#on top of being the Go To Person for my coworkers to complain or figure out how they’re going to get everything done that needs doing

[lilyaceofdiamonds]

TFW the only thing getting you out of bed is that you can take more pain pills

[flemingsfreckles]

Physio’s Daughter pt.4

Jessie Fleming x Physio!Reader

Read the previous parts here

Warnings: a little cursing, a small bit of homophobia (it’s minor teasing by a child)

WC: 4.3k

A/N: I struggled with this part, so I do apologize for how long it took and that it’s shorter. There’s a lot of timeline jumps in this part just as a heads up. I know where the story is going to end up I’m just having a hard time making the plot to get it there.

It was Jessie’s fault your attempt at being just coworkers failed so quickly. It was only hours after you had said goodbye to her in the lobby of the training center when you received a notification on your phone.

_jessflem has requested to follow you

You smirked down at the notification. You knew she wasn’t big on social media so the follow felt intentional. You open your phone to accept her follow request and go to follow her back only to realize you already followed her. You also weren’t too keen on social media, you really didn’t have the time with school, but you found yourself in typical behavior with the other young adults your age, “stalking” Jessie’s page.

You scroll all the way to her last photo, it’s just a scenery shot. You look at it for a second before starting to scroll back up. Too frenzied with your scrolling you feel the phone vibrate in your hand slightly, the same way it vibrated if you liked a photo.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” you stop your scrolling, starting to slowly scroll backward to see that you had just liked a photo from 2020. Four years ago. It was one of her smiling, holding a soccer ball in her Chelsea training kit. She looked adorable.

Jessie Fleming: Doing a bit of stalking, are we?

The sound of your text notification making you jump in your otherwise silent apartment. Before you can even open the first text you receive a second.

Jessie Fleming: Do you stalk all your coworkers, or just the ones you’ve kissed?

You: Hard to say, I haven’t kissed any other coworkers, maybe I’ll have to kiss some other ones and see if it leads to stalking.

Jessie Fleming: Fair

You leave her text without a response. You had both agreed to be professional, this seemed like it was going to maybe be the opposite of you kept texting her.

You close Instagram and move from your couch into the kitchen. You were excited for your next few days to be off days. You planned to essentially do nothing but sit, watch trashy TV and do anything to keep your mind from wandering and thinking about Jessie. Moving to the fridge you get out some ingredients to make yourself chicken and pasta, it was easy but it also counted as a home cooked dinner so you couldn’t complain.

In the middle of digging through your cabinets for spices you get a knock on your door. Skeptical of who it may be, you move to the door slowly, looking though the peep hole. There stood your Mom, not someone coming to murder you, well, you’re not too sure on that you think.

You open the door to see her standing with a bouquet of flowers and a brown paper bag tucked under her arm.

“Can I come in?” She wasn’t exactly the person you wanted to be seeing right now but she was your Mom, so you extended you hand to take the bag and let her in.

“Are you here to yell at me again, because I’ve honestly had enough over the past couple of days to last a lifetime, I don’t need any more.”

“Don’t be a smartass,” she gently smacks the top of your head. “I’m actually here to apologize. Do you think I’d bring snacks and drinks if I was here to yell at you?”

“Maybe you brought them to flaunt in my face while you yelled at me.”

Your Mom rolls her eyes at you and begins digging through the bag she brought. She gets out some candies that she knew you loved, some popcorn, a bottle of wine, and a 6 pack of beers.

“Is this your peace offering?” You ask as you grab the bag of sweets, opening it and popping one in your mouth.

“I don’t know if I’d consider it a peace offering just yet but I wanted to at least talk, I figured I could start making amends with snacks.”

“Okay.”

“Look, I’m not really sorry for what I said, I said it for a reason and I stand by what I said.” She lets out a breath. “But I am sorry for how I said it though. I treated you like a child, that was unprofessional, you’re an adult and should be treated that way at work at least. Unfortunately, I’m your mom, so you’ll always be my little girl. And in this circumstance I was frustrated with you as a mom and as a coworker.”

“Why were you frustrated with me as a mom?” You understood the coworker, but the thought of you disappointing your Mom hurt a bit, you hadn’t realized you had upset her as a daughter.

“I don’t know if frustrated is the word I guess. It’s just weird seeing your daughter being defiled against the wall by another person especially at work when it’s with her coworker who she told you nothing was happening with.” Your blush comes back and you look down at your drink before taking a large swing, not wanting to think about your Mom walking in on you and Jessie.

“How many times do I have to tell you she wasn’t defiling me, it was just a kiss.”

“I don’t really care what she was doing to you, the less I know the better.” You Mom holds her hands up stopping you. “I am sorry I made a scene in your office about it. That was inappropriate on my end.”

“Thank you.” You take another sip. The two of you stood in silence around your kitchen table. This was going to be a long night.

It was nearly an hour later, you were drinking through your fourth beers and your Mom was working through her third heavy pour of wine. You could tell you were both feeling the effects of the drinks and it was likely your Mom would be spending the night. You felt your phone buzz in your lap and you looked down to see Jessie’s name again.

Jessie Fleming: sorry if I made it weird with my text from before, I promise only to be professional from now on.

You feel yourself smiling at the text, something about the idea that she thought about you again to text you made you feel warm and fuzzy. Unfortunately, with the alcohol in your system you did a worse job at hiding your emotions than you thought.

“Ohhhhh, look at you smiling at your phone, let me guess is a certain Canadian captain texting you?” Your mom teases from the other side of the couch. Her foot giving your leg a tap.

“Mom please.” While you tried to deflect her comment it was obvious by your smile that she was right about who had texted you and she knew she was right. You didn’t want to have to sit here with your tipsy mother and her comments about you and Jessie. Thankfully she stays quiet for a few minutes with the two of you not speaking.

“This is maybe the wrong way to go about this, but I’m trying really hard to be your Mom, not your coworker, so, tell me about her? Pretend I don’t already know her, pretend you’re telling me about just a crush from school or something.”

“Mom, we don't have to do this.”

“Oh come on, indulge me, I miss it. I remember when you were a little girl and you would come home telling me about the pretty girls in your class, and then in fourth grade someone told you that you couldn’t find other girls pretty.” You cringe at that memory. Some boy had overheard you saying how you thought another little girl in your class was beautiful and he had told you it was gross for boys to think boys were cute and for girls to find girls cute. Unfortunately that little shit’s comments stuck with you through your whole life, impacting you heavily as a child.

“And so then you only ever came home talking about boys, but I could tell it wasn’t quite the same as how you felt toward the pretty girls. And then when you were 17 you came to me to tell me about the pretty girl you had a crush on and I was so proud of you and excited that that stupid boy didn’t change you. And then since you’ve moved out for school I got to hear snippets over the phone about dates but it’s not the same. So indulge me. Tell me about her as you would any other girl.”

“But you do know her, Mom.” Still hesitant to have this conversation about Jessie, it was easy when your Mom didn’t know the other person.

“Does she have a job? Does she have aspirations? Where’s she from?” She ignored your comment and starts firing off questions.

You let out a small giggle as you take another drink, your Mom was always one to interrogate you about girls you talked about, it was just funny the way she was pretending she didn’t know Jessie.

You fell into conversation with your Mom for a bit. She’d ask questions, pretending to be oblivious to the fact that you were talking about Jessie. You answered, the small trace of beer in your system making you care slightly less, also knowing that your Mom had had her fair share of wine.

You told her about your conversations with Jessie, ones from all the hours you two spent secluded in the training rooms. You told her about your mutual aspiration for travel, how you’d talked about school, she taught you what she learned as an engineer in school, you talked about her family, her family dogs, all the tiny details you could remember about Jessie.

The more you talked about her, the more you watched your mothers face change. Originally looking a little uncomfortable when you talked about Jessie but now she was grinning back at you.

“You actually like her don’t you?”

“Obviously.” You huff throwing your arms up.

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you just thought she was hot and you wanted to hookup with a professional athlete .”

“Mom!” You can feel your cheeks start to heat up.

You both fall into silence, your Mom finishing off her glass of wine and you staring at the ground thinking about everything you just said to your Mom.

“I forgot to say this earlier but I’m also sorry I accused you of lying to me.”

“It’s fine Mom, really don’t worry about it.”

Your Mom stands from the couch with a yawn. “Guest room made up by chance?” You nod at her. It wasn’t really a guest room, more of a den in your apartment that you had made an office with a bed in the corner.

Before she left to go to bed she moved over to you, placing her hands on your shoulders.

“Kiddo?” You cringe at the childhood nickname, looking up at her. “I’m not going to tell you to do anything with Jessie, but, you’re stubborn and I know you will. So just please, if you two decide to take your relationship anywhere, just be adults about it. Don’t let it affect work, don’t let it mess up her playing, don’t sneak around. If you want to be adults, act like it, tell the people who need to know.”

“We already talked, nothings going to happen.”

“I know you think that, but when the two of you see each other for almost 2 months straight, I think it’ll maybe be hard to keep it that way. I’d still advise you two to avoid each other as much as you can, keep it professional, that's the right choice in my eyes. But, unfortunately my more realist advice, wait until the Olympics are over when you’re no longer associated with the team and you’re back at school. You don’t want to be accused of the team’s downfall because Fleming is too busy staring off at her own trainer to make a decent pass.” With that she walks away from you, placing her glass in the sink and wandering to the den.

You knew most likely your Mom seemed to be okay with you and Jessie once you were no longer a trainer was just the wine talking and she’d go back to normal in the morning but for now you’d take it. You put your own bottle in the recycling and head into your bedroom. You consider texting back Jessie but decide against it as you plug your phone in and set an alarm for the next morning.

The next morning you wake up and make your way into the kitchen finding a note from your mom saying she left early, she loved you and she’d see you soon.

You grabbed a pan from the kitchen and opened the fridge to find eggs and started making yourself breakfast.

The sound of your phone ringing causes you to jump and let out a yelp, nearly dropping the egg you were cracking. Turning around you grab your phone, seeing Jessie’s name across the screen. You debate not answering, but maybe she needed you for work reasons, so you answer.

“Hello?”

“Should I be scared that your Mom tried to call me yesterday?”

You hadn’t expected that to be her first words. “She what?”

“Yeah, I didn’t answer, I was still trying to get home but she called me, no voicemail, no text, just a missed call. So I’m asking, is she still out for my head because of us?”

“There’s no us, but probably not? I don’t know. She showed up unexpectedly at my place last night to apologize for how she yelled at me.”

“That’s good, right?”

“I guess? I mean she’s still pretty upset, but she apologized for treating me unprofessionally. So maybe she wanted to apologize to you too, I’m not sure.”

“Oh.”

“She also asked about you.” There’s silence on the other end, you pull the phone back to check that the call hadn’t ended.

“Hello?” You stirred your eggs.

“Hi.” Jessie’s voice comes through clearly.

“Oh I thought you maybe hung up.”

“No.” There’s another pause. “What did she ask?”

“Everything I guess? She had maybe a few too many sips of wine.” You let out a small laugh. “She told me to talk to her about you as if she didn’t know you. It was something we used to do when I was a kid. I’d sit and tell her every detail about the boys or girls I liked.” You turn around to lean against the kitchen table.

“That’s sweet that she wanted to do that with you.”

“Yeah.” It’s now you leaving a long silence. “It could’ve been the wine talking but she was less mad I think, she even suggested we just wait until the Olympics are over to figure out what it is between us.”

You hear a sigh come through the phone. “I thought we agreed to be professional.”

“We did.”

“No offense but telling me that your Mom suggested we figure out something after the Olympics isn’t really professional at all, it’s only going to get in my head.” Her voice now sounding upset and frustrated.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry Jessie.” You’re not sure why you’re really apologizing, all you did was tell her what she wanted to know.

“It’s fine, I gotta go.” She rushes her sentence.

With that the line went dead and you stared back at your phone you could see your reflection in the black screen. The whole conversation ran through your head again. She had seemed excited that you talked to your Mom about her, but maybe you misunderstood. Jessie’s mood had taken such a sharp negative turn at the end, when you mentioned the possibility of post Olympics.

You open your texts, and start typing.

Hey, that was weird, sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I just thought we were maybe still doing the friendly flirting given you brought up our kiss yesterday.

You erase the message. Locking your phone and turning back to see your eggs burnt, just starting to smoke.

“Shit shit shit.” You rushed over grabbing the pan and turning off the burner. Too frustrated first with Jessie’s confusing behavior and then with your ability to burn the easiest breakfast, you decide to grab a book and sit outside hoping you wouldn’t have to think about reality for a while.

The rest of your day was easy, you sat outside reading two whole books and also getting incredibly sunburnt in the process. The thought of sunscreen completely slipping your mind. You were able to not think about school, or your mom, or work, or Jessie, or the Canadian team at all.

The next three days played out the exact same, except with sunscreen this time. It was good, you genuinely got a break, from school, from work, and from life. It was great. Everything was going well, you had managed to not think about Jessie most of the day, until you went to bed and your phone notification popped up, reminding you of tomorrow’s responsibilities.

Calendar: Physio Team Meeting 8:00

Calendar: Meeting w/ J.Fleming 10:00

Calendar: Travel Paperwork Meeting 13:15

You had been excited to see her, that was until your weird shared phone call 3 days ago. It had been radio silence between the two of you since, you never texted her and she never reached out. Not that you expected her to, but it would’ve been nice to hear from her.

Your morning was quick, opting to just eat at the facilities instead of waking up early to make your own breakfast. You met your mom in the parking lot and the two of you walked into your first meeting together. It was general information for the upcoming schedule. The players were set to come back in 3 weeks for 5 days, the team would then travel to Paris to get settled before starting play later that week. It was going to be a busy 3 weeks before the team came back, everyone being given various tasks and responsibilities to oversee in the meantime. Yours as you had already been told was to keep Jessie in the loop with her teammates, as well as keeping up with her teammates themselves.

And that’s what you did at 10:00. You got onto your computer joining a call that was supposed to be you, Jessie, and Sarah, one of the other physio’s who was supposed to be the professionalism buffer. Unfortunately she had other things that took priority which left just you and Jessie.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“Um Sarah isn’t coming, she has some other things to take care of that we’re more important than babysitting me in this meeting.” You feel your palms sweating, wiping them on your pants.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. So we can get into it here-” you start to pull up a spreadsheet with information on each of the roster’s players. You didn’t feel like doing the small talk with her right now.

“Really quick, I wanted to apologize.” You stop messing with the document on your screen and look over to where the box with Jessie’s face was. “About that phone call, I made it weird, I think I just got a little, I don’t know, maybe overwhelmed, so I’m sorry.”

“Oh it’s fine.”

“It wasn’t fine, it wasn’t okay for me to be unprofessional when I texted you earlier and then get upset with you for doing the same.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” It was nice that she apologized but it still didn’t provide much of an explanation as to what happened.

The rest of your meeting goes as planned, you walk through every roster member, their current status, if they’re back playing at club yet, if so how many minutes they got in matches, all the details.

“How are you? You’re the only one we haven’t gone through.”

“I’m good.”

“I need more information than that Jessie, come on.”

“I’ve been sleeping better, obviously being in my own bed not a hotel helps, I’ve been a little stressed at Portland, things just aren’t connecting there so the playing has been stressful too. But I’ve been playing full 90’ still and the calf is treating me well.”

“Thank you, I’m glad to hear about your calf.” You can’t help but smile, thinking that your work and knowledge actually helped Jessie return to playing like herself. You type in the information she tells you into your document and then save the file and close it, bringing Jessie face to fullscreen on your computer.

“Alright, I guess we’re all done here then.”

“I actually had one more thing.”

“Oh! Sorry I should’ve check if you were done. Just let me open up my file again, hang on, sorry about that.”

“No, it’s not for the file.” There’s a pause, you just look at her on the screen. She’s looking down and you’re pretty sure playing with her hands, the way she does when she’s nervous.

“Can we please be friends? I’ve been wanting to text you about books I read, or cool travel locations I’ve seen. I wanted to text you that I saw a family of deer the other day and it reminded me of you telling me about the deer in your childhood backyard. But you told me we couldn’t even be friends, so I've been respecting that. But I want to be able to tell you those things, so if there’s any way we could be friends, it can still be professional, but friendly, I’d really like that.” Her sentence is rambling and you could tell she clearly had prepared to ask you but somewhere along the lines was just saying whatever came to her head.

What caught your attention was that she thought of the small 3 sentence story you had told her days ago about your childhood backyard. The backyard where you and your mom used to watch the deer run and graze. She remembered that tiny detail that you told her. It made your heart sing that she remembered.

“We can be friends.” You say with a smile knowing in the back of your head that there would be no way you’d be able to stay just friends with the beautiful girl who was now grinning back at you.

“Yay!” It was such a sweet response, her face lighting up. “Okay I’ll see you next week, same time?”

“Yeah Jessie, thanks, I’ll see you then.” She hangs up the call. You only have a minute in your office in silence before a series of texts come in.

Jessie Fleming: since we’re friends now

Jessie Fleming: look at the deer

Jessie Fleming: 2 Images

You look at the images, one was a photo of three deer, one being a baby, all standing in tall grass, the sun a golden yellow cascading on them. The next photo was a closer shot of the fawn. The pictures looked like someone from National Geographic took them, the detail, lighting, all of it.

You: did you take those photos?

Jessie Fleming: yes

You: wow

You: maybe I’ll have to bring you along on my future travels to be the photographer

Jessie Fleming: I definitely wouldn’t mind that

That was all it took, a simple conversation and two photos of deer to start the friendship between you and Jessie. A friendship that quickly snowballed into what was flirtatious, teasing, sweet, but overall borderline inappropriate for a working relationship. But you didn’t care, it was easy. Over those next three weeks the banter and friendship with Jessie grew and grew, the late nights texting that turned into late nights on FaceTime with the older girl, it felt harmless being that you were so far away from her.

The reality of what you two had developed only set in when it was three weeks later and you were standing in the physio room as players started filing in for the first training session before traveling to Paris.

Jessie walked in, looking around before her eyes caught yours. Her face lit up and you knew yours did too. You felt butterflies in your stomach. She gives you a smile and a quick flash of a smirk as she walks in the other direction going to say hello to the other staff first. She greets them all, you patiently wait, pretending not to be watching her as you restock bandaids in a drawer. But you were, out of the corner of your eye you couldn’t help but watch her move around the room, your heart rate picking up speed as she would move closer and closer with each person she said hello to.

“I saved the best for last.” You hear her soothing voice behind you.

You turn and she’s standing in front of you arms out as she had done to the other staff. You step toward her, wrapping your arms around her waist as she wraps around your shoulders. You wonder how she smells so good for someone who just got off an airplane and a bus ride, but somehow she does.

“I’ve missed you.” Her lips are against your ear and her voice is quiet to not allow anyone else to hear.

“I missed you too.” You whisper back to her. You pull away, catching your Mom’s eye over Jessie’s shoulder. She gives you a tight lipped smile and a small shake of her head.

“Do you need anything?” You offer Jessie, pointing to an open table where she could sit if she wanted her calf or anything else worked on. You don’t miss how at first she doesn’t verbally answer you, instead her eyes move from your face, down your entire body, then back up, her eyes taking an extra second on your lips before returning to meet your eye contact. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, biting her lip softly.

“Nope, I’m good.” She gives you a smile, you can see her cheeks have a slight red blush but you ignore that.

She turns and walks away, Janine catching her on the way out. You watch as the two appear to argue for a second before Janine slaps the back of Jessie’s head softly. Jessie returns the favor and smacks Janine’s arm as they keep moving down the hallway. Just before they hit the corner Janine turns back to look at you, you make eye contact for a second and she raises her eyebrows at you. Not knowing what that means or what to do you just turn back to putting bandaids, tape, and gauze back where they belong.

It was going to be a long 6 weeks with the team.

[transgressivegirlification]

sorta. learning how to separate my gender from how other people perceive and treat me. that and separating my gender identity from gender performance and the idea that i have to DO anything or have any specific trait to be a woman

i dunno. if gender describes your relationship to society and your relationship to your body and sex characteristics, then there is an expectation to perform specific roles based on your relationship to your body, which is pretty wierd and we could probably do without that. so, i guess in that sense, im a gender abolitionist

i don’t consider myself a woman because i was assigned female at birth, i consider myself a woman because it describes my relationship to my body. i don’t consider my (de)transition a return because i don’t remember what it was like to live as someone who was perceived as a girl and i’ve never been perceived as a woman, just a feminine trans person (and only online, offline i’m treated as an autistic cis man) so i’m having to figure out what my womanhood means to me for the first time instead of having it just given to me or something i had at some nebulous ~before~

but it’s. i don’t think being a woman means you have to be feminine in any meaning of the word. i don’t think i have to be seen as a woman to be one. i don’t even think i have to dislike masculine terms being used for me. i also don’t think that not conforming to the expected presentations of my gender makes me nonbinary. (nb people are chill i am just tired of being degendered in trans* spaces and having people making a big deal over my gender/pronouns because i don’t “look like” my gender)

i’m just a woman with a deep voice and body hair and broad shoulders and facial hair and an adam’s apple and a strong brow. i’m just a woman that wears clothing made for men and who wears binders instead of bras most of the time. i’m just a woman who wears makeup only once or twice a year and who doesn’t do anything centered around anti-aging. none of that makes me less of a woman, it just makes me less feminine which is fine

femininity is nice but a lot of it is either based on making women more consumable to men or just isn’t ideal for a construction worker. like. i love lolita fashion but it is not remotely osha approved. i can barely get away with tying my jacket around my waist lmafo

and i mean. i like men. 90% of my coworkers are men and i generally fuck with them. i’m also promised to a man who is my priority in life.

but at the same time, i’m not going to go out of my way to be appealing to men or even think about it in my day to day life because i’m a person who enjoys men, not a perfume ad. yeah i dress up for dates and enjoy when my promised finds me attractive but being desirable isn’t the same as being consumable. when i perform femininity for my promised, he enjoys the show but sees me as an actor instead of a character if that makes sense?

i dunno. i love being feminine in over the top ways that make me feel powerful and confident but it’s… a lot to do outside of the context of conventions (shout out to conventions for giving me a way to explore new presentations in public without being afraid of getting hate crimed fr)

i guess for me it feels wierd to be a woman almost exclusively attracted to men because so much of how people talk about wlm is centered around the man’s attraction to the woman or the woman making herself attractive to the man when i center myself in my attraction to men. i generally don’t think about making myself attractive to a man i’m not actively going on a date with, i think about what i want to do to him and what he could do for me. yeah it’s a little selfish but nobody’s complained yet B;)

tl;dr: i’m still a woman when i fulfill male stereotypes. femininity as a way to feel powerful, pretty, and/or desirable is nice. femininity as a set of rules pushed on women for the purpose of centering men’s consumption and dehumanization of women in their expression of feminine womanhood is shitty

[offbranddrpepsi]

Beloved

Pairing: Chamber X Fem!Reader

Status: Oneshot

Ao3 link: here

Rating: SFW, Fluff Length: 2,230 words

Request: Could you perhaps do a chamber x wife reader wherein Chamber hasn't seen his wife in a few months due to his spot in Valorant. So reader decides to come visit him. Just a bunch of Fluff basically, it'd also be funny to see the other agents reaction to Learning Chamber was married ^^

Fic below -------------------------------------------------------------------

You slaved away in the kitchen, making a meal for one as you had been for the past several months. Your husband had been away for a while on some business trip. What exactly he was doing he didn’t tell you, saying he couldn’t without his supervisors approval. It frustrated you how often he was leaving lately, but when you had married the weapon designer you knew exactly what you were signing up for so you couldn’t complain much. Vicent told you as much as he could when it came to work and you appreciated that. You were told more than most given you were the person who held his unwavering trust, but he did still keep things from you. His current side job was one of those things he rarely talked about and you knew near nothing of. You figured it had to have been some PMC or mercenary work, something far too dangerous for you to even want to be involved in. Your safety was his number one priority so it only made sense he would keep something dangerous on the down low, probably trying to not worry you about his safety as well. Just as your food finished, a sad meal of premade soup, you heard the front door open. Bouncing with excitement you rushed to peak your head around the corner, hoping to see your much awaited husband. There he stood looking worn out and disheveled, even an absolute mess the sight of him made your heart swell. “Chérie, (darling)” He called out, obviously not seeing you from behind the corner. “Je suis à la maison (I’m home.)”  Rushing out you wrapped your arms around his midsection, burying your face in his chest. With a small laugh he placed his arms around you, kissing the top of your head. He was reeked of sweat and his suit sported several tears, whatever he had been doing really put him through the ringer. Looking up you were met with a soft but exhausted kiss, his eyes looking absolutely drained of life. “Are you alright? You look awful,��� You went to take his bag as you usually did but he stopped you, putting a hand up. “I will be fine, do you happen to have a suitcase ready?” He spoke as softly as he normally did with you, keeping his composure despite obvious dismay. “Um I can in fifteen minutes, why?” Normally when he returned you spent the following days together, making up for the lost time it was strange to go on a trip. Maybe he wanted a vacation from everything after a rough job? “There is a situation so for the time being I do not want you leaving my side,” Shuffling you to your bed room he helped you pack a quick go bag, continuing to explain as he did so. “I have gotten permission to bring you to meet my coworkers and stay at their facility until everything is resolved.” Quickly packing you nodded along, mildly excited at meeting the people who stole him away so often but a bit anxious given how serious everything seemed. As you finished up your packing you found Vincent already putting his shoes on about to leave, a frown covering your face. “You will be picked up tomorrow, I apologize but I'm needed urgently.” Coming to give him a hug you pouted but knew it wouldn’t be long before you saw him again. “je t'aime tellement (i love you so much)” He spoke against your lips as he kissed you deeply, you returning the sentiment. He ducked out and you went to finish your now cold soup before hurrying to bed so you were ready in the morning. The next morning you were met by a car that took you to a landing pad, a military grade vulture waiting for you. The ride was fast and you were the vehicle's only passenger, making the ride still a tad lonely. Arriving at some sort of island you were ushered inside and left to your own devices, taking in the high tech building with awe. There was a tap on your shoulder that caused you to turn, a woman with white hair looking at you confused, “Um, who are you? Are you lost or something?” She sounded young and was very expressive as she spoke, her confusion only being more evident. You remember Vincent mentioning that, should you ever have to talk to his coworkers, you should use his alias rather than actual name. “I’m (Y/N), I’m Chamber’s wife? I was told I was expected here?” Her face turned to one of shock then excitement  as she bounced into the air, clearly showing she was a radiant. “You’re kidding me, Mr. Fancy pants has a wife?!” She said with glee. “I’ve got to tell Neon she won’t believe this, wait I should show her, are you okay meeting a few people? We all work with your husband so it should be fine!” “Um, okay?” with that she grabbed your hand and zipped you off to a common area where many more people sat playing a video game. Some of them waved hellos at her, you learning her name was Jett, while everyone else just kind of looked at you with confusion. “Jett what ya got there? New recruit?” A taller man with a blue streak through his hair approached you, eyeing you intensely. “She looks weak, she a radiant?”

