#i will head canon this as a date until my dying breath

[frommybookbook]

I swear to god, this episode starts with Perry on a date with a Catholic priest. They're having a quiet dinner, just the two of them, candlelight and violin music and the priest is explaining why the Italian language is so romantic to Perry. Of course it gets interrupted by a phone call from the police, but, plot twist!, they need the help of the priest, not Perry!

The priest is a major character throughout the rest of the episode. How Perry knows him is never explained, which is odd. Usually characters like this are introduced as old friends or clients, sometimes an old Navy buddy, but always an explanation of some sort. But there never is one for this guy, they were just having dinner together and then he managed to pull Perry into a murder investigation.

[sixhours]

Chapter 9 - The Ghosts of Babylon

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut and violence Series tags: Joel Miller x You, Joel Miller x Reader, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, LGBTQ+ characters, y/n is bi/pan, y/n is ~45, violence, pregnancy, abortion, medical trauma, emotional trauma, panic attacks, sex work, suicide, smut, slow burn, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, romance, no use of y/n, reader has longish hair, Joel can lift you, smallish age gap (~11 years), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

~*~

The New Year arrives in a swirl of bitter cold and snow. You’ve quietly accepted that you’ll be in Jackson until at least spring; FEDRA has stopped sending all but the most basic touchpoint communications, confirming you’re still alive. The roads between outposts are snowed in; you imagine FEDRA soldiers stationed in the middle of the barren, snow-coated landscape, like statues waiting to thaw.

You’re working at the front desk when Joel shows up in the infirmary, hands in his pockets, looking stoic and lost.

“Miller? Everything okay?”

He clears his throat. “Uh…you said something about an echo…thing.”

You blink up at him, bemused. “That was months ago.”

He scowls. “M’here now.”

You consider turning him away, but the clinic is surprisingly dead. You suspect most of the town is nursing some pretty powerful hangovers this morning.

And then, there’s the orange. The one you haven’t eaten, but is stored in your fridge. The one you take out just to sniff. And now Mr. “Don’t get your hopes up” is standing in front of you looking hopelessly awkward and almost…endearing.

You sigh. “Fine, let’s do it. I’ll get the ultrasound ready.”

He follows you to the back of the clinic as you pull out the ancient machine, plugging it in, waiting for the computer to boot up.

“You’re lucky I don’t have any other patients yet,” you say. “I heard the New Year’s party was a big one. Though I suppose without fireworks, there’s less chance of someone blowing off an arm.”

He grunts in agreement, sitting up on the table.

“Shirt off,” you say. “I can turn around or I can leave, it’s up to you.”

But he’s already unbuttoning his flannel, pulling his undershirt over his head.

“Any shortness of breath? Chest pains?”

He shakes his head.

“Cold,” you say, barely a half-second of warning as you squirt a dollop of lube directly onto his chest. He sucks in a sharp breath.

“Fuck, you weren’t kidding.”

You quirk your lips. “Sorry, bedside manner’s not really my thing.”

The machine’s monitor is fuzzy, forcing you to lean in and squint at the shadows as you move the wand over his chest, pressing in, tilting from side to side to see each of the ventricles, searching for dark spots. The ultrasound speakers scratch out a steady heartbeat.

“83 beats per minute, a bit fast,” you say. “But…contrary to popular belief…you have a heart, Miller.”

“Funny.”

You’ve been moving the wand over his chest for several minutes, watching the rhythmic contractions of muscle and trying to make sense of what you’re seeing given your very basic knowledge of cardiology, when you become aware that he’s watching you intently.

You meet his eyes and the BPM reading on the monitor starts to climb, a persistent throb echoing in the air. He clears his throat with some difficulty.

“So are you, uh…only interested in women?”

“That’s a personal question.”

He shrugs, and you tsk softly. “Don’t move, I’ll lose the picture.”

“Figured we were past the whole small talk thing by now.”

“Ellie’s right. You have no social skills,” you say, biting your lip, leaning in, as though closing the gap by a few inches would make up for the fact that the poor machine is dying.

“Guilty,” he says, but he smiles as he says it, that come-fuck-me glint in his eyes.

“No,” you sigh, sitting back. “I’m not only interested in women.”

“So…are you, uh…free tomorrow night?”

You blink. “Are you asking me on a date, Miller?”

He opens his mouth to deny it but then…doesn’t. You’ve been done with the echo for five minutes, but there’s a sordid pleasure in watching macho-man Joel Miller literally squirm under your hands, half naked and covered in goop, his nervousness pounding out over the thready speakers.

“Because it would be very…unprofessional…to date one of my patients.”

He narrows his eyes, lowering his voice until it’s almost a growl. “But fucking ‘em is fine?”

“Different profession, whole different code of ethics,” you say easily. You turn off the ultrasound and wipe the excess lube off his chest with a clean towel. “Let’s say I can be free. What did you have in mind?”

He shakes his head. “Not tellin’.”

“The man likes a mystery,” you say airily, turning around to shuck your gloves into the trash and wash your hands at the sink. You hear him shrugging on his shirt. His voice comes from over your shoulder, close enough to feel his breath on your neck.

“I’ll be there at nine. Wear somethin’ warm.”

~*~

He shows up at the door with a backpack and a bedroll, dressed like he’s ready for patrol. You’ve done the same, bundled up in flannel-lined jeans, thick wool socks, and the puffy down coat that makes you look like a marshmallow.

“So where are we going?” you ask, following him out into the biting air.

“S’a surprise,” he says.

You eye the travel pack with the bedroll slung over his good shoulder warily. “I don’t like surprises, Miller.”

His lips twitch in amusement but he doesn’t say anything. He takes a left off the main drag and you realize that you’re heading for the stables. He clicks on a flashlight to guide you across the field as you leave the warmly lit center of Jackson.

“Is this a good time to tell you I don’t know how to ride?” you ask.

“Don’t need to,” he says easily. “C’mon.”

He rounds a corner and heads to the back of the stables, where bales of straw lay stacked in a stair-like formation against the wall. Without waiting for you, he starts to climb them.

“I think this flies in the face of sound medical advice for a guy with a busted shoulder,” you call, watching him test the next step, and the next, until he’s standing on the gentle slope of the stable roof.

“My shoulder’s fine. You comin’ or not?”

“Fine,” you say, testing your weight on the first bale. “But I’m not on call. If you break something, I’m not going to fix you.”

“Deal,” he says, reaching out a roughened hand to pull you up.

You walk up the roof, avoiding patches of ice, until you can peer over the edge’s fifteen-foot drop. Joel kneels, unclasping the bedroll and taking a large thermos and two mugs out of his pack. He unfurls the heavy Army-issue sleeping bag and spreads it out, indicating for you to sit, then uncaps the thermos. It releases a thick cloud of fragrant steam.

“Coffee. Real coffee,” he says pointedly, filling and handing you one of the mugs. You take the first sip, and he’s right; it’s infinitely better than the stuff at the mess hall and leagues above your crystallized stash, but you’ll never admit it. You wrap your fingers around the heated ceramic. He reaches over to clink your mugs together in a toast before taking a drink.

“What the hell are we doing up here, Miller?”

He sets down his mug and then lays back on the blanket, pulling you down. Your coffee sloshes over the side of the cup. “Wait–”

“S’time for the show.”

He turns off the flashlight, and for a moment you’re blind, eyes adjusting to the total lack of light. The sensation is so completely disorienting that you feel like you’re falling, and you involuntarily clutch at Joel’s arm to steady yourself.

When your vision returns, you see nothing but stars in an endless arcing dome. The stable roof faces away from the town; no other lights are visible out here. In the sharp stillness of the cold air, you think you can see every pinprick of light in the sky.

“Whoa,” you sigh, your breath temporarily clouding the starry landscape in front of you. Joel’s arm flexes under your hand in quiet acknowledgment. You see a flickering light out of the corner of your eye. Then another, and another. Soon you’re watching dozens of meteors trail across the sky’s black curtain.

“Ellie found this space almanac,” Joel murmurs. “It has all these dates for stuff like this. Quadra…somethin’-or-other.”

“Quadrantids,” you say, pulling from a distant memory. Camping when you were 10, your father pointing out the constellations, your fingers sticky with chocolate and marshmallows as you wished on as many shooting stars as you could see.

You edge closer to Joel’s side, seeking out his warmth but unwilling to take your eyes off the show. You feel him moving around for a minute, hear the zip of his pack opening, and then he drapes another blanket over the both of you, something thick and soft. You pull it to your chin.

“Thanks,” you murmur, willing your teeth not to clack together. “God it’s…beautiful.”

Joel makes a soft sound of agreement.

Your eyes keep trying to watch for more meteors; they flicker in your peripheral vision, always just out of reach until the last second. Eventually, you stop trying, letting your eyes go unfocused so you can see as much of the spectacle before you as possible.

“I used to feel lonely, looking up like this,” you say after a while. “Maybe lonely isn’t the right word; insignificant, I guess. But now…I find it comforting. They’ve been here for billions of years, and they’ll be here long after we’re gone. The world fell apart…and it wasn’t even a blip on the universe’s radar. But we still have the stars.”

“And sheep ranches on the moon,” Joel whispers, and you finally let your eyes drift away from the sky, facing him.

“Sheep ranches?”

“It’s nothin’. Look, ‘nother one,” he says, pointing, and you follow his gaze to a cluster of descending meteors. Your breaths mingle in the crystallized air. You watch until you can’t feel your cheeks, until your arms and legs prickle and go numb. 

The soft sounds of the stable rise up from beneath you; hooves on straw, huffing and shuffling. Suddenly there’s another sound.

Is that giggling?

Joel looks at you as if to confirm you’ve heard it, too. You nod, and he puts a finger to his lips. He rolls over and creeps to the edge of the roof, peering over the side. You follow after a beat, missing his solid warmth beside you.

In the dark you see the faint shadow of a couple–kids, from the sound of it–sneaking into the barn across from the stables.

“Idiots,” Joel says, but in the dim glow you can see he’s smirking. The sounds of little gasps, kissing, more giggles. You can see articles of clothing being removed and you shiver, wondering if you’ll be treating frostbite on some poor kid’s ass tomorrow.

“Should we say something?”

“Depends–is 15 too young to be a baby mama, doc?” And you know he’s thinking of Ellie, wondering who she’s sneaking off to the barn with when he’s not able to watch her.

You don’t tell him that’s unlikely to be a problem.

“Good point. Yeah, let’s break up the fun.”

“Hey!” Joel growls, standing. “You kids get outta there!”

There are muffled gasps, a frantic dash for clothes, a breathy, “ Shit! ”

“ Go !” the girl hisses, and you both watch, chuckling as they scramble away.

“Real ‘get off my lawn’ energy there, old man,” you say, elbowing him gently, tucking your hands under your arms to try to warm them.

He snorts, rubbing his own hands against the thighs of his jeans to brush them off. You meet his eyes in the faint light, holding his gaze for just a touch longer than necessary.

“Walk me home, Miller,” you say finally, tucking your arm under his. “I’m freezing.”

You pass the string lights in the square, the big tree, and the clinic. He’s quiet, almost shy, as you walk up the steps of your porch. You don’t know how to reconcile the man who fucked you up against the kitchen wall with the one standing before you.

As if reading your thoughts, he mumbles, “I haven’t, uh…done this in–”

“I’m pretty sure this is the part where you kiss me goodnight.”

He gives you the faintest smile before leaning in and dropping a chaste peck at the corner of your mouth. Your face has long since gone numb from the biting air, but you feel the warmth of his lips on your skin.

And then he’s backing away, down the steps, down the street, into the darkness…and you wonder what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into.

[resident-mercie]

Carlos Oliveira Fic - Halcyon Days (Chapter 3) (NSFW).

notes: canon violence, infection, no nsfw allusions for this specific chapter, mature themes regardless, perspective switches.

➵ While you should be on the train out of Raccoon City, Carlos has a sinking feeling that not everything has gone to plan.

Chapter 1.

Chapter 2.

You are now reading Chapter 3.

September 29th. 2:47am. An eerie silence, and an overwhelming sense of loneliness, now Carlos had been separated from the one breath of fresh air he’d met during his time stationed here.

“It’s been a while. The subway’s gotta be clear of the city by now, right?” Carlos asked his comrade in a hushed voice, hoping not to raise any attention from the undead.

“What, along with your hot date?” His comrade, Tyrell, scoffed. “Listen man, I wouldn’t get attached to any of the freaks around these parts. I mean, if you’re desperate to get laid, then go for it. But this chick? Won’t be long until she ends up like one of them.”

Carlos felt the anger inside of him rise, his blood becoming scalding hot.

“Shut the fuck up. You don’t know anything about her. Hell, she’s not like anyone I’ve ever met before. I’d rather it be her here with me right now than you.”

“What, so the power of love can save you? Give me a break, Romeo. We’re here on a mission, so keep your head screwed on. This is the police station. You know what we’re here to do.”

My world was spinning. Last thing I knew, everything had faded to black, but the smell of engine smoke was what roused me from my involuntary slumber. Every cell in my body ached with a dull pain, and for a moment, I considered letting the world take me. Only for a moment though, as my promise to Carlos came floating to my mind’s surface.

“Together…”

It was no time to mope around, and no time to die either. I scrambled through what was accessible of the wreckage, desperate to find supplies, more bullets, or maybe even—

“A radio. Could I…?”

With frantic desperation, my hands ran across the radio in a frenzied manner, pleading with everything in me that I could make contact with some of the UBCS members.

“Hello? Does anyone read me? The train with the survivors— it’s derailed—“

“Meu querida? Is that you? What the hell’s happened?”

It was some kind of sick miracle. The voice I had longed to hear, was echoing its way through my last ditch attempt of finding anyone who could save me.

“Carlos! Oh, thank god it’s you! You were right about Nikolai, he locked me out of the only safe carriage. It’s because of him that Mikhail is… Listen, I don’t know where the hell I am, but I really need to find you. I know you had a mission to attend to, but I’m scared. I need you.”

Carlos gripped his radio in hand, his stoicism wavering at the pleading emotion in my voice. Screw Umbrella, and screw Raccoon. So long as he could be with his evacuee, then he could die a happy and contented man. Even if we were to both become infected, and turn in one another’s arms, it would be a far better ending for us both than dying alone on opposite sides of the city, never meeting in the apocalyptic life that supercedes our human one. I was right about Carlos being a sanctuary beyond this hellscape, because even if I could be in his arms just once more, dying didn’t seem so bad. There was nothing to fear when we were unified, even death.

“I need you to get above ground, querida. Tell me where you are, and I’ll come and find you. Whatever you do, fight those bastards off like your life depends on it. I won’t be long, I promise.”

“On my way above ground. I’ll let you know where I am as soon as I can.”

Taking in my surroundings, and nabbing a few more supplies from the wreckage, I soon found my way to the surface, exhausted from undoing a plethora of bolts and shackles to make my way past some of the locked maintenance rooms of the underground.

“Carlos, come in? I’m near some kind of bridge over looking the river. Do you want me to cross it, or—?”

A roaring torrent of water from underneath the bridge abruptly cut me off, and as I watched, frozen in my place, my stomach sank to a completely new depth.

“What the fuck? It’s back?”

“Querida, are you okay? Tell me what’s wrong—“

As much as I craved the reassurance of Carlos, I remembered what he said earlier - to fight like my life depended on it. Yet the creature that had rose from depths, my second encounter with the large amalgamation of flesh, was a presence that threatened my very existence. With just a handgun, any attempts at preserving my life, and taking its, would have been trivial. So, I did the only thing I could.

I dashed across the bridge, frantically leaping across sections of the track where the flooring had fallen through, praying that the creature would be stupid enough to take a misstep and plunge back into the azure depths below me. Whatever the hell this thing was, however, was a creature built for the sake of pursuit.

I ran until it was impossible for me to go any further. I was trapped inside the courtyard of the clock tower, the creature stalking my every move.

“Clock tower. I don’t know how much time I’ll have left.” I sobbed, a hand over my mouth to muffle my cries. With one amalgamated tendril, the creature grabbed ahold of my arm, and before I had time to futilely shoot the creature with my handgun, the world around me faded once more.

“No, no! God fucking damnit!” Carlos shouted, overcome with despair and rage, devastated he couldn’t have made it to the clock tower any earlier. He produced his radio from his breast pocket, seething at rage for both the creature capable of inflicting such harm, and at himself for letting this happen.

I promised to protect her, and now she’s infected. What kind of shit platoon member gets their evacuee in so much danger?

“Tyrell? I need you to come in. It’s my girl. That creature we were warned about, code name nemesis. I— I think it got her. I need to take her to the hospital. See if that Bard guy has any chance of curing her. I need you to meet me there.”

Returning his radio to his breast pocket, he hoisted his infected sweetheart onto his back, a civilian who was unfortunate to meet a fate not too dissimilar from the many others around her.

“Take it easy, querida. I’ll get you cured, even if it’s the last thing I’m able to do for you.”

[dyinglikenarcissus]

Day 2

Luna - prequel

Alpha!Steve Rogers x omega!black female reader

Warning: 18+ only!!! Contains: smut, a/b/o content, scenting, light stalking, cheating, canon level violence, that’s all 👀

Please don’t copy or repost my work, thanks! Plagiarism is rude

Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated ☺️

6k words

Master List

Fuck omegas. He was done with them. They were needy and clingy and required far too much work.

Maybe he’d give Sharron another shot. There was nothing wrong with dating another alpha.

Until he wanted to be on top.

Until they had an argument about who was got their way.

Until he left the seat up one fucking time and she acted like it was a war crime.

No. No more alphas.

Maybe a beta. They could be calm and placid. Willing to go along with anything. Always deferring to his superior authority.

Until they had to make a decision about dinner, or paint, or trips, or anything.

He sighed while watching his ex pack up the last of her things and move back to her sister’s house.

Maybe he just needed to be single for a while…

“It’s supoosed to be warm this evening. We can go play ball in the park. How’s that sound, Steve? Steve? Earth to Steven?” Sam called, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Yo!” Bucky clapped bringing the alpha back to the bar they were currently having drinks in.

“What?” Steve grunts blinking at the brunet across from him.

“Ball? Park? Tonight?”

“Fine.”

“Someone’s been a bit spacey lately,” Natasha smirks into her cocktail while giving him a pointed glance.

“Ever since Peggy broke up with him, he’s been so out of it,” Sam sighs shaking his head in pity.

“It was mutual,” Steve mutters. They agreed that this was for the best. He was tired of her acting like an alpha and she was tired of him being an alpha. It was all just fucked. He sighs taking a sip of his own drink. God, when did it get so hot? “Hey! Can I get another?” He asks flagging down a waitress who quickly nods and scampers off.

“This is the third beer you’ve given up on, Stevie,” Bucky sighs. “You need some pussy and you need it fast.”

“I’m taking a break.”

“Well, it’s been long enough. Time to get back out there.”

Steve just groans and buries his face in his hands.

“Go easy on him. Not all of us can move on like you.” Nat runs her fingers through the blond’s locks, pushing it out of his face. “It’s okay to wait. The right one will find you.”

“Easy for you to say,” Steve grumbles into his hands.

“I’ve lived in thirty countries and I didn’t find Bruce until I moved here,” she retorts sharply.

“So, I need to move?”

“So, you need to stop trying to make something happen,” Sam explains.

Steve just heaves another sigh and lets another beer get warm in front of him.

You take a deep breath of the fresh air that pockets in the middle of the city. It was crisp with the promise of fall but still warm enough to not need a sweater. And the moon was so big and beautiful and bright! It was like daylight out despite it being almost 9.

Perfect.

You close your eyes and hold out your arms as a cool evening breeze rushes past you. This was the best time of year. Halloween stuff was already for sale and you got your costume for your best friend’s annual party.

Absolutely nothing could bring you down.

“Oof!”

Except the wind being knocked out of you. You felt like you just got punched but whatever it was large and round.

You fall butt first to the grass below you gripping whatever hit you square in the stomach.

Tears spring from your eyes before you can even register what is happening.

“Shit!” You hear a distant voice and foot falls against the grass. “Are you okay? That was all my fault!” A deep voice explains while you attempted to access if you were dying.

“You idiot! Why’d you throw that so hard?” A female voice joins the other. “She looks really hurt.” The circular thing is removed from your grip and a hand feels your abdomen.

“Hey, can you talk? Do you need an ambulance?” The softer female voice asks and you instantly take comfort in her and open your eyes. A gorgeous red head swims into view and you cling to her like your life depends on it. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Just sit here for a second,” she soothes, rubbing circles across your back.

“Bucky did you try to kill someone again?” Another deep voice joins the couple.

“I was trying to kill you!” The first masculine voice snaps which leads to incomprehensible bickering.

God, you didn’t mean to cause this much of a commotion. But it really hurts.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, pulling away from the strangers.

“This isn’t your fault at all. It was all my idiot friends’ who decided to play football in the dark.” The red head rolls her eyes before giving you a once over. “Are you alright?”

“I think so,” you mutter touching your stomach. You didn’t feel anything wrong externally at least. “Just knocked the wind out of me.”

“I’ll stay with you for a while just in case,” she assures you. “I’m Natasha.”

You nod and open your mouth to introduce yourself but you’re interrupted. “Hey! I thought we were playing a game!” A tall blond crests a hill and instantly meets your gaze. Thick muscles strain against his polo as he runs a hand through his perfectly done hair. His blue eyes bore into you from so far away but he feels like he’s right in front of you.

Perfect

There you were, huddled on the grass with the moon haloing your head like an angel. Your short skirt bunched around your thighs as you curled against his best friend. Unshed tears shone in your eyes and he instantly wanted to make it all better. He can practically feel the sparks flying around the two of you.

Perfect.

“Wha-what happened?” He stutters, never letting you out his sight.

He’s never once stuttered in his life.

“Bucky tried to add another victim to his list.”

“I didn’t not! Fuck you, Sam!”

But the blond ignores all of it. He stops right in front of you and kneels to assess the situation. “Are you alright?” You nod. He extends his hand and you quickly take it.

Oh. Shit.

You can feel the electricity sparking off of him as his ocean eyes stare into yours.

You could swim in them. You want to swim in them. You want them to never let you go. You never want him to let you go.

You feel like you’ve been staring a little too long but why would you stop?

“Maybe you should ask her to get some coffee,” Natasha prompts.

“Yeah,” you both answer before he blinks and knocks you out of your trance.

“I mean, do you want to get some coffee?” He actually asks you.

“Yeah,” you sigh again before remembering yourself. “I mean, no! No! I can’t I’m sorry. I have a boyfriend.”

Steve’s world crashes around him at those words.

“A boyfriend?” His eyes narrow are he repeats the words like they taste like vinegar.

You nod adamantly thinking of the man who you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with.

Until you met the man before you.

No! Temptations come and go! You need to be strong. You can’t just be the typical omega fleeting from alpha to alpha until one ties you down.

“Who’s this boyfriend?” Steve growls.

“Hey, calm down. We don’t even know her name,” Natasha mediates, placing a hand on Steve’s chest to back off. “This is Steve, and Sam, and Bucky.” Natasha rattles off pointing at the respective men. You introduce yourself calmly, smiling tentatively at the group.

“I’m sorry again for that,” Bucky repeats sheepishly.

“It’s okay. I feel better already,” you assure him and let Natasha help you stand. “Um, I should go,” you mutter. “I’m sorry again to get in the middle of your game.”

“Stop apologizing. It was our fault,” Sam insists. “It was nice to meet you. Hopefully we’ll see you around.” You smile and nod and wave as you walk away but you can’t help but feel a lingering gaze on you as you head back to the subway station. You can’t shake it. So you turn and catch Steve continuing to watch you as you walk away.

Your gaze meets once more and you whimper, longing for his touch again. To stare into those beautiful eyes. God, his hands would feel amazing on your body. Squeezing your breasts, spanking you, holding your thighs apart while he-

Your phone vibrates in your pocket interrupting your horny thoughts.

“Lee!” You smile answering your boyfriend’s call.

“Hey, baby. How you holding up?”

“Um, I’m fine?” You laugh, not sure how to answer.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just a weird day.”

“Hmmm,” Lee hums on the other end. “Well, get home so I know you’re safe.”

“You’re not-“

“No, baby, gotta work late again.”

