this year, right?”

“Yup!”

“I wish I could come,” Virgil half-joked.

“I know, I wish you could too. Just hang in there, we’ve only got a year and a half ‘till you graduate.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m counting the days.”

“Me too,” Patton agreed with a soft laugh. “Has Roman gotten back to you yet?”

“Nope.”

“That’s really weird. I would have thought he’d have sent you a page-long message about how much he loves you and misses you.”

“I know, I thought so too.” He sighed. “Do you think he’s sick of me?”

“No, absolutely not. You know how much Roman cares about you. Besides, even if he didn’t, he wouldn’t just ignore your messages.”

“Yeah, I guess. It would be pretty out of character for him to just ghost me.”

“Ghost you? But it’s not Halloween, it’s Valentine’s Day!”

Virgil groaned. “You couldn’t not make a dad joke, huh?”

“Sorry,” he giggled. “But you gotta admit, that was kinda funny.”

“Meh. It wasn’t your worst work.”

Patton laughed.

“Anyway.”

“Yeah, anyway…”

The two of them were quiet for a moment. “What about the others?” asked Virgil. “Have you talked to ‘em today?”

“Mhm! I DMed everyone earlier. I’m actually talking to ‘em right now.”

“Oh, cool. Are you…” he hesitated before finishing, “talking to Roman?”

“No, he’s the only one who hasn’t said anything. So on the off-chance he’s actually ignoring you, he’s ignoring me too.”

“Has anyone else said anything?”

“Nope. It’s weird, I asked them if they’d talked to him today after you told me he hadn’t been responding, and they all said no.”

“Even Remus?”

“Uh-huh. Apparently he hasn’t even seen him today.”

Virgil started bouncing his leg anxiously. “Okay, now I’m getting kinda scared. Do you think something happened to him?”

“I dunno. Maybe? But Remus would’ve said something about it, right?”

“Yeah, I’d think so.”

“Let’s change the subject,” Patton suggested. “I don’t wanna make you more anxious about this than you already are.”

“Thanks, Pat. How are the others? What are they up to?”

“They’re doing pretty good! Remus is working on a writing project, Janus is playing Stardew Valley, and Logan’s procrastinating on his schoolwork by scrolling Tumblr. Don’t worry, I already scolded him for it.”

Virgil laughed, the mention of Logan reminding him of something. “Ooh, speaking of Logan, are you gonna tell him today?”

“No, not today.”

Virgil was genuinely shocked. “Really? Why not?”

“C’mon, you know him. He sees Valentine’s Day as an excuse for big companies to make a boatload of money.”

“So? I think that too. What does that have to do with you not telling him?”

“It wouldn’t mean anything to tell him today. I don’t even know if I’m ready to tell him yet or not. Besides, he’s got a lot on his plate today, Valentine’s day or not.”

“I get that. Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so pushy. You tell him when you know you’re ready.”

“Thanks, Vee. You didn’t sound pushy, though. I definitely know how frustrating it can be when your friend’s been pining after someone for months on end but they still refuse to do anything about it.“

Virgil laughed. “Okay, okay, I get it. I’ll stop complaining.”

“I’m not saying you have to. I did my fair share of complaining when y—” Patton stopped abruptly, and Virgil heard a faint voice coming from the other end. “Okay, just gimme a second,” Patton called out, clearly talking to someone else. “I’m so sorry, Vee, I gotta go. Emile promised a couple friends we’d meet them for lunch today and it completely slipped my mind.”

“That’s okay,” Virgil reassured him. “You go have fun, Pat. I’ll be fine by myself.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. If I get really lonely I can always talk to the others.”

“Okay. Tell me if Roman gets back to you, ‘kay?”

“I will. I’ll talk to ya later.”

“Bye! Love you!”

“Love you too.” Virgil hung up the phone and got up, grabbing his dirty dishes and taking them into the kitchen to wash them. Once he finished, he glanced over at the clock, which read 10:37. Only about two and a half hours until Mom and Dad get home, he thought as he put the dishes away. He left the kitchen, checking his phone again as he headed toward his bedroom. Once again, Roman still hadn’t said anything. He’s definitely awake by now. Had he been right? Had something happened to him? He forced the thought away. He couldn’t let that bother him. Why was it so important, anyway? Today was just another day.

He reached his room and sat down at his desk, turning on his laptop and putting on his headphones. He then opened Spotify and put on the playlist he’d made for Roman the day after they’d gotten together, before switching over to Tumblr and scrolling through his dashboard. He could probably do the exact same thing in the living room, but he preferred the cozier, more familiar atmosphere of his bedroom. Peanut, his cat, climbed up onto his lap and curled up into a ball. Virgil smiled to himself and reached one hand down to scratch him behind the ear. Peanut purred, and Virgil’s smile widened.

He stayed there for a few hours, seeing what everyone on Tumblr was up to today. Every so often, he switched to Discord to see if Roman had replied to him yet, but no such luck. He did his best to ignore his growing worry, focusing instead on the computer in front of him and the cat on his lap. He could be busy today, he reminded himself. His world doesn’t revolve around you.

Soon enough, he heard the familiar rumble of the garage door, followed by the ca-CHUNK of the front door and the clip-clop-clip-clop of his parents’ footsteps. Virgil gently moved Peanut off his lap, which the pale ginger tabby didn’t seem to mind much. “I’m gonna go say hi to Mom and Dad,” he told the cat. “You can come if ya want.” Peanut meowed in response, which made Virgil laugh. He knew his cat couldn’t understand him, but he still found it wildly amusing when he acted as if he did. He crouched down to pat his head a few times before leaving his bedroom and going into the living room. He smiled at his parents when he saw them. “Hey,” he greeted, giving a sort of half-wave.

“Hey, honey,” his mom greeted with a smile.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” added his dad.

“Yeah, you too.” He came over and hugged his parents.

“Have you eaten yet?” his dad wanted to know.

“I did,” he reassured him. “I had a bowl of cereal.”

This satisfied him. “Good.”

“What’ve you been up to?” asked his mom.

“Not much. I had breakfast, called Patton and then went to hang out with Peanut and scroll Tumblr for a bit. What about you guys? What exactly were you picking up?” He glanced around in search of a box or some kind of indication of a possible answer but found none.

“Actually,” answered his mom. “It was something for you.”

Virgil hadn’t expected that. “Oh! I-uh, cool. Thanks.”

“Don’t thank us yet,” his dad told him with a laugh. “Go and see, it’s in the garage.”

“Okay.” He went into the laundry room, where the door to the garage was, with no idea what he was going to find in there. His parents rarely got him big presents, and when they did it was either for his birthday or for Christmas. He had no idea what to expect. He reached the door, turned the handle, and flicked on the lights.

Standing there was a teenage boy with a broad smile. He wore a red hoodie and a pair of ripped blue jeans, and his white sneakers were dirty and worn. Around his neck was a necklace with a gold-colored charm shaped like a crown. He spoke, his voice sounding to Virgil like the most beautiful of songs. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

“ROMAN!” Virgil barreled into him, nearly knocking him over as he threw his arms around him. “Oh my God, you’re actually here. Like, right here. In my garage. How did you even manage to do this?”

“I have my ways.”

Virgil pulled back a little to smirk at him. “You’re just as insufferable in real life as you are online, huh?”

“Well, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me and my insufferableness.”

“Unfortunately.” Virgil gave him a lopsided grin as an indication that he was joking, and an adoring smile crossed his boyfriend’s face. “Is this why you haven’t answered my message?”

“I can’t believe you’re actually here. You actually are here, right? This isn’t some practical joke?”

“It’s not a joke. I wouldn’t do that to you. Well, maybe I would, but not on a day like today. Not on Valentine’s Day.”

The two were quiet for a few moments, just taking in one another’s presence. Virgil was pretty confident that he would willingly stay here forever if he could.

“Well, now that you’re here, what do you want to do first?” Virgil asked, finally breaking the silence.