“I’m (Y/N) and no i'm not a radiant,” You spoke for yourself, being annoyed at being called weak as well as treated like you weren’t there. “I’m actually looking for whoever’s in charge, i was told i was expected and right now it’s looking like i wasn’t”

“I can go get Sage, Brim’s out on another mission.” A darker skinned woman stood and stretched, adjusting the hat on her head as she walked towards you. “Who are you anyways, like past your name and stuff.” “She’s Chamber’s wife!” Jett excitedly exclaimed in an almost shout. The room grew silent as all their eyes turned to you, equal looks of shock and surprise painting their faces. The next twenty minutes were spent verifying that yes you were in fact married to the Frenchman, confirming you weren’t a spy, and going around hearing the disbelief that Vincent could keep down anyone let alone a wife. It was a bit amusing how they all reacted to this new knowledge, it seemed your husband told everyone else next to nothing when it came to his personal life. “I didn’t even know he was capable of being not obnoxious,” spoke the blue haired woman you’d come to know as Neon. “ it ruins his whole image knowing he managed to get someone to marry him.” “Oh he didn’t get me to marry him,” You corrected. “I proposed to him, he’s too picky to pick out a ring or date so I just decided I would ask him instead of waiting forever.” The room seemed to break out in shared amusement, starting to ask you questions about your engagement and wedding. How you proposed wasn’t flashy and was exactly the opposite of how your husband would have done it. You managed to pull him along to the park where you’d met, him complaining about your dinner reservations despite you making sure there was ample time between the two events.  Distracting him by jogging his memory of your first meeting, which was less than glamorous as he literally fell over you while you were sketching ducks, you got the simple gold and black ring out. To say he was surprised was an under-statement. He called and canceled your reservations then decided to just spend time with you there in the park, both a smile and a dusting of pink never leaving his face. He had later informed you how impressed he was you managed to keep the whole thing a secret from him while also being amused you beat him to the punch. Your wedding was as low key as your engagement as you had convinced Vincent you didn’t want something lavish or expensive, all you wanted was him and the moment. The man was incredibly sentimental, at least when it came to you, so he allowed it with the promise you’d let him at least design the event. It was funny watching him wedding plan and getting everything together but he did make the day memorable and special without a hint of the flashiness he was known for. The girls were in a mix of awe and disbelief as you retold everything, being sure to leave out any personal details such as locations or dates. The guys however were mostly attentive but few held any expressions the girls did, one of the only ones being Phoenix. “That is, that’s really romantic. It’s a shock Chamber could do something like that,” Phoenix sounded soft and sweet, the boy probably enjoying this sort of thing. “It’s a shock I could what?” The voice of your husband called out from the doorway, interjecting himself in the conversation. He placed an arm around you as you sat on a stool, giving you a small smile before he turned back to everyone else. “Have a heart, get married, date someone, plan a wedding; ya’ know normal things.” Neon spoke up sarcastically to which you felt your husband stiffen. Suppressing a laugh at his annoyed facial expression you stood, his arm finding your waist. “Um, shouldn't we be heading over to meet um, Brimstone and Sage right?” You looked as Jett who sat perched on a counter, her giving you a nod that you had gotten their names correct. Vincent pulled you along out of the room, you waving at the group as you left. His grip on your waist tightened as you approached an office, him turning to speak to you before you entered. “They treated you well I'm assuming?” He sounded still annoyed but concerned. “Yes, they were all really nice! It’s good to know you keep up the whole stuffy fancy guy face at work,” You let yourself laugh which only caused his annoyed expression to grow worse. Rolling his eyes he opened the office door for you, letting you step in before him as he always did. Inside the room were two women and a man, all of them looking vastly different. “Chamber is this her?” A woman with long black hair spoke, her voice soft and pleasant. “She’s lovely, I hope the other agents didn’t give her too much trouble.” “From what she says they were more than pleasant company,” Vincent spoke before motioning a hand to you. “(Y/N) this is Sage, Viper, and Brimstone. This is my wife (Y/N), I am glad I was able to formally introduce you all despite the less than ideal circumstances.” “It’s nice to meet you,” the other woman, who you now knew was Viper, came forward and shook your hand. “I’m Viper, one of the founders of this organization. I will admit I was surprised when I heard that Chamber had a wife so it's good to know he wasn’t lying about that.” You snorted after shaking her hand, covering your mouth to muffle your laugh. It was hilarious the image they had of him and how open everyone was with voicing it, you taking note of each comment to pick on Vincent later. “I'm Brim, It’s nice to meet you and I hope you enjoy your time here. If anyone gives you trouble let me know and I'll handle it.” The man spoke, sounding relaxed but a bit bored. “We can get you introduced to Cypher in a bit, he’s the one who suggested this arrangement.” You’d heard that name before from your husband, the broker was on somewhat tense terms with him so it was odd to learn he advocated for you to say the least. Being escorted out and away to a room to set your things you decided to ask Vincent about it. “Why would Cypher suggest I stay here? I thought he didn’t like you.” You plopped down on the bed, taking your shoes off. “He does not, but he values one thing above all else and that is family,” He responded matter of factly, putting away your things for you before coming to join you. “All i had to do was mention how worried i was about our current enemy going after you and he pulled all the strings i needed.” “So you played to his heart?” You asked as he settled and pulled you to lay down, arms circling around you in a tight hug. “You weren’t even worried were you?” “I was,” He admitted, removing his glasses and closing his eyes. “But no more than I usually am when I leave you. I was, as you like to put it, needy and wanted my wife, is that too much to ask.” Laughing at his obvious poking at you, you shut him up with a kiss before settling down to chat about the period you were apart. Eventually Vincent had dozed off mid sentence, his exhaustion finally taking him. You didn’t join him in sleep for some time, plotting your next move to get to know his coworkers more and maybe be able to come by in the future without having your husband manipulate people.

[seat-safety-switch]

In recent months, the local authorities have become irate at a group of folks. These folks – the same as you or I – have figured out that since all the office buildings downtown became abandoned in the midst of The Cataclysm, they might as well move in. As long as they stay out of the way of the roving security guards, there's electricity, heat, plumbing, a roof over your head, and thin drywall inside which to stuff away food. For free. These squatters lived the dream of us all, and now the 5-0 want to make them pay for it.

The problem starts in getting caught. Statistically, if you have a few hundred people doing something all at once, eventually one of them is going to land on a security guard who notices that there's a flushing sound coming from the bathroom on the 16th floor. And most of those security guards can't be bribed, especially not with eccentric woodcarvings or leftover wrappers of the Snickers bars that were abandoned inside white-collar-worker desks.

Once someone finally got caught, of course the word went out to the other security guards. You better check a little more closely, maybe pay attention to whether that weird sound is a raccoon or some guy sleeping on top of a Polycom. Big-league crackdown, dozens in jail. And for what? It's not like these big corporations were ever going to return to these offices, not unless someone with real power, like Susan in Accounting, complained that she was sad about no longer being able to see/infect her coworkers every day.

That's why me and a bunch of other people who have seen the movie Spartacus decided to act like the main character, Dalton Trumbo. Using sophisticated thermoptic camouflage suits stolen from the nearby armoury, we infiltrated every major commercial low-to-medium-rise in the downtown area in the middle of the night. Then, at the precise opening of business, we disabled the camouflage, which convinced building owners (and cops) that everyone had returned to the office, and that the people they thought were poorly-dressed homeless psychopaths were in fact just relatively harmless graphic designers. Cosplaying as a person with an actual job was very exciting for a little bit, but my role was getting too intense and I had to stop.

Why? I was coming up on the 45-minute mark of a fake scrum standup meeting when I realized that I was now day-dreaming of one day purchasing an Aston Martin with my imaginary stock options. The lure was so corruptive that, for a brief, terrifying moment, I forgot completely about the existence of the 1990 Toyota Kijang.

[uvobreakmylegs]

Retrieval

I just wanted to write some gross shit sorry

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, death, graphic imagery, gore, blood, degradation, threats of violence

A trio of very intoxicated men stumbled out of the front door of the bar followed by you. You held the door open for a second as you called out to the men to have a good night and to come back soon, but before you could give any of them a chance to respond you had shut the door and locked it, the bell on the door jingling above you. Maybe you weren't being too subtle about wanting them to leave already so you and your coworker could clean up the place, but at the moment you couldn't say you cared too much. It was after midnight and you wanted to go home.

Your coworker, Corey, chuckled at you from the entryway to the kitchen.

“Not very professional of you.”

“Because people like that are coming to a sports bar for professionalism and not to get drunk off of their asses,” you answered, grabbing a bucket and rag to begin with wiping down the tables.

“It's on you if they call back to complain,” he teased.

You laughed.

“Like any of them will be able to remember when they wake up tomorrow.”

“Guess you got a point there.”

You hummed in agreement, wiping down the wooden seats of the chairs before glancing back to him; Corey was still standing in the doorway, checking something on his phone.

“Are you going to clean up back there or are you expecting me to do it for you?” you teased him.

Corey held up his hands in mock surrender before he disappeared back to the kitchen.

The small sports bar you worked at always got pretty messy, both inside the kitchen and out. Food crumbs, wet stains from spilled drinks and small things like loose change, wads of gum and people's small personal items littered the dark carpeted floor. The tables and chairs were usually in a similar state in terms of the food and drink residue. At least you had never needed to clean the bathrooms.

Moving from table to table, you would wipe the surfaces clean, letting the mess on top fall to the floor before you set the chairs upside down on top of the table. Whatever had ended up on the floor you'd get with the vacuum later. It was time consuming and monotonous, but there was a weird part of you that got a certain satisfaction of being able to return the dining area back to a clean state, even if it would be all ruined by the next evening.

Even if it was stupid, at least you actually had the freedom to do what you liked no matter how stupid it was.

Corey was playing something on his phone in the kitchen; knowing him, it was probably some new podcast he had gotten into. The noise you could hear from the back was drowned out when you turned on the vacuum cleaner, trying in vain to clean up everything on the floor. You really wished the owners would take the time and money to replace the carpet with some hardwood; it would make cleaning up easier and would just look nicer.

The bar was always last because it wasn't usually that bad and you could get away with a not so thorough job as you tried to finish up before your shift ended. Corey was almost always done with the kitchen at this point and would be ready to mop the floor after you wiped down the counter.

As expected, Corey was waiting in the kitchen doorway with the mop bucket right next to him when you made it to the bar counter.

“Any plans after you get off?” he asked.

“Sleep,” you answered.

“You sure lead an exciting life,” he said jokingly.

“It's going to be after one in the morning soon; what kind of plans could I have?”

“I don't know. Figured maybe you'd have a boyfriend waiting for you or something.”

Boyfriend.

That word brought back some unpleasant memories. Of things you wanted to forget, and what you had run away from all those months ago.

You tried not to show it, but Corey seemed to pick up on the way you tensed at that.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I'm fine,” you told him hastily, “not in the dating scene currently. I needed a break.”

He nodded slowly.

“Gotcha.”

You couldn't say that the two of you were particularly close, having only known each other a little less than a couple of months, but you did appreciate that he understood boundaries. Too many of the older staff were nosy and wanted to know your business, which frequently got on your nerves.

Wiping down the last bit of the bar, you were about to throw the cleaning rag back into its bucket when you both heard a loud banging sound coming from the kitchen.

“What the hell?” said Corey.

“I'll check it; you start mopping out here,” you told him.

He nodded as you brushed past him, your eyes looking about the kitchen as you entered it, trying to find the source of the noise. Setting down the bucket on one of the counters, you made your way to the back when you didn't see anything.

The culprit ended up being a large pan that had somehow fallen off the shelf. Most likely from being stacked incorrectly. That was annoying, since you now needed to wash it off, with it having touched the floor and all.

“Everything okay?” Corey called back to you.

“Yeah. Something fell,” you answered.

The wash you gave the pan was rather haphazard, but as you set it to the side to dry overnight, you figured that if the crew in the morning had an issue with it, they could clean it again. Right now you were five minutes away from clocking out and you wanted to get out on time.

“We're all good out here,” Corey's voice called again.

You were about to answer him when you noticed the bucket you had brought in, and when you ran over to dump the water out, you noticed the rag was missing.

“Ah shit.”

You'd left it on the bar counter, didn't you?

You had indeed managed to do that, and you slipped past Corey, standing on your toes and propping an arm on the bar counter as you reached for the rag.

“Could you maybe not step on my clean floors?”

“Sorry,” you called back, “need to grab something.”

Pulling the rag off of the counter by its tattered edge, you pushed off the counter a bit as you moved back to get off of the wet floor.

Somehow, you slipped. You felt your feet slipping against the wet tile as you fell backwards, and you had only seconds to try and brace for impact.

You hit something, but it wasn't the floor.

Corey had moved behind and grabbed you just in time. He held you like that for a moment so you could adjust your footing and stand up properly.

It was then you both realized that, in his efforts to save you from a nasty fall, one of his hands had accidentally ended up grabbing ahold of your breast, and he was currently groping you.

“Fuck I am so sorry!” he exclaimed, pulling his hands away the second you righted yourself.

“It's okay,” you answered. It came out a bit shaky, though that was mostly due to you almost falling.

“I swear that was an accident,” Corey continued.

“It's okay,” you insisted, “seriously, it's fine. I prefer that over having my skull break open.”

Corey nodded, but still looked sheepish, a hand coming up to scratch the back of his head while he looked at the floor.

Eager to alleviate this new tension, you wracked your brain for something to say that would get things feeling not so weird again.

“Hey,” you said, “I didn't fall, so at least your floors have been spared from that.”

He chuckled a little bit.

“For the most part. But you still stepped on them in the first place.”

“I forgot I left the rag! Give me a break.”

“I will, if you move so I can re-mop the floor,” he said.

Happy that things seemed to have gone back to normal, you complied, walking back into the kitchen and tossing the rag into a bin. You grabbed the bucket again, hoisting it up to dump the murky contents into the sink.

A loud noise sounded from the dining area, like wood being split apart accompanied by the light tingling of a bell.

It was so unexpected and so noisy even in the kitchen that you jumped, causing you to spill some water onto the floor.

That noise..... Was that the front door? From hearing the bell it sounded like it, but hadn't you locked it?

“Sir,” Corey's voice sounded through the kitchen door, “w-we're closed.”

Corey saying that indicated that someone had come in, but that noise wasn't normal, and you set the bucket back down as you went back to the dining area to investigate.

And how did this person get in? You were certain you had locked that door.

You pushed open the door-

And froze.

Phinks.

He was standing in front of the bar's entrance, the door practically pulled off of it's hinges and hanging open. Bits of the door frame had splintered off from the force he had used to wrench it open and had been scattered on the walkway leading up to it.

But there was no way Phinks gave a shit about that.

The second you opened that door, his eyes were on you.

Rage.

Pure rage radiated from him, a blackened aura you swore you could see that slowly began to fill the empty spaces in the bar, his form stiff and his hands in fists that were clenched so hard that his knuckles had turned white.

Only months ago you had done everything to get away from this man. Now he had found you, and he looked like he was ready to kill.

Corey looked back when you had entered, and immediately noticed your terrified expression.

“You know him?” he asked you.

Words couldn't come out. They just stayed trapped in your throat as you looked between him and Phinks, your breathing becoming short and harsh.

That had told Corey everything, as he stepped in front of you and addressed Phinks firmly.

“Sir, please leave now. We're going to call the police.”

With Corey now in the way, you couldn't see Phinks. But when he spoke for the first time since entering, you could sense just how much angrier he had become at Corey's actions.

“Un-fucking-believable,” he hissed.

Corey turned back, reaching out to you as he said “go call nine-”

Faster than either you or he could even think, Corey was pulled over the bar and brutally thrown across the room, crashing into one of the tables, the wood surface splintering and the chairs on top flying.

“Don't fucking touch her.”

Phinks' attention was on Corey now, and he stepped away from the bar. Corey was groaning and disoriented. There was blood dripping down his face as well as his arm, and he was shaking so violently that he couldn't push himself up off of the floor, instead collapsing over and over again onto the bits of broken table.

Phinks stood before him and reached down to pull him up by the collar of his shirt.

Corey pushed away his arm and stumbled backwards, hitting the edge of another table. You could see his eyes now, and the way he looked at Phinks in terror and confusion.

“Pathetic,” Phinks spat.

The blonde rolled up the sleeve on his right arm, and began to wind that arm in a clockwise motion.

That was familiar, you realized, as a horrible memory was brought back.

A man had tried to cut the strap of your purse as you and Phinks were walking home one night. Phinks had noticed and pulled you out of the way, but not fast enough, and you had ended up with a large gash on your arm.

“You think I'm scared of you?” the man had said when an infuriated Phinks approached him, winding up his arm once, then twice and then three times.

Phinks punched him and the man went flying; across the empty street and into the side of a building. The impact had left a dent in the bricks and the man's blood smeared on the surface as his body slid down onto the pavement.

Your mind had gone hopelessly blank at the sight of that, the wound on your arm you had been nursing forgotten as you stared wide-eyed at your boyfriend, who quickly returned to your side and chided you for taking pressure off of the cut.

“Ph-Ph-Phinks,” you stuttered.

“Yeah?”

“You..... You killed that man.”

Phinks' gaze narrowed.

“What's your point?”

He was going to do it again.

That brought you out of your stupor, and you rushed to the edge of the bar as you yelled out “Phinks! Please! Don't kill him!”

More pleas for Corey's life were about to spill from your lips when he glared back at you, a silent command for you to shut the hell up. That look made you freeze up again, and you stood by helplessly, holding on to the edge of the bar as you watched Corey struggle to stay upright.

That murderous aura that had been around him was now stifling, and it affected Corey to the point that he was having trouble breathing.

You counted at least twenty times that Phinks had rotated his arm, the aura increasing every time he did it.

Phinks glanced back at you again, and rotated once more.

He punched Corey in the face.

And Corey's entire upper half exploded.

His head was completely gone, face caving in on itself where Phinks had punched until it burst out through the back of his skull. His chest and arms were blown to pieces from the impact, the smaller bits of muscle and organs ripping out of him and sticking to the walls while the larger pieces of meat slid down with the copious amounts of blood and collected into the booths below. His lower half that remained mostly intact slumped beneath the table he had been leaning against, the remainder of his insides spilling out onto the floor while one of his legs still twitched. There was a fine red mist in the air over what remained intact, slowly settling down and soaking into the dark carpet.

You couldn't move.

You just stood there, keeping your hold on the edge of the bar, occasionally tensing and untensing your fingers as you looked at the piles of red slush and bone that had been your coworker.

Phinks had already walked away from it, coming towards the bar. But he passed by you, slamming the door to the kitchen open and letting it swing shut as he entered. You could hear movement, the sounds of his shoes scraping on the brick-red tile of the floor, glass clinking, him cursing to himself, a faucet being turned, and a familiar sound of water filling up a small container.

But you still stood there, unable to take your eyes away from the horrific scene. Minutes, no, seconds ago, that had been a person. Corey had friends, family and aspirations. And within a single moment, that person had been reduced to a mangled corpse that would only fill half of a body bag. How would they identify him? Whoever cleaned him up, would they be able to get everything? Or would bits of him be left behind and stay forever buried in the cracks and crevices of the bar?

You had seen Phinks kill before and it had made you sick then, but nothing had ever been anywhere near as terrible as this.

Corey's leg had stopped twitching, but blood that had hit the wall continued to trickle down in small streams.

You heard Phinks let out a loud sigh as a glass slammed against a metal counter top.

“Okay,” he called out, “I think I've calmed down now.”

Those footsteps in the back became louder and the door swung open again. Phinks appeared by your side, and when he gently put a hand on your arm, you finally looked away from Corey.

Phinks opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when he glanced over to the mess he had left.

“... Lets go to the back,” he said after a moment.

He pulled you with him into the kitchen, and you didn't fight him on it. He still looked angry, but it was considerably less than when he had first entered.

Phinks leaned against the rim of the sink, one hand staying on you as you were positioned to stand in front of him.

“Been a while,” he said quietly.

You didn't respond.

He tsked.

“Goddammit. I find you again after months, and now you can't speak because of that asshole out there. Look, I know I overdid it, but after seeing the way that guy touched you I couldn't control myself.”

His eyes narrowed and he continued “why the fuck did you let him get away with touching you like that?”

Somehow, you managed to find your voice.

“I-it.... It was an a-accident.”

Phinks' free hand came up to lightly slap the side of your head. It didn't hurt, but you flinched regardless.

He had used that hand to end Corey's life; he could easily do the same to you.

“Stupid. You actually thought a move like that was accidental? That bastard was taking advantage of you and you were laughing it off.”

That wasn't true. It had been an accident. But instead of volunteering those thoughts, you bit down on your lip as it began to quiver, tears starting to form in your eyes.

“Don't cry. Sorry. I shouldn't have hit you,” he said, his hand going back up to where he hit, softly stroking your hair.

“I'm just so fucking pissed at how gullible you are. What do you think would've happened if someone smarter had tried taking advantage of you? Fuck, some guys wouldn't need to be smarter; they'd just need to be strong enough to pin you down. Do you even realize how many ways you could've been fucked over before I found you? Did you even think about that? Or was that just me, because I'm actually capable of having some fucking sense?”

His hands settled on your shoulders and his grip became tighter.

“I've been stressed out of my mind trying to figure out where the hell you went, how the hell you managed to get away, or what condition you'd be in when I found you. I couldn't find you and I swear I was going insane. And after all that, when I finally manage to track you down, I have to see you letting some piece of trash grope you?”

Those hands slid up until they were around your neck, and his grip became tighter still.

“It would be so easy,” he murmured, “to just snap your neck and be done with it. Then the constant headache I get from worrying about you would go away. If you're going to fight and run away from me than what's the point?

“Maybe it'd be better for me if you were dead.”

It was deathly quiet in that kitchen.

Phinks still held that grip on you, and you were certain he could feel how fast your heart was beating through the pulse in your neck. You stood there, stiff and quiet as he looked you over, thinking to himself.

He really was considering it.

Any wrong move from you, and there would be two corpses to be found in the morning.

After a few painfully silent moments, he sighed again.

“But I think that if I killed you, part of me would die, too. Maybe that sounds stupid, but it's the truth.”

Finally taking his hands off your throat, he pulled you against his chest to embrace you.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” Phinks said, “but I'd be even more miserable if I didn't have you. Does that make sense?”

Your face was pressed against the front of his tracksuit and you found yourself focusing on the patterned colors of white, red and green.

“I've heard it said a lot that being in love means that you also have to suffer,” he continued, “do you think that's true?”

“..... I don't know.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper and was muffled by the way he pressed you against his chest, but he still managed to hear your answer as he actually chuckled, rubbing the top of your head.

“'I don't know'. Big surprise there,” he said sarcastically, “you haven't changed a bit.”

When he pulled you away he was smiling, wiping away your tears with his thumb as he told you “don't cry anymore. I'm taking you home.”

Hearing that only made you want to cry more.

“Go get your bag and anything else you brought in,” he continued, “I already went to your apartment and packed up your stuff there. Once we're done here we can head out.

“We'll be back home before you know it.”

[soramei]

Intentional - Part 2

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Landing your first real job at JYPE was something short of a miracle. You were prepared to face the new struggles of this elusive career whilst moving to a new country, however, nothing could have prepared you for him. Will stolen glances, secret touches, and hushed nights spent in the recording room ever be enough for the both of you?

Genre: idol!bang chan au, forbidden relationship, coworkers to eventual lovers, slow burn

Warnings: none right now, eventual smut,

Word Count: 5.2k

Masterlist

A/N: o my god i did not expect so many people to have read the first part… even if only one person reads im still happy :D anyways heres the second part (i swear bang chan wont just be a side character later on hhahaha)

The insistent beeping of the alarm on your phone was what first woke you up from your dazed sleep. Your head still pounded from the night before, and frankly, you were ready to get fired for an extra five minutes of sleep. Tapping the ‘cancel’ button on your phone, you flipped over head down on your pillow to find the beautiful dreamland you were in. However, after just five more minutes, the triggering beeping of your backup alarm took you out of your slumber again, this time really waking you up. 

You trudge towards your bathroom, still dreading the day, on your way to take a shower. Thankfully, the steam from the warm shower combined with the fragrant smell of your conditioner slightly woke you up and dampened the aching in your head. 

Being drastically more awake than before, you made your way over to your kitchen to prepare breakfast. You opened the fridge, mind blank, just staring at the empty shelves. I seriously need to do some grocery shopping, you thought before grabbing an egg. 

You struggled to turn on the stove, not knowing which knob correlated to which burner. Turning a random one, you flinched when an excessive amount of fire appeared. However, after an embarrassingly long amount of time, you finally figured out the stove. Why are there still gas range stoves when electrical stoves exist? You wondered. 

You looked at the sad cooked egg in front of you. 

Was this really how you were going to live from now on? You cursed your whole family for spoiling you so much back home. Sure you were grateful for being able to live with your family for twenty three years, but the consequences of your mother making a fuss when you tried to cook for yourself was really showing now. 

You were about to dig into your lonely meal when your phone buzzed all of a sudden. Taking a quick peek at it, you saw Na-eun’s name flash up. You beamed with joy. Although you already worked up the nerve to be the first one to contact her, you were thankful she did first to break the tension. However, there was a small — microscopic even — part of you that wondered: what if that were Bang Chan?

You unlocked your phone. 

Na-eun: Hey! I know it’s kinda last minute, but do you wanna meet for breakfast?

Na-eun: There’s a café five minutes away from the building. 

Na-eun: ^-^

Smiling to yourself, you quickly typed a reply.