“Oh,” you frown.

“I know. I’m sorry. Can I make it up to you? Take you to a nice dinner this weekend?” You didn’t really want dinner. You wanted your boyfriend.

“Okay,” you sigh.

“Cheer up. Someone’s gotta pay the mortgage. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” You hang up much more melancholy than you started. It’s been like this for months. You wished you could just move somewhere cheaper so he wouldn’t have to work like this.

But he took care of all the finances. You weren’t really in a position to argue about it.

You wish he had time to play football in the park with his friends…

You turn back to where the quartet were holding their game and find Bucky and Sam tossing their football back and forth, Natasha laying back in the grass watching them.

And Steve, leaning against a tree, staring back at you.

Waiting for you to turn back.

But you can’t.

You happily place a plate of food in front of Lee after spending the day making his favorite pot roast and German chocolate cake.

“Thank you, baby,” he sighs and accepts a kiss to his stubbled cheek. You smile and inhale his content scent and frown. Leather and sandalwood and…berries?

You started smelling it on him months ago but it was faint you could hardly detect it.

But today…

Maybe your nose was off. You spent so much time in the kitchen you were just smelling things.

“This looks delicious but carrots?”

“I thought you liked carrots?” He grips your thigh under the table before digging into his food. You sigh softly before picking at your own plate.

“Tastes even better than it looks. No carrots next time.”

“I’ll do better but I’m glad you like it,” you whisper. You thought he liked carrots.

Your phone buzzes next to you and you glance down to unlock it.

Hey! We’re going out for Sam’s birthday Saturday. Howling’ Commandos at 6?

You smile at the text. Natasha was quick to find you on Instagram after your run in. She claimed it was to make sure you were okay.

But you knew it was for Steve.

This was the third event she’d invited you to and this was the third time you’d have to turn her down.

If you keep the temptation away, you won’t be tempted.

Besides, you and Lee were going to the movies.

As long as he wasn’t stuck at work for the evening. He had a lot of nights to make up for.

A lot of nights imaging Steve’s big arms wrapped around your middle. A lot of time pretending to be asleep while you had visions of Steve thrusting into you, marking you, claiming you. A lot of time rubbing your clit while chewing your bottom lip to keep yourself quiet while images of a tall blond dance in your head.

But Lee promised you this time.

Promised to spend more time with you. Promised to fuck you more.

Promised to love your more.

You smile up at your boyfriend before finally getting into your food.

And then Saturday came.

You spent all day getting dolled up. Got new lingerie in his favorite color to surprise him when he got home. Put on his favorite perfume so maybe he’d be more enticed to touch you.

And then your phone vibrates.

You’re gonna hate me but I’m stuck at the office again-

You toss your phone at the bed before you can even finish reading the words.

You cry in frustration as tears sting your eyes. You do hate him! You hate him so fucking much! He’s probably out fucking some other bitch because he’s tired of you.

And you’re tired of him.

So tired of being the perfect housewife to a man that won’t even marry you. Let alone mate you. Tired of cooking and cleaning and keeping up appearances for someone who hasn’t touched you in months.

Just tired.

You let out a soft sob, falling onto the bed to bury your face in your knees.

You hate this so much.

Quiet tears fall from your eyes.

You snag your phone and price out flights back home. You don’t have any money. You don’t even have a job. Lee’s always taken care of you. You don’t have anywhere else you can go besides back home.

Then your phone pings with a reminder:

It will take you 30 mins to get to Howlin’ Commandos if you leave now.

What?

Sam’s birthday! You thought you told her no but you go back to your messages to see you never replied.

Should I bring anything? You reply and the little typing bubble appear shockingly fast.

Nope. Just yourself

Thirty minutes later, you stand in front of a trendy gastro pub with people pouring in and out. You touched up your make up and put everything you cared about in a duffel bag under your bed before heading out of the life you’d become so accustomed to.

“Um, hi. I’m here for, uh, Sam Wilson’s party?” You ask the hostess but before she can respond a familiar voice calls your name.

“You made it?” Bucky laughs approaching you from the bar. “You have no idea how happy Steve is going to be to see you.”

“Oh! Um, I just-“ but you don’t get a chance to finish your explanation as to why you’re there when he sees Nat looking expectantly out the pub’s windows.

“Nat! She’s here!”

The red head gives you a relieved look and hugs you in greeting. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you. Steve won’t shut up about you.”

“Is this ‘luna’?” A dark haired beta with glasses asks approaching the red head and placing a hand on her lower back.

“Sure is,” Nat laughs. “This is my fiancé, Bruce. Come on. We have a private room.” You follow them to a sparsely decorated area with low tables and fluffy couches.

“Guys! You shouldn’t have!” Sam laughs seeing you. “This is probably the best birthday gift I could’ve asked for. How you doing, girl?” He greets pulling you into a light hug. “Please tell me you ditched that boyfriend of yours.”

“I-“

“Luna?” Just his voice sends a shiver of want through you. There are so many people in this little back room but they all disappear leaving you and Steve.

You step up to him and he cups your face in his big hands. You nuzzle into his touch and he smiles.

He takes in a long awaited smell of you and shutters in pleasure. But there’s something else…

“You’re still with him?” You open your mouth to respond but Steve presses a finger to your lips. “Forget about him. Just for tonight.”

The request gives you pause. You’ve never imagined yourself cheating on Lee. You’ve always been a very loyal person. The perfect omega.

But you couldn’t fight this anymore.

You nod and smile and let him lead you to the bar for a drink.

You order a cocktail and Steve gets a beer.

“I can’t lie. I’ve been stalking you since Nat found your Insta.” You giggle. You can’t help but be a little flattered.

“And? What’d you find out?”

“You went to a state school, you love foxes and monkeys for some reason, you spend a lot of time cooking. It looks like you’re an amazing cook.”

“I studied food science,” you whisper.

“You’re shitting me?” Steve laughs. “I love food!” You can’t help the laugh that burst from you at his comment.

“Well, you seem to know all there is to know about me. What about you?”

“Served for 15 years, went back to school to be a commercial pilot, hated it and became an artist.”

“An artist?” You would’ve never guessed it from looking at this big, muscular, put together, alpha.

“I’ve got some surprises, too,” he smirks and tucks a wild braid behind your ear but his hand doesn’t leave the side of your face. “I’m glad you decided to come out, luna.”

“Luna?” You ask closing your eyes and leaning into his touch.

“That night we met, there was a full moon. I thought it was a sign.” You just hum and take a sip of your cocktail. Steve’s hand grips your thigh and you instantly feel a shutter run right up to your core.

He takes another deep breath of you before smirking.

Can he smell that, too?

You instantly shy away, hiding behind your glass.

“How’s it going over here, lovebirds?” Bucky grins waving down the bartender.

“We’re not-“ you start but give up when Steve’s hand creeps higher up your thigh and a new wave a slick soaks your panties. “Never mind,” you laugh.

“They brought out food if you’re hungry,” Bucky informs you and orders another beer.

“Food?” Steve asks, his fingers inching higher to brush the hem of your short skirt. You nod just to be released from his searing touch but he doesn’t let go. He keeps a hand at the small of your back, he grips your waist, he holds your hand.

He treats you like you’re his.

You want to be his.

You think your breaking point is when he pulls you into his lap on one of the low couches. The party’s in full swing at this point. No one is paying attention to you. They’ve either partnered up and are dancing or eating in groups. Laughing, chatting, enjoying themselves. It’s easy to fit in with this group. They’re nice. You’re comfortable.

But you still have a boyfriend.

“Hey, I told you to forget about him,” Steve insists, directing your gaze to meet his when that sad look crosses your features again.

“But I-“

“Why did you come out tonight?” Steve finally asks, one hand explores your hip while the other grips your waist.

“I-I…” I want to be with you? I can’t stay with him any longer? I need you? “I can’t get you out of my mind,” you breathe. Your fingers spray across his chest. So many muscles. He feels like he can protect you so much more than Lee. Like he would protect you from anything. You finally hazard to scent him. Spicy and fresh. Like fall.

You love it.

“Can I ask you something?” The hand on your hip cups your cheek, holding your attention. “When you met him, did you feel anything?”

Did you? You were so young then. He was still in the academy and you were still deciding where to go to school. You remember your parents loving him. You remember him being a safe choice. You remember your father telling you to behave for him because he was a good man. You remember your mother telling you that not every mating was for love. You remember a lot of broken promises.

But you don’t remember feeling anything.

A tear slips from your eyes but Steve is right there to catch it. He kisses it away.

And then he kisses you.

Oh God, does he kiss you.

You moan against his lips as he presses with just the right amount of pressure, cupping the back of your head to support your neck, gripping your waist to pull you closer.

You want to be closer.

Your hands grip his shoulders, holding him closer, feeling those corded muscles relax under your touch.

He pulls away only once you start gasping for air leaving you to chase his lips.

“What do I have to do to have you?”

You just shake your head and laugh in frustration. Lee probably wouldn’t let you go without a fight.

But you would happily leave him for Steve.

“You can have me.”

“And the boyfriend?”

“What boyfriend?” Steve chuckles and you press another kiss to his lips.

“I am so good,” Natasha sighs watching you and Steve make out like no one else exists.

“All you did was get them in a room together. Their hormones did the rest,” Sam laughs squeezing her shoulders.

“More than you two did,” she smirks at the two alphas flanking her.

“When are you going to find me a date?” Sam asks.

“Ask Bucky. He’s gotta try to kill ‘em first.”

“I didn’t fucking-agh! Whatever!” Bucky groans in frustration, throwing his hands in the air.

“He did try to kill me, didn’t he?” Bruce laughs, wrapping his arms around Natasha’s waist.

“I hate you guys,” Bucky grumbles crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“And we love you,” Sam grins pinching his cheek leaving Bucky to swat him off.

“I’ll take you home,” Steve offers much later that evening after you’ve had far more to drink than you should have but you were having so much fun. More fun than you’d had in years.

But the last place you wanted to go was home.

Steve was quick to sense the change in your demeanor.

“Can you go home?” He asks rubbing his thumb over the back over your hand.

“I don’t know,” you whisper thinking back to your duffle under the bed. Lee would come home expecting his dinner and you weren’t there. Then again, he hadn’t texted or called.

Maybe he was still at work…

But you couldn’t see him like this, smelling like another alpha. Steve’s scent would linger on you for days no matter how hard you scrubbed.

“You can stay with me,” Steve offers so easily.

“What? No, no, I can’t impose upon you like that.”

“Of course you can. I’m going to mate you the second you go into heat. Might as well get a head start.” You’ve never met someone so sure of themselves. He wants you. No one else.

Lee would never say that.

“Do you need to pick up some stuff? Toothpaste? Moisturizer? There’s a Walgreens on the way to my place,” he offers.

“C-can I stop by home and just get my stuff?”

“Are you sure?”

“To be honest, I kind of planned on leaving after today. Going back to my parents. Lee would kill me if he knew I was out this late with another alpha.”

“Then there’s no way in hell I’m letting you go back there alone,” Steve sighs just as the valet drops off a blue Bugatti. He opens both doors and drops the keys in Steve’s hand. “Come on. We can talk on the way.”

“This is you?” You ask skeptically.

“Yes,” Steve laughs, tugging you along.

“I thought you were an artist.” You thought they struggled.

���I put out some pretty stand out pieces when I started out. I’ve done well for myself,” smirks.

Wow. And you thought Lee’s Cadillac was fancy.

“I’ll show you the Phantom when we get to my place,” Steve promises as you take a seat in the low vehicle and he closes the door after you.

You’re close to tears as you recount the moments since you met Steve a month ago. The neglect and the yearning all come back to the forefront of your mind by the time you pull up to the place you’ve called home for the past 5 years.

Lee normally parked his patrol car in the driveway but it was empty leading you to believe he still wasn’t home.

“Come on. Let’s get this over with,” Steve sighs eyeing the house with detest.

“You’re coming, too?”

“What if he comes home?”

He’s got a point. You unlock the door and lead him into the dark house.

“He’s a cop?” Steve asks seeing the photo of the two of you from when he got sworn in at the entry way.

“Yeah. Well, a commander now,” you call from the stairs as you run up to get your bag. “Okay. I’m ready,” you huff from the run and attempt to tug Steve back out the door when you hear a very familiar car honk outside. “Shit,” you whisper.

“A commander? And he’s working all these late hours?”

“Steve, not now! If we go through the back, he won’t see us.” You attempt to tug his hand but he doesn’t budge.

“Luna, he’s cheating on you.”

He says it so simply. You’ve suspected it but you could never say it out loud. Tears start to form in your eyes again just as the front door opens.

You’re pretty sure you’re having a panic attack as you gasp for air seeing Lee’s silhouette fill the door frame.

Then their eyes meet and you feel like you’ll pass out.

Lee glances between you and the stranger before placing his hands on his hips. “The fuck are you?”

“Steve Rogers,” Steve frowns at the opposition staring him down. “I’m taking her with me and you’re staying the hell away from her.”

“Fine,” Lee scoffs. “She’s fucking worthless. Not even a good screw. I would’ve broken up with her months ago but she’s so fucking pathetic-“

“Enough,” Steve barks. “As long as we have an understanding.”

“I took care of you. And you think I’m worthless?” You whisper. “I made all of your favorite meals, I kept your house clean, I took your car in for services. That didn’t mean anything?”

“Oh, baby doll-“

“Don’t ‘baby doll’ me, Lee!” You snap. “Don’t…please.”

“‘Please’?” Lee laughs. “And that’s why I call her pathetic. Can’t stick up for herself against an ant. I hope you know what you’re getting into with her. Saddest omega bitch I’ve ever met.” He’s never spoken like this to you.

“Can we leave?” You beg.

Steve gives him a disapproving once over. “Apologize to her.”

“No, please. It’s fine. Let’s just go?” But Steve continues to stand his ground making you more scared of Lee’s retaliation.

“See? She said it’s fine. Steve, right? Trust me, you don’t want her. I’ll send her back to her folks and we’ll call it a day.”

“I told you to apologize,” Steve says simply. “I won’t ask again.”

Lee’s gaze lands on you with a scowl. “You wanna run off with some new blond bimbo? Go ahead. Get the fuck out of my house. But I promise you, no one’s going to take care of you like I did. No one’s going to let you fuck off at home while he works all day. Jack off to another man. Moan his name in your sleep.”

“What about you?” You cry finally finding your voice again. “What about coming home every night smelling like another woman? What about leaving me alone every day? What about all the promised dates and trips that never happened? What about that, Lee?”

“Oh, shut up, you whiny little bitch.”

Steve lets out an exasperated sigh. “I warned you.” It all happens so fast. One second Lee is standing in the doorway, the next he’s on the floor holding his cheek. You let out soft cry covering you mouth with your hands. Steve stands over him, bending down to his level, as calm as ever. “You wanna apologize now?”

“Fuck you,” Lee spits, his fiery gaze turning on you once more. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I even asked you out in the first place.”

“Please, Steve,” you whimper.

“Pathetic excuse for an alpha,” Steve growls. “Come on.” He shoulders your duffle bag and leads you back out to his car.

“Spoiled little bitch,” Lee barks at you as Steve leads you past him.

That’s it!

You round back on him and slap his other cheek with everything you have.

“I’m not a bitch! And I deserve better.”

“That’s my girl, luna,” Steve laughs. “Come on. Let’s go home.” You nod and take his hand and let him lead you out of this terrible life.

“Date night!” Steve announces in a comedically deep voice as he steps into your room.

“Date night!” You giggle spinning for him.

“You look amazing.” You glance away shyly at his words. “You know you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, right? My little moon goddess. My perfect girl.”

“Stevie,” you laugh.

“Come here.” He pinches your chin and pulls you into a deep kiss that makes you feel a little feint. His big hand grips your ass before spanking it and making you squirm in his grip.

It’s been about a month since you moved in with Steve. You got your own room in his massive home. He has a maid and a chef. You never have to lift a finger if you don’t want to. It feels a little wrong but he just reminds you that this was his life before he met you and you should reap the benefits. You still find yourself making him meals every once in a while and shadowing his chef in the kitchen and learning things from him you never learned in school.

It was nice. Peaceful. Fun.

And Steve never pressured you into anything. He understood that suddenly moving into a brand new situation after being in one place for so long was stressful. He gave you space but always made himself available. It took about a week but you finally wondered into his room late one evening just to talk. You ended up falling asleep in his bed and it started a bit of a ritual. One of you would go to the other’s room at night just to talk and cuddle, discuss your day, share your dreams and goals.

One evening Steve asked if you’d like to go bowling after you told him you’ve never been. It was the start of regular date nights. Sometimes you’d go on picnics at the pier or in the park. Sometimes he’d take you to fancy high end restaurants. And sometimes you’d just hang out at Sam and Bucky’s place with Natasha and Bruce and play video games.

But tonight was special. You were finally ready. You didn’t stop taking your suppressants yet but you were ready to get serious. It was a full moon and Steve was taking you to the park where you first met because it ‘felt right’. That’s all you know, though. He had it all planned out. He told you to wear something nice and warm and that was it.

“God, I don’t wanna leave the house. I just wanna keep kissing you.” You giggle and reach up to card his fingers through his hair. He purrs at your touch, surprising you. An alpha has never purred for you. You chirp happily in response. This was the first time you’ve ever chirped for an alpha. “We gotta go. I can’t be trusted alone with you.” You laugh as he tugs you from the room.

When your Uber arrives at the park, there’s a horse drawn carriage waiting for you.

“Stevie!” You gasp seeing the white horses. “They’re beautiful!”

“Only the best for my luna,” Steve insists.

This is amazing. You’ve seen these horse drawn carriages riding around the park with happy couples before but you’ve never had the chance to enjoy one yourself. You don’t even remember telling Steve about this.

“How did you know?”

Steve laughs and helps you into the carriage and gets you settled under a thick wool blanket. “You were half asleep one night and I asked you what your dream date would be. You told me a moonlit carriage ride through the park then a roller coaster ride and a giant cotton candy. I’m sorry the theme park is closed for the winter but I did manage to get some cotton candy.” He pulls out a large confection box full of colorful cotton candy.

“Steve!” You cry and press kisses across his face. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Steve laughs and kisses you back. “That’s all I wanted to hear. I love you so, so much. I just want to give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Steve grins and rests his forehead against yours. His noes brushes yours, nudging your face just enough to brush his lips against yours. Your fingers find his thigh beneath the blanket, pressing yourself up to get closer, to feel him more. You just want more. Maybe you shouldn’t have even left home. His big hands grip your waist, feeling your body, squeezing you so perfectly.

“I had a whole dinner planned but I just want to get you back home,” Steve mutters against your lips. You can only moan in response as his kisses travel down your jaw to nibble on your throat.

“Let’s get it to go,” you suggest and he growls in delight.

Your food is forgotten on the kitchen counter. No one even bothered to turn the lights on. The two of you went straight to Steve’s room to rip each other’s clothes off.

“You’re really big,” you laugh nervously when Steve reveals his giant leaking cock. His big hands travel up your naked body to cover you in him.

“It’ll fit,” he murmurs sucking kisses along the curve of your breast. You can’t help but agree when he’s making you feel so good.

Then you feel his finger connect with your clit making you cry out and buck against him. “That sensitive?” He chuckles. “God, you haven’t been touched in far too long.” His fingers grind against you and you’re sure you’ll cum in seconds. “You know, luna, I’m fucking starving. Famished. And I pretty sure there’s only one thing that can satisfy me.”

You open your mouth to suggest the two of you go back downstairs to eat but then you feel him.

“Steve!” You scream looking down to see his lips latched around your clit. Oh God, oh God, oh God, please, please, “Please, Stevie!” You whine already that close. Already feeling that knot inside you start to fray. His blue eyes connect with yours and it’s like he’s telling you he’s going to get you there.

Like it’s his entire life’s mission to pleasure you.

Your brow furrows trying to hold it back but you aren’t strong enough. Your core finally releases but he doesn’t stop. He keeps sucking until you feel raw and whiny and like something else is ready to burst out and fuck! You scream Steve’s name as you claw at the sheets so hard they tear under your nails.

“Good girl. Squirting so much for your alpha,” he coos, taking little licks of your core. Your breaths are shaky as he bumps your clit a couple of times with his nose, just to make sure you're completely under his control. To make sure you’re overstimulated and susceptible to his touch.

His kisses and licks follow the curve of your stomach back up to your nipples and your collarbone.

“I need in you,” he husks into you skin. His spicy scent getting more and more heady every second. Like fire and fresh rain. You’re already addicted to it.

You need it on you. In you. You need every alpha to know you’re his.

“Please fuck me, alpha,” you breathe. “Need you.”

“I’m right here. Gonna give it to you, luna.” He presses his lips to yours, nipping at you bottom lip, forcing you to gasp and open your mouth for him. His tongue tastes yours, licking the flavor of your core against your taste buds.

“Open up for me,” Steve mumbles into you mouth pressing a hand against your inner thigh. You spread your legs as much as you can to allow for his girth but he presses them a little wider before you feel his swollen head probe your slit. You steel yourself for the intrusion, squeezing your eyes shut and clenching before he can even get inside of you.

“Hey. Look at me.” You slowly open your eyes to stare in those deep pools. “I need you to relax for me. Breathe.” You listen and take a deep breath. “One more,” Steve encourages and half way through your inhale, he spears into you. You gasp sharply and let out a soft whine. Your nails claw at his hip and shoulder for anything to anchor you. “Luna. Did I tell you to stop looking at me?” He scolds

“N-no,” you whimper as you force yourself to look at him once more.

He pulls out a little and thrusts deeper making you cry out again but you wanna be his good girl so you keep watching him. Another deeper thrust has your pussy fluttering as it’s stretched beyond anything you’ve felt before.

“You’re doing so good for me, luna. So perfect,” Steve assures you. He groans softly, pushing your body that little bit further. You were so tight. So perfect. All the little moans and whines you were making were music to his ears. He presses his forehead to yours as he works his large cock into your tight core.

“Fuck,” he finally groans when he bottoms out. The whimpers you're making are making him lose control but he has to get you used to him first. He has to let you adjust. You're so small and vulnerable and perfect. He doesn’t want to hurt you.

But he has to make sure you can handle him.

“Calm down, luna. Relax for me. You’re squeezing the shit out of me. I need you to be comfortable.”

You nod, at least you think you nod, and take deep breaths but he’s so big and he’s taking up so much space inside of you.

“You wanna scream? You wanna cry? If you think it’ll help, go ahead.” You laugh despite everything making him smile and press a kiss to your lips and your cheeks and your nose while tickling your side making you giggle. “There you go. Good girl. So fucking good for me,” he grunts rocking his hips against yours and your laughter quickly turns into moans. Your legs hook around his hips, trapping him, keeping him close. He feels so good inside you, so heavy, so right.

Your hips rut into his, chasing the high that felt so close.

Then he grips your hips and changes angles hitting something deep inside you that you didn’t even know existed.

You let out a feral scream arching off the bed. “There it is,” Steve smirks against you throat, nose nuzzling your scent gland as he takes unabashed whiff of you. “Fuck, you smell good,” he groans and lifts your hips a little higher, grinding into that spot. Your vision starts to get spotty as the knot inside you gets higher and tighter. “No more suppressants, little moon. I want you. All of you,” Steve instructs. “I want to mark you. Claim you. Fill you with my pups. Fuck, you’d look so beautiful round with my babies.”

“Yes, Steve! Yes!” You cry at his words and his movements. It’s all so much. “Make me yours, alpha! Please! I need it!” You beg, tears starting to sting your eyes as you cling to him. “So close, so so close,” you chant into his shoulder.

“You’re mine, omega!”

“Yes! I’m yours! Alpha! Please! I’m yours!” Anything to get there. Anything.

“Hhhhaaaaa!” You gasp as you cum around him and his strokes slow to a gentle wave letting you ride out your high.

“Alpha, Stevie, please,” you whimper as your hip jerk sporadically against his as you start to come down.

“You’re alright, little omega,” he assures you, brushing your braids from your face. “Relax. That was a big one.” You nod attempting to lie back on the pillows.

“You need a break?” Steve smirks resting his elbows around your head to hold up his weight.