Roman gave Virgil the playful smirk he’d only ever imagined before. “I think I have an idea.” He rested a hand on his cheek and leaned in, and Virgil felt his heart soar as he and Roman shared their long-awaited first kiss.

[amchara]

Talking Bodies - Kit/Ty/OFC fic (Explicit, 1/5)

Ty has been observing their friend Ellie during her unexpected stay at the Herondale townhouse and believes he has found a solution to her problems - or at least, her problems with men. And Kit is usually up for his plans, even if this one is a bit unorthodox.

Yes, this is an Kit / Ty / OFC fic, set five years post-The Wicked Powers, while Kit and Ty are living and working in London. Ty POV. Part of my London Files ‘verse but you don’t need to have read them to read this mostly pwp story ;) Ellie is a school friend of Kit’s and has been in other stories of mine - and if you like the idea of Mari the werewolf, maybe you’d like this story? 😊)

While this chapter and the next don’t have any actual sex in it (talking and consent is important, yo) be forewarned, it’s going to get smutty from chapter three onwards, so has an overall explicit rating. Those chapters will not be posted on tumblr but will be linked to Ao3. Thanks to @dontmindmyshadowhunting for the feedback on the story so far!

Chapter One: Talking Bodies

Ty was again mulling over a problem that had been nagging at him for several months now. A problem that had just entered the kitchen from the downstairs flat that had previously been used as the servants’ quarters in the Herondale townhouse, and was padding across the cold floor in fluffy pink slippers. And hadn’t yet noticed him.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Ty!” Ellie yelped, as she turned around from where she had put on the coffeemaker. “Where the hell did you come from?”

“Upstairs,” Ty shrugged, as he sat down at the table, watching her carefully. As she finally took in what he was wearing- or wasn’t wearing, as was his case, being only clothed from the waist down. He watched as her eyes surreptitiously lingered over his shoulders and trailed down further. He lifted his arms up, in a casual move he knew showed off several muscle groups in his upper chest and her jaw moved slightly as she swallowed, trying to remain casual. Ty took another couple mental notes.

Ellie noticed his gaze and she quickly looked away, stretching for the laundry basket and launched something at him.

He grabbed the soft t-shirt - one of Kit’s - out of the air before it could hit his face.

“Put on a shirt, you’re blinding me with that glow-in-the-dark chest,” she scowled as she busied herself with putting on the kettle. But her voice held that tone that after three months of living under the same roof, Ty knew didn't actually mean she was annoyed. Well, fairly sure- but as he had confirmed the reaction he expected, he pulled on the t-shirt, just as he saw Kit come into the kitchen, all sweaty and flushed after his morning run.

“Pretty sure that’s one of mine, Ty,” he said affectionately, coming over to give him a light kiss on the mouth. “But it looks good on you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ty could see Ellie’s eyes snapping back to them, almost unwillingly.

“Ellie’s request,” Ty said.

Kit looked over to her. “Oh- and what pray tell, is your reason for protecting his modesty? From one of your conquests?” he teased, his eyes flickering to the open door downstairs.

“Yeah, that’s it,” she replied, a fleeting smile crossing her face. “I’m used to the Shadowhunter genes but I’m worried my one night stands might find Ty irresistible and decide to use me as an excuse to see him again, and no one wants that, believe me.” Her voice was light but Ty could see a small crease form on Kit’s brow, and Ty thought he was also recalling the incident from a few nights ago when Ellie had ejected an angry, drunk Irish guy from her bedroom and Kit and Ty had had to escort him out the front door.

But Ellie had already apologised profusely the morning after and Kit wasn’t about to give his friend more grief about it. “Very noble of you,” he said, winking at Ty. “I’d hate to add more bloodstains to my clothes defending Ty’s honour.”

He sauntered over to the counter, his face brightening as he saw the coffeemaker light go off. “Ah coffee- my love,” he stopped short as Ellie poked him in the stomach. Ty straightened up to watch the interaction.

Her eyes were glittering as she held her hand out in front of the pot. “I made this for myself, angel boy- get your own.” Kit bent his head down, close to her face, giving her his sweetest smile. “Yeah, but you’re not about to drink it all,” he said, in a wheedling tone.

“Oi- your Herondale charm does not work on me,” she informed him but Ty could see her smile widening and her breathing had sped up, just a touch and he wished he had his notebook out. But he couldn’t risk it and so he turned his attention instead to Kit’s reaction.

Kit had grabbed a coffee mug and was feinting, trying to get around as Ellie - who had been to the Academy, even if she had dropped out - put up a good defensive shield.

Despite that, they all knew Kit could have easily gotten around her, if he wanted to. He instead put down the coffee mug and grabbed her in a big hug, squishing her close to him.

“Oh my god, you smell,” she complained.

“Pour me a mug and I’ll go away,” he said, looking over to grin at Ty, who just smiled and shook his head. Originally, it had been an unwanted addition to his and Kit’s routine but now he was used to their occasional morning antics. Although they had been few and far between recently, as Ellie had retreated downstairs more often. And it did kind of remind him of chaotic mornings at the L.A. Institute.

“Go shower and I’ll put another pot on for you,” she countered.

“Deal,” Kit said, instantly letting go, although Ty could see how he subtly moved his eyes away from where Ellie’s low-cut top was peeking through her dressing gown.

After Kit left the kitchen, Ellie turned and held out a cup to him, filled with steaming tea. She always remembered.

“Thanks,” Ty said, taking it.

She sat down with her own large mug of coffee and a bowl of cereal and nodded at the pile of files he had left on the table overnight. “Busy day of work ahead?”

“Kind of,” Ty replied. “We have a few days of senior Clave members visiting so we’re preparing summaries and presentations of all the recently-closed cases.”

“Sounds important,” she said, looking over the files with a critical eye.

“It’s not really - they all get reports sent when we close them out, they just choose not to read them. It actually takes up time we could be spending working on new cases,” Ty said, trying not to let the irritation color his voice - he had promised Anush he would try to be more polite this quarterly meeting and he might as well start early before he headed to the Centurion office at Whitehall.

But he could see that Ellie had caught on. “Sounds annoying, then,” she clarified. “Do you- do you need-“ her voice suddenly went softer, shyer. “Anything I could help out with on the ground, while you’re stuck impressing the senior brass?”

Ty wished there was - she had been extremely helpful in the dragon scale smuggling case - but he had to be truthful. “No,” he said and he could see her face fall. “But if there’s anything Shadow Market related that you could help with, I’ll let you know.”

She nodded, catching his drift but she still looked sad. “Great, just let me know.”

After Ellie had left to get ready for her university classes, Ty pulled out his notebook from the middle of the pile of files and wrote down that morning’s interactions. He tapped on the table with his pencil as he thought, and then expanded further on his conclusions. He was almost entirely sure they were correct, and that he had found a course of action he was happy with.

Problem was, he still wasn’t entirely sure how Kit would react and he was key to anything progressing further. He watched as Kit returned to the kitchen table, running his hands through his still wet hair and figured now was as good a time as any to let him in on it.

“I think Ellie needs something to boost her confidence,” Ty said, without any preamble. “And find someone who appreciates her. Someone she can sleep with and not worry that they won’t call again or handle her moods.”

Kit gave him a quick look from across the table, a bit confused at Ty’s interest. “Agreed,” he said, leaning back in his chair. He grabbed at his cup of coffee, taking a big swig. “The men she’s recently been seeing have been trash.”

“Do you have a plan?” he asked casually.

Ty nodded.

Kit sat back up. “I’m in.” He nearly always was, when it came to Ty’s plans. “So we’re matchmaking Ellie? Setting her up with a nice Shadowhunter boy or girl or were you thinking more traditional - overseeing her swipe rights on Tinder?” His eyes danced as he started getting into the idea, pulling out his phone.