Y/n: Sure! My breakfast looks too sad to eat… 

Y/n: ^-^

In a flash, you stuffed your egg into a plastic tupperware container and put it in the empty fridge before booking it out your door, making sure to carefully enter the passcode to lock it before running to the staircase. You almost tripped over the stairs going down as you tried to sprint and text Na-eun at the same time. Checking the maps app on your phone, you told her how long it would take for you to arrive at the café. 

Na-eun: Do you mind if I bring my roommate? She keeps complaining about how boring it is at home haha.... 

Na-eun: She’s really nice though! ^^;

You happily agreed since you weren’t in the position to turn down another potential friend. Already two potential friends? You were so excited. 

There was a bounce in your steps as you made your way down to the subway. Scanning your card, you made your way to the big group of people on the platform and waited for your train. Taking the subway was so new, yet refreshing. There was something exciting about seeing a brand new set of people board the cart every stop, it was almost like refreshing your Instagram feed over and over again. 

After just a couple minutes more of waiting, your subway came. You naturally found your way in by shuffling along with the flock of people and found a good place to stand. 

You surveyed your cart. Some high school students, a few elderly, and many many businesspeople dressed in attire very similar to you. They all seemed to be busy on their cellular devices, so you quickly pulled yours out as well, eager to blend in. Your little Tamagotchi friend was happy to see you. 

The sound of the automated woman’s voice was what drew you out of your concentration, as she announced that the subway would be stopping at your destination next. When the subway stopped, the sea of people rushed out in a big tidal wave and you just went along with the flow. 

The map posted on a big pillar in the station was difficult to read at first, but after embarrassingly asking a station officer, you were confident you knew where you were going. The station was big with many interwoven hallways, each connecting to a different location. It had a couple shops and convenience stores located along the sides where students running late could buy some bread or tired businesspeople could inject their early morning dose of caffeine. 

You weaved your way through the long halls, confident that you could remember how you got out the right exit yesterday. Finally, after passing by many familiar stores and signs, you eventually made it above ground at the right exit. It was a cloudy September morning, the wind flew past you at just the right speed to elicit a slight shiver. You curse yourself for not bringing a jacket in your rush to the café. The streets were busy with cars zooming by, but it was nowhere near as congested as the subway traffic.

You started following your phone’s GPS to the marked location, and after a couple minutes, you spot the café. You immediately recognized it as a chain café as you’ve seen a few more of these scattered around the city as you got around. This one, however, appeared to be larger than the others (presumably because it was near so many big name companies) as it had three floors in total. 

You texted Na-eun, telling her you’ve arrived. She let you know that they were both in one of the booths on the second floor, so you decided to order before heading up. Walking over to the cashier, you scanned their massive menu, trying to find what you were looking for.

“One mango juice, please.” You politely ordered. “And also a slice of the red velvet cake.”  

After you had paid, you waited patiently, hands folded in front of you for your food. Because it wasn’t busy in the morning, it wasn’t that long until one of the baristas handed your food to you on a tiny plastic tray and you started making your way up. You reached the top floor and scanned your eyes around the room to find a familiar face. 

“Y/n!” Na-eun waved.

You waved back and made your way over. She was in the booth, and there was another girl sitting beside her. 

“Y/n, this is my roommate Yoojin.” She smiled at you and made a gesture towards the smaller girl sitting beside her. She was a fluffy haired girl. Her appearance was puppy-like, with her wide eyes and a large smile that was almost too big for her face. 

“Hi Yoojin.” You said as you sat down. 

“Hi Y/n! Na-eun told me about you yesterday. It seems like you have similar jobs.” She looked back at you with wide eyes. “But I think you got luckier because you actually get to interact with the idols.” 

“I think both of us are lucky to even be working there,” you chuckled, “plus, I don’t actually get to be working directly with the artists. I could only wish.” You joked. 

“Still extremely lucky, Na-eun told me she saw Bang Chan and Felix from Stray Kids at your building’s cafeteria yesterday.” Her hair bounced. “Finally, now I can say I’ve indirectly met famous people.” 

You and Na-eun both laughed. Although Yoojin looked the same age as you, there was something about the way she acted that just seemed so precious and innocent — like a little sister. How old was she anyway?

“Yoojin’s younger than me by a few years,” Na-eun said as if she read your thoughts, “She graduated university a year early. Top of her programming class. She knows everything about technology; one time, I stupidly forgot the passcode to my P.O. box and she cracked it for me in less than fifteen minutes.”

“Stop it.” Yoojin whined, looking down and playfully hitting Na-eun on the shoulder. “I told you before that I don’t like it when you talk about me. Let’s talk about Y/n instead. Na-eun told me you’re not from here, what do you do at JYPE then?” 

“I’m an assistant to help market some of the artists in China.” You leaned in a bit. “Actually, to be honest, I’m working on a secret project and Bang Chan from Stray Kids is technically part of the team.” 

Both Yoojin and Na-eun’s eyes widened. “No way, you’re so lucky.” Yoojin said. “Why can’t you have a job like that?” She poked at Na-eun.

“Get your own job first,” Na-eun smirked, “then we can talk about mine.”  

“Hey! I do have a job.” Yoojin clenched her jaw, looking at her plate and avoiding eye contact.

“I’m not sure if talking to people online all day counts as a job.” 

“Whatever.” Yoojin swirled her fork on her plate, stabbing at a piece of her cake. The scraping of metal on ceramic made all of you wince. 

“Anyways,” you started, trying to change the atmosphere, “did anybody watch the first episode of that new drama?” 

The two girls seemed to have a mood switch, looking relieved to start a new conversation. They gladly added their input and opinions on the new drama, talking about both the plot and the actors. Time passed by twice as fast as the three of you sat at the booth talking about the most random things. However, it was soon time to go to work for both you and Na-eun. 

“Hey, before you leave, could I get your number?” Yoojin asked. “We should hang out again sometime.”  

You gladly typed your contact into her phone, excited to hang out with Yoojin again. She was so full of energy, it reminded you of your university days. Not to mention that fluffy curly hair. It was so cute. 

You and Na-eun both made it out of the café and walked side-by-side over to your building before parting ways at the elevator corridor. It was a miracle that you managed to arrive at your cubicle in time, without getting lost. There was a pile of papers on your desk; they were the files you worked on yesterday. You remember that yesterday Manager Chen marked some improvements that could be made to the papers, but you checked your email just to be sure. 

Hello Y/n,

I put the documents from yesterday on your desk for some final edits. I’ve also added a few more. Could you finish them all by the end of the day?

Best, 

Manager Chen

You flipped through the stack of documents, and sure enough, there were about five more letters that needed to be worked on. Feeling determined, you gritted your teeth, got out your pen, and started to do your job. 

There were more corrections to make than what you expected, plus, you wanted to make sure your work was perfect this time. You skipped a trip to the cafeteria for lunch and ate something from the vending machine at your desk instead. You tried your best to work diligently, but because of your inexperience, it was taking longer than expected. You lost track of time as the hours passed by. 

“Your team is working hard today, Manager Chen.” A voice came from across the room. You looked up from your stack of documents to see Manager Kim walking over towards Manager Chen, who was standing casually outside her office doors. 

“What can I say, I keep them busy.” She replied. “Are you heading home now?” 

“Yes, and so should you.” Manaker Kim stopped at your cubicle, putting a hand on the wall. It was cat-like the way he looked at you. “Y/n, you’re working hard. Are you going home now? I’ll give you a ride.” 

You couldn’t head home now, not with the amount of work you still had with the new letters Manager Chen added to the pile. “Thank you for the offer, Manager Kim, but I’ll stay later today. I need to finish this work by today.” 

“Let her be, Manager Kim, you know how new employees are.” Manager Chen nagged and crossed her arms. “Come, I’ll walk you to the parking lot.” 

You bowed at both your managers and stretched your back before getting back to your work. The black lines of both languages started to blur into one as you strained your eyes to hold a tighter focus on the documents. It wasn’t until two more gruesome hours later when you finished your work. You did a long deserved stretch of the arms and checked the clock for the time, praying that it wasn’t too late. Thankfully, with the time being only eight, it wasn’t that dark out. You took a quick peek at your phone to check your notifications before leaving the office. 

There were only two texts sent fifteen minutes ago. Both from Bang Chan. 

Your chest tightened when you unlocked your phone. 

Bang Chan: Hey, I know it’s a bit late, but I have some ideas for the project and I was thinking we could meet up to discuss them

Bang Chan: Only if you want that is…

Your brain was in jumbles as you thought of what to text back. There were a couple staff that wrote you emails about their ideas for the project, but none of them asked to meet in person. And now, the first person who asked you to have a meeting in person was Bang Chan. Whom you rode back to your apartment drunk with. On your first day at work. And now you missed his work-related text by fifteen minutes. However, even though it was late, you still felt like you needed to take his ideas in. After all, like Manager Chen said, you know how new employees are. 

Y/n: Hi, sorry my reply is late… Are you still free? 

You anxiously stared at the blue-lit screen of your phone, jumping in and out of the text app waiting for a reply. After less than a minute, you saw the little dots at the bottom which indicated that he was typing. It disappeared for a moment, only to come back less than a second later. Your thumbs started unconsciously fiddling with one another in front of your phone screen as you waited for what felt like eternity. 

Bang Chan: It’s alright haha 

Bang Chan: There’s a cafe about 5 minutes from our building, wanna meet there? 

You immediately knew which café he was talking about as you conveniently hung out with Na-eun there this morning. You texted Bang Chan back, letting him know that you would be there as soon as possible. You grabbed your bag, along with your trusty pen and notebook,  before leaving your desk for the elevators. The elevator ride was unusually fast as it was already well past working hours for most people.  

Once you were out of the building, you made your way down the familiar sidewalk, passing by the familiar street shops as you felt the bite of the wind against your face. The sky was becoming dim as the sun made its descent, but the illumination coming from the streetlamps helped guide you there. After five minutes of a brisk walk, you saw the familiar sign of the café. You also saw a familiar person standing outside the door, dressed in all black, with his head down looking at his phone. 

You tried to make your footsteps slightly louder the closer you got to him in order to make your presence known. It seemed to have worked, as Bang Chan heard you and turned his head up. He immediately gave you a boyish grin, putting his phone in the pocket of his hoodie and pulling his face mask down to his chin. 

“Hey,” You waved awkwardly, “did I make you wait long?”

“Not at all.” Bang Chan said as he held open the door, “Let’s go in, it’s pretty chilly today.” 

You thanked him and walked inside. You both made your way to the cashier and looked up at the menu, deciding on what to buy. 

“I think I’ll get an iced americano.” Bang Chan said. “Are you getting anything?”

“Hmm. I might get the mango juice.” You decided and lined up behind Bang Chan, waiting for him to order first. 

Bang Chan walked up to the waiting barista. “Hello, I’ll get an iced americano please.” A second passed. “Also a mango juice.” 

Your eyes widened as you silently tried to stop him from buying your drink, feeling embarrassed that Bang Chan — who was essentially your coworker — was buying your drink. He didn’t seem to notice your quiet protests, as he pulled his card out of his wallet and quickly tapped it on the pin pad. After he was done paying, he turned around and tucked his card back in his wallet, giving you a smug grin. 

“I’ll pay you back later.” You insisted, embarrassed once again that he was doing something for you. 

“Of course, of course.” He casually replied and stood beside you with his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. “I’ll wait for our drinks. You can go find a table.” 

You nodded and left to find a table on the first floor. Surprisingly, there were more people there at night than when you were there in the morning. Some people had their textbooks out to study, some were quietly enjoying a book. Some were on dates. 

Finally, after weaving through many fully filled tables, you found an empty one near the table. You sat down, taking out your pen and notebook to prepare for Bang Chan’s ideas. Not long after, you saw Bang Chan walking around, turning his head left and right to look for you. You caught his eye as you waved at him to come over. He strolled over and put the tray of drinks down on the table, placing yours beside your notebook. 

“So,” You took a sip of your delicious mango juice, “do you wanna get started now?” 

“Sure.” His usually friendly face turned serious. It seemed like he took his work seriously. “So I was thinking, we need to film some content to start promoting our debut right? How about we film content for the Mid-Autumn Festival? It falls on the same day as Chuseok, so we can use this as a small promotion for our debut.” 

You nodded in agreement. Although this idea would be a little last minute to carry out, it was a great opportunity to promote their group in order to gain more popularity before their debut in China. “This is a great idea Bang Chan,” You hurriedly jotted down everything he said, “did you have more to add on?”  

“We could make several episodes of this content. I was thinking we could camp in the mountains and maybe cook some food, make mooncakes.” 

“All of this is really good, we have three weeks until the actual Mid-Autumn Festival. If I rush this idea to Manager Chen, we could have one week to plan it, and two weeks to film and produce it.” You beamed, glad that you could be involved in a potential big production. 

You and Bang Chan kept discussing his idea for content, and as time passed, your conversation turned more casual as it eventually evolved into topics unrelated to work.

“So, why are you having coffee this late anyway?” You tipped your chin towards his glass. 

“There’s this part of a song I’m working on that I just can’t get perfect,” Bang Chan noticeably clenched his jaw, “I wanna figure it out before I leave.” 

“Do you usually stay up late to work?” You asked. 

“I can’t sleep anyways, so I might as well work.” 

“Insomnia?” You questioned. He shrugged his shoulders and took a sip of his coffee. A few seconds of silence passed. “You know, my mom made me pack some of her special tea before leaving. She said it was for jet lag, which is weird because there’s only a time difference of an hour here.” You rambled. 

“Oh?” Bang Chan tipped his head. 

“I could give you some tomorrow.” You said. Your eyes wandered everywhere except to him. “If you want.” 

“Really, you’d do that?” His eyes widened as he stirred his coffee with his straw. 

It may have been your subconscious need to make friends, or just the fact that you mom gave you so much tea for your non-existent jet lag, but you gladly offered your mom’s solve-all remedy. “Of course, anything for a friend.” 

He blinked a couple times. He stopped stirring his coffee. “Thanks.” He looked at you with a slight grin. 

“Plus, this way I can pay you back.” You teased. 

“Okay, fair enough.” He chuckled. A dimple appeared on his cheek as his smile widened. “But seriously, you don’t need to worry about paying me back for anything next time.” 

Next time? You wondered. Of course he would have more ideas for his own group. You wanted to roll your eyes at yourself. It seemed like, despite his easy-going personality, that he cared a lot about not only his job, but the boys he worked with. His work ethic inspired you and made you want to work just as hard as he did. Except you definitely couldn’t stay up as late as he did. 

The two of you kept up the back and forth that was established, talking about whatever came to mind, with a few sprinklings of work-related conversations throughout. You talked about your first day impressions and how well you were adjusting to life in a new country, and he retaliated by sharing his own experiences of moving across the world. You were so enraptured by your riveting conversations that you easily lost track of time. It wasn’t until you had already spent minutes playing around with your straw in the empty glass that you finally remembered how late it was.

“It’s kinda late, I think I should get going now.” You said as you checked your phone for the time. 

“Are you taking the subway?” He asked as he started gathering the empty glasses. “It’s pretty dark now — I could walk you there.”

“It’s alright. I don’t wanna take time from your work” You said, gathering your notebook and pen. 

“It’s no problem, really, it’s just a five minute walk.” He stood up with the tray of empty glasses in one hand and pulled up his face mask with the other.

The two of you left the café and walked the short distance to the subway stairs.  There, you parted ways and you started your trek home. Taking the subway at night was vastly different from morning; the morning rush was filled with rows and rows of busy people, whereas the night train had a completely different feeling to it. There were actually available seats, to begin with. You found an empty seat and took out your phone to kill time. You checked your missed notifications.

Yoojin: Hi Y/n!! ^-~ Today was so fun, we should go again sometime! 

You smiled at the little text from Yoojin, visioning her wide smile stretch across her face. Texting a quick reply back, you were about to put your phone back down when another notification popped up. 

Unknown: Stay away from him. This is a warning.  

A flash of panic rushed through your body making your chest tighten. Your heart was coming out of your chest, the beating was so hard you could hear it even in the running subway. Completely fixated on the bright white of your phone, your eyes strained from the light. Adrenaline filled your blood, and in the spur of the moment, you quickly blocked the number and deleted the text chain. It had to just be a prank text, after all, you have gotten pranked through text multiple times before in your past. 

You put your phone down slowly, turning your head to survey your subway cart for any suspicious acting people. There was only a grandma with her cane and a few middle school girls comparing their new lip tints. Your thumbs naturally started fiddling with each other. Your eyebrows knit together as you clutched your bag tight to your body for the rest of the subway ride. 

The walk back to your apartment was done carefully. You chose the side of the sidewalk with more light as you kept your senses open, trying to remember the face of every person that walked past you. Although it was more likely than not that the text was just a prank, you were still somebody living alone with very few connections in a new country. Your legs quickened at the thought and you hurried your way back.

Arriving at your apartment door, you carefully entered your lock combination and slammed your door shut, double checking that it was locked. Your home was dark, with only the moon casting long shadows on your furniture. You quickly switched your light on. You tried to put this text to the back of your mind as you got ready to sleep, but it loomed, feeling like a shadow cast by the moon. The shadow in your mind stayed as you closed your eyes, waiting for your sleep to chase it away. 

The next morning, you woke up to the obnoxious beeping of your alarm. You sleepily sat up, getting ready to perform your familiar morning routine. Everything felt like routine, so monotonous that the text from last night was completely forgotten. You opened the fridge and ate your suspicious egg from yesterday morning. 

Before leaving, you suddenly remembered to bring your mom’s magical tea. You rummaged through the cupboards until you found the ridiculous packaging your mom insisted on using. 

The route to work was already starting to feel familiar as you mindlessly made your way from your quaint apartment all the way to the opulent blue building. You entered the office and sat at your desk, checking for new emails. After nothing of immediate importance came up, you got out your notebook and started to type up your notes from yesterday. 

You were in a trance. The repetitive task of reading and typing completely hypnotised you as hours passed by without you even noticing. What broke you out of your trance, however, was the voice of your boss. 

“Bang Chan.” Manager Chen called out. You looked up from your monitor and peeked up from your cubicle to see the familiar hair of a certain man you knew. Assuming he was here for a meeting with Manager Chen, you went back to your hypnotising work. The walls of your cubicle were too high for him to see you anyways — something about eliminating distractions to maximise work efficiency. 

You hit ‘enter’ on your keyboard to start a new paragraph when all of a sudden, you spotted an object appear on your desk from the corner of your eye. 

A bottle of mango juice. 

Quickly turning your head around, you were met with Bang Chan’s back. He was already making strides towards Manager Chen, but something about the sway of his broad shoulders and the way his right hand stretched open told you that it was him who gave you this little bottle of happiness. You unscrewed the lid and took a sip before getting back to work.  

Thankfully, the gift you received was enough sugar content to keep you working efficiently for the rest of the day. You had finished all your work and could hopefully pitch Manager Chen the idea by tomorrow. You found your mom’s tea in your bag while gathering your stuff, remembering your promise to Bang Chan. 

Y/n: Hey, I have my mom’s tea — I could give it to you right now?

There was a reply almost immediately. 

Bang Chan: Sure ^^ I’m in a practice room on floor X right now, I’ll wait by the elevators. 

You made your way over to the elevators and tapped your nails on the package of tea whilst silently waiting for an elevator to arrive. The silence, however, was promptly cut off as your phone started to ring. It was from Yoojin. She probably wants to hang out soon, you thought as you happily answered right away. 

“Y/n!” Yoojin yelled into the phone, she sounded worried. 

“Yoojin, is there something wrong?” You frowned, concerned for the girl. 

“I-I was in the parking lot near your building, a-and I fell down the stairs.” She sniffed. “I think I sprained my ankle or something — I can’t stand up. It hurts so much.” 

“Oh god, Yoojin, do you want me to come help?” You were in the elevator by now, already pressing the button for the main floor. 

“If you’re not far, I don’t want to trouble you.” You heard sounds of her wincing. 

“It’s no trouble Yoojin,” You exclaimed, “your ankle is much more important now. I’ll be right there.” 

“Thank you Y/n.” You heard her sniff again through the phone. 

You bolted out of the elevator as soon as it reached the main floor, stuffing your forgotten package in your bag. Ignoring the looks of confusion of the people you sprinted past, you located the parking lot building as soon as you left the main doors of the JYPE building. Your chest burned and your breaths were heavy. 

You were worried for Yoojin. She seemed like such a sweet girl that it pained you to even imagine her hurt in any sort of way. With her fluffy hair and wide eyes, it made you feel like you were helping an injured puppy. 

Your legs felt like concrete after a while of running, but you finally made it to the parking lot building. Entering the parking lot, you looked for any sign of a staircase where Yoojin said she fell on. There were none. 

“Excuse me, where are the stairs to this parking lot?” You asked the parking lot attendant, assuming it was just hidden somewhere. 

“There are no stairs here,” He said, “if you want to get to the second floor, there is an elevator over there.” He pointed to the other side of the lot. 

You thanked the man and ran to the elevator, hoping Yoojin wasn’t too hurt by now. You’ve experienced injuries like these before whilst playing sports back home, they hurt like hell. Your breathing was staggered by the time you reached the elevator, however, you didn’t give up and kept looking around trying to find the girl. There was nobody. You were about to call Yoojin again just to make sure you were in the correct place, but a voice interrupted you. 

“Y/n.” 

It was Manager Kim.

[spenciegoob]

Swing to the Stars

this fic swap is for @reidgraygubler​ ... I really hope you like it, shadow :)

A/N: AAAAH! this is my first fic swap and I’M SO EXCITED!!!!

Summary: Spencer meets someone in his little hiding spot, and desperately hopes to see them again.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral!Reader

Category: fluff with a dash of angst

Content Warnings: mentions of Maeve & William Reid, talk of a case involving teens, mentions of bullying, mentions of guns and pepper spray (not used)

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4K

___

The first time I climbed that treacherous hill, dirtying my converse for all to see what my night activities truly consisted of, I was alone. I enjoyed it like that, I came here by myself, and I intended to keep it that way. When I sat on the swing dangling by two dangerously flimsy ropes, I thought how ridiculously large the slap of wood used to make it was. My elbows were bent a little over a 90 degree angle just to reach both sides, but I never thought past it. I had other things on my mind that night.

I thought about my mom. I knew she would have loved a secluded, little space like this. She would’ve probably read to me here, using different voices that held deep emotion to convey each story with a precise amount of dedication and love. Each story to her was special, and I silently thank her every day for passing that trait down to me. 

Unfortunately, if I thought about my mom, I thought about my dad. William was never a kind man, and I could pride myself on one thing; I would never be like him. He didn’t deserve to know a place like this. It was too serene, too beautiful to house a man so willing to abandon the two people who should’ve been the most important to him. I was glad he would never get the chance to sit on this swing.

I thought about my family. How Garcia would jump with excitement at the prospect of having a picnic overlooking the city, yet quiet and missing the sounds of cars zooming by or overlapping chatter. I thought about JJ, and how Henry would beg her to push him in the swing, because to a little kid, it was perfect. He didn’t look at the frayed rope and fear that it would snap. I hope he never starts to fear the world like that.

The second time I found myself back at the bottom of the hill, I made it halfway to the top before seeing a couple getting up from the swing they were sitting together on. I realized then why it was so comically large; it was meant for two people. Thankfully when I reached the top only half out of breath, the two were starting their descent to where I came from.

This time when I sat down, I thought about Maeve. I would’ve brought her here, shared the little secret corner of the world I built for myself. She would’ve loved something like this, and I know if life wasn’t so cruel, and I was given the chance to show her, we would’ve talked for hours. So that’s what I did that time; I talked to Maeve. To anyone else, I probably looked like a crazy person talking to himself, but much to my delight, not many people made the trip up the hill to find this place.

Now I go whenever I need a break from my mind, which unfortunately is more times than my schedule allows me to take that leisurely walk. I spend my nights sometimes after a particularly hard case there no matter the time, using the ropes that scratch my hands as my lifeline down to Earth. I watch the stars, screaming and cursing at the world in my head and waiting for the sky to respond. It never did, and the next case always came in the following morning.

This particular time that I found myself at the bottom of the grassy hill waiting to be climbed, the case I just returned from involved kids across the board. A teenage unsub was killing his fellow classmates that have wronged him. Unfortunately, the BAU had to witness his stressor recorded for the whole school to see. It involved vile insults being thrown at the young, defenseless boy only for the bullying to escalate to violence.

It was awful.

As I trudged up the hill with less excitement to look into the vast unknown than usual, I couldn’t stop thinking about the unsub. All he wanted in life was a friend, someone to talk to, laugh with, share memories together. No matter how wrong it was, I saw myself in him. Our souls held the same scars given to us by people who had no right to go digging for such a deep part of ourselves. If I didn’t make it, would I have turned out like him?

When I reached the top, completing my journey once again, I saw them. Sitting there, staring out into the sky, mimicking my thoughts to do the same on the jet ride home. I could only make out half their face lit up by the light casting down from the full moon, but I didn’t need to see more to know they were breathtaking.

I would have turned around to return home to nothing more than books reread thousands of times and stale coffee, but I already made the mistake of stepping on a rather large branch that broke in half. The crunch coming from their right immediately had them on edge, and reaching for their bag that I could only assume had some sort of weapon inside. I hope it was legal.

I felt terrible for breaking them from the trance they were in. They were deep in thought about something that was probably going to become a solution if I hadn't interrupted their musing. 

“H-hi, I’m sorry to scare you. I didn’t expect anyone here this late. Not that you being here is a problem! I didn’t mean to disturb you,” I frantically shouted, although there was less distance between us than I originally thought, and probably seemed crazed by my volume level.

They just giggled at first, but upon seeing my distraught expression, their face turned more kind than humorous.

“That’s okay. I’m just glad I didn’t jump so fast to pepper spray you. That would definitely be the worst case scenario.” I let out a breath of relief for some reason. Here I was, in front of a total stranger thankful that their weapon of choice wasn’t a gun. I’ve been on the wrong end of too many during my years.

“Did you know Chemical Mace, more commonly known as pepper spray, was invented in the 1960s by a man named Alan Lee Litman and his wife Doris Litman at the time. Their reason was actually because one of Doris’s female coworkers was attacked and robbed, so they thought to create a nonlethal weapon with easy accessibility and use, considering not everyone is able to use a gun. It wasn’t until 1987 however that the Litman’s sold their creation to Smith and Wesson where it was mass produced and later sold to law enforcement.”