“No!” You shake your head adamantly. “You haven’t-haven’t…”

“I haven’t cum?”

You nod shyly meeting his beautiful eyes once more.

“Oh, luna. My sweet little luna.” He glances down quickly at your lips before pressing a quick kiss to them. “We have all night.”

Master List

[typicalarkhamknight]

TLOU PART III PROLOGUE P.T 1 (not canon, just fanfiction)

Since it is confirmed that TLOU PART III will definitely happen by Neil, I couldn't wait any longer and wrote something for myself. Again, this isn't canon and it's only for fun. This is just prologue, basically shows a big sister during outbreak with her little brother.

Outbreak Day.

"C'mon! The movie's starting." "Hold on sis! I gotta grab my snack." "Well hurry up! I was waiting for this too long before it came out!" "Alright alright!" The big sister sees her little brother sitting on the couch with her, ready to watch the new movie 'Dawn of the Wolf; part 2'. She is such a big fan of this movie. Until they heard someone from outside. "What's that?" "I'll check it out." The big sister walked to the kitchen, seeing someone standing alone in their backyard. "Hello? Hellooo? Is someone there? Hey.. oh- OH MY GOD—"

...

Children were screaming, people were running, burning, dying. At this point, this is just hell tonight. The little boy was hiding inside a closet with his big sister. Her hand covering his mouth for dear life to not make a sound or else the woman finds them. Her hand clutching tightly on the handle of the pocket knife, ready to strike the woman down if it manages to find them both. It was crazy, first they were having a movie night while their parents were out on a date, and then a crazy woman who looked unhinged came ramming through the door window, screaming with pure agony and rapidly punching the glass, scaring the two of them and here they are.

The little boy's breath hitched at the sound of a loud thud coming from the locked door. "Stay quiet, Ethan." The big sister whispered nervously. The hand that was holding the pocket knife was shaking so badly, the woman that was banging through their door sounded like she's almost succeeding. "Be ready.." She says to Ethan with a loud whisper before the door began breaking down by the woman.

THUD!

The woman entered the room, it's body constantly twitching and shaking. Looked around the room while the victims she was seeking were in the closet, breathing heavily and is shitting themselves due to the sounds the woman makes. The woman began walking over to the exit of the room, finally abandoning the search when it seemed like an eternity.

Until the little brother let out a little cry due to being so scared.

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHGHHGHH-

The woman screamed at the closet, began running towards the closet before the big sister opened the closet doors and stabbed the woman in the head. She rapidly starts pulling her pocket knife back and struck the woman's brains again. Over and over again to make sure it's really dead. Blood spilling all over the floor and parts of her brains splattered out by the big sister.

"A-Anna.." Ethan said with so much stutter. Almost puked after seeing the gore that he witnessed.

[kazoosandfannypacks]

"It Now Belongs To You" by kazoosandfannypacks

Chapter 10/10: But With This Ring, It Now Belongs To You

Pairing: CaptainSwan

Rating: T

Word Count: (931/10.6K)

Summary: When Emma and Killian receive a pair of magic beans as a wedding gift, they take a voyage on the Jolly Roger for their honeymoon- but a wrench is thrown into their romantic getaway when they run into a notorious pirate who's staked a claim on the Jolly Roger.

Chapter Summary: Killian gets to the heart of why Emma's plan distressed him so much, but she reassures him that, while she understands his fear, neither of them have anything to be afraid of.

Tags: post-canon, canon compliant, fluff, no smut, suggestive themes, alcohol, gambling, self indulgent fluff with a sprinkling of angst

Author's notes: And that's all, folks! This has been the first fic that I've posted in the weekly serial update format, and I've enjoyed it! You guys' comments have been the highlight of my week; I treasure each and every one of you!

Next week I'll begin posting a somewhat anticipated Captain Swan fake dating canon divergent fic. I'll be posting a new chapter every Wednesday up until this summer, so be sure to stick around for it!

Taglist: @zahara @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @booksteaandtoomuchtv @jrob64 @tiganasummertree @anmylica @teamhook @undercaffinatednightmare @gingerchangeling @lonelyspectator @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @cs-rylie [if you'd like to be added to or removed from this list, hmu in my dms or askbox!]

Also on Ao3!

 Killian closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

 "Where did you learn to scam like that?"

 "I don't see…"

 "Who taught you?"

 Emma bit her lip. "Neal?"

 She assumed Killian would be offended, but this seemed not to just be the point he was getting at, but a stepping stone to that point.

 "Where did he learn it from?"

 "I don't know." Emma said. "His dad is the dark one? He spend two hundred years in Neverland? I don't know?"

 Killian shook his head. "It's one of the skills he inherited from his mother."

 "Milah." Emma nodded.

 "That kind of plan was a page out of her book." Killian nodded back. "Plotting behind my back to help save me, swooping in at the last minute- to risk yourself for me- and scheming your way out of it so we could have it all together."

 Killian had never been one to play the comparison game with her before, and she wondered where this was going.

 "It's just what she would've done- just what she did- on the night that I lost her."

 Emma placed her hand on his shoulder. She looked at him as if to say, “please continue, I’d love to listen,” and he nodded a little, but turned away from her gaze, either staring intently at the cobbled wall behind her, or he didn’t even see it was there.

 "When I first dueled the Crocodile, hundreds of years ago, I had one thought on my mind throughout the whole awful battle- if I fought hard enough, stayed alive long enough, held off the crocodile as long as I possibly could, it might save her. She could get away, my death could be her salvation. 

 "Sooner than I’d wished but later than I should’ve expected, I found myself on my knees, the Dark One’s scaly fingers grasping my heart, firmly, my life in his hands- and I knew that this would be okay, this was almost delight, almost joy, knowing my death was not in vain, that maybe in dying I could save my love.”

He glanced back at her, and she simply nodded.

 “And then she came back for me, and then I lost her.” Killian said. “Do you know what the hardest part of those hundreds of years I spent on Neverland seeking my revenge was?”

 “What?” Emma

 “Knowing that it should’ve been me. I was the one who took Milah from him, I should have paid the price, and I could’ve paid the price, and I would’ve.”

“Survivor’s guilt?” Emma asked. “Is that what this is about?”

 “Something bigger than that.” Killian said.

 “You don’t know how you’d live with yourself if you lost me the way you lost Milah.”

 “Aye.” Killian nodded.

“I get it.” 

 “You do?” 

 “Of course I do.” Emma said. “I’ve been there.”

 “You have?”

 “I’m the savior; it comes with the job.” Emma smiled a little, then placed her hand on his neck. “Of course, it doesn’t help that some guys just won’t stop sacrificing themselves to save everyone.”

 “I’m good at surviving.” Killian said. “I managed it for two hundred years, didn’t I?”

 “So did someone else.” Emma said. “Sometimes your luck runs out.” 

 “Baelfire?”

 Emma bit her lip and nodded. “He died the way he lived- a hero.” 

 “He gave himself to help save us all.”

 “Sounds like a certain former Dark One I know.” Emma only half laughed.

Killian nodded sagely. “That’s why you went to the Underworld for me.” Killian said. “You couldn’t lose me the way you lost Neal.”

 “I went to the Underworld for you because I love you.” Emma said. “And love is sacrifice. Love means that every day I’m going to wake up and say ‘I chose Killian Jones today,’ because love is also trust, and I trust you’re going to wake up every morning and say ‘I chose Emma Swan today.’ And sometimes we’re gonna doubt each other, and sometimes we’re gonna lose each other, but at the end of the day, it’s always gonna be you and me.”

 “Aye, love.” Killian nodded.

 “And I am sorry.” Emma said. “I should have let you in on my plan from the start. It wouldn’t’ve changed whether I won or lost- but if me helping you ended up hurting you- then I guess I lost either way.”

 “All is forgiven, love.” Killian said, and he took her hands in his hand and his hook. “And I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

 “I forgive you.” Emma stood on her tiptoes and kissed his lips, just a quick little peck. “And I love you.”

 “And I love you too.” Killian bent down a little and kissed her lips, just a little bit of a longer peck.

 “And we’re all good now?” Emma asked.

 “Better than good, love.”

 “Excellent.” Emma said. She let go of his hands and draped her arms over his shoulders. “And do you happen to know if the famed Captain Hook has any plans tonight?”

 He raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Only if a certain wench is available.”

 “Her schedule’s pretty clear.” Emma smiled.

 “Really?” he teased. “Heard a rumor going ‘round the tavern- something about Black Beard.”

 “Not really her type.” Emma shook her head. 

 “You mean that?”

 “Absolutely.” Emma smiled as he wrapped his arm around her then reminded him, “Wax mustaches and perms aren’t really my thing.”

 And with that, the Captain and his wife walked back to their ship arm in arm, ready to face their next adventure the way they had faced and would face all their adventures- together.

[mizutori-heiko]

Mizutori’s bakudeku fanfiction master list [complete works]

Really really good writing by these incredible authors. In no particular order! These are all Top!Bakugou and Bottom!Deku. If A/B/O dynamics then it’s Alpha!Bakugou and Omega!Deku. Yes, I have preferences.

Canon World – until 15k

What The Fuck Did You Just Call Me? by reading_raindrop | 8,303 | Izuku starts calling him Bakugou and it pisses the explosive teen off a lot more than he thought it would.

Oh right, you were a little sh*t by SaysiWrites | 5,653 | When Midoriya Izuku gets hit by an age-reversion Quirk, the last thing anyone expected to find out is that Toddler-Izuku is a little shit. Except for one Bakugou Katsuki, who has seen this phase one too many times already. (Bonus+ the entire Little Sh*t (Kidfic) series)

Do Not Disturb by surveycorpsjean | 10,010 | Apply enough force, and something is bound to break.

And Atlas fell by supercrunch | 15,185 | They move in together, after a while. Katsuki joins Best Jeanist and Izuku trains under Gran Torino. They still take comfort in each other every day, curl up in bed and kiss and talk about how life is going. Their live are tumultuous, after all, what with villains and training and rescuing people every week. It’s nice to have something certain. At the end of a day filled with violence and adrenaline, Izuku knows he can come home to someone concrete. It’s perfect. Being a hero is scary and grueling and uncertain, but this part is just right. And then, one day, a child dies in Izuku’s arms.

be loved by bonnia | 5,403 | The kidnapping incident leaves bakugou traumatised about being touched on the back of his neck, and midoriya decides to take matters into his own hands.

Big Protein by Mysecretfanmoments | 13,683 | Bakugou Katsuki has a thriving hero career, an agent to manage his famous attitude, and absolutely zero romantic interest in anyone. With the exception of his favourite health food joint refusing to expand to his city, his life is pretty damn perfect—so why does a viral video revealing Deku's stash of dirty mags involving him and Deku together turn everything upside-down?

Chocolate cake and resin preserved flowers by Anoksun | 11,396 | Izuku loses his memories. Katsuki struggles not to lose Izuku too.

Twin Stars by theperksofbeinglarissa | 8,435 | When Deku saves a woman's life, her quirk is accidentally activated. Her quirk? She reveals a person's soulmate. A star-shaped mark appears on Midoriya's left arm... and on Bakugou's as well. Kirishima is the only one who knows that Bakugou is Midoriya's soulmate, and Bakugou isn't taking the news very well. Can the twin stars of class 1-A work out their differences and find their happy ending?

Unhealthy Fixations by Thesis | 12,522 | Izuku is an adult who knows better than to crush on his childhood bully. AND YET.

Like the Moon by osakakitty | 14,781 | Katsuki Bakugo is having constant, erotic dreams about Izuku Midoriya. He isn’t sure why, but they won’t go away. In order to make them stop, he needs to figure out what Izuku Midoriya means to him.

Worth a Second Shot by cinnabee | 13,080 | Katsuki and Izuku celebrate registering as a Hero Duo together with a big party. What could go wrong?

Like Something Out of A Shoujo Manga by Merrywetherweather | 2,971 | Deku ends up in a rather interesting quirk accident, one that triggers flag events as if he were the protagonist of an otome game.

Canon World – 15k++

Blood Moon by lalazee | 94,860 | The Thank-Fuck-We-Aren’t-Dead Sex had started then, and had never really stopped. Then came the feelings and the fights. The ego, the pride, the jealousy. And then there was Us.

The Way You Used To Do by edema_ruh | 669,463 | During a battle, Midoriya gets hit by a villain whose quirk detaches his soul from his body. Stuck in a ghost-like state, the boy enters a race against time in order to save himself from permanently dying. Much to his luck - or lack of it -, the only person who can see and talk to him in this state is no one other than Kacchan.

Just Like Breathing by MD_Daydreamer | 35,423 | Izuku got engaged. He didn't mind. If that made Uraraka happy, he could do it. He thought his life wouldn't change much.But then, Kacchan went to live in the USA.

briar roses (and hundred years of sleep) by vannral | 15,951 | In which Izuku is hit by a ‘Sleeping Beauty’ Quirk, Class 3-A tries to find his True Love and get them to kiss him, and Katsuki’s very angry about it all.

"what's your type?" by sapphicflower | 20,192 | In order to increase their popularity rankings as up and coming pro heroes, Izuku and Katsuki participate in the most popular late night talk show for hero duos - ‘Heroes Rising!’. They’re killing it, obviously, because they know each other from inside and out. Until one question stumps the two of them: “What is your hero partner’s type?”

and it was Just Right by cinnabee | 23,759 | Katsuki spends two years post-graduation in a furious one-sided competition with his childhood friend and rival's promotional photos - until they finally run into each other, and, well. You shouldn't believe everything you see in magazines. A love story about size differences.

Notice Me, Nerd by useless_donut | 40,000 | Bakugou is in love with Midoriya. He doesn’t hide it, in fact it’s so painfully obvious that the entire class of 3-A has him figured out in a matter of months (days, in some cases). Too bad Midoriya is the most oblivious motherfucker out there, and Bakugou is too damn stubborn to actually ask him out. A love story as witnessed by the class of 3-A.

in your dreams, nerd! by sapphicflower | 37,639 | In a strange and unexpected set of circumstances, Izuku and Katsuki find themselves sharing their dreams together whenever they happen to fall asleep at the same time. Being hopelessly in love with each other, they don’t mind it all that much. What better way to spend time with your crush than in a stupidly vivid dream?

Hear Me by my_name_is_Levi | 22,419 | It wasn’t as if nightmares were uncommon for the freshman class of Yuuei. They’d seen plenty of things, heard and felt and witnessed enough travesty in their lives to last them a lifetime. But Midoriya Izuku was screaming, and no one, not even Bakugo Katsuki could ignore it.

Bridges by supercrunch | 18,018 | Bakugou is signed up for a Calvin Klein modeling gig. The thing is, they really do need the money. And Katsuki's technically the leader of this bunch of morons, so he finds himself taking the job even though his pride will never recover. And even though nobody thought to tell him that he'd be working with his ex-boyfriend. You know, the cute freckled guy from high school who went and broke his heart. So, yeah. This whole situation kind of sucks.

objective truth by mamalade | 15,390 | Izuku gets hit with a truth quirk, as one does. He seems to be handling it well—until Katsuki shows up.

catharsis by dollcewrites | 15,071 | It's been six years since Izuku graduated.It's been six years since he confessed to his childhood friend; his classmate and his inspiration. It's been six years since he deleted Bakugou's number, asked his friends not to mention the name, spent every last effort of his heart turning off the TV and averting his eyes from the newspapers. It's been six, long, long years since he gave up on Katsuki Bakugou ever loving him back.

Here here, my friends and me (You are my familia) by Jeka | 128,832 | Bakugou Katsuki has made a great job of ignoring the fact that he is tragically in love with Deku, someone who could never love him like that and let's face it, he doesn't deserve. Now that he can't ignore it anymore, he has to find a way to keep his childhood friend and move on for his own sake. Or so he had thought, maybe he can have Deku, after all. Izuku has everything he always wanted in life. But suddenly he has to navigate the most important relationship in his life through different eyes.

Canon World – Jealous! 

Hands Off by SaysiWrites | 7,140 | When a new girl at school starts flirting with Bakugou, his friends quickly become invested in the idea of their friend experiencing love - even if he doesn't seem at all interested in her. What they don't see is Midoriya fuming in the background. But how can he get rid of her when they've spent so long keeping their relationship a secret?

Surfaces by surveycorpsjean | 25,225 | Katsuki has a new girlfriend, but something isn't right. As impossible as it is, Izuku can't help but wonder what it'd be like to be called Katsuki's girl.

Green-Eyed Beast by SecretKiwi | 4,721 | Everyone wants a piece of Katsuki Bakugou, but they should beware of the Green-eyed beast always lurking close behind him.

Green with Envy by Sol_Morales707 | 2,611 | Izuku Midoriya is not as innocent and pure as everyone thinks he is. The truth was he was very jealous and willing to do anything for a certain blonde.

Happy Camper by Arysa | 7,074 | Wanting a break from the stress of dealing with the rookie Pro Hero grind, a handful of students from Class A decide to go on a camping trip. Izuku's excited to relax and catch up with everyone, especially Kacchan. But, well, Kacchan's... Kacchan. And dating Kirishima.

How to stop time: kiss by Teddingtons | 31,693 | Deku finally asks Uraraka out. Everyone's supportive except Bakugou who can't even look him in the eye. Deku seeks him out after and is hit with truth.

What I Deserve by s_the_queen | 16,671 | When Izuku starts dating a student in General Studies, everyone is happy for him. She's super sweet and really caring. But something doesn't sit right with Katsuki.

Deku's Already Fucking Taken by asdfjkl129 | 20,704 | 5 times people don't realize that Deku is already in a very happy relationship and try their hand at asking him out, and then in Bakugou's unique and special style, get very firmly corrected, +1 time where no correction is needed.

His by sister_elric | 6,206 | Izuku would like to consider himself a pretty level headed individual. Sure, he had the occasional tunnel vision, especially when it came to training. And hero work. And Kacchan. But, overall, Midoriya felt as though he typically kept his cool. Well, maybe that was a stretch. But, at the very least he could understand his own emotions. So, it surprised even him when an unfamiliar emotion coursed through him as a first year approached his boyfriend, Katsuki.

Down the Red Line by MinervaHope | 7,804 | Izuku has been able to see the red strings of fate since birth. It's no surprise that his is connected to Katsuki.

Canon World – Fake Relationship Goes Wrong

how he should’ve known (and how it turned out) by vannral | 43,918 | In which Katsuki and Izuku pretend to be a couple to avoid journalists, the plan backfires magnificently because of course it does, and the act goes on. Includes feelings, pining, domestic fluff and jealousy.

Vicious by feelslikefire | 105,173 | Midoriya and Bakugou wind up in the very last position either of them thought they'd be in: Hero Partners. It's not fun, but they learn to cope. Their first big assignment together takes them undercover to infiltrate a cult, but the situation turns out far more sinister than they first thought.

What I can never tell you by Mikacrispy | 27,067 | After living in the US for 5 years, Izuku returns to take care of a concussed Bakugou who believes they're engaged. Now, Izuku has to pretend he's in a relationship with the man he's loved for most of his life, knowing that it's just a matter of time until Katsuki gets better and realizes it's all a lie.

Not-Dating by MiraChaDoodles | 14,290 | Katsuki takes Deku on a not-date to save his career, only to find himself wishing it were real.

we'll do the things that lovers do by ethereals | 29,544 | Izuku gets an invitation to Shouto's wedding and Katsuki is PISSED that he asks Kirishima to be his date (also he wasn't even fucking invited

Canon World – Friends With Benefits (?) 

Four Times Bakugou Katsuki Doesn't Intend to Sleep With Midoriya Izuku (And the One Time that He Does) by fallingraine85 | 17,601 | He hadn’t planned for any of this. He isn’t about to go delving into the ball of yarn that is Midoriya Izuku’s heart; he isn’t equipped to try and untangle and make sense of it all. He isn’t about to try to analyze how he’s feeling about all of this, either.... How many times can you repeat the same mistake?

We Wear Chains on the Weekend by surveycorpsjean | 35,086 | Well, in a day of revelations, it turns out that Izuku isn't as vanilla as Katsuki previously thought. Unfortunately, that fascinating discovery is overshadowed by Izuku's dumbassery, because he has zero concept of aftercare."Don't go to anyone else," Katsuki says, because screw it. He can do a better job anyways. Or; Katsuki finds Izuku on a bad drop.

Just for Now by Shiro_Kabocha | 48,135 | Katsuki's parents are out of town over a school break and to keep him from getting up to any shenanigans, they ask Izuku to house sit with him. What are two teenaged boys to do when left alone to their own devices? (Bonus+ the entire Just for Love series)

safe in the darkness by yoonskisses | 20,855 | Izuku and Katsuki had been meeting up secretly for months, with absolutely no feelings involved. Or so Katsuki thought at least. The dorm gossip about Ochaco and Izuku's new relationship seemed to set a spanner in the works for their arrangement.

Alternative Universe – No Quirks

Bluebird by EtherealBeing | 53,108 | Dialing a wrong number was no unusual occurrence. Everyone did it once in a while, and Katsuki was well aware of that fact. However, possessing this knowledge made it no less aggravating for him to discover — a full two minutes into his rant about his day — that he’d been venting his frustrations to a complete stranger. As if that wasn't enough, said stranger was also inexplicably determined to hear his story to its end.

Someone Borrowed by mynameis152 | 138,996 | It felt like hours that he stared at Izuku, coming to terms with the fact that a man, his childhood best friend, whom he hadn’t seen since their senior year of high school, was there in front of his very eyes. Then his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched before he uttered through gritted teeth the very name Izuku had longed to hear for years. “Deku.”

Dark Side of the Sun by Synnie | 51,598 | Staying up too late playing video games, Kirishima wasn't expecting to get an urgent call begging for help. Next thing he knew, he was letting his classmate Izuku Midoriya take refuge in his apartment - without consulting his always angry roommate.

Manage Me by Justaperson1718 | 10,756 | Izuku becomes Katsuki’s model agent.

Don't Set Your Drink Down by Crandberrycrush | 88,424 | With sudden clarity Izuku realized he had broken the first rule of going out. Never leave your drink unattended.

Livewire by pretty_rekless | 18,160 | Per Ochako's request, Izuku downloads a gay dating app in hopes to finally find a partner. Except every single one of his leads keep ghosting him or standing him up... That is until one hot, fiery blond enters the chat. Grindr/Tinder AU fic.

Drinking Watermelon by warschach | 8,906 | Katsuki works as a camp counselor, and Izuku is a boy made of summer heat and sunlight.

Precious Pet by Mikacrispy | 6,379 | When broke college student Midoriya Izuku found a job that offered lodging, food, and good pay for four hours of work each day, he thought it was too good to be true. But he called anyway. Turns out all he has to do is to be the spoiled little puppy of a rich businessman.

Our Eleven Summers by Dark_Mage_Ayumu | 34,472 | The first time Katsuki met Izuku was when he was eight. For the next eleven years, Izuku changed his life, and no one even knew. Their relationship was something they shared in secret.

sticky note crushes by ladyofsnails | 3,239 | Katsuki hates his roommate. The green-haired, freckled, artsy son of a bitch with his dumb pun t-shirts and paint-stained hands he can’t fucking keep to himself. Katsuki can’t leave a single assignment or paper out in his room because that idiot will just grab anything to draw on it. He’s like a shark that can’t stop swimming else it’ll die – he can’t stop drawing. Ever.

Don't Play Pretend by SweetSide | 10,103 | Actor AU: Deku and Bakugou get the leading roles for an upcoming TV Drama. They weren’t aware that they would be working with each other for who knows how long. It would’ve been completely fine if they weren’t exes.

97.6 FM by jamjars | 32,249 | Izuku can’t stop listening to the radio host with the deep voice who sounds like he’s stuck in 2010. It’s a harmless crush. That is until he starts calling into the show under the pseudonym Deku.

Read {between} Your Lines by greatcloudninja | 52,252 | Midoriya Izuku, up-and-coming actor, has finally hit his big break (...), Bakugou Katsuki, who has been acting for over twenty years.However, Bakugou seems to have it out for Izuku, leading to tension both on and off set. When some incriminating photos surface, the studio suggests (...): having Bakugou and Midoriya fake a relationship to get ahead of the rumors. 

