#language was made for word puzzles and tripping people up and the fact that i have to verbalise it on a time limit

[dullahandyke]

sidenote speaking of polls that infuriated me, that poll like 'does a story require themes to be good' was sent from hell to kill me

[tommyspeakycap]

hi could you do an imagine/ one shot where it’s a snow day and ur w his family and it’s just all cute w whoever u want :)

snow days and haribo rings

jack grealish x reader

Jack was thankful for having a big car when he woke up this morning. It became apparent most people would have their close to Christmas family get together deterred or even completely cancelled by the amount of snow that had fallen over the course of the evening and continued when you woke in the morning.

The best part was seeing you light up like a child, eyes wide and bright as you all but jumped up and down. Jack had laughed, his smile stretched wide as you stood out the back catching snowflakes on your hands and throwing toys for the puppy who kept launching himself into the thick snow. Jack admired you from the kitchen window, conjoined dining room sliding glass door still wide open so he can hear your giggles bouncing through the house as he constructed one of the only meals he could. His toast and cheese was immaculate though, bloody amazing.

“The little ‘uns are dying to see you.” Jack announces in the car as he pulls down his parents street. His little cousins do just adore you and he can’t blame them one bit. Seeing you play with them, giggling when they pile on top of you for hugs and kisses always awakens something in him he hadn’t noticed before. It made him very broody, especially at this time of year. “Really?” you beam, eyes lighting up once again as you turn to look at him for the first time since getting into the car. He was well aware of your eyes stuck on the little snow shapes that flutter into the front window and the snowmen that line the streets. Pointing out bigger ones and getting excited when you see kids out. “Look!” You squeal, pointing your finger against the window. “Snow angels!”

“You’re my snow angel.” He retorted, flirting shamelessly with a huge cheesey beam. You let out a loud laugh as you screw up your face. “You’re awful,” you snort, shaking your head. Jack laughs with you, pulling the car into park in the drive so he can lean over and press his lips onto your cheek, warmed by the heaters of the large range rover.

Jack helps you jump out of the car so you don’t slip, because despite the fact his dad has claimed to have shovelled the drive, it was covered again in a thick layer of powdery snow. Your boyfriend wraps you up in him immediately, tucking you into his side so close you practically become one person. Touch has always been Jack’s love language. He almost always has to be touching you and it’s usually a subconscious act. An arm that’ll find its way around your waist or his hand that slips into yours. He’s very tactile and he just loves to have you there in his arms.

Karen is at the door ushering you into the warm house before either or you have the chance to raise a cold hand to knock it and before you have the chance to enjoy the heat, Jack’s little cousins - who call him uncle Jack just for easiness sake - have threw themselves at you both. Jack catches them a lot easier than you do with bellowing laughter so happy you can imagine the sound in a few years time when he gets home from training or game trips and it’s yours and his kids that get to barrel through the house and greet him like this. It makes your heart sing in a mixture of excitement and joy.

“Come on come on come on!” They chant, tugging your arm quickly through the house as you call your greetings along the way. Jack is left standing in by the coat rack with a stupid grin watching his little cousins drag you through the house until you reach the back door.

Jack can’t seem to keep his focus on the conversation with his mum as they sit at the dining room table next to the window that looks out to into the garden. He keeps looking out to you, exaggeratedly falling over when you get hit by snowballs thrown by the small kids, yelling out as they bound over to leap on top of you with hysterically laughing, wrapped up in warm winter coats, hats and scarfs. You’ve only got a jacket on though and Jack worries as he always does that you’re not warm enough.

“She needs an extra layer,” Jack mumbles, making his mother beam as she looks at him with a warm mug of hot chocolate between her hands. She’s so proud of the man that her boy has become. The kind who worried about his girlfriend being too cold even in the summer. Jack stands at the back door uneasily waiting for you to reach him. “You’re going to end up sick.” He states with a frown as he hurriedly moves to wrap a thick scarf around you neck. “That’s a myth, can’t get the cold from being cold.” You shiver, allowing him to offer you a sip of hot chocolate from his mug to warm you up and you accept it happily.

“Can get hypothermia though, Mrs Degree.” He retorts teasingly, his eyes created with a smile. “Not a medical degree, J. And that’s Miss degree thank you very much.” You snip as you trudge back off the snow with him following you, setting the mug down before he stepped out the door. Jack immediately notices the excitement on his little cousins faces when you both appear for the the snowball fight where you split into separate teams. The snowball fight where you end up pinned down on the snow by Jack, his face inches from yours as his lips just about brush yours. Even chapped and slightly cracked from the cold, Jack would kiss those lips happily forever. He can’t fight the smile that plays on his lips at the sight of your nose and cheeks tinted red from the cold.

“I could change that, you know.” He hums softly, eyes getting lost in yours. You simply gaze up at him puzzled with slightly furrowed brows. “The miss thing i mean,” he backtracks, his words something like a nervous stutter, “Cause you’re my missus, could make you a missus- mine. My missus. Like, with my name an’ all that.”

You giggle at his broken up stammering sentences, your lips stretching wide into a grin.

“Are you asking me to marry you, Jack?” You lull, a teasing tone hiding clearly behind your words as he shakes his head, moderately embarrassed by his poor attempt. Jack clears his throat, rolling off you to lay beside you on the thick snow cushioning your back before he squished you. “Suppose so,” he whips his head to face you, “Depends on what your answer would be?” he adds quickly with a smile yet worried eyes.

“Charming.” You jest sarcastically, shooting him an playfully incredulous look. “But i’d say yeah.” You add, staring up at the darkening sky with snow flakes still falling into your faces, getting stuck in Jack’s beard and landing in his hair.

“Mhm, that’s good.” He smiles softly, “Mrs Grealish. (y/n) Grealish.” Jack turns back to you, a soft smile on his lips and love shining in his eyes. “Sounds pretty good to me.”

You giggle in agreement, letting him tug you in closer to him to kiss a snowflake off the tip of your nose before pressing his lips onto yours next. “Yeah, it does.” You agree with one of those wistfully love struck grins as you look at the man you love with all your heart. “I’ll get you a ring, i promise.” He says sweetly, brushing his warm hands over your cold knuckles after he tugs you up to your feet out of the snow.

“I have a ring, Uncle Jack!” You hear from behind you, the two little kids standing there with a mini party bsd or haribos each. They beam up at you, the eldest holding out the red and yellow candy ring that Jack takes with a thank you and a tenacity as if it were a real, very expensive ring that you wouldn’t eat within the next ten minutes. Yet, the brown haired brummie still takes a knee in the snow, holding your hand and looking up at you. “I promise i’ll get you a proper ring, nice one too. All the best for you. Get you a nice big ring a s a nice big family an’ i’ll spoil you, spoil you all. I’ll spoil you forever. Promise. Will you marry me?”

Tears appear in your eyes involuntarily, a giggle breaking past your lips as you nod your head virtually. “Yeah, yeah of course i’ll marry you. Now up her and kiss me before you get a chill.”

Jack stands up eagerly, pressing his lips against yours as he pushes that ring onto your ring finger for you to hold out in front of you to admire. As Jack kisses you once again before he starts leading you inside holding onto your hand, you can only think about how happy you are with him. You’d be happy to marry him in a tracksuit or pyjamas, you didn’t care. You just wanted to spend the rest of your life with him and he felt the same way. Fancy rings wasn’t a big deal for you, but you knew he’d get you one anyway because he’s Jack. He has the money and he would be dammed if he didn’t spoil his girl.

“You didn’t,” Karen gawps, shaking her head with a teasing roll of her eyes. “You better get that girl a real one.” She tells Jack as he sits there on the couch later with you tucked under his arm, “you make sure he does.” She says to you before she went off to the kitchen. You turn to Jack, the fingers of your right hand laced into his as you raise the left one still with that ring on it.

“Sweet tooth?” You chime with a smile, Jack chuckles. “Always.” He responds easily. You lift your hand up to his mouth and just barely feel his teeth against your finger as he takes a bite off of that ring. You pop the rest of it in your mouth with a giggle.

“We are my ring.” You say through giggles, feeling his press his lips against the side of your head. “I’m sorry baby.” Jack responds, pulling you even closer to him under the warm fluffy blanket as you curl into his chest.

“Don’t be,” you mutter softly, “i’m happy to marry you with nothing but candy rings we’ll eat before the days out.”

“Good,” Jack says firmly, tightening his arms around you, “Because i’ll get you all the haribo rings you like, forever and always baby.”

The ghost of a smile dances over your lips as fatigue catches up with you, echoing his words adoringly. “Yeah….forever and always.”

[gojology]

Intense Healing Session.

the request :

pairing : caring! healer! fem! reader x gojo satoru hehhehe warnings : cursing, implications of seggs after sum intense kissing, pet names wordcount : 2.0k a/n : yoyo i’m back!! semi-long one for u all. cute request, anon. sorry for late delivery. pls dont rate me a 1/5 on yelp </3 hehe the title is kinda funny LOL

     You’re beginning to hate Satoru.        Surprisingly, it’s not for the reasons people dislike him- he’s a bit of a blabbermouth, never quite learned how to seal his lips just because of how important he was to the jujutsu world. Unsurprisingly, he gets away with everything because he’s attractive and crucial to defeating curses, and there’s no shame in admitting it.       People hate Satoru for his destructive personality, he’s carefree and doesn’t let anything get to him. This may be a good trait for the untrained eye, but look carefully and you’ll see just how hectic he gets. It’s manageable since you don’t have to deal with him at the level of the Jujutsu elders.       You don’t particularly hate him for this, though.       It’s the fact he puts you through so much work, for almost no reason. You’re a healer- something very important to the quaint school that you worked at. Healing abilities are often overlooked, it’s often said that if a jujutsu sorcerer can’t provide offense, then they’re not much of a jujutsu sorcerer. Unfortunately, you have little to no talent in the battlefield, so essentially you’re a meat shield to everyone.      It was a growing occurrence to see him after every business trip, slightly roughed up but not enough to kill him. He comes into the room you share alongside Shoko, almost always when she’s not there, takes his shirt off, and displays a wide variety of cuts and bruises on his back like he’s a museum. You’d scold him, asking him how he’d get such abrasions with his infinity up constantly- but Satoru would hum, unanswering while you’re working your hands on his back.      Maybe you’re overreacting- but something tells you he does this on purpose, perhaps to fuck with you, and you’re bitter about it.     So it wasn’t surprising to see him whistle a sweet tune, hands shoved deep into his uniform pockets, casually strolling into the medical attention room for the fifth time this month.    “Gojo Satoru.” you say his full name aloud, just so he knows how much you hate his presence. Turning to look at you, his face displays innocent shock, but you just know that he’s probably rolling around in the inside seeing how riled up you got just by him stepping into the room.     Drained, lifeless eyes stare back at his childish bright ones.     Gojo places a hand on his chest defensively, “Well, I’ll be, Y/N. When did you want to disrespect your senior?” he snickers before shutting the door behind him. “You mad?”      “Unbearably. Lucky I care for you.” you utter back, venom dripping in your words, you feel like you’re making a fool of yourself as you shove your lunch aside that you had been enjoying on the tiny table next to you, sighing and rubbing your temples, tugging and effectively straightening your coat. “Get on the bed, let me work my magic.”     Looking at you with a shit-eating grin, he whistles, placing his elbows against the mattress, his roughened hands caressing his cheeks. “Working your magic? I’m interested. Tell me more, Y/N. Does this involve... Getting naked, perhaps?”     Staggering, you give him a dirty glare, “Satoru! I’ve been working my ass off like every week to get you all healed up, and you dare be perverted in my-”     “No cursing, lil girl! You wouldn’t want this rubbing off on Yuuji-kun and everyone else, would you? You’d be charged with a felony!” leaving you stunned for a second time- the first time being when his lanky figure strode into the room like it was his room- you don’t even know how to respond. How could one possibly be so... Ungrateful for your work?  Well, then again the elders existed... That was besides the point, though. You’re not even sure if Yuuji knows what the word fuck or shit is.     He drags his finger lazily along the cot, drawing various shapes into existence, giving you a skeptical look. “Not gonna answer? Stumped?”     He broke through your train of thought, and you shake your head. “Satoru, I don’t know any sort of fighting jujutsu, but I will fucking pulverize you and make sure you’ll be dust by the time I’m done with y-”     Butting in, he raises his hand as a way to shut you up. “Honeybun, you’re an amazing jujutsu sorcerer, but I hope you realize why they call me the strongest of all time. If you haven’t noticed, it’s because I have a constant shield. The closest you can get to doing that is maybe poking me.”     Giving him a snooty face, you’re frankly about to push him out of the room with sheer willpower and hatred alone. It seems he realizes this, a moment of adoration flickering across his eyes before finally neutralizing. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop playing with you. You’re so cute when I do though, like a little... Rabid raccoon! How can I not resist?”     It’s difficult to tell if that’s a compliment or an insult, with Satoru, it could be several things. But, you’re still slightly flattered, knowing him he’d go out of his way to lengthen his insult if it was one- just another reason why you hated him. Being called a rabid raccoon was definitely not on Satoru’s top 10 utterly offensive insults.       “Shut up, Satoru. Here, take off your shirt, what did you get yourself into this time?”       He obliges with a nasty grin on his handsome features, hastily yanking off his uniform. Underneath was a very meticulously trained body, toned muscles and all. You can’t help but to also catch a glimpse of his collarbones, which were so defined it looked like it could cut your butter for your morning pancakes. You gulp, blinking, you had forgotten just how well-shaped he was in the one week you hadn’t seen him.       “No need to stare, sweetums.” he chirps, realizing your darkening cheeks. “Feed my ego any more and I’ll probably burst and my organs will decorate your walls. You can donate my body to the local college, they’ll be surprised by how top-notch they are.”       Giving him another stern, but much more sheepish gaze, he snaps his mouth shut, but a triumphant smile replaced his grin in place.      “Please, no gruesome detailing. I’d much rather my cute kitten posters.” you motion to a white cat slumbering peacefully in a basket.      “Looks just like you.” he says.      You close your eyes and pretend he’s not there, choosing to ignore yet another one of his compliments, but your heart thumps faster in your heaving chest. Heaven knows how curious your hands could get if you could see where you were touching-      “Those are my abs, Y/N. I think we’re focusing on my back.” he muses aloud in an almost teasing tone. You can already imagine how obnoxious his face is, opening your eyes hesitantly, blinking to adjust to the bright room lights. Your hands are still hovering above his abs, his gaze is upon yours, looking at you with a mix of speculation and speechlessness. Instead of his unusual smug smirk, there’s an almost coy expression on his features, which shocked you.        “How’d your hands get there? Last time I checked, abs are at the front, not the back, hmmm?”        You grit your teeth, your face flush with warmth at your sudden realization. There was no cheeky retort you could’ve possibly come up with, after all, he was right, how did your hands wander to his abs? You weren’t thinking of doing it. You weren’t interested in him either, but he was attractive. Of course you’d be too curious for your own good.. Yes, that was it..       “Your hands are still on an inappropriate place, Y/N. Except, a lil lower than last time.” he chuckles wholesomely as you jerk up, straightening yourself and clearly sweating, your arm wiping your brow and exhaling a drawn-out and awfully dramatic sigh.       “Give me a break, Satoru. I just, um, you know... Zone out.” your pitch was unconvincing, high-pitched and wavering, bringing your chances of believability to a low.      “So, this is like, the 375th time since you’ve zoned out, lil girl.” he tsks, “You’ve gotta sound convincing if you wanna fuckin lie, you know.”      “I--” you falter, now clearly a shade darker than you were just 5 minutes ago. Your heart beating so rapidly it was almost like you were running a marathon. Why was your pulse so quick? Why was everything in the room a blur besides him? Why couldn’t you focus on healing him? What was he doing to you?      “You haven’t even begun the healing process.” he murmurs, his large hands caressing your arm that was by your side. “Anything you want to tell me, pumpkin? I’m on a tight ass schedule, but I’ll let Ijichi solve that. Spit it out.”       His voice rang out high and clear amongst the hectic fight that was going inside your head, steadying your thoughts. A few moments pass by, studying him, lips moving but no words coming out. Why was it so difficult to say through the insults, you cared for him, and wanted him to be more careful? Was it because of the monster inside of you, who wanted him to get hurt, to spend his time with you, listen to his horrible compliments and giggle at the jokes he made as you worked at a snail’s pace on his back, that weren’t even funny, but was funny because of his presence in the dead room, his boyish laugh very much needed in such days of flatness?      “Satoru..” you finally muster out, his eyes flickering on you once more as he was studying the kitten poster with much boredom. “I just.. Care for you.”      “Huh.” is all he says, face falling and examining the spotless floor. “Is that all?”      Acknowledging his body language, you huff, suddenly filled with the need to defend yourself. “What else did you want me to say? I just feel like you’ve gotten yourself hurt a lot more recently and... I just, want you to be more careful. That’s all.”     “No.” he was barely audible, so you had to lean down to hear him. “No, that’s not it at all. You’re hiding something. Do you prefer me to say it?”     Puzzled, you peer at him with childlike curiosity gleaming in your eyes. What did he know about you that you didn’t? Surely, you knew all about yourself?    “You’re not that fucking dumb, are you?”     “Huh?-” you begin to speak, clearly offended, but you’re stopped.     By none other than his lips.      They’re soft, pillow-like even. A familiar warmth floods inside of you at the sudden physical contact from Satoru, except it’s amplified by 10 times. A moan slips out of your mouth, his hand against your back so suddenly you could’ve sworn it wasn’t there just a millisecond ago. His lips were mashing against yours, as if he wanted to have done this a long time ago. You hungrily push back, teasing your mouth with his tongue that slipped just barely into your mouth before indulging in you, which you thought wouldn’t had ever happened prior to this.      You grip the back of his head firmly, as if he were to escape, other hand tangled in his snow white tufts of hair. Eyelashes fluttering, heavy breathes fanning out both of your noses, your lips were sure to be swollen after this. Your tongues dueling each other, working your mouth against his. His unoccupied hands start to play with the hem of your shirt, and another moan slips out of your mouth, anxious to have progressed so far to the removal of clothing, but at this point, you’re ready for anything.    ‧₊˚✩彡.       “I don’t think Gojo-Senpai and Y/N-Senpai are just in an intense healing session.” breathed Yuuji with a terrified look in his eyes, clutching his arm that was bloodied up, his head leaned close to the firmly shut door.        Nobara looked like she was about to faint, looking at the door as if it was a several feet tall monstrosity of a curse.        “What? What are they doing in there?” Megumi knelt down to where Yuuji was, pushing his ear against the door, and immediately his eyes shot open, a traumatized look in his fearful eyes.        “What the fuck.” 

[fayemarvels]

Backseat rider

Peter Parker x fem!reader (She/her)

Inspo: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wU9lOKWFG54

I tried to write this in the second person so please tell me how you like it.

Summary: Inspired by the wonderful song Backseat Rider by Sara Kays, with my little twist on it, and with a happy ending.

You and Peter have been friends for a long time, and he promised you the first ride in his car. When you come back from your Europe trip, MJ is sitting in the passenger side. The fact that you are in love with him doesn't really help.

Or: Peter promised you a ride in his car and his stupid plan fails because he is jealous.

Warnings: angst, fluff, bad writing, grammatical mistakes,

Word count: 5.1k

English isn't my first language so please don't mind the grammar and sentence structure mistakes and stuff. If you have any suggestions on how to improve my writing, please let me know.

! Please don't repost my work anywhere without my permission. Thank you!

My masterlist *******

----

9. September 2013

It was the first day of school and you were standing at a bus stop just a few blocks from your new apartment. You and your parents just moved to queens and you were starting in a new school.

With your new schoolbag which you got for your 12th birthday just 3 days ago slung over your shoulders, you tapped your foot nervously against the concrete under your newly polished shoes.

You were so excited to start 6th grade in a new school, away from the people in your old one. You were always a shy kid and some of the kids from your previous school picked on you just because of that.

The school became hell and you started making excuses as to why not to go in. At first, your parents were annoyed thinking you were just lazy. But you later opened up about your struggles and they started to take action.

But before much happened, one of your parents got a job opportunity in Queens, New York, and without much thinking, took it. When you left the school, you felt like you could finally breathe. A huge boulder fell off your shoulders and you were so excited to find some new friends and meet new people. To get a new start.

Due to the traffic, the bus came with a 7 minutes delay. And as the bus rounded the corner to arrive at the bus stop, a frazzled-looking boy came crashing into you.

Before you could crash to the ground, he caught your hand and pulled you towards him in an effort to save you from crashing into the hard ground.

“I am so so sorry, I didn’t mean to I fell asleep and burned my toast and spilled toothpaste on my shirt, and ” he took a deep breath before he continued with his rambling.

“Oh god I am so sorry, I’m rambling” He scratched the back of his neck.

“It’s alright, truly. But I would really appreciate it if you let me go.” You said quietly and the boy’s eyes widened in horror.

“Sorry, sorry” he kept apologizing and mumbling underneath his breath.

“Please stop apologizing, nothing much happened,” You laughed lightly and he breathed out in relief.

“I’m Peter, by the way, Peter Parker,” he introduced himself more calmly. Now, that he wasn’t rambling and frantically running his hands through his hair, you could finally focus on his features. He was slightly shorter than you, with curly brown hair and chocolate brown eyes that were still tinted with sleep.

“Nice to meet you Peter my name is (Y/N) (L/N).” You introduced yourself and you stepped together into the bus. You looked around for two places to sit, preferably together.

“There,” Peter pointed to the back of the bus. You pushed through the crowd of people standing and made it to the seats. Peter let you sit beside the window and sat beside you.

“The public transport in new york is so horrible,” Peter whined and you raised your eyebrow.

“Is it? I just moved in like 2 weeks ago so I didn’t have much time to explore.”

“Oh, so this is your first day of a new school.” His eyes widened in realization and you nodded.

“What school are you going into?” He asked and you could see the excitement in his eyes.

“Palm tree elementary school.” You answered and Peter jumped in his seat.

“Oh my, me too, that’s so exciting, Ned will be so happy,” he squealed you smiled widely.

You talked the rest of the ride to your stop, and through the short walk to your school. This boy might just make this school much more exciting than you thought.

20. August 2019

“Okay, just wait for me outside of your apartment building I’ll come and pick you up,” Peter said into the phone and you hummed in acknowledgment.

“Okay Petey, I’ll be waiting, I missed you so much throughout the summer, I’m sorry I didn’t call” you apologized feeling guilty.

“It’s okay, I get it, I was the one to suggest it. Okay, I’m leaving, I’ll be at yours in about 10 minutes. ”

You and your family went to Europe for the majority of summer. You tried to keep in contact but of course, it was hard the time difference made it very difficult to find a time where you both can call and don’t lose sleep.

The first person to stop trying was Peter. On a rare call one night, he informed you that he didn’t want you to lose sleep just because you wanted to talk to him

“Don’t worry, you’ll tell me everything when you get back, just don’t forget to bring me souvenirs.” Peter teased and you laughed sadly. You missed him so much and the heavy feeling in your heart wouldn’t go away.

“Okay, just prepare yourself because I’ve gotten you a souvenir from every single location we went to.” You sniffled.

“Hey, don’t cry, everything will be alright nothing will change I promise.”

10 minutes later, Peter pulled up to your parking lot and your heart skipped a beat. Your smile widened and the butterflies in your stomach fluttered. This was the first time you saw Peter after a month and a half. You returned from Europe only 4 days ago so you used that time to get rid of the jet lag.

Your smile dropped when you saw a shadow sitting on the passenger side. You shook your head and moved closer to the car. Peter stepped out of the car and you flung your arms around him. He tensed for a bit before he wrapped you up in his arms and breathed in your scent.

“I missed you so much, you have no idea,” he mumbled into your neck and you pressed your lips into his hair.

“I missed you too, for the last two weeks, my parents were a pain in the ass,” you complained and Peter laughed. Then he got serious.

“Well, at least you have parents.”

“...”

“I’m just kidding, don’t worry bug,” he giggled and you hit his shoulder lightly.

“I hate these jokes,” you complained.

“I know, that’s why I make them.” He giggled and you rolled your eyes.

“Okay. C’mon, I have my classmate MJ here, I wanted to introduce you two he stepped away and you wrapped yourself around yourself.”

Peter opened the back door for you and you thanked him. When you got into the car he closed the door behind you and quickly got into the driver seat.

“So MJ, this is (Y/N). Bug, this is MJ.” He introduced you two and you waved awkwardly.

“Hi, I heard about you so much, is so nice to meet you.” MJ greeted and you smiled.

“I would like to say the same but Peter has never talked of you,” you scratched your neck shyly and MJ waved her hand.

“It’s fine, me and Peter only started hanging out about 3 weeks ago, but we’ve gotten a lot closer.” She explained and you nodded.

“So, Peter told me you are in an art school,” Mj started and you shuffled to the edge of your seat so you could hear better.

“Yeah, I do interior design, color pallets, and furniture designs.” You explained and MJ nodded her head.

“That sounds really cool, you’ll be the first I’ll contact when I’m furnishing my house” MJ laughed and you giggled.

“Yeah sure, just give me a call,”

But then, it got quiet. You just relaxed against the seat behind you and closed your eyes for a few moments.

“So, I saw the star wars movies the other day, it was so good,” MJ exclaimed and Peter laughed out loud.

“I tried to get this lady into it but she hated it. The same with star trek.” Peter said, pointing at you.

“Yeah, I hate it so much,” you chimed in but they didn’t respond. They just continued laughing and talking without you. You couldn’t help but think that they looked so much like the two of you looked when you talked about both of your favorite things.

----

MJ sat in the passenger seat for the next five weeks. When you traveled to school, from school, or even during the weekends.

She was there every single time Peter came to pick you up. And to be honest, it hurt just a bit more every single time you saw her sitting in the front seat of his car.

-----

You and Peter were supposed to go to see the new astronomical exhibition today. You were getting ready in your room when your eyes drifted over a framed picture on your vanity table. It was taken last summer, before he got his car, before MJ. You had taken it with your Kodak disposable camera in a parking lot in front of your local Target. You remember it like it was yesterday.

21. July 2018

It was around 10 p.m. when you and Peter left the target with a plastic bag of candy and a brand new disposable camera that you found in the sale aisle. You tore the safety tape away from the box and pulled out the instruction manual.

“I’m so excited; I’ve never had any of these.” You exclaimed and Peter chuckled at your happy face, threw his arm around your shoulder, and pulled you in closer to him.

“You are going to love it, it’s so fun. Especially because you have no idea how the photos are gonna turn out.” He smiled and you nodded.

“I always watch the tiktoks of people’s reactions to the developed photos, and they always look so happy, I want to try it.” you declared and pulled the camera out of the box.

“First things first bug, just a quick info, you need a lot of lightning for the photos to turn out good,” Peter explained and you waved your hand mindlessly, messing around with your temporary camera.

You quickly pulled out your phone and turned on the flashlight. You put the phone on the ground in front of him and he looked at you puzzled.

“Will you do me a favor and be the first photo on this camera’s film?” You asked him and Peter nodded, acting very posh and snobby.

“It would be an honor, my lady,” he faked a bow and you burst out laughing.

“Okay smile for me,” you giggled and Peter smiled widely. He was so beautiful. Hair messy, and a hoodie a little too big on his body, with the long sleeves making cute sweater paws.

“Come onnn take the picture so we can eat the sweets,” Peter whined and you quickly snapped the picture of him. He bent down, took your phone from the ground, and turned off the flashlight.

“Come on I even got us and your fuzzy socks so your toes won’t get cold,” he said and you hugged him from behind.

“you are the best, you know that?” you mumbled and he shrugged.

“Might’ve mentioned it a few times before” You let him go and he pulled out the blanket from his backpack.

“Come on let’s sit here,” he pulled you towards the curb a few feet away from the spot you were standing at. He sat down, wrapped his arms around your legs, and rested his face on your stomach.

“Let’s sit here and eat all these delicious candies” he looked at you with wide eyes and you dragged your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp.

“Okay Doll, let’s do this,” you teased and he blushed hard.

“Stoop you know I blush when you call me that,” he complained and you laughed softly. You gently unwrapped his arms from your legs and sat down next to him.

“So, let dig in,” you rubbed your palms together and he put the bag between you two.

“I want the Reese’s,” you said and Peter handed them to you.

----

“Smiile,” you smushed your cheek against Peter’s and he smiled into the camera. The flash had gone off and you smiled to yourself.

“I bet this one’s gonna be so good.” He said and you nodded.

“So, as I was saying, May told me that she wants to buy me a car for my 18th birthday. I don’t know how she wants to do that but I’m not complaining.” Peter gushed and you wrapped your arms around his middle.

“I’m so happy for you, you deserve it.” You smiled and Peter continued.

“I want to take you on a road trip when we finish school. All around the US. From New York to L.A,” he looked at you hopefully and you smiled at him widely.

“That sounds so good, we can go to grand canyon and Zion and so much more, Oh my God, we will need so much more of these disposable cameras. Peter, we need so much food and tents and sleeping bags and maps.” You took a deep breath before you continued.

“We should make a checklist, we should start preparing, Peter why are we sitting here?” you asked and Peter gently shushed you by putting his pointer finger on your lips.

“We still have 2 years bug, no need to overthink it, everything is gonna be fine.” He assured you and you nodded.

“Come here,” he pulled you towards him and your head landed on his chest. You snuggled into his chest and breathed in his scent.

----

You were pulled back to reality when your phone rang. It was Peter.

“Hey (Y/N), we are nearly here, only about 4 minutes.” He informed and your breath got stuck in your throat. ‘WE’. MJ is coming with you. He didn’t ask, he didn’t inform you beforehand. He just invited her.

“Ummm Pete I’m suddenly not feeling very well, I think I should go and lay down, maybe you should go alone,” you mumbled and he hummed.

“Okay, get better alright? We can go somewhere tomorrow.” He suggested and you hummed in agreement, as you couldn’t do anything else without breaking down.

“Okay (Y/N) goodnight, get well soon. I’ll see you tomorrow” He didn’t wait for your response before he hung up.

You stared at the phone as the tears cascaded down your cheeks and you put no effort into stopping them. You slowly wiped off the makeup you put on just a few moments prior and threw out the cotton pad.

You stood up from your vanity and moved over to your bed. You couldn’t understand it. What have you done wrong? Just a few months prior, Peter would drop everything to be with you when you weren’t feeling that well. Now, he didn’t even ask what was wrong.

You cursed yourself as you tried to keep your sobs at bay. You lost him and it was all your fault. If you called more often or at least texted and kept in contact during the summer, everything would be fine. He wouldn’t be in his car with someone else but with you. But the more you thought about it the more your mind betrayed you,

‘Wait, he was the one to suggest that you two would stop the contact, did he get tired of you? Did he want to get rid of you? Is he sending signals by hanging out with MJ every single time they should be hanging out alone?’ the thoughts in your brain were running around before they suddenly stopped.