Ty skimmed his hands over the surface of the breakfast table. He knew what Tinder was - Dru had shown him it earlier in the summer, when Thais had briefly installed it to get over her latest heartbreak. “Maybe for step two. Step one is us sleeping with her.”

Kit choked on his coffee. “Um…” He refocused his attention on Ty, his blue eyes subtly darting over Ty’s face, as he quickly assessed Ty’s reaction.

Ty waited for him to finish. As it often was, he figured it would be easier to have Kit read him, rather than have to explain. He waited for a couple minutes and then prepared to show him his notes, if he needed to explain further.

Kit sat back. “You’re serious?” There were further questions in his voice but also, tentative interest, Ty thought.

“Yes, I am.” Ty nodded. “Don’t you think she’s attractive?”

Kit let out a brief, nervous chuckle. “Of course- but she’s also my friend. So that’s a boundary that we’ve not crossed- or at least, not since school. Plus, I’m with you.”

“You know I don’t mind. You can’t control who you find attractive,” Ty said. They had spoken about this early on in their relationship - Kit’s flirting with whoever caught his eye never bothered him. Ty knew he was the one who had Kit’s heart. Plus, he wasn’t suggesting they do this separately.

“My question- do you find her attractive?” Kit asked, his voice deliberately light. “I know you were with both girls and guys at the Scholomance but I wasn’t sure if you still…”

Ty thought back to the way that Ellie often held herself, her angry stance challenging the world, her blue eyes flashing when she and Ty had spotted the caged dragons in the London Shadow Market and how she had charged right in; how she flung her arms in casual exuberance around Kit when she came in after a night of drinking and dancing, how the dimple in her cheek deepened when she gave one of her rare smiles, her habit of tapping her fingers to her lips as she read one of her psychology journals in the library. He had spent the last three months observing her - and Ty knew one of his conclusions would be: yes; he found her attractive.

Ty shrugged. “Yeah, I do.” Kit took in this information, mulling it over, and then he looked up.

“Wait- but does she think we’re attractive?”

“Yes,” Ty said. He held out his notebook and passed it to Kit. “I’ve been making notes.”

Kit let out a quick laugh, as he flipped through the pages. “Ty- I both can and can’t believe you took notes on it.” His eyes widened and the flipping of pages slowed as he started to read more thoroughly. “I see you took notes on all of us…” he said, as he gave a lingering, inscrutable glance up at Ty before returning to read.

Ty could feel a small flush creep up from his neck. “Yeah, I did- I’m glad we offered her a place to stay until her loan money comes in, given the living arrangement with her boyfriend after they broke up. But it was strange at first. This was just a way to deal with that and well…” he rubbed the back of his neck, watching Kit. “Then it just seemed helpful to continue with it.”

Kit had let out a soft growl at the mention of Ellie’s cheating boyfriend, but his eyes softened as he looked back to Ty. “I know I’ve said this before - but I really appreciate you were willing to have her stay, given how much I know you hate disruption and she’s more my friend than yours.”

Ty watched as Kit traced his voyance rune, a familiar tic that he had when he was feeling nervous around Ty.

“She’s my friend too,” Ty said firmly, and he looked up to meet Kit’s face, eyes resting just below his cheekbone. “Especially after the past few months and the stuff around the Shadow Market case.”

Kit nodded, reassured. He handed back the notebook to Ty. “This was absolutely fascinating- I had no idea I had so many tells, especially when it comes to pre-jumping you,” he said, a smile playing on his lips and his normal cheerful manner returning. “But I’ve also realised - I didn’t need notes to know that Ellie thinks we’re both hot. Maybe it’s been less frequent recently, given everything but she’s made plenty of comments over the years on how attractive she thinks we both are. In very loud, complimentary terms- and…” he added, the smile mixing with a small wince, his eyes focused on past memories. “Sometimes in very inappropriate places.”

“The other thing is,” he said, speaking slower as if he were thinking out loud. “Is it - we wouldn’t be taking advantage of her, you know- her grief?”

“Her mother died two years ago,” Ty pointed out. He could see Kit about to protest and he continued. “I know, believe me, I know that grief doesn’t just go away…” Livvy was the unspoken word between them. “But also-” Ty searched for the words. “There comes a point when you want people to stop treating you like this fragile, broken thing. You need to start making your own decisions again and decide how you want to live… after,” he said. “And that’s partially why I think we should do it. I think she’s… stuck in that. Also stuck in that she dropped out of the Academy so she’s not exactly a mundane anymore but she’s not a Downworlder either.”

He paused, wondering if he needed to explain the other part but he thought Kit already knew about it.

Kit looked thoughtful.

“She can also always say no,” Ty pointed out logically.

“True,” Kit admitted. He grinned. “Okay, if she’s in, and you are, so am I.” He poked Ty’s arm playfully. “And to think I was going to just grab a coffee and head to the Institute. I didn’t expect to get a threesome proposition from my boyfriend over breakfast,” he said.

“What’s that?” Ellie had reappeared at the top of the stairs, now fully dressed and Kit looked over at Ty, the question in his eyes.

Ty shook his head, and mouthed. Tonight

Kit nodded, blushing slightly as he looked over at Ellie. She had her back to him as she went rummaging in the fridge and Kit snuck a glance at Ty, as if watching for his reaction.

Ty couldn’t help but find it hot that Kit was looking for his approval. His boyfriend didn’t blush that often, especially not almost five years into their relationship. He smiled into his tea. Depending on Ellie’s reaction to their proposition, this could be an intriguing dynamic to play with. His imagination began to play in full technicolor as he played possible scenarios in his head. He took a sip of his tea, and made the effort to meet Kit’s eyes.

Whatever Kit saw there made him blush even harder, and Ty’s smile grew wider.

(Chapter Two)

—-

Hah, this has been consuming me almost my whole holiday but I will get back to the Hadestown fic soon, as I’ve almost finished this one, just doing the edits on most of the other chapters .

Tag list: @jesse-is-spiraling maybe @thechangeling for the Ty POV? But let me know if not… and let me know if you want to be added/removed.

[steelmogairun]

Nyo ho ho ho~ It’s your first post from Mod Gyro, sorry I haven’t been active /gen, a lot has been goin on in our life, so we appreciate the patience!

Farm Animal Pronouns!

Sheep Pronouns

Sheep/Sheeps/Sheeps/Sheep’s/Sheepsself

I think sheep is very nice.

I asked sheeps if I can borrow sheep’s pencil.

Sheep told me that the house is sheeps.

Sheep said sheep would rather do it sheepself.