I’m not looking for somebody with some superhuman gifts by PassingShadow | 5,522 | Izuku is a professional cuddler and Katsuki is his new client that’s just a little rough around the edges, and needs a natural healing touch.

Alternative Universe – Quirkless Deku

A Good Old-Fashioned Tattoo AU by lalazee | 14,437 | After their paths had split, Bakugou & Deku meet again as adults. While Bakugou begins to repent for the kid he used to be, he also starts to prove himself as he the man he is now.

Call Me a Safe Bet (I'm Betting I'm Not) by WTTTD | 10,803 | He wished he had some sort of heads up before seeing Deku again for the first time after nearly two years, looking like the essence of a lazy Sunday, smiling and surrounded with brand new, adoring friends. It was a little fitting that Katsuki burned for him so badly. (Support Department Deku)

In Which Kacchan Has a Ruff Time by OneshotPrincess | 14,511 | Bakugou Katsuki gets quirked into a dog, gets adopted by an unknowing Izuku and generally has a very rough few days full of realizations

While You Were Sleeping by Belkacaramelka (annabelleg) | 71,197 | The one where quirkless fanboy Midoriya Izuku rescues Pro Hero Todoroki Shouto, gets mistaken as his fiancé while he is in a coma, and gets caught up in the most unlikely fake engagement... until his childhood enemy and Todoroki's classmate Bakugou Katsuki tries to catch him out, and they both end up discovering a lot more about each other than they'd expected.

Let Me Assist You Personally by Seeress | 32,806 | Izuku is long-suffering Personal Assistant to #1 Pro Hero Dynamight.Dynamight can't keep a PA to save his career. They all quit crying after a few days weeks. Enter, Izuku—with enough money problems to brave the jaws of the cranky beast. Childhood friend turned glorified paid slave. Somehow it all works out. ‘Kill them with kindness’, his mom had told him once. If that were true, Bakugou Katsuki would be stone-cold dead by now.

Smile For The Camera by kurokonekokilled | 19,179 | Midnight has a cam site, home to millions of users, but one catches Katsuki's eye when he goes scrolled through it in search for something to help him release a little stress. A live stream and the best orgasm of his life later, his wallet is lighter, and he might be almost as obsessed with this Deku guy as the cam boy is with him.

Just Like The Comics by brichibi | 24,935 | Where Izuku works at a comic book shop because that’s as close to a hero as he’s gonna get, and Katsuki plays the part of heroic ex-boyfriend who is good at everything except winning Izuku back... maybe

Alternative Universe – Quirks

Get on my Level by Mikacrispy | 92,273 | Bakugou Katsuki is a Pro Hero whose boss demands him to take an intern. Midoriya Izuku is a UA student who needs an internship. When the two of them are put together, they learn about what it truly means to be a Hero and what it means to be in love.

A/B/O – Secret! Baby

Home by Emerald2402 | 87,214 | Midoriya Izuku left Japan in a rush, moving to America without a word to anyone else. But then almost 11 years later he arrives back Home and Bakugou Katsuki's Alpha is furious. Fuck that, Bakugou is furious, because Midoriya Izuku, an omega he tasted one time, has been keeping a very big, very blonde haired, green eyed secret.

Those Under the Same Stars by PerpetuallyPerturbed | 325,553 | When Katsuki Bakugo left Izuku Midoriya five years ago, he thought it was for forever. He put aside dreams and wishes of the omega to focus on his career. He was going to be the best hero, after all. He couldn't have an omega getting in his way. So when he's stopped on the streets one day by a pup begging for help for his mom, he isn't prepared to face what he gave up, and what the consequences of his actions were. (Quirkless Deku)

A/B/O – Quirks

Mark Me. Make Me Yours. by decadentbynature | 10,062 | Midoriya is the only Omega at UA and he's been hiding it well but there's one issue that threatens to expose him: his attraction to an Alpha, Bakugo. After being told to give some paperwork to Bakugo, Midoriya lets him into his dorm room and is immediately overwhelmed by his scent. Unable to help himself, he gives in to his urges, only to be discovered by Bakugo but instead of becoming enraged, Bakugo decides to give Midoriya exactly what he wants

Claim Me by ScientificallySinful (VampireGaaraCheesepuffs) | 114,449 | Being an Alpha has nothing to do with Katsuki's success as a Pro-Hero, the same way Deku's Omega status hasn't kept him from becoming Number Two. Secondary gender doesn't mean anything nowadays and “mating” is an antiquated practice. So when Izuku, his rival, asks Katsuki to Claim him in the middle of the night, there is only one logical thing to say. “What the fuck?”

Change of Plans by Mikacrispy | 185,965 | Alpha Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki never planned to get married to some random omega but what he wants isn't an option anymore. One for All wielder Midoriya Izuku has suffered injustice too many times and doesn't plan in allowing his secondary gender to dictate how he must live his life. Falling in love was never in the plans.

Going Feral For You by ANGIE_fic | 17,977 | Bakugou has an aggression problem that might have to do with his Alpha. His job is on the line because of it. So what do you do with a pent up Alpha? Yes.Rut. (Quirkless Izuku)

i live for you, i long for you by jeonjeonggukkkkkie | 19,165 | The five times Izuku hinted he wants Katsuki to spend his next heat with him, and the one time Katsuki took the hint.

Baby's First Bloom by ContraryBee | 44,945 | Izuku blooms for Katsuki one warm day in their third year of middle school. What follows is both boys learning about themselves, their bond, and the society they live in.

As Fate Would Have It by ScientificallySinful (VampireGaaraCheesepuffs) | 88,737 | Katsuki Bakugo had plenty of reasons why he wasn't mated yet, not that he was going to explain why to just anyone. But now, Ground Zero was running out of time. If he didn't find someone soon, he'd lose his position as a Pro-Hero and he'd never get to be #1. So, when he finds out there's a male Omega recently arrested for prostitution that's headed to prison if he too doesn't get a mate…well it must be fate. (Quirkless Izuku)

A/B/O – No Quirks

Gravity by warschach | 71,477 | Izuku is back in his hometown and plenty hasn't changed much from the 8 years he was gone. Except, Katsuki Bakugou, the alpha king of their small town. He's hotter- because that's fair, right, God? -, stronger, a now-famous pro fighter, and noticeably nicer this round.Not that he cares, pfft. (Fine, he cares.)

Nine Months by greatcloudninja | 23,303 | Omega Midoriya Izuku connects with Alpha Bakugou Katsuki through an online singles ad. Izuku pays Katsuki to help him with his heat, ending up pregnant in the process. What follows is a pregnancy filled with ups and downs, but whatever hurdles come their way, they can make it through together.

The long dark by Ominous-Anonymous (Ominonymous) | 13,289 | He could have been really dangerous. He could be a fucking murderer for all he knew. But Izuku Midoriya, ever the reckless daredevil, was not thinking of that when he got into a car with a complete stranger. Completely ignoring the part where his mother always taught him to never gets into cars with alphas he didn't know...

[dokifluffs]

Oh This Should Be Good | Sakusa Kiyoomi

Pairing: Sakusa X Reader (female) 

Genre: fluff, comedy?

Author’s Note: @makeusfreefromthisfandom and I are doing a seasonal challenge where we give each other prompts! You can read her’s here to the prompt I gave her! and here, you can obviously read mine with the prompt she gave me: 

“Ahaha this is random but imagine his daughter asking him where babies come from 😭“ 

Also note: I like to write Sakusa as if he’s getting help with his germaphobia like slowly over time, as challenging as it is, he’s trying to change and be better with people he loves and cares about like his partner and perhaps offspring. Even though this would be kind of out of his canon character, I like to write him like this so he’s a more flexible character to write for.  

Warning: Timeskip spoilers ah ha ha, parents, kids, married characters 

D/N = Daughter’s name

gif from @rivaillerose​ 💛

“Daddy!” Sakusa and your little girl ran towards her father, grabbing a hold of him around the waist as he stepped into the living room, finally getting a rare day off now that baby number two was on their way

“Morning, pumpkin,” he stifled a yawn as he patted her back, messing with her hair up before she let go of him in a fit of giggles, following him

“Will you play with me today?”

“What do you mean, I always play with you,” he slid down on the wooden floors, making himself comfortable as he leaned back against the couch, now at the same eye level with his precious jewel

All she could do was smile as bright as the sun, her laughter echoing throughout the living space as the sunlight poured in

She truly was such a little angel, it amazed Sakusa still to this day how far he and his growing family was coming

Naturally, his smile matched hers

He relaxed as he let the day go by, his daughter playing around him, playing with her toys, occasionally watching the cartoons

“What are you doing?” She leaned into his side as he wrapped an arm around her to make sure she didn’t fall or slip in any way as she peered at what he was doing

“I’m just-“ but before he could answer, his phone rang as he faced himself in his pwn phones reflection

He could see the visible relaxation and smile disappear as soon as he saw the contact names

“Don’t answer #1, Don’t answer #2, and don’t answer #3”

Despite their contact names, he still answered, internally praying that he wouldn’t regret this call

“Oi Hinata, you were right, I owe ya five bucks since he answered,” Atsumu’s accent sounded over the call

“Sakusa, hey hey hey!” Bokuto the bright star called through the phone

“Uncle Bo!” Your daughter jumped against her father as she held onto his wrist until Sakusa lowered the phone, letting her see her “uncles”

Though he never agreed to let them be her uncles

“Oh! Mini Sakusa!” All three of their eyes twinkled as they all beamed looking to your guys’ daughter as if she was their own

“What do you guys want?”

“So cold, Omi~” Atsumu whined. “You haven’t been at practice for so long, the scrimmages haven’t been the same.”

“But it’s also nice not to worry about blocking or trying to dig Sakusa’s nasty cut shots cause of his wrists…” Hinata smiled looking relieved

“Oh! How’s Y/N’s pregnancy? Did you guys find out the gender yet?” Bokuto chimed

“She’s doing alright and no, we wanted it to be a surprise..” Sakusa replied

“Daddy?”

“Hm?” Sakusa looked to her as she now made herself comfortable in his lap as he leaned forward, putting the phone down

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close

“Where’s mommy?”

“She’s-“

“Right here~” you waddled down the hall, your hair and clothes disheveled, unknowingly disrupting sakusa

“Mommy!” Your little girl sprung from Sakusa’s lap, making her way to you, latching her arms around your belly as best as you could

“Careful, D/N,” Sakusa worried seeing how she ran up to you, trowing your arms against her belly

“Why?” She held onto your hand as you walked toward the couch Sakusa leaned himself against before you lead her to sit down in his lap once again

“Oh, the Jackals. Hi guys,” you waved as you laid yourself down on your side on the couch, your head

“Y/N!” They all chimed, as if they all shared the same brain cell

this only confirmed Sakusa’s theory the more they said or did things simultaneously

“How’s pregnancy?” Atsumu chimed as he clearly lounged about in his own apartment

“Tiring,” you spoke just loud enough for the phones mic to catch what you said as you looped your arm around his shoulders, reaching for his hand to which he linked together

“But a lot more manageable since we know what to expect,” you yawned into your shirt, a habit you picked up from being with Sakusa

He used to cringe and shy away at your touch but now he didn’t even think twice about yours or D/N’s

“Hm, we’ll be uncles for more kids,” hinata beamed

“We didn’t even say-“

“The best uncles,” you nudged Sakusa’s shoulder playfully to which he just sighed, squeezing your hand in return

“Speaking of tired, why aren’t you sleeping in bed?” Sakusa turned his head, letting it rest on the edge of the couch as you brought your hand through his hair

“I didn’t want to sleep alone, plus it sounded so fun out here, how could I miss out on all the fun?” You reached down, booking your daughter’s nose as she stared at you

And then your belly

“Daddy?” She stood in between his legs as all the adults watched, curious at her next words

“Where do babies come from?” She stared with her wide eyes at Sakusa as you snickered, burying your head into his shoulders, eyes heavy

Atsumu choked on the water, doing a small spit tic as Hinata paused his game to laugh

Bokuto erupted into a big fit of laughter, enough to wake Akaashi beside him before he shushed him, cuddling him back to sleep but this is a different story

“Oh this should be good..” you laughed as all eyes fell upon Sakusa, the laughter dying down and being held in his teammates’ mouths as they awaited 

“Uh...” Sakusa’s mind raced as he panicked 

he knew this question would come up at some point 

but not like this 

at least not now 

your eyebrow raised naturally as sakusa’s breathing picked up 

“Next question...” he changed the subject, not ready to answer 

“But what about babies? How did one get in mommy’s tummy?” 

“Yeah, omi, how?” you joined in on the fun only to be on the receiving end of Sakusa’s famous glare that only softened for you after a second 

Now sakusa really regretting answering the call 

“It’s a secret, you’re not old enough to know yet,” Sakusa evaded 

“Aw, but-” 

“Next question, pumpkin,” He looked to her as if pretending it was just the two of them, parting her raven hair, ticking it behind her little ear

“Oh Omi, your ears are so adorably red and hot,” you teased, brushing your finger along the back of his bright red ears, purposefully pointing them out as the jackals laughed too 

the day continued with good memories as were made

He never thought he would feel this way in his life but

If he told himself 4-6 years ago that he would be married, let alone go on a date with someone and actually tolerate them, he wouldn’t have believed himself

but now he was grateful that you had crossed his path

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

ALSO! Reference meme I made: this tik tok sound

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[buckyismybicycle]

[PART 8] TEACH ME HOW TO LOVE (DAD!BUCKY X TEACHER!READER)

Title: teach me how to love AO3 Pairing: Bucky x Reader (teacher) Rating: Teen for now (*this will get bumped up NEXT CHAPTER) Tags/Warnings: godfather!Bucky, canon-typical violence/death of character, fluff, slight angst, learning disability, almost a spy AU & some amazing friendships, PTSD, nightmares, mentions of anxiety Summary: Natasha leaves behind her precious daughter, Yelena, and with her dying breath asks Bucky to look after her. You happen to have Yelena in your class this school year.

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Author’s Note: Hang in there folks - you know what's coming next chapter!!! As always, I appreciate you all for reading, and for reblogging to help spread the word. It means so much to me! 🥰

But Laura’s right, screw what he thinks he’s supposed  to do. He wants to see you — he just has to hope you want to see him too.

“Soooooo?” Laura asks, before she even gets the door opened up all the way. 

Before Bucky can even say anything, Clint pops around the corner holding hands with Yelena. 

“Papa!”

“How’d it go?” Clint asks as the child squirms in his arms and gets put down. 

“It was obviously a big hit, look at his smile!” Laura exclaims. 

“Is that what that is on his face?” Clint jokes. 

“I’m going to ignore you now,” Bucky says with a glare before picking Yelena up and giving her a Kunik until she giggles and buries her face in his neck for a proper hug.

“Did you have fun with Ms. Teacher, papa?”

“I sure did, pumpkin.” 

“Stay for lunch,” Laura commands as she tugs on his arm towards the kitchen, where she’d already set up an extra plate.

“This is just so you can interrogate me, isn’t it?” He asks, and the smug look on her face is answer enough. Clint looks all too delighted.

“So, the bar?” Laura prompts as the salad makes its way around the ‘grown-up table’. 

The girls had insisted on sandwiches, cut up into teensy triangles for their tea party in the next room, and the boys were more than happy to play along because sandwiches. 

“Was actually a great spot, it wasn’t too packed but busy enough. Kind of lost track of time, ended up staying for hours.”

“It sounds like you talked quite a bit!” Laura exclaims, obviously happy for this development. “That’s great, Bucky.” 

“She’s just easy to talk to. Real easy. She, um, asked me about my arm.” 

Clint and Laura both freeze for a second, looking at him to expand. 

“Not — not my arm, she asked me about the gloves. Then I told her. About the arm.” 

They look at each other and Laura puts a hand over his. “That’s a really big step, Bucky. I’m sure she must know that too.”

“The whole story?” Clint asks. 

Bucky nods once. “Whole story.” 

Clint lets out a low whistle. “That’s a big deal.”

“She makes me feel like it’s not? In a good way, I mean. She didn’t stare or ask to look at it. Just… held my hand, like that was normal.”

“It is normal,” Laura emphasizes, while Clint nods along. They’d had a lot of talks about Bucky’s relationship with his prosthetic and the complicated history. 

They catch up on a few other things, and end up talking about Chrstmas dinner. 

“You should bring her,” Clint offers.

“Slow down,” Bucky says nervously. “I haven’t even secured a second date yet.” 

“Well, what are you waiting for!” Laura scolds. 

“Uh.” He doesn’t really know how to explain the equal parts of fear and anxiousness he feels when he thinks about spending another day with you. 

“Please don’t tell us you’re going to wait,” Laura follows up with an arched eyebrow.

“I — no? Yes?” Bucky flounders. He’s shot someone with less hesitation than this, but something about you makes his head spin. 

“Why, so she can come up with reasons to leave your grumpy ass?” Clint asks, rolling his eyes. 

“Clint!” Laura berates before turning back to Bucky. “Itf you want a second date, ask her! What if the poor girl is waiting and thinking you didn’t have a good time just because you’re worrying about some outdated philosophy about dating.” 

“She said she wanted to take it slow,” he admits. “What if she didn’t have a good time?” 

It’s too easy for him to flip back and forth between selfishly wanting you while also thinking you deserve better. 

“Oh come on, none of that,” Clint tells him, kicking him under the table. 

“Let her choose,” Laura suggests. “If you message her and she doesn’t respond, that’s on her, but if she said she wanted to go slow, she can set the pace. That’s what’s important, right?”

Look, he’s been out of the game a while, alright? He’s never had to ask for a second date. He’s never been on a second date, not since college. 

It’s a momentous feat that you didn’t even ask Bucky for details before saying yes. Honestly, it didn’t matter. You had such a good time, and felt over the moon when you saw his name on your phone that you couldn’t care less what he wanted to do. Hopefully it wasn’t anything fancy as you had enjoyed the lowkey date last time and i seemed Bucky did too.

♡

When Tuesday comes around, you’re relieved to see Bucky in a pair of jeans. Yelena greets him, and you quickly clean up the last few paint brushes so they can dry overnight. Bucky asks Yelena about her day and waits patiently as she tells him everything. You feel a flicker of pride when she says she has fun — nothing makes you feel more successful as a teacher. 

“Okay, I’m ready!” You say as you finally gather your things. “Do I look alright?”

“You look perfect,” he chuckles at you before reaching up to your cheek and wiping a fleck of spray paint. “You’ve never been to Wanda’s Woofles, have you?” 

“Wanda’s what?” 

“Perfect.” He grins, not really answering you. 

It doesn’t matter, of course, you’d follow him anywhere. He drives a good twenty minutes away, and you keep up a steady conversation with both Bucky and Yelena, wondering how it's gotten to be so natural already. 

Wanda’s Woofles, as it turns out, is a family-owned ice cream and waffles shop and the outside is brightly painted. What sticks out the most is the shop’s logo, a very happy-looking Jack Russell Terrier with shaggy white and light brown hair. You’re in awe as you walk in the shop as you take in the jukebox, red leather stools by the counter and benches in the booths.

“I love this retro look!” You proclaim excitedly, looking at the posters along the canary yellow and cherry red walls. 

“Thank you,” a female voice says and you spin around to where a young woman is smiling behind the counter with long, straight, auburn hair. 

Bucky introduces the two of you. “This is Wanda. She owns this shop with her brother.”

“Nice to meet you,” she extends a hand over the counter, the slightest accent in her voice a beautiful lilt. 

“Lovely to meet you too,” you say. You notice there are a few patrons, the music is playing at a soft volume, and Wanda turns her attention downward.

 “Hi Yelena!”

“Hi Ms. Wanda! Do you have your strawberry stuff today?” 

“I sure do. Why don’t you pick a table for everyone and I’ll bring over some menus?”

“Okay!” The little girl hollers confidently, leading them further into the shop. 

You see buckets of ice cream all lined up, with flavours you’ve never tried, and the back counter is full of different candies, sprinkles, and other toppings all while the heavenly smell of fresh waffles fill your nose. Your excitement hasn’t worn off even after you’ve sat down. “Bucky, I can’t believe I’ve never heard of this place!” 

He smiles, relieved that you seem to be on board with his surprise. 

“It’s relatively new,” he tells you. “Wanda and her family moved here from Sokovia, during the war. Her twin brother helps run the place too, but I think it’s Wanda’s precious baby.”

“She does really seem to love this place,” you note, admiring Wanda’s big smile and bright eyes. She looked happy. 

“The dog in their logo is the family dog, Sparky. They found him on the street.” He nods to a nearby painting of the same dog, but in between two identical boys with bob cuts. 

‘Woofles’ you think delightedly to yourself, admiring how adorable it is. You wonder how often he comes here to know so much about this place already. As Wanda brought over the menus, she even sat beside you as Bucky and Yelena were across from you. 

“Good to see a new face around here,” Wanda says to you before leaning across the table and stage-whispers to Yelena. “Yelena, should I put an extra cherry on your strawberry sundae?” 

“Uh-huh!” Yelena beams as she claps her hands. Wanda winks easily at the girl.  

“How is everything?” She asks Bucky. 

“Can’t complain,” he shrugs. “How are the boys?” 

“Tommy wants to join the track team, which is great, but I am a bit concerned about Billy. He hasn’t quite seemed to have found any interests yet at school.” 

“You happen to be in the presence of a school teacher down at South Hamden Institute,” Bucky tells her, nodding to you.

“Oh! What grade do you teach? My boys are in South Westview, fourth grade,” she turns to you.

“I have a mixed class, grade one and grade two, but I used to assist at Winchester High for grade nine,” you say. “I’ve never had kids in between but I’m sure Billy will find something, they always do, it’s just a matter of exploring everything.”

“I think so too.” She gets a downcast look for a moment before smiling at you again. “My husband is overseas right now. He works for the government, you see, so he’s away for long stretches sometimes. I think Billy just misses his father, that’s all. I know it happens, but you just wish you didn’t have to see your kid anything but happy, you know?”

“Of course,” you agree hastily. “That’s totally understandable. Maybe you could suggest a few things you think he’d like, and help with putting together a surprise or something, to present to your husband when he comes home. It might excite him enough to want to find something.”

“That’s an excellent idea!” She exclaims with her signature wide smile. “Thank you, darling, that’s perfect. Now come, tell me what you want, I’ll even give you an extra cherry too.”

“That’s how you know Ms. Wanda thinks you’re special, Miss,” Yelena tells you. Bucky bites his lip but you can tell he’s very amused by all of this. 

You order a double scoop banana split — one flavour you’ve always loved, and one flavour you’ve never tried. It seemed like a good balance, and true to her word, Wanda did put an extra cherry for you. Yelena gets a strawberry sundae in a waffle with two cherries and Bucky gets a mint chocolate chip milkshake, so you get to tease him for being an old soul. 

“It’s a classic,” he makes sure to emphasize, but he doesn’t deny your teasing. 

“I know,” you agree, before stealing a sip for yourself. You share your banana split to make up for it, and by the time the three of you are done, you’re all full and lethargic when you say goodbye to Wanda. 

“That was the best ice cream I’ve ever had,” you tell Bucky as you make your way down the street to a nearby park. 

Bucky had already warned you that Yelena’s sugar highs are a nightmare and he always lets her burn off energy at the playground first. You definitely didn’t turn down a chance to spend more time with them. 

It’s not too busy, with a handful of kids ranging from toddlers to early teens running around on the jungle gyms and swings. Yelena bounces excitedly and begs Bucky to take her shoes off faster so she can go barefoot in the sand like most of the other kids. 

“My god, I wish I had her energy,” you complain. “I’m so full I could go for a nap.” 

Bucky huffs a laugh as you take a seat on the bench, but he casually drapes one arm behind you as an open invitation. One you do not decline. You tuck your legs up to your other side and lean into Bucky’s side. 

“Thank you, Bucky, this was perfect,” you say softly as you rest your head on his shoulder. His cologne is faint but enticing, every part of your body where you’re touching is warm even in the early evening. 

“I’m glad you had a good time.” His breath skims the top of your head, your hair fluttering ever so slightly. “Maybe I should have taken you to dinner first, hm?”

“But then I wouldn’t have been able to finish my delicious ice cream,” you point out. You like that you can feel the vibration of his chuckle against your body. 