“He didn’t call me bug,” you realized. He always called you bug, never (Y/N). He only called you that when he was annoyed or angry with you. You started thinking back to every single hangout you had in the past 5 weeks to see if you could stumble upon a memory where you angered or annoyed him. Nothing.

Your shoulders sagged and you put your face in your hands.

“What should I do now,” you asked yourself as you tried to remain calm and not to let any more sobs out. As you looked around your room, slowly calming down, you saw a piece of Peter’s hoodie peeking out from your closet. In a rage of fury, sadness, and anger, you quickly gathered every single piece of clothing Peter ever gave you and put them in a cardboard box.

Taking out a piece of paper, you took your favorite pen and started writing a little note for your now ‘ex’ best friend.

Dear Peter, returning your clothes, maybe you can give them to MJ, now that she is your best friend and you don’t care about me. Could’ve at least told me you didn’t want me in your life anymore, instead of sending mixed signals and hurting me by that. Fuck you. – Love, (Y/N)

You signed it with fury coursing through your veins and closed the box with duct tape. You swiped the stray tears that fell down your cheeks and threw on a hoodie.

“Going out for a few minutes!” you shouted to your parents and closed the door, before hearing their response. After putting the hood up, you opened the window to the fire escape and you threw your legs over the window sill, taking the full cardboard box with you.

“Let’s do this,” you mumbled to yourself and dropped down to the ground.

----

The walk to Peter’s apartment didn’t take long, only about 10 minutes. But the walk felt so much longer this time, maybe because this would probably be the last time you would ever make it. You started tearing up just at that thought. You didn’t think this is how it would end. Six years of friendship ended just because you were too annoying. You shook your head and continued walking; you couldn’t afford to burst into tears in the middle of the road.

You stopped in front of Peter’s apartment and let out a shaky breath. This is it. You knew May would be at work, so you let yourself in with the key, underneath their doormat. You stepped into the apartment and closed the door behind you. You rushed into Peter’s room and threw the box on his bed. You didn’t want to linger around and experience the pain of remembering all of the memories you and Peter shared in this room.

You looked around one more time, and your eyes watered when you saw your favorite t-shirt thrown over his chair. You really wanted to take it but decided to against it. ‘He can do whatever he wants’ you thought and closed the door behind you.

The walk from his apartment wasn’t much better. But it was a bit shorter than the one before. You hadn’t had much time to think this time. You just came out of his building and in a few seconds, you were laying in your bed with tears streaming down your cheeks.

Now, that you calmed down a bit and your head cleared, you laid in your bed, looking at the ceiling, face blank of any emotion. You got pulled back into reality by your phone vibrating. You sat up and moved the phone closer to your face. It was Peter.

You had 6 missed calls and 26 unread messages from the curly-haired boy. But you decided to ignore them and turned on the airplane mode. You curled up into a ball and snuggled up into your fluffy blanket. It was going to get better, you will get better, the pain will subdue, the anger will not.

You were so damn angry at him. How could he do this to you, string you along when he doesn’t want you in his life anymore? Letting a few tears slip, you let your eyelids droop and let your mind wander into the darkness of sleep.

----

“I don’t understand, what does she mean by a new best friend? What does she mean by not want her in my life anymore?” Peter asked as he paced around his room, with your note crumpled up in his right hand.

“I think you did the opposite of what you wanted to do you know?” MJ interrupted him and he looked at her horrified.

“This is all my fault, I’m the reason she feels like this,” he mumbled and continued pacing in circles.

“Remind me why you wanted to do this again?” MJ scoffed and Peter stopped to think.

“To make her jealous,” he mumbled and MJ stood up and hit him across the forehead with a rolled-up engineering magazine she found randomly thrown under his pillow.

“You are so stupid, Peter. And I can’t believe I helped you. But at least I got the cute girl’s number,” she mumbled the last part and Peter ran his shaky fingers through his hair.

“I fucked up,” he announced and MJ glared at him.

“Yeah, no shit genius. Remind me how this started again. In detail and soak in just how stupid you are,” she growled out and he got lost in the painful memory.

----

It was around 3 weeks after his best friend left for Europe, he was mindlessly scrolling through Instagram when he saw a photo she posted just 4 hours ago. He went to like it but his thumb froze before he could double-tap. It was a photo of her smiling, looking as beautiful as ever, on a beach with a sunset behind her. But it wasn’t her that made him freeze, it was the boy that was standing behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist. She was grinning at him, her smile shining brighter than all of the stars in the night sky.

“Who the fuck are you?” Peter mumbled to himself as he looked over more of the photos in the post. As he scrolled, the pair of them only grew closer on the pictures. Them sharing a meal, them in the sea, them on a carnival with a huge green teddy bear in her arms. Just from the last picture, it was clear that the boy won the plushie in one of those shitty scam carnival games Peter couldn’t play even if he really wanted to.

But what really got him, was the post from her private Instagram, the boy from the previous photos was kissing her on the corner of her mouth. Tears gathered up in his eyes as he exited the app and ran his shaky fingers through his hair.

‘Could she have a boyfriend? But she didn’t tell me,’ his breathing got quicker and he had a sudden urge to puke. Before he could stop himself, he opened his contacts app and scrolled to find MJ’s phone number, she could help him.

“Hey, I know this is a lot to ask but I need you to help me make my best friend jealous.” Those words came from his mouth before he could even think about them.

----

“I told you before you started with this stupid plan of yours that it won’t work out,” MJ snapped him out of his mind. Peter stared into the distance before he snapped out of it.

“I need to go and see her, I need to explain,” Peter rushed out before MJ stopped him.

“You need to give her some time, she wouldn’t want to see you, and only get angry or even more upset.” She explained and Peter nodded in understatement.

“You are right, I will let her cool off for a week, and then talk to her,” Peter concluded. MJ blinked in surprise.

“Are you sure you want to give her a week? I was thinking more like 2 days, not 7,” MJ said cautiously and Peter huffed out angrily.

“God, why are you so cryptic, why can’t you just tell me and help,”

“Because this is your relationship, that is on line, not mine. And you want me to solve this for you,” MJ raised her voice and Peter rolled his eyes.

“God, this is useless” he mumbled and the girl in front of him scoffed.

“I can just leave if that’s what you want,” She stood up to leave but Peter grabbed her forearm gently.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I’m just really anxious and I want to see her. But you are right, I shouldn’t leave her without explanation for such a long period of time,” Peter apologized and MJ nodded.

“I need to go, mum wants to watch this new movie she saw in Target, I’ll text you okay?”

“Okay bye, enjoy the movie,” Peter mumbled and MJ walked out of his room.

“Great Parker, just great,” he mumbled to himself as he watched her leave through his window.

----

2 days later

Peter was standing in front of your school, waiting for you to finish. The last two days have been torture for him and he couldn’t wait to talk to you. When he heard the bell ring on the inside of the building, he stood up from the bench he was sitting on and moved closer to the main entrance, just a precaution and so he wouldn’t miss you walking out.

He started to get worried when he didn’t see you walk out even after 15 minutes.

‘Maybe they had some science lab and are cleaning up or something he thought to himself to calm down a bit. Then, he saw one of your friends, Bee, walk out and he waved at them.

“Hey, she isn’t here today,” Bee said to Peter. He only frowned. That’s weird.

“Okay, thanks Bee, do you think she could be at home? Is she sick?” Peter asked and Bee frowned at him.

“I thought you were best friends, you don’t know where she is?” Bee asked him and Peter looked down looking very guilty.

“We had a fight,” he mumbled and Bee scoffed.

“Well, I guess you fucked up pretty bad because she never misses school.”

“I know, I fucked up and I hurt her, but I just want to make it better, I gave her time to cool off and now, I need to apologize,” Peter explained and Bee nodded their head.

“Okay Parker, last chance, if you hurt her to this extent ever again, I’ll kick you in the balls.” Bee threatened and Peter nodded.

“Don’t worry, this is the first and last time this has ever happened, won’t hurt her ever again, I promise,” Peter said and Bee could tell his words were genuine.

“Fine Parker go, and if she is not at school tomorrow, you are a dead man, I’m telling you that right now.”

“Don’t worry Bee, I’m going to make this right,” Peter promised as he walked away from your school.

----

“Honey, someone is here to see you,” Your mom called out and you looked from under your blanket. You couldn’t function correctly for the past few days, the loss of your best friend being too much to bear.

“Tell them to go away please,” you mumbled and she shook her head sadly. You stopped crying a while ago, no tears left in your body.

You heard a gentle knock on your door.

“Hey bug,” You whipped your head towards the voice, and the tears you thought ran out, welled up in your eyes. He was there, even after he exchanged you for someone else.

“Pete,” you whispered and he quickly walked towards you and sat on your bed. You threw yourself into his arms but then quickly pulled back and furrowed your eyebrows.

“What are you doing here?” you asked and Peter shook his head.

“I came to apologize, I hurt you by my actions and made you think something, that isn’t true at all,” he explained and you tilted your head, reminding Peter of a cute, confused puppy.

“I will just tell you the truth, and hope you will be able to forgive me.”

“I was jealous. It’s simple as that, and now that I’ve said it out loud, it sounds so stupid.” He took a deep breath and slowly tangled his fingers in yours.

“The truth is, I have feelings for you. You know what? Scratch that, I’m in love with you and have been for a long time. When I saw you with the guy in Europe, being all cute and sweet together, I just lost it.” He confessed and looked up to see your face. You had an unreadable expression on your face.

“Fuck, he even got you a huge teddy bear from the carnival scam games, I could never do that for you, and I know you love that corny stuff.” He said with a shaky voice and could feel the tears push into his eyes.

“I wanted to make you jealous, but I hurt you instead and that hurts me even more than seeing you with that boy.” He said and then kneeled on the floor beside your bed. He took your other hand into his and kissed your knuckles gently.

“I’m so sorry Bug, please forgive me,” he begged as he put his forehead against your hand. The tears that gathered in his eyes flowed freely down his perfect face and it hurt you to see him like this. You took your hand away from his and you could see the quick flash of pain on his face. You caught one tear with your finger and whispered.

“Please don’t cry, I’m going to cry too,” he quickly looked up and smiled sadly, when he saw your sunken and tired face.

“I forgive you, Peter.” You said with a crack in your voice.

“And you know, it actually worked out, I was so jealous when I saw you with her.” You confessed.

“I love you too Peter, I always have” you whispered and Peter’s face lit up with joy.

“You, do?” He asked and you nodded with a slight smile on your face.

“I do, so so much,” You caressed his cheek, shuffled closer to him, and kissed him on the forehead.

“Come here and lay with me,” you demanded and Peter chuckled.

“Well, what my lovebug wants, she gets.” Peter teased and you hid your face in the blanket.

“I kinda like it,” you whispered shyly and Peter laughed lightly.

“Scoot over love, let me lay with you.” You shuffled over and Peter slipped under your blanket. He laid down and slowly maneuvered your body, to lay comfortably on his chest.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow, we’ll work it out, I promise.” You mumbled and Peter nodded and kissed the top of your head.

“I love you, Peter”

“I love you my Bug,” It was quiet for a bit before Peter spoke once again.

“So, who was the boy in the photos?”

“PETER!”

-----

I'm sorry I kind of disappeared for two months, but I had an extreme case of writer's block, but I am back. But I still have no ideas so if you have any ideas, I would be forever thankful if you pitched them to me.

I would also like to thank you for 97 followers, it's unbelievable.

I would really appreciate it if you gave me some feedback and told me what I can change.

Thanks for reading

- Faye xxx

[the-scandalorian]

Tempered Glass: Chapter 5

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M (will become explicit) Word Count: 6.4k Warnings: canon rewrite, slow burn, canon-typical violence, sexual harassment/unwanted sexual advances, cursing, sexy thoughts, pining Summary: When you’re caught in a firefight with a bounty hunter and the Crest is damaged, you and Mando stop on Tatooine to find a job. A shadow of your past catches up with you. Notes: Sorry not sorry for making Toro even worse than he already is. Taglist: @bbdoyouloveme @beskarhearts @dincrypt @dunderr @honey-hi​ @just-me-and-my-obsessions00 @mbpokemonrulez @red-leaders @speakerforthedead0 @theflightytemptressadventure @zoemariefit

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Image from The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

After leaving Sorgan, you and Mando chose a second “backwater skughole” several systems away as your next destination. Mando set the nav, and the automated voice of the computer informed you that the trip would take almost five days. The thought of spending five days confined to the Crest was not appealing, but you knew it was important to keep your stops as remote as possible.

Time was a functionally meaningless concept in space anyways, hours and days bleeding together. Without the usual environmental cues to govern your circadian rhythm, you had to rely on a schedule to maintain some semblance of normalcy, keeping alarms on your chrono to remind you when to sleep. Mando, on the other hand, seemed so completely accustomed to this slippery sense of time that he needed no reminders; this was natural for him.

If you hadn’t already seen some of his skin, you might actually think he was a droid. Aside from his hard metal exterior, the most compelling piece of evidence to support this theory was the fact that he didn’t seem to need much sleep. He disappeared into his bunk for maybe four or five hours a day, plus twenty minutes here or there to eat. You suspected he settled into a half-asleep, half-awake hibernation mode when he sat in the pilot’s seat for hours at a time without moving. Once, he jolted so violently when the child sneezed that he had to catch him by his collar before he slid off his knee.

His relationship with the kid, though, was achingly, heartwarmingly, vulnerably human.

You lived for the glimpses of their bond—the way Mando would remove a single pauldron so he could rest the child’s head on his shoulder to lull him to sleep, whispering to him as he swayed gently. When the kid was restless and energetic from being cooped up, Mando would roll the little silver sphere from a control in the cockpit along the floor of the hull for him to chase. For a generally impatient man, his patience for the child seemed almost inexhaustible; he would hold him and pat his back endlessly while he wailed his way through particularly bad tantrums.

You collected these precious moments and held them close to your heart, unwittingly creating a catalog of comfort that you’d return to later. They weren’t necessarily your moments to claim, as a visitor in their world, but you treasured them nonetheless.

***

You were out of colored contacts. You could only wear each pair continuously for a month, and your current pair was due to be switched out any day. The morning you threw them away, Mando stopped you as you passed him in the hull with a light hand on your shoulder. The kid was tucked in his other arm.

He stepped in front of you, just inches away from your chest, tilting his helmet down to look at you. You looked up to meet his gaze, puzzled. He cocked his head, a silent question.

Not for the first time, you wondered about the color of his eyes.

You held your breath, unsure of what he was going to do.

He said nothing but brought his gloved hand up to your face, running this thumb along the crest of your cheek—so lightly, the leather was barely touching you. The tender gesture brought goose bumps to your arms, and your heart stuttered in your chest.

The kid reached up a tiny hand toward your other cheek, mirroring Mando’s movement. He babbled quietly, breaking the tense silence. You flicked your eyes down to watch him but remained still, not wanting to disrupt the spell of the moment. The baby wiggled his fingers and whined when he realized he couldn’t reach you. You smiled.

You looked back up into Mando’s visor. You wanted so badly to reach out and touch him back, to pull him closer, but you let fear keep you rooted to the spot.

To your astonishment, he dipped his helmet, as if he was going to lean his forehead against yours. He was inches from your face—you could see your surprise reflected in his visor and hear his steady breathing through the modulator. But Mando seemed to change his mind mid-gesture, and the moment was over before you knew it. He straightened, dropped his hand, nodded stiffly, and stepped past you. The child let out a frustrated cry in protest.

Without the kid’s lingering whines, you might have thought you imagined the whole thing.

Little by little, you were revealing your real self to the Mandalorian, placing your safety in his hands. This would have been harder to stomach if you weren’t getting pieces of him in return. Spending this much time in such close quarters with someone—even someone as closed off as Mando—was enough to get to know them fairly well.

For instance, you weren’t quite fluent, but you were getting really good at reading his body language. He relied on his armor to mask his intentions with strangers, and he wasn’t accustomed to people spending extended amounts of time with him—time to learn his patterns and tells. Over time, it became apparent just how many minute things there were to unpack: subtle tensions in his back and shoulders, clenching of his fists, tapping of his fingers, the lean in his hips, audible inhales or exhales, the tilt of his helmet. Plus, there were nuanced flavors of each movement: a sassy head tilt, an angry head tilt, a confused head tilt. Soon enough, you’d be able to create a dictionary of the Mandalorian’s body language. 

It was strange to think that you’d only been with him for a few weeks, and you might be the only person in the galaxy who could read him so well.

Something else you’d come to learn about Mando was that he was very particular about where his things were kept. This made sense—he’d clearly been living alone for years, if not decades. Of course someone with such a nomadic, unsettled lifestyle would want to carefully control what little in his environment that he could, but his compulsive organization was next level.

You came to this conclusion after you scooted his toothbrush and toothpaste over just slightly in the med cabinet to make a space for yours. The next morning, you opened the cabinet to find his things exactly where they had been before you’d moved them. You looked down to see that yours were sitting precariously on the edge of the sink, waiting to fall to the floor at the first sign of turbulence. Seriously?

That inspired you to devise a fun game—well, it was fun for you. You were pretty sure Mando hated it, though to his credit, he didn’t say anything about it for several days. Every day, you’d move one of his items just slightly to see if he’d notice and move it back. So far, he’d caught every tiny adjustment. He even reoriented his bar of soap when you moved it so it sat slightly off-kilter in its dish in the shower. He hadn’t even showered yet that day.

After three days, he finally cracked.

He was digging through a storage compartment, huffing dramatically though his modulator as he searched for something.

“I can’t imagine you’ve lost something,” you said, from where you were sitting on a crate sharing a ration pack with the kid, who was perched on your lap. “Not with how terrifyingly organized you are.”

“Yeah, well, that was only true before you started moving my stuff around.” 

You grinned. “I was wondering when you were going to say something.”

“I was wondering when you were going to stop,” he huffed, but you detected the lightest trace of amusement in his tone.

“I haven’t actually moved anything,” you laughed. “Just... adjusted.”

He harrumphed, still digging around in the box.

The kid chittered and reached toward your hand for more food. You gave him another piece.

“If you let me leave my toothbrush and toothpaste in the med cabinet, I’ll stop.”

He looked up. “That’s it?”

“I’m a reasonable woman.”

“Deal.”

When you went to brush your teeth that night, one of the three shelves in the med cabinet had been completely cleared for you.

As you slowly began to insinuate yourself into Mando and the kid’s life, the guilt of not telling him about the bounty on your head started to weigh heavier on your mind. He deserved to know, but you couldn’t imagine him letting you stay if he found out. Why would he assume any extra risk? I’ll tell him soon. We probably won’t be together much longer anyways.

***

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.”

The unfamiliar voice of the bounty hunter echoed over the com in the cockpit. A ship was hot on your tail, landing several shots that rattled the Crest violently. The child, who was strapped into the seat beside you, seemed to enjoy the excitement of the chase, arms raised and giggling. Mando maneuvered the Crest quickly and deftly, so the pursuer was suddenly directly in front of the viewport.

“That’s my line,” he said dramatically, as he pulled the trigger and obliterated the ship in his sights.

Despite the fact that your heart was pounding in your chest, you couldn’t help but let out an exasperated laugh at that. 

The chase had been short-lived, but the hunter had managed to inflict some serious damage. Alarms beeped and warning lights flashed along the console.

“Losing fuel,” said Mando. He was working hastily, his hands flying from one control to the next. He was trying to address several warning alarms at once.

“You work on that. I got this,” you said, unbuckling.

You stood next to him, attending to the controls in front of you.

“What are—Don’t do that,” he said, “Stop. I need to—”

He didn’t finish his sentence when he realized you were doing exactly what needed to be done to stabilize the ship.

“I thought you said you worked in programming.”

“I did. Mostly avionics.”

The second thruster sputtered and died. The cockpit went dark. All of the usual mechanical sounds that the ship made whirred to a halt. Mando turned in surprise, looking around. He clicked a few buttons. Nothing happened.

The child giggled from his seat.

“I’ll get it.” You walked to the back of the cockpit and wrenched open a panel to do a manual reset of the controls. Some of the lights came back on. Mando flicked several switches, and the displays came alive.

Together, you got the ship in good enough shape to limp to a nearby planet. Luckily, you were already close to Tatooine. The Razor Crest rattled alarmingly as it cleared the atmosphere, and Mando landed the ship with an unceremonious clunk in a bay in Mos Eisley.

Mando left the now sleeping baby in his bunk, despite your objections. That never works. He walked down the ramp to haggle with the mechanic.

Peli was a gruff woman, sassy and straightforward. You liked her right away. Mando deserved the sass Peli dished out, considering he had begun their interaction by shooting at her pit droids when they tried to approach the Crest.

He really hates droids.

You and Mando headed to the cantina to inquire about work. As soon as the ship went dead, you’d both known you’d need to pull a job to pay to fix the damage because there was no way the Crest was making it to your destination in its current state.

You trailed a few steps behind him, watching the intimidating way he stalked down the sandy street, his cape billowing behind him. He seemed less scary now that you knew he secretly had a sense of humor and an occasional flair for the dramatic. And that he once let you sleep on his shoulder. And tied your shoe for you.

When you entered the cantina, you shivered from the abrupt change in temperature. Outside the twin suns beat down; inside the dark cantina, it was cool.

Mando strode up to the bar. You followed him, taking in your surroundings.

“Hey, droid. I’m a hunter. I’m looking for some work.”

“Unfortunately, the Bounty Guild no longer operates from Tatooine,” replied the droid in a stilted voice.

“It doesn’t have to be Guild work,” you clarified.

“I am afraid that does not improve your situation, at least by my calculation,” said the droid, continuing to wipe down the surface of the bar with a rag.

“Think again, tin can,” interrupted a smug voice behind you. You and Mando turned.

A young man, his legs propped brazenly on the table in front of him, continued, “If you’re looking for work, have a seat, my friends.” He gestured to the seats across from him.

“Name’s Toro, Toro Calican. Come on, relax.” He beckoned for you to join him again.

You and Mando exchanged a look and walked over to where he was seated.

Toro swung his legs off the table and slapped a bounty puck down in front of him as you slid into the booth and Mando followed.

“Picked up this bounty punk before I left the Mid Rim,” Toro explained. The hazy image of a woman with dark hair hovered over the puck. “Fennec Shand, an Assassin. Heard she’s been on the run ever since the New Republic put all her employers in lockdown.”

Toro had thick brown hair and dark eyes, a boyish face despite the scruff of five-o’clock shadow on his jaw. He couldn’t be older than 25.

“I’ve heard the name,” said Mando.

You nodded beside him. Fennec Shand was a legend. Having been chased by enough hunters, you were familiar with the big players.

“Yeah, well, I followed this tracking fob here. Now the positional data suggests she’s headed out beyond the Dune Sea. Should be an easy job.” He shrugged.

This kid clearly has no idea what he’s doing.

“Well, good luck with that,” said Mando, standing up. You stayed where you were, relaxed against the back of the booth.

“Wait, wait, wait, hey. I thought you needed work?” Toro looked from Mando to you, confused.

“How long you been with the Guild?” asked Mando.

“Long enough,” Toro spat unconvincingly.

“Clearly not. Fennec Shand is an elite mercenary. She made her name killing for all the top crime syndicates, including the Hutts. If you go after her, you won’t make it past sunrise.”

Mando looked at you and jerked his head to signal that it was time to go. He started to walk away. You stayed seated, saying nothing.

Toro looked at you, pleading. You nodded toward Mando: “You’ll have to convince him.”

Toro scrambled after him. Mando turned to face him, and Toro had to look up to meet his visor.

“This is my first job,” he admitted in a strained voice. “You guys can keep the money, all of it. I just need this job to get into the Guild. I can’t do it alone.”

Mando looked to you. You smiled knowingly, and he let out a sigh and nodded.

The man cannot say no to someone who needs help.

Toro was visibly relieved.

“Meet us at hangar three-five in half an hour. Bring three speeder bikes and give me the tracking fob,” instructed Mando, holding out a hand.

Toro’s shoulders pulled together. Someone doesn’t want to let go of the fob.

Without any warning, he smashed the fob on the wall. It sparked.

Mando gave Toro his angry head tilt.

“Don’t worry, got it all memorized,” assured Toro, tapping a finger on his temple.

“Half an hour,” growled Mando.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me now, guys,” Toro said triumphantly, turning to look at you.

Mando pushed past Toro and walked back to the booth, leaning down toward you. “I am not that predictable,” he muttered in a low, irritated voice.

“You really are,” you smiled up at him. “I’ll meet you at the hangar in 20. I want real food.”

He nodded and left.

Toro looked very pleased with himself, grinning at you.

“You better go track down those bikes,” you reminded him, gesturing for a droid to come take your order.

Toro ignored your advice. Instead, he looked you up and down in a way that made your skin crawl and slid back into the booth across from you.

“You know what? I have an even better idea. Me and you can take Fennec ourselves. You look like a girl who can handle herself. Let’s ditch that rusty bucket right now and do this together. Fewer people to split the reward.” His eyes sparkled.

Is he fucking serious?

You already weren’t a huge fan of Toro and his cocky attitude, but the minute he called you “girl” like that, your regard for him plummeted. What little patience you had for this kid was wearing thin.

“Not interested.”

The droid came over, and you placed your order.

Toro, still looking at you expectantly, scooted around the table to sit next to you, and you moved in the opposite direction to maintain the distance between you.

“Mando is old, you know? I don’t know if you can tell, but I can. That’s an old man under that shiny armor. You look like you need someone younger to keep up with you.” He winked conspiratorially, as if the two of you were sharing a mutual joke.

You watched him through narrowed eyes, a sour feeling settling in your stomach.

He was clearly terrible at reading people because he responded to your disgusted look by reaching over to run a heavy hand along the inside of your thigh. He barely made it an inch past your knee when you ripped his hand off your leg, tightening your fingers around his wrist until your nails dug into his skin.

“Touch me again and lose a hand,” you spat at him, releasing him and pushing up from the table. You wrapped your fingers around the hilt of the blade at your hip.

“Whoa, whoa! I was just being friendly, sweetheart,” he said loudly, holding his hands up in mock surrender. He looked around at the other patrons as if seeking outside confirmation that you were the one who was being unreasonable in this situation.

“You should leave.”

“I was obviously kidding about ditching Mando,” said Toro, shaking his head. “You really need to lighten up.” He didn’t even have the decency to look abashed.

You spared him a biting response, fixing him with a glare instead.

“I’ll go find those bikes.” He stood to leave, purposefully brushing past your shoulder as he went.

***

After finishing your meal, you stalked out of the cantina and back to the terminal to find Mando.

He was sitting at the top of the ramp of the Crest fiddling with an open control panel in the wall. He looked up to nod at you when he heard you approach.

“I don’t like that kid, Mando. I don’t trust him. I don’t think we should do this.” You stopped in front of him and put your hands on your hips.

“I know. He’s inexperienced, but he’s harmless.”

“No, that’s what I’m saying—he’s not harmless.”

“What did he say to you?” Mando continued working on the open control panel, only vaguely listening to you.

“He tried to talk me into ditching you and teaming up with him, so we didn’t have to split the reward three ways... He also hit on me.” You added the last part as an afterthought and grimaced at the memory of his gross hand on your thigh.

His head snapped up to look at you. “He—what?”

You looked at him, waiting for him to verbalize a more coherent question. You weren’t sure which part of what you’d shared horrified him the most.

“I—what—uh, yeah, I know... I don’t trust him either,” he continued, “but there are two of us and only one of him. We need the credits—and we’ll get the full reward, like he agreed, whether he likes it or not. We’re not going to find many other jobs here, and I don’t think he’s smart enough to pull anything.”

“I guess,” you shrugged. Toro doesn’t seem capable of critical thinking, let alone concocting and carrying out an elaborate scheme. The bounty was too high and other jobs too scarce to resist.

“We’ll keep a close eye on him. Let’s just finish this job quickly, and then you, me, and the kid can move on.”

“Okay,” you agreed, reluctantly. The way he emphasized the fact that you and him and the kid were a team was an obvious attempt to quell your worries. And it did. Mostly. It was a little startling how well he knew you already.

“Where’s the baby?” you asked, suddenly realizing the door to his bunk was open, and it was empty.

“He left the ship, and Peli found him. She agreed to take care of him while we do this job.”

Again, here he is, trusting a complete stranger.

“I told you he never stays put,” you scowled.

“Don’t worry, Peli already gave me an earful about how much I don’t know about kids.” He sounded defeated, so you decided not to pile on.

“You’re doing a good job, you know. The kid really loves you.”

He seemed surprised by your sincerity, his shoulders pulling back slightly. “I’m not, but thanks.”

It hurt your heart a little to hear him say that. 

***

When you left the terminal fifteen minutes later, Toro was outside, leaning against one of two speeder bikes with a cocky smile on his face.

Peli, who was holding the kid and arguing with Mando about payment, stood in the doorway to see you off. You caught the curious look that Toro gave the baby in Peli’s arms.

“Hey, what do you think? Not too shabby, huh? I could only track down two. You guys will have to share,” Toro said.

You and Mando looked at each other. Mando started to inspect the bike closest to you. Before he could beat you to it, you threw a leg over the speeder bike and sat down at the front of the seat.

“What are you doing?” Mando asked you.

“Driving,” you said, shrugging and reaching into your bag. You pulled on a pair of googles and wrapped a scarf around your nose and mouth. You secured your bag on the back of the bike.

When you noticed that Mando had made no move to join you, you looked at him and tipped your head back toward the seat behind you. “Let’s go.”

You could tell by the resigned drop in his shoulders that he knew it would be more work to try to convince you to scoot back than was worth it. He climbed on the speeder behind you, crowding you forward and reaching his long arms around you to grab the controls.

“Nope. Nice try,” you said, slapping his gloved hands away and grasping the controls yourself.

He sighed and wrapped his arms around your middle. You hoped he didn’t notice the goose bumps that appeared on your neck when he touched you. It was way too warm out under the two blazing suns to explain them away.

You jerked your wrists down and leaned forward to take off across the open sand, not waiting for Toro to mount his speeder.

“What the hell??” he yelled after you.

He caught up after a few moments.

After awhile, you let yourself relax back against Mando’s chest, and you smiled to yourself when he tightened his arms around you. 

The suns slipped lower in the sky as you coasted over the shifting surface of the Dune Sea.

***

You and Toro slowed your bikes to a halt when Mando released your waist to hold up a fist.

“What’s going on?” asked Toro.

“Look. Up ahead,” The rasp of Mando’s modulator in your ear and the concurrent rumble in his chest made you shiver, so you hastily hopped off the bike.

Mando stayed seated while you and Toro each pulled out a set of binocs to scan the landscape. Neither of you had the heightened vision that Mando’s helmet afforded him.

Through your binocs, you spotted two Tusken raiders standing beside two very hairy Banthas a short distance ahead. You lowered your binocs and scanned the immediate area.

“Tusken raiders. I heard the locals talking about this filth,” spat Toro, who was still watching them through his binocs.

You stepped back toward the bike as two Tuskens crested the hill you were on. Mando reached out a hand to grab your wrist, squeezing gently. You looked at him, and he nodded reassuringly.