“Wow, I don’t think I did.” They laughed again, but something in my heart told me it wasn’t meant to come with malicious intent. “Do you do that a lot?”

“Do what?” I asked, even though I had some inclination of what they were referencing.

“Spout random facts. I’m not complaining, that was very cool, but I am fully intrigued.” They smiled again at me fondly, the kind of smile that left me a little breathless, even more so than the 45 degree incline I had to climb to find myself in front of them. There was nothing to convince me they weren’t authentic in every word they stated.

“I do it quite often, yes. It gets annoying after a while though.” It was true, I was told on many occasions that my rambling got old very fast. I suppose that’s what happens when you’re close to me for too long. I tend to stop being the awe-striking genius, and become the nagging, walking encyclopedia.

“I don’t see how that could become annoying.” It sounded sad coming from them, like I had insulted their oddity. I would never, and I was really hoping to find out what it was.

I had nothing further to say that would express my shock, and slight fondness over their praise, wary of its honesty even if it did come from them. I hadn’t known them for more than 4 minutes and 36 seconds, but it was enough to figure out that they weren’t a liar. It wasn’t from profiling either.

“You know, there is room for two people here if you wanted to join me. I’m sure you didn’t climb that hill for nothing.” They continued for me. If they noticed my surprise, they said nothing about it. 

Usually, I would be skeptical of being in a close proximity with a stranger, but as I approached them carefully, even if their hand was no longer reaching for mace, I felt the passing between our eyes. It was as if we had shared every part of ourselves with eye contact, and as crazy as it sounds, I felt the somber thoughts that lingered from their previous reflections.

So I sat down, grabbing onto only one of the scratchy ropes, and enjoying the way I could rest my elbow against my side now that I was using the swing to its fullest potential. I stopped caring about the probability of the ropes snapping under our combined body weight. The worst that could possibly happen was I bruised my tailbone a little bit, but I wouldn’t care past the initial embarrassment. At least I had someone to show that with.

“Do you ever think about what’s out there?” They asked once I was settled on the wood slab as comfortably as I could muster. Being boney didn’t necessarily help. Before I could answer, they continued. “I can tell you’re a man of science, if the fact dump wasn’t any indicator, but I mean beyond the facts, and the known.”

“No, I don’t think about it.” It was a lie, I think about it every time I’m here, but I wanted nothing more in this moment than to know how they saw the stars.

“I do. Quite frequently, actually. I mean, I’ve read every book there ever was about the stars and space, but there is still no answer to my question.”

“What question?” I had to know.

“What’s exactly written in the stars,” they replied, using their hands to showcase the sky above us. I sat back and thought for a while. Like the books they’ve read, I too didn’t have the response to their question. God, how I wish I did.

I don’t know how long we sat there quietly. One of the perks of total darkness in the dead of night is that the moon couldn’t tell time the way the sun did. We got lost in the cosmos together, contemplating sharing our own troubled thoughts with each other. It would have felt right if we did, but alas, the ringing of my cell phone dropped a pin in our reflections.

“I- I’m sorry, I have to take this,” I rushed out before standing up and accepting the incoming call from Penelope. I knew it was a case before her bubbly voice rang through my celular. I allowed the disappointment to bleed through my tone when I told her I would be back at the BAU shortly, hoping that the small release of the emotion would be enough to ward it off in time to turn back around. 

It didn’t.

They were already looking at me expectantly when I made my way back to the swing, bending down to retrieve my satchel I had abandoned on the ground. The amount of guilt on my face must have been enough to tell them I had to leave abruptly, despite the fact that the only thing I wanted to do was stay for even just a second.

“That’s okay,” they spoke softly, giving me a tight lipped smile. “We’ll see each other again.”

“How do you know?” I couldn’t help but be skeptical. Life never did work out in my favor. They looked up at the sky once more before answering.

“Just a feeling.” I let a full grin break out at their response, the first one I’ve had when visiting this place. I turned around to start my journey back to the office where dark, and twisted things lurked behind manilla folders. Before starting my descent however, I spun around quickly, almost losing my footing and taking a tumble.

“Woah there tiger, don’t hurt yourself,” they giggled at me, one that I returned with my own breathy laugh.

“I just don’t know your name.” It baffled me a little bit that I hadn’t thought to ask before this, but they just gave me one last smile, tilting their head in faux contemplation.

“Ask me next time.” I will.

***

It’s been a year since I met them, and I haven’t seen them since. Not for a lack of trying however. After that case, I went there every night until a new one arose, this time taking me to Oregon. They hadn’t been back, and part of me wondered if it was because of me. Did I not try hard enough the first time? Should I have ignored my ringer until my phone had 5 missed calls from Penelope?

But then my eidetic memory swooped in to save me from going down that road, one of the only times it wasn’t the cause of my self destructive thoughts. Because while I replayed the conversation over in my head wondering where it went wrong, I remembered their eyes, and their smile.

I remembered what it felt like to sit with them, and thankfully that was enough to convince myself our meeting wasn’t in vain.

I never was the kind of man to believe in the universe. The whole notion that “everything happens for a reason,” felt like a lie created to somehow blame an external force on the chaos in one’s life. There were so many things in my life that had no reason for happening, and to blame that on anything or anyone but myself would be a cheap excuse of a way out.

But for some odd reason, the universe aside, I believed in them, and strangely enough, I don’t think they would have blamed me for the life I had to live. So, as I sit down tonight on this familiar piece of wood, I choose to stare at the stars instead of the ground, and believe that if I spoke aloud, maybe they would hear me.

And they did, because my efforts to sit on one side of the swing in case they returned to me were not in vain. I didn’t look over, I didn’t have to to know it was them. I had already relaxed once their presence was known in my peripherals.

“Y/N,” they spoke, causing me to change my view on the stars to their side profile. It wasn’t all that different than staring at the constellations spread around us. “My name’s Y/N.”

___

Join a taglist here Tell me your thoughts on this fic here Have a request? Send it in here

Taglist: @the-girl-who-writes-fanfiction @haylaansmi @masumiyetimziyanoldu @cielo1984 @rexorangecouny @username2002 @calm-and-doctor @pieceofried @mermaidshmari @missyoumaybank @everythingbutnormal @seasonfivereid @no-honey-no​ @muffin-cup​ @90spumkin​ @spenxerslut​

[aminiatureworld]

Distance II

Characters: Ningguang, Zhongli, gn!reader

Word Count: 3,605

Warnings: None

Premise: What other explanation could there be? Surely this is the one logical answer. Even if it hurts, even if it doesn’t make sense.

In which the reader’s s/o assumes the reader is no longer interested.

Author’s Note: Though Ningguang is hands down one of my favorite characters I find her surprisingly difficult to write. She just seems so much more in control than I am. Perhaps though that makes writing her in conflict all the more rewarding.

Ningguang

Sometimes Ningguang wondered if she wasn’t accidentally proving her detractors right by not caring.

Being the Tianquan of the Liyue Qixing it’d be nearly impossible for her not to hear the rumors that circulated about her, the not-so-quiet whisperings of people who found her too cold, too callous, too closed off to have any genuine feelings. Nor were such incidents limited to the murmurings of coworkers or the blunt admissions of Keqing. Ningguang had long ago lost track of the times she’d passed someone on the street, only to find someone proclaiming how unfit she was to represent Liyue, she who had no genuine feelings.

Of course, Ningguang couldn’t truly complain. Even if people saw her as aloof and shallow, she was still given the respect due to her position. Nor could the privilege and power of being the Tianquan be overstated. Really, being isolated in such a way was just the price she had to pay for her success. What did it really matter what the general population thought of her personally as long as they respected her competency? Besides, she didn’t have time for close interpersonal relationships.

Perhaps it was this thinking that had ruled her for so long that made you so special in her eyes. Though you would later admit that you had worried your feelings had been one-sided, Ningguang had been just as captivated with you as you of her. Incredibly competent at your job, as devoted to Liyue as Ningguang was, and deeply empathetic on top of it, how could Ningguang not grow somewhat infatuated with you? She had never expected the same emotion on your side, just as you had never expected such a thing of her; not because you saw Ningguang as made of ice or stone, it was merely the natural nervousness that always came with love. Perhaps that was the part of your confession that Ningguang appreciated the most. To you she was just as normal as anyone else, with a heart made out of the same flesh as all the other residents of Liyue.

Yet being in a relationship had proved a much greater challenge than Ningguang expected, and in the place one was least likely to think about. Her love for you was never in question, the devotion you two shared towards one another was something spelled out plainly in front of her eyes. Nor did she worry about providing for you, or you for her. Being both high ranking members of the Liyue Qixing, the two of you were incredibly lucky, and finances and worries about saving was never something that Ningguang had to lose sleep over. No, it was none of those normal things that Ningguang had to worry about, instead it was herself.

She had expected that all the whisperings about her emotional capabilities would have left once the word of you two being partners got around. Instead the whispers seemed all the greater, swirling around her at every turn. Though logically that could not be the case, Ningguang found that logic ultimately played a very little role in the matter of love and affection. Even when she wasn’t haunted by the whispers of others she found herself more and more facing her own words. How could someone so closed off and reserved be a good partner, her mind seemed to whisper, how could she possibly give you the affection and warmth you deserved? Ningguang never told you these thoughts of course, her anxiety seizing her whenever the idea so much as passed through her head. Still those thoughts lingered.

And then work got busier; well, busier for her at least. For you things seemed to remain about the same, and though Ningguang was somewhat grateful for that – knowing that overworking oneself was a bit of a theme for members of the Liyue Qixing – she still found herself uncomfortable at the new schedule. Now instead of the two of your finishing up at around the same time, it seemed like you always had to hold back and wait for her. It was embarrassing, really; more than that it felt unfair to you.

“Should I reschedule the dinner reservations tonight?” Your question hung over the desk that separated the two of you, paper piled up like a wall between you and her.

“I’m afraid so, I’m sorry darling.” Ningguang offered an awkward smile.

“Don’t be sorry! It’s not your fault that you have so much work. I’ll go down and tell the waitress during lunch break, we should be able to get a refund, and maybe a reschedule. After all, we haven’t been out together in so long.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you leaned over the desk, too blocked by the papers to give her the traditional comfort kiss on her cheek, “you have a very important job, and no one could fault you for it.”

Despite your words Ningguang couldn’t help but feel somewhat chastised. Bowing her head she whispered a soft “thank you”, wondering how much you were hiding your true feelings. Keeping her head mostly down at her work for the rest of the morning the Tianquan was startled by the realization she hadn’t noticed you leaving for lunch.

“Unfortunately I was unable to get a refund,” your apologetic voice floated through the air as you reentered the office, “so I was wondering whether or not I could bring a friend out to dinner tonight? Of course I would pay for the whole thing myself, and we could still reschedule. Although maybe next time let’s pick a restaurant without an all-or-nothing view on payment.”

“A good idea about the payments,” Ningguang smiled awkwardly, ill at ease despite your slight laughter, “and of course you may invite a friend out for dinner. I know that we’ll find another time.”

“You’re an absolute darling you know!” You walked around the desk giving Ningguang a fleeting kiss on her cheek. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

“How could I not be when I’m the reason we can’t go out this evening?”

“Well, I don’t know. Some people aren’t so nice about those things you know.”

“I hope to never be involved with those people.”

“You’re right about that!” You laughed, bringing a small smile to Ningguang’s face. Still, a part of her felt leaden, her embarrassment and guilt weighing her down like a rock.

Afterwards it seemed that a bit of a routine had been found in your life. After your work was done and your errands finished you laughed awkwardly, gave Ningguang a short kiss, and went out to spend time with your friends. Not that Ningguang begrudged you the time you spent with others, she wasn’t about to ask you to spend all your time with her, especially when most of it would be spent staring at her reading. Still it was hard not to see these continual outings as further proof of how little affection Ningguang was giving you, how much she was failing at providing you all the love and emotional support you needed.

Walking down the streets to your house Ningguang took in the sight of Liyue in the evening. It was her favorite time of day; the lanterns turned the normally drab grey stones into burnisheds amber, basking the buildings with a soft orange glow that gave the illusion of perfect domesticity. It was easy to forget the troubles of Liyue in the evening, easy to be wrapped up in the landscape in front of the Tianquan, easy to ignore her troubles. Passing by the docks Ningguang breathed in the scent of a trading city at work. Smells, sights, and conversations mixed together in a familiar dance, lively despite the lateness of the hour.

“Did you see the Tianquan’s partner was out again this evening?”

Ningguang found herself standing perfectly still, unsure if the words that she had just heard weren’t a figment of her exhausted imagination. Turning towards the stalls she was careful to keep her pace as even as possible, hoping that her presence would go largely unnoticed.

“Oh yes, I saw them walking along the shipyard with a few people. You could tell it wasn’t on business.”

“I feel bad for them,” the first voice piped up again, voice heavy with authority, “to have a block of ice as a partner, it must be very difficult.”

“You’re right, the poor dear. Honestly I don’t know why they decided to become partners with such a person as Lady Ningguang, I heard that she was the one confessed to even. Why anyone would actively cultivate such a relationship, I don’t understand it.”

“Neither do I. They must be very used to living without affection.”

“You’re probably right, it always ends up that way with those types of relationships.”

Although the conversation showed no signs of ending Ningguang found herself turning around and leaving. The words had felt like a slap in the face, and she felt almost feverish in her wish for the conversation to have never happened.

Once she arrived at your home Ningguang rushed to the bedroom, collapsing onto the soft sheets. You, she realized that she wanted you; wanted to tell you what had just happened, wanted you to assure her it was all false, wanted all this insecurity to go away. And yet, how could she be sure that you weren’t thinking a similar thing as those people Ningguang had overheard? How could she be sure you hadn’t come to the conclusion that she was indeed without feeling. There was only one way to figure it out really, no matter how painful.

“I’m home!” Your voice was bright and cheerful, a stark contrast to Ningguang’s current emotional state.

“Welcome home dear.”

“Oh I’m exhausted, I think I’m taking a bath and going right to bed tonight! You should probably sleep too, you’ve really been overworking yourself!” You chastised, giving Ningguang an impatient sort of smile as you put away your things. Taking a deep breath Ningguang prepared herself.

“Before you do that, there is something I’d like to ask you.”

“Ask away! Unless you’re asking for me to cook, I think I’m too tired for that.”

“It’s not about cooking. It’s, well, it’s whether this relationship is fulfilling or not to you.”

“What?” The happiness leeched from your voice as you stared at Ningguang.

“I heard some people talking today, saying that I wasn’t a worthy partner, that I was too emotionally detached. I know that you have never expressed such an opinion, but I cannot help but wonder if I’m truly giving you what people want in a relationship. You said yourself that we hardly spend time together anymore, and I know how much you value quality time. As such, I feel that I have to lay out all your options. If you feel that this relationship is no longer viable, then I understand.”

“Ningguang what in Teyvat are you talking about?” You burst out. Swiftly closing the distance between you two, you intertwined your fingers with Ningguang’s. “You don’t really think that I would share the opinion of some people who know nothing about you and us do you?”

“It’s not just them!” Ningguang pointed out. “I’ve heard the same things from colleagues. Besides this wasn’t brought on all of a sudden. For a while now I’ve been wondering if I truly have the capacity to make you happy.”

“Well let me clear that up immediately, the answer is yes.”

You stared into Ningguang’s eyes, expression one of stubborn surety. There was no sense of doubt in your posture or your voice. For the first time in a while Ningguang found herself somewhat calm.

“Let me tell you something Ningguang, relationships aren’t the same for everyone, nor is love. Some people need huge declarations of love, need to always be attached to their partner, need a constant supply of affection. And some need only small gestures, shorter periods of time, a softer form of support. Neither of these are inherently better than the other. Just because we don’t go out to eat every night, just because you place care and effort into your work and choose to spend your time on it, that doesn’t mean that I don’t love you any less, or that your love doesn’t reach me. I’m proud of your work, I’m proud to call my partner the Tianquan; and if other people cannot understand or accept that, then frankly I don’t care.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure!” You let out a laugh, throwing your arms around your partner. “My mind is very made up on this. Besides, you’re much more affectionate than you let on.”

It was as if she’d been suddenly freed from a cage, so immediate was the relief that washed over Ningguang. Returning the embrace she sighed softly, overwhelmed by the love and confidence in your words.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Don’t thank me for anything, you would do the exact same for me.”

“Perhaps you’re right, but thank you nevertheless. Thank you.”

“Well then you’re welcome; though I would do anything for the woman I love.”

“I love you too.”

There was nothing more to say.

 Zhongli

“I hope that it ends soon.”

Those words had sent Zhongli spiraling, reeling as the ground crumbled beneath him and he plunged into some dark unknown. How had he gotten here, it didn’t seem to make sense.

He hadn’t wanted to step upon your freedom, to limit you in any way. Though Zhongli wasn’t perhaps the greatest expert on human feelings, he knew that in one way they differed greatly from archons and adepti. Humans always vied for freedom. The freedom to choose, the freedom to do, the freedom to go or stay. While the gods always found any sort of profound change incredibly difficult, an erosion on their power and their influence, humans craved the ways that time waxed and waned, the world with it.

As such he didn’t attempt to put any sort of confinement on your relationship. Being the first human Zhongli had had any meaningful emotional contact with, he was absolutely determined that your relationship should be framed around your needs, which were certainly more demanding as a human being than Zhongli’s could ever be. Not that he ever found himself lacking, indeed it seemed sometimes to the ex-archon as if you were more aware of what his wishes were than he was of yours. When he needed assurance you were there, when something required some sort of explanation or reiteration you were glad to provide it. No matter the time or the place or the setting you were liberal with your love. Zhongli could only hope he provided the same for you.

Perhaps that was why your words surprised him so much. Zhongli knew that your friend was coming over for tea, and had made an effort to leave the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor earlier than usual, much to the annoyance of his pseudo-employer. Though he expect you to be earlier than him, he certainly hadn’t expected your sudden volte-face, the sudden revelation that all was not well.

Not that he could ask about your statement while your friend was visiting, the ex-archon knew that you hated a scene as much as he did, and he doubted he’d be able to get an honest answer out of you with an audience watching. So as he entered, making sure to make as much noise as possible to alert you of his arrival, he tried to bury the sentence in the back of his mind, hoping that it would stay put as long as possible.

Thankfully for Zhongli it is much easier to be patient when one is an immortal former deity. Though time certainly seemed slower than usual, the conversation you and your friend had more difficult to follow than usual, it was nothing that he couldn’t handle. Letting you and your friend chat about anything from work to pets to weather, only interrupting when asked about the tea, Zhongli spent the afternoon turning over your words in his head, and wondering what he was going to say.

Finally the sun dipped behind the buildings, and as the long shadows of evening began to cast themselves down your friend left. Keeping himself as formal as possible during the entire encounter Zhongli let out a soft sigh when the door closed behind them. Even if what was to come was not something he was particularly looking forward to, Zhongli had long ago learned that immediate pain is better than drawn out suffering.

“You were awfully quiet this afternoon.” You pointed out, going to clear up the plates.

“I, I had not noticed. I am sorry.”

“It’s fine, I know that they’re a bit of a talker anyways. Still I was hoping you might say more, my friends already ask me about your reticence, and I don’t want to feed their imaginations.”

“My apologies, I will try to do better.”

“Don’t sweat it really, I’m just rambling.” You smiled as Zhongli began to put away the tea set. “I always love watching you clean the china, it’s so peaceful to watch.”

“I am glad you enjoy it so much,” Zhongli replied, careful to keep his hands from trembling. The conversation loomed ahead of him, dark and unfamiliar, and he didn’t want to break anything in the process. “I, uh, I noticed that you were discussing something when I walked in.”

“I’m sorry we started before you, I didn’t know how long Hu Tao would hold you up. She’s surprisingly persuasive, at least when she’s not selling coffins.” You let out a giggle.

“In light of your conversation, I would like to offer you something.”

“Yes?” You furrowed your brow, evidently puzzled.

“I would like to offer you an end to our relationship.”

“Excuse me?” Your mouth dropped open as you jolted up suddenly in your chair. “What, why? I… what?”

“I do not wish to cause you any pain by forcing you to draw this out. If you wish for things to end quickly, then you ought not to worry about stalling. I promise that I will not contain you.”

“Zhongli, I don’t understand what you’re saying?” Your voice sounded very raw. “Are you saying, are you saying that you don’t want to be in a relationship anymore.”

“No.” Zhongli replied slowly, feeling as if the situation had altogether managed to reverse itself. “I am only saying that if I am tying you down, that if I am no longer making you happy, then you do not have to continue this relationship.”

“Zhongli, I don’t understand why you would ever think that I would want that.”

“But you said ‘I hope that it ends soon’.”

For a moment you stared at your partner, but then something seemed to overtake you and you began to laugh, an awkward sound stranded between relief and humor.

“A commission I was talking about a commission! There’s this tradesman who is trying to set up some sort of security measures with the Guild while he’s stopped in Liyue, and it’s taking up most of my time. It’s why I haven’t visited you at the Funeral Parlor recently as well. Believe me Zhongli, I would never want to break up with you, the idea of doing so makes me miserable.”

“Ah, I see.”

Zhongli wasn’t sure whether he should feel overwhelming relief or embarrassment. That question was put off however as you walked over to where he was sitting and threw your arms around him. Returning the embrace Zhongli pressed soft kisses all over your face. Relief washed over him, and he felt almost dizzy with relief. Though he had tried to tell himself that he wouldn’t let his own emotions rob you of your agency, now that the moment had passed the ex-archon could admit how truly shaken he was, and how much the idea of his days spend utterly devoid of your presence seemed unbearably lonely.

“I still don’t know how you ever jumped to such a conclusion.” You mumbled, leaning over to press a soft kiss on Zhongli’s lips.

The rest of the evening had been spent in a revery of frantic relief, both of you unwilling to stray very far from each other’s arms. Now the two of you lay tangled in bed together, overlapping limbs a solid reminder that all was well with the world.

“I do not want to rob you of your agency,” Zhongli replied, “I fear that I will tie you down. I know that the gods are old and staid, and unlikely to change. I know as well that humans often find such atmospheres stifling, and I fear that one day such a thing will come to pass.”

“Just because humans change their minds easily or want to travel or grow or whatever doesn’t mean that they don’t need an anchor,” you pointed out, voice heavy with fatigue, “we all need somewhere to go back to, we all need a home. You’re my home Zhongli, I never want to leave you.”

“You are my home as well. And I wish not to leave you either.”

“I’m glad the matter is settled then.” You smiled softly, before finally closing your eyes and drifting off to sleep.

“As am I.”

Zhongli lay awake a while, listening to the soft cadence of your breath. You had said it was humans that needed an anchor, but perhaps immortal beings did too. After all, you were the thing that kept Zhongli tethered to the world and the humans around him, and he loved you all the more for it.

[binniedeactivated]

— #txt reactions.

(toxic txt....)

a/n; hey guysssss <3 toxic txt under the cut

╰┈➤ soobin --- it finally happened and you couldn't be happier. you were waiting for this moment since you first got the job. especially since you worked your ass off in that place day and night, picking up the slack that your coworkers left for you. you were excited that all of that work didn't go to waste and that your boss finally saw the value you held at the company. when you finally came home you just wanted to do a happy dance across the kitchen floor. a $25,000 raise and a promotion was enough to make you dance like no one was watching. except, someone was watching and it was your beloved husband soobin, who was currently cooking and smirking a little at how giddy you looked. "someone's excited?", he spoke, stirring the food in the pot. you turned to hang your coat on the coat rack trying to hold back how much you wanted to just run around the house. "I have good news baby". he fetches the seasonings across from him. "what is it?". you exhaled, "remember when I'd come home complaining about work and how lazy my coworkers are and how they never do anything?". soobin nods and hums. "mhm?". your heart started to pound. "well.. I don't have to do that anymore because i finally got a raise and a promotion! And I'm making more money than them now. I even get to manage several locations I'm so excited!". you were expecting a lot of reactions out of soobin, but one thing you weren't expecting was for him to go completely cold after that sentence. he didn't smile or jump around with you. he just stood there and continued cooking as if you didn't say anything at all. "soobin?". he hums in response. "did you hear me? I just said I got a promotion and a raise". he nods his head. "yeah I heard you". you throw your hands down at your sides, getting pissed. "so? you're not going to be happy for me?". he leans his hands on the counter giving you a deathly stare. "you don't ever think before you take things? like honestly. how are you going to manage several locations that are much too far from the house? that position is too much". he said annoyingly. you couldn't believe he was being like this. "it's a position that's going to get me closer to the position I really want to be in. why are you turning this into something negative?". he continues stirring, "because it is. it's a dumb decision".

╰┈➤ yeonjun --- as soon as you guys started this type of relationship you agreed it would be a strictly friends with benefits type of deal. no romance or anything of that sort. just sex. good enough sex to satisfy you both throughout your stressors of life. you couldn't get enough of yeonjun and he couldn't get enough of you. he knew exactly how to handle you. but as yeonjun came and went from tour to tour around the world, you had kids. two of them. and it was getting difficult by the day caring for them by yourself and taking in all the finanical responsibility especially if their father was a pop star. yes, yeonjun was their father and you had yet to tell him. in order to cover things up you told him you were screwing around with one of your exes, which yeonjun didn't really care about since he was only with you just for the sex anyways. well, that's mainly what scared you. he didn't care about you or your life, just sex with you. it was the weekend just before yeonjun was scheduled to go on another tour again, and after another session with him he had fallen asleep beside you. money was getting tight and you were on the verge of almost losing your home due to caring for the kids. you decided that it was time he knew, so that he could at least help you. you shook him gently until his eyes fluttering open. "yeonjun? we need to talk". he rubs his eyes and yawns. "about?". you bit the sides of your tongue nervously. "i haven't been honest with you". you admitted, leaving yeonjun to immediately give you a heart wrenching stare that gave you goosebumps. that was another thing about yeonjun. he had a temper equivalent to a lion's roar. "what are you talking about?". you breathed. "those kids? that I told you were from my ex...they're not. they're yours. I had them while you were touring and I hid most of my pregnancy from you and I'm sorry. I'm struggling to raise them alone and I really need a father figure to help me with this". he immediately exhales and facepalms himself in distress. "why are you just now telling me this shit?". "I was scared of what you were going to say". "you don't just drop that on someone. especially while I'm in the midst of another tour-- i can't do this right now". he grabs his shirt and wrestles it over his head. "where are you going?". "I'm leaving. I have to deal with this when I'm ready to deal with it". he lifts himself off the bed and you panic when he walk towards the door. "yeonjun I'm telling you I need help I can't do this alone". he doesn't even look at you before he shuts the door behind himself. "I have to go".