Sh/eep/eeps/eep’s/Sheepself

Wool/Wools/Wools/Wool’s/Woolself

Lamb/Lambs/Lambs/Lamb’s/Lambself

Ewe/Ewes/Ewes/Ewe’s/Eweself

Ram/Rams/Rams/Ram’s/Ramself

Horn/Horns/Horns/Horn’s/Hornself

🐑/🐑s/🐑s/🐑’s/🐑 self

🐏/🐏s/🐏s/🐏’s/🐏self

Cat Pronouns

Meow/Meows/Meows/Meow’s/Meowself

Mew/Mews/Mews/Mew’s/Mewself

Mewl/Mewls/Mewls/Mewl’s/Mewlself

Kit/Kitten/Kittens/Kitten’s/Kittenself

Kitten/Kittens/Kittens/Kitten’s/Kittenself

Paw/Paws/Paws/Paw’s/Pawself

Claw/Claws/Claws/Claw’s/Clawself

Whisker/Whiskers/Whiskers/Whisker’s/Whiskerself

Whis/Ker/Whiskers/Whisker’s/Whiskerself

Purr/Purrs/Purrs/Purr’s/Purrself

🐈/🐈s/🐈s/🐈’s/🐈self

🐱/🐱s/🐱s/🐱’s/🐱self

🐈‍⬛/🐈‍⬛s/🐈‍⬛s/🐈‍⬛’s/🐈‍⬛self

Goat Pronouns

Goat/Goats/Goats/Goat’s/Goatself

Buck/Bucks/Bucks/Buck’s/Buckself

Kid/Kids/Kids/Kid’s/Kidself

Horn/Horns/Horns/Horn’s/Hornself

Hoof/Hooves/Hooves/Hoof’s/Hoofself

Bleat/Bleats/Bleats/Bleat’s/Bleatself

🐐/🐐s/🐐s/🐐’s/🐐self

Chicken Pronouns

Chick/Chicks/Chicks/Chick’s/Chickself

Egg/Eggs/Eggs/Egg’s/Eggself

Hen/Hens/Hens/Hen’s/Henself

Rooster/Roosters/Roosters/Rooster’s/Roosterself

Feath/er/Feathers/Feather’s/Featherself

Wing/Wings/Wings/Wing’s/Wingself

Chick/en/Chickens/Chicken’s/Chickenself

🐓/🐓s/🐓s/🐓’s/🐓self

🐤/🐤s/🐤s/🐤’s/🐤self

🐣/🐣s/🐣s/🐣’s/🐣self

🐥/🐥s/🐥s/🐥’s/🐥self

🐔/🐔s/🐔s/🐔’s/🐔self

Duck Pronouns

Beak/Beaks/Beaks/Beak’s/Beakself

Waddle/Waddles/Waddles/Waddle’s/Waddleself

Duck/Ducks/Ducks/Duck’s/Duckself

Duck/ling/Ducks/Duck’s/Ducklingself

Pond/Ponds/Ponds/Pond’s/Pondself

🦆/🦆s/🦆s/🦆’s/🦆self

🪶/🪶s/🪶s/🪶’s/🪶self

Pig Pronouns

Pig/Pigs/Pigs/Pig’s/Pigself

Pink/Pinks/Pinks/Pink’s/Pinkself

Oink/Oinks/Oinks/Oink’s/Oinkself

Squeal/Squeals/Squeals/Squeal’s/Squealself

Mud/Muds/Muds/Mud’s/Mudself

Hog/Hogs/Hogs/Hog’s/Hogself

Pig/let/Pigs/let’s/Pigletself

Snout/Snouts/Snouts/Snout’s/Snoutself

🐖/🐖s/🐖s/🐖’s/🐖self

🐷/🐷s/🐷s/🐷’s/🐷self

🐽/🐽s/🐽s/🐽‘s/🐽self

Cow Pronouns

Cow/Cows/Cows/Cow’s/Cowself

Calf/Calves/Calves/Calf’s/Calfself

Moo/Moos/Moos/Moo’s/Mooself

Milk/Milks/Milks/Milk’s/Milkself

Bell/Bells/Bells/Bell’s/Bellself

Bull/Bulls/Bulls/Bull’s/Bullself

Ox/Oxen/Oxen/Oxen’s/Oxself

Cattle/Cattles/Cattles/Cattle’s/Cattleself

Hay/Hays/Hays/Hay’s/Hayself

🐮/🐮s/🐮s/🐮‘ s/🐮self

🐄/🐄s/🐄s/🐄’s/🐄self

Horse Pronouns

Horse/Horses/Horses/Horse’s/Horseself

Saddle/Saddles/Saddles/Saddle’s/Saddleself

Trot/Trots/Trots/Trot’s/Trotself

Gallop/Gallops/Gallops/Gallop’s/Gallopself

Canter/Canters/Canters/Canter’s/Canterself

Colt/Colts/Colts/Colt’s/Coltself

Equine/Equines/Equines/Equine’s/Equineself

Filly/Fillies/Fillies/Filly’s/Fillyself

Rein/Reins/Reins/Rein’s/Reinself

Mare/Mares/Mares/Mare’s/Mareself

Pony/Ponies/Ponies/Pony’s/Ponyself

Stallion/Stallions/Stallions/Stallion’s/Stallionself

Foal/Foals/Foals/Foal’s/Foalself

🐎/🐎s/🐎s/🐎’s/🐎self

🐴/🐴s/🐴s/🐴’s/🐴self

Dog Pronouns

Dog/Dogs/Dogs/Dog’s/Dogself

Pup/Pups/Pups/Pup’s/Puppyself

Pup/Puppys/Puppys/Puppy’s/Puppyself

Puppy/Puppys/Puppys/Puppy’s/Puppyself

Paw/Paws/Paws/Paw’s/Pawself

Wag/Wags/Wags/Wag’s/Wagself

Bark/Barks/Barks/Bark’s/Barkself

Yip/Yips/Yips/Yip’s/Yipself

Yelp/Yelps/Yelps/Yelp’s/Yelpself

Kib/Kibble/Kibbles/Kibble’s/Kibbleself

Bone/Bones/Bones/Bone’s/Boneself

Canine/Canines/Canines/Canine’s/Canineself

Hound/Hounds/Hounds/Hound’s/Houndself

Pooch/Pooches/Pooches/Pooch’s/Poochself

Fido/Fidos/Fidos/Fido’s/Fidoself

Doggo/Doggos/Doggos/Doggo’s/Doggoself

Ruff/Ruffs/Ruffs/Ruff’s/Ruffself

Collar/Collars/Collars/Collar’s/Collarself

Leash/Leashes/Leashes/Leash’s/Leashself

Walk/Walks/Walks/Walk’s/Walkself

🐩/🐩s/🐩s/🐩’s/🐩self

🐶/🐶s/🐶s/🐶’s/🐶self

🐕/🐕s/🐕s/🐕’s/🐕self

Rabbit Pronouns

Rab/bit/Rabbits/Rabbit’s/Rabbitself

Bunny/Bunnys/Bunnys/Bunny’s/Bunnyself

BunBun/BunBuns/BunBuns/BunBun’s/BunBunself

Carrot/Carrots/Carrots/Carrot’s/Carrotself

Ear/Ears/Ears/Ear’s/Earself

Hare/Hares/Hares/Hare’s/Hareself

Kit/Kits/Kits/Kit’s/Kitself

Hop/Hops/Hops/Hop’s/Hopself

🐰/🐰s/🐰s/🐰’s/🐰self

🐇/🐇s/🐇s/🐇’s/🐇self

Mouse/Rat Pronouns

Rat/Rats/Rats/Rat’s/Ratself

Mouse/Mouses/Mouses/Mouse’s/Mouseself

Squeak/Squeaks/Squeaks/Squeak’s/Squeakself

Cheese/Cheeses/Cheeses/Cheese’s/Cheeself

🐁/🐁s/🐁s/🐁’s/🐁self

🐀/🐀s/🐀s/🐀’s/🐀self

🐭/🐭s/🐭s/🐭’s/🐭self

Bee Pronouns

Bee/Bees/Bees/Bee’s/Beeself

Buzz/Buzzes/Buzzes/Buzz’s/Buzzself

Honey/Honeys/Honeys/Honey’s/Honeyself

Honey/comb/combs/comb’s/Honeycombself

Hive/Hives/Hives/Hive’s/Hiveself

Flower/Flowers/Flowers/Flower’s/Flowerself

Nectar/Nectars/Nectars/Nectar’s/Nectarself

🐝/🐝s/🐝s/🐝’s/🐝self

🌷/🌷s/🌷s/🌷’s/🌷self

💐/💐s/💐s/💐’s/💐self

🌹/🌹s/🌹s/🌹’s/🌹self

🌺/🌺s/🌺s/🌺’ s/🌺self

🌻/🌻s/🌻s/🌻’s/🌻self

🌼/🌼s/🌼s/🌼’s/🌼self

🌸/🌸s/🌸s/🌸’s/🌸self

Nyo ho ho ho~ I hope you enjoyed all these pronouns, eh? You can always request some, have a good day people. ~ 🧸

[merryfortune]

A Thorn in his Paw

Un-Love You Challenge: 03. This cancels out the hurt

Ship: Miyuki/Wolfrun

Fandom: Smile PreCure

Word Count: 1.5k

Tags: Post-Canon, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Synopsis: The Pretty Cures come around to Marchenland a lot to play and whilst the others away, Miyuki gives Wolfrun the (medical) attention he needs when he shows her the thorn in his paw (and maybe the thorn in his heart, too).