“Tuskens think they’re the locals,” Mando said coolly, turning back to Toro. “Everyone else is just trespassing.”

“Well, whatever they call themselves, they best keep their distance,” Toro remarked.

“Yeah? Why don’t you tell them yourself?” asked Mando.

You grinned. There’s that flair for the dramatic.

Toro turned, and the two Tuskens screeched at him. You laughed at the way Toro positively jumped. Mando stood, raising a calming hand toward Toro, and told him to relax. You followed him as he approached the Tuskens and started gesturing to them, clearly proficient in their sign-based language.

Mando’s hands moved smoothly though deft, controlled movements. You looked down and bit your lip, trying to focus on twisting the toe of your boot back and forth in the sand to prevent your mind from wandering somewhere less appropriate.

“What are you doing?” Toro asked Mando.

“Negotiating.”

The Tuskens signed back to Mando.

“What’s going on?” asked Toro.

“We need passage across their land.”

“What did you think he meant by “negotiating”?” you said, raising your eyebrows at Toro.

“Let me see your binocs,” said Mando, holding out a hand to Toro.

“Why?”

Mando said nothing but kept his hand out, waiting. The two suns, now low in the sky, reflected brightly off his helmet. Toro handed them over begrudgingly, and Mando tossed them to the Tuskens. The Tuskens looked satisfied with their payment.

“He—hey! What? Those were brand new!” stuttered Toro in surprise.

“Yeah? They were.” Mando stalked away and remounted the speeder bike. You followed him.

And there’s that sense of humor. It’s sassy.

“You couldn’t have taken hers instead?” Toro asked, nodding at you.

“Nope,” said Mando.

You smiled sweetly at Toro as Mando scooted back in the seat and let you climb on in front of him.

***

The next time you stopped more abruptly. Mando raised his fist and barked, “Get down!”

You and Mando sprang off your bike in unison and crouched down. Toro, struggling to keep up with what was happening, fumbled with his goggles before following suit.

The three of you made your way to the edge of the dune in front of you, staying low. You set yourselves up on your stomachs at the top of the rise. Not far below, a dewback trudged forward slowly with what looked like a dead rider trailing after it, a rein wrapped around the figure’s limp ankle.

“Is that her? Is that the target?” asked Toro.

“I don’t know... I’ll go.” He looked at you to say, “You two cover me.”

You nodded.

He looked at Toro to emphasize, “Stay down.”

You and Toro pulled out your blasters. Mando ran hurriedly down the dune, his own blaster drawn. He approached the dewback slowly with a reassuring, “Whoa, whoa.”

Mando flipped over the prone body.

“So, is it her? Is she dead?” yelled Toro.

Mando turned, “It’s another bounty hunter.”

Toro turned to look at you. “He’s not planning to keep all that stuff for himself, right? I at least want that blaster.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Can you shut up for one second?”

He gave you a disbelieving look. You ignored him and focused your attention back on Mando.

Mando started to rise, turning suddenly to yell, “GET DOWN!” as blaster fire hit his pauldron, knocking him to the ground.

“Mando!” you yelled.

He scrambled back to his feet and broke into a run. He crested the hill as a second shot screamed after him. Again, it hit him in the beskar, sound reverberating off the metal. He threw himself down with a grunt, rolling towards you in a shower of sand.

“Are you okay? You didn’t get hit, right?” You reached out towards him.

“Yeah, it hit me in the beskar. And at that range, the beskar held up.” He sounded winded.

“What happened?” asked Toro, as Mando set himself back up on the crest of the hill, lying between you and Toro.

“Sniper bolt. Only an MK-modified rifle could make that shot.”

“Fennec,” you said. Mando nodded.

“Did you see where the shot came from?” he asked you.

“Yeah, from that ridge.” You pointed.

“Okay, we’re gonna wait until dark.”

“Well, what if she escapes?” asked Toro from where he was resting on his elbows on the other side of Mando.

“She’s got a good position,” you said. “She’s not moving.”

“Exactly,” agreed Mando. “She’ll wait for us to make the first move.”

Mando rolled over and stood only part of the way up, offering a hand down to you. You grasped it and got to your feet. You both hunched low to keep yourselves behind the protective swell of the dune.

“We’re gonna rest. You take the first watch. Stay low,” Mando said to Toro.

You followed Mando back to the bikes.

“Be extra careful. I don’t like you being out here with no beskar,” he said to you, more quietly.

“I will.” 

Your stomach clenched at the way Mando’s voice warmed when he was talking only to you. He spoke to Toro in a clipped tone, like he was scolding an unruly kid. He spoke to you like an equal, a partner. You couldn’t pinpoint when he’d started talking to you this way, but it had shifted recently. It was a tone you’d heard him use with the kid and with Omera. Something that felt a lot like hope sparked in your chest at this realization.

He slumped down against your speeder bike and reached up to pull you down next to him. You leaned back against the bike next to him, your body flush with his, and let your cheek fall against his shoulder.

After a few moments, you could hear a light snore rasping through his modulator. Apparently this man can fall asleep anywhere.

Eventually, you fell into a light sleep, not trusting Toro enough to sleep deeply.

***

You woke to Toro saying, “Time to ride, guys.”

“Come on, wake up!”

You opened your eyes and lifted your head. It was dark out; the last lavender traces of the sunset were disappearing along the horizon. Mando was still beside you, his chest rising and falling rhythmically.

“Look at him, asleep on the job. I told you he was an old man,” leered Toro.

You felt the cadence of Mando’s breathing shift beside you.

“You’re right. He’s ancient—basically dead already,” you quipped, patting Mando on the knee to signal that you knew he was awake.

Toro couldn’t tell if you were mocking him or joking with him, so he just looked at you, slack-jawed, trying to parse it out.

“Not quite,” Mando said, jabbing you in the ribs lightly with his elbow. Toro started at Mando’s words.

You stood, this time extending a hand down to help Mando up. It was more of a symbolic gesture than anything else—he weighed way more with that armor on than you could ever lift. Nonetheless, he took your hand as he hauled himself to his feet.

“We’re going to ride as fast as we can towards those rocks,” explained Mando, pointing to where Fennec was presumably perched.

“That’s your plan?” scoffed Toro. “She’ll snipe us right off the bikes.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t seem remember the amazing plan that you came up with?” you sniped, raising your hands in disbelief.

Mando snickered, a short rasp through the modulator, and in answer to Toro’s question, he tossed a small item his way then handed something to you.

“They’re flash charges. You two will alternate shots. It’ll blind any scope temporarily. Combine that with our speed, and we got a chance.”

You looked down at the charge in your hand, noting the button that would set it off.

“A chance?!” blurted Toro.

You bit back a scathing retort, turning back to your bike.

“Hey, you wanted this. Get ready,” replied Mando, tipping his helmet at Toro.

Mando stepped close to you, lowering his voice. “Let me sit in front this time. In case she manages to make any shots.”

You nodded in agreement, appreciating his protective nature.

You mounted the bike behind him and wrapped your arms around his middle, the charge grasped tightly in your right hand. Mando wrenched his wrists down, and your speeder bike took off, with Toro in your wake.

Mando pushed the bike as fast as it could possibly go, launching it over the swells of sand. You gripped him tighter, and the wind whipped the edges of his cape against your legs.

Apparently Fennec spotted you easily from her vantage point on the cliff because she started her assault immediately, firing at Toro’s speeder first.

Mando reached one hand down for a moment to squeeze your arm, and you understood. Holding his waist tightly with your left arm, you reached your right one up into the air to set off the charge. It went off with a screech. Even through your closed eyelids, you registered the blinding flash of light.

Fennec recovered fairly quickly. She resumed firing only moments after the light dissipated. Mando weaved the bike in a serpentine pattern to avoid the shots.

He turned to Toro and yelled, “NOW!”

Toro let off a charge. Another searing light rippled across the landscape.

After a moment, Fennec fired again, her aim becoming more precise as you drew closer to the cliff. This time, she didn’t miss. A direct shot screamed across the sand and hit the front of your speeder bike. You let go of Mando in the jolt of the impact, and you both flew over the top of the bike and landed in the sand.

Ouch.

Toro zoomed past, looking back for only a second. You didn’t like how easily he left you both behind, but logically, you knew that someone needed to get to Fennec as soon as possible.

You stayed prone on the sand, lifting just your head to see where Mando had fallen a few feet ahead of you. You were relieved when he sprang to his feet and ran back towards you. Without any warning, he lowered himself down over you to protect you from any more incoming fire. He braced himself on his elbows and knees so his body was pressed against yours, but he wasn’t crushing you with the combined weight of his body and armor.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice right behind your ear.

“Yeah.” Your face was pressed against the warm sand. “You?”

“Good. You got the charge?”

You handed it up to him. Luckily, you’d managed to hold onto it during the impact. Mando fumbled for a moment, then lifted an arm to set it off.

After the searing light faded and the dark blanket of night returned, another blaster shot landed in the sand a few feet from your head. Mando edged forward and rested his helmet on the sand above your head. You were completely shielded.

“Thanks,” you muttered up to him, slightly self-conscious that this purely protective position was affecting you so much, a slow heat coiling tight in your stomach. His whole body was flush with yours, his breath heavy and fast in your ear, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his armored chest against your back. The places where he wasn’t covered by beskar pressed warmly against you. Think about anything else.

A shot pinged off his back. Mando tensed and grunted at the impact. You gritted your teeth and focused on burying your fingers in the sand, definitely not thinking about what other things might draw similar sounds from him.

“Alright, I think Toro got to her. Let’s go, but stay behind me,” Mando rasped in your ear, squeezing your shoulder with a gloved hand.

You nodded beneath him, stifling the shiver that was threatening to run up your spine. Think about anything else.

He rolled off you, and you both got to your feet. You breathed a sigh of relief and positioned yourself at his back, both of you drawing your blasters. In the dark, you could see red streaks of blaster fire on the cliff where Fennec had been perched.

“We gotta run,” you yelled, pushing him forward. “Toro wont be able to take her alone, Mando!”

You stayed close behind him, a hand on his lower back, so he knew you were with him.

When you reached the foot of the cliff, you could hear Toro’s groans and Fennec’s grunts, but you couldn’t see them. You and Mando scrambled up the sandy incline that was littered with boulders and crested the cliff right as Fennec wrestled Toro to the ground.

“Nice distraction,” said Mando, training his blaster on Fennec. She reluctantly released Toro from her hold and put her hands up in defeat. You waited, partially concealed behind Mando until you knew she was restrained.

Toro grunted in pain as he stood up slowly.

“Cuff yourself,” Mando ordered Fennec, tossing the cuffs in front of her.

“A Mandalorian. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen one of your kind.” She stood. “Ever been to Nevarro? I hear things didn’t go so well there, but it looks like you got off easy.”

Fuck, just how much has she heard about what went down on Nevarro?

Fennec smiled even wider when you stepped out from behind Mando. There was no avoiding her now. Sure enough, recognition flickered in her eyes.

Uh oh.

“Well, well, well... if it isn’t my favorite bounty,” she drawled, and before you could react, your name—your real name—fell from her lips. “You lead me all over the damn galaxy, sweetheart.”

***

Chapter 6

[deadinside-butstill-horny]

The Night We Met

Part One - The Night We Met

Pairing: Javier Peña/ Female Murphy!Reader

Words: 5.3k

Summary: Murphy's sister travels to Colombia after realising Steve might not quite be A-Okay and meets the Javier Peña.

Content Warnings: 18+ Smut-ish (I wouldn’t wanna read it out to my mom), dry humping, dirty talk in Spanish which reader doesn’t understand so does it really count?, gratuitous love of the black shirt from the torture scene.

AO3

MASTERLIST

Author Note: So here is my return to writing! The word count got away from me but I loved every second of it. Always after prompts, so drop me a message on here if you'd like to see anything in particular. If it's in my wheelhouse, you'll definitely see it.  

Pedro in the black shirt in this scene is what inspired me to write this, I can’t lie. 

If you were brutally honest with yourself, this spur of the moment decision may have been a mistake. 

Other people could make these choices and not have that nagging feeling in their gut from the second they booked their fuckin' airline ticket. You had attempted to grab life by its metaphorical horns and go and sort this shit show out by yourself, but after your momentarial bravery was used up, all that was left was a crippling anxiety that threatened to send you into a full scale panic attack if you thought too hard about the fact you were following your big brother to Colombia.

Yes, Colombia. You, a U.S. national with no particular interest in hunting Pablo Escobar, had decided to vacation in sunny, crime ridden Bogotá on a whim. 

You were fuckin’ dumb. 

Sarcasm aside, you weren’t actually here on vacation, you were going to check on Stevie. Your brother, one of the DEA agents assigned with taking down Escobar. 

You’d been worried about him for a few months, it had sounded like he was dealing with heavy shit in South America, you knew that was the job, but he was still your brother.

His calls had gotten less and less frequent until he stopped returning them all together and the only reason you knew he was alive were your pep-talks with your sister-in-law, trying to help her keep her shit together, but hell, you weren’t a therapist or a miracle worker. So when Connie rang asking to stay at your place you had obliged and she had returned to Miami a mere shell of her former self. 

After a mammoth amount of prodding over the course of two days you managed to wring the truth out of her, not the nuggets of information she had given you over the phone in hushed whispers during her time in Colombia but the whole messy story; the communist Elisa Alvarez, Steve’s kidnapping and the cold edges your brother was developing. 

It was all you could do not to book the tickets there and then, but you held out and supported Connie in the ways Steve couldn't have, taking care of Olivia when you could and just trying your hardest to be there for her. Your presence alone seemed to be enough to help her through the days that followed.  A week and a half after her return, you booked your flight to Colombia in secret. 

You had to check on Steve. 

He hadn’t answered a single one of your many many calls. You packed light and told Connie the morning of, and whilst she didn’t like it, she understood. You supposed that a part of her was relieved to know her husband would have someone in Colombia that wasn't there to kill him. 

So here you sat, two hours into your flight to the paradise destination; Bogotá. Your brother's address scrawled on a scrap piece of paper in the one hand and a glass of cheap whiskey in the other.  The alcohol did little to to calm your nerves, this was a dangerous place for a cop, let alone a fuckin’ clueless civilian. 

When the plane finally touched down, you stood from your seat emptying the last few drops of whiskey which had tried to evade you onto your tongue, you picked up your backpack and queued to leave the plane.

The second you left the aircraft the humidity hit you like a brick wall, it was like all of the fresh air had been sucked out of the atmosphere. On a normal evening you would appreciate such a warm climate, but now the heat meant frustration to your tired brain and it only added to your baseline levels of anxiety as your hairline and upper lip were drenched as you walked through the arrivals gate.

Cards on the table; you didn’t have much of a game plan, you spoke no Spanish and stuck out like a sore thumb. You had the address but no means to get there, you didn’t relish the idea of getting in a taxi as a woman alone in a foreign country, but with little to no other options you went to hail one of the cabs that sat outside the airport.

Your fears turned out to be for naught, well not quite naught as the man had raked his eyes across your body for a large percentage of the trip in his mirror, but he had the good grace not to kidnap or murder you, which for you meant it was a successful journey, how low you had set the bar was just occuring to you.

After paying the gentleman he dropped you outside what appeared to Steve’s apartment building. You take a moment on the pavement to recollect yourself ready for your reunion. Peeling your denim jacket off, you decide instead to wrap it around your waist, tying the sleeves securely. With a harumph, you grab the handle of your suitcase, and drag it behind you. Your success thus far gives you a second wind of determination.

Though apparently dumb luck can only get you so far, because after heaving your suitcase up a flight of stairs and rapping on the door of apartment 20 until your knuckles ached, it began to dawn on you, you had no clue if this was even the right building.

“Fuck.” you mutter to yourself, you should’ve rang Connie or tried Steve again when you landed, but you’d been so single minded in carrying out your plan all common sense had apparently abandoned you. So with a million different scenarios of things you could’ve done better playing out behind your eyes you dragged your suitcase to the small lobby of the building, where the front door stood.

You huffed and dropped onto the bottom step in surrender, not quite sure where to go from here. 

Weeks of anxiety and worry finally took their toll on your body as reality set in, and as it did so you couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer stupidity of the situation you’d put yourself in. A light chuckle escaped your body as you held your face in your hands,you rubbed at your eyes as a way of refreshing yourself before sighing and leaning back.

You must have sat with your head in your hands for around three hours before anyone of note arrived, you had received strange looks from residents in their comings and goings as they stepped around you, your expectant looks turned to disappointment when you realised they weren’t Steve. In fairness, you, a gringa sitting on the stairs at 2am, most likely wasn’t a daily occurrence to these homeowners.

By the time he came through the door, your eyes were closed and your head was leant on the bannister, trying to get what little rest you could. Your eyes opened a crack to see a man and a woman enter the building and turn right, the man had his arm around her as he stared at you in confusion, the look was so quick you may have missed it if you blinked, but they were talking in low whispers of Spanish and from the looks of things he didn’t give you a second thought. 

So you extended him the same courtesy and shut your eyes once again, you heard the metal jangling of keys going into the lock, the sound of smacking lips and then the door was closed. You figured that was the end of it, instead you heard hurried footsteps coming towards you, your eyes shot open as he rounded the corner.

“Estás bien?” The man questioned. It took you a moment to realise he was talking to you, as you took him in you were struck by your stupidity, how could you have dismissed this man so quickly even in the throes of a mental breakdown. His chocolate brown eyes bore into your own as you realised he was waiting for a response. 

“Uh… no hablo... español?” you pretty much asked him, cringing internally at your butchering of the most basic sentence of this gorgeous strangers language, his lips quirked at your mumbles making his mustache raise on one side with his smirk. Now, you’d never been a fan of a mustache, Steve and your father had both taken to styling their facial hair in such a way, and as a rule of thumb they were a big no-no. But my god. This man made that mustache his bitch and that bitch worked for him.

“You’re American?” He questions, smirk dropping along with his eyebrows in confusion as his brain processes the information.

“Oh thank god and Jesus fuckin’ christ above. You’re American!” Your timid nature had given way to pure unadulterated relief. “Stevie, Steve Murphy, he lives in this building, yeah?”

“Yeah… Stevi...Steve lives here- I’m sorry, who the hell are you?” He asks with a puzzled look and a shake of his head, there’s an air of distrust about him for some strange reason. 

“I’m Y/N Murphy, I’m his sister.”

“Sister? Mierda... does he know you’re here?” 

“Nope,” You pop your P as you shrug at the man before you with false nonchalance. “He’d have to answer the phone to me or Connie to know that now, wouldn’t he?”

“Steve.” The stranger sighed, annoyed. 

“Sorry, who are you?” You asked, yourself becoming more bemused by the man by the second. 

“I’m Steve’s partner, Javier.” He held out his hand which you were more than happy to take in a shake, his tan hand was soft yet strong as it held your own captive within it. “C’mon in I’ll give him a call, God knows what time he’s planning on getting back.”

“Uh, I don’t want to interrupt…” You mumble, waving your free hand vaguely towards where you knew the woman was waiting for him, making him smirk once again. 

You were beginning to think that the sarcastic raise of his mouth was just his default resting face.

“You’re not interrupting anything.”

Now I know what you’re thinking, ‘cause I’d think it to. This is how people die in America, let alone fuckin’ Colombia, but if it's a choice between dying at the hands of a gorgeous man who seems to know your brother or a stray that wonders in through the non-descript lobby door then you’d rather go out with a nice view, even if he did have a girlfriend.

If you had to gamble, you’d say you had a damn good chance of making it out of this apartment alive. 

So you nodded and used the hand he hadn’t released yet to pull yourself up into a standing position. He wasn’t particularly tall but he still towered over you, your eyeline gave you a great view past his black shirt which was unbuttoned quite liberally, you assumed that was courtesy of the woman he’d entered with. 

“Thank you,” you nodded at him with a genuine smile of relief. He didn’t reply, only grabbed the handle of your pull along suitcase before extending his arm towards his apartment and motioning to wordlessly say, after you. 

Now you know how people say when you can feel a stare? You had the sensation before, but as you leaned over to pick up your backpack from the bottom step, you felt his eyes laser focus on your denim clad ass. You turned your head in disbelief and found his eyes still lingered there for a moment before meeting your own. Unbelievable. Part of you was flattered, the other part was bemused that he had a beautiful woman in there waiting and here he was ogling you.

You rolled your eyes, instilled with a new confidence as you turned and walked towards his apartment, you felt his eyes follow your form once more. 

Steve’s hot partner was an ass man... Good to know. 

...

As it turns out Javier’s girlfriend, or what you we’re starting to think was more of a one night stand, was not happy with the situation at all, you came to this discovery as Javier pointed you to the sofa before beginning arguing with her in hushed Spanish, the beautiful woman huffed and sent a dirty look your way before storming out and slamming the door behind her, with enough power to make it shake in its bearings. You raised your eyebrows at Javier from your seat. He shook his head with a sigh and began lighting up a cigarette, he turned and offered you one. 

“No thanks, I quit.”

“Woman with an iron will?”

“Not quite,” You whisper, shaking your head.

He smiles before clearing his throat and moving over to pick up his landline. Javier presses a combination of buttons, before putting it to his ear and blowing the smoke from his lungs. His eyes met yours as the phone rang, he gave you reassuring wink. 

“Murphy? … Yeah…  you need to get back to your place now... You’ve got a guest.... No … come find out why don’t you?” Sarcasm dripped from his lazy tone, his voice was so smooth. It was like chocolate on gravel, you could listen to him talk for hours, which led your mind down that deep dark hole of what he sounded like during more carnal acts, he’d be a talker, for definite, what with all that confidence and swagger. “‘Kay… I’ll see you soon.”

Shaking your head you centred yourself, it had been a dry patch for you. You needed to calm down and not throw yourself at your brother's partner, even if he just so happened to be the first man you had any interest in to show you attention in months. 

“He’s on his way,” He confirmed what you already knew but you liked hearing him speak so you nodded in thanks. An awkward silence filled the air for a few moments, as you two perfect strangers shared one another's company.

“Drink?” He offered pointing at the bottle of whiskey on the counter.

“God, yes.” You all but moaned at the offer. Javier chuckled, and grabbed a second glass from his cupboard, before pouring you both a generous serving.  He walked around the back of the sofa, and passed you the glass of liquid gold and took a seat next to you. Close enough to initiate something, but not touching, quite a respectful distance. 

Initiate something? God Y/N, get your mind out of the gutter. This poor man had only invited you in because you were his partner's sister and he was doing the decent thing. 

“Uh… The television work?” You ask, pointing at the empty screen.

“I didn’t realise you could speak Spanish…” His voice was dripping with false surprise, mocking your earlier attempts at the language, though he reached across and switched the box on with the remote, he began flicking through the channels so quickly he almost gave you a headache.

“Oh yes, I’m very proficient, I just didn’t want to intimidate you earlier. Hola Señor Javier.”  You say continuing his ruse. He chuckles at your words, it's a deep warm noise that shakes his entire frame. You were definitely thinking about adding Javier’s voice to your top ten list of favourite sounds. 

He flicks through the channels, for a few seconds before sighing and dropping the remote in your lap. Taking your assignment seriously, you sit up, bringing yourself a few inches closer to the man next to you, purely accidentally of course and begin flicking through the channels as Javier had done moments before, though 3am TV scheduling left a lot to be desired. 

News, News, Colombian QVC, News, News, Soap opera. Bingo!

“Ah, now we’re talking.” You mumble, eyes stuck on the screen of the Colombian Soap opera playing. The two of you sat in silence once again as you slowly sipped on your drinks watching drama play out. 

You watched in silence for around ten minutes, not understanding a single word of what was being said. The scene was on two latino actors sitting in a bedroom. The woman was sat on the bed being confronted by the man in a serious tone. 

“What is she saying?” You question narrowing your eyes at the beautiful woman's tone. Javier, who had been watching your reactions the whole time as you got into the awful tv show scrambled as he tried to listen and translate the woman's words.

“Uh… her dads an alcoholic and she’s trying to support her son… that guy didn’t know about the son... I think… she was happy living a double life without the worry and she wants him to forgive her and start over…”  Javier translated, giving you the general cliff notes.

“Oh shit,” You gasped at his words, but your attention diverted to the screen where the two had continued their heated argument and began kissing or rather where the man was devouring her neck, “I’m getting vibes that he might be open to forgiving her.” 

You chuckled at your own joke, as did Javier. Though this time when his body shook his bare elbow touched your own. 

How was he so goddamn warm? 

All he was wearing was a black button down shirt. One that looked to be the wrong size it was so tightly fitted- not that you were complaining about the view. My God, were you horny today.

You took a gulp of your drink, trying to refocus for the third or fourth time this evening, trying so desperately to reign in your inner school girl and focus on the television, though that didn’t help as the actors were now eating one anothers faces on a bed. The silence was thick with tension, though that could’ve been entirely on you; one innocent touch of a man's elbow and you’re a blushing mess.  

Get a grip Y/N. 

The silence dragged on as you pretended to watch the soap opera you had absolutely no understanding of in a futile attempt to ignore the man next to you. You can only imagine what he thought of your levels of focus on the tv, as you stared at the box in the corner of the room like it was the greatest cinematic masterpiece of all time and you were getting ready to write a full-scale analysis on the work of art. 

Javier broke the tension in the room by finally asking the question that had been on his lips all evening.

“You came all the way to Colombia... Why?” Javier grabbed a cigarette off of the coffee table, placing his drink where the carton of smokes had been. He lit the stick and waited for your response, honestly, you were thrown. The question had come out of nowhere whilst you were still trying to analyse why exactly this man had such an effect on you when he was doing nothing but being a good host.  You hastened to think up a half coherent reply before you just answered truthfully. 

“Steve stopped answering the phone, I mean he’s always been shitty at checking in, even when he was in Miami. When he got here we’d have a catch up every week or so, we all know how dangerous it is for you guys over here, so we joked about calling it ‘the alive check’. For the last couple of months, I was checking in with Connie more than Steve but he’d still pick up once every week, without fail. Then four weeks ago the fucker stopped answering my calls all together and Connie showed up on my doorstep with Olivia in tow last week.”

“Look, you coming down here probably makes more problems than it solves, Steve’s a big boy if he doesn’t call to check in, it's probably ‘cause he’s busy...  He’s-” Something about Javier’s dismissive tone rubbed you the wrong way, call it sleep deprivation or blame the weeks of stress, but you were tired of being called paranoid. You were not an overbearing mother hen.

“My brother always answers my calls. Or at least he used to. I can’t begin to understand what you guys are going through, but I’m not losing my brother to some piece of shit Colombian drug dealer.” 

Javier raised his hands in mock surrender, cigarette still in mouth. “He’s actually more of a drug lord slash narcoterrorist, but-”

“How is he?” You interrupt Javier’s attempt at diffusing the situation with humor, turning to him on the sofa. You rearranged yourself, bringing your leg up so your knee touched his thigh as you gave him your full attention,  you plucked the smoke from between his lips and held it between your two fingers as you spoke. “Tell me Steve’s fine. Tell me I’m worrying for nothing and I’ll get back on that plane and leave tomorrow morning."

You take one drag and offer it back to him, he accepts it, deliberately looking you in the eyes as he places the cigarette in his mouth, attaching his lips to where your own had been seconds earlier.  He takes it from his mouth and stubs it on an ash tray that rests on the arm of the sofa, his focus is single minded on his task. The pressure in your lower stomach is mounting as you stare at the tanned man before you who is carrying out a menial task that has you more turned on than you’d ever admit. 

When the red tip is extinguished thoroughly, taking much longer than you thought it needed to, Javi turns to you, his mahogany eyes have you pinned in your tracks. You found yourself admitting they were gorgeous for the second time this evening, they were the type of brown you could never quite describe, they had so much depth, not quite a chocolate, not quite coffee, they were rich and deep pools. They reminded you of the forest, not the green leaves but the earthy brown, the strong beams of wood that held everything up around it.

Javier's hand emigrated forward slowly, your eyes followed the movement in your peripheral but you didn’t dare look away from the pools of molasses as he reached to grip one hand at your denim thigh, his eyes roamed your face for any sign of this being an unwelcome approach and when he found none his other hand began its climb to rest on your jaw, just below your ear.

You couldn’t say if you moved towards him or if he advanced on you, all you knew was he was on you now as the tips of your noses rubbed against one another.

“Quiero saborearte…” He whispered so lowly you barely even heard it before he leaned in that last inch and captured your lips in a single, chaste kiss. Your lips connected and you realised the heat you had felt from his arms had been nothing. Fire coursed through your veins upon contact, surging through your blood and going south to a pressure that built in your lower stomach. 

Your hand shot up to land on his collarbone, before you could even really consider your own actions you pulled apart until your foreheads were the only thing touching.  He was intoxicating, you could lose yourself completely in this man, he somehow smelt like cinnamon, whiskey and sweat, a combination you’d never thought would send liquid fire through your central nervous system.  You’d give anything to taste him properly, but this was wrong. So so wrong. This was your brother's partner, this was inviting complication to your door, when you were just here to check on Steve. You were here for Steve.

You were here for Steve... 

“... This isn’t a good idea.” You all but whisper, closing your eyes. Regret pulses through your veins at your self imposed restraint. 

“Never is.” He leaned forward and captured your lips. You didn’t have any fight left in you, exhausted and at wits end you embraced your spiral into stupidity instead and your hands glided across the clammy skin of his neck to grab at his short ink black hair. You wrapped your fingers around it to drag him closer to you, your lips clashed, all teeth at first but you didn’t care as his tongue began to fight against yours for dominance. 

He tasted as good as you imagined, he was the right combination of sweet and bitter, with undertones of whiskey and tobacco on his tongue. Your response to his assault on your mouth told him it was go time, Javier pulled you into his lap and his hands lowered to your ass. Your body was flush with his own as your breasts pressed against his chest, you could feel every solid line of his lithe body against your own. 

You licked at his honied tongue, before withdrawing and pulling his bottom lip into your mouth and sucking on the soft plush skin. His mustache tickled your upper lip, a sensation you weren’t used to but could so easily grow to love.  This made him tighten his grip on your backside in response and he let out a throaty groan at the meat he found there, Javier was definitely an ass man, you felt his bulge pressing against your core as you both began grinding against each other in earnest. You felt like a horny teenager as you grinded on a man you barely knew. 

You felt him grip at the bottom of your tank top and begin to lift it, except he stopped, and began to rub patterns on the stomach he exposed. Javier’s mouth descended from your lips to begin to suck and lick at your throat. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at his work as pleasure rippled throught your body. His hands slid the length of your body to grab at your chest, which conforming to every stereotype was heaving, he palmed your breast blindly as his face was still buried in your hair, sucking and kissing along to your ear, before he raised his mouth a mere inch and whispered  “Te follaré toda la noche niña.”

He said it with such surety that your body convulsed in on itself without even needing to know what the man above you was saying. You could only hope it was absolutely filthy and profanity ridden, because then at least, the sentiment would be shared. He bit at the lobe of your ear before his hands left your breasts and travelled to the hem of your tank top, getting ready to pull it over your head.