“Maybe —” he coughs a little awkwardly. “Maybe next time?” 

You don’t know how he could possibly be so shy and hesitant when you were clearly interested in him! Maybe you’d have to do a better job showing it. He deserved to know how special he really was.

“I would love that,” you announce as cheerfully as possible. 

You glance to where Bucky has been looking, at Yelena in the sandbox with a few kids building a castle (or a dog, it’s hard to tell). Her back is to them so you lean your head back and kiss Bucky where you’re able to reach — along his jaw. His stubble tickles your lips but you smile into his skin before he shifts and tips your face toward him, his fingers curled under your chin, and kisses you properly. That rushing feeling comes back to you as you curl in closer to him and almost forget where you are. 

When you both pull back, Bucky gets his eyes back on Yelena, but his arm wraps a little tighter around you. You don’t know how long you stay, but Yelena is tuckered out by the time she declares she’s ready to go home.

“Did you like Ms. Wanda’s ice cream?” She asks you.

“I loved it. I’m so happy that you showed me!”

“Me too! It’s the bestest,” Yelena nods in affirmation. 

You ask her if she had fun in the park and by the time she’s done recounting all her activities, she’s snoring in the backseat. 

“I had an amazing time,” you whisper so as to not wake the little girl up. 

“Enough to see me again?” 

“Definitely,” you grin. “Text me when you get home,” you say as you get out of the car, making Bucky promise. You linger in the lobby, staring at the handsome man in his Camaro who’s waiting for you to get inside safely, wondering how you’d gotten so lucky. 

♡

“Come on, pumpkin, time for bed,” he tries to gently stir the little girl awake. 

“We’re home already?” she blinks tiredly. “I didn’t say bye to Ms. Teacher!” She looks distraught, but quickly recovers when Bucky says they can send her a goodnight video.

“That way she can see you say goodnight all the time, okay?” 

“Can I draw her a picture first?” 

“You get five minutes, okay? It’s time for bed already.” 

“Yay! You know, papa, I think Miss really likes you! She smiled lots today.” 

If he gets distracted and lets Yelena stay up an extra ten minutes, well, nobody has to know. 

♡

You and Bucky text constantly after that — good mornings and reminders, quick messages throughout the day. The video, of course, had the benefit of being saved instantly. 

Yelena had drawn you the moon and a few stars for the video, but the pair of matching, bright smiles had made you rewatch the video quite a few times. 

Sometimes, Bucky calls you after Yelena’s in bed and you’ve just settled into your couch with a cup of tea. You’d think that talking everyday would make it so there wasn’t anything left to say but it turns out that you were always learning more about each other. 

Soon enough, Friday rolls around and while you and add Bucky hadn’t explicitly made plans to see each other over the weekend, you knew that you were both free. You’re just about to message him when the three dots appear on your screen and you wonder what Bucky was going to say. They seem to go on forever, yet when he finally sends you the message, it’s clear that he had deleted his message quite a few times. 

And so, you find yourself in a beautiful, fairy-lit dance hall, with rich oak wood and high ceilings. 

“This place is beautiful,” you comment as you look around. People are relaxed, smiling as they chat and enjoy their drinks and food, the majority of them dressed for the occasion like yourself and Bucky. 

“It’s got a certain charm, doesn't it?”

“Do you come here often?”

“No, not quite. Hadn’t found the right partner,” Bucky says with a small smile at you. “I bring Yelena for line dancing on Tuesdays sometimes, though.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” you reply nervously. “Outside of weddings and clubs, I haven’t really danced, and something tells me that’s not the type of dancing we’re doing tonight.” 

“I promise I won’t lead you astray,” he expresses easily, with all the confidence in the world. 

It does settle the fluttering in your stomach, somewhat, but you’re still anxious about embarrassing yourself. You let yourself be led to a table on the side, where Bucky turns up the charm by pulling out your chair and you can’t help but giggle as you curtsy before sitting. There was something so romantic about the atmosphere with the gentle lanterns and soft music. 

Many of the women had their hair curled, old-fashioned, with bright red lipstick and pearls adorning their ears and necks. The men were all dressed to the nines in their dress shirts and ties, but none could compare to Bucky. His light blue dress shirt is tucked into his trousers, his hair looking soft and tucked behind his ears. To top it off, he’d even worn suspenders. He looked good. Very good. 

You order drinks first, and Bucky watches as you relax throughout the conversation. He pointedly doesn’t look at the dancers who have already made their way to the dance floor, keeping his eyes on you instead so you didn’t feel like he was rushing you. 

“Okay, I think… I think I’m ready to try,” you finally say, even though you weren’t feeling it. Bucky takes your hand across the table.

“Only if you’re sure.” 

“I’ll try.” You inhale deeply to muster up all the courage you can. 

Bucky leads you just a few feet from your table so you aren't quite with the rest of the group and holds your hand in his leathered one, placing the other gently on your back just beneath your shoulder blade. You lay your hand on his shoulder, after watching everyone else for some time. 

“Okay?” He asks, you look up into his radiant eyes, the golden lights illuminating every speckle and can’t help but smile. 

You may be nervous, but in his arms, you felt safe, so you nod. 

“Just follow my lead, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your ear before he steps back so you can watch his feet. 

His steps are slow and exaggerated as he whispers directions in your ear. He never rushes you, waiting for each of your steps before taking his next. To your surprise, there are only four steps that he repeats, stringing them together. Even you can feel yourself falling into his rhythm soon. 

He then pulls you closer to him, and you’re more than happy to lean in. For your benefit, he counts softly under his breath, his hand steady on your back to guide you. It gets easier and easier, and before you know it, you’ve melted into his arms, moving fairly fluidly with him. Your bodies are flushed together and each breath brings in the cool, woodsy scent of his cologne and you don’t even realize that you’d drifted into the centre with the rest of the crowd, which had grown since you’d joined. Before you could panic, Bucky gives your hand a squeeze. 

“Just focus on me, darling,” his honey sweet voice tells you. And really, there couldn’t have been an easier task. 

Bucky, with his shining sapphire eyes and solid, grounding presence, his rumbling chuckles and fluid grace. This you know for a fact: you could be in a room of thousands and thousands, but none would hold your attention except Bucky. 

You dance and dance, longer than you ever anticipated but you were having fun! Bucky even spins you and as your dress twirls around your knees, he always pulls you back into him. Your hair falls out from its bun atop your head, and you shake it loose, not bothering to fix it. 

By the end, you’re both warm and flushed, but floating on clouds. In a final move, he dips you, and you go without worry. He plants a quick kiss on your lips before he hauls you up into a joyous hug and you laugh freely. 

“Bucky, I didn’t — I can’t believe I just did that!” You couldn’t stop the bubble of glee in your chest as you two made it back to your table on tired legs. 

“You’re a natural/”

“No, oh my god, no. I had the best teacher,” you wink. 

He can’t help but smile widely at you. “Naw, I think I’m lookin’ at the best,” he fires back. 

The feeling still hasn’t worn off when you finally make it back to Bucky’s Camaro. If anything, the happiness builds and builds as he cruises along with the windows down and your hair whips around your face. Bucky does his best to keep his eyes on the road, but it’s nearly impossible with the way you look beside him right now — free and cheerful. With him. 

“Bucky?” Your voice is quiet, but musical, matching the smile that’s causing your face to ache. As he carefully pulls in and parks in front of your building, he’s finally able to turn to you. 

“Hmm?” 

“Thank you for today, it was… I felt so alive.” You said it so earnestly it almost hurt him to hear. “I never thought it would be so freeing, it felt like we were flying, Bucky. It felt… magical.” 

“You were stunning,” he announces. “Couldn’t keep my eyes off you.” 

You lean over the console to kiss him, slow and passionately, shivering when the leather of his glove runs along your cheek as he cups your face. 

“Would you want to, um, come up for a bit?” You ask timidly.  Bucky’s eyes are piercing as he searches your face for any sign of hesitancy. 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure” you agree with a nod, before you both exit the car and you lead him into the building. 

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🙏Thank you as always for getting to this point! If you’ve enjoyed this so far, please consider reblogging to help me share & feedback is so, so verymuch appreciated! 

[weasleylangs]

secrets i have held in my heart - f.w

Pairing: Fred x Fem!Reader Summary: Everyone in the twins’ lives mix them up once in a while, except for Y/N. Fred is dying to know how.  Warnings: Some angst with a happy ending, yes I wrote oblivious Fred again with miscommunication issues, what about it, some swearing, brief mention of the war but obviously this is a FredLives!AU :D, mentions of sex but nothing descriptive it’s like one line, - everyone is 18+ by the way!  Word Count: 4k

A/N: For the anon who requested super secret mutual pining with some angst where the reader is the only person who can tell the twins apart! Thank you so much for requesting. This has also been cross-posted on AO3 (frederickweasleys) as per the anon’s request! 

Also, I didn’t want to write about a 17 and 15 year old pining after each other, so I made everyone older and it’s postwar, however I was like 2000 words into the fic when I remembered George got his mf ear blasted off in DH so…. U do not see that it’s not canon in this fic thank you

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The sun is blaring down on The Burrow and everyone is starting to wonder the likelihood of getting heatstroke. They’re in the south-west of England and the weather doesn’t usually get above the early 20s in the middle of August, however, mother nature has decided to wreak havoc and today is almost 30°. 

Y/N is looking at the pages in her book but she’s not processing anything on the pages. She’s so appreciative of the relaxing life she and all her loved ones finally have. The war ended last year, and while Y/N isn’t family, Molly and Arthur are always insistent she’s welcomed at The Burrow for their Sunday roast dinners. 

So she sits under a tree, the muggle fantasy novel in hand as Molly is busy prepping dinner and her friends all play quidditch. Hermione’s been refereeing them despite having no actual knowledge of the rules, and right now, she’s waving Harry’s copy of ‘Quidditch Through The Ages’ at one of the twins trying to prove a point, fully aware she’s going to get nowhere with him. He’s laughing at her and he raises the hand holding the beater’s bat as he threatens to (softly) hit her with it when he looks over her shoulder and spots his favourite girl perched under the tree with his mum’s homemade lemonade. 

Before Y/N knows it, the bat’s been thrown in her direction, barely missing her and hitting the tree behind her, and when she looks up, she immediately recognises the twin as Fred. Fred and Y/N are almost two sides of the same coin and their friendship has always been considered unlikely. Fred loves mischief and pranks and he’s extremely exuberant where Y/N is a ‘stickler for the rules’ (Fred’s words, not hers) and she’d much rather spend her day reading than playing quidditch. But their friendship blossomed and eventually for Y/N her feelings evolved into more. 

But Y/N is one of Ron’s best friends, and having a crush on her best friend’s older brother is weird, even if they are 19 and 21. 

“Hi Freddie,” she says, dog-earing the page and closing her novel, accepting now that Fred’s in her presence, the book isn't getting read again until tonight, “no more quidditch?” 

The ginger gives her a shit-eating grin and completely ignores her question, “Darling, I’m George.” 

Y/N squints at him for a brief moment, second-guessing herself but the longer she looks at him the more she’s sure it’s Fred, not George in front of her. “No, you’re Fred. I’ve known you for how long? Just accept I can tell you apart.” 

Fred mutters a ‘fuck’ under his breath as he sits down. He’s always loved that Y/N is the only person who can tell them apart, his own family struggling sometimes and especially when they’re apart. But no matter what, she somehow gets it right every single time and he’s dying to know how.

“You’re never going to tell me how you do it, are you?” He questions and she replies how she always does when he asks, blaming it on intuition and that she doesn’t know how she does it. As always, he doesn’t believe her. Y/N secretly does have a way of easily telling the twins apart, not rooted in intuition in the slightest but she doesn’t want to tell him. 

The truth is, the way her heart races when Fred looks or speaks to her is her way of telling them apart. Fred always has a mischievous glint in his brown eyes and the way he looks at Y/N makes her feel like she’s the only girl in the world. George is sweet, loving and exceptionally kind- he was there as a source of comfort and calmness for Y/N when the trio disappeared during their 7th year to hunt Horcruxes, when she and her family went into hiding. She loves George like she would love a brother, like how she loves Ron and Harry, but the love Y/N has for Fred is different and the catalyst for her ability to tell them apart.

“I’m going to get you one day. One day George and I will swap and you’ll get it wrong and as a reward for finally tricking the oh so wonderful Miss Y/N Y/L/N, you’ll tell me how you tell us apart.” 

-

It’s not even an hour later when Fred and George come down wearing each other’s clothing. Y/N’s well aware Fred prefers to wear warm and bright colours while George likes to wear the dark colours in their coordinated clothing, so seeing Fred walk down the stairs in George’s purple shirt and vice versa is funny, despite the fact they’re identical twins, Y/N thinks they look ridiculous and unfamiliar.

“George put the purple back on. You look weird in orange,” she says, as she goes back to help Molly with the vegetables for dinner and soon after she speaks, she hears someone angrily kick the table. She looks up from her potatoes she’s been peeling to see an entertained George and Fred who looks like he’s going to throw a child-size tantrum. 

“How!” He exclaims again, pulling the shirt up over his head, shoving it in George’s hands and stomping back upstairs to change. Y/N is about to follow him, genuine concern for Fred in tow. She knows he’s most likely just being dramatic to cause a ruckus but there’s a small part of her that considers he might be serious. 

“He’s fine, Y/N,” George states, changing his shirts and throwing Fred’s orange one over the back of the chair as he sits down, “I think he’s trying to rile you up into telling him how you do it.” 

She laughs at this, knowing that while she might not have told him, the look in George’s eye hints that he’s picked up on her feelings for his twin brother. But before she can say anything, Ron comes bounding down the stairs and right into the kitchen, Harry in tow. They’re both looking for food and when Ron’s hand makes his way towards the ham, Y/N smacks him.

“Don’t spoil your dinner,” she scolds which causes Harry to laugh. 

“But, mum,” Ron mockingly replies, “All the quidditch got me hungry!” He might be 19 but he’s sulking like a 10-year-old boy and Y/N thinks temper tantrums might run in the Weasley family. 

When Molly isn’t looking, however, Y/N sneaks him a piece of ham and Ron jumps up quickly, smacking a kiss to her cheek, “You’re the best!” he whispers as he quickly shoves the piece of ham in his mouth to not be caught by his mother. 

Soon enough, everyone’s crammed into the small kitchen and Molly waves them all out except Y/N, who she insists stays. She thinks it’s because she was already helping with the vegetables but when she’s about to ask for her next task, Molly has a rare mischievous glint in her eye.

“How do you tell my sons apart?” She enquires and Y/N groans. She hasn’t been asked how she tells the twins apart this often since she was at Hogwarts and before she can speak, Molly continues, “it’s just no one can besides us, and even then, sometimes I catch myself calling George, Fred sometimes.” 

Y/N sighs. She loves Molly like her own mother, but she loves to meddle like every mother. 

“I just know, I wish I had some excuse like a mother’s instinct, but I just know,” Y/N pauses and thinks how to word her next statement without spilling too much for potential eavesdroppers and Extendable Ears to hear, “They have different energies. I think I pick up on it easily.” 

Y/N hopes that’s enough for Molly to drop the conversation at hand and while Molly hums in agreement, she reads between the lines. She’s known for a while that Y/N carries a flame for the oldest twin, after all the way Y/N looks at Fred is the same way she looks at Arthur, so she’s hoping for the day they both stop dancing around their feelings. 

She already loves Y/N like a daughter, and she’d like it to be official one day. 

-

After dinner, the girls are all holed up in Ginny’s room. She loves staying at The Burrow. Y/N never grew up with sisters and her friendship with Hermione and Ginny are the closest she gets to them. They usually gossip, who’s dating who, who’s already getting married, sometimes it gets juicy and someone’s pregnant. 

When Ginny and Harry, and Hermione and Ron finally got together, they gushed for hours about how it finally happened and how excited they all were.

Tonight, unfortunately, the topic at hand is Y/N and Fred.

“When are you going to tell him?” Ginny enquires as she smooths out her face mask. Hermione’s braiding Y/N’s hair and when she doesn’t reply, Hermione grasps some hair and gives a hard tug. Y/N yelps and while Hermione mutters an apology, she doesn’t miss the wink she gives Ginny in the mirror.

“Tell Fred what exactly?” 

“About your feelings for him,” Ginny replies like it’s the most obvious thing in the world that everyone should have known. Y/N starts to stutter, trying to find words to deny her feelings but these are her two best girl friends, her sisters and she can’t lie to them no matter how much she wants to. 

“Okay fine, they exist but he’s never knowing,” she states, a matter of factly as if it’s something to be proud of, “and he’s never finding out. I’m looking at you, Ginevra.” Ginny inherited her love to meddle from her mother, and if Y/N is positive about anything it’s that Ginny is going to meddle to get her best friend and brother together. 

“I’m pretty sure he likes you back,” Hermione says. She prides herself on being observant but even she didn’t notice Ron’s feelings for her until he quite literally put his lips on hers. 

“I’m just his little siblings’ best friend, Hermione, I doubt it,” she says as she grabs the tiny elastics to secure her hair. “Besides, I think he has a thing with one of the girls from his year at school.”

“You’re choosing now of all days to get the wrong twin? George is dating Angelina. Fred hasn’t even been seen with a girl since he slept with one of Fleur’s cousins at the wedding.” Ginny says and something about this makes Y/N blush, almost happy that Fred’s been single for as long as she has, but the jealousy is in the back of her mind.

“... Shut up,” Y/N laughs as she grabs the nearest pillow and smacks Ginny over the head with it. This causes chaos in Ginny’s tiny bedroom and soon enough all three girls are defending themselves with pillows and jumping around the bedroom.

What none of the girls knew, however, was Fred standing outside of the bedroom, eavesdropping. He’s always been curious about what the girls talk about when the boys aren’t around and Fred reckons if he doesn’t have to hear about his little siblings’ sex life, it doesn’t hurt anybody. 

Except it does, and he hurts himself. He arrived just in time for Ginny to question why Y/N doesn’t admit her feelings to someone. At first, Fred was hopeful, especially when the conversation steers in the direction of her liking one of the twins. After all, Bill’s married, Percy’s… Well, he’s Percy and Charlie isn’t in England enough for him to believe Y/N was able to develop feelings for him. 

So that leaves himself and George from context clues. He’s always had a crush on her ever since they were in school, but he was always worried about coming off as creepy, pining after someone two years below him. 

But then Y/N says ‘I think he has a thing with one of the girls from his year at school’ and he walks off before he even hears the rest of the conversation, hearing the apparent confirmation of Y/N’s feelings for George. 

-

The summer is still sweltering hot when she decides to visit Diagon Alley three days later. She’s shopping for her nephew when she ends up in Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Fred was unusually quiet when she said goodbye to him on Monday morning before she floo’d away to her job at the Ministry and she’s hoping to catch him at the shop during quiet hour. 

When she walks in, she’s met with a bell ringing and the voice that calls out ‘Hi, how are you today!’ doesn’t make her heart race so she immediately knows she’s caught the wrong twin at the counter.

“Hey, Georgie!” She makes her way over to the counter. It’s a Wednesday morning, so the shop has a lull in customers and he’s doing what Y/N assumes is a stock take of whizbangs. He gives her a nice smile as she potters her way over to him. She stops in front of the love potions, smelling the familiar scent of cinnamon, fireworks and something that can only be described as happiness in the small bottles. She’s so entranced for a moment that she doesn’t even notice George make his way up next to her.

“You don’t need one of these, by the way,” He whispers as he winks, looking behind him and seeing Fred standing on top of the spiral staircase not looking the happiest. 

“You’re the second person to tell me that this week,” she mutters, quickly putting the love potion vial down, “I don’t know what any of you mean.”

George chuckles at her obliviousness. It’s been obvious since they were teenagers about the feelings both Fred and Y/N harbour for each other but he can’t help but admit it’s just the tiniest bit funny. Like it’s a joke they’re all in on except the oblivious couple themselves.

“It’s because we’re more observant than you, darling,” George says, absent-mindedly fixing the display so it looks presentable. Y/N’s about to question him when someone clears their throat behind them- an elderly gentleman shopping for some grandkids when George excuses himself with the promise ‘this isn’t over’. 

Fred watched the interaction from the staircase and while he didn’t hear anything, he feels like he’s gotten punched in the stomach. He knows he’s never directly told George about his feelings for Y/N, and George is dating Angelina anyway and he’d never betray her, but he can’t ignore the slight feeling of upset he feels when he sees them interact.

-

“I think Y/N likes you,” Fred says nonchalantly and George almost chokes on his tea. It takes him a moment to fix his breathing before he looks at Fred like he’s got three heads.

“No, she doesn’t?” George questions, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world and that upsets Fred slightly. He’s not upset at George, he never has and he never will be upset with George, but it seems like his comment was brushed off without any deeper consideration.

“No, I think she does,” Fred says, twiddling his quill between his fingers as he stares at the tax invoice in front of him. Wednesday night is budget night and Fred knows he’s not going to get any work done if his mind is stuck on Y/N and her feelings for George.

“No, mate, she doesn’t,” George huffs and Fred notices the eye roll George gives him. George only ever gives him eye rolls when he’s being oblivious. Like when Fred spent 20 minutes looking for his wand last week only to find it in his pocket.

Fred’s convinced George is just being oblivious, blinded by his new relationship with Angelina that he hasn’t noticed Y/N’s feelings for him. “Do you wonder how she can tell us apart?” 

George huffs in annoyance as a reply and Fred pouts as he attempts to go back to his taxes. He’s reread the same line three times when George finally speaks.

“I think it’s got something to do with her feelings for us. She feels differently about one twin.” George is intentionally being coy, hoping to Godric that Fred caught the pointed stare and the emphasis but Fred wasn’t looking and the longer he dwells on what George has said the more he’s convinced he doesn’t have a chance with Y/N at all.

- 

It’s the weekly Sunday roast again and Fred isn’t expecting to floo into The Burrow and be met almost face to face with Y/N. He’s planned on ignoring her today, purposely volunteering to do any work needed at the shop while George floo’s to The Burrow early in the afternoon. 

It teeters on 5 pm when Fred finally arrives and he’s quickly engulfed in a hug by his mother with his father behind him telling him to stop working on Sundays as ‘Sundays are for family’. With a kiss to his mum’s forehead and a promise to his dad that he’ll force George into doing the Sunday work next week, who throws a piece of stale bread at Fred’s head while exclaiming ‘you offered!’ he quickly makes his way away from Y/N.

Molly’s quick to serve up dinner now Fred’s here, complaining he’s starving already. He quickly steals the seat next to Ron and pulls George down next to him- not wanting to allow Y/N to sit either side of him. Usually, she sits between Ron and Fred and when she turns the corner and the only available seat is the furthest from Fred, her heat sinks a little.

Dinner is pleasant, it always is at The Burrow. Hermione and Y/N talk about the ministry while Ginny tells stories of her Holyhead Harpies tryouts she had during the week. Y/N might let slip she works with the coach’s sister-in-law and overheard some high praise for a certain Miss. Weasley and Ginny’s eyes fill with tears when she hears this. 

There’s a quick lull in conversation as Molly waves her wand and the now empty plates make their way into the kitchen, children following behind them ready to help wash up but Fred makes his way outside. He likes to watch the sunset, the sun slowly dipping behind the hills where he learnt how to play quidditch as a kid as the sun becomes shades of orange. 

He’s sitting under the tree when Y/N follows him out. She’s shouting his name trying to find him. He slipped out without anyone noticing and that’s unusual for Fred so something is wrong. When she spots him, she starts jogging over and she can’t tell if he’s ignoring her or can’t hear her calling his name, so she tries something.

“George?” 

Fred turns, a smirk subconsciously forming on his lips and Y/N finally feels seen by him in a week. “It took me calling you your brother’s name to get your attention?” She asks, kicking sticks out of the way before she takes a seat next to him. 

“No, love. Just shocked you finally got us mixed up,” he replies, shoving her a little with his elbow. He knows she only did it to get his attention, but he’s Fred Weasley and he’s going to use this to his advantage. “I believe I told you when you get us mixed up, you’re legally required to tell me how you do it. I’m all ears.” He wiggles his eyebrows but deep down, he’s scared George’s assumption is right.