   Miyuki knelt down and she assessed Wolfrun’s paw.

   Wolfrun stared at her, his ear twitching as he listened to her sing a song under her breath. It was just some silly song with no real melody, something she was clearly making up as she went along. Her thumb stroked over his paw pads whilst the rest of her hand was a bed for his tiny paw, only looking up when she noticed him wince. First in his paw, with his claws flexing, and then she caught a glimpse of his face, how he turned away from her.

   “Aw, does it hurt, Wolfie?” she asked, sing-song but not mocking. It was a warm voice.

   “Yeah, just a bit…” Wolfrun replied.

   “You’ve got a thorn or something stuck in there, I can tell.” Miyuki observed and she nodded her head. “I can barely see it but it's always the teeny-tiny ones that hurt the most, yeah?”

   “Yeah.” Wolfrun mumbled.

   “Well this girl’s got two opposable thumbs and a pack of nail care stuff on her for emergencies since you never know when a hangnail or something will bother you so don’t worry! I’ll fix you up lickety-split, don’t worry about it.” Miyuki told him. She looked down at him with glittering eyes, “Don’t worry, I’ve got bandaids too! Since I’m always getting to scrapes so that might help as well.”

   Wolfrun snickered but with the way his lips pulled back, it came out tinged with a sardonic snarl. He didn’t like that side of himself anymore. Not since Miyuki had shown him such care and grace despite everything.

   Despite everything…

   He, Akaoni, and Majorina had been welcomed back to Märchenland thanks to the efforts of the Pretty Cure. Despite fighting week in and week out, Cure Happy and the others had come to believe them when they told them that they were in pain because of the ostracisation they faced as villains. Upon learning that, they changed the trajectory of what they considered victory: no longer did they want to clash as foes but rather to meet, in peace, as friends.

   They fought hard against that grain of doing what had always been done - heroes versus villains and all the manipulation in between - and for it, Wolfrun and the others were given a warm welcome back to Märchenland. Sure, there were still some adjusting but believe or not, there had been other fairies who had missed them. Their role in the story as agents of conflict were necessary, even if both sides sometimes took it too far. 

   With Princess Candy in power and the Pretty Cures by her side, they were trying really hard to reintegrate their villains back into their society. They visited often and they had a great time doing it, for the most part. Any group of friends had their spills and blues, they weren’t as horrific as they had been in the past. It was nice.

  Whilst the other Pretty Cures played and frolicked elsewhere, they were having a quiet moment by a tree. All because ickle Wolfie-kins here got a burr in his paw so she stayed behind to play nurse whilst her friends had fun making flower crowns with the Princess and eating as much gourmet food as their bellies could hold. Miyuki, notably the worst by Wolfrun’s standards for being a chaser of leisure and a glutton, had stayed behind. For him. And was doing it all with a smile.

   He stole a glance at her, his breath hitching as he lost all muster and bravado. The big, bad wolf reduced to nothing but a puppy and all because of something as small and insignificant as having a boo-boo in his paw. Ridiculous. He frowned, only for his eyes to go wide as Miyuki brandished her tweezers. She dug around in his paw something awful for that tiny little prick and it was like she was pulling a sword from the stone when she finished.

   “Got it!” she proclaimed. She laughed, bubbly and raucous, totally oblivious to how Wolfrun was howling and recoiling in pain, as she examined the thorn up close and personal. It certainly seemed huge when it was just about touching her eyelashes. “Wow, it did look like a bugger.”

   “Thanks…” Wolfrun replied. Mumbled. 

   “I’m not done yet,” Miyuki brightly rebuked, “I haven’t even kissed it better yet - or put the bandaid on.”

   “What?” Wolfrun sputtered. His arms flailed and his expression was shocked and wild. 

   “Uhh… I said I hadn’t put a bandaid on it?” she replied. She really didn’t get what the big fuss was about.

   “No you, powder puff, the other part!” Wolfrun barked at her, scandalised but there was a strange redness to his icy blue muzzle that didn’t seem to be a sunburn.

   Miyuki was still completely puzzled, she tilted her head and tapped the side of her mouth, “I said that, um, I’d kiss it better?”

   “Why would you say such a thing?” he asked, snarling, eyes wide.

   “Because, um, it’s part of the magic of getting better, I guess. That’s what my mum always told me, at least.” Miyuki replied, sheepish.

   Wolfrun growled. He frowned deeply and there was the hint of his alter ego as a true villain, not just a fairy, in his eyes and it was such a frustrated expression that it wounded Miyuki.

   “What’s the matter, Wolfrun, did I do something wrong?” Miyuki asked.

   “No!” Wolfrun snapped and then again, quieter, with his whole body trembling, his voice on the brink of cracking, “No,” he murmured, “you powder puffs do nothin’ wrong and that’s the thing, ain’t it?” Wolfrun lamented. “Even now, the only reasons other fairies’re nice to us is ‘cause you girlies said to be and I jus’ - I jus’ don’t get it…”

   “Oh, Wolfrun…” Miyuki murmured.

   She giggled on the inside, tickled pink that this Wolfrun was so soft and tiny as she reached out to him and picked him. He didn’t seem to like it but she pet the top of his head to help him relax in her lap. Even scratching behind his ears.

   “Why?” Wolfrun forced out in a growly voice.

   “Why what?” Miyuki asked, feigning ignorance, she just wanted to hear it in his terms, not the ones that she had gone and picked out for him.

   “We caused you- I caused you… so much pain.” Wolfrun said. “I can’t stand how nauseatingly nice you all are because, well, how do I know you're not faking it? That bein’ nice to me - to us - isn’t just some big joke to all you, little girls.”

   “I can promise you, I’m not, truly.” Miyuki assured him, stroking his face. “You told us you were hurting, that you were lashing out because the world hurt you first and I am a deep appreciator of villains, so please believe us and who knows? Once you get used to people being genuinely nice, you won’t be so suspicious. It’s hard, I can tell, but it's worth it, please believe it.”

   “But we - I, especially - hurt you.” Wolfrun replied, his voice all broken up over it and his tiny body quivering with rage. Rage directed at himself, or at the very least his past self.

   “Oh, you poor thing,” Miyuki said and she took his paw that had been punctured by the thorn and lifted it to her lips, a kiss ghosting over the fine fur and she turned it over, kissing it and successfully resisting the impulse to blow a raspberry onto the skin of her paw pad, “I forgive you.”

   Wolfrun snivelled. He didn’t feel worthy of genuine kindness or care. For so long, when he had sought it out, all he would be meant with was cold indifference at best or at worst, he would be outwardly turned away with a vileness that was just beyond his claws. Yet here Miyuki was giving him at that unconditional friendship that he had yearned for out in spades, it made his nose twitch and his eyes water and his heart go weak.

   Miyuki smiled and she reached for the rest of her little, miniature first aid kit. She fished out a bandaid - all prettily coloured in pink and white with a splash of yellow, too - and took off its backing. She pressed it down gently onto Wolfrun’s paw.

   “Here,” she said, “look, see? This cancels out the hurt.”

   Wolfrun sniffed, choking back tears and a lot of slimy mucus. Miyuki just smiled and she wrestled him up in a big hug, rocking him to and fro. Wolfrun squealed and whined and though it started out as a protest, it ended in jest, both of them toppling over and rolling in the soft grass of the shade with Miyu reeling with laughter as well. He needed that. They both did.

   “Aw, kid, look you’ve gone an’ made me soft.” Wolfrun complained, awkward as to where to put his paws now that he was on top of Miyuki. He might have been small but he was still a man and she was still a girl. A girl with superpowers and a pure heart but a girl nonetheless.