It was strange to say that you remembered your brother was on his way here as a man tried to take your t-shirt off, but that’s just the way it went. You knew if that top came off, dry humping would be the most PG action of the night and if Steve turned up and found you mounted on his partner, he probably wouldn’t be too thrilled. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from stroking the man's hair whose face was planted in between your tits as his hips rose against your own pushing his hardened length up against the seams of your jeans, you gasped as he hit that sweet spot. You let out a noise that sounded like a wail. You wanted nothing more than to lie back and let this man have his filthy way with your body. And you know, from the hour you’ve spent with this man it would be phenomenally filthy. The kind of sex that would ruin all men for you, but no. You had to be a good sister. Like a fuckin loser. 

Sighing, you threw your body sideways before you could change your mind and ended up on your back. Javier followed you, caging you with his frame as he covered your body with his own.  Gripping your face like he was a starving man and you were the only sustenance he’d ever need. It would be so easy to get lost in him, to give in to that magic tongue but you couldn’t let this go any further so you placed a hand on his chest.

Taking your cue he paused his tongues assault on your mouth and stopped, resting his forehead against your own. You were both breathing heavily trying to come back down to reality, his eyes were no longer the chocolate brown you’d been comforted by when you met, but rings of obsidian staring into your soul. You wanted this man, my god you did. But this would make more problems for Steve.

The two of you stayed that way for a while, foreheads and bodies pressed against one another until both of your breathing evened out. The silence dragged, heavy in the air as you two strangers both waited for the other to break it. 

“...Is Steve okay?”

“...No... He’s been fuckin’ mess ever since Connie left.” Javier sighed whilst closing his eyes and breathing deep. You raised your hands from his chest, which was difficult as he was crushing his body to yours and cupped his cheek, you joined your lips once more, much like the first kiss. This was sweet and there wasn’t a carnal appetite behind it but rather an understanding. 

The loud knock on the front door startles you both as you’d been so wrapped up in one another you’d not heard the steps leading to it. The two of you split apart like a pair of guilty teens caught in the act. You both stared at each other for a second before he nods at you and walks to the front door whilst rearranging his bulge discreetly in his jeans, this was something you pretended not to see as you sat back up right on the sofa. You had only a moment to fix yourself, as you pulled your tank top from where it was hooked by your breasts and ran your fingers through your hair so you didn’t look like you’ve just had the ravaging of a lifetime. 

Javier pulled open the door and you clutch your hands into your lap, not quite sure what kind of reception you were about to receive from your brother. You hear the two men greet one another in hushed whispers, you couldn’t make out Steve's voice much until you hear his voice clear as day “...what the hell was so important it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

You stand from your spot on the sofa and quickly realise the button on your jeans is undone; if you’re honest you don’t even know how he managed to do that without you noticing, even though it's not the time you take a solitary second to commend Javier on his artistry of disrobing a woman. Turning quickly you pull the rivet back through the hole and swing around as Steve crosses the threshold from the hallway.  

Steve looks from you, to Javier and then back to you once more in complete surprise. It takes his brain a hot second to process that you’re here in front of him and in Colombia before he rushes you. Clutching you tight and hugging you to his chest. You hear something that sounds suspiciously like a sob leave your brothers chest before he collapses into you. The front door and Javier’s bedroom both in rapid succession, giving you the privacy you knew your brother would need after breaking down like this.

You couldn’t support Steve’s weight with your considerably smaller frame and the two of you fell to the ground as you held your broken brother. His body shook with silent sobs as he buried his face in your shoulder.

You said nothing as you held him and stroked his hair. In that moment you thanked your every instinct that screamed at you to come to Colombia. 

This had definitely not been a mistake. 

Part Two

[screechthemighty]

An Essay About Resident Evil: Village That No One Asked For But I’m Posting It Anyways

So, the Beneviento House is my favorite part of Village for two reasons. One: it’s the scariest part of the game, don’t @ me. Two: On a second play through, it actually reveals a lot about the issues in Ethan and Mia’s marriage. There’s a lot to unpack here with that, but the tl;dr of it is this: I believe what Ethan experiences in House Beneviento is trip into Ethan’s psyche rather than an actual, physical event, and this trip confirms that his arguments with Mia were made worse by a) him worrying about Rose more than he worries about himself, and b) him assuming that Mia is worried about the same things he is; thus, his hallucinations of her are more a reflection of himself than they are of reality.

All of my logic and evidence is under the cut. Fair warning, it’s very long, I am so sorry, I really am. Aso, please note this is NOT a Mia-bashing post. We do not engage in Mia-bashing on this blog. Please go to someone else’s blog if you want to engage in Mia-bashing. Thank you.

There’s two important things to establish here. First: I think that 99% of what Ethan experiences in House Beneviento isn’t real, and is at least partially a manifestation of Ethan’s inner psyche. The evidence is as follows:

It makes no sense that Ethan would lose his entire inventory within the space of 0.5 seconds after the lights shut off. It makes much more sense that mind control made him think he no longer had a gun.

Several of the items and information used in the puzzles are things that Donna, logically, shouldn’t have access to. The music box was still in their home when Chris arrived (which wasn’t that long ago, keep in mind), I doubt Miranda cared enough to find out Rose’s preferred toys and the identity of who gifted them the music box, and there’s no way Donna would be able to get that picture of “Mia’s” dead body. Mia’s wedding ring is tentatively on this list, too; Donna would have access to it, since Mia was being held captive at the time, but I can’t remember if Mia is still wearing it when Chris saves her, so put that one down as a “maybe.”

You stab Angie (or, more properly, stab Donna) for the final time in the back room by the elevator. However, right after stabbing and killing her, you are suddenly by the front door again, the main part of the house is in shambles in a way that suggests a struggle, and you’re not holding the scissors anymore. If you try to backtrack to check the elevator, the door leading to that part of the house is locked (presumably From The Other Side, as they often are in RE).

Additionally, your entire inventory is spontaneously back in your pockets. In Biohazard, if you had inventory taken off of you, it had to be retrieved from a box later. Not this time (though, granted, this game doesn’t HAVE inventory boxes, but it’s an interesting detail when combined with everything else).

All of this, to me, points to Ethan having probably never left the main foyer throughout the majority of that mind trip. As for the hallucinations being fueled mostly by his psyche, a diary entry from the gardener mentions that the plants made him hallucinate his deceased wife, and as mentioned above, a lot of the puzzle relates to things specific and personal to Ethan. While I don’t doubt that Donna could and probably did influence the hallucination a bit (she is a puppet master after all), the building blocks were all there in Ethan’s head.

Second Important Thing to Establish: Ethan was completely missing the point during his arguments with Mia in the lead up to Village.

I’m of the opinion that the fights Ethan mentions in his diary were not a constant thing. I think they only started, at the earliest, while Mia was pregnant, but for sure after Rose was born. This is because pretty much all the canon evidence we see about their fights circles back to Rose. The diary entry where Ethan describes the fight they had is dated four days before Ethan’s death; meanwhile, the flashback fight (which is most likely of that very fight) is triggered by a conversation about Rose’s doctor’s visit and uses language that implies a lot of their talks (and presumably arguments) about “staying positive” have to do specifically with Rose and the move.

It’s also worth keeping in mind how much of Ethan’s thoughts about Dulvey and moving past it are related to Rose. Like, yeah, I’m sure he wants Mia to heal for her own good and he’d like to heal for his own good. That’s to be expected. But whenever he talks about moving to Europe and healing from Dulvey, it’s also about doing it for Rose and for her benefit (“so we can live our lives with Rose without it hanging over our heads” in the diary, “We moved here so that she wouldn’t have to deal with any of that” in the argument with “Mia” at the start). Additionally, in the flashback he says, “[Rose]’s going to be fine, I just know it. What else matters?” Rose is Ethan’s #1 priority and much of his concern is focused on her.

But—and this is the important thing here—not all of Mia’s is. The end of the game reveals that Mia knew, most likely as a result of her pregnancy with Rose, that Ethan was a megamycete hybrid.  In the flashback fight, she says, “I keep telling you, it’s not Rose that I’m worried about”, and the one moment when she truly explodes on him is after he implies that the only thing that matters is Rose’s safety. “We matter, Ethan! YOU matter! You just won’t-” Her exact words. We never find out what the won’t is, but I have a feeling what she’s getting at is that Ethan is unwilling to look past his worries about Rose and always circles the argument back to her. Now, we don’t see this directly, as we’re only privy to one real argument of theirs (Miranda being bitchy doesn’t count), but there’s past evidence to suggest this was probably the case.

The thing about Ethan is that he can be single-minded in his protective instinct, and we’ve known this since the last game. There’s a little throwaway moment in Biohazard where Mia thanks Ethan for choosing to save her over Zoe. He responds “Who the hell else was I going to choose?” with like, zero hesitation, and she seems taken aback by the response. Now, of course, Mia being his choice makes sense, she’s the whole reason he came here, But Zoe did still help him out, and she is still a victim in all of this. She deserved to get out of there as much as Mia did. But Ethan chose Mia without any hesitation, would have chosen her every time, and while he did promise (and keep said promise) to help Zoe, Mia was his top priority. He lost a limb (or two, depending) and dragged himself through hell for Mia—and keep in mind, this is despite him being on some level aware of the fact that she was involved in all that mess (he POINT BLANK ASKS, “You had something to do with all of this, didn’t you?”) and after she’d behaved aggressively towards him (granted, that was while she was under mind control, but that would definitely give some people pause).

Ethan cares about other people in his life first and foremost. Ethan barely cares about himself. He focuses on saving Mia at the expense of his own safety and someone else’s, and when things start getting bad again after Dulvey, his sole focus is on how it could affect Rose. I have a feeling a big part of the reasons the disagreements happened, in addition to Mia keeping information from him, was Ethan focusing on Rose’s safety, as if it’s the only thing that they could have to be worried about, and how frustrating that must have been for the woman who has seen first hand what Ethan is like and how much trouble his intense protectiveness can get him in. (Note: this does not excuse Mia from not just like. Telling him the truth, but I have my own theories about that, so we’ll leave it at “they were both talking past each other in a big way and that wasn’t helping the marriage any” because my analysis of Mia as a character is WAY beyond the scope of this post.)

Now, you’d think, you’d think with Mia having repeatedly telegraphed that Rose isn’t the problem here, that Ethan would on some level be aware of the fact that something else is going on. But he isn’t, or at least, he isn’t aware of the right things, and Beneviento House proves it.

So, Ethan is having a hell of a bad trip based off of his own insecurities and fears: his unresolved issues with Mia and his daughter’s safety. We have established above that Ethan has completely been misreading his arguments, and with that in mind, everything that Hallucination!Mia says from the second you see her gets really interesting. Starting with:

“Rose feels different. Ethan, you have to fix her” and “That’s a kick. […] She’s so energetic, it’s crazy.” Mia most likely caught on during the pregnancy that something was different about Rose. They were already ordering medical reports, including fungal pathogen testing by the BSAA, and her health was a definite source of anxiety for Ethan (his response to reading her medical file being a relieved sigh). Mia notices something is different about Rose, probably works it out, and realizes what the wider implications are for the family. Ethan is just plain worried about his daughter’s health, assumes Mia’s worries match his own, and that assumption is reflected in both the memories that come to the surface and the words his psyche put in Mia’s mouth.

“I can’t tell Ethan anything about this”, “Everyone leaves me, even Rose. I don’t want to be alone” and “I didn’t want to keep it from you. I didn’t want to lose you again. I didn’t want to destroy this family. I love you both so much. I had to. I had to do it.” Now, I don’t think the last two are anything Mia has directly said, but they all could be Ethan’s interpretation of her recent behavior. As mentioned above, he’s already aware that she’s kept at least one secret from him, and seems to know something is going on with Rose. If Mia’s not telling me, it’s because she’s worried about both of us, and doesn’t want to break up the family.

This one is a bit of conjecture and my own personal interpretation of Mia, but you’ve come this far, so hear me out: through these hallucinations, Ethan reads the aggressive secret-keeping as an attempt to keep the family together so that Mia won’t be abandoned again. I think he’s probably at least partially correct in that assumption. However, I think it’s also partially a projection of his own desires and motivations (keeping his family together at any costs). On top of that, he’s definitely missing the fact that Mia knows something is up with him as well. Telling Ethan doesn’t just potentially mean wrecking the family; it could wreck him on a personal level, and put him in a lot of danger. So while Ethan assumes it’s just about the family, there’s a lot more on Mia’s mind. That a lot more just isn’t reflected because Ethan doesn’t know.

The final bits of audio you hear are Mia crying for Rose, then repeating to herself that everything is going to be fine. Again, we know that Mia was worried about more than Rose. Ethan doesn’t. Ethan is worried about Rose first and foremost, has misread Mia due to his singular focus and lack of vital information, and in misreading Mia has created this version of events where Rose is the one who’s really in danger. Despite Mia indicating there’s more to it, he still reads what’s going on as being Rose-centered, and the fact that Rose is now genuinely in serious danger doesn’t help with that.

At the end, when Ethan says “Mia. I’ll make things right”, he’s talking about the wrong thing. He’s saying he’ll protect Rose, he’ll save her, he’ll keep her safe in a way he hadn’t been able to with Mia.

What he’s missing is the fact that, while he might’ve been just worried about Rose, Mia never was. That’s one part he can’t make right. Mia would’ve had to; she just never got the chance.

(Sidebar no one asked for, but I personally think she would have, either of her own accord or because the BSAA fungal reports (which seem to be the test results the doctor wanted to talk to them about if I’m understanding the timeline right) would’ve blown the whole thing wide open for her. It was basically inevitable. Doesn’t excuse all the secret keeping up until that point, but I like to think she would’ve come clean. Freaking MIRANDA JUST HAD TO GO AND RUIN IT THOUGH - )

[busycryin]

REPOST - THE NIGHT WE MET

THE NIGHT WE MET

PART ONE - THE NIGHT WE MET

Pairing: Javier Peña/ Female Murphy!Reader

Words: 5.3k

Summary: You decide to travel to Colombia on a whim, there you meet a gorgeous stranger that just so happens to be your brothers partner. 

Content Warnings: 18+ Smut-ish (I wouldn’t wanna read it out to my mom), dry humping, dirty talk in Spanish which reader doesn’t understand so does it really count?, gratuitous love of the black shirt from the torture scene.

Anon was worried about losing my work when I switched blogs, so fear not. I’m reposting on here but I have no intention of deleting my other blog, it’s where I got my first 200 notes and I’m honestly blown away by it. I’m happy to announce I’m working on a fourth part. I’m not sure when I’ll post it as I’m still in the idea stage but it’s definitely a start, ay!

AO3

MASTERLIST

Author Note: So here is my return to writing! The word count got away from me but I loved every second of it. Always after prompts, so drop me a message on here if you’d like to see anything in particular. If it’s in my wheelhouse, you’ll definitely see it.  

Pedro in the black shirt is what inspired me to write this, I can’t lie.

If you were brutally honest with yourself, this spur of the moment decision may have been a mistake.

Other people could make these choices and not have that nagging feeling in their gut from the second they booked their fuckin’ airline ticket. You had attempted to grab your crappy life by its metaphorical horns and go and sort this shit show out by yourself, but after your momentary bravery was used up, all that was left was a crippling anxiety that threatened to send you into one of your full scale panic attacks if you thought too hard about the fact you were following your big brother to Colombia.

Yes, Colombia. You, a U.S. national with no particular interest in hunting Pablo Escobar, had decided to vacation in sunny, crime ridden Bogotá on a whim.

You were fuckin’ dumb.

Sarcasm aside, you weren’t actually here on vacation, you were going to check on Stevie. Your brother, one of the DEA agents assigned with taking down Escobar.

You’d been worried about him for a few months, it had sounded like he was dealing with heavy shit in South America, you knew that was the job, but he was still your brother.

His calls had gotten less and less frequent until he stopped returning them all together and the only reason you knew he was alive were your pep-talks with your sister-in-law, trying to help her keep her shit together, but hell, you weren’t a therapist or a miracle worker. So when Connie rang asking to stay at your place you had obliged and she had returned to Miami a mere shell of her former self.

After a mammoth amount of prodding over the course of two days you managed to wring the truth out of her, not the nuggets of information she had given you over the phone in hushed whispers during her time in Colombia but the whole messy story; the communist Elisa Alvarez, Steve’s kidnapping and the cold edges your brother was developing.

It was all you could do not to book the tickets there and then, but you held out and supported Connie in the ways Steve couldn’t have, taking care of Olivia when you could and just trying your hardest to be there for her. Your presence alone seemed to be enough to help her through the days that followed.  A week and a half after her return, you booked your flight to Colombia in secret.

You had to check on Steve.

He hadn’t answered a single one of your many many calls. You packed light and told Connie the morning of, and whilst she didn’t like it, she understood. You supposed that a part of her was relieved to know her husband would have someone in Colombia that wasn’t there to kill him.

So here you sat, two hours into your flight to the paradise destination; Bogotá. Your brother’s address scrawled on a scrap piece of paper in the one hand and a glass of cheap whiskey in the other.  The alcohol did little to to calm your nerves, this was a dangerous place for a cop, let alone a fuckin’ clueless civilian.

When the plane finally touched down, you stood from your seat emptying the last few drops of whiskey which had tried to evade you onto your tongue, you picked up your backpack and queued to leave the plane.

The second you left the aircraft the humidity hit you like a brick wall, it was like all of the fresh air had been sucked out of the atmosphere. On a normal evening you would appreciate such a warm climate, but now the heat meant frustration to your tired brain and it only added to your baseline levels of anxiety as your hairline and upper lip were drenched as you walked through the arrivals gate.

Cards on the table; you didn’t have much of a game plan, you spoke no Spanish and stuck out like a sore thumb. You had the address but no means to get there, you didn’t relish the idea of getting in a taxi as a woman alone in a foreign country, but with little to no other options you went to hail one of the cabs that sat outside the airport.

Your fears turned out to be for naught, well not quite naught as the man had raked his eyes across your body for a large percentage of the trip in his mirror, but he had the good grace not to kidnap or murder you, which for you meant it was a successful journey, how low you had set the bar was just occuring to you.

After paying the gentleman he dropped you outside what appeared to Steve’s apartment building. You take a moment on the pavement to recollect yourself ready for your reunion. Peeling your denim jacket off, you decide instead to wrap it around your waist, tying the sleeves securely. With a harumph, you grab the handle of your suitcase, and drag it behind you. Your success thus far gives you a second wind of determination.

Though apparently dumb luck can only get you so far, because after heaving your suitcase up a flight of stairs and rapping on the door of apartment 20 until your knuckles ached, it began to dawn on you, you had no clue if this was even the right building.

“Fuck.” you mutter to yourself, you should’ve rang Connie or tried Steve again when you landed, but you’d been so single minded in carrying out your plan all common sense had apparently abandoned you. So with a million different scenarios of things you could’ve done better playing out behind your eyes you dragged your suitcase to the small lobby of the building, where the front door stood.

You huffed and dropped onto the bottom step in surrender, not quite sure where to go from here.

Weeks of anxiety and worry finally took their toll on your body as reality set in, and as it did so you couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer stupidity of the situation you’d put yourself in. A light chuckle escaped your body as you held your face in your hands, you rubbed at your eyes as a way of refreshing yourself before sighing and leaning back.

You must have sat with your head in your hands for around three hours before anyone of note arrived, you had received strange looks from residents in their comings and goings as they stepped around you, your expectant looks turned to disappointment when you realised they weren’t Steve. In fairness, you, a gringa sitting on the stairs at 2am, most likely wasn’t a daily occurrence to these homeowners.

By the time he came through the door, your eyes were closed and your head was leant on the bannister, trying to get what little rest you could. Your eyes opened a crack to see a man and a woman enter the building and turn right, the man had his arm around her as he stared at you in confusion, the look was so quick you may have missed it if you blinked, but they were talking in low whispers of Spanish and from the looks of things he didn’t give you a second thought.

So you extended him the same courtesy and shut your eyes once again, you heard the metal jangling of keys going into the lock, the sound of smacking lips and then the door was closed. You figured that was the end of it, instead you heard hurried footsteps coming towards you, your eyes shot open as he rounded the corner.

“Estás bien?” The man questioned. It took you a moment to realise he was talking to you, as you took him in you were struck by your stupidity, how could you have dismissed this man so quickly even in the throes of a mental breakdown. His chocolate brown eyes bore into your own as you realised he was waiting for a response.

“Uh… no hablo… español?” you pretty much asked him, cringing internally at your butchering of the most basic sentence of this gorgeous strangers language, his lips quirked at your mumbles making his mustache raise on one side with his smirk. Now, you’d never been a fan of a mustache, Steve and your father had both taken to styling their facial hair in such a way, and as a rule of thumb they were a big no-no. But my god. This man made that mustache his bitch and that bitch worked for him.

“You’re American?” He questions, smirk dropping along with his eyebrows in confusion as his brain processes the information.

“Oh thank god and Jesus fuckin’ christ above. You’re American!” Your timid nature had given way to pure unadulterated relief. “Stevie, Steve Murphy, he lives in this building, yeah?”

“Yeah… Stevi…Steve lives here- I’m sorry, who the hell are you?” He asks with a puzzled look and a shake of his head, there’s an air of distrust about him for some strange reason.

“I’m Y/N Murphy, I’m his sister.”

“Sister? Mierda… does he know you’re here?”

“Nope,” You pop your P as you shrug at the man before you with false nonchalance. “He’d have to answer the phone to me or Connie to know that now, wouldn’t he?”

“Steve.” The stranger sighed, annoyed.

“Sorry, who are you?” You asked, yourself becoming more bemused by the man by the second.

“I’m Steve’s partner, Javier.” He held out his hand which you were more than happy to take in a shake, his tan hand was soft yet strong as it held your own captive within it. “C’mon in I’ll give him a call, God knows what time he’s planning on getting back.”

“Uh, I don’t want to interrupt…” You mumble, waving your free hand vaguely towards where you knew the woman was waiting for him, making him smirk once again.

You were beginning to think that the sarcastic raise of his mouth was just his default resting face.

“You’re not interrupting anything.”

Now I know what you’re thinking, ‘cause I’d think it to. This is how people die in America, let alone fuckin’ Colombia, but if it’s a choice between dying at the hands of a gorgeous man who seems to know your brother or a stray that wonders in through the non-descript lobby door then you’d rather go out with a nice view, even if he did have a girlfriend.

If you had to gamble, you’d say you had a damn good chance of making it out of this apartment alive.

So you nodded and used the hand he hadn’t released yet to pull yourself up into a standing position. He wasn’t particularly tall but he still towered over you, your eyeline gave you a great view past his black shirt which was unbuttoned quite liberally, you assumed that was courtesy of the woman he’d entered with.

“Thank you,” you nodded at him with a genuine smile of relief. He didn’t reply, only grabbed the handle of your pull along suitcase before extending his arm towards his apartment and motioning to wordlessly say, after you.

Now you know how people say when you can feel a stare? You had the sensation before, but as you leaned over to pick up your backpack from the bottom step, you felt his eyes laser focus on your denim clad ass. You turned your head in disbelief and found his eyes still lingered there for a moment before meeting your own. Unbelievable. Part of you was flattered, the other part was bemused that he had a beautiful woman in there waiting and here he was ogling you.

You rolled your eyes, instilled with a new confidence as you turned and walked towards his apartment, you felt his eyes follow your form once more.

Steve’s hot partner was an ass man… Good to know.

…

As it turns out Javier’s girlfriend, or what you we’re starting to think was more of a one night stand, was not happy with the situation at all, you came to this discovery as Javier pointed you to the sofa before beginning arguing with her in hushed Spanish, the beautiful woman huffed and sent a dirty look your way before storming out and slamming the door behind her, with enough power to make it shake in its bearings. You raised your eyebrows at Javier from your seat. He shook his head with a sigh and began lighting up a cigarette, he turned and offered you one.

“No thanks, I quit.”

“Woman with an iron will?”

“Not quite,” You whisper, shaking your head.

He smiles before clearing his throat and moving over to pick up his landline. Javier presses a combination of buttons, before putting it to his ear and blowing the smoke from his lungs. His eyes met yours as the phone rang, he gave you reassuring wink.

“Murphy? … Yeah…  you need to get back to your place now… You’ve got a guest…. No … come find out why don’t you?” Sarcasm dripped from his lazy tone, his voice was so smooth. It was like chocolate on gravel, you could listen to him talk for hours, which led your mind down that deep dark hole of what he sounded like during more carnal acts, he’d be a talker, for definite, what with all that confidence and swagger. “‘Kay… I’ll see you soon.”

Shaking your head you centred yourself, it had been a dry patch for you. You needed to calm down and not throw yourself at your brother’s partner, even if he just so happened to be the first man you had any interest in to show you attention in months.

“He’s on his way,” He confirmed what you already knew but you liked hearing him speak so you nodded in thanks. An awkward silence filled the air for a few moments, as you two perfect strangers shared one another’s company.

“Drink?” He offered pointing at the bottle of whiskey on the counter.

“God, yes.” You all but moaned at the offer. Javier chuckled, and grabbed a second glass from his cupboard, before pouring you both a generous serving.  He walked around the back of the sofa, and passed you the glass of liquid gold and took a seat next to you. Close enough to initiate something, but not touching, quite a respectful distance.

Initiate something? God Y/N, get your mind out of the gutter. This poor man had only invited you in because you were his partner’s sister and he was doing the decent thing.

“Uh… The television work?” You ask, pointing at the empty screen.

“I didn’t realise you could speak Spanish…” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, mocking your earlier attempts at the language, though he reached across and switched the box on with the remote, he began flicking through the channels so quickly he almost gave you a headache.

“Oh yes, I’m very proficient, I just didn’t want to intimidate you earlier. Hola Señor Javier.”  You say continuing his ruse. He chuckles at your words, it’s a deep warm noise that shakes his entire frame. You were definitely thinking about adding Javier’s voice to your top ten list of favourite sounds.

He flicks through the channels, for a few seconds before sighing and dropping the remote in your lap. Taking your assignment seriously, you sit up, bringing yourself a few inches closer to the man next to you, purely accidentally of course and begin flicking through the channels as Javier had done moments before, though 3am TV scheduling left a lot to be desired.

News, News, Colombian QVC, News, News, Soap opera. Bingo!

“Ah, now we’re talking.” You mumble, eyes stuck on the screen of the Colombian Soap opera playing. The two of you sat in silence once again as you slowly sipped on your drinks watching drama play out.

You watched in silence for around ten minutes, not understanding a single word of what was being said. The scene was on two latino actors sitting in a bedroom. The woman was sat on the bed being confronted by the man in a serious tone.

“What is she saying?” You question narrowing your eyes at the beautiful woman’s tone. Javier, who had been watching your reactions the whole time as you got into the awful tv show scrambled as he tried to listen and translate the woman’s words.

“Uh… her dads an alcoholic and she’s trying to support her son… that guy didn’t know about the son… I think… she was happy living a double life without the worry and she wants him to forgive her and start over…”  Javier translated, giving you the general cliff notes.

“Oh shit,” You gasped at his words, but your attention diverted to the screen where the two had continued their heated argument and began kissing or rather where the man was devouring her neck, “I’m getting vibes that he might be open to forgiving her.”

You chuckled at your own joke, as did Javier. Though this time when his body shook his bare elbow touched your own.

How was he so goddamn warm?

All he was wearing was a black button down shirt. One that looked to be the wrong size it was so tightly fitted- not that you were complaining about the view. My God, were you horny today.

You took a gulp of your drink, trying to refocus for the third or fourth time this evening, trying so desperately to reign in your inner school girl and focus on the television, though that didn’t help as the actors were now eating one anothers faces on a bed. The silence was thick with tension, though that could’ve been entirely on you; one innocent touch of a man’s elbow and you’re a blushing mess.  

Get a grip Y/N.

The silence dragged on as you pretended to watch the soap opera you had absolutely no understanding of in a futile attempt to ignore the man next to you. You can only imagine what he thought of your levels of focus on the tv, as you stared at the box in the corner of the room like it was the greatest cinematic masterpiece of all time and you were getting ready to write a full-scale analysis on the work of art.

Javier broke the tension in the room by finally asking the question that had been on his lips all evening.

“You came all the way to Colombia… Why?” Javier grabbed a cigarette off of the coffee table, placing his drink where the carton of smokes had been. He lit the stick and waited for your response, honestly, you were thrown. The question had come out of nowhere whilst you were still trying to analyse why exactly this man had such an effect on you when he was doing nothing but being a good host.  You hastened to think up a half coherent reply before you just answered truthfully.

“Steve stopped answering the phone, I mean he’s always been shitty at checking in, even when he was in Miami. When he got here we’d have a catch up every week or so, we all know how dangerous it is for you guys over here, so we joked about calling it ‘the alive check’. For the last couple of months, I was checking in with Connie more than Steve but he’d still pick up once every week, without fail. Then four weeks ago the fucker stopped answering my calls all together and Connie showed up on my doorstep with Olivia in tow last week.”

“Look, you coming down here probably makes more problems than it solves, Steve’s a big boy if he doesn’t call to check in, it’s probably ‘cause he’s busy…  He’s-” Something about Javier’s dismissive tone rubbed you the wrong way, call it sleep deprivation or blame the weeks of stress, but you were tired of being called paranoid. You were not an overbearing mother hen.

“My brother always answers my calls. Or at least he used to. I can’t begin to understand what you guys are going through, but I’m not losing my brother to some piece of shit Colombian drug dealer.”

Javier raised his hands in mock surrender, cigarette still in mouth. “He’s actually more of a drug lord slash narcoterrorist, but-”

“How is he?” You interrupt Javier’s attempt at diffusing the situation with humor, turning to him on the sofa. You rearranged yourself, bringing your leg up so your knee touched his thigh as you gave him your full attention,  you plucked the smoke from between his lips and held it between your two fingers as you spoke. “Tell me Steve’s fine. Tell me I’m worrying for nothing and I’ll get back on that plane and leave tomorrow morning.“

You take one drag and offer it back to him, he accepts it, deliberately looking you in the eyes as he places the cigarette in his mouth, attaching his lips to where your own had been seconds earlier.  He takes it from his mouth and stubs it on an ash tray that rests on the arm of the sofa, his focus is single minded on his task. The pressure in your lower stomach is mounting as you stare at the tanned man before you who is carrying out a menial task that has you more turned on than you’d ever admit.

When the red tip is extinguished thoroughly, taking much longer than you thought it needed to, Javi turns to you, his mahogany eyes have you pinned in your tracks. You found yourself admitting they were gorgeous for the second time this evening, they were the type of brown you could never quite describe, they had so much depth, not quite a chocolate, not quite coffee, they were rich and deep pools. They reminded you of the forest, not the green leaves but the earthy brown, the strong beams of wood that held everything up around it.