╰┈➤ beomgyu --- "well I think this house is perfect for you both and I can't wait to see you two moving in it". you nodded at your realtor, doing the last walk around in the home you and beomgyu dreamt of having. you wished he could've been here, the moment you guys were finally going to pay the closing costs and settle things just before moving in. but unfortunately he told you that he had to work almost all day today and he wouldn't have the time. you thought this was kind of a special moment but you didn't want to make such a fuss about it. you instead did things on your own, pooling out your wallet to pay the money that would make you and beomgyu home owners. but once you unzipped your wallet you realized that every wad of cash that you held within it was gone. your stomach churned at the sight, not believing this was happening to you at this moment. you gave a nervous chuckle at your realtor, doing another search through your purse trying to figure out if it dropped in there perhaps. you could've sworn it was in your wallet beforehand. looking through your purse hadn't helped, you could only find a couple of old crumpled dollar bills. what was once the most happiest moment of your life quickly became the most embarrassing. and to make matters worse you recalled that beomgyu had been spending more than usual lately, thousands at a time in fact and claiming that it was for work. nothing made you more angry than being embarrassed like that in front of your realtor and possibly loosing the home, most of this anger is the anger that you unleashed on beomgyu as soon as he walked in the door that night. "so what the fuck gyu? what the fuck was that today?". he kicked his shoes off at the door tiredly. "what are you talking about?". he asks even though he knew already. he expected this to happen."you know that house that we already started buying? yeah the closing fee had to be paid today and you knew that. where did all that money go?! why the fuck are you spending so much money?! that was the house that we always wanted". "I didn't spend the money. I don't know what your problem is, blaming me when you're the one being irresponsible". "you're a liar! that closing money was in my wallet for weeks. now all of a sudden when I'm about to spend it it's gone. you have bad spending habits and lately they've gotten worse. where's the fucking money gyu?". he said nothing, just continued walking passed you and getting ready for bed like you weren't even there. he knew what he spent the money on. strippers and explicit services from different women. but that was the last thing he was going to tell you. you swallowed hard and continued speaking. your cheeks burned with fury. "and to top it all off you knew I wanted that house to be ours so we can build a family and start our life in it. why do you do fucked up shit and just not care?". he finally shifted his attention towards you, looking more mellow than anything else. "you need to calm down. alright? I didn't spend it. and if anything, we can find a house somewhere else. it isn't that serious and you need to stop blaming me for everything".

╰┈➤ taehyun --- it always got like this when taehyun was drunk. and taehyun drank pretty often. he wasn't a stranger to liquor and that's what made you most afraid when he got a hold of any. especially on a night like this. your job was having a banquet in celebration of your boss and you were required to attend. you bought a beautiful gown for yourself and of course a lot of expensive makeup and jewelry. you wanted to look your absolute best since almost every executive you could name would be there. but unfortunately taehyun was home, drinking and watching you get ready. he winced at the burning sensation of the liquor slithering down his throat. "where do you think you're going?". you could see him through your long mirror, looking like a drunken mess. his eyes were hazed and he didn't really look like himself. not the sweetheart taehyun that you once knew, the one that used his funny and romantic personality to reel you in the beginning. "I'm going to a banquet taehyun. it's for my boss and I can't be late". he swallows and takes another look at you. "you think you're going anywhere looking like that? what? are you planning on leaving me?". you should've. you should've left him a long time ago as soon as he started to show signs and you knew it. "It's a banquet taehyun. I have to look my best. I can't be looking crazy in front of everyone". he did that fake laugh that you hated. "stop being a liar. you think you're leaving me, and I'm not letting that happen". you shake your head. "don't start this. not tonight. I told you I have somewhere to be and I'm telling the truth. If I were leaving you I would've been gone already". he gives another throaty laugh before taking another swig of his drink. he was nothing like you thought he was when you first met him. "please. you would've been gone already? do you really think there's people out there that want you?". you snapped your head back at him in shock. "what?". "I said do you really think there's people out there that want you? you're lucky that you even have me. you haven't left me not because you don't want to, but because you can't". you clenched your jaw tightly in a fit of rage. "what?". he smirked. he liked whenever he hit a nerve with you. "you heard me. you made me like this. drinking all the time and shit. you drive me crazy. you see how much you've ruined me? you're a toxic piece of shit and no one else is going to put up with you".

╰┈➤ kai --- you both talked about this already. way before your relationship had even started heuning assured that he was completely fine with it. you had a son from your previous boyfriend and kai offered to care for him even though he wasn't exactly his. your son wasn't the problem but it was your ex that drove kai up a wall. he hated the way that your ex was still in love with you. he hated the way he looked at you. he hated the way he talked to you, sweet, and almost as if he was trying his absolute best to win your heart back. what you didn't know about kai was that his jealousy streak was far beyond anything you could ever imagine. so much that he wouldn't even be able to stomach the thought of you with someone else. or you having friends even, taking away the time you could've been spending with him. his jealousy went to unbearable lengths, most of which you haven't seen because he hid this trait from you. it was your son's third birthday, you were throwing a party from him in the backyard of your home. it was the cutest thing kai had ever saw and he wanted to just jump in the bouncy houses along with the kids. but instead, your boyfriend put his childlike traits away and steadily watched you and the father of your child talking across the yard. he couldn't tell what the conversation was about but he saw the man smiling. it didn't take much for kai to make assumptions and as of now he assumed he was flirting with you yet again. he approached the both of you, sliding his arm around your waist and kissing you on your cheek right in front of him. he could see the anger simmering in the man's eyes but kai didn't care. he does that smile that he does for everyone. the smile that made him look like an innocent child "baby I think jae had an accident in the bouncy house", kai informed you. you hurried to the child's aid just like he wanted, leaving him and the man alone. kai reaches into his back pocket and discreetly flicks up his blade, pushing it against the man's clothed stomach. the man's eyes grew large at the sudden threat. kai smirked at his fear. his smile faded and his eyes grew incredibly dark. "flirt with my fiancé again and I promise this blade will go straight through you".

[hmslusitania]

just realized I never sent you one of these myself! I read so many of yours that I just. forgot to send my own. anyways...how about...7 & 8 for buddie? :D

7. Florist AU + 8. Hospital AU

You get the extremely dubious honour of being the last of these I write, as well as me starting this at half past midnight.

So, Eddie Diaz is a nurse. And he’s very good at his job. The patients like him because he’s straightforward with them, but he’s got that dry humour and makes some pretty good faces when occasion calls for it.

The one trouble is, the hospital where he works has a weird trend of patients without local family. No one’s really sure why, but usually, rather than visitors, most of the patients Eddie sees receive flowers.

It’s not really Eddie’s job to tend to the flowers, but sometimes a patient -- like a little wizened grandmother who’s in with her third kidney stone in the past six months and whose entire family lives back east somewhere -- will ask him to change the water or clip the dead leaves off.

But, see, Eddie may be very good at keeping human patients alive? He may as well be a walking grim reaper of plants.

Fortunately, cut flowers are a bit of a shitshow anyway so he doesn’t really have to worry about ruining someone’s bouquet. By the time the plants all shrivel and die because he looked at them wrong, the patient has usually been discharged anyway.

He figures out that the flowers typically come from the same floral shop when the deliveries change.

His patients stop receiving bouquets in vases and instead start getting live, potted plants that they’re supposed to be able to take home and plant in their own gardens like a symbol of hope and vitality or whateverthefuck and every time one of Eddie’s patients has asked him if he’d be a dear and water their tiny, wretched shrub for them, it has died.

One patient? Gets a succulent delivered from a niece in Tucson -- direct from Buck’s Garden, three blocks from the hospital -- on Monday, only hours after she’s admitted. Eddie waters it at her request on Tuesday, and when she gets discharged on Wednesday, he goes to help her pack her succulent and the second he brushes one of the lobe-leaf-whatever-things, the entire plant dissolves into green goo.

Eddie has better things to do on his day off -- sort of, it’s not like he really has a social life and Chris is at a sleepover -- but he goes to Buck’s Garden anyway. Surely, he should be able to talk whichever sales person has been recommending live plants back into sending cut flowers? He is prepared to attempt eyelash-batting if it comes to it (One of his coworkers, Maddie down in the ER, has told him repeatedly he could probably convince anyone to do anything if he batted his eyes right -- not her, though, she’s happily married to a paramedic and no, she’s not going to trade shifts with him on Saturday, she’s very pregnant and has an obstetrician appointment).

Eddie is unprepared when he steps into the humid, misty (??) garden shop for the man behind the counter. He’s taller than Eddie, he’s wearing a very battered flannel rolled up to the elbows and a backwards baseball cap, and he greets Eddie with a dimpled, thousand-watt smile and pretty blue eyes, and Eddie almost turns around and leaves.

But the are-you-kidding-me!hot guy behind the counter asks if he can help before Eddie can run for it, and Eddie finds himself spilling the whole ridiculous story. To Buck, apparently, of the shop’s name.

Buck is deeply concerned by the fate of the plants he’s been selling to long-distance customers, but especially because, as it turns out, Buck’s sister works at Eddie’s hospital and had specifically told him that the nurses in Eddie’s ward were worried about the glass vases that came with cut flowers and would prefer the plastic pots. For, y’know, safety.

It takes the boys a bit too long to put together that Maddie has been playing a longcon on them because she knows exactly how Eddie feels about plants -- he’s complained about it to her in the breakroom often enough -- and she had hedged her bets that eventually, with enough pressure, Eddie would go to the apparent source of the problem: her brother, Evan Buckley, sole proprietor of Buck’s Garden.

“Think of how many plants would still be alive today if you’d just had the common decency to set us up on a blind date like a normal person!” Buck complains, months later, over the top of a stack of boxes.

“Think of how many fewer patients I would’ve annoyed for killing their gifts,” Eddie adds, over the top of his own boxes.

“As if either of you would’ve let me set you up on a blind date,” Maddie replies, which is fair enough, Eddie decides. “Besides. It worked, didn’t it?”

And yeah, Eddie thinks while he steps around the boxes of kitchen wares and gardening implements from Buck’s old apartment that are now stacked in the middle of their living room, yeah it had.

There are Other mashups you can read!

[feliix]

halloween hookup ↠ lee minho

↠ CEO!Minho x Reader

↠ Genre: Smut, fluff(ish), coworkers 2 lovers

↠ Rating: M (18+)

↠ Word Count: 4.9k

↠ Summary: The details of your company Halloween bash are all a blur once you wake the next morning, well, at least until you notice your boss Lee Minho lying beside you in an unfamiliar bed.

↠ Warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, fingering, nipple play, semi-public sex, nudes (but not the kind you think of lmao), dum/sub themes, mentions of alcohol and drinking. (though this fic does not include sexual intercourse following the consumption of alcohol, please remember to drink responsibly and that consent is not consent if you are under the influence!)

↠ A/N: here’s to spooky season and minho day (even though i’m a day late oopsie). and as always thank you to @jinterlude​ for beta reading ily ♡

The bright morning sun creeps through your curtains, scattering light through your bedroom and grazing your bare skin with its rays. A peaceful way to start your Saturday morning, you muse, snuggling deeper into your bed. As you come to your senses, you notice something is quite off. The room smells stale, your sheets feel slightly more scratchy than usual, and something is weighing down over your waist.

Your eyes snap open, realizing that the object weighing down your waist is in fact, someone's arm. The sheets you’re lying over are not yours, and the odd aroma that’s filling the room can not compare to the sweet scent of your own apartment. As if that isn’t bad enough, you’re not able to identify whose arm is slung over your body, pulling your waist backward against their warm bare chest.

Where am I?

Without waking up the unknown man, you carefully shift your weight to release yourself from his grasp. You take your head into your hands, gently massaging your temples trying to relieve the hangover paging through your brain.

The memories from the previous night are stale in your mind. You rack your brain, trying to come up with some reason as to why you’re here and exactly how you yourself got into this position. You sit up in bed, cautiously wrapping the sheets over your body. It seems like a dream or distant illusion, and you can’t quite piece together how it all went down.

You remember being at the company Halloween bash, you remember having useless small talk with a bunch of your coworkers, playing some stupid game that definitely would have been better if it involved some alcohol, and then it got even lamer, so you left with Minho.

Oh my gosh. You left with Minho. As in your boss, Lee Minho.

Your head whips around your body to look at the sleeping body lying next to you as if you’re expecting to see anyone else placed beside you. The memories of what happened last night come flooding back to you, and it went something like this.

The party was held in your office conference room, which was just big enough to squeeze all 20 people in your department into one space, but small enough where you would bump up against the person next to you if you moved too abruptly. Various types of appetizers and finger foods lined the long meeting table which stretched the entire length of the room. There was also a small end table in the corner topped with various types of soda, a bowl of punch, and some booze that George from IT brought. Not that you would ever drink at an office party, that was way too risky.

A few girls from HR had decided to decorate with some cut out pumpkins they printed off some computer paper and orange streamers that were probably leftover from your last boss's going away party.

After your last boss had left, your company hired Lee Minho, a young business professional from a different location that your company owned. Mr. Lee was a pretty laid back guy compared to your last boss. It was pretty weird having a boss as young as Mr. Lee, but he always made sure to bring some fun into the workplace whenever he could, like this Halloween bash for instance. Not to mention, he was the most attractive boss you'd ever had. All the other female employees seemed to agree, swooning over him with every opportunity that they were given.

Mr. Lee also really enjoyed flirting with his employees, male and female. It was hard to tell if he was being nice or just hitting on you the first time he complimented your outfit. The next time he complimented your blouse you noticed his eyes wandering down to your boobs, and you knew it was not just an innocent compliment, but hey, he was attractive so you were definitely not complaining about it.

The feeling of your phone vibrating in your back pocket of your denim skirt startled you, causing you to jump before fumbling your hands back to reach for the device.

Mr. Lee: I like your cat ears ;)

The sides of your lips lifted into a small smirk before picking your head up to look for Minho across the room. He gave you a small smile and finished his gesture off with a wink before you looked back down, sliding open your phone and responding.

Y/N: thanks! where's your costume? corporate won't let you join in on the fun for once :(

Mr. Lee was dressed in his usual attire, some black dress pants, and a black button-down, but accompanied by a very festive orange and black halloween tie. The slender fit of his shirt made his shoulders look especially broad in comparison to his narrow waist.

Before you could even look up from your phone Minho was standing by your side with a cup of punch in each hand, tilting his head towards one of the glasses to offer it up to you. Nodding your head, you smiled a thank you and took the red cup from his grasp.

You coolly leaned your back against the wall behind you, trying to stay out of the way of all the useless chatter going on between the coworkers surrounding you. Mr. Lee was quick to follow suit, sliding his legs down a little further away from the wall so he could match your height.

"This party is kind of lame," he whispered in your ear, earning him a small grin and soft chuckle from you. Most of the employees at your office were much older than you, so it was hard for you to connect with them. They all had their own families and children, where you had just become financially stable enough to move out of your parent’s house.

"You think anyone will notice if we leave?" You said sarcastically, playing along with his charade, just equally bored of the small talk your coworkers were making around you.

"Yeah, but I think I can get us out of it," he replied smoothly, pushing his back off of the wall and walked towards the conference room door, shooting you a quick wink before he made his exit. You had no idea what Minho had in store to get you out of this party but you sure hope it was good.

Not a minute later, the desk phone in the conference room began to ring. Everyone shot each other questioning glares, slightly confused as to who would be calling the office after hours on a Friday. Minho's secretary sauntered over to the phone before holding her index finger over her lips, signaling everyone around her to be quiet.

"Hello this is Amy," she said, cocking her head to the side and furrowing her brows, trying to understand what the caller was saying at the other end of the line. Her expression quickly changed to a small smile as she looked around the room, eyes landing on you before responding to the caller.

"I'll let her know. Thank you, Mr. Lee," Amy replied before hanging up the phone, "Y/N, Mr. Lee needs help with something and would like for you to meet him in his office as soon as possible."

Trying your hardest not to let a smirk creep onto your face, you nodded your head and placed your unfinished drink down on the table. Curious to see what Minho had in-store to get you out of the party, you made your way out of the conference room and to his office.

Peeking through the office window, you saw Minho seated at his desk on his phone. His legs were crossed with his feet placed upon the surface in front of him. The small lamp on his desk dimly illuminated the room, reflecting some light off of his shiny black shoes. He raised his head, eyes wandering away from his phone as you cracked open the door to his office.

"Mr. Lee, you needed help with something?" You inquired sweetly, giving him a grin while making your way into the room.

"Ah, I've been waiting for you." He joked smiling back at you, "Shut the door behind you." You obliged, carefully wrapping your fingers around the handle and closing the door lightly, sure to not make a sound.

"Is everything alright?" You asked, moving closer to Minho as he swung his legs off the desk and placed his feet on the ground.

"Well I figured we could have our own fun, that party was so lame," he said, holding his hand out for you to take. You hesitated, wondering where this was going but you took his hand in yours, curious to find out. He pulled you in closer so your frame stood between his legs, making your heart jump in your chest.

"What did you have in mind?" You smirked, feeling your body beginning to grow warm with anticipation.

"Hmm," he started, patting his thigh for you to take a seat on, "something not so spooky I suppose."

A knot began to form in your throat, causing you to swallow hard before stuttering out the word "Spooky?" and sitting down on his thigh.

Minho softly chuckled, "I've never seen anyone look so sexy in cat ears before, you were driving me insane in there."

Your breathing hitched as he placed a hand on your thigh, gently stroking your skin up to the hem of your skirt. "Is this okay, baby girl?" His eyebrow raised in question, watching your expression shift into a flustered one. You keened at the pet name, feeling heat rush right to your cheeks. Slowly, you nodded your head in response, unable to trust your voice in a time like this.

"Um, I didn't know you thought about me this way Mr. Lee," you stifled out while uncomfortably shifting around on his lap. Minho caught his bottom lip between his teeth, suppressing a low groan before shifting his body as well, feeling his member harden as he leaned further back into his chair.

"Call me Minho," he smirked, brushing his thumb over your cheek and to your hair, sweeping it over your shoulder.

"O-Okay," you stammered, growing flustered from his sweet yet sensual actions.

"Do you think about me this way, baby girl?" He said smugly, almost as if he knew the response you would be giving him in return.

"Yes, Minho," you unknowingly admitted. The words felt foreign coming out of your mouth, it felt odd calling your boss by his first name. But in some weird way, you liked knowing that he felt more turned on by you compared to the other female coworkers that were desperate for his attention.

"What do you think about, hmm?" Minho hummed, a short smirk fixed on his face. Your eyes widened in embarrassment, choking back a whimper as his hand brushed up past the hem of your skirt. Biting your lip in an attempt to control your breath, his hand wandered higher, pushing your skirt further up to expose your panties.

His long fingers grazed the fabric of the underwear over your core. Letting out a short gasp, you quickly brought your hand up to cover your mouth to muffle the sound. Dragging his fingers along the growing wetness on your panties, Minho kept his eyes locked on your expression.

"I, I think about how nice you always look in your dress clothes," you stuttered, "but I really wonder what you look like under them."

Ending the statement confidently, it seemed as if someone else had taken control of your tongue. Minho raised his eyebrows, smirk still plastered on his face from his prior question. As you felt the bulge in his pants begin to protrude under you, he shifted in his chair once again. He cleared his throat, loosening his tie in the process before speaking up.

"We should go somewhere more private." Minho suggested as he moved you off of his lap. "I don't want to be somewhere that anyone could find us," He finished before pacing towards the hall outside of his office. Following behind him you obliged, walking towards the door and into the corridor. Before you could get very far a faint voice sounded off down the hallway.

"Mr. Lee?" Minho's secretary called out from down the hall.

"Shit," he mumbled under his breath, grabbing your hand and swiftly pulling you into the nearest room to avoid Amy.

The copy room was dark. The small touchscreen on the copy machine and the light that peeked in through the small, rectangular window on the door barely lit the room enough for you to see what was right in front of you.

Breathing heavily, Minho pushed your back up against the door trying to remain out of sight as he followed suit beside you. The feeling of hiding from your coworker with your boss was thrilling, something that was easily so wrong, and definitely against HR policy, excited you.

"Mr. Lee? Are you still here?" Amy called from the hallway outside the copy room door. Minho's startled eyes wandered out the small window on the top of the door to see where his secretary could be.

"Fuck," he let out a deep breath before ducking away from the window.

Minho flipped his body so that he was facing you, placing his arms on either side of your head and his forehead resting on yours. He slowly brought his index finger to your lips, motioning you to stay quiet so you wouldn't be found.

Minho's warm, deep breaths met the skin of your cheeks, his long arm hovered over you, restricting you between his body and the wooden door behind you. The mere inches between your bodies left you craving for his touch yet again. You bit your lip to try and ease your breathing, looking up at Minho through your long eyelashes.

He placed his palm over your lips, trying to silence your deep breaths from the woman pacing around the corridor only a few feet away. His gaze was deep and sultry, it felt as though he was looking straight through you and directly to your thoughts. If only he knew the types of things going through your mind right now – such inappropriate things for an employee to think about their boss.

Tension grew as you stood there, body pressed against Minho’s as you waited for Amy to pass. Being in such close proximity to him was affecting you in ways you would've never imagined. Heat flooded to your core with each deep breath you took; Minho’s seductive stare only furthered your desire.

Without saying a word, Minho removed his hand from your mouth and replaced it with his own. The kiss caught you off guard, causing you to let out a small gasp in return. Minho smiled at your reaction, clearly satisfied with how he was taking you by surprise. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip asking for entrance, in which you easily obliged, slowly parting your lips and allowing him to kiss you even more passionately.

Minho’s knee found its place spreading your thighs apart slowly, teasing you as he rubbed it against your throbbing clit in the process. With slight hesitation, he quickly peeked his head up to the window one more time, making sure that the coast was clear before leaning back down to attach his lips to yours. His hands roamed your body down to the small of your back, pulling you in even closer to him.

Pressing your breasts to his chest, you slid your hand between your two bodies. Your hand found its way down to the bulge in his pants, lightly groping it before earning a moan of approval from him. Instinctively he began to grind into your hand, becoming even needier for your touch.

Minho’s breathing became instantly jagged from the moment you first touched his growing member. Perspiration began to gather at the top of Minho's exposed forehead, the small strands of dark hair framing his face hastily became damp. Your callous touch accompanied with sweet kisses to his lips sent Minho into a state of hunger; his demeanor instantly changed, electrifying the mood of the room.

Minho’s fingertips dragged down your body and to the hem of your blouse, tugging on it slightly before seeking approval to remove it from your body. There’s not enough time to respond before you were fiddling with the tie around his neck, loosening it and slipping it over his head to have better access to the buttons that lined his shirt. Your hands moved swiftly trying to undo each one before Minho's hands reached for his belt, causing you to bring your hands back to your own body.

In an unspoken rhythm, you both discarded your bottoms, leaving Minho standing naked as you wore just your silky black bra. A low moan left his lips as his hand cupped your breast, massaging gently before slipping his thumb underneath the thin fabric to play with your nipple. His touch left goosebumps all over your body, taking the sensation of his calloused fingertips against such a sensitive area.

You threw your head back in pleasure giving Minho access to your neck. Hungrily, he attached his lips just above your collarbone, sucking light marks into your skin. His hands moved to your back, unlatching the clasp of your bra and removing it from your body. The stimulation from both his lips and his fingers left your core aching for more, leaving moisture to accumulate between your thighs.

Without a second to spare, Minho’s hand’s were roaming down your body, parting your legs and dragging his finger down your wet slit. You moaned in response, keening into his touch as sweat began to gather on your brow.

With one quick swipe against your clit you were jumping at the contact. “Minho,” you moaned, “need your fingers inside me.”

A stern look crossed his face, making his seductive expression even more dark and lustful than before. “You have to be quiet,” his voice carried a serious tone as he placed a finger to your lips, “we don’t want Amy coming to look for us again, do we?” His question lingered as he leaned in closer to you, whispering the words softly, before leaving with a small nip to your earlobe causing you to shudder.

“Jump,” Minho ordered, grabbing your ass with each hand as you followed his request, jumping as his strong arms secured themselves around you. Each of your legs rested on each side of his body, gripping him tightly so you wouldn't fall. Minho held his body tightly up against you, taking his time by teasing you and dragging his member along your wet slit ever so slowly.

His hard member slid into you carefully, allowing you time to adjust to his size before pushing himself all the way in. You threw your head back against the wall in pleasure, becoming accustomed to the feeling of his hard shaft stretching out your walls. Slowly, Minho began pumping in and out of you at a slow pace. He was careful not to make too much noise, giving you slow and shallow thrusts before working his way to a faster pace.

He soon attached his lips to yours, moaning into the kiss as you basked in the taste of fruity residue left from the punch he was sipping on earlier. The room was becoming hot and stuffy, the window above you becoming cloudy as your bodies perspired. His movements were fluid and intentional, rocking you against the door as he held you tightly in his grip.

"Hold on," Minho whispered, pulling you off of the wall and walking towards the back of the room. His muscular arms held your body tightly against his, making sure no space was left between you.

Minho pulled out slowly, the sensation of your aching pussy berating your thoughts as he and let go of your legs. Your shaky legs were left to steady themselves on the ground, stumbling to hold onto Minho’s firm chest for support.. Grabbing you by your waist, he quickly turned your body to face the copy machine. In one swift motion you watched him lift open up the top of the machine, letting the beam of light underneath the glass panel illuminate your naked figure. His bare chest was placed flush against your back, standing so close that you could feel his racing heartbeat.

"Bend over," Minho ordered as his hand rested on the small of your back, guiding you to push your chest closer to the copy machine. Following his orders, you pressed your body against the machine, shivering from the cold sensation of the glass panel brushing against your sensitive nipples.

Minho grabbed onto your ass, squeezing it gently as he guided himself back into you. You let out a quiet whine, wrapping your fingers onto the sides of the copy machine to try and stabilize yourself. He returned back to a steady pace, rocking into you with ease while his firm hands caressed your back.

"Fuck Y/N," Minho moaned, "you're taking me so well."