   “Good!” Miyuki barked back at him. “I love it a lot when villains are soft.”

   Wolfrun snickered. Maybe he could tolerate it when villains were soft too if it meant having Miyuki for company.

[emwritesfootball]

Sotto Voce: Chapter Five | John McGinn

Word Count: 1,815 Warnings: overheard masturbation, teasing, oral sex (female receiving) A/N: Since this is the last chapter, I just wanna give a HUGE shoutout to @sammisze for encouraging me to actually post this (I wanted to keep it for myself but she made me realize I shouldn't), @meteora-fc for beta-ing this and loving Meatball as much as I do, and @lawsandother for just reading this and telling me how much she loved it before I ever put it out. I hope you've all enjoyed this as much as I loved writing it <3

- - -

John knows something is off the moment he steps through the door on Monday after training. He doesn’t know what it is until he hears voices coming from her end of the house, and he doesn’t think as he follows the noises.

Her bedroom door is open, but he doesn’t go in when he doesn’t see her. The voices seem to be coming from her bathroom and John can’t help but be a little jealous when he thinks she’s got a man with her, until he recognizes the sound of his own voice from one of his audios and his blood runs cold.

He pauses, the muted sound of a vibrator in the bathtub mix with her throaty whimpers and John’s dick twitches. When she moans his name, he doesn’t know what to think - does she actually know it’s him or is she just imagining the man speaking on the audio is him? - but he intends to find out when she comes out.

She hides her surprise well when she sees John lounging on the sofa after she gets out of the bath. She hadn’t heard him come home but she’d sensed his presence while she was having her soak, making sure she’d turned the volume up on TheScottishLad’s audio while she masturbated to his voice. It hadn’t done much for her except leave her more sexually frustrated than before, and she hated that her body craved an orgasm specifically from John at this point.

“Mental health day?” John asks nonchalantly when she emerges from her bedroom in short-shorts and one of his Scotland kits.

She’s acutely aware of how his eyes graze over her body in the outfit she’s chosen, breaking out in goosebumps as a thrill races down her spine and her pussy clenches around nothing. “Yeah.” She takes a seat next to him, and John instinctively moves her so that her legs are laying across his lap. “Sometimes you just need to sleep in, have a bath and a nice wank, ya know?”

John blushes, his ears tinging pink as his grip tightens almost imperceptibly on her knee. “I, uh, I heard.”

“Oh?” She feigns surprise, looking at him innocently. “Sorry - I can get loud sometimes.”

John clears his throat, swallowing hard at her innuendo. “I-It’s okay.”

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough,” he replies, not meeting her eyes.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific, Johnny,” she whispers in his ear, reveling in the power she holds over him right now. “Did you hear me cum?”

His eyes are glazed over with lust and she knows she has him right where she wants him. “I m-might’ve heard you, uh, moan my...name.” His accent is thicker now and there’s no doubt in her mind now that TheScottishLad is him.

“That’s because I was thinking about you when I got myself off,” she murmurs, dragging her nails down his chest. His breathing is ragged and she can feel his heartbeat under her fingertips and it drives her wild.

“You...you were?” He sounds stunned.

“Mmhmm,” she hums, nodding. “Besides...you’re TheScottishLad, aren’t you?”

John pauses, his eyes searching hers. “How did you find out?”

“Oh, Johnny,” she tuts, smirking. “You’ve got to learn to be more subtle.”

“I thought I was,” he pouts, and she resists the urge to lean down and kiss it away - they’re not there yet, even though she desperately wants to be.

“Actually, you were,” she amends, thinking about it. “I just know you too well. It took me a while to figure it out.” She pauses, leaning in. “So...do I get to see where the magic happens?”

“Depends on what you want.”

“I thought I made it pretty clear what I want,” she says, her hand drifting down his torso to cup his erection over his joggers. John’s eyes flutter closed and he lets out a low moan at her touch, the sound going straight to her clit.

“You’re being a tease, love.”

Those are the words she’s been waiting to hear directed at her since the moment he used the phrase in one of his recordings. “What are you gonna do about it?” She challenges, letting out a squeal when he abruptly gets up and drags her to his end of the house.

Her eyes go wide as she takes in the bedroom he’s transformed into his mini-recording studio. To anyone who doesn’t know better, it just looks like an elaborate gaming setup or some Twitch thing; to her, all she can picture is him getting himself off as he speaks, all those audio recordings reminding her exactly what he sounds like doing so.

“Wanna record with me?” He asks, suddenly seeming shy.

“What about the other girl?” She retorts, the jealousy popping back up inexplicably.

“What other girl?”

“The one you record with.” It sounds stupid now that she’s said it out loud, but John doesn’t make her feel stupid for it.

“I don’t have anyone else that I record with,” he explains, stepping towards her until he’s pinned her against the wall. “I always picture you when I make these.”

It’s her turn to be stunned. “R-Really?”

“Really.” He runs a hand up her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. “I’ve wanted you for months now - I’ve just been using these audios as a way for me to take care of some of my more sinful thoughts.”

“Does this mean you wanna tie me up?” She asks, her mind going to his most recent audio.

John smirks. “Guess you’ll just have to find out.”

“So,” she starts, looping her arms around his neck as she pulls him closer, “are you gonna kiss me or not, Johnny?”

He responds by finally capturing her lips in his, and she can’t help moaning into his mouth at how good it feels to finally be able to kiss him the way she’s wanted to for months now. His hands find her hips, pulling her flush against him so she can feel how hard he is for her.

They’re both breathing heavily when the kiss ends, and she knows she’s never been needier in her life, especially now that her body knows John’s going to give her an orgasm. “Are you going to let me record you?” He asks again, his expression serious.

“Yes,” she breathes, nodding. “Now?”

“If you want - or we can wait until-”

“Now. Now is good.”

John smirks. “You know, if we record, you’re going to have to be quiet for me, right?”

“I know.”

“Let me get everything ready.”

When the equipment is all set up, John picks her up and sets her down on the table. His hands reach under her shirt and she gasps when they slide up her bare torso.

“Can’t believe I finally have you like this,” he starts, and she instantly recognizes his recording voice. There are similarities to his normal speaking voice, but the timbre and cadence has changed just enough to be unrecognizable. “Your body feels just like I imagined it would. All those late nights stroking my dick and pretending it was your pussy but now I get to have you like this? Truly mine. Are you going to let me do everything I’ve fantasized about?”

“Y-” she starts to say but remembers she can’t so she just nods.

John visibly softens, tucking a lock of her hair as he leans in. “I can edit this out.” A pause as he switches over to his vocal personality again. “I want your verbal consent, love. Are you going to let me do everything I’ve fantasized about?”

“Yes, John.” She groans, biting down on her bottom lip. “Make me cum so many times I forget my name.”

His grin matches as hers. “With pleasure,” he replies, leaning in for the last kiss before TheScottishLad takes over once again.

“Oh, God, I love your body,” TheScottishLad says as John kisses his way down her neck, his hands sliding up her torso again. “I could spend days touching you and not get tired of you. You’re perfect.”

His words made her melt, and she knew he wasn’t speaking just as TheScottishLad - he was speaking as John McGinn, her friend and now-lover who she now knew had been thinking of her the entire time he’d been making these - and the knowledge made her heart race and her pussy drip.

“Perfect neck,” he continues, kissing his way down to her breasts. “Perfect tits.” More kisses down her stomach as he cups her pussy and she resists the urge to moan. “Perfect pussy. And it’s mine - all mine.”

All she can do is nod, arching her back as she spreads her legs for him. “Let’s get you out of these clothes so I can start making you feel good.”

He takes his time, making sure every sound of him undressing her is captured on audio. When she’s fully undressed, he steps back, his gaze raking appreciatively over her body. She feels so exposed yet so sexy at the same time, and it turns her on more than she thought it would.