Javier’s hand emigrated forward slowly, your eyes followed the movement in your peripheral but you didn’t dare look away from the pools of molasses as he reached to grip one hand at your denim thigh, his eyes roamed your face for any sign of this being an unwelcome approach and when he found none his other hand began its climb to rest on your jaw, just below your ear.

You couldn’t say if you moved towards him or if he advanced on you, all you knew was he was on you now as the tips of your noses rubbed against one another.

“Quiero saborearte…” He whispered so lowly you barely even heard it before he leaned in that last inch and captured your lips in a single, chaste kiss. Your lips connected and you realised the heat you had felt from his arms had been nothing. Fire coursed through your veins upon contact, surging through your blood and going south to a pressure that built in your lower stomach.

Your hand shot up to land on his collarbone, before you could even really consider your own actions you pulled apart until your foreheads were the only thing touching.  He was intoxicating, you could lose yourself completely in this man, he somehow smelt like cinnamon, whiskey and sweat, a combination you’d never thought would send liquid fire through your central nervous system.  You’d give anything to taste him properly, but this was wrong. So so wrong. This was your brother’s partner, this was inviting complication to your door, when you were just here to check on Steve. You were here for Steve.

You were here for Steve…

“… This isn’t a good idea.” You all but whisper, closing your eyes. Regret pulses through your veins at your self imposed restraint.

“Never is.” He leaned forward and captured your lips. You didn’t have any fight left in you, exhausted and at wits end you embraced your spiral into stupidity instead and your hands glided across the clammy skin of his neck to grab at his short ink black hair. You wrapped your fingers around it to drag him closer to you, your lips clashed, all teeth at first but you didn’t care as his tongue began to fight against yours for dominance.

He tasted as good as you imagined, he was the right combination of sweet and bitter, with undertones of whiskey and tobacco on his tongue. Your response to his assault on your mouth told him it was go time, Javier pulled you into his lap and his hands lowered to your ass. Your body was flush with his own as your breasts pressed against his chest, you could feel every solid line of his lithe body against your own.

You licked at his honied tongue, before withdrawing and pulling his bottom lip into your mouth and sucking on the soft plush skin. His mustache tickled your upper lip, a sensation you weren’t used to but could so easily grow to love.  This made him tighten his grip on your backside in response and he let out a throaty groan at the meat he found there, Javier was definitely an ass man, you felt his bulge pressing against your core as you both began grinding against each other in earnest. You felt like a horny teenager as you grinded on a man you barely knew.

You felt him grip at the bottom of your tank top and begin to lift it, except he stopped, and began to rub patterns on the stomach he exposed. Javier’s mouth descended from your lips to begin to suck and lick at your throat. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at his work as pleasure rippled throat your body. His hands slid the length of your body to grab at your chest, which conforming to every stereotype was heaving, he palmed your breast blindly as his face was still buried in your hair, sucking and kissing along to your ear, before he raised his mouth a mere inch and whispered  “Te follaré toda la noche niña.”

He said it with such surety that your body convulsed in on itself without even needing to know what the man above you was saying. You could only hope it was absolutely filthy and profanity ridden, because then at least, the sentiment would be shared. He bit at the lobe of your ear before his hands left your breasts and travelled to the hem of your tank top, getting ready to pull it over your head.

It was strange to say that you remembered your brother was on his way here as a man tried to take your t-shirt off, but that’s just the way it went. You knew if that top came off, dry humping would be the most PG action of the night and if Steve turned up and found you mounted on his partner, he probably wouldn’t be too thrilled.

You couldn’t stop yourself from stroking the man’s hair whose face was planted in between your tits as his hips rose against your own pushing his hardened length up against the seams of your jeans, you gasped as he hit that sweet spot. You let out a noise that sounded like a wail. You wanted nothing more than to lie back and let this man have his filthy way with your body. And you know, from the hour you’ve spent with this man it would be phenomenally filthy. The kind of sex that would ruin all men for you, but no. You had to be a good sister. Like a fuckin loser.

Sighing, you threw your body sideways before you could change your mind and ended up on your back. Javier followed you, caging you with his frame as he covered your body with his own.  Gripping your face like he was a starving man and you were the only sustenance he’d ever need. It would be so easy to get lost in him, to give in to that magic tongue but you couldn’t let this go any further so you placed a hand on his chest.

Taking your cue he paused his tongues assault on your mouth and stopped, resting his forehead against your own. You were both breathing heavily trying to come back down to reality, his eyes were no longer the chocolate brown you’d been comforted by when you met, but rings of obsidian staring into your soul. You wanted this man, my god you did. But this would make more problems for Steve.

The two of you stayed that way for a while, foreheads and bodies pressed against one another until both of your breathing evened out. The silence dragged, heavy in the air as you two strangers both waited for the other to break it.

“…Is Steve okay?”

“…No… He’s been fuckin’ mess ever since Connie left.” Javier sighed whilst closing his eyes and breathing deep. You raised your hands from his chest, which was difficult as he was crushing his body to yours and cupped his cheek, you joined your lips once more, much like the first kiss. This was sweet and there wasn’t a carnal appetite behind it but rather an understanding.

The loud knock on the front door startles you both as you’d been so wrapped up in one another you’d not heard the steps leading to it. The two of you split apart like a pair of guilty teens caught in the act. You both stared at each other for a second before he nods at you and walks to the front door whilst rearranging his bulge discreetly in his jeans, this was something you pretended not to see as you sat back up right on the sofa. You had only a moment to fix yourself, as you pulled your tank top from where it was hooked by your breasts and ran your fingers through your hair so you didn’t look like you’ve just had the ravaging of a lifetime.

Javier pulled open the door and you clutch your hands into your lap, not quite sure what kind of reception you were about to receive from your brother. You hear the two men greet one another in hushed whispers, you couldn’t make out Steve’s voice much until you hear his voice clear as day “…what the hell was so important it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

You stand from your spot on the sofa and quickly realise the button on your jeans is undone; if you’re honest you don’t even know how he managed to do that without you noticing, even though it’s not the time you take a solitary second to commend Javier on his artistry of disrobing a woman. Turning quickly you pull the rivet back through the hole and swing around as Steve crosses the threshold from the hallway.  

Steve looks from you, to Javier and then back to you once more in complete surprise. It takes his brain a hot second to process that you’re here in front of him and in Colombia before he rushes you. Clutching you tight and hugging you to his chest. You hear something that sounds suspiciously like a sob leave your brothers chest before he collapses into you. The front door and Javier’s bedroom both in rapid succession, giving you the privacy you knew your brother would need after breaking down like this.

You couldn’t support Steve’s weight with your considerably smaller frame and the two of you fell to the ground as you held your broken brother. His body shook with silent sobs as he buried his face in your shoulder.

You said nothing as you held him and stroked his hair. In that moment you thanked your every instinct that screamed at you to come to Colombia.

This had definitely not been a mistake.

[some-dr-writings]

Gundham x shy reader who asks for kisses

·       Gundham always found himself enjoying his time with you, you were by far one of his greatest companions in this life. With how shy and meek you seemed to be when you first met, he never thought someone like you would become his partner, he always imagined that if he were to find one they’d be more outwardly bold, yet he fell for you.

·       Time and time again he had seen you try to approach others only to back out, running away in the end. It seemed you might have had a social anxiety of sorts, there had been several times where he had happened upon you after running, leaning against a wall breathing heavily, telling yourself that everything was alright. It was a rather pitiful state to find a person in, Mikan for as… flighty as she was could at least stammer out a few words to people if they talked to her, you on the other hand ended up just blabbering nonsense.

·       Well he thought what you spoke was gibberish till one day he found a little tablet on his desk. Curiously he turned on the device and was met with a box of text. “In a fairy tale kingdom far, far away peoples anxieties exist as monsters who follow them around. Tired of their monsters getting in the way of making friendships a shepherd and riddle solver devise a plan to meet without their anxieties. A river divides their lands and in that great river, a single, small island. There they would meet. First they would capture their anxieties and meet on the island in case they escaped to still be away from them. The shepherd successfully captured his monsters but the riddle solver failed, and more monsters were born of the failure, the riddle solver now having “hopelessness”. Can you get the shepherd and the riddle solver to the island? There are several conditions to this however. 1, no monsters can be with the shepherd and the riddle solver on the island, 2, with every trip the boat makes across the river another monster will find the riddle solver, the shepherd’s monsters will find him every other turn, 3, if the shepherd or the riddle solver are with 5 of their monsters they will be consumed and it’s game over, 4, if the shepherd or riddle solver are left with their monsters for three turns they will be consumed by anxiety and it’s game over, 5, the boat needs two people to row it they can be human, monster or both, but the river is too powerful for only one to move the boat”

·       Tapping the screen he was greeted to a picture on a person on each side of a river, one of them with a black creatures beside them as well as a boat, and island in the middle of the river. There were also buttons at the top labeled “rules and “hints” and such. The style seemed to be like a picture book. After some tapping around he learned the controls and intrigued by whatever this exactly was he played along. Eventually he found a way for them to meet, but it took much trial and error, and was certainly not helped by the fact he refused to check the hints. In the end when he did beat it he was instructed to leave the tablet in between specific books in the library.

·       The next day on his desk he found that tablet again, this time with a new game in it and once beaten, instructed him to hide it in the library once more. Over and over this went on.

·       Once more he had solved the mystery of the new game, however he found the library was about to close. Not wanting to have to wait another day for another fun game he and his devas raced for the library. Though everyone was being ushered out Gundham charged through, bolting straight for the appointed section, the crossroads between mathematics and history. There he spotted you, pulling out a book then looking in between books, sliding them over, a tablet exactly like the one Gundham held in hand tucked under your arm. “… Excuse me-” A high pitched squeak sound escaped you as you flipped around, looking to the Dark Overlord, dropping your tablet in the process. “A-ah, oh, uh, h-hi- uh ummm, hamster squeaking, lost, find the-” Then you ran, leaving behind your tablet. Turning it on Gundham found the new mystery had to do with a woman dying and her sister getting her pet hamsters but the person who was to deliver the hamsters to her lost them in a pet store, and though the sister never saw the hamsters before, she could recognize them by their squeaks always hearing them in the background of her video calls with her sister, and the mystery was to figure out which hamsters made which squeaks in the giant group of them.

·       “Hmm, so the hiding soul speaks riddles…”

·       After the encounter Gundham did research on you, he didn’t know your name or talent, but since Hope’s Peak attendees were always a hot topic on the internet he was sure he could find something on you and that he did, Y/N the Super High School Level Enigmatologist.

·       “Hint.” “AH! Oh, uh, huh?” Before you could panic you were consumed in confusion seeing the dark brooding man before you, holding your latest puzzle before you. It was on the hint page, strange since he had never used the hints before. “Your words fall on deaf ears. Extract the meaning of this!” “… uh… n-new hint? Okay.” And so you began mumbling to yourself about the puzzle, while trying to not give away the answer till you came up with a new hint. Then after Gundham had solve it and was given a new puzzle to solve, he insisted that you give him a new hint again, then again with the next puzzle. Every time there after he came to you, asking for a new hint.

·       Gundham was rather intrigued by you, who found comfort in puzzle solving, getting lost in finding solutions to strange problems. He was willing to help meet you half way across the river, secluded on an island with you, away from the monsters that consumed you anywhere else, he wanted to get to know you without them in the way.

·       He rather liked so much about you, how passionate you were about your craft, going on rants about it for hours, your willingness and even enthusiasm to learn about his passions, how despite your anxieties you always tried your damnest to become a better person and push through them, how you never were confused by his words, always understanding him, how that even extended to his body language and understanding his boundaries on touch.

·       You were a rather logical sort even if your emotions of fears tended to get the best of you. It was only natural since you always were working on puzzles. Even emotions to an extent were logical to you. You saw everything, even yourself as a puzzle to be solved, and so often times the solution to aches and pains was affection. Usually you’d ask Gundham what he thought of you, knowing you’d only receive honesty which was mostly praise. Eventually after a long time you would get to hold hands or hug.

·       It was a rather lazy, sleepy day, it was just so peaceful, before Gundham knew it the day had already passed and it was past dinner time. “Hmm? Y/N?” Usually you’d have come to see him by dinner, but it seemed you never showed up. Did something happen? Sitting up from his desk he found his devas before him. “Ah, so you know where my mate hides?” He slowly got up following him companions.

·       “… the closet?” They simply sniffed at the door, and cautiously he opened it. “Ah!” You sat on the floor, curled up in a ball, cowering in the corner silently. It… had been a very long time since Gundham had last seen you in such a state, it had taken him aback for a moment and there he stood, his mind blank. “G-gundham… affection ple-please.” Your voice cracked and wavered, your breathing ragged. And hearing it almost brought tears to the Ice Lord’s eyes. Did… did you have a panic attack, and he never noticed? Why else would you sound so wreaked?

·       He slinked into the closet, closing the door behind himself before sitting beside you. Taking a deep breath, he took one of your hands into both of his own, squeezing it tightly. “Of course my Emperor, one who unravels the world, who reveals the truth behind veils of deceit. How could I not? You who takes my heart each and every moment, you who I cherish so dearly, you who is so cunning, what possible words could I have other than praise and love?” He felt how tight you squeezed his hand, how you trembled. He was not sure this would be enough this time, he had failed to be by our side when you needed it most.

·       “… My Emperor. Would you be so kind as to unravel my next words?” “… a riddle?” “Yes. Would you solve my riddle?” “o-okay.” “I… I, uh…” Preferably Gundham wanted to come up with a good riddle, one that you would have to think on for a long time, but he doubted he could come up with one. You had asked for affection so maybe… “I am… I am one action that can only ever be shared by two at a time. I am a way to show love. I am… uh… I am-” “A hug?” “…” Slowly Gundham wrapped his arms around you. “I am… something Gundham has never shared with you before.” “Huh? Something……… a kiss?”

·       Damn it. Gundham thought the darkness would make this easier but it only made him more anxious. Placing his hands on your shoulders, he clutched them in a tight grip. Okay! He could do this! He could hug you, and this was less contact than a hug, so he could do this!

·       “of course… someone as brilliant as you could solve my twisted words.” Leaning into you, he felt as if his heart were trembling. Even in darkness he closed his eyes. He tenderly pressed his lips to your forehead for a few moments before somehow managing to loosen the grip on our shoulders, though his fingers were still tense. Slowly he traced them up your neck as he pressed his lips on the bridge of your nose. Finally his hands stopped, cradling your head in them, allowing him to easily kiss your cheeks.

·       “P-perhaps… we can… prepare a meal for ourselves and by the time we’re finished I’ll have come up with an even more confounding riddle for you.”

[clandonnachaidh]

Light Across The Seas That Severed (Ch3)

AO3

Even after years of friendship, of seeing each other through some of the best and some of the hardest times of their lives, Jamie Fraser would still need to catch his breath at the sight of Claire Beauchamp when she really laughed. With her head thrown back, her whisky eyes would screw shut and she would run her long fingers into her beautiful hair in comedic exasperation.

If watching her laugh was a sight to behold, making her laugh was the best thing in the world.

They were sat across from each other surrounded by a pungent cloud of smoke, both of them situated on plush sofas of green leather that was cracked and worn from use. With each passing minute, Jamie felt like the sofa was beginning to swallow him. He made the mistake of voicing his concern to Claire.

She thought the whole thing was hilarious, obviously, and told him so before taking a bite out of the space cake that she had cut down the middle to share.

“Edibles are stronger, you’ll only need half anyway,” she had said in her matter of fact way that she had, taking charge of the situation from the minute they’d stepped foot in the coffee shop.

Jamie Fraser, being the good catholic boy that he was, had never been inside such a place and he certainly hadn’t experienced anything like the Red Light District that they had just walked through. Of course he had heard of Amsterdam’s relaxed laws when it came to sex work and drugs but seeing it first hand was something entirely different. When he caught sight of the first woman in the window, her long blonde hair tumbling around her bare shoulders, he felt the blush rise to the very tips of his ears as Claire just laughed and dragged him by the hand, deeper into the belly of the beast.

The plan had been for them to spend two days in the city before they said goodbye. Claire was following her heart (which took the shape of one Frank Randall, the same bastard who’d stood her up the night that Jamie and Claire had kissed for the first and only time) to Boston where she’d managed to get a placement in a surgical programme while Frank would teach at Harvard. It had taken everything in Jamie not to break when she told him, the smile that she had plastered on her face not quite reaching her eyes as she surveyed his reaction over her coffee cup. He had swallowed the rising panic in his throat and felt as it soured in his stomach but he managed to calm himself long enough to take a deep breath and tell her the truth — that he was proud of her and he would miss her. He would miss her so much.

Jamie knew that she was lying about not being able to book a more straightforward trip from London to Boston and he strongly suspected that she had orchestrated the two day layover in Amsterdam for the sole purpose of asking if he’d like to join her, a mini break that they both sorely needed after an arduous final year at university. He hadn’t even needed to think about it before he agreed and in the week leading up to it, he had struggled to think of anything but watching her as she wandered around the Rijksmuseum, oblivious to the art hanging on the walls when he had his own masterpiece right in front of him.

“I canna believe I’m in such a place wi’ ye, Sassenach, and for breakfast no less,” he said, hearing a laugh that didn’t sound quite like his own. Frowning at himself, he looked across at her as she chuckled kindly at him, her index finger dabbing a crumb from the corner of her mouth before popping it between her lips. The lips that he had tasted just once years ago in what had been agreed as a funny drunken lapse of judgment in a grubby old pub on the edge of their college campus.

“You just need to relax and you’ll enjoy it, I promise,” she said. It had been her idea to get high first thing in the morning and then spend the remainder of their final day together strolling around the museums and parks of the city, allowing themselves to get into the spirit of the place and cut loose for once.

He watched her waggling her eyebrows suggestively, looking to him like furry brown worms, “You seemed to enjoy the ladies outside well enough.”

He went bright red and tried to sit up straighter amongst the sofa cushions that were trying their best to swallow him, “Dinna be daft, ye ken I wouldnae pay a woman to do that sort of thing.”

“A lot of people pay for sex, Jamie, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Two consenting adults and all that.”

He had always known that Claire was a very liberal thinker and she spent a lot of time and energy educating herself on things to broaden her perspective of the world. Jamie admired her for it even if he did enjoy poking fun at her sometimes, just to watch the spark catch fire in her eyes as she told him precisely why he was wrong.

“Aye well, that’s all fine an’ weel but I winna be dealing wi’ it myself, thank ye.”

“Oh, live a little, Fraser. How long has it been since Annalise? Seven months?” She asked him directly as he made a very Scottish noise in the back of his throat in an attempt to dismiss the conversation about his ex-girlfriend.

“I’ll thank ye to leave her out of our weekend,” he warned her jokingly, delighting in the corner of her mouth quirking upwards in amusement. Before he knew it, the words were tumbling out of his mouth, “Besides, Lise and I, we never…”

He watched as Claire’s eyes almost burst from her skull as she leaned forward, her beautiful mouth gaping at his revelation. Why the hell had he told her that? They never spoke about the personal details of their respective relationships, it was the unspoken rule between them. Don’t ask, don’t tell. Jamie could think of nothing worse than sitting and listening to Claire regale him of her sexual exploits with the uptight historian. It also meant that Claire didn’t know exactly how much sex Jamie wasn’t having.

“Never?! You were together for a year!” The amazement in her voice was evident and Jamie flopped backwards in the sofa, raising his hands to his face. He cursed the effects of the marijuana that had relaxed him to the point where he was divulging information that he would usually keep behind his teeth.

“Never, okay?”

“Wow… okay… not sure what to do with that but okay,” she mirrored his body language, collapsing back onto her sofa and tucking her legs up underneath her. “So you’ve not had sex in what, just shy of two years? Good God, you must have the patience of a saint.”

“Something like that,” he mumbled into his palms, refusing to remove them for the fear of her gaze seeing the truth that he was trying desperately to keep hidden but that was on the tip of his very stoned tongue.

“Longer than two years?” He heard her whisper in disbelief.

“Try 24.”

They sat in silence for a few seconds before it became too much, he had to look at her to gauge her reaction to his honesty. He had expected her to laugh or to yell in surprise but he realised that she mostly just looked curious, like she was trying to figure out the answer to the puzzle that was sat opposite her.

“You’re a virgin?” He nodded in response and watched as her shoulders dropped slightly, smiling kindly at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because we dinna talk about things like this,” he sighed. He could see all the questions that were threatening to slip past her lips.

“Have you not wanted to? Because that’s okay, maybe you’re just not into the thought of-“

“Christ, no! No, I’m definitely into the thought of it,” he laughed. “From the age of thirteen to seventeen, I barely thought of anything else. Besides, I said I was a virgin, no’ a monk. I’ve done stuff.”

She laughed at that, “So why not? I’m sorry, you absolutely do not have to tell me but I- just… how? Why?”

“Was just waitin’ on the right woman,” he shrugged in an attempt to appear nonchalant about the whole thing. Whether she was buying it or not, he couldn’t tell but he was certain that if she listened hard enough, she could hear his heart beating out a rhythm in time with the syllables of her name.

Because that was the real truth, wasn’t it? That he had been waiting for her.

She didn’t say anything in response, just leaned to cut the remaining space cake in half again, offering the larger half to Jamie that he almost snatched from her, anything to distance himself from the conversation that they were having.

He was grateful when she left it at that, being able to intuit that he wasn’t comfortable with the line of questioning. That night, when the effects of their morning had worn off, they rented bikes and attempted to navigate the city like the locals did, getting horribly lost and ending up drinking a beer by the canal as the sun went down. Jamie watched as the rays painted her pale skin gold and the wind caught the folds of her sundress, settling the material delicately against her bonnie wee shins. It had been the perfect day and Jamie didn’t want it to end. But he knew that it had to.

In the morning, she was getting on a plane.

“Shall we head back, d’ye think? It’s been a long day,” he said quietly, pulling her out of the daydream that she was sat in. She turned to face him with a dreamy smile on her face as she nudged his shoulder with her head.

“The best day,” she said simply. “Let’s go.”

They walked the short distance back to their hotel in silence, neither of them needing to fill it with words as they just existed in each other’s company. When they got to their hotel room, he made light work of pulling off his hoodie and collapsed onto his twin bed with the remote in his hand as she shut herself in the bathroom, the lock gently clicking behind her. Jamie ran a hand over his tired face and tried to concentrate on the tv. He had an ear for languages, being the proud new owner of a First in Modern Languages and Linguistics from Oxford, but the rules of Dutch seemed to be far removed from that of the French and German, and a little Italian, that naturally clicked together in his brain.

He strained to listen in an attempt to isolate some of the sounds, let his mind create patterns and try to fill in the gaps but he was tired and gave up quickly, punching the pillow that was under his head to prop up his neck a little further so that he could look out of the window. He heard the bathroom door unlock.

That was when he saw her. Really saw her for the first time. And it wasn’t because he could see more of her skin than he had ever seen before but because of the look that was painted on her face. Her beautiful face radiating a vulnerability and softness that he had never seen the depths of before, never as unguarded as she was in that moment. She smiled shyly at him and her hand came to cover her bare stomach slightly. Panic clutched at Jamie’s chest as he watched her wall build itself back up.

He was on his feet before he even knew it, pulling her hand back down to her side and lacing their fingers together.

It was always easier if they touched.

“What are ye doin’, Claire?” He tried to keep his voice soft, to not let the need he was feeling flow out in every word. She blushed and ducked her head, as though looking him in the eye would break the spell.

“I just thought…” she trailed off before defiantly bringing her head up and fixing him with a stare. “I can’t stand the idea of you having your first time with someone who doesn’t appreciate you.”

She had sounded strong and sure but Jamie’s head was birling. He took a step closer to her, so close that he could feel her breath on his chest and looked down at her body, barely an inch of space between them. The swell of her breasts were contained by a lace bra, a lilac so soft that it made her pale skin look like ivory against it. She was wearing matching underwear, just a scrap of material really, and his cock twitched at the thought of what she must look like from behind. The amazing arse of his best friend that he had shamefully lusted after for so long.

He raised the hand that wasn’t tangled with hers to hover over her heart, not quite touching the skin but watching as the goosebumps appeared anyway. She let out a shaky breath through perfectly pursed lips and he knew then what she was doing, the gift that she was giving him. Because she knew or at the very least suspected how he felt about her. She’d have to be blind not to see it.

She was saying goodbye.

“Claire… lass, we dinna have to do this. You dinna have to do this for me,” he whispered but he barely managed to get the words out before she popped up on her toes and closed the gap between them.

For a moment, they stood still. Neither of them moved a muscle for fear of breaking whatever magic had been cast over them. But then his mouth moved instinctively, applying pressure to her lips in an attempt to open them so his tongue could reacquaint itself with hers, so many years since they first kissed. He heard her, felt her, sigh softly and that was all the proof that he needed to wrap his arms around her and pin her to his chest, his mouth greedily seeking hers. Her hands found his face and thinking that she meant to push him away, he immediately let her go and took a step back from her, breath bursting from his lungs.

“I’m so sorry, lass, I didnae mean to get carried away-“

“Jamie, stop. You’re overthinking this,” she interrupted him by pressing her body back to his and put a steady hand on his cheek, his face leaning in to press a kiss to her open palm. The reality of the situation filled him. When the sun came up the next day, she would pack her things and they would travel to the airport to say goodbye. His chest tightened and he exhaled heavily, trying to take a steadying breath but it shattered in his throat and he tried to suck another in. Noticing that he was beginning to panic, Claire urged him to look at her. “It’s just me, Jamie, it’s us. Do you want this? Do you want me?”

“Oh God, yes.”

Their mouths snapped back together and all was right with the world. He couldn’t stop touching her, desperate to elicit sounds from her that she had kept hidden from him for so many years, ones that he thought he’d never have the privilege of hearing. An errant thought passed through his head, that maybe he should feel nervous about his first time, about not satisfying her, but the way that she was reacting to his kiss put his mind at ease. He would take everything in, commit everything to memory and be attentive to what she seemed to like and not like. She was terrible at lying, his Sassenach, and he was secure in the knowledge that he already knew her better than anyone else on this earth.

He was pulled from his thoughts at the feeling of her hands on his zipper and he groaned into their kiss as her hand brushed against his painfully hard cock through the thick material of his jeans. Everything was happening too fast and at the same time, not fast enough. He wished to be utterly consumed by her, to share something that neither of them would ever be able to take back. Something that he knew he would carry with him until the day he died.

Claire’s skilled fingers divested him of his jeans and he refused to break their kiss as he wriggled out of them, swallowing her giggles when she realised what he was up to. He ran his hands from her hips up the soft planes of her body, feeling her delicate ribs under her skin and brushing around the lace of her bra to where it joined in the back. Whether it was intuition or he fact that he practically ripped the clasp apart in blind need, he had no idea, but his fingers fumbled less than he had anticipated.

“I want to see you too,” she whispered against his lips, pulling his t-shirt over his head in one quick movement before she fixed him with a stare, licked her tongue down the palm of her hand as Jamie’s eyes widened in disbelief before her hand disappeared into the waistband of his boxers.

“Christ,” he shuddered, screwing his eyes shut in an attempt to contain the feel of her warm, wet hand on his cock. Her grip was firm on him as his jaw hung open and she greedily claimed his mouth once more as she quickened the pace.

When her mouth disappeared from his, Jamie opened his eyes in confusion to see that she’d dropped to her knees in front of him, her index fingers taking the fabric of his boxers on the same descent. The sight alone nearly undid him but it was nothing compared to the heat that enveloped him as she took him inside her mouth. Fingers immediately threaded through her hair, he squeezed his eyes shut with a gasp as she took him as far back as she could, which was no small task given the size of him. His mind betrayed him with a memory of Annalise trying her hardest but he was never truly convinced that she had wanted to do it, suspecting that she felt like it was an obligation which meant that Jamie could never really enjoy the act. As though she knew that his mind had wandered, Claire’s fingers gripped him tightly as her mouth kept a steady rhythm and his hips jerked forwards instinctively. An attempt at a stuttered apology was on the tip of his tongue but she beat him to it, moaning around him and sending delicious vibrations down his length. Knees buckling slightly at the sensation, Claire’s whisky eyes peered up at him, her lips plump and wet and with a hollowing of her cheeks and a hard suck, she sent him crashing over the edge, moaning her name as he did.

As the stars that had burst into his vision began to fade, he fought to get his breath back, feeling the brush of her body as she got up from her knees.

“Did that feel good?” She whispered as he nodded furiously, bumping their noses together in his enthusiasm. She laughed quietly and went back to kissing him, the feeling of her smile on his lips.

“It was amazing,” he told her. “Thank you.”

She laughed at his earnest gratitude, “I know how you can make it up to me.”

Taking his hand and leading the both of them towards her bed, Claire didn’t allow for too much space to come between their bodies as she lay back and pulled him down with her. Jamie’s mind raced as the sight. How many times had he imagined this? And how pitiful his imagination had been when conjuring it, missing the exquisite details like the way her her skin trembled at his touch and the softness of the sole her foot trailing up the back of his calf as he lay on top of her.

He knew that he was the luckiest man alive as he kissed down her body and a found a freckle on the inside of her thigh. To know the secret parts of her, to have her share them with him when she kept everyone else at arm’s length. How could he not be in love with her?

“Touch me, Jamie.”

He knew that those were the words that would wake him in a sweat for the years to come as he revisited this moment in his dreams. Hearing them fall from her throat was a blessing and he wasn’t one to squander such an invitation. He was trying to be gentle with her so as to not scare her off but in that moment, his trembling fingers became sure and shredded through the thin lace of her underwear, ripping them from her body with a deep growl that he didn’t know he was capable of producing. He felt her body melt into the mattress as his middle finger found her wet centre, her legs quivering in response.

“Oh, my Claire… how beautiful you feel,” he whispered as she moaned loudly, pushing her hips towards him in an attempt to receive more attention. His warm hand left her and closed around her hipbone as he kept her at a distance, blue eyes blazing into whisky ones with so much love that it made her mouth water. Not breaking eye contact, his fingers flexed around her hip, holding her in place as he brought his mouth to her core.

Claire threw her head back against the pillow, mouth agape.

“What the fuck,” she gasped. He had told her that he wasn’t entirely green behind the ears but it was nice to hear the shock in her voice as he set his tongue to work. Within minutes Claire’s body was writhing, one hand fisted in the bedsheets like she was holding on for dear life. It still wasn’t enough and so he shifted his arms underneath her, running them up the length of her back and pulling her closer into his mouth. She squeaked with surprise as she settled her weight onto her shoulders, trusting that Jamie’s strength would hold her steady as he relentlessly licked and nipped at her.

“Jamie, I’m-“

Claire was unable to finish as her words were replaced by a loud moan, Jamie’s growl indicating that he was not willing to let her go without knowing what it felt like for her lose herself on his tongue.

Fingers gripping his curls, Claire pulled slightly and he felt her entire body go rigid as she tried to control the feelings that were coursing through her body. Jamie slid two fingers into her and lightly flicked his tongue against her, holding her steady as she began to convulse in his arms. He was fascinated to learn that she didn’t make a sound, only screwed her eyes shut and let her mouth hang open as she rolled her hips against him, riding out her orgasm.