His hand grabbed at your hair harshly, making a makeshift ponytail with his fist, as he pulled your head up. Arching your back, you couldn't help but let out a loud moan in reaction to the new depths Minho was reaching in your dripping core.

"I wanna hear you," Minho grunted between thrusts, his strokes becoming faster and harder. Incapable of using your words, you let out another whine squeezing your eyes shut completely, focused on the sensation of his thick member filling you up and the feeling of his hips hitting your ass with each plunge.

"I'm close," your voice was whiny and weak. Minho picked up his pace, snapping his hips harder into you as one hand left its position on your hip. The loss of contact made you whine, but his hand soon found its place between your legs. His fingers lightly brushed against your swollen clit, the sensation making you see stars. Legs beginning to shake, your grip on the copy machine became firmer, needing to hold onto something in order to steady yourself. The added pleasure from his fingers sent you spiraling, choking you up and causing your eyes to water in bliss.

"Come for me Y/N, I wanna feel you cum all over my cock," he grunted, his voice low and sensual. Moving his hand faster, your clit was rolled between his fingertips. Your orgasm was just out of reach. The satisfaction was just out of reach. But Minho’s tender touch sent you over the edge, relying on the copy machine to hold his unstable body up.

"Minho," you mustered out, riding out your high, pussy throbbing around his dick. He hummed in response, too focused on chasing his own high to form any audible words. The low grunts leaving Minho’s lips became more and more frequent as his thrusts slowed, growing sloppier and careless. But his hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you still as he let out a string of profanities before collapsing onto your back.

Minho rested his head between your shoulder blades, chest heaving as he regained his composure before pulling out of you. Slowly, he stood up, taking a deep breath and admiring your exhausted figure before you followed behind him.

"Wow," was the only word that you could manage, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand as you turned to face him. Minho chuckled in response, smiling gingerly as he picked up your clothes, handing them back to you so that you could get dressed.

After pulling your top over your head your eyes did a quick scan around the room, confirming that you weren't leaving anything behind. If someone were to find an undergarment in here, it would be the talk of the office for at least a week. In the corner of your eye, you spotted a sheet of paper resting on the tray of the copy machine. Raising an eyebrow, you paced back over to the machine and lifted up the sheet.

"Oh. My. God."

You were frozen in place, eyes wide with shock as you look at the image before you. Minho soon whipped his body around, finishing off the buckle of his belt before wandering over to the copy machine.

"I'm so keeping that," Minho said, looking over your shoulder at the picture of your bare breasts printed on the paper gripped harshly in your hands. A smug smirk was plastered on his face as he continued to admire the crude photograph.

"Minho, do you know how this happened?" Your voice was filled with concern, turning your head to face him, sure he was up to something. His eyes were glued on the graphic photo you held in your hands, too zoned out to hear you speak.

"Minho," you repeated more firmly this time, finally gaining his attention back to you from the image, "did you do this?"

A small grin formed on his face, one side of his mouth lifted while he raised his eyebrows. He looked smug...too smug.

"Can't have anyone finding this, now can we?" He chuckled, taking this paper in his own hands and taking one last glance before ripping it into small pieces before tossing the pieces into the recycling bin and extending a hand to you. "I say we go celebrate the occasion with a drink, you in?" Taking his hand in yours, you nodded your head in agreement, following Minho out of the copy room.

"How does a some more punch sound? George brought an extra bottle of juice that I can snag and I’ve got a bottle of vodka at my place with our names on it." Minho spoke, earning a smile from you before walking out the office doors.

Suddenly you feel the mattress shift beside you, pulling you out of your daydream. Minho rolls over to face your direction with his eyes still closed, his mouth slowly opening before taking a deep breath.

"Good morning," he speaks, eyes fluttering open and taking in your disheveled appearance.

"Morning," you manage to mutter out, quickly breaking eye contact, unable to face him from the pure embarrassment filling your system.

"Last night was fun, huh?" He asks, the cheerfulness barely peeking through the groggy tone of his voice. "Last night?" You know exactly what he was talking about, but hope he’s referring to anything except what happened in the copy room.

"Yeah, we came back here to have a drink after we–"

"Oh okay yep! I remember. No need to go into any more details!" You cut him off before he can continue any further, covering your eyes to shield you from his gaze. The flesh on your cheeks are scorching hot with embarrassment.

As you go to stand up from the bed, hoping to quickly gather your things and rush out the door before Minho could mention anything else, his hand reaches for yours. He pulls you in closer to him until your face is near enough to touch; grazing the side of your warm cheeks before speaking again. You lower your head in embarrassment, unsure of what Minho is about to say.

"I really enjoyed our time together last night, I wouldn’t mind having you over again." He brushes the stray hairs away from falling into your eyes, lifting your chin up to meet his gaze afterward. Heart fluttering in response, you catch your lip between your teeth in an attempt to hide the large smile that’s threatening to peek through.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Minho stands up, reaching into the pocket of the pants he wore last night and pulling out a small folded up piece of paper.

"I believe this belongs to you," he curls up the ends of his mouth, biting back a smile while handing it to you. Confused, you unfold the paper revealing a picture of your very own breasts. As if the situation could not get any more embarrassing, Minho stares down at the paper in your hands, admiring your bare chest plastered in black and white, letting out a small chuckle.

As mortified as you are, you figure that the natural instinct to never talk to this man again would not work, seeing that Minho is your boss. Taking a deep breath, you try to find any sort of confidence that could still be left inside you. You look back up at him, cocking your head slightly to the side before reaching your arm out and handing him back the photo.

"Keep it, think of it as a Halloween gift." You say shooting him a smirk, internally crossing your fingers hoping for a good reaction. Minho snickers, taking the paper from your hand and looking at it one last time before folding it back up and holding it tightly in his palm.

"I'll keep it somewhere safe," He gives you a wink and shoves the paper deep into the pocket of his pajama pants.

"Happy Halloween, Minho."

‘Halloween Hookup’ is copyright 2020 @chaangbin​, all rights reserved. Please do not repost on any platform or translate without permission.

[drabbles-mc]

Sometime Around Midnight

Ezekiel Reyes x Reader

Request by Anon:  I have a request (feel free to ignore). I’ve been recently listening to that song “Sometime Around Midnight” by Airborne Toxic Event, and basically I think a fic based around those lyrics would fit ANY Mayan. I’d love to see someone give it a go :)

Warnings: language, angst, alcohol & smoking, EZ being a Sad Boy

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: I’ve been sitting on this request for a little while now. I was trying to figure out which of our boys I wanted to write it for, but then when I started drafting it for EZ this sorta just fell out of me haha. It doesn’t follow the song exactly, but I hope you like it nonetheless! Enjoy some angst for the Boy Scout xo

EZ Taglist: @ly--canthrope​ @noz4a2​ @queenbeered​ @sincerelyasomebody​ @sadeyesgf​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @appropriate-writers-name​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @sillygoose6969​ @louisianalady​ @gemini0410​ @paintballkid711​ @chibsytelford​ @yourwonkywriter​ @sesamepancakes​ @mayans-sauce​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @plentyoffandoms​ @georgiaaintnopeach​ @twistnet​ @amandinesblogofstuff​ @garbinge​ @bucky-iss-bae​ @enjoy-the-destruction​ @encounterthepast​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @rosieposie0624​ @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ @mijop​ (If you want to be tagged in any of my stuff or stuff for specific characters lemme know!)

They had warned you that it was a bad idea to get involved with any of the guys when you started working at the clubhouse as the new bartender. It had been a playful warning, but a very truthful one. And you hadn’t planned on crossing the lines of professionalism. You’d worked as a waitress and a bartender in what felt like a million different places, and you never had an issue when it came to keeping your personal and professional life separate. Don’t get involved with coworkers, and don’t get involved with the regular patrons. Working at the clubhouse meant that the guys from the MC fell into both categories simultaneously. Which you would’ve thought would make it easier to keep yourself from getting involved with any of them.

Yet somehow you found yourself making one little exception after another when it came to Ezekiel. There was just something about him that was hard to say no to. On top of the fact that you could stare at him all day and night without getting bored, there was something in the way that he spoke and smiled that made you feel safe. So you found yourself staying after everyone else had long since gone home to share one last beer with him. Letting him take you home on his bike turned into letting him come inside for a few minutes, which eventually turned into letting him stay the night. It all snowballed and you could’ve stopped it, but you didn’t want to. You knew it was a bad idea but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

It wasn’t supposed to be anything serious. Both of you agreed to that. Neither of you were really in a place in life where you were up for intense commitment. It should’ve been fine. But, despite the fact that it wasn’t supposed to be serious, there was something in you that couldn’t handle the way that he would still get strung out over his ex. You knew that pretty much everyone had that one person that was more difficult to get over than the rest, you just didn’t think that EZ’s was going to be someone who was still in his life so frequently. You knew that you had no right to be jealous, after all it wasn’t like the two of you were boyfriend and girlfriend, but it was still something that you couldn’t stomach. So you cut the cord. It hurt, and you didn’t really want to do it, but you knew that for the sake of your own sanity you had to.

That was two months ago. And in the span of that two months, you never came to the bar on nights that you weren’t working. You didn’t want to make it awkward for yourself, or for Ezekiel, or for anyone else, for that matter. But things felt like they were getting back to some kind of normalcy. So, when Bishop told you that he was going to have someone else work the bar when a couple other charters came to town, but that you should still come and have a good time, you figured there wasn’t going to be a better opportunity to feel out the situation.

You walked through the doors of the clubhouse to the party already being in full swing. You smiled at the sight of so many people enjoying themselves in one spot. There were a lot of faces that you had become familiar with in your time working the bar there, but there were some new ones too. Carefully maneuvering your way through people to get to the bar, you smiled at the young man that was doling out drinks as fast as he could.

“A beer when you get a chance, Ricky,” you said with a laugh.

He looked over at you, eyebrows raising when he realized it was you, “Shit, Y/N. Not used to seeing you on that side of the bar,” he chuckled, “Or seeing you all prettied up.”

You laughed as you snatched the bottle away from him, “Very funny.”

“Nah, I mean it. You look good.”

You smiled and took a sip of your beer, “Thank you.”

As you were scanning the room, Bishop appeared in front of you. There was a soft smile on his face as he pulled you into a hug, “Glad you came, sweetheart.”

You smiled as your cheek rested against his kutte for a moment, “Thanks for the invite,” you paused, “You sure it’s alright that I’m here?”

There was no hesitation as he nodded, “Of course. This is your bar, too.”

That was the last comment either of you made about it as you strayed to other topics. You had him tell you about some of the people that you didn’t know—the faces that you didn’t quite recognize. He was more than happy to dish out whatever details you wanted to know, enjoying that you wanted to know as much as you could about the people that came in and out of the clubhouse.

When he got flagged down into another conversation, he left you with a gentle kiss on your temple before slipping off into a new cluster of people. You leaned back against the bar, happy to just listen to the music and watch the party continue to unfold into the controlled chaos that it always was.

You were just about to ask Ricky for another beer when a young man appeared on the stool next to yours. You could feel his eyes on you and you looked over at him with a smile. His patch said Oakland and you instantly ran through what you could remember of their roster as you tried to put a name to his face.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked with a smile.

You nodded, turning your body so that you were facing him, “Sure can,” you glanced over at your friend, “Another beer, please, Ricky. Put it on this guy’s tab,” you gestured to the biker sitting next to you with a laugh.

He laughed as he held out his hand to introduce himself, “Manny. Name’s Manny.”

You chuckled as you shook his hand, “Nice to meet you, Manny. I’m Y/N,” you scanned him up and down, “I haven’t met you before, have I?”

He shook his head, “No ma’am. Just transferred from Spokane.”

“Ah,” you nodded, “that’s why I don’t recognize you.”

“You know everyone else down here?”

“Almost,” you laughed.

The two of you sat at the bar and talked. You hadn’t expected to get so wrapped up in conversation with him, but it was a welcome surprise. He seemed sweet, funny. You noticed the way that he was slowly but surely leaning in closer the longer the two of you talked. You pretended that you didn’t notice, soaking up the attention while you could have it. In another day or so he’d be gone and you’d be left to your own devices again. Besides, it was nice to feel wanted.

Manny was halfway through a sentence when he stopped, seeing someone behind you. A grin broke out across his face as he stood up and walked over to whoever it was. You turned to see Ezekiel standing there. He greeted his MC brother with a hug, but his eyes were glued on you the whole time.

“’Sup, Reyes? Was wondering if I was gonna see you around here tonight,” he chuckled, blissfully unaware of the tension.

“I’m never far,” he looked back and forth between the two of you before his eyes settled on Manny, “Mind if I steal Y/N for a minute? Gotta talk to her about something.”

He nodded, stepping back out of the way, “Sure thing,” he turned to you and flashed a smile, “You know where to find me if you wanna put another drink on my tab.”

You laughed and nodded, “Thank you.”

EZ waved for you to follow him and the two of you made your way out of the intensity of the clubhouse and out onto the deck. The air felt a little more breathable. This was the first time the two of you had any one-one-one time in months, and you weren’t sure what to make of it.

“So,” you sipped on your drink as you leaned back against the railing, “how’ve you been?”

EZ nodded, and you could see it in his eyes that there were a million thoughts running through his mind, “I’ve been alright. You?”

You shrugged, “Pretty good. Can’t complain,” you paused, “What’d you wanna talk about?”

The words got caught in his throat. When he’d seen the way you were talking and laughing with Manny, he felt a sliver of what it must’ve been like for you when he would come to you torn up about Emily. He knew that he had no right to be jealous, and for the entire night he was fighting the urge to go up and say something to you, to Manny, but his willpower finally wore out.

You stepped in closer and you gently rested one hand on his arm, “Hey, you good?”

Everything about you in that moment was distracting. He couldn’t look into your eyes without being hit with an onslaught of memories. The warmth radiating from your touch, and the wave of perfume that gently washed over him as you stepped in nearly knocked him off his feet. Every single memory of you that he tried not to think about, that he tried not to replay over and over again, hit him like a freight train.

He shut his eyes and shook his head, “I’m fine.”

You cocked one eyebrow, knowing him too well to believe what he was saying to you, “You sure?”

“I miss you,” he said, not able to look you in the eye as he did.

You couldn’t help but to let out a hollow laugh as you shook your head, “Do you really? Or did you just not like seeing me talk to someone else?”

He pressed his lips into a line, knowing that you could easily see through him. He sighed, “He’s not gon—”

You cut him off, “Don’t,” your tone was kind, but still firm, “EZ, I think it’s probably better for the both of us if you don’t finish that sentence. I don’t say shit to you when I see you with Vicki’s girls all over you, right?”

“That’s not the same as a patch talking to you.”

“So that gives you the right to stick your nose into it?”

He knew it was a losing argument. He really didn’t know where he thought the discussion was going to go. Every logical bone in his body had been telling him to not bother walking up to you in the first place, but he did anyway. And now he was paying for it.

“I wanna be friends with you, Ezekiel,” you told him honestly, “So when you’re ready for that, let me know. But I don’t think you are yet,” you stepped in and gave him a quick hug, “Enjoy the party.”

You walked back inside, and took a deep breath as the door shut behind you. You walked over to the bar and got another beer before locating Manny again, eager to pick up where you had left off. You sauntered over to where he was sitting on the couch, letting out a laugh as he pulled you down onto his lap. You lazily draped one arm around his shoulder as you let yourself get roped into the conversation that they were having.

You had never been the kind of person to go out of your way to try and make someone else feel jealous. That wasn’t what this was about. However, you couldn’t deny the fact that seeing that pang of envy present in EZ’s face as he walked in and saw you draped over someone from a different charter, it felt good. You knew that beautiful mind of his was replaying the nights when the two of you had been in very much the same position, and how he cost it all for himself.

Despite the fact that it was starting to creep into the small hours of the morning, the clubhouse was far from empty. That wasn’t particularly unusual, but you just wanted to be home, in a room that wasn’t weighted with the scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke. However, the warmth emanating from Manny’s hand resting lightly on your thigh wasn’t something you really wanted to give up just yet.

You leaned in a little closer to his ear, “How attached to this party are you?”

He chuckled, looking you in the eye, “What’s your offer?”

“I’ve got beer at my place that won’t make you keep running up your tab,” you trailed your nails lightly along the back of his neck.

“In that case,” he laughed as he tried to play off the fact that you had just sent a chill through his entire body, “I’m not attached to this party at all.”

You laughed as you hopped up off his lap, holding your hand out to pull him off the couch. He let you tug him along towards the door with a smile, trying to toss money onto the surface of the bar to cover his tab before leaving. Ricky let out a whistle and a laugh as you made your way towards the door and you couldn’t help but to shake your head.

The two of you walked down the steps of the clubhouse and Manny looked over at you, a smirk on his face, “You up for a ride?” he paused, “On the bike, I mean.”

You chuckled, nodding as you followed him, “I think so.”

He handed over his helmet with a smile, and you let him adjust it for you as you explained the way to get to your place. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see EZ standing on the deck, eyes glued to the scene unfolding in front of him. You tried not to let your eyes linger on him for too long. Before you knew it, you were hooking your leg over the back of Manny’s bike and wrapping your arms around his waist, settling against him as he pulled out of the lot.

EZ could still hear the rumble of the motorcycle as he took off down the steps to head towards his trailer. Angel had watched the entire scene play out and he went after his brother who he knew was about to do something undoubtedly stupid.

“Yo, Boy Scout, where you going?”

“She can’t just fucking…” his voice trailed off, not knowing how to end the sentence as his feet slowed to a stop.

“You gotta let that shit go, ‘mano,” Angel caught up to him.

EZ heard what his brother was saying, but he was too busy reliving every night that the two of you had peeled out of the clubhouse just like that. The thought of you having those moments with someone else knocked the wind out of him. He thought about how things unraveled, about how you had let him go because he wasn’t strong enough to do it himself. He knew he had no right to feel like he should be chasing after you, but he still wanted to. There was nothing more for either of you to say, but watching you ride off like that with someone else left a knot in his stomach.

“EZ,” Angel piped up again, clapping him on the back, “C’mon. There’s nothing for you out here right now. Let’s just go back inside.”

EZ let his brother drag him back to the clubhouse, back into the midst of the chaos. It felt emptier now, though. He wondered if that feeling would ever subside, if he would ever be able to fix what he’d broken.

[mashiraostail]

could you maybe do a part 2 of the depressive episode ask with fatgum, hawks, n gang orca pease?

ofc anon! I think these get progressivley longer also fldsfdsjl idk why that is, sorry!

Taishiro Toyomitsu/Fatgum You were both busy people, Taishiro was even busier than your average pro now that he’d taken on those two students, he didn’t mind the extra work though. Plus he was used to having you around on top of it all. He understood you worked as well, and he’d even tried going there to surprise you since it had been a few days since the pair of you spent any time together which was entirely unlike you only for your coworkers to say that you’d called out a fair bit of time. Maybe you’d headed home, a family birthday or special occasion beaconed you, but whenever you left you always asked him to watch your place, he’d hardly heard from you beyond a text for the past week or so now. So he decided to head over to yours after calling it early one day, he sent Kirishima and Amajiki packing and told them he had a small emergency to deal with, which wasn’t exactly a lie. He was growing a bit concerned for you your lack of communication with him wasn’t just rare it was totally unheard of, normally you were joined to him at the hip, you adored him and you always made sure he heard it all the time. He didn’t want to be overbearing or show up uninvited but he hated the idea of you being sick or worse with no help around, he understood how badly you wanted to be perfect for him, you didn’t want to add to his workload or be a bother at all, he was just trying to figure out the best way to make you see that you could never do any of that to him, and you’re perfect for him however you want to be. He knocks on the door a few times to no avail before electing to use his key, you’d given it to him a while ago but he still knocked most of the time, he didn’t like barging in on you, despite how he loved to have you do it to him, nothing was better than an unannounced surprise visit from you in his eyes.  “Anyone home?” He shuts the door quietly behind him and looks around. The mess says you should be in, that’s for sure. He’s holding a bag of snacks in his hands, plus some medicines and general stuff in case you were sick with a cold or the flu, and he already had his whole chastising speech set up in his head for you.  But he had to find you first. There wouldn’t have been any place for you in the living room, the couch was littered with groceries that had yet to be put away, the coffee table covered in glasses and the kitchen wasn’t much better, it was full of everything and anything but actual food. The door to the laundry room was just barely holding a tidal wave of unfolded clothes back. The bedroom door was slightly ajar.  “Hey, you-”  He nudges the door open with his shoulder, “‘re you decent? Can I open my eyes ‘fore I bump into something-”  “Taishiro?” He hears the rumpling of blankets, and your voice is wet and tired and warbly and even though you didn’t give him the go-ahead he couldn't help but rush over to you at the sound of it. “Hey, what’s the matter? He drops the bag on the bed to your other side and instinctively cups your face in his hands.  “What are you doing here I-”   “I was just in the area and... it’s been a while since I spent any time with you, sorry barge in like this, you didn’t answer the door, I just wanted to check on you..and it seems like it was a good thing I did..” You’re looking up at him like a deer in headlights, it’s only then that he realizes his potential indiscretion. He moves to pull away from you, to wait for a green light to touch you and be close to you, he didn’t want to overwhelm you, or make you feel guilty or anything like that. You can sense that he’s about to pull back, and a few minutes ago all you wanted was to be alone but now that he was here, the last thing you wanted was for him to not be near you. You take a hold of his wrist.  He let out a long, thankful sigh, “alright then, I’ll stay right here.” He sits on the edge of your bed, “I’m glad you’re here.�� He nudges your hair back with his other hand, “’re you sick?”  You shake your head in his hands, “No I just-” Your voice waivers, “I feel so terrible-”  “Terrible like how?” He looks guilty of something and it just makes you feel worse, “did something happen? Someone giving you a hard time or-”  “No-” You choke it out tears already slipping down your face, “I just..I’m so exhausted and I feel like everyone hates me or forgot about me and I know somewhere in my head that that’s such a stupid thing to even worry about but I can’t stop worrying and-”  “Hey, it’s alright, it’s alright,” he shushes you, “I see now, I get it now.” He pushes your cheeks up under his palms, “I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner. I didn’t come sooner-”  “It’s not your job to take care of me-” You warble, “I’m being a stupid baby I-”  “Stop that. Just because something isn’t my job or responsibility doesn’t mean I still won’t wanna do it. You take care of me all the time.” “This isn't the same I-”  “Come on and give me a hug.” He cuts you off before you can get anything else out, “I really need a hug, can you?” He scoops you up, underneath your arms and pulls you forward, he drops back into your mussed up pillows.  “Tighter,” he complains as your arms coil around him weakly, and you laugh through a cascade of tears.  “Feels good to cry huh?” He’s holding the back of your head with more protective instinct than you’ve ever felt from anyone. His other hand pulls the blanket up around you.  “I couldn’t- I’ve been- all week and I just-” You hiccup, “I had to so bad but I couldn’t, and you-” He shushes you again. “Go on ahead, cry as much as you need to. I won’t say it doesn’t break my heart a little to hear it, but I know you’ll feel better after. And don’t go apologizing for this either, sometimes it’s just what you need. Let it all out. I’ll be here if you get sick from it. Afterward, I can help clean up, get you in a nice hot shower, make you something to eat? Sound good?”  “Will you stay all night?” You were pressed into his chest, his tear-stained shirt muffled your voice but he got the idea.  “Honey, I’ll stay as long as you want me.” 