She rolls her eyes, but the love she has for this boy in her heart can’t be kept a secret anymore. This week she’s felt like he’s been ignoring her and while she and Fred are no means ‘best friends’, not like she is with the others, she’s felt a little piece of her universe missing knowing he’s been upset.

“You and George, I… I feel different about you to how I feel about George,” she starts and Fred’s breath hitches. He doesn’t know if he’s going to storm off or throw up so he just sits and stares at a rock. “George makes me feel comfortable. He’s always willing to talk to me about anything, feeds into the fact I can speak for hours on end about any topic if you let me,” she laughs and her nervousness is in her throat. She notices Fred isn’t looking at her and it’s making her want to run away.

“But you, you feel like home, Freddie. The way my heart races when I hear you speak or when you look at me. It’s the biggest indicator of how I tell you guys apart. George and you may be identical but the way you both make me feel is so different.” She’s whispering now and she’s realised Fred is looking at her so intently that the Earth might open up and swallow her whole. 

���Like, home?” 

She smiles softly and takes his big hand that’s been messing with rocks into her small ones. “Like I can tell you anything and you’ll never judge me. I could be having the worst day of my life and one joke from you can make me smile even if I’ve been crying for hours.” Her thumb starts to rub along the top of his hand and the way he shivers doesn’t miss her. 

“I’m trying to say, in a round-about kind of way, that I’m in love with you, Freddie,” her voice is shaky but there’s no backing out now. “I’m in love with you and this past week where it’s felt like you’re mad at me has me so confused because I don’t know what I did.” 

Fred feels incredibly guilty now, he was so caught up in his own feelings that he didn’t stop to think how his actions would affect Y/N. “I thought you liked George,” he whispers, and he feels his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “I thought you liked George and not me and I didn’t want to be near you knowing that.” 

She giggles and drops his hands to run her fingers through his hair. It’s still short but she thinks she can convince him to grow it out again. “Me? George? Not even for a second.” 

“Why not?” The joking in Fred’s voice is there but so is the genuine curiosity. 

“I don’t know. It’s just always been you, ever since I was 11 and you were bullying Ron into performing a spell to turn Scabbers yellow.” She laughs at the memory, watching scrawny Fred bully his small brother on the train platform. 

Fred looks down at her, her hands now playing at the hair at the back of his neck and he feels goosebumps rise across his skin. He wants nothing more to lean down and press a kiss to her lips and when he realises he never actually admitted his feelings to Y/N back, he starts to lean down, hoping to convey everything he feels for her through a kiss.

She’s quick to catch on and she leans up so quickly they almost bump noses. It’s messy, like most first kisses are, especially in an awkward sitting down position but the love they have for each other is there and obvious. They pull away when they’re barely kissing anymore, just smiling and laughing into each other’s mouths. 

“Does this mean we’re dating now?” Fred asks. It’s a dumb question, they both know it but when Y/N pretends to think he stands up and hauls her over his shoulders and starts swinging her around. The giggles that erupt from her make Fred’s heart swell and he’s about to put her down just to get down on one knee himself and propose right then and there.

“Yes, Freddie, if you want me to be your girlfriend then I’m yours.” Y/N replies and Fred smiles, he loves that. Not Y/N being his, he could never believe she’s an object, but she loves him and he loves her and now he understands why George was rolling his eyes at him.

“As long as you don’t get George and I mixed up in bed, I’m all yours.” He says it jokingly, but the smack he receives from Y/N is no joke and when he starts swinging her around again, he’ll forever make dumb jokes like this if he gets to hear her laugh like that for the rest of his days.

[deancasbigbang]

Title: Lonesome Rider

Author: onwardorange

Artist: popgirlcas

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, background Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, past Crowley/Dean Winchester, past Dean Winchester/others (minor)

Length: 65000

Warnings: undefined

Tags: Wild West AU, Mutual pining, Misunderstandings, Idiots to lovers, Tent sharing, Sexual tension, Porn with feelings, Canon-typical violence, No historical accuracy, Happy ending

Posting Date: November 16, 2021

Summary: Dean Winchester, better known as the “Lonesome Rider” throughout the Wild West, spends his days galavanting from town to town, drinking, dancing, and flirting his way into people’s beds. He’s got no responsibilities and no direction in life; it’s just him, his beloved horse, Baby, and the open road, and that’s just the way Dean likes it. (Or so he tells himself.) That is, until the day Sam falls deathly ill. When nothing is able to cure him, Dean makes a desperate deal to save Sam’s life that puts his own on the line. Enter Castiel Novak, a small town preacher in possession of the Colt, a gun rumored to be able to kill just about anything as well as the one thing that could save Dean’s life. When the gun is stolen by a gang of infamous outlaws, Dean and Castiel must travel across the West together to get it back, though what they discover between themselves along the way may turn out to be more powerful than the Colt itself.

Excerpt: “I’ll tell you what, Dean Winchester,” the bartender says. “I’ll offer you my own deal.”   Dean shuts his mouth, unsure of what to say to that.    “I’ll save your brother’s life, but I won’t take yours. At least, not immediately.” She refills Dean’s glass a third time before taking out a clean glass from below the bar and filling it up with whiskey as well.  “You’re 𑁋 you’re giving me a free pass?” asks Dean, hardly daring to believe his ears. However, the bartender just laughs, shaking her head.   “Not exactly. You’ll have until sunset one year from this day to find true love, and to have it returned. If you find it, I’ll allow you to live. If not, I’ll take your life, just as you offered in your original deal.”   Dean blinks at her, momentarily stunned into silence. His refusal of her offer is on the tip of his tongue 𑁋 he knows trying to find his “true love” is entirely futile 𑁋 but a niggling idea in the back of his mind gives him pause.    The bartender’s deal essentially gives Dean a year of borrowed time, a year that he didn’t think he would get when he came here to make the deal. If he could figure out a way to kill a demon during the time that he’s been given . . . well, then he could return here and kill her, releasing himself from the deal. Sam would live, Dean would live, and there would be no stipulations about either him dying or him needing to find his true love.    Dean glances at her, hoping his face doesn’t look too guilty. It’s not that he wants to kill her 𑁋 she’s actually been almost kind to him 𑁋 but if he’s got a shot at getting out of a deal that he made with a demon, he’s going to take it. It really is nothing personal.   The bartender looks at him, one eyebrow raised in question.    “Well, Dean Winchester,” she says, lifting up the glass of whiskey she poured herself, “what do you say?”   Dean grabs his refilled glass and lifts it in the air. He takes a deep breath, locking his eyes with hers, before clinking his glass against her own. The sound reverberates loudly in his ears. They both drink deeply, and two empty glasses are set down on the bar a few moments later.

DCBB 2021 Posting Schedule

[oyasuminto]

minty I come back with Sid hcs. just for you n the followers. as a treat

🔇❤️

-saying I love you and slapping your hand over sid's mouth when he takes in a breath to say something. you know he loves you too so you don't need to hear it and you don't want him to accidentally say something shitty as a defense mechanism before he can stop himself. he'll eventually say it when he's ready and he'll mean it

-sid getting a call while you're riding him and he tells you not to stop. he's surprisingly good at not moaning but he has his stupid fucking smile on his dumb face the entire time. ends the call by saying "oh yeah y/n is on my dick so I gotta go! see ya"

-if you're ftm and have a packer, he WILL want to show you personally how he positions his dick. if you have no idea what you're doing, he'll jam his hands down your pants to do it for you if you let him. zero shame, this man

-he like the head scratches :) get right behind his ear and he has to prevent himself from doing the lil dog thing where he leans and angles into it lol (and he also likes head but different subject)

-wants to cling to you as much as possible if you ever top him. when he can, he WILL shove his face into your neck and leave as many hickies as humanly possible while tryna grab at your ass

-ideal date is looking through sex positions and picking out the funniest looking ones to try. and also binge watching anime while cuddling on the couch. if he cries at the finale, You Didn't See It.

-kisses with an OBSCENE amount of tongue. TOO MUCH. like, he knows what isn't sloppy and he's good at it but he prefers makin out like a dog. does he actually like it or does he just like to subvert expectations? the world will never know

-so pouty and bratty when he's sick. he's DYING!!!!! take care of him!!!!! make him noodle soup or else he'll HAUNT YOUR ASS WHEN HE CROAKS FROM THIS HORRIBLE INCURABLE ILLNESS

-tip! he likes when you shove his face down into the bed and absolutely wreck him until he can't talk back anymore. and even then, he WILL be mumbling incoherent shit TRYING to talk back. it's simply in his nature lol

and that concludes the jas (omg name reveal) sid lightning round of headcanons! I hope this is enough food for everyone lol. feel free to add anything on if you'd like, minty >:3c -🔇

1) Sid's honestly thankful that you kept him from talking. He knows how bad he is, and, really, he's just glad that you're willing to put up with him.

2) This man has zero shame, he doesn't care if whoever's on the phone can hear you moan. Let's be real, he's probably talking to Farz, and just wants to hear his friend choke from shock. Farz is unable to look you in the eyes for a while afterwards.

3) Sid is supportive, in his own awful, horny way. You might have to stop him from shoving his hands down your pants in public because "Your bulge looks off, bro."

4) Your hand goes in his hair, and his brain shuts off. It's one of the few ways you can stop him from talking. Issue is, he'll probably get hard from it.

5) Sid makes it his goal to leave at least one hickey on you every time you fuck. He sucks and bites like a motherfucker, and isn't satisfied until you're so marked up that nothing can hide it.

6) You've gotten a few bruises from some of the wilder positions, but others have become regular staples of your sex life. Also, it doesn't matter if you can see the tears; he's not crying, his eyes are sweating, shut the fuck up.

7) It's absolutely purposeful. Sid mostly does it in public, just because it's funny to see people cringe and squirm in discomfort. However, he also likes the messiness of it all.

8) He doesn't care if the doctor says it's a mild flu. He is insulted, devastated that you're refusing to care for your clearly ailing boyfriend.

9) This man canonically gets pegged. Shoving him face down just makes him even more determined to be a brat. He's not one for begging, but he will demand that you fuck him harder.

[hartigays]

rafebarry prompt: not canon compliant but rafe and barry are trying to get away from ward but barry gets hurt so rafe begs sarah + pouges (not on good terms w each other) to help them escape bc he loves barry<33

just a little something i thought about! totally up to you on how this all goes down if you decide to write it, anything you write is amazing !!

this was a stupid fucking idea. stupid, stupid, stupid. rafe knew from the beginning, he should’ve never agreed to this.

there aren’t many things that he and barry don’t agree on, surprisingly. even if they start off disagreeing about something, they generally always end up on the same page. but this plan had been something they’d gone back and forth on, never settling on a definitive decision.

in the end, barry had simply manhandled rafe over to the place he’d formerly called home - before ward booted his ass out - and waltzed them through the front door like they owned the place.

all to steal from ward, to get more money for coke and groceries (re: booze and hot pockets) and whatever other fleeting indulgences they could think of.

rafe had disagreed with this plan throughout its development and execution, not wanting to cross the one and only person in the entire world who scares him: ward cameron. and he’d been right to, because now barry is gasping for air, holding his side while blood spills from between his fingers.

they’re racing through the woods, trying to get as far away from ward’s long-range hunting rifle as they can.

rafe doesn’t know if ward knew he was barry’s companion in this little venture. he’d insisted they wear bandanas over their faces, but rafe is pretty sure ward would know his son in a heartbeat regardless.

he doesn’t even want to think about it. about the fact that ward shot barry, or that he probably would’ve shot rafe too if rafe hadn’t had the presence of mind to shove both barry and himself out of the nearest window, plunging into the bushes below before ward could get off another shot.

another shot on the person he more than likely knew to be his son.

ward had continued taking shots as rafe dragged barry across the yard and into the treeline, disappearing from view.

now, they’re back at the main road, barry collapsing against a tree as he clenches his hand around the wound in his side.

“let me see,” rafe demands, kneeling down and peeling up barry’s shirt despite barry shaking his head.

“ain’t got time, country club,” barry wheezes, trying to push rafe back so he’ll stand up and keep moving.

rafe doesn’t budge, just swipes at the blood with his shirt sleeve to get a better look at the wound. the bullet just grazed him, but it’s enough to warrant stitches at the very least.

“you’re not going to make it to the emergency room like this,” rafe comments absentmindedly, pulling out his phone a firing off a text to topper letting him know he’s going to need to borrow his car.

barry manages to push rafe back an inch this time, shaking his head furiously. “ain’t no way i’m goin’ to no damn hospital. i ain’t got insurance and your daddy done cut you off months ago. how you gonna pay for my little siesta in the ER with them empty pockets?”

and okay, he has a point. rafe will admit that. not to mention, ward has people all over the OBX, and if he sends out word about looking for his son, they’ll surely be caught if they’re trapped in the emergency room.

there’s only one other place rafe can think to go. one place where ward won’t know to look, one place where barry can get some medical help without having to shell out a fortune.

rafe may have to grovel a bit (or a lot), but he’ll do it. damn it, he’ll fucking do it because barry is going to bleed out if he doesn’t and that would really fucking suck because rafe was just starting to sort of like him.

he must’ve said that last part out loud, because barry manages to glare at him and say, “quit that shit. we been dating for a year, dickhead.”

then barry sort of slumps to the side, and rafe has to all but carry him to topper’s place.

rafe has just gotten the keys topper keeps in the cupholder into the ignition when he looks at his phone, seeing a text from top.

can’t let u borrow the car tonight, have a thing in the morning. srry bud.

rafe glances over at barry, who’s blacked out in the passenger’s seat, fresh blood still seeping out of his shirt.

“sorry about this, top,” rafe says to himself, turning the key and hearing the engine roar to life. “i’ll get you back later.”

he peels out of the driveway, speeding down the familiar streets until they become more and more unfamiliar, figure eight bleeding into the cut.

he zooms past more and more unfamiliar houses, searching for the only one he knows, starting to feel hopeless, starting to really worry that barry might actually die in the passenger’s seat of his car.

or topper’s car, rather. it’d be super annoying to have to apologize for that on top of having to apologize for stealing it in the first place, to be honest.

then suddenly, rafe is idling outside a house that is both familiar and unfamiliar. the few times he’s been here before, he’d been fucked up beyond belief and fueled by violent anger. it seems almost foreign to him now, while he’s sober as a judge (only due to his current circumstances, mind you) and fueled by nothing but pure adrenaline.

rafe practically drags barry to the house. there are all sorts of lights on, both inside and out, and rafe can hear the sounds of music and laughter drifting out from an open window nearby.

he only hesitates for a moment before circling around the house and banging on the door.

john b answers the door with a smile, a small wad of cash in his hand, clearly expecting some sort of food delivery. his smile fades instantly when he realizes it’s not his pizza or what the fuck ever, and is in fact rafe cameron and a half-dead barry.

“no,” is all john b says before trying to shut the door. rafe kicks his leg out, foot jamming between the door and the frame, preventing john b from closing it.

“fuck off, rafe,” john b grunts as he tries to shut the door. rafe can hear concerned voices from inside the house. “you’re not dragging us into whatever shit this is! literally fuck. off.”

“sarah!” rafe shouts, ignoring john b’s protests. “sarah!”

footsteps, and then sarah is pushing john b out of the way gently, looking at rafe in confusion, then at barry in horror.

“rafe? oh my god, what happened?”

sarah ushers them into the house, and rafe is literally dragging barry at this point. still, no one helps him get barry onto the couch. he manages regardless, but he’s panting when it’s all said and done, sliding down onto the floor with a grunt.

“i need you to help him,” rafe says, and he’s looking at pope, who’s seated in the corner beside jj, a guitar that he’s no longer strumming still sitting in his lap.

but john b is the one to answer, shaking his head. “no. besides, we can’t even help him. we don’t know how to do shit like that.”

“he does,” rafe says, still looking at pope, who’s now looking at barry thoughtfully.

“what?” kie laughs, looking bewildered. “pope may be smart, yeah, but he doesn’t have a medical degree. this guy needs a doctor.”

“i know how,” pope sighs, and rafe suppresses a smug smile. “i volunteered at the hospital last summer, remember?”

“and you knew this how?” john b asks rafe, accusatory.

“he was on my rounds once,” pope says calmly, leveling rafe with an unreadable look. “alcohol poisoning and a drug overdose all in one night.”

rafe fights the urge to look away, choosing instead to shrug nonchalantly.

“just another night in the cut, right?” rafe asks, arching one brow. “look, we can dredge up my poor life choices later, if it’ll make you all feel better and get your fucking panties out of a wad. but right now he needs help, so are you going to give him that or are you going to let him bleed out on your ugly ass couch?”

“i say let him bleed out,” john b snaps, clearly irked by rafe’s demands and insults.

rafe wants to knock the guy’s teeth down his throat, but he just breathes steadily through his nose. just like barry has been teaching him. “we can’t go to a hospital. no insurance, and ward’s hunting us down as we speak. so do i want to fucking be here? no. but i have to, so name your fucking price and we’ll pay it.”

“besides,” rafe continues, turning his eyes to sarah, challenging her, “you’re not just going to let someone die, are you?”

sarah narrows her eyes, hands perched on her hips. “no, that’s more your style, isn’t it?” then, she looks at pope. “come on, help him. he isn’t dying on john b’s couch. that’s way too creepy for me to deal with right now.”

pope nods and disappears from the room as sarah and john b bicker quietly. kie and jj glare daggers at rafe, while also eyeing barry, lying on the couch looking far more dead than alive.

when pope reappears, he has a first aid kit in one hand and a sewing kit in the other. he shoos rafe out of the way. rafe just scoots a little further to the left to give pope room, but stays close to barry.

“rafe, we need to talk,” sarah says after a moment. “outside?”

rafe shakes his head. “not until i know he’s okay.”

the room falls silent, and rafe looks around, glaring. “what, it’s illegal to care about people now? fuck off.”

“so do you want us to like… give you a room, or something? maybe some champagne and rose petals? we could get some ambient beats going, really set the mood, you know- ”

kie throws a pillow at jj, effectively shutting him up. “gross, jj. don’t put that image into my head.”

“look, whatever,” sarah interrupts, rolling her eyes. “but once he’s patched up, we’re having a conversation.”

rafe puts his hands up in mock surrender. “your house, your rules.”

he’s only trying to irritate john b, and it works. rafe smiles to himself when john b starts grumbling about it being his house actually, storming off to his room, undoubtedly to pout. sarah follows, and kie and jj trail after them a moment later. jj is the only one to look back, throwing a concerned look in pope’s direction before inevitably disappearing into john b’s bedroom.

rafe looks back at barry, all smugness disappearing from his expression when he sees just how bad the wound really is now that pope has cleaned it up a bit.

he really doesn’t care if he has to talk to sarah later - all he knows is that if barry dies, he’s sure as hell not going to be outside listening to sarah bitch at him when it happens.

rafe takes one of barry’s hands, ignoring the way pope’s eyes flicker down to the movement before returning to his work, remaining silent.

“you love him,” pope says suddenly, still not looking at rafe. he’s began sewing up the wound, his hands surprisingly steady.

“what’s it to you?” rafe asks defensively, but he curls his fingers tighter around barry’s, a little possessively.

pope just shrugs, like he doesn’t really care one way or another. “just an observation.”

he ties off the thread and cleans up the remaining dried blood from the wound with a rubbing alcohol-soaked cotton ball before applying a bandage and tugging barry’s shirt back down. it’s a lost cause, the shirt, but rafe appreciates the gesture anyway.

“it’s good to know you care about someone other than yourself,” pope says, finally turning towards rafe and giving him a hard look. “maybe there’s hope for assholes like you after all.”

rafe opens his mouth to say something bitchy back, but pope just claps him on the shoulder, stands and cracks his back, then leaves the room.

it’s just rafe and a passed out barry now. at least this way he can openly worry about his boyfriend, gnawing on his lip as he thinks about what it’ll be like if barry doesn’t make it.

rafe has been living with barry for some time now, ever since ward kicked him out. it’d started with sarah - she’d ran away and no one had known where. rafe ended up finding out through topper, but never seemed to get around to telling ward. don’t ask him why - he really doesn’t fucking know.

after sarah’s disappearance, ward’s temper reached its peak and rafe was kicked out mere weeks after his sister had gone missing. he stayed with topper for a while at first, often making trips to the cut to harass the dirty pogues who’d whisked his sister away from their supposedly happy family and her happy relationship with one of rafe’s closest friends.

when topper’s mother got sick of rafe loitering around her house, the only place left to go was barry’s. it’d helped that they’d already been screwing around for a while, initially so rafe could get discounts on coke, then turning into a full blown something over time.

their relationship has a definition now. barry had manhandled rafe into bed one evening and declared them to be officially official. meaning a relationship, meaning a bunch of figuring shit out as he goes because rafe sure as shit has never done any of this before.

he’s also pretty sure other relationships don’t involve hard drugs and robberies and shootings, so he thinks he’s got a few more obstacles to overcome than most when traveling the rocky road of a first relationship.

“rafe?” sarah calls, suddenly re-entering the room. “think we can talk now?”

rafe looks at her for a long moment. she looks different - happier, maybe? rafe wonders if he looks the same. maybe not right at this moment, with barry’s limp, clammy hand resting between his own, waiting on bated breath for barry’s eyes to blink open.

the need to hear barry’s slow drawl of coUnTrY cLUuUb is almost too much to bear, so rafe cuts his line of thought off, nods at sarah in answer to her question, and follows her outside.

they don’t talk for a long while, just staring out across the yard in silence. it’s not uncomfortable, per se, but rafe still wishes she’d say what she wants to say so he can get back inside. back to barry.

“this is a one time deal, you know,” sarah finally tells him.

when he looks at her from the corner of his eye, she’s staring directly at him, her expression serious. “i know,” is all he can come up with.

“i expect a thank you, just so you know.”

“i’m not thanking you,” rafe says immediately.

sarah actually smiles, just a little bit, then parrots back, “i know.”

“what did you want to talk to me about?” rafe asks eventually, pulling a cigarette from the pack he keeps in his pocket and lighting up.

sarah doesn’t answer for a moment, then shrugs, looking down at her hands. “i hate you, for the way you’ve treated me. and my friends. but sometimes i miss you. i miss my brother. what happened to you?”

it’s almost like she’s just thinking aloud, but rafe knows it’s a genuine question. one he doesn’t have an answer to. because he doesn’t really know where he went wrong - just that he could never seem to get anything right. not as a kid, not as a teenager, and not now as an adult.

“i don’t know,” rafe answers honestly, for the first time in a long time. he doesn’t know what else to say, so he tells her, simply, “but thank you for helping anyway.”

yeah, yeah. he wasn’t going to thank her, blah blah blah. whatever, shit happens.

the back door swings open, and rafe and sarah turn to watch barry stumble out of the house, still clutching his side but finally looking like a living, breathing person instead of a corpse.

“ain’t i tell you them things gonna rot your lungs?” is the first thing he says, plucking the cigarette from rafe’s lips and taking a drag.

rafe rolls his eyes, but lets barry rope him into a hug, careful not to bump into his wound.

“ugh, gross,” sarah huffs, making fake gagging noises before going back inside. rafe doesn’t miss the small smile that’s playing on her lips, though, and he’s suddenly filled with warmth.

it’s disgusting, and he’s surprised that he’s missed it. and that maybe, deep down, he’s missed his sister, too.

she said this is a one time deal, but maybe there’s a possibility of reconciliation. it’s a thought to revisit at a later date, rafe decides, wanting to focus on this moment right here, where barry is blessedly alive and safe.

so rafe just leans down a bit and buries his face in barry’s neck, taking a deep breath, feeling barry inhale and exhale around his cigarette as they stand in each other’s arms, companionable silence falling around them.

“you done saved my life, country club,” barry says, the first to break the silence.

rafe smiles against barry’s neck at the nickname, pressing a kiss to barry’s pulse point before pulling back a bit to look at him.

“yeah, you’re the only one who knows how to empty the septic tank,” rafe replies, deadpan.

barry throws his head back and laughs, one hand coming up to cradle the back of rafe’s head, pulling him down gently so he can press a kiss to his forehead.

“damn good thing you saved my ass, then.”