When he felt her shy away from his tongue, he gave her a final kiss and moved up towards her, delighting in the way that she curled her hand around the back of his neck and brought his mouth down to hers, tasting herself on his lips.

“Not a monk indeed,” she laughed breathily as she ran her fingers through her hair, her eyes shutting slightly as the aftershocks ran through her.

“I’m a man of many talents, if I do say so myself.”

“I wonder what else you’re good at,” she raised a single eyebrow above a pair of seductive eyes and Jamie took the opportunity to press his renewed erection against her thigh.

“Only one way to find out, I suppose.”

Her hands sought out his body again, as though they were always meant to be touching and she moaned a little when she felt that he was hard so soon after his orgasm.

“We can stop here, Jamie. This is your choice. Whatever you want.”

“I want ye so much, I can scarcely breathe. Will ye have me?”

“Yes,” she sighed deliriously, “Yes, I’ll have you.”

“Come here to me, Jamie,” she whispered as she took him in hand and lead him to her opening. He steeled himself, taking a deep breath and basking in the look of wonder on her face, soon replaced by a quiet, exquisite joy as he pushed himself home for the first time.

She was like velvet. Impossibly soft and hot, wet with her need and it was all he could manage not to immediately race to his finish, to take her with a force and a desperation that he knew was painted on his features. With the strength of an army, he stilled himself and raised his face to hers, nearly coming undone when their eyes met.

Claire had never looked at him like that. Her cheeks were flushed from her pleasure, her pupils blown wide and stunned. His soul was laid open to her and hers to him. And he knew that his face showed the unfathomable depth of his love for her, incapable of hiding it when they were joined like this.

Jamie could have stayed that way forever but his physiology had other ideas, his hips responsively snapping into hers. She moaned and tilted her hips to meet him, raising a knee upwards to cradle his side and deepen the angle of him inside of her. Jamie was completely unaware that something could feel this good and he lowered his head to capture her lips as he began to rock his hips against hers.

All worries that he may have had left him when he watched the way she responded to his body, her fingertips digging into the muscles of his biceps until he was sure that they would bruise. She was panting and moaning beneath him, making tiny movements with her body that produced huge waves of sensation in his. He was so distracted by his own pleasure that the first time she clenched lightly around him, he wasn’t even sure that it had happened. Looking down at her, he mimicked the movement with his hips and earned himself another wonderful contraction coupled with an urgent moan that ripped from her chest.

He slowed his pace, not wanting to be undone before she reached her peak and moved his fingers to her mouth which she accepted greedily. Screwing his eyes shut at the sensation, he trailed his hand down her body to the place where they joined and lightly found the bundle of nerves at the top of her sex. She convulsed, eyes snapping open in pleasure and he wished for the hundredth time that he could drown in them.

As his fingers began to stroke her, he watched as her body changed from pliant and soft to frantic and needy. Her hands moved to his arse and pulled him into her, keening at the feeling of his cock coupled by the pleasure that he was seeking in her from his fingers.

“You’re going to make me come, Jamie,” she sobbed in surprise and he doubled down his efforts to find it for her, to let her chase her pleasure before he gave in to his own. What a gift to be able to feel the way her body reacted to his, to know how it felt when she came close to her orgasm. Her tight muscles fluttered around him as he watched the flat plane of her stomach clench in an attempt to control the pleasure that was crashing through her body. It was all too much.

“Give me your mouth, Sassenach,” he gasped as he sealed his mouth to hers, their tongues hungrily seeking the other. It was the moment of combustion when they finally met and her body convulsed once more before she began to shake uncontrollably, noises coming from her that he never thought he’d hear. It was everything he needed in that moment as he began to pour himself into her, unable to stop the frantic jerk his hips as he experienced a blinding white pleasure that he’d never felt before.

Only just managing to shift his body so that he didn’t collapse his entire weight onto her, Jamie rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling as he waited for his heart rate to slow. He was hyper aware of Claire’s body beside him, of the rise and fall of her chest as she descended from waves of pleasure that he had elicited in her. He’d expected for his mind to be running a hundred miles a minute but all he felt was serenity. In that moment, the world was exactly as it should be.

“Christ,” Jamie huffed, unable to stop the air bursting from his lungs. The question fell out of him before he had a chance to stop it. “Is it always like that?”

He didn’t look at her, couldn’t force his eyes to look at her face in case he didn’t like what he saw. But his eyes began to drift closed at the feeling of Claire curling her naked body around his, bringing a bent leg to rest over his abdomen and her hair splaying on his chest.

“No, it isn’t.”

[drabbles-mc]

Hear You Now

Angel Reyes x Reader

Warnings: angst, language, Angel being a very sad boy

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Why do I always make Angel sad?? Why do I always give him commitment issues?? I don’t know. I owe him a happy fic or two. 😂 If you’re curious, this is 110% inspired by the song Hear You Now by Old Dominion.

Angel Taglist: @mayans-sauce @helli4nthus @angelreyesgirl @starrynite7114 @queenbeered @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @appropriate-writers-name @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @multiyfandomgirl40 @sillygoose6969 @beardburnsupersoldiers​ @louisianalady​ @gemini0410​ @paintballkid711​

You were walking through Merchant Square, hand-in-hand with your fiancé. You laughed as you leaned your head against his shoulder for a moment as the two of you walked through town. It had been a long time since you had been back to Santo Padre, and you wanted him to see your hometown. He had asked on more than one occasion because he wanted to see where you grew up, but you hadn’t been ready to face the ghosts that you knew still haunted those streets. But now you were engaged, and you knew that there was not going to be any more running away from anything.

It was refreshing to walk through town, and your heart wasn’t as heavy as you thought it was going to be. Not too much had changed and you liked how there were so many aspects of the town that would always be frozen in time. You tugged him into a bookstore, and he followed you with a knowing smile—it was nearly impossible to ever get you to pass up the opportunity to find something new to dive into. Almost every wall in your house had a bookshelf built into it or pushed against it. Eventually you told him you were going to buy a whole separate house and make it your library.

You were perusing the aisles, dragging your fingertips along the spines of an endless sea of titles. Your fiancé was a couple rows away looking for a few books of his own. There was a comfort in the mild hustle and bustle of the little book store. The aisles were close together and it all felt so cozy.

You stumbled upon the hardcover edition of a book that you had loved for years, and your eyes lit up. You snatched it off the shelf and went to find your fiancé. You quickly walked up to him and nudged his shoulder, “Look what I found?”

He looked at the novel in your hands and a knowing smile crossed his face, “You definitely have that one already. I know I’ve seen it.”

“Yes, but look,” you shook the book in front of him, “Hard cover! I’ve never seen a hard cover edition anywhere! I need it,” you pleaded.

He laughed, “How am I ever supposed to say no to you?”

You kissed him quickly on the lips, “You’re not, that’s the whole point!” you laughed.

Angel’s ears burned from the opposite side of the store. He would know that laugh anywhere, even from a million miles away. He never thought that he’d hear it again. He turned and tried to look around the store for you, and his heart instantly sped up when he saw you standing in the checkout line with a book clutched tight to your chest.

He started to walk over to you, but as quickly as his heart sped up, it nearly stopped when he saw another man walk up behind you and wrap his arms around you and place a kiss to your temple. He saw the way you melted back into him with a smile, and his stomach turned into a knot. His grip on the book in his hand tightened and he couldn’t force his feet to move in one direction or another. He didn’t know if it was worse to have to take in the scene in front of him, or to have lived with never seeing you again.

After paying for your book, you turned to leave the store, and that was when you saw him standing there. Your heart sank inside your chest—it had been years but that was definitely the Angel Reyes that you had known and had loved. You wanted to walk out of the store and not open up that box of memories, but something impulsive inside of you burst through.

“Angel?” you said, causing your fiancé to look up from the book that he had bought and was skimming through.

It got Angel to finally force his feet to move, “Hey, Y/N,” he cleared his throat as he walked up to you, “It’s been a minute.”

“Yea,” you laughed nervously, “Oh, shit, where are my manners? Angel, this is Jordan, my fiancé. Jordan, this is Angel. We grew up together,” it was the understatement of the century but you weren’t going to air out that laundry in the middle of a book store.

You could see Angel’s heart break at the word fiancé, but Jordan didn’t seem to take any notice of it as he held out his hand, “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he shook Jordan’s hand and nodded, forcing a small smile, “You’re a lucky guy.”

Jordan laughed as he pulled you against his side, blissfully unaware of the tension that was beginning to build, “You’re telling me. Can’t believe that this one said yes.”

You chuckled and leaned your head against his side, trying to let the familiarity of his touch and scent comfort you in this situation. It half-worked, but your mind was still racing, trying to figure out what Angel was thinking as he stood there and watched you talk about a forever life that didn’t involve him.

“I had no idea you were back in town,” Angel looked at you, eyes soft as he tried to memorize every detail of the woman he hadn’t seen in so long.

“Yea,” you shrugged, “kind of flew in under the radar. I was gonna see if I could find you and your brother while I was here,” it was a lie, but it sounded nice.

Jordan gave you a light squeeze, “Do you want to catch up? Don’t let me stop you—I’m sure I can find something to do for a couple hours or so.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you shook your head, “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not just going to ditch you on our trip together,” you smiled up at him.

He pressed a light kiss on your lips, “It’s fine! You guys go grab coffee or something and catch up and I’ll find somewhere we can go to dinner.”

“You sure?” you wanted him to stay with you, but one of the things that you loved about being with him had always been that you were your own separate people just as much as you were a cohesive unit as a couple. It was just this particular situation that made you wish that that wasn’t the case, that made you wish that he was a little more possessive.

“Positive. I love you,” he kissed your forehead, “Give me a call when you’re done,” he reached and shook Angel’s hand again, “It was nice meeting you. Hopefully I’ll see you again before we leave town.”

Angel nodded, “Yea, for sure.”

Jordan walked out the door of the bookstore and there was a long stretch of silence between you and Angel as the two of you stood there. You wanted to step in and hug him, but you knew that you couldn’t. You eyed the novel in his hand, “You buying that?”

He had completely forgotten where he was and why he was there. He shook his head as he set it down on one of the small display tables, “Nah,” he cleared his throat, “So, I guess we’re getting coffee?”

You chuckled, not able to hide the awkwardness that you felt, “I guess we are.”

The two of you walked down the street in silence. You gripped your book, pressing it tight against your chest. There was a small café right down the street from the bookstore, another place that seemed to go untouched by time. Angel held the door open for you and told you to grab a table and he’d grab drinks for the both of you. You set your book down on the table, nervously tapping your fingertips on the cover as you waited for him to come back over.

He sat down across from you, handing you your drink. There were a few beats of silence and you desperately wished for the power to read minds so you could know what Angel was thinking that was making his eyes look so sad.

All Angel could think about was the fact that every day, for years, he thought about you and wondered where you had gone off to. He wondered if you were safe, if you were happy, if you had found someone else. He wondered if he was ever going to have a chance to see you again, to make things up to you, to win you back. He wasn’t expecting to get the answers to all of those questions within the first fifteen seconds of seeing you again. Reality had hit him like a freight train and he was still trying to recover.

“I see you’ve upgraded from Prospect,” you nodded towards the secretario patch on his kutte.

It snapped him out of his spiral for a moment and he managed a smile, “Little bit, yea. EZ’s sporting the Prospect patch these days.”

Your eyes widened, “Seriously?”

He nodded, “Yep. Patch-in vote is coming up in a couple months.”

“Holy shit,” you shook your head with a laugh, “How things change.”

“Yea,” he tried to push the words down but he couldn’t, “I’ve missed you.”

Your heart hurt at the sound of him saying that. The heartbroken girl that you used to be wanted to say something snarky, to rub a little salt in the wound that he had been carrying around with him. But you worked so hard not to be that girl anymore, and the better-healed part of you wanted to comfort him. You couldn’t meet his eyes, “It has been a while,” you traced your fingers around the edge of your cup, “hasn’t it?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he’d been sitting on those words for years and he couldn’t keep them in anymore, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You shook your head, “There’s nothing to be sorry about, Angel. We were kids—we were young and dumb.”

“I was young and dumb,” he corrected you, “I should’ve listened to you. Things could’ve been so different.”

You nodded, not having it in you to lie and say that he was wrong. Your mind was taken over by a tirade of memories, of arguments that ended with screaming and slamming doors, with you crying alone at the kitchen table trying to figure out how to force the puzzle pieces to fit. You had begged him for just a little more, just a little bit of commitment, and he could never give it to you. Eventually you had gotten fed up waiting for something that was never going to happen, and you left. It hurt, and you spent a lot of days crying as you packed up and bought a plane ticket, but you never looked back. You changed your number and completely detached yourself from the person that you had been.

“You always said I was gonna fuck around and hurt someone,” he pressed his lips into a thin line for a moment as he shook his head, “Just didn’t think it was gonna be me.”

“Thought it was just gonna be me?” it came out more bitter than you had intended, but there was no taking it back.

It caught him off-guard, “I…yea…I guess,” he stared at the engagement ring on your finger, “He is a lucky guy. Seems nice.”

You nod and a smile passes over your face for a moment, “He’s a good man. I never thought that I’d find someone as ready as I was for the whole settling down thing. I thought men weren’t ready for that until they were in their forties or whatever,” you chuckled, “I guess I just got really lucky.”

“So did he.”

“You seeing anyone these days?” you asked, genuinely curious to the answer.

He shook his head, “Nah, not really,” he laughed despite the aching in his chest, “But I’m guessing that’s not surprising to you.”

You smiled and sipped your coffee, “I dunno, people can change,” you waited for him to look you in the eyes, “You’ll find someone, Angel.”

“I already did,” it came out before he could think better of it. He reached across the table and set his hand on top of yours, “I should’ve been better, Y/N. I should’ve listened.”

“Maybe,” you nodded as you pulled your hand away and let it rest in your lap, “Maybe you should’ve. But it doesn’t really matter anymore, does it? Guess you’ll just have to listen a little better to the next girl.”

“If you hadn’t laughed in the middle of that bookstore, I might’ve never known you were here,” his eyes were getting glassy with tears, “But I’ve heard that laugh inside my head so many times for so many years. I thought I was going insane. But then it was really you.”

“Angel, please, don’t do—”

“Please, just let me get this out,” he waited for you and once you nodded for him to continue, he did, “I spent so much time thinking that you wanted me to be a different person, and I was so angry about it. It felt like you didn’t want me to be who I was. It wasn’t…it wasn’t until you left that I realized that all you wanted was more of me. It was never about me changing, not really. It was just about me getting my head outta my ass. I spent so much time fuckin’ around and wanting to be free that I completely missed the fact that that freedom had nothing to do with you leaving. I hate that I never really heard what you were trying to say until after you left.”

You were fighting back tears, “Maybe there was just a little too much noise with me around.”

“You told me that one day I’d be sorry,” he couldn’t peel his eyes away from your ring, “And fuck are you never wrong.”

You laughed humorlessly as you blinked back tears, “I never wanted to be right, Angel. I just wanted to be happy, to be yours. But it just…wasn’t right I guess.”

“What you have now,” he stared down into his coffee cup, “that’s right?”

You slid your fingers along the band of your ring, and nodded, “Yea, it is.”

Those three words felt like a punch to the gut. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever recover from it.

“I don’t think you should keep beating yourself up over what happened, Angel,” you looked at him, “I think we’re different people now.”

“Are we?”

You chuckled, “Maybe not. Maybe that’s all the more reason not to worry about what happened. There’s no way to make it turn out any differently.”

There were a few beats of silence before Angel took a deep breath and managed a smile, “Damn. This is not what your fiancé thought he was signing you on for, huh?”

You laughed, and for a moment you caught a glimpse of the Angel that used to drive you around on the back of his motorcycle in the middle of the night. The same Angel who could get you to laugh when you showed up at his place in tears. You missed that, but you knew that going back wasn’t going to do anyone any good.

“Poor son of a bitch,” you laughed, “One day he’ll learn,” you paused for a moment, “I know it’s hard, Angel, but I am glad I got to see you.”

“Me too,” it sounded a little insincere, but you knew it was the heartbreak making it sound that way.

“Keep taking care of yourself, alright?”

Angel’s heart sank, knowing that this was the start of another goodbye that would last a very long time, “You too.”

You reached and put your hand over his, your finger tracing lightly over his knuckles, “I’ll see you around, Reyes.”

“Yea?”

You smiled, “Well, maybe.”

[fangirlovestuff]

Family - Frank Adler x reader

a/n- Hey lovely people! this is my second entry for the shameless hoes for chris challenge, so i’d like to say a very happy birthday (and belated birthday) to the lovely @stargazingfangirl18​ & @navybrat817​ who are hosting this challenge! thank you for sharing your kindness, talent, and shameless hoe thoughts with us through this challenge and every day, i hope you both had great days! here’s this Frank one shot as a gift! also, disclamer: i know nothing about boats. thoughts are in italics, prompt is in bold. Enjoy! <3

Summary: You move into a new town in search of a new job, and you meet a very handsome man and his cute niece. Or more accurately, their cat finds you.

Word count: ~3,550

Prompts:  Oops I caught feelings for you and I got ‘em baddd. &  “Oh god, did I say that out loud?”

Warnings: SMUT, explicit sexual content, explicit language. please do not read if you are uncomfortable with any of the above!

You opened the curtains of the small window, squinting a little as the morning sun hit your sleep-deprived eyes. It was the first night you spent in your new little house by the docks, and you'd always had a bit of a hard time sleeping in new places. 

You sighed and rubbed your eyes, getting the coffee started. You had another week until you had to work, giving you enough time to get to know your new surroundings and fix your sleep schedule before you took over at the local library. The pay wasn't too high but you needed a job while you were working on your novel, and what better than being surrounded by books?

You moved here to clear your head a little, feeling a change of scenery might be what you needed to write your story. What your parents and relatives referred to as your "little passion project" was in fact something you were willing to work hard to achieve. Being a published author was your goal, not a mere daydream. 

You sipped the warm coffee from your mug, looking out of the window at the quiet neighborhood. You startled at the sight of an orange cat appearing, out of nowhere, chased by a little girl who seemed to be around ten or eleven years old. You chuckled into your mug before seeing the girl stumble and fall. You put down your mug to rush to her aid, but before you could leave your doorstep, a man was already kneeling next to her. Maybe her dad, even though he seemed a little young for that.

You turned in search of the elusive cat, and found him in some bushes, licking his paws. You got closer and realized the ginger cat only had one eye. You cooed at the cat, beckoning him over, and to your surprise he listened, coming out of the bushes. You pet him a little and he willingly purred at your touch. You smiled before hesitantly reaching to lift him and hold him in your arms. From your acquaintance with cats, you expected him to thrash, scratch, or try to escape, especially from the hands of a stranger, but to your surprise he stayed put, letting you carry it over to the little girl and her dad, who were still kneeling on the grass.

The girl's eyes lit up when she saw you come closer, the cat still in your arms. "Fred!" she yelled and the cat finally showed signs of wanting to get away from you. You put him down and waved at them, coming closer and sitting down beside them, to be at eye level.

"Hey," you said and introduced yourself. "I couldn't help but notice this little guy trying to hide in the bushes. He's your cat, right?" you asked the little girl and she nodded, embracing him further. "Well, you've got a very well-behaved cat," you smiled at her, "he didn't put up a fight when I lifted him up, which is remarkable." Then you remembered a little girl of ten might not know what remarkable means, and opened your mouth to explain. 

"Yeah, Fred is very remarkable," she spoke before you could. You closed your mouth. All the while the man just sat there, seemingly evaluating you with his piercing blue eyes. From anyone else, you'd probably find the gaze daunting or uncomfortable, but from him, it sent a pleasant warmth through your body. 

"I'm Mary," she spoke once more, reaching her hands out to you. You took it and shook it, smiling at her. 

The man finally spoke up, "I'm Frank," he said in a deep voice, "nice to meet you. When did you move in? I haven't really seen you around."

"Actually, just yesterday," you smiled warmly at him. "This neighborhood seems lovely," you added.

"It is," he smiles. His smile is soft, lighting up his rugged features with evident kindness. You dismissed his previous hostility as a bad morning.

"C'mon Mary, we gotta get you ready for school," Frank got up and Mary took his hand and got up as well, waving at you as she and Frank marched back to their house, Fred trailing behind them. 

You smiled seeing Mary skipping next to Frank, holding his hand still. They made a very pretty, wholesome family. You wondered who the mom was.

A couple of days later you woke up to a weird scratching sound. You located the source of the noise was from the door, frowning before opening it. You were met with the sight of Fred, who immediately entered and rubbed his head on your leg. 

"Feeling at home, huh?" you smiled and scratched behind his ears. "Come on, let's get you back home," you got out of the door just when Frank came into sight.

"Good morning!" you called out as he got closer. 

"Morning!" he replied, lightly making his way to you. You noticed the way his white shirt stretched over his muscles and gulped. 

"Come on bud," he said as he lifted Fred up. "I'm sorry about him," he said. "I have no idea what's gotten into him," he smiled. You noted it seemed like he was in a better mood this morning. 

"It's fine," you replied, "he's a great alarm clock," you chuckled. 

"Oh god, he woke you up?" he scoffed at Fred. "Well, if you want to there's some coffee at our place, as a sorry for this little menace," he pet Fred a little.

"I'd love too, but I should probably get dressed," you gestured at your pajamas. 

"Yeah," Frank diverted his gaze, "Fred and I can wait," he said apologetically.

"Thanks," you said. 

You were back out within a few minutes, dressed and ready for the day. You walked beside Frank, making a bit of small talk about the neighborhood.

Once you reached the house you came in with Frank to find Mary eating breakfast in the company of a woman you haven't seen before.

"Thanks for watching her, Roberta. She couldn't be late today too," Frank said to the woman, Roberta apparently, and then to Mary, "Mary, we can't go chasing after Fred every time he decides to disappear."

"He was at my house," you intervened, "just coming to visit. He seems independent, you shouldn't worry if he goes on trips every once in a while. I promise if he comes to visit again, I'll get him back to you, okay?" you smiled.

Mary was quiet for a moment, as if considering what you just said, and then nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right. And thanks for bringing him back. You too Frank," she smiled and continued to eat her cereal. You fought the puzzled expression that was threatening to rise on your face. Why would she call her dad Frank?

"The bus will be here soon, honey," Roberta told Mary, "better hurry."

Mary jumped up, took her bag, and grabbed onto Frank's hand. 

"Be right back," he said and started walking away with Mary. 

You felt Roberta's gaze immediately on you, as if observing you. You turned to her. "So, you new here?" she asked.

"Yeah, just moved in," you replied. "I bet you know everyone far better than I do," you smiled. You didn't know her relationship with Frank and Mary, but you were too embarrassed to ask. 

Roberta seemed to have picked up on it though, because the next thing she said was "When Frank moved in here, he didn't even have Mary. I live in a house across the street. I've always been friends with Frank, but when he needed to take care of his niece, I knew he needed a serious ass-kicking so he'd do it right," she chuckled. "but I think between the two of us, Mary came out great," she smiled fondly. 

"She seems wonderful," you agreed, thankful for her silent understanding of your cluelessness about the situation. 

Frank came back inside, closing the door behind him. "Thanks again for watching her Roberta," he said, "I'm sure you two got acquainted already," he added while pouring you a cup of coffee. 

You accepted the coffee gratefully, blowing on it slightly before taking a sip. Roberta was leaving to go about her day, so only you and Frank were left. You took in the house, and while it was a little messy, it radiated the happiness of a home. 

"So," Frank started, "I assume you've wondered about Mary… I'm her uncle, but her parents are gone." 

"It's okay," you hurriedly said, "Roberta explained a little, I get it."

"Of course she did," he chuckled. "Well then, tell me about yourself," he said.

And you did. You told him about your new job and your aspiration to become an author, even a bit about your family back home. He was easy to talk to, and in return told you more about Mary, that she was gifted, about life in the neighborhood. Before you noticed it, a few hours passed by. 

"Oh, look at the time! I'm so sorry, you probably have better things to do than sit here and talk to me, I can go if you want to," you rambled on before Frank reached forward and put his hand on your knee to stop you. You couldn't say you felt a jolt of electricity, because you weren't that cliché, but the warmth of his hand splayed on your knee did funny things to your stomach. 

His sincere eyes met yours when he said, "I work down at the docks, I repair boats, so I'm kinda freelancing, I can work whenever I feel like it. If you want though, you can come see the docks with me. You haven't been there yet, right?"

You shook your head, "I'd love to," you replied. 

You drove to the docks, getting out of the car and squinting your eyes at the bright late morning sun. Frank led you between a maze of boats and buildings until you reached the shed where he kept his tools. You sat down on a table and looked around, taking in your surroundings while Frank tidied up some stuff in a hurry.

"It's a cool place," you said, still roaming your eyes so you wouldn't have to meet his. Or more accurately, so you wouldn't let them linger on his arms, or shoulders, or face. You know, the normal things that you'd find insanely attractive about someone you've known for less than a week. Everything's totally under control.

"So, have you ever tried fixing a motorboat?" Frank smiled.

You raised your eyebrow at him. "I think you know the answer to that is a definite no," you chuckled. 

"Well, why don't you try it?" Frank suggested, "These aren't much use when they're sitting around here," he gestured at the tools. " if I'm here I might as well do some work. Wanna come?" 

"Sure, why not," you jumped down from the table and made your way to follow Frank through the door and back into the summer heat. He led your way to a small boat. When you got closer you could see the engine, the part that was covering it propped nearby to allow access to the mechanics of the ship. You both made your way on it and Frank crouched down and peered down at the engine.

"Okay, you wanna come see this?" he said and you came closer, crouching down next to him. He started explaining something about which part exactly is damaged, but you were too busy staring at his lips to really register what he was saying. Besides, you excused to yourself, it's not like I would've understood even if I was listening.

"So, what do you need to do to fix it?" you asked, breaking from your trance-like state and hurriedly changing the subject before he would realize you weren't paying attention. Or even more humiliating, realize what you were paying attention to.

He took a screwdriver and extended it to you. "For starters, I gotta open it up, which is the easy part so you can help," he smirked. 

You rolled your eyes but took the screwdriver from his hand, unscrewing where he showed you. You tried to focus on the job at hand, but honestly, you were kinda thinking about how much you wanted to screw him. Okay, chill the fuck out, you chastised yourself, he has a kid to worry about. And is way out of your league. 

For the next hour or so you and Frank, or mostly Frank, worked away at the engine. You actually managed to keep up with most of his explanations, despite the closeness between the two of you feeling both consuming and thrilling. The repairing the boat part was fine, and it was great to get some experience with something new, but it couldn't compare to the rush of your heartbeat every time Frank's arm brushed against you, or he'd lean into you a little, or grab your hand in his and show you how to properly do something. 

 Frank fixed one last thing and then looked up at you with a soft smile, "that's it," he said.

"I did it!" you exclaimed. "Wow, do you think I should start doing this as my job? I mean, I'm really good," you both laughed. 

"Yeah, sure," he said, "and you could fix some crankshafts and bearings," he smiled.

"Okay, yeah, we get it, I don't even know enough about boats to tell if these are actual boat parts," you laughed. 

"You wanna maybe get some lunch after all your hard work?" he gave you a lopsided grin and you accepted his invitation.

You were sitting at a small restaurant, enjoying your food, when you suddenly realized, "Hey, shouldn't you pick Mary up from school or something?" you frowned a little.

"Oh, no, Roberta wanted to have her for the night, so she's gonna take her," he said.

"So, Roberta is like a mother figure for Mary?" you asked tentatively. 

"I wouldn't say that, she's more of an aunt," Frank answered with a smile. "I guess the mother figure part is reserved for whoever I marry or something," he shrugged.

"Okay, maybe I'm prying a bit, but why don't you find someone? I mean, it doesn't seem too hard since you're so dreamy," you said, and then closed your mouth immediately. Please make the ground swallow me right now.

"Oh god, did I say that out loud?" you said and chuckled in an attempt to mask your embarrassment. "Whatever, ignore me, I'm just nosy and—"

"No, don't retract that," Frank smiled, his eyes glinting, "it's not every day you get such a compliment from a cute girl," he smiled timidly, blushing a little, but kept his eyes on you. 

"Thanks," you said, smiling. He was just being nice. You got through the rest of your lunch, ignoring the subject completely. You were glad he took it in good humor. Great, we're adults. We can move past that. 

You drove back into the neighborhood and stopped next to your houses. You got out of the car, stopping next to Frank. 

"Thanks for today," you said. "I had a great time," you continued and almost started walking away until Frank caught you by your wrist, effectively stopping you. You turned around; a questioning look on your face.

"You know I meant what I said at lunch, right?" he asked, smiling. "I'd love to take you out on an actual date sometime. You know, if you actually meant what you said at lunch," he smirked a little.

"I did," you admitted softly. "I'd love to go out sometime."

"Great," he said. "that means I can do what I wanted to do all day," he said. Before you could ask what that was, he closed the distance between you and attached his lips to yours. You brought your arms to wrap around his neck while his tongue slipped into your mouth. You explored each other's mouths eagerly, your hands tangling in the back of his hair while he pushed you against the car, hands exploring with passion.

When you pulled apart after what felt like forever but was simultaneously too short a time, you spoke. "So," you panted, "Mary's at Roberta's you say?"

"I like the way you think," he smirked and took your hand, leading you into the house with him.

Once inside, Frank led you to the bedroom. He was quick to recapture your mouth with his, his warm hands sneaking under your shirt, lifting it above your head, and tossing it aside. He stopped to marvel at you before you quickly closed the distance once more, pushing your hips against him a little before pulling off his shirt, moving to lick and suck down his chest and abs.

You reached his pants and made quick work of his belt, pulling his pants down with his boxers and freeing his already hard length. You spit in your hand before stroking him, and even watching him get hard made you wet with anticipation. You looked up at him, and maintaining eye contact you wrapped your lips around him, taking him into your mouth with greed. You started swirling your tongue around him and he groaned, thrusting into your mouth. You nearly gagged but you continued your ministrations, starting to hollow your cheeks and suck him for all it's worth. 

He put his hand on the back of your head, pulling you away and you stood back up. "As much as I'm enjoying this," he rasped, "you gotta get in on the fun." He attached his lips to your neck, sucking at your pulse point as you moaned. He reached to take off your pants and you undid your bra, tossing it across the room as well.

"Now we're even," he breathed against your ear, his hand trailing down before pushing a finger into you, smirking at the sensation of your wetness. You clenched around his finger, holding onto his shoulders while your breathing hitched. He inserted a second finger in and continued to finger you in a slow, torturous pace until you finally had it. You left open-mouthed kisses along his neck and whispered in his ear. "Frank," you moaned at his thumb reaching your clit, "I need you."

He didn't need to be told twice, pulling his fingers out of you and swiftly tossing you on the bed, hovering above you before capturing your lips in a thorough kiss before lining himself up with your entrance and pushing into you, the stretch causing you to moan and grab onto his back. 