“Are you gonna let me taste this juicy pussy?” He asks, kissing his way up from her knees to her thighs as she nods. Her hands find his hair and her hips buck involuntarily, the gasp that leaves her lips when his stubble scrapes over the sensitive skin barely audible. She mouths his name when he finally gets a taste of what’s between her legs. “Mm...addictive. You taste like honey, love, and I’m gonna need all that I can get,” he murmurs, his breath fanning out over her clit and making her walls clench around nothing.

“I’m gonna make you cum on my tongue,” John promises, slipping two fingers inside her slick entrance. “And then I’m gonna make you cum on my cock.” He pauses, placing a sucking kiss to her clit that has her grip in his hair tightening. “And then...I’m just gonna make you cum until you can’t anymore.”

She brings her hand to her mouth, biting down hard on her palm so she doesn’t make a sound when her eyes roll back and her body spasms through that first orgasm.

“Good girl,” he praises as he slides his fingers out of her pussy, smirking as she lets out a breathy whimper both at the loss and the praise. Her eyes lock with his as she watches him suck his fingers clean. “What do you say we take this to the bedroom so I can really make you scream?”

In seconds, he’s flipped off all the recording equipment and saved a copy of their audio for him to edit later. She’s growing impatient, but only because she wants to finally have her way with him. “Done?” When he nods, she takes his hand, leading him to his bedroom. “Good, because it’s my turn now.”

[janeyseymour]

"the wrath of mama seymour- or whatever the hell I’ve been labelled as" -Jane

Jane takes it upon herself to handle some nasty comments one particular account has been leaving the queens.

WC: 3072

For the most part, the queens got rave reviews, and their queendom was full of love and support. Every once in a while though, the queens got some hate, specifically Anna of Cleves and Jane Seymour- the two queens who arguably had it the least bad. While the others got hate sometimes, it was never anything that the queens would deem as true. Some might tell Katherine or Anne that they were “whores”, but the two knew this was not true. History might have depicted them as this, but they lived their lives. They knew they weren’t. Anne had actively tried to reject the king, and Katherine was forced into her situations. What these people had said about Jane and Anna was true- or at least those two thought so.

The fourth queen wasn’t one to put up with the comments. She would openly complain about them to the other queens, and she had even made it a point to call out the hateful comments that she got. Jane Seymour wasn’t like this.

The silver queen, hot-tempered and not so kind in her first life, knew that if she had said anything, it would only fuel the hate comments. So, she stayed quiet about it, letting these comments eat at her slowly.

“You’re responsible for Anne’s death. Don’t you feel even the slightest bit guilty about that? Bitch.”

“We all know the “i’m a kind sweet mum” act is fake. If you’re a bitch, just show it and let us hate you.”

“You don’t even deserve to be in the show. You had it the easiest.”

“The only one he truly loved? He only loved you because you had a son. But that son died before he could even do anything. After you died, you still failed. You don’t deserve to be remembered as queen, and you definitely don’t deserve to be in the likes of the other queens.”

That one hurt. That one comment hurt. The third queen did what she could to let it roll off her shoulders, but to no avail. That comment made her stomach flip.

Still, she did her best to stay kind, finally deciding to put out a video on her Instagram in attempts to stop the hate coming her way.

“Hi queendom. It’s Jane,” she said as sweetly as she could. “I’m here to address something with all of you. As we know, the idea of the queendom is to build others up, not tear them down. Now, I know we all know I say in my song that I’m unbreakable.” She paused, mulling over how she was going to word this. Her tone lowered a bit as she spoke quietly, “But the truth is, I’m not.” Her voice broke a bit as she said this. “I see every comment you all leave. I see every direct message, every private message, all of it. The kind comments are so lovely, and I appreciate them all so much. The not-so-kind comments are few and far between, and for that I’m thankful, but the ones that I do see hurt. I think we all just need a reminder to be kind to one another. Please remember the golden rules we were all taught: treat people the way that you want to be treated. If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. That’s all I have to say for today, but I’ll leave you with this- you are enough. I’m sending you all so much love! Thank you.” She blew a kiss to the phone and waved before turning the camera off. 

Almost immediately, fans started outpouring love to the third queen.

Roseamongstthethorns: i just wanna know who said something mean to jane because we are going to have some words

Sixqueenswalkintoabar: @janeyseymour we love u pls know that

AnnieBoleyn: whos talkin shit on my janey. I’ll fight em for u

Jane rolled her eyes at the green queen’s comment before replying.

JaneySeymour: @annieboleyn, i’m just speaking in general terms. Also, language dear.

AnnieBoleyn: @janeyseymour i say what i want #sorrynotsorry

Catherine_Aragon: you chaotic gremlin @annieboleyn

Jane laughed a bit at what Catherine had commented when she saw a notification pop up. A direct message from the account that had left that one particularly nasty comment.

Stop acting like you don’t talk shit on people. All you did was talk shit on Anne in your last life. That’s what got you the “queenly position” that you clearly didn’t deserve in the first place. Right? Just shut up bitch.

And so, Jane shut up. She ended up deleting her last post where all she did was try to address the issue, something that the other queens did quite often. She almost deleted her entire page accidentally (or not-so-accidentally if you asked the third queen).

“Janey! What are you trying to do: delete your whole account?” Anne teased. 

“N-No,” the silver queen stammered out. “I-I uh, was just trying to delete a post. I guess I just hit the wrong button. Could you show me how?” She feigned confusion. It worked- the blonde was always asking for social media guidance anyway. 

Everyday, this hateful account would send her messages. And every single day, against her better judgement, she opened the messages. The silver queen would roll her eyes and try to go on with her day, but it was affecting her, and the other queens were starting to take notice. 

“Mum?” Katherine tried to get her adoptive mother’s attention. “Are you okay?” She had glanced at Jane, who was staring at her phone with tears in her eyes. 

“Hmm?” The blonde lifted her gaze to the pink haired queen. “Oh.” She blinked away the tears. “I’m just fine dear. Just-”

“Are you having some trouble reading what’s on your screen?” The fifth queen was trying to be helpful. It was known in the house that the blonde wasn’t the most educated when it came to reading and writing. It was also known that Jane sometimes had a hard time reading what was on her screen if she didn’t have her glasses. “Here. I can help you.”

“Oh no, it’s nothing. I just-” The blonde was interrupted when the youngest queen took the phone out of her hand and read over the message on the screen, a horrified look appearing on her face. 

“This fucking account,” Katherine huffed. 

“Kit,” Jane sighed, never one for cursing unless necessary.

“Mum, this is necessary. This account has been harassing all of us.”

“Have they really been?” Jane’s interest piqued. Kat nodded her head. “Interesting.”

Over the next few days, Jane stayed quiet on social media. She saw the tweets and the comments on her “most recent post” asking why she deleted the video of her talking about being kind. Before she made her next move, she had to speak to the other queens. 

“Hey Lina?” Jane asked one night as she was making dinner, the first queen accompanying her. 

“What’s up Jane?”

“Kat told me about this horrid account and how they’ve been sending all of us hate messages. Do you mind if I take a look at what they’ve been sending you?”

“If you want, but you have to promise you won’t go all Mum.”

“I- I can’t promise that, but I’ll do my best.” The Hispanic handed over her phone, the messages already on screen. The first queen knew the exact account she was alluding to.

Queenly my ass. If you were so queenly, Henry wouldn’t have gone through all of the trouble he went through to divorce your sorry ass.

“What the-” 

“It’s really not a big deal mija. Whoever this is, they don’t matter. Just leave it be.”

“Annie?” Jane wandered into the second queen’s room as they were all winding down for bed that night.

“What’s up Janey? Need some makeup remover again?” the green queen laughed as she scrounged her room for the wipes that the third queen asked for every once in a while.

“Actually, no. I bought a big thing of them the other day. I came to ask about something else.”