“sure is.”

when barry kisses rafe, he tastes like tobacco and blood, sour and metallic on his tongue. rafe should think it’s gross, but he just kisses barry harder, trying to scrub all the thoughts he’d had about barry dying from his memory.

it helps to have barry here, real and solid in rafe’s arms, lips soft against his own.

“can we get outta this shithole and back to our shithole?” barry asks when they separate, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “‘m pretty sure them shits would object to us christening their couch.”

rafe, for a moment, is tempted to try just to see what kind of reaction he’d get. but instead of following the urge, he lets barry guide him back to topper’s stolen car.

“who’s ride is this?” barry asks when they’re both buckled in, backing away from the routledge property.

“topper’s,” rafe explains, smirking to himself. “i, uh. borrowed it for the time being.”

“for the time being?” barry questions, and when rafe looks at him, barry is looking right back, brows raised and amusement written all over his face.

“mhm,” rafe confirms, matter-of-factly.

barry just glances around the car, a slow smirk spreading across his lips. “sweet ride. think ol’ topper’d object to a little christening, too?”

rafe starts the car, letting his own smirk grow. “as a matter of fact, i think he would.”

barry blinks at him, then stares at his nails casually.

“so where we gonna park her?”

rafe just smiles, peeling away from the routledge house, cruising into the night.

“i know just the place.”

[thunderheadfred]

🤚Shigaraki HC's🤚

Part 1 of my Shigaraki Thesis HCs. The Second Worst: 1 - 2

This was rough because even though Shigaraki is one of my favorite characters of all time, I have nothing sexy to say about him canonically.

that's a lie, i'm lying. i had to break this post into parts, that's how much of a liar liar pants on fire i am

Warnings for quite possibly everything. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

Okay first of all:

You know it. I know it. We all know it. This man is not boyfriend material. He disintegrates boyfriend material for fun.

You don’t want to date this man.

Frankly, you can’t date this man.

Seriously. Run.

If you’re a villain, you’re his underling. Maybe, if you squint, you’re kind of like his... um... least-hated workplace associate. What do you want, a trophy?

If you’re a hero, good luck not dying horribly. Maybe you’d make a cute hostage. Hope you can escape cuz he is NOT letting you out alive.

If you’re a civilian, perhaps that’s the best case scenario. He stalks you a little before he becomes infamous. You go on the worst date of your life but luckily you don't tell him where you live. Later you see him on the news standing in a pile of rubble and you just think, “ohhhhhhh.”

If he somehow, impossibly, against all odds, manages to develop a single affectionate feeling toward you, AFO is going to hunt you down for sport. You are NOT getting in the way of world domination. Again, good luck with that.

If somehow you managed to clear all those hurdles and kiss Shigaraki Tomura square on the lips, I can see one of two things happening.

1) You’re his body pillow now. Goodbye sunlight. You live in his room. He doesn’t have to chain you to the bed, because you know escape is pointless. Congratulations, the end is nigh.

2) Total mind break. At the first sign of genuine human affection, his trauma vault is instantly unlocked. Memories come rushing in, his quirk goes nuts. There’s like a 99.9% chance he’ll accidentally kill you and it will destroy his soul forever. But let’s say you’re the lucky 0.01% - then it’s time to fuck off together to a foreign country. He’s terrified, traumatized, and possibly broken beyond repair, but I guess he’s not a villain anymore? Have fun nursing him back to... semi-sanity.

Moral of the story: you’re better off getting hit with a quirk that takes you to an alternate universe where the worst thing Shimura Tenko ever did was throw a Playstation controller at his sister’s head. He’s an aspiring video game journalist with zero charisma and severe self-image issues. He has no earthly idea how hot he is. Please, for the love of God, fall for that guy instead.

haha just kidding

join me in hell, fellow Shigaraki fuckers:

- - - - -

Scenario the first:

so apparently you enjoy living in a cage?

Listen. He does not smell right. He doesn’t need to bathe much because his skin is constantly annihilating itself. So he’s not exactly dirty, but every instinct in your body is screaming in confusion, unsure if he’s alive or dead.

Breath of the damned. Sweet as moldy lemons. Whatever he eats just... rots. He doesn't produce enough spit.

He will kiss you very deeply. Until you choke. Forget the cold, chapped lips because they're the least of your problems. He's got those skeleton hands caging your face and you're trapped against a wall and his gigantic biting teeth are prying you open. He licks inside your mouth like he's trying to steal your soul. He'll probably succeed.

His hair is exactly as soft as it looks. Too bad you'll never get to touch it.

He’s either got no sexual impulses at all and will laugh at you for trying, or he’s a full-on incel. I don’t know which one. I don’t want to find out. Apparently you do, and I salute your resolve.

You will be lucky if Shigaraki treats you like a pet. He loves his Nintendo DS more than you.

Consent is not applicable. You showed interest in him once, now you're his plaything forever. There's a power imbalance between you so wide you could chuck a planet in there.

Safewords? lol

Doesn't want to break you, because what would be the point? He's already broken enough things. He wants to keep you around for a good long while. He'll take good, good care of you.

Unless you disobey.

Obsessed with making you cum whether you want to or not. Yes, this IS a high score thing. It's just so flattering. Say hello, orgasm torture. Was that another one? Aww. You barely moved. Oh, what's that? You're begging him to stop? Haha. He won't.

Don't cry. He'll drink your tears.

He'll touch you everywhere with bare fingers. Slow, feather-light strokes, like some kind of demented ASMR artist. This is not a trust exercise. He knows exactly how much it terrifies you.

Oh yeah. You're getting finger FUCKED. Do you fantasize about having a loaded gun shoved inside you? Same difference.

Will eat you out like nothing else, but not in bed. That's the kind of shit he does on a boardroom table where anybody could walk in and see you writhing. Spreads you WIDE open and sucks on you. Makes out with your asshole. The whole nine yards. It's wet and loud and nasty.

Only time you're out of his sight (and not locked in your room) is when he shoves a remote control vibrator where the sun doesn't shine. Operates it through an app while he calls you and jerks off. Wants to make your knees fail on a crowded train.

Come here. You get to sit on his lap like a dog. Four fingers on your throat, dick hard under your ass. He'll dry hump you in front of God, the Devil, and everyone else.

If he's playing video games, you're cock-warming. He does not care which hole. He won't even look at you.

He might get hard but he does not get naked. You do not know Shigaraki Tomura on a personal level. You have only the vaguest idea what his dick looks like. It feels long and thin, almost sharp. Maybe he's actually been fucking you with an ice pick this whole time. His hip bones dig into you and bruise. He likes to kiss and bite the marks he leaves.

He mocks you for being so fucking pathetic. Have you always been a such a needy slut or is he really that special? What is wrong with you? Even he thinks you're crazy.

Shigaraki won't kill you, but All For One will.

- - - - -

The Second Worst Scenario:

The half-mad ghost of Shimura Tenko is in love with you, and your life is about to become a tragic wreck.

(this half of the post went completely off the rails and turned into like... a whole-ass Victorian Novel)

[sequinsmile-x]

Bait

In which Aaron looks like the victims of the case they are on, and Emily does not like Dave's suggestion that they use her boyfriend as bait.

This was originally meant to be a mini fic for here, but in a way that is very on brand I got carried away and now its a full on one shot.

Words: 4k 

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence 

Read on AO3 via this link, or below the cut

Let me know what you think! 

Emily wakes to the sounds of a phone ringing. She groans when the arm that had been wrapped around her waist moves, leaving the chill from the air to hit her skin.

“Hotchner.” His voice was rough with the early morning, and it was clear he’d had very limited sleep. She settles down further into the bed, trying to claim the last few moments of rest before they have to leave. “Ok thanks, Garcia. Call the others and tell them to go straight to the jet.”

He hangs up and lays back down behind her. He closes the gap between them, pressing his naked chest up against her back. He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her closer, nudging hair away from her neck with his nose so he can kiss her throat.

“Morning.” He says, nuzzling her neck. “We’ve got a case in Colorado. We’re meeting on the jet and Garcia is going to brief us in full once we’re wheels up.” He kisses the side of her head. “She’ll call you soon.”

“It’s way too early.” She grumbles, opening one eye to see it was only just 4am. She bats at him when he laughs into her neck. He grabs her hand and kisses her knuckles, laughing when she grumbles again, curse words whispered at him under her breath.

The longer they had been together, now 6 months since his fumbled attempt at asking her out on their first date, the more she felt uncomfortable that they were keeping this from the team. It was starting to feel like a dirty secret, when it was anything but. They loved each other, they’d had a serious conversation about their future. Discussions of a house, a wedding and children whilst laying in the dark together. But they still hadn’t taken that step, still hadn’t told the people they considered their family that they were a couple. Emily knows it’s because they were in too deep now, too far into this secret to claw their way out without there being some uncomfortable conversations.

She knew they’d be happy for them, but it would open their relationship that had been almost exclusively just for them up to scrutiny. The others would watch them, try to observe their behaviour around each other. Their relationship meant too much to her for it to be profiled like the criminals they chased.

She was surprised they hadn’t caught it at JJ’s wedding. Her and Aaron had danced together, his hand a little too low on her back for it to be considered friendly. How they had both disappeared into Dave’s house at the same time, gone for 30 minutes with poor excuses for their absence upon their return. She still couldn’t go into Dave’s first floor bathroom without blushing, memories of her pushed up against the door with Aaron’s hand over her mouth. His joy at her decision to stay, to turn down Clyde’s offer of a job across an ocean, was too great for them to wait until they got back to his home or hers.

Her phone rings and she sighs as she extracts herself from his embrace just enough to pick up her cell phone from the nightstand. “Hey, Pen.”

Emily tries to listen to Penelope as she gives her the same basic details she had given Aaron only moments before, but she is distracted by his lips against her neck, his hand drifting down her abdomen. She manages to catch it with her spare hand, gripping a little harder than necessary when she links their fingers, throwing him a look over her shoulder.

She hangs up the phone with a goodbye to Penelope, hoping the other woman hadn’t heard Aaron’s laugh he had attempted to press into her skin. “That was mean.”

“It’s not my fault you’re irresistible.”

Emily turns over and kisses him, anchoring her hand to the back of his head. She pulls back enough to smile at him. “Do you have a suit here?”

Aaron nods, kissing her gently. “Yes. And my go-bag is in my car.”

She smiles. “Perfect.” Another kiss. “That means we have time for a shower before you have to go.” _____________

When she steps onto the jet the only seat left is next to Aaron. He looks at her, an eyebrow raised as she sits next to him.

“You’re late, Prentiss.”

She looks at him pointedly, a subtle narrowing of her eyes that she knows he catches.

“Sorry, sir.” She says, biting back the temptation to say it was his fault she was late in the first place, their joint shower lasting twice as long as it should have done. He’d left her at her place less than half an hour ago, a kiss pressed to her lips as she was drying her hair, a promise that he would see her soon. “It won’t happen again.”

Emily fights a smirk at the brief sparkle in his eye. This had become part of their game, pushing the boundaries a little further each time, wondering when the team would catch on to what was going on between them.

They all make small talk as the jet takes off, pointless conversation over cups of coffee. Once they reach altitude Penelope calls and they start to go over the case. Emily freezes when she looks at the pictures of the victims. They are all male. Handsome. White, tall and broad with dark hair.

They all looked like Aaron.

And these men were being viciously beaten to death. She looked up and everyone was still listening to Penelope as she told them the details. It gave her a second to recover, forcing herself to tune back into the conversation around her. ____________

They were struggling to build a profile. The men who were being killed had little in common apart from how they looked and where they were being killed. The only bar in town, a dingy place that reminded Emily too much of her misspent youth.

On the second day they were in town another man was found dead in the alley behind the bar, his face beaten almost beyond recognition. Emily went and delivered the news to his widow, and desperately tried to ignore how much the man in the pictures displayed on the walls looked like Aaron.

She barely sleeps that night. They were good on cases, rarely sneaking into each other's rooms. She knew he had to have seen it too, that she wasn’t imagining how similar the victims looked to him, so she didn’t want to burden him with it. She didn’t want to make this about how it was making her feel. So she stayed in her room, and eventually drifted off to sleep in a bed she wished he was in too.

Emily wakes up gasping, images of Aaron’s dead body in that alley burned into her eyelids.

She doesn’t sleep again that night, and is grateful when he presses a coffee into her hands in the morning, his thumb discreetly skating over her knuckles. ____________

“What shall we do now?” JJ asks. There were concerns that the unsubs, because they had figured there must be more than one person given the size of the men being killed, would strike again that night. The devolution of their actions indicated that there would be an attack a night until they were caught.

“We just so happen to have someone on the team that matches the victim profile.” Dave says, acknowledging what none of them had said out loud in the three days they had been in Colorado. Everyone looks at Aaron expectantly, and Emily thinks she has never been closer to killing David Rossi. “We could plant you at the bar where the victims have gone missing from, see if we can draw the unsub in.”

“And what?” Emily says, somehow keeping her voice even. “Use Hotch as bait?”

“It’s our only option.” Aaron says, a flash of apology across his face as he briefly looks at her. “I can’t exactly wear this to a club.” He says gesturing to his suit. “I very clearly look like an FBI agent.”

Derek and Dave laugh at his attempt at humour, Emily does not.

“Hotch.” She says evenly, her voice not betraying the emotions that were tumbling around in her chest. He turns to look at her, his face neutral. “Can I have a quick word?” She tilts her head towards an empty office and he nods and follows. If the others think it's odd that she wants to speak to him alone they don’t say anything.

“I don’t like this, Aaron.” She says as soon as the door closes behind them, her voice a rushed whisper, not wanting anyone to potentially overhear if they walked past the tiny office. He opens his mouth to speak, but she talks again, cutting him off before he can even start. “We don’t know enough how the unsubs are doing this. Or why they are doing it. It’s too risky.”

“Emily.” Aaron says, his voice soft in a way he only usually used with her when they were alone, tangled up in his sheets or hers, or snuggled together on one of their couches. It makes her sigh, and she closes her eyes to briefly break eye contact with him, knowing he is about to convince her exactly why he had to do this despite her reservations. “We have no other choice. I fit the victimology and we can’t risk them killing someone else.”

“What if this was the other way around?” She asks, crossing her arms across her chest as she tries to reason with him. “Are you seriously telling me that you’d be fine with me going in there? That you’d be ok with me being used as bait after you’d spent the last few days looking at pictures of bodies of people who looked exactly like me?”

Aaron opens his mouth to disagree with her, but a simple raise of her eyebrows stops him. “No, I wouldn’t be ok. But we have no other choice.”

“I don’t like it.” She repeats, defeat making her voice shake slightly.

Aaron turns to look out of the window of the office they are in, and when the coast is still clear he grabs her hand, running his thumb back and forth over her wrist. “It will be fine, sweetheart.”

Emily nods, the protest that he doesn’t know everything would be fine dying in her throat. All she could do was sit back and watch as he put himself at risk. Her love for him stuffed into a box in her head where no one else could see it, the privilege JJ had of breaking down publicly when Will was in the bank not afforded to her. She squeezes his hand back, and wishes more than anything that she could kiss him.

“If anything happens to you, even just a scratch, I’m teaching Spencer just enough Italian to piss Dave off.”

That makes him laugh, a brief flash of his dimples settling her nerves in her stomach. “I would expect nothing less.”

“We should get back.” Emily says, extracting her hand from his. She grasps the lapels of his jacket. “And you’re right, you need to change. You look like a fed.” ____________

Emily keeps staring at the monitor, the CCTV from the bar displayed for the team to watch in the back room they were in. She keeps her eyes on Aaron, her thumbnail in between her teeth, as they waited for any sign that the unsubs were around. That someone besides them was watching him.

“You ok there, princess?” Derek asks, drawing her attention towards him. He is eyeing her curiously. “Worried about the boss?”

She can feel Dave and JJ’s eyes on her too, she pulls her thumb out of her mouth and clears her throat. “I’m just not comfortable with this idea.”

“And why is that? Hotch can hold his own.” He replies, an edge to his voice she doesn’t like.

“It’s because Emily and Hotch are sleeping together.” Spencer says without looking away from the monitors, his eyes still on Aaron.

“What?” Derek asks, snapping his head in Spencer’s direction.

“How the hell did you know, Reid?” Emily says, turning to Spencer. She always figured that it would be Dave who would have figured it out. His meddling tendencies well known.

Spencer turns to look at her, taking his attention off of the CCTV footage. “You’re both happier but trying to hide it. Jack said your name 9 times the last time we were all together, indicating that he is spending more time with you in a personal capacity, and you and Hotch both came to work this morning smelling of the same soap.” He explains, Emily’s blush deepening as he spoke. “Not to mention I saw you kissing in the parking garage last month.”

“You’ve known for a month?” JJ says, smacking his shoulder lightly. “Why didn’t you say anything?

Spencer shrugs, looking back at Emily. “I figured they weren’t telling us for a reason.”

“You are a terrible gossip.” Dave says before looking back at Emily. “So how long has this been going on?”

Emily sighs and rolls her eyes, wishing that this wasn’t happening now of all times, that she could at least have Aaron with her for back up.

“6 months.”

“6 months.”

She says at the same time as Spencer. She looks at him again, unable to cover her surprise at the fact he had apparently known all along.

“6 months?” Derek exclaims, genuine surprise on his face. “Why did you keep it from us that long?”

“Guys.” Spencer says, trying to interrupt the conversation but failing.

“We just did, ok?” She says, crossing her arms across her chest. “We were going to tell you.”

“Guys.” Spencer says again, firmer this time interrupting whatever Derek was about to say. They all look at him, varying degrees of annoyance on their faces. “Where is Hotch?”

Emily felt like ice water had been poured over her, fear flooding her veins as her head snapped back towards the screens. Her eyes flicked across each image displayed and she couldn’t see him anywhere.

“Derek.” She chokes out, her voice not quite sounding like her own.

“Shit.” Derek exclaimed, already striding out of the room, Emily and the rest of the team on his heels. ____________

They find him in the alley behind the bar, two men holding him down as they punch him, one of them managing to kick his ribs. There’s no time to figure it out, no time to wonder how the hell they got Aaron out of the bar in the two minutes they had been distracted.

“FBI.” Derek yells, his gun drawn and pointing at them, local cops right behind him with their guns raised too. The unsubs try to make a break for it, but don’t manage it. Derek being a little too hard with the takedown of one of them.

Emily doesn’t even think about what she does as soon as they are apprehended. She’s naturally drawn to Aaron’s side, helping him sit up.

“What the hell happened?” She asks, wincing as she takes in the blood on his face. His nose was bleeding, and his left eye was already bruising. She cups his face in her hands, thumbs gently moving over tender flesh.

He tries to shy away from her touch, his eyes on JJ and Spencer standing behind her. She turns to look at them and raises an eyebrow, both of them averting their gazes. She turns back to look at Aaron, a shy smile on her face.

“Everyone knows.”

He furrows his brow at her. “How?”

“That’s not important right now.” She says, cupping his face, wiping some of the blood that had gathered at the bottom of his nose away with her sleeve. “What happened? We had our eyes off of you for two minutes and you were gone.”

“I spotted them, they fit the partial profile we had.” He explains, as if it was obvious. “So I followed them.”

“What were you thinking?” She exclaims, smacking him in the shoulder, hard, before grabbing his face again and kissing him. “That was so stupid, Aaron.” She kisses him again.

Emily wraps her arms around him tightly, pulling him into a hug that makes him wince. She lets go instantly, her hands on his shoulders as she looks him over for any other obvious injuries.

“Shit, sorry. Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m ok.” He gets out, his face screwed up in pain despite his attempt at assuring her. “They just got a few good kicks to my ribs.”

She looks around, sees a paramedic standing back waiting for the scene to be cleared. “We need to get you looked at.”

“Em, I’m fine.” He protests, his breathlessness at the act of standing up giving him away as he pushes himself up off the ground.

She glares at him. “You are not fine, Aaron. You just had the shit kicked out of you by two men who wanted to kill you.” She holds his hand, links her fingers through his and gently tugs him towards where the ambulance is parked. “Let the nice paramedic look at you before I kill you myself.” ____________

He needed to get x-rays done. The paramedic was concerned that his ribs could be broken, and therefore insisted he went to the hospital to get checked out. Aaron tried to talk him out of it. He’d had broken ribs before, and claimed he knew how to handle them, but then he had looked at Emily’s face, how concerned she was, and he stopped resisting.

Emily was sitting nervously next to the gurney he was on whilst they waited for the results of the scans he had on arrival.

“Em.” Aaron says, making her look up at him from the spot she was staring at on the floor. “I’m ok.”

“You’re ok because we found you when we did.” She scoffs, shaking her head. “If we’d been only a couple minutes later…”

“But you weren’t.” He reaches out for her hand and she accepts it, fiercely holding his one hand between both of hers. “I’m ok.” He repeats, pulling their joint hands to his lips so he could kiss her knuckles.

“I love you.” She says, a sad smile on her face as she has to stop herself from looking at the dried blood on his shirt, or at how his eye was now swollen shut. She interrupts him before he can reciprocate, repeat the words back to her that they had only said out loud for the first time a few weeks ago, even though their actions had shown it long before. “You put yourself in unnecessary danger today.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me, Aaron.” She says, moving so she was sat on the edge of the gurney. She leans down and presses her forehead to his, not caring how ridiculous she would look to anyone who walked in. Her FBI bullet proof vest is still on over her sweater, her gun on her hip. “You can’t do that.” She pulls back to look at him. “You can’t, ok?”

“Em, our jobs are dangerous.”

“I know that.” She replies through slightly gritted teeth. “We both have scars to prove it. But today didn’t need to happen.”

“It was a measured risk.”

“A measured risk that could have cost me you.” She says, her voice finally wavering. “I can’t lose you.” He opens his mouth to talk but she presses a finger to his lips. “And you can’t say that I won’t, love. We both know you can’t promise that. But you don’t have to offer yourself up to unsubs like a lamb to slaughter, ok?”

He clearly disagrees with her, she can see it written all over his face, and on some level she knows she isn’t being reasonable. That the emotion of the day is clouding her judgement, in a way she usually wouldn’t let it. He nods though, presses a kiss to the finger still against his lips and it makes her laugh.

“Ok.” ____________

He has three fractured ribs and several bruised ones. He initially refuses painkillers but Emily convinces him to take them, memories of how painful take off on the jet had been after her beating at the hands of Cyrus all those years ago.

Aaron falls asleep against her. He is sitting slightly slumped in his seat, his head leaning on her shoulder. His breath makes her hair tickle against her neck and it calms her, reminds her that he was still there, that he was still alive.

Emily looks up from her paperwork to the sound of a throat clearing, and she sees Derek sliding into the chair opposite her, a curious look on his face. The team had met them back at the jet. Dave explained that the unsubs were brothers, finding men who reminded them of their father who had all but drank himself to death in that very bar when they were young. It seemed so banal, so stereotypical to Emily it infuriated her.

The team clearly had questions about what they had discovered about her and Aaron, but they were silent about it. Emily wondered how long that would last, if they would at least wait until Aaron could see out of his left eye again before they started asking about their relationship.

“Can the Spanish inquisition wait at least until tomorrow, Derek? I’m tired.” She asks, a quirk to her smile.

He holds his hands up, mock surrender on his face. “I’ll leave it for now, Princess. But if you think for one second that our beloved technical analyst will do the same, you are kidding yourself.”

Emily laughs at that, before groaning. “She’s going to be delighted.” She says, looking briefly at Aaron before looking back at Derek. “She’s been trying to tell me to give this a chance for years.”

“Really?” Derek asks, his eyebrow raised.

“Oh yeah.” She replies, a smile on her face. “It’s a common topic on ladies night.”

Derek smiles and looks at her curiously. “You love him?”

Emily bites her lip “Yeah.” She nods. “I love him.”

“I’m happy for you, Emily. For both of you.” He stands, heads back to where he had been trying to nap before he had walked over, but he turns back to her. “You owe us all dinner. Somewhere fancy.”

Emily barks out a laugh, briefly disturbing Aaron from his slumber on her shoulder. “Whatever you say, Morgan.” _______________

She takes him back to her place. It was too late to get Jack from Jessica’s, and she figured he’d want some time to prepare his son for his injuries anyway.