He started moving and you dug your fingers into his back, panting at the feeling of him reaching your g-spot. The feeling of him on top of you, inside of you, was tenfold more intense than what you felt before on the boat, and you bucked your hips against him at the thought. He sensed your need and picked your legs up. You wrapped them around his waist and he started going faster, the change of pace and angle quickly pushing you both over the edge. 

Later you laid in his bed, the sheets messed around you, listening to the far-off sounds of the evening from outside. You absentmindedly moved your fingers along his chest, drawing the pattern of a heart over and over again, like a schoolgirl in a notebook. He said nothing, just took your hand in his, brought it up to his mouth and kissed it. 

"We should probably get some dinner," he said and you hummed in agreement. "Maybe I could take you out on that date?" he smiled.

As if on cue, your stomach grumbled and you both laughed.

"Let's go dreamboat," you sassed and got up to search for your clothes.

Some months later you celebrated Mary's birthday. You had a little party at home for her and some friends, which you helped organize. By now you were a part of Mary's life, and you couldn't be happier about it.

Frank came up to you, smiling. "I think we threw a pretty great party," he said.

"I do too. Mary seems like she's enjoying herself." You smiled at the sight of her playing with her friends.

"She is," Frank said. "And it's thanks to… me. Dreamy Frank at it again!" he said and you both burst out into laughter. 

"God, you're really never gonna let me live that down will you?"

"Well, you're cute, so maybe you still stand a chance," he winked and you both laughed. He went to help the girls with their game and Roberta came up and stood next to you. "You know," she said, "besides Mary, he never laughs with anyone like that. Certainly not an adult," she smiled and you smiled at her as well, catching Frank lifting Mary in his arms from the corner of your eye. "Well," she continued, "I guess that's how it is with family." 

That is how it was. You've never felt happier than in the moments you spent with Frank and Mary. You love them both dearly. To think you found your family when you were looking for a job! Well, life's funny like that sometimes. And you wouldn't have it any other way. 

hope you enjoyed! this was supposed to be fluffy but... oh well best of both worlds

Chris Taglist: @swatson06 @horny-nd-bored​ @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds​ @phoebe-21-99 @wintersoldierslut​ @iceebabies​ @wanessalopesueiros @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree​ @kaitcordx25 @bequeening​ @steve-barry-damon-logan​ @itscrazycherryblossomcollection​ @hollandxmarvel​ @darkwitchfromthesouth @stargazingfangirl18 @readsreblogsfics @onetwo3000 @beritmetal

if you wanna join / be removed from the taglist, comment/message me! this is a taglist for Chris and his characters. much love <3

[freaoscanlin]

Put It On the List

3283 words, rated PG. Clint/Laura, Laura & Natasha, Natasha & Clint.

A few months before the events of Captain America: Winter Soldier, the spy life interrupts the Barton family on a normal errand. Perhaps bringing the scary ex-Russian spy was a mistake. She thinks so, at any rate.

A/N: I wrote this as something of a prelude to an Endgame fix-it fic in progress. It predates everything in that fic and it's cute, so I'm tossing it up here for now.

“Everybody’s allowed one fun item, too. House rules.”

“Not sure they sell anything I consider fun here,” Natasha said, glancing up at the rafters dubiously, “but I’ll take it under consideration.”

“Dirty,” Clint said, walking by with a green bunch of bananas.

“Sorry we can’t provide more excitement than grocery shopping,” Laura said as she pulled out the stash of reusable bags from the trunk.

“It’s fine.”

Laura was of the opinion that a vacation should be taken somewhere exotic, or at least filled with bottomless alcoholic beverages, especially given as young and unfettered as Natasha was. But the woman who had recently become Captain America’s partner at SHIELD had apparently decided a week off merited a trip to Iowa and she had been absolutely content to tag along on family outings with no apparently sign of boredom at all.

“It’s okay,” Clint said, hopping out from the driver’s seat as Natasha unhooked Lila from her car seat. “Nat’s secretly boring at heart. It’s the best kept secret at SHIELD.”

Natasha gave him a puzzled look. “Now, that can’t be true if even you’ve figured it out.”

“Excellent burn,” Laura said, laughing. “You really should come stay more often.”

“Somebody needs to keep Cap in line, otherwise I would.” Nat easily swung Lila onto her hip, following the other three as Cooper grabbed onto his father’s hand.

Laura had already spent the entire dinner the night before peppering her with questions about working with Steve Rogers, the Captain America from the comments. Clint had mentioned him a few times after that kerfuffle in New York with the Chitauri (“Nice guy, wears khakis.”), but Natasha had the inside scoop. And more willingness to share if he was as attractive in person as he looked on TV in that ridiculous star-striped uniform (“If you like that square-jawed All-American sort of thing, sure.”). Laura had even pointed out that, hey, if he was single...

“Yes, the ex-Russian spy and the American war hero. It sounds too much like a bad eighties movie.” Natasha had helped herself to more creamed corn. “I think I’ll have to find him a girlfriend to avoid ever having to answer that question again.”

“Hey,” Laura had said, protesting.

“Fair,” Clint had agreed.

And now here was the ex-Russian spy herself tagging along at the grocery store, carrying Lila and looking like there wasn’t anyplace else she’d rather be than the big chain grocery store a few towns over because they had a better selection of gluten free snacks than the Shop A Lot back home. She trailed along as Clint took over the cart, Lila kicking her legs happily from the child’s seat atop.

“You’ve got the list?” Laura asked.

“I thought you had it?”

“Clint, I said you need to grab it off the fridge before we left. Weren’t you listening?”

“I always listen to you. But it wasn’t on the fridge, so I thought you had it.”

“That’s ridiculous, I put it there last night and—” Laura turned to see Natasha silently holding it out, eyebrows high. “Oh, that works. Thanks, Natasha.”

A half-shrug. “He would’ve forgotten it.”

“They’re impugning my honor,” Clint told Lila and Cooper, the former of whom giggled back at him. “What’s first? Edible or not edible?”

“Food first. Oh, hey, did you remember to put the popsicle sticks on here? Cooper’s day camp was asking people to donate supplies, and I put us down for those.”

“Yes, I absolutely did that. For no reason whatsoever, may I see the list?” Clint grabbed it away and underhandedly passed it to Natasha. Since Laura caught the move, she figured they weren’t actually trying to hide it.

When the list returned to her, “popsicle sticks” was written on the appropriate line in slightly loopy handwriting. “Cute,” Laura said. “Also, if there’s food you want that we don’t have at the house, make sure you put it in, Nat.”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay. Just keep it in mind.” Laura smirked. “Everybody’s allowed one fun item, too. House rules.”

“Not sure they sell anything I consider fun here,” Natasha said, glancing up at the rafters dubiously, “but I’ll take it under consideration.”

“Dirty,” Clint said, walking by with a green bunch of bananas.

Natasha rolled her eyes at him, but a small smile broke out when Laura laughed. Later, Laura noticed that a small bag of nectarines had been added to the cart.

Normally she did this errand without two spies in tow, which was a matter of getting the groceries as quickly as possible and especially speeding through the aisles with the brightly colored boxes that would make Cooper and now Lila whine. Clint’s paycheck was more than generous enough to cover their expenses, but she liked to keep the sugar down at least a little. Grocery trips could be a nightmare from that alone. But now she could send one of them down the danger aisles, while the other distracted the children.

She could get used to this.

Of course, she could have just sent Clint or even Natasha to do the shopping—or gone herself—and she imagined they’d have it done in less than a fifth of the time it took them to wander the aisles now. But Clint had been called on so many SHIELD missions lately that it was nice to just have some family time together.

She was about to suggest they hit up the putt putt course on the way home when Clint’s body language snapped into readiness. On the other side of the cart, Natasha turned away in what most people would deem a casual fashion, but Laura was surprised to see tension running across the line of her shoulders as well.

Instantly, she began to turn her head, to see what had set them both off.

“Don’t look,” Natasha said, Clint echoing her a split-second later.

Cold panic sprang up, but Laura froze in place. The air conditioning turned abruptly frigid. In the basket, Lila had conked out, wheezing a little, and Laura had never been so grateful for her daughter’s ability to fall asleep anywhere.

“This way,” Clint said in a murmur, scooping up Cooper. To strangers, it would never look out of the ordinary, but Laura knew her husband too well to be fooled. And his partner, too, apparently, for she could sense something amiss as Natasha fell in step behind her. At the end of the aisle, away from the registers and most of the store, Clint began shoving aside various things in the cart to deposit Cooper in there. He glanced at Laura. “It’ll be okay, honey. Nat, are they here for you or me?”

“Me.” The word was flat. “They’re scoping out women.”

“Who? Who’s here for what?”

She’d seen Clint and Natasha’s silent conversations before, usually at holiday dinners, but those were always warm and amused. Now, Laura was treated to the fact that they seemingly had their own entire language—and the ability to hold arguments with little more than a few nods and pointed looks.

“Mom, what’s going on?” Cooper asked. “Dad put the stuff back wrong.”

“I know. It’s okay, though. The store employees will know where to put it back properly.” Her pulse had begun to hammer, but Laura did her best to keep her hands steady as she petted Lila’s bent head.

“Fine, you win,” Natasha said, the first words she’d spoken aloud. “Where?”

“Northeast corner, break room.” Clint collected an oversized bucket of licorice, and as Laura and Cooper gawked at him, popped it open and dumped the individually wrapped candies into the cart.

Natasha dropped her phone into it and grabbed Laura’s purse.

“What? Hey, don’t—”

Natasha pulled out a few items, including Laura’s phone. This she dumped in the bucket. An unfamiliar black box, she tossed to Clint. Laura stared mournfully at the shimmery blue phone case bought off of Etsy only last week as the entire bucket was hidden on a shelf behind a case of gum. Clint tossed his hooded jacket to Natasha, gave Laura one brief, heart-stopping look, tousled Cooper’s hair, kissed Lila on the head, and strode off without looking back.

“We were followed,” Natasha said in an undertone, pulling the hood over her distinctive hair.

Followed could mean anything from evil assassins to space aliens at this point, and both of those options led to nauseating conclusions. But Natasha shot her a look, so Laura nodded and swallowed back any panic. And then she changed again, quicksilver just like Clint, so that she was bright and happy Auntie Natasha once more. She picked up Cooper out of the basket and held onto his hand, swinging it cheerfully. “Time to play a new fun game. It’s called ‘Let’s be invisible.’”

“How do you play?”

“Our job,” and Natasha actually hunkered down so that she was on eye level with Cooper, “is to get all the way there,” she pointed to the back of the store, “as fast as we can without running. Because if we run, we won’t be invisible anymore.”

“This is a silly game, Auntie Nat.”

“That’s half the fun, isn’t it? Shh, come with me.” Natasha rose and made brief eye contact with Laura, then headed down the aisle in the opposite direction from Clint. She walked briskly, but not fast enough to draw attention, and Laura had to follow. “Clint’s scoping things out,” she said in a low voice as Laura caught up with the sleeping Lila. “He’ll be fine. I’m taking you and the kids to hide.”

“Are you going to stay with us?”

“You’ll be safe.”

So that was a no. Because she knew her friend well enough, she knew Natasha was tense and watchful, but not a single thing about her betrayed that fact. Natasha didn’t lead them straight to wherever they were going, either. They crossed the store through random aisles, first through the art department and then sporting goods, and Laura’s heart sank as she noticed they were approaching the toy department. They were never escaping without at least one meltdown.

But Natasha surprised her by leaning down and whispering something to Cooper that had him giggling. And right on through they went without a single problem.

“Shh,” Natasha said to Cooper as she pushed open the door to a break room. She peeked inside, then jerked her head for Laura to follow.

“What are we doing, Auntie Nat?” Cooper asked as Natasha immediately climbed onto a table and reached for the ceiling.

“New part of the game,” Natasha said.

Laura looked at the human-sized trap door she’d opened and thought Oh no.

“You get to go up there,” Natasha said. “And it’ll be like hide and seek.”

Cooper’s expression suddenly shouted that he found the prospect of invisibility much less enchanting now. “It looks scary.”

“I’ll be with you,” Laura said. “The whole time. We’ll be invisible together, okay?”

“You first, and I’ll hand them up,” Natasha said.

Laura clambered gingerly onto the table, wishing she’d worn better shoes for this. She put her foot into Natasha’s cupped hands and hauled herself into a very, very dusty vent. Darkness surrounded her and she thought Oh, no. Cooper needed a nightlight on the best of nights. Her son was far cleverer than most; even with Natasha’s easy cheer, he could clearly tell something was off. And if he began crying, Lila was bound to wake as well. Keeping them both quiet would be beyond impossible.

Natasha passed Lila up first, and the toddler barely even stirred. Before she could lift Cooper, she hopped off the table and down to his level. Laura couldn’t hear what she said, but she saw Cooper nod and hold his arms up, completely trusting.

When Natasha lifted him up into the vent, he had his chubby little fist wrapped around a little flashlight. Laura hadn’t even seen Natasha pull that from the shelf, though she recognized it as being from sporting goods. Cooper waved it about, wildly.

“I couldn’t grab much,” Natasha said, hauling herself up so that she hung half off the trap door. Laura would kill for that kind of core strength. She slid over two coloring books and crayons. “Sorry about that. Stay here until Clint or I come to get you. If somebody comes in, we’re invisible, right?”

“Invisible,” Cooper agreed, scrambling for the coloring books.

“Good man.” Natasha reached up to ruffle his hair like Clint had done. She glanced about the air vent in a distinctly sardonic way. “Cozy.”

“Stay safe.”

“Will do.” She raised an eyebrow at Laura, and disappeared down the hatch. A few seconds later, the trapdoor slid back into place, leaving Laura in a dark vent with her children and no cell phone to keep them company.

She had to remind herself that they were lucky something like this hadn’t happened before, though that felt like cold comfort when everything smelled like dust. She shifted the sleeping Lila in her arms. “Here, set it here,” she said, helping Cooper open the coloring book. “What shall we color first, huh?”

* * * *

Nearly eleven minutes later, Natasha knelt down next to the man she’d cornered in Home and Garden and resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Coincidence.”

“Yup.” Clint sounded close to laughter, the traitor.

“The whole thing. Coincidence.”

“Looks that way.”

Natasha sat down hard on the bottom shelf, which held giant sacks of birdseed. Slamming his head into those rather than the concrete floor was probably the only reason the thug was even still breathing. She’d need to hide the body soon, and alert SHIELD, but she had a few minutes to recover. The cell phone she’d stolen out of his pocket after their fight didn’t show an image of her, as she’d expected, but a completely random woman who looked nothing like Natasha outside of being the same height.

It had definitely been a hit, but she hadn’t been the target.

At least they’d saved some random woman, so there was that.

“We should’ve known they weren’t here for you when there were only two of them,” Clint said over the earpiece. He’d teased her about stashing them in Laura’s purse before they left, the traitor. And look who’d been correct to do so. It had kept them in contact as he’d stalked his own target back to the clearance section in the back. “Mine’s taken care of. You?”

“One minute.” She hauled the man bodily onto the shelf and tossed sacks of birdseed over him.

“I’ll get the phones and swing by to steal the surveillance. You fetch Laura and the kids.”

Natasha winced. The last thing she wanted to do was face Laura after ruining this outing for everybody. “I think they’d rather see their daddy after being stuffed in a dark place out of nowhere.”

“Nah, Auntie Nat is just as good,” Clint said. “Face it, you’re part of the family now, god help you.”

“Yeah, part of the family that can’t even let us go grocery shopping without disaster striking.”

There was a warm laugh from the other side of the comms. “Disaster? This is nothing compared to getting two small children through the cereal aisle without a tantrum, Romanoff.”

Natasha, reaching up to fix the braids that had become disordered during the scuffle, wrinkled her nose. She debated whether or not to swing by the staff restrooms on the way and clean up the lucky hit the thug had landed, but decided it was more important to get la familia Barton out of the vents quickly. The less time the children spent in a dark, scary place, the better.

She resolutely did not think of the absolute darkness of thatshipping container, which unfortunately brought the thoughts closer to the surface than she liked.

But she also didn’t want to scare the children, so she grabbed a hand towel off an endcap as she passed, and dabbed at her face.

Mercifully, the break room remained empty when she stepped in. “All clear,” she said, moving the table back under the trap door. “Invisible game’s over.”

From inside, she heard thumping. “Auntie Nat!”

“Cooper, wait—” was the only warning she had before the trap door opened and Cooper launched himself at her.

She snatched him out of the air, and absolutely did not think about what could have happened if she’d been slower to react. “Whoa, okay. Excited to get out of there, huh?” Laura’s white face appeared over the edge, eyes wide. Natasha mouthed he’s fine back at her. “Here, climb down, let me help your mom and your sister out.”

“I stayed so-o-o-o quiet,” Cooper said. “We colored in a dinosaur for you, but we didn’t know your favorite color so I picked red like your hair. What is your favorite color? There’s another dinosaur on the page, so if it’s not red, I can use that color instead.”

“I do like red a lot.” Natasha thought about it. “Purple, too, maybe.”

“You can’t have purple, that’s Dad’s favorite color.”

“Coop, more than one person can have purple as their favorite color,” Laura said, transferring Lila down to Natasha. Mercifully the baby had slept through all of it. “I like purple, too, remember?”

Cooper wrinkled his nose at that. “Okay, fine. I’ll make it purple.”

“I can’t wait to see it,” Natasha promised. Once the entire family had been retrieved, she pushed the trap door back into place. Of course Clint had scouted this spot months ago. His paranoia remained legendary. “Family’s secure, Barton.”

“Got it,” Clint said. “Heading to the front.”

“Meet you there,” Natasha said. To the others with her, she tilted her head toward the door. “Ready to get out of here?”

Laura looked more or less composed, which Natasha had to credit her for. Civilians rarely handled those kinds of curveballs well, but she’d been married to Clint for a decade. It stood to reason this might not even be the first time something like this had happened. Her grip on the sleeping Lila remained tight. “Coop, hold Auntie Nat’s hand, okay? Humor me.”

“All right, I guess.”

“Everything good?” Laura asked.

“False alarm,” Natasha said.

One eyebrow went up. “A false alarm gave you a split lip?”

Natasha worked at it with her tongue, scrunching her nose at the brief spark of pain. “Just another exciting day in our line of work. It all turned out okay, if you ignore that we were unsuccessful in our primary objective.”

Laura looked blank, so Natasha prompted: “Getting the groceries, Barton.”

“Pfft, whatever. We’ll get takeout. We’ll consider it an adventure, and it won’t even be the first one today. Hopefully there will be less dust this time.” Laura leaned over, conspiratorially. “I am getting my phone back, right? I really like the case, and it’ll take forever to get another one like it.”

Years of espionage training kept Natasha from staring at her like she’d sprouted a second head. Clint had told her years before that his wife was far more pragmatic than either of them, but she’d never had a chance to witness it in action before. She almost wanted to ask if this was some kind of backwoods Midwestern thing, but it seemed better not to do that.

So she settled into a helpless laugh. “Yes, we’ll get your phone back. The case is really cute.”

“Good. I knew you’d agree.” Laura squeezed her shoulder with her free hand, and it felt more like a thank you than Natasha had ever received after years and years on the job.

“One point,” Natasha said, feeling a tiny bit shy as as she pulled out a package she’d swiped on their trip through the store earlier. “We should probably pay for the coloring books. And these.”

Laura looked down at the bag of popsicle sticks and laughed. “You really are a hero.”

FIN

(the target was a leaked witsec hit. Bad timing all around)

[juniorgman187]

The Bones (Reid Series) Part 1

Summary: Almost a year after Maeve’s death, Spencer reaches out to the recipients of Maeve’s donated organs to reconnect with his lost love. However, when the receiver of her heart, Reader, doesn’t write back, Spencer goes on a poorly-motivated mission to find her. 

Playlist: “The Bones” by Maren Morris & Hozier   (BONUS: song includes major foreshadowing)

A/N: There is an OC in this story because to me, writing “(y/n)” over and over again cheapens the story and doesn’t flow well. It was a personal decision, and to anyone it sincerely bothers, I’m sure there’s a way you can insert your own name instead. This fic is also inspired by “Things We Know By Heart” by Jessi Kirby. Category: Series, Soft Angst, Eventual Smut + NSFW content* Pairing: Spencer Reid POV x Fem!OC Content Warning: allusions to death, mourning, loss, recovery, arrhythmia (this is an intro chapter, so it’ll get more interesting from here I promise) Word Count: 2.2k

This will be a multi-part series.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

It all started that first autumn after Maeve’s death - just five weeks past a year since I parted with her. I was absentmindedly reading when, rather out of the blue, Mary Donovan called to inform me about a Mrs. Rachel Larsen. 

Although we didn’t learn her actual name until later, she was first known to us as the recipient of Maeve’s liver. Not a single one of the three of us - Maeve’s parents and me - had expected a recipient to be in contact with us. That inability to predict such an event was caused by my neglect to remember Maeve was an organ donor. It wasn’t particularly relevant in the grand scheme of things, and for that forgetfulness, I was truly ashamed, but after reading Rachel Larsen’s letter together with the Donovans, it all came back to me. 

Every single thing. 

You see, despite the anonymity of the person writing to us, it was as if I could actually feel Maeve’s soul coming alive again, as strange as that sounds. 

She was still here with me ... in some form. 

Later that night, when I would return to an empty apartment, I would wonder why I hadn’t thought of reaching out to the recipients before. Even though I’d already started writing a thank you letter back to Rachel, the thirst for more of Maeve became increasingly insatiable. 

While I did have fond memories of her to live by, I couldn’t thrive off of them in the way that I did with that letter. Our only moments together worth reliving were those spent over the phone, a time when I didn’t even know what she looked like. But that letter from Rachel Larsen ... it was somehow more wholesome and pure than any memory of the living Maeve that I could cultivate.

You could say I was doing this to ease my mourning, meaning it should’ve made me feel better, but that didn’t stop the guilt from eating away at me piece by piece as I wrote letters to the rest of the recipients. 

The Donovans had no idea I was doing this, but I reasoned to myself that they would appreciate the surprise. Though they were still undeniably riddled with grief, smiles embellished their sullen faces when they read about Rachel’s quality of life now with a new liver. So maybe, just maybe, hearing from the rest of the receivers would be good for us all. At least, that’s what I told myself.

In one of those rare moments when inspiration strikes and it courses through your veins at the speed of lightning, I found myself being more productive than I had been in nearly a year. By midnight, I’d successfully composed five letters, each dedicated to the receiver of one of Maeve’s major organs - none of which, though, included my identity.

Given the fragile process of contacting the transplant coordinators, getting consent forms, and premeeting counseling, it would be months, if not years, before I would be able to really speak with these faceless people. Nothing against Donor Family Services - I’m sure they do the best they can - but for me, their best wasn’t good enough. So instead, I enlisted the help of someone I knew could never let me down. 

“Are you sure you want me to do this?” Penelope peered up at me from her seat, her pinky finger hesitantly hovering over the ‘enter’ button. 

“Yes.” 

With just one click, she discovered the addresses of each one of those faceless people. This singular operation, albeit somewhat unethical, was the final piece to my puzzle. All there was left to do now was send the letters to them, with the tenuous hope they might send one back. 

Luckily for me, not a single recipient questioned how I managed to find them or why this process wasn’t being handled by Donor Family Services, but I suppose if they did wonder those things, they didn’t feel comfortable asking me. Especially not after they learned who I was in relation to their donor. I didn’t intend to guilt-trip anyone with what I wrote in my letters nor did I want to take advantage of anyone’s empathy, but how could you possibly make a foe out of your organ donor’s grieving boyfriend? Exactly - you can’t. So you don’t. Instead, you send an inviting letter back, telling me you’d love to meet. Which is what four of them did.

Only one person didn’t reply, and while an 80% success rate was great, I simply couldn’t let this one go. Trust me, I would have ... had it been any other organ. 

For quite some time, I was the one with Maeve’s heart. 

I just needed to see where it was now.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

The heart has several definitions and corresponding connotations. 

Scientifically speaking, the heart is a hollow muscular organ that pumps the blood through the circulatory system by rhythmic contraction and dilation. However, figuratively, the heart can be seen as the central or innermost part of something. The heart of a city, for example. But in literature, the heart is symbolic of love. It is often regarded as the source of all knowledge, which is where the comparison between the head and the heart comes from. The head operates logically, whereas the heart functions emotionally, but despite the rationality the head holds, the heart is what people advise you to listen to because it holds the ultimate truth. 

The heart, because it is equipped with your truest feelings, supersedes any logic and reason the head might hold. 

But you see, I only ever knew Maeve’s mind. I could understand the inner workings of it - I’d probably be able to navigate through her consciousness if I entered it given the fact that our intellect matched one another’s - and I shared nearly identical thought processes with her, but that was all that I ever knew. 

And if that was how much knowledge she held in her head alone, then, undoubtedly, her heart held so much more.

Science defines the heart as an organ. Figurative language uses the heart to establish a focal point. Literature likens the heart to love. But I compare her heart to the ocean. Like the sea, Maeve’s heart was 80% undiscovered, and exploration was simply calling my name. 

For that reason, and that reason alone, I couldn’t abandon my pursuit of it. 

That’s not to say I wasn’t ashamed of this mission, though. If anything, shame for the man I had become in the face of Maeve’s death was the only feeling I was truly capable of anymore. Any other emotions were fleeting or insincere. 

Unfortunately, that slimy, disgusting feeling was only amplified times ten when I found myself driving two hours and forty-five minutes to get to Virginia Beach. 

No sane man would drive this far on a weekday for even their most prized possession, and yet here I was, exactly 180 miles away from home, seeking out someone who hadn’t had the courtesy to even write me back, let alone agree to meet with me. Who knows if she’d even give me the time of day. 

She being Valerie. 

“Valerie Elise Bishop was born on August 5th, 1988 in Henderson, Nevada, to parents Andrew and Sara, but when Valerie turned seventeen, she was diagnosed with arrhythmia,” Garcia explained to me over the phone on the car ride here. “It’s when-”

“When the electrical impulses that coordinate your heartbeats don't work properly, causing your heart to beat too fast, too slow or irregularly,” I accidentally cut in. Realizing I interrupted Garcia, I brought her back into the conversation by asking, “I know there are more than 3 million cases per year in the U.S, but isn’t it usually common for ages 60 or older?” 

“You are most certainly correct, Boy Wonder. It is more common in ages 60 and older, however, her maternal grandmother passed away from arrhythmia, so the family history increased the likelihood.” 

At the sound of this news, I had to pull the car over and physically stop just so I could grasp the weight of what I was really doing. 

“In Henderson, Nevada ... maternal grandmother passed away ... family history increased the likelihood …” Garcia’s voice rang in my head. 

It was then that I came face to face with the gravity of reality. 

Valerie wasn’t just a faceless name or a recipient of Maeve’s heart, she was a person. And her humanity only became more apparent to me the more Penelope spoke. 

For god’s sake, she and I grew up in the same state. She and I saw the same sunsets from the same little corner of the earth. She drove down the same highways and byways - we might’ve even crossed paths at one point or another! Not to mention that she lost her grandmother to the same disease that she was suffering from, and if there was one thing consistent about arrhythmia, it was very likely she’d been living with it for decades, if not her entire lifetime. It’s a long term disease that takes years to improve but only seconds to kill. All it would take is just one irregular beat, and she’d be dead. How can you possibly live with that constant fear looming over your head? 

She is a person. I had to remind myself. Not just a means to explore more of Maeve. 

“Hey, Garcia,” I turned the car back on. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” 

“What do you mean?” I could just feel panic begin to rise in Garcia. 

“No, I’m not talking about life, I’m talking about this.” Though she couldn’t see, I grandly gestured to the location, the car, and the passenger seat that was cluttered with files on Valerie. “I don’t feel right invading her privacy like this. It’s just selfish.” 

I wasn’t the only one mourning something here. 

“Are you sure?” Penelope clarified. Which was ironic considering she was the one who was unsure of doing any of this, to begin with. What was I thinking? I shouldn’t have dragged Garcia into this. Something as immoral as this was totally against her character, but she did it anyway because her loyalty to her friends conquers all. 

Like I said, my shame multiplied times ten. If not for Valerie, then certainly for Penelope. 

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m heading home.” 

“Okay,” She softly returned. “Be safe.” 

“Oh, and Garcia?” I asked before ending the call. “Thanks.” 

“Of course. Anything for you, Dr. Reid.” 

By the time I ended the call, the sun was already setting - that’s how long I’d been on the road for. The nearly-three-hour drive I would have to make for the second time today meant I wouldn’t be home in time to beat the pitch-black sky, so considering I was already in for a long night, I made a little detour for the one thing I couldn’t go home without.

A piping hot cup of coffee. 

I felt something as rewarding as caffeine was well deserved for the self-restraint I demonstrated minutes ago. And maybe it was my exhaustion, both mental and physical, that brought me to the near conclusion that I would truly let this go, but I was honestly feeling like I could accept this. An 80% acceptance rate. Not bad, right? 

Though I was basically half-asleep while waiting for my coffee, I could not miss the barista when she said, “Valerie! Your order’s ready!”

What are the chances?

A jolt of energy surged through my body and brought me back to life, causing me to whip my head around at the slightest semblance of movement. On instinct, my gaze gravitated to the woman walking towards the front counter. My pull to her was so strong that even if I hadn’t studied file upon file on her that included pictures of what she looked like, I still would’ve recognized her in a heartbeat.

I just knew. That’s her. 

I had no plan whatsoever for how I should approach this, and yet I still rose from my seat, motivated by nothing more than the single belief that I needed to.

Was this the universe telling me that I was meant to run into her after all? That I needed to meet the woman with an oceanic heart?

But when I finally got to where she was, she glided effortlessly past me, not paying any mind to my presence. Why would she though? To her, I was no one. To her, I was the faceless person. 

“Excuse me!” I bolted to the front counter after realizing I might’ve just missed my opportunity. The barista, stunned and concerned, furrowed her brows while she waited for my question. “Is that girl a regular here?”

“Valerie?” She pointed in her direction, to which I nodded rapidly. “Oh, yeah. She comes in here all the time. She works just across the street.” 

When I came to this coffee shop, it was simply by chance. It wasn’t even the closest cafe, but it was the one I chose to go to for some inexplicable reason. 

I’d like to think it was fate. I was meant to be here after all. Because right behind me stood the storefront of a building I had only briefly read about in Valerie’s file.

The Bones,  Art Gallery & Studio

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

PART 2 HERE!

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[philliamwrites]

One Fool’s Heart [Rank 4]

Fandom: Persona 5

Pairing: Akira / Reader, later: Akira / Akechi (one-sided)

Warnings: age difference, consensual underage romance, implied/referenced self-harm, implied/referenced child abuse, references to depression, unreliable narrator, angst, hurt & comfort, p3 cameos, p4 cameos, no persona 5 royal spoilers

Summary: All you wanted was a nice part time job to scrape by. But if you had known how much of a smug sass-master Akira Kurusu would turn out to be, you’d have thought twice about agreeing to tutor him.