Keigo Takami/Hawks The no. 2 hero rarely has much time to kill, that being said Keigo liked to make it a point to see you as often as he could, or at least to text you. But over the past few days, you'd hardly replied at all, and when you did they were just simple one or two-word answers. It worried him, gnawed at him, for a myriad of reasons; were you sick? Were you drowning in work? Had you run into some kind of trouble? Were you injured? Had you gotten tired of waiting up for him? Sick of canceled dates and being woken up by him clambering out of bed early in the morning to answer a call, exhausted by all the would-be intimate moments between the pair of you that were interrupted by his work? All of these possibilities were equal parts nerve-wracking and heartbreaking. If you were sick he wanted you to reach out and ask him for help, there wasn’t anything he couldn’t make time for if you were involved, he’d figure it out, he always did... if you were in some kind of trouble or injured did you not feel like you could ask him to come to watch out for you without being a bother to him? Did he make you feel like a burden? Or worst of all had you just grown tired of him? Him and his baggage and his job? The gnawing in his chest become too hard to ignore. He could pawn this patrol off on someone else, it was a slow enough day anyways, maybe Enji would do it. He snorted at the thought. He’d just fly by your window, see if you were in, what you were up to. Maybe you were just swamped at work, he reminded himself, sure he was busy but that didn't mean you couldn’t be too, and two busy partners can make for sparse communication, there was a fair chance all of this was just you being busy too. He counts the windows and flies up, it wasn’t hard to memorize which one leads to your apartment. When he gets up there the blinds are open, he can see right inside.  You woke up feeling okay today, okay enough that you figured maybe you could tackle this goddamn laundry at least, it was making such a mess in the hall and you thought maybe if you got that sorted out you’d feel a little more useful. But somehow you just ended up sitting on the floor in the hall, back against the wall, laundry basket spilled before you in a bigger mess than when you started. You may be an adult with a job and apartment but you were crying about the mess. You were an adult, you can cry about whatever you want, that’s a perk of being an adult. You sink further into the wall somehow.  His vantage point lets him look clean through the living room into the small hallway where you sat. It’s slightly cracked, just enough that a few feathers can wiggle in and push it open enough that he can slide his fingers underneath. He should head to the ground, walk up the stairs and knock, like a normal person. But he can’t help it, he’s panicked, what the hell happened to you? You were just sitting there, laundry basket spilled, sobbing into your hands? Were you hurt? Did someone break-in? He couldn’t waste time on foot.  “Hey-” He strangles it out as he’s contorting himself to duck into your window, “It’s okay, hey- I’m here, I’m here now, babe what happened?” He’s squeezing into your window, his wings folding and tufting up against the windowpane, “do you need my help? Are you hurt? Is someone here did someone-” He falls inside unceremoniously, a ball of red feathers and sherpa by your house plant.  You’d never been so happy to witness his stupid antics, you’d never met someone so smart yet so dumb. It felt good to see him, you hadn’t realized how much you missed him. “Keigo?” You drop the shirt you were crying into, “n-no, I’m not hurt I just dropped the laundry and..-” Coincidentally it was his shirt.  “Is this because of me?” He notices it fall to the ground, he looks incredibly guilty, “did I do something to upset you? To-” he scrambles up into a sitting position, “make you feel like I don’t care about you?” A feather is already righting the tipped over laundry basket, a few more collecting various tee shirts and socks.  “What?” You wipe your face with your hands as he clambers over to you, you sniffle, “no Keigo you didn’t-” You shake your head as he nudges your legs apart and sits between your bent knees, “I’m sorry I’m the problem it’s me-” You look forward to him and his eyebrows furrow.  “What do you mean? No one’s the problem there isn’t a problem what’s the-” He squeezes your arms, “forget it. Where have you been? I’ve been so worried about you..and now I find you crying on the ground and-”  “I’ve been here.” Your voice cracks, “I haven’t gone out once.” You laugh wetly, “it’s embarrassing. I just...I can’t do it. I feel so useless. I do nothing all day but I’m so tired Keigo..I’m even too tired to sleep..”  The mess that would have taken you days to clean on your own was practically rectified now, and Keigo hadn’t even lifted a finger.  “I’m sorry I worried you.” You wither back into the wall and he shakes his head.  “I don’t want sorry. I get it, I understand now.” He takes your face in his hands, “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner-”  “Your job’s more important than taking care of me like a child-”  “That’s not a fair comparison. And it’s not true anyway. I know my work is important but that doesn’t mean other things can’t be important too. I want to be here for you. You would if it were me right?”  You nod meekly at that, “thank you for coming I- I don’t even know what happened one minute it was fine and the next I-”  “It doesn’t matter. It happens to the best of us. I just wish you’d called me. Asked for my help I... I was so worried that you were sick or..worse than that.. you were sick of me.” He laughs a little, “how stupid is that right? Like you’d ever get sick of me.”  “Does that feather have my underwear?” You look at it over his shoulder.  “Sorry. I... thought it would be funny.” It falls to the ground, you snort. “You’re right. That is stupid Keigo.” You murmur, “I’d never get sick of you.” “My job’s important, I know it eats up my time, and we don’t get to be together as much as I want to sometimes...”  “I think I should be the one pleading my case right now Keigo.” You laugh a little, “my apartment is disgusting, I’m crying over dropped laundry and you haven't even seen the state of my kitchen yet. I ignored you for days over nothing, I’ve barely showered I probably smell abysmal and-”  “It wasn’t over nothing and you don’t need to plead your case with me because you’re going through a rough patch, I’m the one that’s been too busy to notice you struggling-” He shakes his head, “all because of my work, I can’t... not do it but I want to be with you, I want to be with you all the time, I’m probably so annoying blowing up your phone and climbing in your window whenever I have a few second... I don’t know how you put up with me, I’d get sick of me in a few days.” He reaches out and tugs the bottom hem of your shirt aimlessly, “I don’t know how you do it. I guess all I do know is that I want you to stay near me.”  “Keigo-” You warble and pull him into your chest, “I'm sorry I scared you-”  “Don’t be sorry just...know that I want you to ask me for help...I know it’s easier said than done but..well I just said it. I just wanna be with you, all the time, like 24/7 I don’t even care what we’re doing. I’ll do all your laundry forever if you just stay near me while I do it. It’s not a bother you aren’t burdening me just ask me for help. I don’t want you to feel like this...let’s just..” He turns into the crook of your neck and sighs, “stay like this for a minute. And then I’ll help you clean up around here, that’s what's upsetting you right? The mess? Lucky for you I’ve got plenty of hands...well feathers. And then we’ll see what else we can get done, together okay babe?”  “Yeah.” You press your cheek into his hair, “thank you for understanding.”  Keigo nods, his finger traces the neckline of your shirt and he speaks again, “Please don’t pull away so much, I missed you, you’re the only person around here who has any fun besides Rumi, and whenever we’re together one of us ends up with a broken bone or worse.”  You snort at that, “okay, noted.”  “And I think you smell great by the way.” 

Kugo Sakamata/Gang Orca It felt weird to be away from Kugo so much. You just hated the idea of him seeing you like this. You were tired and irritable and in a mess all the time, you hadn’t changed your pants in days and the only meal you’d had over the past 3 days was crackers and bread, maybe toast depending on your mood. Not to mention the laundry situation or the chaotic state of your bathroom. You normally hated mess, and even though you didn’t have the energy to clean it ..it still made you terribly anxious.  You were almost out of crackers, you hated that you lived in the exact area Kugo patroled, it was how you’d met in the first place, and normally it was a delight to run into him on your way home from your own job, even just catching a glimpse of him patroling out your window usually really improved your mood but the thought of running into him now made you sick to your stomach. You couldn’t get the energy up to put something nicer on, but you didn’t even have a morsel of food left, everything you had you’d Mcgyvered into something to eat. If you saw him you’d have to explain where you’d been for the past week, why you’d been basically ignoring him, and even when you did answer him it was just to blow him off or send him to voicemail. You wanted to see him, but you were too afraid at this point, you’d dug yourself into a deep hole, there’s no way he wouldn’t be mad at you. Not that he’d ever gotten mad at you before really. But this time would be different. Or at least you’d convinced yourself of that. Maybe keeping your hood up would stop him from recognizing you.  You made it to the store with no incident, you were feeling pretty hopeful, though equally drained, you barely went up and down 3 isles before deciding you were done after finding the pre-made cold brew you’d been craving. It amounted to about 3 bags total, and the cold brew bottle wasn’t exactly small..well you could always order out.  Worried was a gross understatement, Kugo was sick with it. He wanted to barge in, everytime he offered to go to you you said no, you had a conference call, you were working late, your neighbors were fighting again, so on and so forth. That paired with the one to two-word answers he’d been receiving made his stomach hurt in a way he only experienced when he couldn’t tell the outcome of a big mission. He asked if you were okay practically every day and you always said you were fine. Though when he mentioned it to Hakamada the other hero informed him that ‘I’m fine’ was usually 'code’ for something else. If space was what you wanted then he’d let you have some...that being said when he saw what was certainly your receding figure on the street..wearing shorts in this weather?  “Hey-” His voice makes you jump out of your skin. God the universe seriously hates you this week.  “Kugo-” You don’t wanna turn around.  “What are you wearing? It’s freezing out you should be wearing a coat and pants.” He wraps an arm around you, “you’re shaking. What were you thinking huh?” He reaches out and takes your groceries too, “you better be going home.”  “I am..” You murmured, “I just needed to run out fast, I’m not cold, don’t get distracted from work because of me-”  “I’ll bring you home. It’s fine, don’t worry about that there are plenty of people out today.”  “I-”  “Please let me bring you home.” He huddles you into his side, “I’ve been worried..”  “Have you?”  “Of course I have, you’ve made yourself so scarce recently, and now this?”  “’m sorry..” You hug your chest as you turn the corner to your complex.  “Do you want me to come up with you?” He turns to you. Now you were at a crossroads, you’d seen him, you were seeing him, he was touching you, his side was warm and his arm around you was comforting and the idea of being alone was equally as upsetting as the idea of him seeing the state of your apartment or the state of you close up. “You aren’t even wearing layers.” He scoffs as the neckline of your hoodie dips a bit. “Do you want me, yes or no? Either is okay but you need to get inside before you get sick.”  “I do want you to come with me I just-”  “Well explain upstairs then.” He's ushering you inside the moment you finish. “Did you lose your keys?” He’s still squeezing you into his side when you stop at your front door. “I... don’t want you to see it.”  “See what my love? Your apartment? I think we’re a bit past that.” He presses his nose into your hood which is still covering your head. “It’s a mess- I’m a mess Kugo.”  “I doubt it's that bad. Even if it is I won’t mind, so let’s go in instead of standing out here like two fools.”  “Promise you won’t be mad.” You turn the key and he sighs.  “I promise.” The door creaks open and you aren’t sure if it’s your anxious mind playing tricks on you or if it’s 10x worse than what you remember.  “Oh god-” You warble, “I'm so sorry Kugo this is so embarrassing.” The way your voice breaks makes him jump. “Hey-” He sets your groceries down on the sliver of free counter space he can find, “no tears my love, no tears okay?” He puts his hands on your shoulders, “is this where you’ve been? Why you haven’t been talking to me? You’ve been all shut up in here?” He turns to you and you just want to fold in on yourself and disappear. “I wanted to clean, and I wanted to call you but  I just couldn’t get the energy to and it kept piling up and my bathroom is even worse and I didn’t know what to do and then even when I started to miss you I was too embarrassed at the idea of you seeing me like this because I can’t even comb my hair right now let alone take a shower or even change my clothes and I was afraid you’d be angry with me for letting it get so bad and I-” “Stop.” He pulls you forward and you fall against him wistlessly, “relax, you’ll work yourself up to tears like that.” He cups the back of your head. “I won’t ever be mad you for something like this. Why would you be afraid of that?” He takes your face in his hands, “and why would you be embarrassed of me seeing you when you don’t feel well? I’m here to help you.” He nudges your hood back, “call me sooner next time, please, if not for your sake for mine.” A big hand cups the nape of your neck, “I was worried sick about you dear.”  “I’m sorry-” Your voice cracks, “I’m sorry Kugo I just-”  “I understand. I’m sorry too, I should have checked in sooner, I should have made sure you knew you can trust me with this sort of thing.” “It’s my fault not your’s don’t be sorry Kugo I-” You’re blinking back tears and he sighs. “There’s no sense in going back and fourth about it.” His thumb rubs your temple, “I’m just glad I’m here now. I’m sorry you don’t feel well but seeing you after so long is a relief, I really missed you.”  “I missed you too Kugo-” Your voice cracks and you throw your arms around his neck and shoulders.  “Do you need to cry? Don’t hold back for my sake.” A big hand rubs circles between your shoulder blades egging you on, “if crying will help then cry. I’m right here for you. No more worrying okay my dear?”  “Okay-” You wipe your nose on your sleeve over his shoulder, tears falling freely, “thank you for coming Kugo-” Your feet are hardly on the ground anymore, your face nestled into his shoulder, “I’m sorry for getting tears all over your-”  “What did I say about worrying?” He pulls you back and uses his thumb to clean off one cheek, leaning down and brushing his nose against the other you let out a thankful sigh at the gentle touch.  “I just can’t help it Kugo-” You murmur, voice still wet with tears, “i just love you so much and I don’t-”  “Oh, you’re such a sweet little thing.” He pulls you up a bit by your cheeks, “it just breaks my heart to see you like this. I may never let you out of my sight again.”  “I’m okay with that.” You duck into his neck with a hiccup and he laughs.  “I love you too, why don’t you take a warm shower, I’ll help you however I can, then I think we should call it a night, we can worry about the mess tomorrow.” “You don’t mind?” You squeeze him around his shoulders and he hums.  “I don’t mind at all.” He promises, “I’ll do whatever I can to help you feel better.”

[nathanknowsitall]

Just That Good

Summary: Your best friend Tom Holland doesn’t know about your job as an online sex worker, but when you let it slip, he has a lot of questions.

Notes: This one is dedicated to all my fellow sex workers, online or irl! I love you all and I hope you’re staying safe! <3

“How’s work?”, Tom said casually, as he checked on the noodles he was boiling for lunch while you mindlessly were sitting at the table, scrolling through Twitter. 

“Fine, I just got a lot of personal requests today”, you mindlessly said. 

“For what?”, Tom said, confused, making realize what you just said. “Don’t you work for that magazine still?”, he asked curiously.

“Umm...”, you said trying to stall while you figured out how you were going to get out of this one. You had successfully kept your job as an online sex worker a secret for the past year with only a handful of slip ups in front of Tom. 

You knew that, logically, this was stupid. Tom was your best friend and you knew that he wouldn’t treat you any differently just because you didn’t have the most traditional job. He’d probably only get a little protective, but that’s just something Tom does anyways.

“Are you there, Y/N?”, Tom asked, concerned. 

“Oh...yeah”, you said as you figured out how you were going to get out of this. “I’m working on a self-help article”, you said, but Tom wasn’t buying it. 

While you tried to go back to looking on your phone, Tom was just staring at your back, trying to figure out why you were lying to him about your job. 

As he brought two plates of pasta with vegetables over, you could feel his stare on you. It made your heart speed up and your face go cold. 

You sat across from each other and it was rather awkward as you both started eating. There wasn’t the easy flowing conversation that you were both used to. Only sneaky glances at each other from across the table. You were already sick of it when Tom then decided to clear his throat.

“Do you need something?”, you asked as you stared him down.

“It’s just that I don’t believe that you work at a magazine”, he says, accusatory.

“Why don’t you?”, you said as you sat back, curious about his reasoning.

“Well, you never really seem to have a set time for work. For being an office job, I would think that a regularly scheduled shift would make sense. Plus, you seem to be able to take off a lot of time, for being an intern.”

“Uh huh.” You knew that you hadn’t covered your tracks well, but this was embarrassing. 

“Then, you also never seem to bring work home. You never complain about the work you do, which you are notorious for”, you rolled your eyes as he continued. 

“Finally, you never have any details about your job. Not a coworker’s name, no work events, no meetings, nothing at all. What magazine do you even work for?”, Tom said with suspicion. 

You were at a loss for words. He really had caught you. You bit your lip as you tried to wrack your brain for any magazine, any magazine at all, but came up empty. 

Tom felt bad about what he had said and took on a soft tone as he concluded, “I don’t know why you are lying to me about your job, but I just want to say that, whatever is going on, you can tell me. Even if you wanted to quit your job, I’d help pay for whatever you need. You can come live with me. If it’s too hard going to college and working, I completely understand. Just please tell me something.”

Right then, you knew you had no reason to worry about what you said next. 

“I’m a sex worker.” Tom’s eyes widened slightly as he looked you in the eyes, as if he was checking to see if you were serious or not, then his brain caught up with him. 

“What does that mean?”, he said very confused, as his head tilted slightly to the side. 

You burst out laughing because, for how scared you were, you were relieved to hear him say such a normal, Tom thing in response to what that had been in the back of your mind for months. 

“Well, sex workers are people who do any sexual activity in exchange for money, like selling nudes or doing porn or having sex with clients.”

“What do you do then?”, Tom said in such a boyish, curious tone that it took you by surprise. You had expected him to be nervous or angry or anything but calm and curious like he was now.

“I sell nudes and videos on Twitter and on a site called OnlyFans.” He nodded as he seemed to mull it over.

“I’ve heard of OnlyFans before...”, he confessed and you got a curious look in your eye, which he responded by following up with an awkward explanation. 

“I’ve never been on it, but I just thought it was for like...established people? In your industry? If you know what I mean? Are you like? Established? Famous?”, he said rapidly. 

You laughed a little at how Tom was so respectful but so nervous about talking about it. 

“No, I’m not ‘famous’, Mr. Movie Star”, you said as you rolled your eyes while Tom got embarrassed at the nickname. 

You continued, “I just started a year ago, but I’m doing pretty okay for myself. I can pay the bills, so no need for me to move in with you or anything drastic like that”, you said as you looked at Tom whose blush hadn’t gone away. “I’m still looking for another more ‘traditional’ job, but this has been working out okay for me so far, so don’t worry, okay?”, you said as you looked into Tom’s eyes, making eye contact with him for the first time since you told him. 

He looked less tense than before and more embarrassed than anything. It was obvious that he was going to ask more questions, but he still nodded all the same. 

“What are some things you do?”, he said curiously. 

“Well, I have to film and edit and post stuff mostly. Sometimes I have personal requests that I have to fill. I have to plan out different scenes and buy props for them and-”, you explained clinically. 

You were trying your best to be serious, but you felt yourself become embarrassed. Tom was your best friend, but also someone that you wanted to someday be more with. You had never really talked about sex like this with him. 

“What do you mean ‘buy props’?”, Tom said. When you made eye contact with him, you knew he was teasing, but you still answered him. 

“Like lingerie...”. Tom’s cheeks heated up again. “And toys...”. You leaned forward. “And whips...anything you can think of really”, you said as you stood up from your chair and made your way into Tom’s space. 

You don’t really know what came over you, but you straddled him and put your hands on his chest, just like you would if you were trying to seduce someone. 

“God...you must be good at it...”, Tom said under his breath. You grinned from ear to ear as you laid your head on top of his shoulder. 

“Do you like it?”, Tom said softly, with sincerity.

“I really do. I know that it seems really weird, but I like the process.”

“Like the...umm...you know? Mast-”, Tom tried. You pushed your head up to look at him as you answered.

“Yeah, yeah. I do...umm...play with myself on camera?”, you tried. Tom nodded stiffly, but his dilated pupils told a different story. 

“Are you getting horny?”, you asked Tom. You instantly felt your face heat up as you asked it, but you couldn’t help but ask. This was the closest you had ever been to making a move on Tom.

“Umm...yeah? Do you want me to stop?”, Tom asked awkwardly as he froze. 

As you looked into his brown eyes, you decided to make a move.

“Can I kiss-?”.

“Yes, darling”, he said before your lips met. It was pure neediness and passion that overwhelmed you as you kissed him. His lips were so soft and you melted.

After a few minutes, you both parted, panting as you recovered from the kiss.

“Did you mean that or are you just that good?”, Tom joked.

You rolled your eyes. “It may be good at faking, but I can’t fake how long I’ve been waiting for that. Also, I can’t fake how wet I am”, you teased as you rubbed yourself on Tom’s erection.

“Oh...you shouldn’t say that to me”, Tom teased, “I’ve dreamed about having you like this for so long...”.

“Then take me”, you demanded. Tom immediately stood up while holding you and took you to the bedroom while you both were in awe that this was happening.

[sunlightdances]

Safe Place to Land (Modern!Bucky x Reader)

Author: Katie @sunlightdances​ Pairing: Modern!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Rating: PG-13 for swearing. No trigger warnings except some alcohol use and drunkenness, and if awkwardness makes you feel weird, which-- SAME. Slow burn. Two idiots. Words: 8K+ aka HOW DID THIS GET SO LONG Summary: Modern!AU. You and Bucky are both standing up for Steve and Peggy’s wedding. Checking in at the hotel for the weekend, you’re horrified to realize there’s been a problem. A big problem. Prompt Filled: “Only one bed” Author’s Note: This is for @fanfictionaries​’ Classic Trope Challenge! Congrats on 300 followers, and thanks for hosting! This was so fun to write. Special thanks to @writeyourmindaway​ for the divider at the beginning and the flower divider throughout the post! Disclaimer: I don’t own Bucky Barnes or Marvel. I also don’t own the song “Dance with Me” by Kelsea Ballerini, which is where the title comes from. The plot is mine! Please don’t repost my work on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my permission. If you like what you read, please reblog to help share my work!

You’re late.

It’s truly a scene from a movie - you dashing through the airport, your rolling suitcase clicking behind you as it hits every line in the tile. People are staring, and you’re embarrassed, but you don’t have time to be.

Peggy will kill you if you miss this flight.

You’ll kill you if you miss this flight. Not for the first time, you curse Steve Rogers and his romantic streak for having a destination wedding. Especially because it’s going to be small. An exclusive wedding that could have just as easily been done in New York… you stop yourself.

You’re happy to be going to London. You’ve never been before, and you’re even happier to be going to celebrate the wedding of two of your closest friends.

It’s been over a decade since the first time you met Steve Rogers, alone and out of place in New York City, and at first you didn’t bother him - he was clearly going through something, and through your nosy neighbor, you knew he was recently back from a tour in Afghanistan. You were unable to stay away for long though, especially when you could hear the nightmares through the apartment walls, and could hear the grief he was struggling to control.

A casserole outside his door and a late night coffee break later, the two of you were fast friends. He trusted you with his story, and the look on his face when you introduced him to your coworker Peggy sealed your friendship for good.

Finally arriving at the gate, you nearly knock over a very tired, very irritated looking Bucky Barnes, and roll your eyes to the heavens, because of course you’re on the same flight. Why wouldn’t you be? You suspect foul play by your conniving best friend, but you don’t have time to complain about it.

Bucky’s already glaring at you. “You’re late--”

“I know. How did you even know I was going to be on this flight?”

“Steve mentioned it. Said to make sure you didn’t get left behind.”

You roll your eyes, collapsing into a chair near the gate as the boarding process begins, out of breath from your sprint through the airport. “He worries too much.”

“You are late, though.”

You glare right back at him, but can’t help but give him what you hope is a subtle once over - right from the top of his baseball-cap covered head to his Nike-covered feet. It’s really not fair that he still manages to look like a runway model at four in the morning.

Finally you’re called for boarding, and you push past Bucky to get on the plane, where you have plans to promptly fall asleep and hopefully be out for the next several hours.

“Me again,” you hear his deep voice before you open your eyes, and you’re treated to the truly amazing sight of Bucky Barnes’ abs when his shirt rides up as he puts his bag in the overhead bin.

“Terrific,” you mutter, and he snorts.

“Go to sleep.” The heat practically radiates off him as he sits down next to you, him in the aisle seat and you in the dreaded middle seat.

You really are tired - there was a reason you were running late. You have a habit of working too late and not getting enough sleep, another reason you were looking forward to this wedding. Ten full days in England. No work, just rest. And a wedding. But besides that--! No obligations. You can practically feel the stress melting off you.

Almost as soon as the plane takes off and you start to doze, the man on the other side of you starts talking. At first you think he’s talking to Bucky across you, but it becomes clear he wants to get to know you better when he starts asking about your job, and finally, if you’re single.

You crack open an eye in disbelief, and open your mouth to respond before Bucky leans over and says quietly, but firmly, “No, she’s not. Sorry, dude.”

Bucky’s forearm is pressing into yours, and you scowl at him before the other guy replies.

“Oh, sorry. Should have guessed.”

“Don’t worry, it surprises a lot of people,” you tell him. Including me. You look back at Bucky with a what the hell look on your face, and he shrugs.

Shifting, he lifts the armrest between you and leans in, whispering. “Unless you wanted him to hit on you for the rest of this flight?”

You groan internally, because there’s nothing you hate more than when Bucky has a point.

It’s not like you hate Bucky. He just-- he knows how to push your buttons. Being Steve’s best friend in the entire world, it was a packaged deal. Bucky came home a year after Steve. He was injured, and angry, and wanted nothing to do with the same type of optimism you tried to supply Steve with.

You were okay with that. Not everyone is wired the same, and you had no business butting into Bucky’s life just because you were able to help Steve adjust to life after the Army.

He warmed up eventually, after he and Steve both started going to VA meetings and were slowly working through things, though you knew there was a chance that the Bucky Barnes you were going to get to know would be nothing like the Bucky that Steve told you stories about.

Still, it has always seemed like there’s something else there. Something under the surface that makes Bucky wary of you.

You’re civil and have come to accept the facts: you and Bucky will never be friends.

That’s why you’re so suspicious of his behavior on this flight. You figured he’d be rather amused by you getting hit on at 20,000 feet.

Right before you fall asleep, you put that thought safely into the box labeled Reasons You Will Never Understand Bucky and leave it at that. 

You wake up to turbulence, and Bucky’s elbow jamming into your ribs.

“Sorry,” he mutters, and when he steadies you, you realize you were leaning into him while asleep, and feel your face turn hot.

You don’t say anything - too worried you’re going to put your foot in your mouth. “What time is it?” You ask instead, and he blinks at you.

“No idea. I was asleep.”

“Oh.”

The silence that settles between you is a little awkward, but you try your best to get over it. It’s dark on the plane. Your left leg is asleep and your neck is so tense you wonder how you managed to sleep at all. Probably because you had the world’s most attractive body pillow, you think.

You pull your tablet out of the seat-back in front of you and turn the brightness way down. Opening a book you’ve been reading, you check the time. Seeing you still have a few hours before you land, you try to get comfortable before you start reading.

You can feel Bucky’s eyes on you off and on for the next few minutes and you try to ignore the feeling it gives you - the hair on the back of your neck standing on end, and when you catch him before he can look away, you feel the jolt through your entire body.

That’s new.

Finally, the announcement comes that you’re landing in fifteen minutes, and everyone around you starts to gather their things and get restless. You feel the excitement building in you like a live thing, and roll your eyes when you see Bucky smirking at you.

“Leave me alone; I’ve never been to England before.”

His smile falters, just the tiniest bit. “It’s nice. You’ll like it.”

It’s a weird comment, but you don’t say anything else. You have a vague memory of Steve telling you Bucky was airlifted to Germany and then to London before coming home after his accident, and you don’t want to say the wrong thing. Contrary to what he thinks, you actually don’t want to argue with him all the time, but especially not on this trip.

Heathrow is a madhouse. It’s even busier than when you left New York, and you’re a little overwhelmed, plus jet lagged. A great combo.

You and Bucky get your bags from baggage claim and then he turns to you, looking a little worse for wear. “I’m assuming we’re at the same hotel.”

“Hopefully not the same hotel Steve and Peg are in.”

Bucky looks like he’s trying not to laugh, but still remains stoic.

“Oh come on,” you say as the two of you head to try to find a cab. “You know if we’re in the same hotel they’ll be calling all hours of the day to get us to do last minute stuff for them. I agreed to be a bridesmaid, not the wedding planner.”

Like the sun finally breaking through, Bucky actually smiles at that, and not for the first time in your sort-of-friendship, you’re struck by it, by how it changes his entire face and makes him look like a completely different person.

“Steve’s been driving me a little crazy, I have to admit.”

After verifying you are both staying in the same hotel where the majority of the wedding guests are, you fall silent as you take in the scenery zooming past in the cab.

Soon you’re approaching the most beautiful hotel you’ve ever seen, and you stare, open-mouthed, because this cannot be the place you booked. You were given the name of a hotel that Peggy said was nice and reasonably priced that most of the other guests were using, and you expected it to be-- well, not like the place she and Steve were staying.

Still: this is-- too much. Opulent doesn’t even cover it.

“Wow,” Bucky says next to you, uncharacteristically awed by the sight.

In the lobby, you’re even more convinced this is all a scam. Which is why when the concierge tells you there’s a problem, you’re almost not surprised.

“I’m so sorry - we have names for both of you on the reservation list, but it seems like they’ve put you both in the same room.”

A pin could be heard dropping for how quiet you and Bucky get.

He’s the first to speak. “I’m sorry?”

“There must have been a mistake… we’re full the next two weeks with several wedding parties and whoever booked it must have made a mistake.” She’s perfectly apologetic, in that British way, but you’re having trouble getting past the idea that you’re going to have to live with Bucky Barnes for 10 days.