“Oh. What’s up?” Anne unceremoniously threw herself down on her bed. 

“Kit and Lina were telling me about this awful account that has been-”

“Do you want to see the messages?” The blonde nodded, and the green queen threw her phone at the blonde. 

You deserved to be beheaded, you whore. You should’ve never been queen in the first place, chasing after the king and getting him to divorce Catherine. How does it feel to be so wanted for such a short amount of time before all you were was another body?

“Annie, know that is not true.”

“I know Janey. Why do you think I’ve just ignored it? He’s not worth any of our time anyway.”

“I mean, he’s going right against the entire reason for our show.”

“Yeah, but he’s just not worth it. Don’t go all Mama Bear on him, okay?” Jane shrugged.

“Cleves?” Jane made her way into the kitchen first thing in the morning. “Are you back from your run yet?” She pulled her robe close to her body, muffling a yawn as she reached for the coffee pot.

“Seymour, you’re up early,” the fourth queen noted as she walked in through the back door.

“Well you know we’re both the earliest risers. Anyway, I have a question for you.”

“You wanna see my phone to check for any messages from that one shit account on Instagram?”

“How- how did you know?” Jane sputtered, flabbergasted.

“I heard you talking to Aragon and Boleyn. Here.” Anna tossed the blonde her phone.

“I don’t have my glasses with me. Oh boy.” Jane squinted her eyes to see the text on the phone.

Ugly bitch. How’s it feel following the only queen he truly loved, only to be rejected 6 months later? Shouldn’t even be compared to the other five. No idea how you managed to get yourself into the group, you irrelevant bitch.

“What he said isn’t true Cleves. You earned your place here.”

“What he said isn’t far from the truth Seymour. I know I didn’t have it the worst. I arguably had it the best if we’re being honest.”

“Please don’t let what he said get to you.”

“Hey Cath?” Jane wandered into the writer’s room late at night, two mugs of tea in hand.

“What’s up Jane? Can't sleep?”

“Not really. I’ve had a few things on my mind lately.”

“That account that’s just been shitting on all of us lately?” The sixth queen looked at the blonde knowingly. Jane just nodded.

“Here.” Cathy handed over.

What other stories do you have to claim? How about the one where you allowed your husband to groom Elizabeth, Anne’s precious daughter, and you joined in? Why don’t you reclaim that one, you sick twisted bastard?

“He’s-” Jane started.

“He’s not wrong.”

“Anne’s forgiven you for that.”

“She has, but I’ll never forgive myself. Is there a reason you’re so invested in this one account?”

“They’ve sent some not so kind things to me in the past few days.”

“Hey Kat?” Jane nudged the girl sitting next to her. When she heard a hum, she continued, “Can you tell me what that one account was saying to you?”

“Oh, it’s really nothing far from what other hate messages I’ve gotten.”

“Can I see? Only if you want to show me. You don’t have to of course.” The pink haired queen silently passed her phone over. The blonde adjusted the glasses on her face before she began to read. 

You whore. You deserved to die. And I hope you felt that axe come down on your neck.

“Oh my god.” Jane was disgusted. 

Did you really think you posting a stupid video of yourself speaking about being kind would stop me? It won’t. You six are all terrible women and it’s honestly deplorable that you would paint yourselves to be angels and use your stories to embrace the power of women when you know you have no power. You never did. You were all terrible people in your past lives. There is no way you changed that much in your present life. Worthless bitches. 

To say the blonde was fuming was an understatement.

The next day, Jane went live- something she had never done before. It took her a few tries, but she was able to figure it out without any help from her fellow queens.

“Hello sweet queendom,” Jane said sweetly as she still tried to adjust her camera. “The other queens are out for the day, so I figured I would go live. We’re just going to wait a bit until a few more people get here, but then I have something that I’d like to say.”

The third queen greeted as many fans as she could as they made her way into the live, but she kept her eyes peeled for the one account that was sending them all hatred. As soon as she saw them enter, the warmth and love that had been in her eyes vanished.

“Ah, okay. I think we can get this started.”

Roseamongstthethorns: Why did you delete the video of you telling people to spread kindness?

“Well Rose, that’s actually why you’re all here right now. I have something to say about the hate that the fellow queens and I have been getting. So listen up, because I’m only going to say this once. Do you hear that, instagrammer1549?” She knew she was being ballsy calling out this one particular account, but there were no names attached to the account. She wasn’t doing anything to put this person full of hatred in danger. 

“We can all deal with some of the not so kind comments that are thrown our way. We as queens choose to ignore them and carry on with what we do because we love what we do. We support each other, and we hope that using our voices and sharing a part of our story will help empower other women to share their stories too. We’re all in this together. However, when you start coming at us for things that we couldn’t prevent, like... dying... let’s say, it is absolutely disgusting. Catherine couldn’t prevent being divorced. She handled that situation like a queen, even going as far to get down on her hands and knees and beg Henry to let her know what she did wrong. Anne refused the king for years. I couldn’t help that I died, and I certainly couldn’t help that my son, who you have no right to talk about, was plagued with a sickness that took him much too soon from this earth. You have no right to talk to Anna like that. She was beautiful then, and she is beautiful now. And even if she wasn’t so beautiful on the outside, she is so much more beautiful on the inside than you could ever be. You sending those comments does not help your case much. Katherine was forced into those relationships. She was a mere child, and we all know that children can not consent. How very dare you go and tell a young woman that you hope she felt it as the axe came down on her neck. What kind of, as you called Cathy, “sick, twisted bastard” says something like that to a nineteen year old? And finally, how dare you bring up horrid stories from our past and plague Cathy with the guilt of something that happened almost 500 years ago.”

Sixtudorqueens: okay Jane, go off. We support.

“None of us are perfect. We all know our imperfections, and we’ve all made peace with it. Yes, we all did some very questionable things in our past. What happened then, while we all are horrified at our past behaviors, we have forgiven each other because we know the truth of our story. We did what we had to do to survive. But, the six of us as a group have made such wonderful process in this life, and we are truly coming out of it better than we ever could have by ourselves. Those girls are my family. Say what you want about me. I don’t care. I have a family to help me build myself back up when haters tear me down and my heart is broken. But, so help me god, if I hear of one more person coming after any of our children or my sisters again for something so personal- well,” Jane laughed bitterly. “-quite frankly, you don't want to know what will happen. Keep your disgusting comments to yourself.”

The comment section blew up, and the amount of likes her live was getting was astronomical. 

Sixqueenswalkintoabar: okay mama seymour, GO OFF!

Roseamongsttthethorns: YES JANE. @instagrammer1549, there is a special place in hell for you.

Catherine_Aragon: Jane I thought we talked about not going Mum.

“Lina, I bit my tongue for long enough. It had to be said. On that note,” Jane paused to take a deep breath, the warmth that usually radiated off of her returning. “For the rest of the queendom who has shown us nothing but love and kindness, thank you. We really do see every message, comment and twitt-”

Sixtudorqueens: tweets*

“Tweet,” Jane corrected herself. “So thank you for that kindness. For now, I’m ending this live, but I do hope that you will all remember what I’ve said. Please, only spread kindness. That’s the, as Anne and Kat say, “vibe” that we’ve created for the queendom. If you don’t have anything nice to say, perhaps just don’t say anything at all. Please remember that you have a voice. Please remember to use that voice to spread kindness and love, not hatred. The world already has enough of that in the world. No need to create more.” With that, Jane ended the live.

“So,” Anne bit back a smirk at the dinner table that night.

“We all saw your live Seymour,” Anna bit the bullet and spoke about what they were all thinking.

“Kind of impressed you could figure that out without one of us Mum,” Katherine smiled slightly. “I'm proud of you.”

“What I said had to be said,” Jane affirmed as she took a bite of her dinner. “You don’t come after my family and not feel the wrath of “Mama Seymour” or whatever the hell I’ve been labelled as.”