Notes: Rank 3 | Rank 5 Masterlist

[Rank 4]

[you]: We still need to talk about what happened.

[you]: I can see you’re reading this.

[you]: You can’t just ignore me.

    The clear lack of response is evidence enough that yes, your dad can ignore you, and he is very motivated to do so. Even a whole month after the incident, he’s still avoiding you like a contagious disease, the exact opposite from your mother who clings to you like a very persistent octopus, demanding you to call her every day. It does the exact opposite from calming your nerves, and unlike anything before it draws Narukami’s suspicion like a beacon. You didn’t want to, but to redirect his attention, you used the only strategy you knew would hit him critically: You called him Yuu. Hearing his first name for the very first time, Narukami looked like you were trying to sell him drugs.

    “Who are you, and where is the real one?” he’d asked, face blank of expression, but his eyes had betrayed him, lighting up with joy that had squeezed your heart to walnut size. After four years, it’s long due, especially when it took you only a couple of weeks to reach that level of closeness with Akira. Though Akira shouldn’t be the touchstone for a delicate business like this. You’ve learnt Akira is someone people open up to dangerously quickly. His little, honest smiles are keys unlocking every door; whenever he throws his head back and laughs, people stop breathing for the tiniest seconds and stare, mesmerised and with a world full of possibilities opening up before them. It leaves you with a very strange feeling, one that warms your chest, but at the same time scares you to inspect it more closely, because the answer will surely lead to forbidden territory. Already you know that what you feel towards Akira isn’t something you can easily look past or ignore.     The realisation came slowly, but in the end inevitable like sand running down in an hourglass. The fact that you can relax around him in ways you don’t even dare to do while hanging out with other friends has become very suspicious to you. Especially since you’ve started hanging out in his attic a couple of weeks ago. The puzzled look Boss sends your way whenever you pass him before heading upstairs weighs just as much as the demanding one of the young fortune telling lady in Shinjuku trying to guilt trip you into buying more of her self made lucky soaps you really don’t need more of as one of your drawers is already close to bursting with how many you’ve squeezed inside. You’re pretty sure Boss is onto you, but for some reason he hasn’t called the Child Protective Service yet, and stupid as you are, you’re pushing your luck further. Which of course doesn’t solve your problem at all.

    Learning little personal things about Akira feels like opening the Pandora’s box. You’ve learnt he has this weird habit of asking Morgana questions and looking at him with a serious face expecting an answer before he remembers you’re in the same room and talking to a cat isn’t considered a normal thing— and still, that doesn’t leave him flustered; you’re not sure Akira even knows that word, because he just laughs, shakes his head, and then proceeds like nothing happened. According to his book shelf, he’s quite well-read. You spy cultural magazines about movies and theatres, books about language of flowers, efficient time management and fishing. Novels by authors from different countries build a wall on the highest rack, their familiar names and titles a welcome distraction from whenever Akira does something that requires you intensely staring at his face. Breathing for example. His room is littered with little discreet secrets you try not to dwell on too long like the tools on his work desk or all the dirty laundry covered in strange black goo. All those things don’t change the fact that his room still doesn’t look anything like a place a teenager should occupy. It doesn’t bother Akira, but even so, you occasionally sneak in basic living necessities like a small garbage bin, a pot with tulips, a white piggy bank and a desk lamp. Either Akira accepts everything without commenting or he thinks all this stuff has been there all this time.

    Another thing you’ve learnt about Akira is that he does not speak about his past and all the circumstances that lead up to him living in the attic above Leblanc. Once you tried to ask indirectly about that, but he immediately saw through you and for the rest of the study session you were rewarded with a cool, tight-lipped smile. It’s just as much of a delicate topic as the relationship with your family, and sometimes you can imagine the baggage you both are carrying with every secret weighing on your shoulders, clearly visible and yet both of you refuse to talk about it and choose to ignore the blatant obstacles you both stumble over rather than work together to put them away. Ignoring problems has always been one of your special traits you’re unrivalled at, so it’s no surprise that this is your tactics of approach regarding the budding feelings for Akira.     And just like that, a chance to put you miles away from facing what exactly you feel towards him comes sooner than expected. Talk about an upcoming party has slithered around the campus for a couple of days and you’ve planned your complete week just around it so you can go and get mindlessly drunk. You leave the dormitory around 8. After a day spent going through your texts and revising notes, you  depart without a guilty conscious, especially with exams approaching steadily. On your way to Ginza you get some additional booze, scrolling through messages from Narukami who tells you to come around if you miss the last train. It’s so sweet, especially because you know he isn’t a big fan of those parties. He probably knows what you’re up to and yes, one-night stands certainly don’t belong to your proudest moments, but right now you want to think of anything but Akira or that your dad still owes you an explanation you know he will give you wrapped up nicely in lies.

    The location this time is inside a shared apartment of two of your fellow students. Atsui and Samui, prodigy twins known for their mean serves, finally celebrate their birthday and oh boy, it is going to be a wild one. As kids from two highly esteemed doctors, their apartment is everything you wish for, and if you wouldn’t have dignity, you’d probably leech off your parents’ money as well. Their entrance area is bigger than your kitchen. Someone pushes a plastic cup with beer in your hand, then sends you into the lion’s den with an encouraging, little push. A gigantic table in the middle of the room is already surrounded by students playing beer pong, screaming at each other. The majority of the assembled already has had a few drinks judging from the hollering. The music blasts with a deep bass vibrating through your whole body as you slither around groups of people, receiving greeting claps on your shoulder here and bone braking hugs there.

    The superficiality of it all is the appeal, the sole motivation driving you to join these gatherings. Empty promises and half felt concerns are exactly what you crave right now, the sheer lack of emotional responsibility towards these people that will forget everything you say the next morning. It fills you with a strange feeling, like you’re floating in a bubble, separated from everyone without fearing they’ll pop it and expose you. It’s safe and easy, maybe lazy but exactly what you need right now.

    You look for familiar faces, and find one immediately, though it doesn’t exactly make you jump in joy. On the other end of the room you notice Tadashi, a guy you’ve met during one of your very rare visits to a college sport course in your first semester. Somehow you managed to stay in contact after all those years, and now he greets you by throwing a chicken wing in your direction. It lands with a splat at the wall behind you. You flip him off.

    Unsurprisingly, after too many rounds of drinking games, you end up in his apartment somewhere in Akihabara. You’ve barely passed the door when Tadashi’s hands find their way on your hips and in your hair, his mouth draws a hot path from your lips to your neck where they find a spot to settle and mark. Caged between a wall and his warm body, your fingers impatiently tug at his shirt until it’s off, landing forgotten somewhere on the ground. Tadashi’s training pays off, he easily swipes you up, pulling your legs around his waist. Seconds later you land on his bed, bouncing and giggling. It’s been so long since you’ve felt the intimate warmth of another body, every nerve is on fire and tense with expectation. Once things really go down, it becomes difficult to focus on him when your mind is occupied with something— someone else. The body on you changes into a dead weight pressing down on you, lips scrapping your skin. Fingers inside you try to bring you over the edge only to let you fall alone, alone and what usually feels like an exciting trip is suddenly a rollercoaster ride you want to get over with as soon as possible.

    His fingers travel from your neck to your chin, your cheeks and he conducts your face to the side to plaster kisses all over your jaw and that moment changes everything. You notice his slender, long fingers caressing your skin, working you apart from inside and they remind you of a different set of fingers, just as long and slender— and that’s your breaking point.

    The sound of a water boiler wakes you from a foggy dream. It takes a moment to remember where you are, the dozen faces of American musicians in posters on unfamiliar walls watching your every move as you get up and throw a blanket around your body. An off key hum lures you into the kitchen, where slim rays of sunshine draw blurry lines on the ground. It’s enough to make you squint and groan, the light too much for your eyes and hangover mind still trying to put together the images from last night.

    In front of the counter top, Tadashi is standing barefoot, preparing coffee. When he notices your frowning face, he offers you a cigarette with a crooked grin. Usually, you’d decline, but since everything has been going downhill lately, you succumb and indulge in one. The nicotine soothes your nerves to a straight line, allowing to hold up an easy conversation despite how awkward you expected it to be.

    “You really thought the plot line was good?” Tadashi raises an eyebrow at you, thumbing on his iPhone in search for a summary of the TV show you’ve both seen. The ash hangs dangerously at the tip of his cigarette, but you can’t find an ashtray. “It feels like there are a thousand plot holes.”

    “Well, it’s not like it has to make lots of sense? It’s a kid’s show?” The lack of immediate response tells you he thinks differently, but somehow you still feel smug about it, and take another sip from your coffee. That is until Tadashi, way too casually, asks, “By the way, who’s Akira?”

    You stare at him. Tadashi stares back. The only thing you manage is a stupid, “Huh?”

    The corners of Tadashi’s mouth jump. He leans back against the counter, his slim hips resting against the edge as he slurps his coffee unnecessarily loud like he wants to prove something. “Hey, I’m not judging. Just curious about the lucky fella.”

    “You mean—,” you start, but no matter how you think about continuing, you know it’ll just get worse. “You’re not saying I—”

    Tadashi’s grin widens. “Oh, you did. It was like—,” he curls his fingers into a fist and then snaps them open like an explosion, “you became a lot more excited, if you know what I mean.”

    “Oh God, this isn’t really happening,” you groan, pressing your palms against your eyes. If you can’t see him, he can’t see you, and you’re saved from an embarrassing conversation. But Tadashi has the complete opposite in mind and instead of remaining silent during your mental breakdown, he probes further, “So, do I know him?”

    God, you hope he doesn’t. Anything else would mean the end of you. But you can’t say it’s impossible for him to know Akira because he’s still in high school, so instead you settle on a vague truth. “No, he’s someone from work. By the way, did you read Lahey’s text? Can I get your notes? Cool, thanks!” You flee to his room, ignoring the blank expression he throws at you that clearly shows how bad you are at changing topics. Inside, you quickly dress even though you’re in desperate need of a shower. Judging from how hot you feel, your face must be on fire.

    Thousand thoughts stumble through your brain, each full of knots and no loose threads in sight, so you don’t even know where to start. Thinking about Akira is one thing. Imagining having sex with him should put you in prison. Hypothetically speaking, if this is a crush, and here you shudder because crushes are for teenagers, how can it escalate so quickly? To be fair, yes you were drunk, so maybe that shouldn’t count, but the images of him towering above you, his grey sly eyes eating you up while his mouth maps your body— it’s all too clear, the lines too sharp. This can’t happen again, you won’t allow it.

    Thankfully, Tadashi doesn’t say anything else when you return. You exchange goodbyes, mentioning meeting up some time again soon, but you both know that won’t happen, and that’s fine. The foundation of your relationship is based on on and off meetings that are just perfect because there is no expectations, no promises to keep. It’s easy because you both avoid complications, and that somehow makes Tadashi the perfect boyfriend candidate. Well, not for you, but there’s certainly someone out there for him.

    On your way home, you still think about the night and what it might mean for the future. How are you supposed to look Akira in the eyes and not be reminded of how you shamelessly moaned his name. The challenge becomes unexpectedly harder when your phone vibrates with a message. Akira’s name blinks in white letters, leaving you with a dreadful feeling in your stomach.

[Akira]: this is an emergency

[Akira]: mayday, mayday

[Akira]: call 911

[you]: What

[Akira]: help, send help! i got two cards for cake knight rises! someone has to go with me!

      You stare at the message, failing to see the problem. Why doesn’t he ask Ryuji or Ann?

[you]:  So ask your friends?

[Akira]:  i'm asking u? u r a friend?

     He really shouldn’t be able to make your heart jump with such simple sentences, and yet it stumbles in your chest like a hiker on foreign terrain.

[you]:  When?

[Akira]:  is that a yes??

[you]:  Depending on when. I’m supposed to teach you stuff, or did you forget?

[Akira]:  let’s consider it a field trip

[you]:  How about we don’t and just go about it the same as always?

[Akira]:  objection

[you]:  Denied.

[Akira]:  :(

[Akira]:  why so mean? i deserve a reward after nailing my finals.

[you]:  And I deserve a pay raise, but we don’t always get what we want.

[Akira]:  as the gentleman that i am, i'll even pay for your popcorn

[you]:  Sold. As long as we don’t end up in one of those late night screenings and the police make me responsible for dragging a minor around at this hour.

[Akira]:  sounds illegal. i'm in.

[you]:  Akira, no.

[Akira]:  akira yes

    Saying No to Akira is harder than backflipping from the second floor without breaking your ankles, and you’re sure he knows you can’t resist him any longer judging from how he’s spamming please for the next thirty seconds, and after that an additional twenty more with thanks after you finally agree. After deciding where to meet, you hurry home to take a shower and change into new clothes. There’s still some time left, so you check your messages. Apart from the usual suspects, a.k.a your mom, some fellow students and Narukami, Iori also send you a notification with a link, urging you to check out a fan page of a big cosplay group. But when the site finally loads, it’s the actual Phan-Site of the Phantom Thieves, filled with dozens discussion forums and comments. Right at the top is a red bar, above a question that makes you frown: [Are the Phantom Thieves just?]

    Now that you think about it, you haven’t heard from them since the incident with Madarame back in May. Two months have passed, and they feel more like a distant childhood memory rather than the latest breaking news covered by every TV channel. You wonder what they’re up to, or if they’re still around, and judging from some users, they’re also unsure about their whereabouts. At least one question you can answer pretty easily, and that is a big No on them being just. Whatever tricks they pull to make the people confess, it doesn’t put them above the law or allow them to go on with their unorthodox methods. Hopefully the police can get some leads on them and things will settle down once they’re locked up.

    Once it’s finally time to go, you’re actually relieved to get outside again and take a break from your readings, the black letters starting to merge into one indistinguishable shape in front of you.

    Shibuya is surprisingly calm for the evening hour, ignoring all the students gathering after school. The slowly approaching heat wave the weather forecasts warn about starts showing in shorter skirts, thinner clothes and dozens of pony tails bouncing from left to right. You wait at the meeting point, a small alley leading to an airsoft shop, when someone calls your name, and you look up, expecting to see Akira. He either went through a facial surgery during the last couple of days you haven’t seen him, or that man dressed in a cheap suit with a slim chin and sunken in cheeks approaching you right now is someone entirely different. Your brain fails to see how or why this guy knows your name, when he reaches you and grins like a maniac salesman trying to get rid of some shady goods.

    “Interested in making easy money? No questions asked, no names. Lots of cash.” A heavy hand lands on your shoulder, squeezing. It feels like a noose around your neck.

    This isn’t really happening, is it? Dumbfounded, you stare at his hand, then his face, outweighing the benefits of either punching or kicking him. Hookers offering girls jobs isn’t a rare thing in Shibuya, but in broad daylight? He’s either really desperate or really full of himself, but the little detail that makes everything a lot more absurd is that he knows your name and it sends cold shivers down your spine.

    “Okay, I’ll give you two seconds to take your hands off me, or I will put my shoe through your face,” you warn him, succeeding to sound a lot braver than you feel. Warning bells go off in your head when he doesn’t move. You shrug his hand off, and take one nice big step away, but he follows you and closes the distance like a magnet drawn to its opposite pole.

    “How the fuck do you know me,” you say, now unable to stop the panic from seeping into your voice. The man laughs; a sharp, unpleasant sound easily drowned in the buzzing chatter of people walking past the alley, totally unaware of what’s happening in there.

    “We know everything about you,” he says with a lazy smile, digging a bony finger just under your collarbone. “Your name, where you live. Unlucky for you, you’re all buddy buddy with the wrong people.”

    You don’t even know that many, and from those you call friends none strike you as people acquainted with the dark side of Tokyo. Which really makes you wonder how they even know about your existence in the first place.

    The man drags his eyes to a spot behind you, and when he leans in, you smell the sour odour of booze and nicotine. “Tell Kurusu he better has our Boss’s money ready due or he’ll find his friends’ numbers in our booking register.” With a greasy smile, he vanishes in the shadows between the skyscrapers, leaving you with spinning thoughts of What the fuck, what the fuck, what the actual fuck, until someone grabs your arm and yanks you out of the back alley. The worst scenarios run in high speed resolution through your head, but you gasp in relieve when you see it’s just Akira’s familiar face looming over you, quickly followed by a screeching “What the fuck?!” and a punch to his arm.

    At least Akira doesn’t look like he’s offended; no, it seems that he’s anticipated something like that, and you realise he must have seen you with the hooker.

    “What was that? What money? In what shady business are you involved?” There are too many questions, but Akira per usual talks too little to give you all the answers. Right now, he just looks over your head to where the man disappeared, and there’s something in his eyes you can’t read because it’s something you’ve never associated with Akira before: Danger. A shadow jumps across his eyes, dark enough to dim the grey, smooth surface and turn it into a charcoal storm. Somewhere in the back of your head you register his finger tips still pushing too hard into your skin, but the pain is swallowed by this intense feeling of anxiety and worry. Akira remains silent and pulls you deeper into the light flooded streets of Shibuya, where people laugh and enjoy their time regardless of what you’ve just been through.

    “Hey, can you talk to me?” you call to Akira, but he keeps his eyes trained on an invisible path before him, his mouth pressed into a thin, white line. “Hey, Kurusu.” You pull your arm back, he tightens his grip in return, and for the first time you wonder if he is choking on his secrets just as much as you are.

    “Kurusu,” you try again, then softer, “Akira.”

    Finally, he slows down and turns around. The fire in his eyes is gone, replaced by a dim light that is lost in the reflection of his glasses.

    “Come on.” It’s your turn to guide him now, gently pulling at his hand. You find a narrow alleyway with vending machines standing side by side like colourful soldiers. Armed with two canned coffees, you sit beside Akira on a narrow railing, and place the cool can on his thigh until he finally takes it from you. The silence grows into a palpable entity with fangs ready to strike, so you wait until Akira is ready to face it, lying to yourself that whatever he is going to tell you, it won't be that bad.

    After what feels like an eternity, Akira shifts slightly so his knees face towards you, and just like his body opens up to you, so does his mouth. “I kind of got into trouble with the yakuza,” he says with a suspicious lack of emotions. “And now they want three million yen until July 7th.”

    Somewhere behind you the beast growls, snarling how much better the silence has been in contrast to whatever this is. But then you realise it’s just a dog barking somewhere on the main street and you exhale slowly.

    “Okay, that is…” Insane, suicidal. “That’s crazy. What happened exactly?”

    Slowly, Akira raises his eyes. They’re hollow and send a shudder down your spine. “You have your secrets, and I have mine,” he declares.

    The way he’s staring at you, guarded and with a raised chin, his shoulders stiff like brittle marble ready to crumble at the tiniest collision, you can see he’s eagerly waiting for you to push him away. The only thing coming to your mind though is, “What kind of an answer is that? And no, don’t turn away from me!” You snatch his chin before he turns his head, digging a thumb into his skin just below his lower lip. Akira parts his lips in a little, silent O. “This is serious, so talk to me.”

    Akira considers you for a long moment, somehow perfectly holding still. The only movement comes from his tongue, quickly darting out to lick his lower lip, and you swallow a strange sound threatening to escape your throat.

    “You mean just like you talk to me?” he quietly shoots back, blowing a perfect hole in your composed mask. For a second, you’re speechless and your brain is completely void of any decent arguments to show him how those things are completely unrelated. But you’ve waited too long.

    The water named reason evaporated and now there’s no way to stop the fuse from burning down.

    “If you really think that this is the same as me—” you start, your heart throbbing painfully like a bird trying to escape; too loud, too hard, too much. Just faintly, you’re aware that it isn’t the tip of your thumb against his skin anymore, but your nail digging a sharp, crescent curve into his chin because your fingers are trembling. “— that this is really the same as me refusing to tell you about my parents abusing my brother, then you are wrong. Wrong, and very, very cruel, Akira.”

    All your breath leaves your lungs, while Akira’s becomes stuck in his throat. You pull your hand back like he’s burnt you, and on a metaphoric level, he has. You hate him for that, and you hate your body even more because after this, it doesn’t move. The anger overshadows your flight instinct and stays rooted like it wants to fight. You feel like throwing up.

    After a whole minute of silence, Akira finally manages a small, dreadful, “I’m sorry.”

    “Don’t tell me you’re sorry. Tell me what you did to make the yakuza go after you.”

    “I don’t want you getting involved,” he tries and fails to save the situation.

    “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but judging from what happened there, I am involved already. So, well done.”

    Akira pulls his face into a grimace close to a kicked man, left in his burning house without any means to extinguish the fire. It’s so typical for you to turn the play around, to become the one hurting others after being hurt. The feeling of guilt settling inside you isn’t unfamiliar, somehow even sharper this time. Akira leans away and breaks from your hold, running a free hand through his unruly hair. The soft tap tap tap of his foot against the pavement drives you insane.

    “That’s why I shouldn’t tell you more. I don’t want things to become worse,” he says and avoids looking at you.

    You cross your arms and lean against the cool wall, soaking in the feeling of some sort of grounding and security. “Well, it’s not like I’ll dive head first into some sort of rescue mission. I’m not a cop, and I certainly don’t have any means to get that much money.”

    Suddenly, Akira barks a horrible, humourless laugh. It’s like a jagged cut through the image you have of him as the boy you know at the moment. “And here goes my hope that you might be one of the Phantom Thieves, capable of helping me.”

    “Akira, stop joking about that,” you say, feeling your irritation return. “They’re not even real.” He shoots you a quick, strange glance, one you doubt you’d be able to decipher even if you had a dictionary solely dedicated to him. “So, are you going to tell me what happened or not?”

    You count until ten. Akira keeps staring at a crack on the ground in front of him, its junctions looking much like hands with claws. Just when you made peace with the fact that he won’t answer, Akira finally says, “Our Student Council President is my friend. In trying to do the right thing and help the school’s students, she got into trouble.” You swear if he’s going to say I just wanted to help, you will scream and rip his hair off. “And I just wanted to help,” he closes his vague story, but it’s still enough for you to get the broad picture. You’ve heard about the rumours regarding shady businesses involving high school students around Shibuya, but that the Shujin Academy might be one of the targeted schools hasn’t occurred to you at all— a very naive thought, now that you think about it.

    “I hope you do realise now that kindness is a double-edged sword,” you manage, working hard on controlling your breath. It’s just the perfect story fit for someone like Akira; for someone who gives too much and ends up ripped apart. Something that could just as easily happen to Narukami, now that you realise how alike they are, how they both put everyone else above them. Behaviour like this makes you so mad, you want to cry from frustration.

    Akira answers with a thoughtful hum. “Is it though?”

    “You’re not seriously trying to argue with me about that.”

    “I’m not. Maybe you’re right, but I don’t regret it.”

    You try to see the crack in his expression, just like the one on the ground. But Akira’s confidence is a solid wall unaffected by your prodding, and something about that positivity robs you of air.

    “Why am I not surprised,” you murmur, and to your surprise, Akira gives something close to a little earnest laugh.

    “Well, it isn’t the worst that happened to me because I was being nosy,” he admits, leaning back as well now. “But the yakuza, hm … I’m pretty sure that will look great on my resume.”

    “Please don’t even think about putting that in it.”

    Akira grins, but it’s short lived. He sits straighter, now looking very sternly at you, and you don’t like that look on his face. “Until it’s settled, maybe it would be best for you to avoid Shibuya. Also … maybe we … shouldn’t …” His voice gets quieter and quieter, and you know what he’s going to say next, but before Akira can finish his sentence, you quickly move on.

    “What exactly are you going to do?” you ask, the canned coffee long forgotten on the ground beside your feet and only brought back to your attention after you accidentally kick it when you lean forward. “Last time I checked, three million yen don’t just grow on trees.”

    “I have a plan,” Akira immediately replies, which makes warning bells go off in your head.

    “Please don’t tell me you’re going to rob a bank.”

    He gives you a crooked grin, part mirth, part malice, but it looks so fake     and forced, it makes you cringe. “I would never.”

    “Oh, Akira. What the hell is going on.”

    Akira answers with a heartbreaking smile. Moments like these make you forget how young Akira actually is. There’s something in his eyes that speaks of experience; in the straight line his mouth tightens into that speaks of hardship. It’s unfair, and you wish whatever happened to him could have waited a couple of years until he’d been ready for it. The ignorance towards a youth’s suffering should be a crime.

    “Don’t worry, it’s going to be alright,” he offers you at last, though it sounds more like he’s talking to himself. Your arms burn with the desire to give him a nice, tight hug, but you’re not sure if you’ve unlocked that ability in your confidant level yet, so instead you grab his hand and pull him to his feet.

    “Okay. You know what, I’m just going to trust you on this,” you say. At least the easiness of lying is something you’ve inherited from your dad. “But if you need a hand, you can give me a call.”

    Akira stares at you like you’ve grown a second head.

    “Yeah, just don’t think you’ll get rid of me that easily,” you say, stretching until your back pops. As weird as it is, somehow you feel a lot better than you maybe should. Akira looks at you with a strange expression, a mix between awe and horror.

    “Not gonna lie, I was ready to bet five thousand yen that you’d block my number and never talk to me again,” he says, sheepishly pulling at this bangs.

    “Bet?” Your eyebrows go up. “Who lost?”

    “Mor—,” he starts, but then shakes his head. “No, it’s just a figure of speech.”

    “Huh.” If you knew better, you’d think he was going to say— But no, that’s impossible.

    A quick glance down at your watch tells you that the movie has started already, and to be honest, you’re not really motivated to watch it anyway with all the incidents today. Actually, you’d really rather go home and sleep a night on everything you’ve just heard. Just as you want to say that to Akira, he’s suddenly looming above you, and you flinch back, trying to remember if you heard the tiniest sound of him approaching.

    “By the way, you got something on your neck,” Akira says, and before you can react, he’s leaning right into your personal space and rubs just above the spot where your turtleneck shirt barely covers the hickey Tadashi oh so graciously left the previous night, that prick. Your eyes widen and you give a pathetic sounds just as he notices that it’s not just some smudge, and slowly his hand falls back to his side.

    “Oh,” he says weakly, the sound strangely hollow. “It’s not a—”

    “No,” you say, uselessly covering it with a hand and turning your head away from him. The previous night drops down on you like a crushing waterfall, the phantom feeling of Akira's hands on your body and his piercing eyes telling silent stories you can only dream about. “It’s uhm …”

    “It’s a—,” Akira starts, but doesn’t finish. Instead he takes a step away from you and kneads the back of his neck. “I think I have to go.”

    “Oh.” Now you feel really stupid. “Yeah, I think me too.”

    “Okay.” Akira exhales slowly. “Yeah, okay. I’ll see you.”

    “Yeah,” you offer, but Akira has already turned around and left, his long legs carrying him with the speed of light out of the alley. You remain there a couple of seconds, just starring at the place he’s just been standing, trying not to think too hard about how your skin burns where his fingers just touched you. Your way home you label Walk of Shame.

    The door to your apartment is already unlocked. Which could mean means two things: Either Iori is broke again and is scavenging your fridge, or someone is desperate enough trying to rob a student’s place. With your phone in your hand ready to call the cops, like that’s something you needed additionally to today’s revelations, you open the door and carefully enter your apartment. The light is on. No sound comes from your kitchen, so it can’t be Iori, but once you’re inside and stand on the threshold to your living room, you wish it were him instead of the person sitting on your couch.

    “You wanted to talk?” your father says instead of a greeting. “Then let’s talk.”

[falcqns]

okay i know no one really asked for this but its a follow up to my post about Winter getting his own body, and how he is now that he is truly his own person!!

so he now has a body that he can actually use, but he is still super clumsy! i think this has to do with the fact that he was never taught how to walk, but i've seen Bucky straight up trip over air and face plant onto the ground, so he might get it from him.

im going to keep the format relatively the same as this post, so people can see what has changed, and what has stayed the same.

the bolded things are what has changed!

what he calls people:

me: Mama

Bucky: Dada

Steve: Papa

Tony: Uncle Tony (Tony isa pronounced like 'Ony, he can't say the T at the beginning of Tony's name for some reason.)

Natasha: Auntie Tasha (Auntie is pronounced Annie, again he cant say the t in auntie, but can say Tasha, makes no sense lol)

Wanda: Wana

Clint: Uncle Tint

Maria: Ria

Bruce: Uncle Bucey

Fury: Fuwy

Pepper: Annie Peppa (sometimes he calls her Peppa Pig)

favourite foods:

- popsicles (if given by Tony, he won’t take them from anyone else. Bucky hates him being given those)

- oatmeal

- toast

- spaghetti

- pancakes

- cheerios (plain cherrios, but plain cherrios are delicious so im not shaming him)

- poptarts (he screamed at Thor because he took a bite of his poptarts 😳)

- pizza with no sauce (honestly same)

- hotdogs (only boiled, and they have to be boiled by Papa [Steve] or he won't eat it)

- carrots and nutella (ok i have NO idea why he likes this so much, but it makes Bucky gag so hard when he has it. i've tried it and its okay, but not the best lmao)

favourite words:

- papa no

- dada no

- mama yes (hehe)

- i say no

- no ni ni

- nuggles/nuggies (snuggles)

- poop ( and i mean anything to do with poop. i asked him what he wanted for lunch and he told me poop on a stick)

-s'ime (slime)

favourite toys:

- teddy bear

- slime

- yogibo (Bucky likes this too)

- lava lamp (Bucky loves this)

- puzzles

- kinetic sand

- play dough

- perplexus (Both Bucky and Steve play with this lol)

- orbeez (these make Steve and Tony gag)

- fibre optic glacier light

- uncooked beans in a container

- chew toys (i find Bucky chewing on these too)

- squishmallows

- cold water

- his iPad

favourite thing to do with each person:

me: cuddles and reading/watching tv, sensory play, learning

Steve: playing outside

Bucky: playing, colouring, reading, sensory play, swimming, soccer practise (Bucky's his coach), playing outside.

Tony: sitting w him in the lab and playing with Dum E

Natasha: speech practise

Wanda: playing with her magic (likes to be flown around)

Clint: learning sign language (he’s teaching Bucky too)

Bruce: learning about medical things

Pepper: playing puppets, playing with Morgan

Peter: talking about movies he's seen, playing with stuffies, really loves it when Peter sticks him to the wall with his webs.

sensory things he loves:

- when his hair is half wet and half dry

- his hair being played with

- putting his hands in water (the sink, the pool, one time i found him with his hands in a freshly cleaned toilet)

- soft clothing

- squishy things

- nature textures (grass, bark, leaves)

- white noise

- Steve’s silk bedsheets that Tony made him buy (he nuzzles his face into it and falls asleep)

- slime and orbeez mixed together

- slime with foam beads

- knitted blankets

sensory things he HATES:

- leather

- jeans

- cold weather

- cold water (drinking water must be lukewarm or room temperature)

- meat (other than chicken)

- protein smoothies (all HYDRA fed him and Bucky)

- loud noises (he shrieks when Thor comes to earth)

if you have any questions about Winter, send me an ask and i’ll answer it!!