He’s pretty out of it from the pain and the medication, but she gets him into her bed, managing to get him down to just his briefs and under her covers. She quickly gets ready for bed herself, forgoing her usual skincare routine with just a swipe of a makeup wipe over her face.

She climbs into bed next to him, careful to put more distance between the two of them than she usually would. She turns the lamp off and settles into her pillows, ready to try and get some sleep.

“What are you doing all the way over there?” He asks, his words thick with sleep.

Emily rolls onto her side and reaches out for him, stroking her fingers over his shoulder. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You never could.”

Emily suppresses a smile in the darkness. His inhibitions were always lowered at night in one of their bedrooms, his affection for her blowing over her like a warm breeze. “Baby, you have broken ribs.”

“Come here.” He reaches out for her and she moves towards him, not wanting him to hurt himself any further by dragging her across the bed. He shifts, grimacing as he does, and rests his head on her shoulder. “That’s better.”

She laughs. “We can’t sleep like this. It won’t do either of our backs any good.”

“Just 5 minutes.”

“Ok, honey.” She says, kissing the top of his head. “5 minutes.”

“Love you, Emily.”

“I love you, too.”

[white-collar-lawmen-and-conmen]

Pulse Point

A/N: Requested by anonymous. Warning for canon-typical violence; minor character death, nightmares, and post-traumatic stress. Also: borrowed Dr. Sweets from the show Bones.

Summary: A near-death experience leaves you with recurrent nightmares. Neal offers some comfort.

Word Count: 5,154

The steady beeping of hospital equipment was driving you insane. It had been hours now of nothing except the monotonous noise of your own heartbeat. If it didn’t shut up soon, you would claw your ears off. With a stiff body and an ache that penetrated down to your bones, you forced your body upright and pinched open the pulse monitor on your right hand.

You let out a relieved sigh as the equipment went silent and dropped yourself back onto the well-padded pillows behind you. The pulse monitor clattered to the floor on its long white cord and you settled down for a nap. The ache in your bones made you feel heavy, like lead. There was nothing quite like a well-deserved nap.

In mere seconds after you had closed your eyes, the equipment started acting up again, this time blaring one long, constant shriek. The surprise made your heart skip a beat, but your eyelids were too heavy to look and see what had happened. Then your heart kept skipping, and your throat tightened. You couldn’t breathe. Your chest burned. It wasn’t a heartbeat; it was a flatline.

You were dying.

The leaden feeling in your body doubled. Your muscles didn’t respond to trying to move and you couldn’t force your lungs to take in a breath. Footsteps pounded around you, incoherent shouts going in one ear and out the other. You were desperate for your paralyzed eyes to open. Was this what you’d have for the rest of your life? Nothing but darkness and unintelligible, mind-numbing noise, punctuated by electrical humming and the pain of a vice clamping itself again to your finger?

The flatline paused for a second. Your ears rang and you thought, for a moment, that you were safe, your heart was beating again. Instead, your stomach twisted and you realized you were losing feeling in your toes. No blood. No life. When the screech of your flatline came back again, it was louder, more piercing. The shrillness reminded you of screaming.

As soon as you remembered it, it was there – the same screaming as before, somewhere in your room, echoing from every corner. In the next pause of the flatline, it turned into a hoarse shriek and a plea. “No! Please!”

You couldn’t hear anything underneath it, no more overlapping voices, and your panic increased. Where were the doctors? Did they think you were gone? Help me!

Your eyes opened with a sudden snap, the droning of your alarm clock replacing the flatlining of the monitor.

As you stared at your ceiling, you panted for breath. Rationally, you knew, you had probably never stopped breathing, but in the panic of your nightmare, it felt like you’d been smothered. Terror powered your desperate gasps and convinced you that your feet and hands were numb, even as you could feel that one foot was poking out from the end of your blanket. After a long moment, you dared to move your arm, ready to scream if you weren’t dreaming after all and still couldn’t move. You turned your alarm off easily.

Soft rain pattered against the glass windows, creating shiny-looking streaks as droplets collected and streamed down the side of the building. It was much more soothing than the silence that usually reigned in Dr. Sweets’ office when he was waiting for you to talk. Maybe he should invest in one of those noise machines with rain as an option. You thought about making the suggestion, but knowing him, he would probably call you out on the procrastination, or deflection, or whatever else he wanted to call it.

You broke the silence. “I’m certain I can wait you out for the next…” You checked the clock. “Twenty-seven minutes.”

Dr. Sweets raised his eyebrows, still leaning his head on a closed fist, propped on the arm of his chair. “I’m equally certain I can recommend you remain on desk duty for the next…” He pretended to check his watch. “Twenty-seven weeks.”

You scowled.

Psychological clearance was a bureau mandate after something traumatic occurred during the course of the job. You’d been lucky enough not to need it up to this point, but after… that, you hadn’t been given a choice. Dr. Sweets was a highly qualified psychotherapist, and you were sure that he did amazing things to help a lot of people, but so far you felt neither amazed nor helped.

“Agent L/N, you went through something incredibly harrowing that you were very close to not walking away from.” The psychologist finally took his head off his fist and put his arm down in his lap. At least he’d taken the bait and you weren’t the one starting the discussion. “You were a half-inch or couple minutes from bleeding out.” He pinched his fingers to demonstrate as if you didn’t have a scar on your body that distance from your femoral artery. You’d never be able to forget what half an inch looked like.

“But I did walk away, and the person who did that to me is in prison for the rest of his life.” You crossed your legs, trying to look more comfortable than you felt. You weren’t sure how effective you were going to be at convincing a therapist that you didn’t need therapy, but it was worth the try.

He looked utterly unconvinced. Actually, the jerk looked like he knew exactly what you were trying for and thought it was cute that you thought you could trick him. “Justice, or even retribution, which it feels like you’re leaning towards, doesn’t erase a wrongdoing or its associated harm.”

“I didn’t erase it, I healed from it. I took medical leave, now I’m back.”

“Physically, you healed. It takes a lot longer to heal mentally from those kinds of wounds.”

“Does it?” You challenged.

“I think your nightmares speak for themselves,” Dr. Sweets said pointedly.

You glared at him, at a loss for a quick comeback. You knew you didn’t look like a million bucks, but you hadn’t thought it was that obvious you were losing sleep. If he knew, then the coworkers who spent a lot of time with you must know, too. Especially Neal – nothing got past him. Oh, that was embarrassing.

The nightmares had been recurring for weeks now. They had started once you had a return date to the office, but after actually resuming your work, they had increased in frequency and intensity. They weren’t identical, but they did all share some similarities: some fatal injury had you dying, alone, in the dark, like you almost had in real life. You never got to the point of actually dying in your dreams, you didn’t think, but you were just fine with that. They were bad enough as they were. Yes, they were a sign of trauma and anxiety. But if your mind didn’t heal itself from weeks safe at home, then you knew returning to normal as fast as possible was probably your best bet at getting over what had happened.

“I’m not your enemy here,” the therapist said to you more gently. You couldn’t say he was heartless, even if you didn’t enjoy the half-hour sessions where he tried to talk about your feelings whether you wanted to or not. “My goal is the same as yours. I want you back at work, safely, able to sleep through a night so you don’t jeopardize yourself or the people around you.”

You let out a deep sigh. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me about the affect this has had on you.” Dr. Sweets encouraged, not for the first time. “You’ve accepted what happened. I can see that. But the next step is processing what it means for you, as an agent, as a person… maybe both.”

You felt helpless. What was that supposed to mean? You couldn’t very well tell him you were terrified your job was going to actually get you killed or cost more lives on your watch. When your employer paid your therapist’s bills, you couldn’t fully trust doctor-patient confidentiality. Maybe it was just paranoia, but you couldn’t bring yourself to risk it.

“I can’t sleep,” you admitted. Your tone sounded mournful. In a way, you were mourning for a time when you could sleep through the night and enjoy your days at work. It wasn’t like white-collar crime was your passion, but you did like puzzles, and you did like being around the people you worked with, especially a certain blue-eyed felon. “I keep having nightmares that I’m… injured, and I’m alone.”

“Your wire was jammed and your team didn’t hear you signal for backup.” Dr. Sweets talked slowly, patient and pragmatic as he validated your nightly anxieties. “You expected help, but they didn’t know to come.”

“They did come,” you said with a shrug. “It just… almost wasn’t in time. I know it wasn’t their fault.”

Your words about time felt glued into your ears. Yours had come really close to running out. And for what? Insurance fraud? No amount of money justified murder, and you likewise couldn’t put a price tag on a life. So why were you so eager to leap back into the same job that almost cost you yours?

It was something you had been mulling over since it happened. Your job was dangerous. You had always known that. You’d been shot at, been near explosives… your partner had been abducted by a murderer not that long ago, and your best friend had had guns in his face so often that, honestly, you’d lost count a while ago. Somehow it just hadn’t clicked, you supposed, that you could legitimately die. You were protected by the bureau and your body armor, until that wasn’t enough. Other agents had learned that lesson in a much harder way; being confronted with that was hard to simply get over.

Apparently, your use of the word “fault” led Dr. Sweets to talk to you about guilt and anger around the incident. You didn’t blame your partner or feel angry, except at the man who shot you, but you let him continue around your noncommittal, half-assed answers. You knew he at least suspected you were putting him on again, but you also knew you hadn’t given him much to work with. Then again, he didn’t call you on your bullshit replies, either, so you weren’t quite sure what he thought.

While Dr. Sweets had yet to approve you for field duty, there was still plenty to do at your desk. You pretended not to notice the itch in your legs to go somewhere while you kept yourself busy, preparing documents, performing research, helping delegate and manage case files, and topping off your team’s coffee whenever they got low. You had become even more of a desk jockey than Neal; at least he got to go out with Peter when given the green light. You missed outings with your partner, or really with any other agent.

Comparing yourself to a caged tiger was likely on the dramatic side, so you put it out of your mind and refused to feel sorry for yourself. You understood the protocols and the routines and they were for your benefit as much as the bureau’s. Besides, your team wasn’t treating you like you were fragile or demoted. They leaned on you to help just as much as they ever did, the assignment of duties just went a little differently.

You doodled a cat on your notepad during a meeting. Everyone had great ideas and you tossed in some ways you could contribute when you’d been quiet for a while. Peter’s proposed field op was going to go smoothly. Odds were high that any hiccups could be taken care of by Diana’s swift running of interference. Neal was raring to go and Jones was a little too excited to play the part of an intimidating brute, in your opinion, and Peter was appropriately apprehensive (someone ought to be, after what had happened to you).

“Let’s sleep on it,” Peter decided after looking out the window and seeing how low the sun had sunk. “If we’re all still in agreement in the morning, we’ll set the ball in motion.”

Jones graciously commented, “Good idea. We can all think on it.” He was probably the most cautious of all of you.

“Y/N?” Neal asked. You immediately looked up from your (admittedly lopsided) cat drawing. The forger was still in his chair, even while the others were pulling on their coats and blazers. “You’ve been quiet. Do you have any concerns?”

You shook your head, but not too quickly that it raised suspicion. You could get away with doodling – Peter often turned a blind eye to it; after several years, he’d developed a soft spot for you – but only if you were still paying attention and participating, so you didn’t want to give him a reason to suspect you weren’t.

Peter, Diana, and Jones all said their goodbyes. The two younger agents left the room, but Peter lingered at the doorway.

“Neal, do you want a ride?” He offered.

Neal looked from you to Peter, and then shook his head. “Thanks, but I’ll find my way. You don’t want to be late for roast,” he added when Peter looked unconvinced. After glancing at you, your partner decided that he really didn’t want to be late for roast and left without another look over his shoulder.

Now that you were alone, Neal softened his expression. “Seriously, Y/N, what’s going on?”

“I told you, I’m not worried. We’ve thought of just about everything we can predict.” You said with a straight face, pretending not to know that Neal wasn’t just talking about this specific case anymore.

He wasn’t having it. “Don’t lie to a conman, Y/N,” he chided you with a small, fond smile. “Come on. It’s not just today, you’ve been quiet ever since you came back. It’s not like you.” You raised an eyebrow and pursed your lips, uninterested in talking. Neal reached partway across the table for you but stopped there. It was an invitation but not a command. “I’m worried about you.”

The thing about your history with Neal was that it was a close one. You went from strangers when Peter got him out of Sing Sing to best friends within the span of two years. You trusted him more than you trusted just about anyone, and there hadn’t been a time when one of you needed the other and was turned away. He didn’t come to you when he was upset – seeking out reassurance and comfort was not Neal’s strength, because it involved professing vulnerability – but he never turned you away when you came to offer it, either. Now it seemed to be his turn to do the offering, as he had realized over the last few weeks that you weren’t going to ask.

You reached for his hand and silently sighed in relief at how solid and warm it was to the touch, so unlike the few dreams where you screamed and cried for someone to help and found yourself grasping at tricks that weren’t there. Neal turned his hand to hold yours and gave it a squeeze.

“It’s been so hard, Neal,” you told him reluctantly. “I have no idea how you do it. How you just walk away from all the close calls.”

Neal frowned a little. “I don’t just walk away,” he objected. “I have bad nights. I have bad days. Sometimes I have a whole bad week, or a few bad months.” You knew the latter was a reference to losing Kate, and you sympathetically gripped his hand tighter. “But, you know… there’s always something I can find to focus on instead, and after a while, the things go in the past. I let go.”

That advice was entirely unhelpful. “I’ve been trying to let go,” you said sourly. It wasn’t directed at him, exactly, but moreso at your brain, which was failing in its task of moving past what happened. “It’s not working. I can’t sleep. Sometimes I don’t think I can breathe.”

“It’s not easy,” Neal agreed, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. It was an intimately affectionate gesture that comforted and eased the nerves beginning to bubble in your stomach. “Company helps. The reminder that I have backup, even when it doesn’t come right away. I’ve got Peter, Moz. You.” He met your eyes with a small smile and raised your hand to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles.

“Company?” You echoed uncertainly. If you were unconscious, how was company going to make a difference to what you dreamed about? Then you remembered what you had said to Dr. Sweets about your nightmares always ending with being alone. If you knew, on some level, that you weren’t alone, maybe you would feel safer. “Like, overnight?”

His expression didn’t change to give away whether you were right or wrong. Instead, he just asked, evenly, “Is that what you need?” The way he looked at you then, without judgment in his eyes, but with determination in the set of his jaw, you just knew that whatever you said you needed, Neal would move a mountain to give it to you.

“I’m not sure, but… maybe?” You hesitantly guessed. If it worked, it would be worth the awkwardness. Even just one night of solid sleep would do wonders for how you felt, and it wasn’t like it would be the first time you had stayed with Neal overnight. Long marathons on slow weekends, and the less pleasant nights after Kate’s death, meant he kept an extra toothbrush and a set of your pajamas in his penthouse.

“Okay,” he said right away with nothing but quiet matter-of-factness. It was so comforting to be proven right that you could rely on him to help you with what you needed. His tone just said, you need this, so we’re doing it, full-stop. You just hoped you were right, both so you could finally go eight hours without fearing for your life and so you weren’t inconveniencing him for no reason. “Let’s get dinner on the way. We don’t have to talk about it,” he quickly said, seeing your face. “Whatever you need.”

Everyone should have a friend like Neal, but everyone should find their own, because this one was all yours. If it weren’t for the table in the way, you would’ve launched yourself at him in a tight hug. As it was, you settled for a squeeze of his hand and a grin as wide as you could muster. “Dinner sounds great.”

The stickiness of your pants along your thigh made your hands shake, unable to bring yourself to look at your palms. You knew what you would see all over them. The fire lancing up your thigh told you what you already knew. So did the weakness in your body and the fog in your mind. It was done. The hourglass on the desk was trickling through the last of its sand. Moretti was nowhere to be seen. You couldn’t even die in the presence of a murderer.

There was screaming coming from another room. It was the desperate wail of another agent begging for their life. “No! Please!”

“No,” you mumbled, using all of your energy to turn your head to the doorway. He couldn’t… not now that you were down… you couldn’t even raise your voice to cry for help. You were completely helpless. You couldn’t save him.

Your chest burned with the effort of your heart, ironically helping you to bleed out faster. Your breaths came labored, and then they couldn’t come at all as your vision faded. The dark carpet blurred from a mass of pilled fibers into a solid navy sea. The pain in your leg was excruciating, it was all you could feel; the idea of feeling peace ever again slipping away.

Screaming. Banging. Footsteps. More screaming. Pounding. Shouting. It was all indistinguishable, a mess of men’s voices and loud gunshots. Then, you heard it. Just your name, barely audible above the rest, in a voice that made you strain to see past the blackness.

“Y/N!”

You’d give the rest of your precious seconds away just to see him one last time, just to know he was beside you and you weren’t alone.

“Y/N!”

Footsteps came closer and the pressure on your chest intensified. The blood loss made you dizzy and your body shook.

“Y/N!”

You jolted awake, eyes snapping open in time to see Neal leaning out of the way just in time to avoid your hand flying at his face. You processed slowly that his hands were on your shoulders – had he shaken you? – and it was still dark. You could barely see his face, but his figure was lit from behind by the lamp next to his bed. You could tell from his messy hair that he had been sleeping not long ago, and you felt awful for waking him up.

After cursing, you sat up and gripped the warm blanket on your lap tightly. “I’m sorry,” you said remorsefully, feeling like a fool. Not only hadn’t you been able to sleep through the night, but now you’d ruined his rest, too. You cussed again. “I really hoped being close… just not being at my apartment, alone…”

It had felt like a safe bet off to a good start. You had gotten dinner together near Gramercy Park, then watched a lighthearted movie before turning in for bed. Neal offered to let you take his mattress, but you didn’t want to put him out and you had slept over enough that he didn’t feel like a bad host for letting you insist on the sofa. You’d been out by ten, but now you could guess it had been less than four hours. Your heart was still racing, your leg still tense with an imagined pain.

“It’s okay,” Neal said, sounding unsettled. He kept his hands on your shoulders like he was keeping you grounded on the earth. “Don’t worry about it. It’s okay.”

Neal’s eyes must have already adjusted to the low light, because his aim was spot-on when he lifted a hand from your shoulder to cup your neck instead. His profile ducked and you felt his lips land on your forehead, checking your temperature, signalling forgiveness, and administering reassurance all at once. He rubbed his thumb across your jaw as he stood up straight, releasing you, and walked away around the couch.

You put your legs down in front of you and rubbed your face, exhausted mentally and physically. Helplessness made you want to cry. Time wasn’t healing. Sleeping pills just made it harder to wake up, letting the nightmares ravage your psyche for longer. Not even the proximity of someone you trusted and adored was enough to let go of the past.

The light in the kitchen came on, bright enough to illuminate the studio but far enough away not to be blinding. Neal came back to the couch holding a bottle of water and offered it to you before sitting down. He looked so adorable, still sleepy and with a bit of pink in the side of his face from sleeping with his arm under his pillow. You scolded yourself for even thinking about how cute he was when you were the one who had woken him up.

You sipped at the water. It was so nice and smooth on your throat. You felt fine, now that you were awake, but the vividness of your nightmares always left you feeling parched and you always expected swallowing to hurt as if you had strep. Neal leaned into the back of the couch and put his arm up along the cushions. You capped the water, bent your knees to pull your feet back up onto the furniture, and let yourself lean into his side. Neal dropped his arm softly on your shoulders, holding you in a tender sideways hug.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized again after a couple of minutes. You felt much better, much faster than you usually did, thanks to him, and if you were being fully honest, you were not ready for him to get up and go back to bed, but it wasn’t fair to ask him to stay up cuddling you at god-knows-what-time just because you were a wreck.

“I told you, it’s okay,” Neal said, his voice firm. If you apologized again, you figured he would start scolding you for it, so you let it go.

“I just – I should’ve expected this,” you said with frustration, feeling like you were confessing to knowingly bothering him. “I haven’t been able to sleep well in ages. I keep having these nightmares, I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Neal was quiet for a few seconds, making sure you had said all you were inclined to. Then, knowingly, he asked, “This is about the Moretti case, isn’t it?”

“I can’t let it go,” you said with a whimper. “It won’t leave me alone. Every night, it’s a little bit different, but at its core it’s always the same.”

Neal’s voice cutting through the fog of your nightmare had been a saving grace, giving you peace even in your unconscious, but now that you were awake, you realized with clarity that his voice saying your name wasn’t the only voice you could make out. In fact, you always heard the same thing, every night, no matter what else changed.

“What’s the same, Y/N?” Neal asked you, trying to help. He stroked your upper arm with his open hand. You were already shaking your head. Neal could comfort you all he liked, but he couldn’t bring back the dead. In grief and shame, you turned your head and bent your neck to bury your face in his shoulder. Neal tilted his head so his cheek was resting gently on your hair. “Tell me, darling,” he coaxed in a whisper.

You felt like someone’s hands were wrapped around your throat, strangling your reply. “Agent Flynn,” you answered dryly, barely more than mouthing his name. “In every nightmare, I hear… I hear his last words. Begging Moretti not to take the shot.”

Neal was quiet for a long time, but never pushed you away. He held you closer when you started to shake, crying against him as quietly as you could manage. The artist rubbed your arm and periodically kissed your head, but he knew that there was nothing he could say to erase the horror of what you had heard or take away the guilt that you had survived because Moretti was distracted by taking out the other agent.

Moretti was part of a family gang, often in conflict with the Barellis, who, interestingly, paid a little deference to the white-collar division ever since you and Peter had recovered a stolen Book of Hours. The Morettis had no such connection or gratitude, so their response to the FBI sticking their nose into an embezzling scam was violent and bloody. Moretti shot you in the leg and intended to finish you off, but one of his own men had reported you came with someone. He left you to bleed out, and only a few rooms over, you had heard Flynn’s pleas – and the subsequent gunshot. Your team, wising up to the dead signal, arrived for a takedown before Moretti could make his way back to you, but it was too late for your teammate.

Neal shifted after what felt like forever, only to pull you closer to his chest and wrap both arms around you. You trembled in his embrace, but that just made him hold you closer, like you were delicate and breakable. When he next talked, his low voice was quivering, just like your body.

“I thought we lost you,” he said, cupping the back of your head in a gentle hand. He massaged his fingers into your scalp, even as he kept you cuddled in his lap. “I thought I lost you, Y/N. Two gunshots. I thought…” He struggled to find his words and you hiccuped, trying to stop crying. “I was the one who found you, and I was so scared I was too late.”

You sniffled and uncrossed your arms to melt against his chest and hug him tightly around his waist instead. “I didn’t know you…”

“We found him first, but you weren’t there and I needed to find you.” Neal now sounded equal parts frightened and furious. “If he had taken you away, I would’ve…” He shook his head and pressed his forehead to yours, as desperate to be close to you as you felt to be close to him. “I would’ve shattered. I can’t lose you, Y/N. I just can’t lose you, too.”

“I’m so glad I didn’t die,” you blurted, almost in a sob. You felt so safe with him, but now you knew for a fact that your own safety wasn’t what had been tormenting you. It was a nearly debilitating case of survivor’s guilt. “I just wish I hadn’t been the only one who survived.”

“No one wants that,” Neal promised you, untangling his hand from your hair and stroking it down instead. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could fix this and take it away, but all I can do is be here and hold you and tell you it’s going to be alright. It wasn’t your fault.”

You sniffed. Neal’s words were more of a comfort than you had thought they would be. They changed nothing about the situation, but… you weren’t alone. You hadn’t been alone since you met him. You just agonized that Flynn had been. “Neal, I can’t lose you, either. I love you, you’re… you’re who I’m going to heal for.” You had to find a way.

Neal seized your lips with his in a searing kiss. It wasn’t as sexy or patient as you may have imagined, but you gripped his shirt and gave as good as you got, and wow, the man gave verygood. It was a desperate kiss, needing to bring you together and reaffirm your life. To you, it was the seal of a promise that you wouldn’t let the past crush your spirit. When you could sleep through the night and had a handle on your post-traumatic stress… if he would just be patient, you would be his the way you wanted him to be yours.

He released you to breathe, eyes opening wide as if he only just realized what he had done. Before he could pull away, you pressed your forehead to his again, urging him to stay close. Your breaths mingled between you and you were sure you could feel his heart beating through his chest.

“I love you, too,” he said once he had caught his breath.