“Can I just get another room?” You blurt.

“I’m sorry - we’re booked. There aren’t any other rooms.”

Bucky turns to you. “Look, it’s fine. Where else are you going to go?”

You feel something like panic welling up inside you. You and Bucky, sharing a room for ten days. How are you going to survive what’s sure to be the most awkward thing you’ve ever had to do in your life?

Better yet: how are you going to live with the teasing from Steven Grant Rogers when he finds out you have to be roommates with his best friend?

You sigh.

“The same room it is.” 

This can’t be real, you think. It’s too cliche.

“Um,” you say out loud, elegantly, “There’s only one bed.”

“Appears that way.”

“Well? What are we going to do?”

Bucky looks at you, blank. “We’re grown. I feel like this isn’t that big of a deal.”

You feel semi-hysterical laughter bubbling inside you, because this is very much a big deal. Especially when you’re just sort of admitting to yourself that your tiny crush on Bucky hasn’t waned over the years. You’ve always found him attractive and had no problem acknowledging that, but this? This is just too rom-com, even for you.

“It’s ten days. You don’t have a problem sharing a room with me for ten days?”

He shrugs. “What else am I going to do? Can’t bunk up with Steve. We’ll be busy with wedding stuff for the next two days anyway, and then afterwards… I don’t know. I figured you’d be sightseeing?”

You stare at him. “Okay, but… what are you going to be doing?”

He looks down. “Hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. You assume I’m here as long as you are,” he points out.

He’s right - you have no idea how long Bucky booked this trip for. Without wanting to pry, you’re again reminded that he has a small history here, and probably one that he doesn’t want to re-live.

You’re interrupted by Bucky’s phone ringing, and you busy yourself unpacking while he answers it.

“Hey, Steve.” He says, his voice entirely different when he talks to his best friend. “Yeah, just got to the hotel.” A few beats. “I was probably just going to crash for the night…”

You get a text from Peggy almost at the same time, asking if you want to meet her and Steve for dinner, and meet Bucky’s eyes. You must look as tired as he feels, because he makes another excuse.

“If Katie’s not going to be there, I don’t want to be third wheel with you two lovebirds.” Another beat. “Yeah, let’s do breakfast. I’ll call you in the morning.”

You tap out a response to Peggy about jet lag and already being in bed (and it’s not like you don’t want to see your best friend, you’re just-- there’s too many things happening right now for you to even think about going out for a late dinner), and toss your phone towards the bed.

Yet another reminder of the fact that you’re going to be sharing with Bucky Barnes as soon as you’re both exhausted enough to sleep.

When he hangs up, you look at him curiously. “You didn’t mention anything about our living arrangements.”

He sighs. “Look, Steve’s stressed out enough. He doesn’t need to worry about this mixup too. Besides, it’s fine. It’s just sleeping.”

You hate yourself for the heat you feel at the thought of sharing a bed with him, even though it’s a fleeting feeling that you force away. “Yeah. Just sleeping.”

Bucky says he wants a shower and you offer to order room service. It’s almost 10pm, but you both know you won’t be able to sleep on an empty stomach.

When Bucky comes out of the bathroom, you feel like a teenager. Even he looks a little flushed, but you think it’s from embarrassment. “I-- forgot a change of clothes. Sorry.” He looks so chagrined, you can’t help but snicker.

“Buck, you’re offending my delicate sensibilities.”

His eyes go a little wide and you realize you’ve never called him by that familial version of his nickname before, but it just -- you’ve known the guy almost as long as you’ve known Steve. It just slipped out.

He recovers quickly, winking at you. “Honey, we all know there’s nothing delicate about you.”

You both freeze, both taken aback by the sultry lilt to his voice as he teases you, and again, you’re saved by an interruption - this time a knock on the door saying room service has arrived.

Bucky heads back to the bathroom to change, and you gulp in a few deep breaths before answering the door to get the food.

A whole night of this. You have no idea how you’re going to survive. 

Your alarm goes off way too early. In reality, it’s eight in the morning, but you still feel like you’ve been hit over the head with something heavy after a day of traveling.

Moreover, you feel like something heavy is actually on you, and you peek open a bleary eye to see Bucky over your shoulder, his arm slung across your waist like it was always meant to be there.

“Shit,” you whisper, hoping you don’t wake him, but also wanting to get out of this situation as soon as possible. You scramble for your phone, the groan leaving him as he wakes up a noise you try to convince yourself you don’t want to hear again.

“What time is it,” he asks, his voice rough with sleep. You shiver.

“Eight,” you reply, finally reaching your phone and sliding a thumb across the screen to turn the alarm off.

He realizes his position and rolls away from you casually, so you mentally decide to pretend you weren’t cuddled up to him for most of the night.

You already have a text from Peggy asking if you want to join her, Steve, and Bucky for breakfast, so you have no choice but to get up and shower, trying to forget the warm feeling of being held by Bucky Barnes.

In an hour, you’re both waiting on a busy street for the almost-newlyweds, and you see them before they see you, Steve’s broad form and Peggy’s impeccable posture unmistakable. You smile unconsciously - they look so happy. You feel a pang though, because you don’t think you’ve ever been with someone who made you feel so carefree.

“Short stuff!” Steve calls, and you roll your eyes, muttering under your breath about how you’re not that short while Bucky snickers next to you, but before you can berate Steve, he’s gathering you into a hug, nearly lifting you off the ground.

Over Steve’s shoulders you see Bucky give Peggy a kiss on the cheek and a shy smile as they hug, exchanging quiet words.

You and Peggy might have known each other first, but she and Bucky bonded right away, making you wonder (not for the first time) why it seemed to be only you that Bucky had trouble getting to know. You brush off the thought - this week was about your friends and their wedding, and you were going to stop worrying about anything that wasn’t making sure this wedding was perfect.

“Missed you,” Steve whispered, “Did you get in okay? Bucky said you were late.”

You roll your eyes again. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

He smiles. “Go say hi to Peg. She’s excited you’re here.” He gives your shoulders a squeeze before passing you off to Peggy, who hugs you so tight you can barely breathe.

“You look so--” you sigh, unable to find the words, “Happy. You look so happy, it’s like you’re already married.”

She grins. “I’ve been dreaming about this day for years. I’m excited.”

The four of you sit down to eat and you have the best breakfast you’ve ever eaten. Around a mouthful, you tell the table, “I never want to eat anything but these potatoes for the rest of my life.”

The rest of the meal is spent talking about the wedding and any last minute items that need to be done before the rehearsal dinner later that night. It sounds like everything is going as planned, which doesn’t surprise you when it comes to Peggy Carter.

“And so far everyone has arrived, we think. Have you run into anyone at the hotel?” Steve asks, and you and Bucky both freeze, before he speaks.

“Not… no. Haven’t seen anyone else yet.”

Steve looks between the two of you, eyes narrowed. “What? What happened?” He puts down his fork. “You can’t be fighting already, it’s only been--”

“They gave us one room.” You blurt. “There was a mixup and we have to share a room.”

Bucky steps on your foot hard, because you’ve forgotten his warning about not telling Steve and keeping the groom from stressing out the day before his wedding.

“It’s fine,” Bucky says, waving a hand. “It’s just sleeping.”

You want to scream. Was it just sleeping when we cuddled all night? There wasn’t even alcohol involved!

“Right.” You say brightly, “It’s fine. No big deal.”

Steve is frowning. “I can call--”

“No!” You and Bucky both exclaim.

“Please don’t worry about this. It’s a non-issue,” You say, looking to Peggy for reassurance.

“They’re adults, Steve.”

“Adults who always seem to want to rip each other’s heads off,” he mutters, reaching for his coffee. Over the rim, he meets your eyes, and you shake your head minutely. Don’t you dare.

Breakfast is a little subdued after that, but soon it’s time for Steve and Peggy to go to the venue to make any last minute changes, leaving you and Bucky to your own devices for a few hours before you have to get ready for the rehearsal dinner.

Before parting ways, your phone buzzes.

Steve Rogers: You sure you’re going to survive this?

You: I will murder you.

Across the sidewalk, Steve snorts.

Steve Rogers: I’m just saying. Your crush is kind of obvious, you know?

You: Lucky for you, Bucky literally pays no attention to me. It’ll be fine.

Steve Rogers: That’s what you think.

You meet Steve’s eyes, trying to figure out what he means, but he just shrugs and puts his phone back in his pocket.

The four of you say your goodbyes, and then you and Bucky are left standing on the street awkwardly.

“I was going to go to a museum--”

“I might check to see if Sam is here yet--”

You both speak at the same time.

Bucky clears his throat. “Right. Well, I’ll go check on Sam and you go to your museum or whatever. You have a room key?”

You nod. “Yep. All set.”

“I guess… have fun. Don’t get lost.”

You scowl. “Great, thank you for your concern.”

You’re halfway down the street when you hear him call, “Don’t be late!”

You flip him off over your shoulder and pretend you don’t hear him laughing as you keep heading down the street in the complete opposite direction. 

You get back to the hotel in the early afternoon so you can shower and start getting ready for the rehearsal dinner. Outside your shared room, you hear voices, so you pause. You can tell one is Bucky, and soon you recognize the other voice is Sam.

“Really, dude. You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” Bucky’s voice is gruff. “Do I want to be in London? Not particularly. Can I separate my issues from celebrating this wedding? Yes.”

A sigh, but you can’t tell who it comes from.

“It’s okay to have mixed feelings about London.” Sam says. “The last time--”

“I know what happened the last time I was here.” Bucky interrupts, voice firm and icy. “Sorry. I just-- I don’t want to talk about it.”

A pause. “Okay, then let’s talk about your other issue.” Sam says, and even through the door, you can tell he’s got a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on! You’re sharing a room with--”

Not wanting to overhear something else you shouldn’t, you hurriedly put your key in the slot and push the door open.

The two men are silent, staring at you, and you can feel the guilty look all over your face, so you try your best to school your expression into nonchalance.

“Long time no see,” Sam says, standing up to give you a hug.

“Hi, Sam.”

You make some small talk and try not to notice how quiet Bucky is being. He can’t really hate this situation that much… right? Or is it just this place in general? You’re too afraid to ask.

After another hour or so, Sam leaves the two of you to get ready himself, and you race to the bathroom to shower and start doing your makeup.

You’re very conscious of the fact that Bucky is getting changed in the room just beside you, so you take your time getting ready, making sure you’ve done every last thing you can think of before you emerge.

You’re not prepared for the sight of him, more dressed up than you’ve ever seen him. A dark blue button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbow, showcasing part of a tattoo that snakes down from his left bicep. His newly-shorn hair is artfully styled, the watch on his right wrist glinting in the late day sun streaming into the room.

God, how are you going to get through tomorrow? Seeing him as one of the groomsmen? You’re going to die.

“You look nice,” you manage, not wanting to stare at him any longer.

He looks like he doesn’t know what to say. You’re not sure if it’s the compliment he’s having trouble with, or what. “Thanks,” he says eventually. “You do too.”

The rehearsal dinner is like a fairytale, just like you knew it would be. The food is great, the company is even better, and even Bucky looks like he’s having a good time. There’s lots of toasting the bride and groom to be, and that involves a lot of drinks. A lot.

By the time you’re walking back to the hotel with Bucky, you’re a little unsteady on your feet, but he’s not doing much better, your hips bumping every few feet as you walk.

“You’re a lightweight,” he laughs, and you attempt to glare at him, but you think it comes off more like you’re leering at him. He reaches for your elbow gently and tugs you into the elevator with him, and it’s a challenge to stop thinking all the inappropriate thoughts that start clouding your mind.

Safely in your room, you sit on the edge of the bed and watch as Bucky starts to get ready for bed. You need to get your makeup off and into your pajamas, but you can’t bring yourself to move.

“You’re staring.”

You grin, “Just enjoying the show.” Instantly horrified, you clap a hand over your mouth. “I didn’t say that. You didn’t hear it.”

Bucky’s a little pink around the ears, but he looks smug. “So you think I’m hot?”

You groan. “Shut up. You know you’re hot.”

He looks surprised for a half second, and you fall backwards onto the bed.

“Stop it, stop asking me stuff. I can’t be trusted.” Apparently you can’t take your own advice, because you start thinking out loud, “It’s too bad you hate me. We’d be like, the hottest couple of all time.”

It’s silent, and when you finally look up, he’s staring at you, a frown on his face. “Is that what you think?”

“I know we’d be the hottest couple of all time--”

“No,” he interrupts, exasperated. “You think I hate you?”

“I think--” you suddenly clamp your mouth shut. “I think I need to go to the bathroom.” Bolting past him, you make it there in time, and barely register him coming in a few seconds later, holding your hair back.

God. How embarrassing. Love this journey for you, your brain helpfully supplies.

The last thing you remember before falling asleep is Bucky helping you out of your dress, and a cool hand on your forehead. Then it all goes black. 

Your alarm goes off early again the next day. Wedding day. You’re due at the venue with the rest of the bridal party at nine to start hair and makeup.

Your mouth feels like it’s made of cotton, and you curse everyone involved in the dinner for doing so many toasts.

“God,” you groan, and when you open your eyes, you see Bucky on the chair in the living area, a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. “What--”

“Here,” he says, tossing you your phone, alarm still going off.

There’s a text from Steve asking if you’re alive, and another from Peggy’s bridesmaid group chat with a million love-themed emojis.

“Thanks,” you grumble, bits and pieces of the night before coming back to you. Startled, you look up, “Bucky, I am so sorry--”

“Don’t worry about it,” he waves a dismissive hand at you.

“I didn’t mean to drink so much. I’m such an annoying drunk. I--”

“Really,” he interrupts your apology, “It’s okay. You weren’t that bad.”

He’s quiet, which isn’t that different, but he looks… more intense than usual. Contemplative. It makes you nervous. Especially because the night before is still coming to you in pieces.

“Have you been up long?” You ask.

His eyes shutter. “A bit. Had trouble sleeping.”

An awkward silence settles. “What time do you have to--”

“You probably need to get going--”

You both speak at the same time, and strangely, your throat feels tight as he won’t meet your eyes. How badly had you screwed things up the night before?

“Right. I do have to get going. Just going to--” you gesture to the bathroom, and he nods. You make your escape into the shower and spend a little longer than necessary in there, trying like hell to figure out what you could have said to him.

It’s hours later before you see Bucky again. You and the rest of the bridal party are helping Peggy with finishing touches, and the photographer is taking action shots, the entire room a mix of blush pink and gauzy white.

Peggy is a vision - her hair curled and pinned in an old-fashioned style befitting a princess, and her lips painted her signature cherry red.

“Steve’s going to die,” you say, grinning at her, and she winks.

“Almost ready, girls?” She asks everyone else, and there’s a cheer before everyone begins to head out into the hall, gathering with the groomsmen to begin the walk down the aisle.

You’re blindsided by the sight of Bucky in his tux. You take a moment to be thankful you’re walking with Sam, not with Bucky, because surely he’d be able to hear the way your heart is pounding just looking at him.

He looks similarly awed, and your ego takes a moment to soak it up before you can feel embarrassed at the attention.

“You’re… you look great.” He says quietly.

“Thank you. You too.”

The smile he gives you is so soft, you can barely stand it.

“Okay Barnes, hands off my date.” Sam interrupts, linking your arm through his.

Bucky rolls his eyes. Before he can say anything else, the procession is starting, and you’re swept up in the romance of this moment finally happening.

Steve cries.

You do a little, too.

You catch Bucky looking at you with those intense eyes during the ceremony twice, and you’re suddenly more nervous than you’ve ever been, because you still have eight days left of your trip. Possibly eight more days rooming with Bucky if he doesn’t leave before you.

If the tension doesn’t kill you, sleeping in the same bed with him again will, for sure.

The reception space is even more beautiful than the ceremony, and even as you sit there, chin in your palm watching Steve and Peggy dance, you think you’ve never felt more romantic in your entire life.

You dance with Sam, and then Steve finds you, his eyes already a little glazed over.

“Come on, you can’t sit there all night.”

You huff as he finds your hand and tugs you out of your seat. “I haven’t been sitting here all night.”

“You’re not going to deny your best friend a dance. That’s that.”

You smile, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

It’s quiet for a few moments as the two of you sway slowly, and when you look up at Steve, he’s only got eyes for Peggy, who’s dancing with Sam on the other side of the room.

“I’m happy for you, Rogers.”

He grins down at you, “When are you going to start trying to make yourself happy?”

You groan. “Steve, don’t.”

“I’m serious! Look… I know Bucky is… he seems serious sometimes, and it can be hard for him to open up, but I’ve seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one notices.”

The thought of it sends butterflies straight to the pit of your stomach, but there’s just no way that could be true. No matter how much of a romantic Steve Rogers is and how much he would love for his best friends to get together, it’s just not going to happen.

“Incoming,” Steve whispers, and you turn over your shoulder to see Bucky there, looking a little sheepish.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

Steve steps away from you, and your eyes widen at him, panicking. “No problem,” he says to Bucky, “I’ve got a bride to get back to.”

Bucky takes a step closer. “Dance?”

As if on cue, the DJ plays something soft and slow, and you’re left powerless to resist Bucky and the way he’s looking at you - a little guarded, but still open and vulnerable. You feel like you have no choice but to take his hand, a shock working its way up your arm at the contact.

May my hands be the hands you hold onto When you let go of everything else May my arms be the arms that you fall into When the night gets too heavy to hold by yourself

You feel so self conscious as you dance with Bucky, his touch gentler than you ever allowed yourself to imagine it might be. He holds you close, your clasped hands resting over his heart, and you force yourself to enjoy this quiet moment with him.

If you're looking for a safe place to land I will guide you home And if the levy of your life breaks all your plans You'll never be alone

You think about the first time you met him - he was so different then. The same stoic Bucky Barnes you know now, but less quick to crack a joke or a smile. He stuck close to Steve and Sam, but it was clear to you that there was so much more to him than his outward appearance.

There’s the loyalty he shows to his friends. He’s smart - probably the smartest person you know, and so driven. He’s fiercely protective and is observant to a fault, the result of Army training he’ll probably never get rid of.

And -- you hate to admit it, but there was a time when you thought Steve was right. You’d catch Bucky staring out of the corner of your eye and think maybe, maybe there’s something there. And then like a switch flipped, he was quicker to argue with you, every little thing turning into a reason for the two of you to fight.

Now though, the gentle way he’s holding you and the scent of his cologne flooding your senses… you can almost trick yourself into thinking your feelings are reciprocated. That Bucky was just as nervous around you as you are around him.

The song comes to an end, and so does the moment.

If you dance with me Feel my heartbeat through your body to your feet If you dance with me Hold me in the dark now, until both your eyes can see And if it's you and me against the world If I'm your man, you're my girl We'll win you'll see, if you dance with me

Steve and Peggy are leaving in the morning for Paris for a few days, and then to Spain. You feel a pang of jealousy watching them leave the reception, hands and eyes locked together as if nothing could tear them apart.

For a moment, you so desperately want that kind of affection with someone else. You take a deep breath and force yourself to get it together.

“Share a cab back?” A deep voice behind you asks, and you’re surprised to see Bucky. He made himself scarce after your dance and you didn’t see him again for the rest of the night.

You nod, not trusting your own voice.

The cab ride to your hotel is nearly silent. Every small noise is amplified, like you shifting in your seat, and Bucky loosening his bow tie.

“Have you decided how long you’re going to stay?” You ask, finally, the one question that’s been plaguing you.

He looks at you, eyes impossibly blue in the streetlight glow. “A few days, I think. I have some… I have some stuff I want to see before I go home.” He shakes himself out of whatever memory he’s in. “You? The full ten days?”

You shrug. “If I can keep this room, yeah. I can’t remember the last time I took a vacation.”

Bucky nods, turning to look back out the window again. At the hotel, he helps you out of the car and pays for the cab despite your protests, and when you get inside the elevator, you’re struck again by how handsome he looks, flushed from alcohol and a little more tousled than usual; his bow tie hanging loose around his neck and his top two buttons undone.

He catches you looking once again, but you can’t look away. You know you’re not imagining this time how his eyes darken a shade, and you watch with rapt fascination as he licks his lips, leaning down ever so slightly -- the elevator dings and the doors open.

The spell is broken.

“Bucky?”

He shakes himself out of his thoughts almost physically, and then he’s walking away from you, heading towards the room without a backward glance. 

The next morning, you and Bucky are tangled together so much that there’s no way you can get up without him waking up first. Your first thought is embarrassment, but then you just… give in. You let yourself enjoy it, only feeling guilty for a few minutes.

You’re so warm and you feel so protected… you once again curse Steve Rogers for making you think about your persistent crush on Bucky, because now you can’t get it out of your head.

“Morning.” Bucky’s voice is rough, and you jump, because he’s still got his arms around you. And he’s awake.

“Morning,” you say cautiously.

“Sorry,” he slowly pulls away from you, the tips of his fingers lingering on your arms. “I’ve been told I’m like an octopus in my sleep.”

Something about Bucky seems different first thing in the morning. His walls aren’t up.

“It’s okay. I’m not complaining about free cuddles.”

He smiles, you can feel it where his stubble scratches your temple. There’s something like giddy excitement brewing in you.

“Can I-- I have a favor to ask.” He says. “I have to go somewhere today… I-- if you don’t have plans, would you come with me?”

You crane your neck to meet his eyes. He looks nervous.

“Okay,” you say simply, because you think if he keeps looking at you like that, you’d follow him anywhere.

He tells you to dress casually, so you opt for a simple jeans and t-shirt outfit with a cardigan thrown overtop. You pack whatever you think you’ll need for a day in your backpack and follow Bucky out when he’s ready. He seems to know where he’s going, and you walk with him in comfortable silence.

He starts fidgeting the closer you get to a massive hospital, and when you get close enough to read the sign, you realize this must have been where he was taken for part of his recovery.

“Bucky--” You breathe, because this is too much. He’s trusting you with too much, and you’re not sure you deserve it.

“I--” He swallows hard, “The doctor who saved my arm still works here. I try to write as often as I can, but I thought a face-to-face visit was probably overdue.” He looks down at you, “I just-- I haven’t been here in years. I don’t think I can do it alone.” His words are measured and careful, and you realize how hard it must be for him to be here in the first place, let alone trusting you with something like this.

You feel tears pricking your eyes and you fight to keep them back. “Okay, Bucky. Yeah. Let’s do this.”

He smiles shakily at you, and on a whim, you reach for his hand. When he freezes, you realize you’ve gripped his left hand, the one with the scars encompassing his wrist and three of his fingers, the hand connected to the same arm that was nearly blown off in Afghanistan, the one that nearly cost him his life.

He doesn’t let go. If anything, he squeezes your hand tighter, and you feel another tendril of affection curl around your heart.

Inside, he introduces himself to the woman at the reception desk, and after a few questions, you’re directed towards an elevator and given directions to the floor the doctor’s office is on. You think Bucky has memories of this place for the way he leads you there with almost no words.

A quick knock on the door, and then he’s shaking hands and exchanging broad grins with a young woman.

“Sergeant Barnes!” She exclaims after letting go of his hand. “It’s about time you showed your face around here.”

Bucky is blushing and you’re so enamored with him you can barely stand it. While he’s talking, you dig your phone out of your pocket and text Peggy.

I know you’re on your honeymoon, but SOS! I need help.

Bucky turns to you, and you realize he’s trying to introduce you.

“This is Shuri. She’s the one who operated on me and helped me with PT after my injury.”

“It’s really great to meet you,” you tell her, trying to ignore her curious look.

“You as well.”

She and Bucky start talking again, and even though you can tell Bucky’s still a little nervous to be here, you’re enthralled by the sibling-like relationship he has with his former doctor.

“I want to make a donation,” Bucky says quietly. “I didn’t know who to go to about it. I want to give it specifically to this ward, to the work you’re doing.”

You feel like you’re intruding, but he keeps looking to you like he needs reassurance, so you smile at him.

“I’ve-- I’ve been putting money away over the last few years and I’m at a place now where I want to help.”

You send another text to Peggy.

Seriously, SOS!!!!! If you don’t call me soon, I’m going to do something I regret.

A minute later, your phone rings, and you excuse yourself to the hallway.

“Thank God.”

“Darling. I love you, but what could possibly be so important that you had to call on the first day of--”

“I think I’m in love with Bucky and I have no idea what to do about it.”

A choked noise comes from behind you and you whirl around, mortified to see Bucky there, eyes wide, pale.

“Oh, shit. Peggy-- I have to go.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Bye, love you.” You hang up quickly, and take a step towards Bucky before you even register you’re doing it. “Bucky--”

“Are you-- I heard you were talking to Peg, I thought something was wrong.”

“I’m-- oh God, Bucky, I-- I have to go.”

“Wait--”

Your tears are overflowing now. You’re so embarrassed, you have no idea how you’re going to look him in the eye, let alone sleep in the same bed as him.

Vision blurry, you decide to take the stairs two at a time instead of waiting for the elevator, and you’re gone before he can catch up to you. 

Bucky’s ears are ringing as he stares after you. He feels like he has shell shock again - unable to comprehend anything that just happened.

“Need a chair, soldier?” Shuri asks him, clearly having overheard the entire thing, and he nods dumbly, basically collapsing into a chair near her desk.

I think I’m in love with Bucky.

Your words echo over and over in his mind, and he honestly can’t believe what he just heard.

Your friendship has always been complicated, but the way Bucky feels about you is simple. He’s crazy about you. Crazy for you, and terrified that he’s not good enough for you, so he’s pushed you away time and time again, despite all evidence pointing to the fact that you might like him too.

Sharing a room -- a bed -- with you has been every one of his daydreams come to life. (A lot less kissing, sure, but whatever)

Now this-- this revelation, it’s too much.

“All the most important events of your life seem to take place at this hospital, Bucky.” Shuri says, gentle teasing in her tone.

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky groans, “What the hell do I do?”

“You’re going to go after her.” Shuri says simply, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. She rolls her eyes. “It’s obvious you’re in love with her too.” Bucky thinks he must look horrified, because she continues, “You’ve never brought anyone here before. I couldn’t convince you to come back even for a tour of the new labs. And the one time you do come of your own free will, you bring her. What does that tell you?”

A half hour later, Bucky has called you three times and has checked at the hotel twice, and now he’s at a park near the hotel, on a bench, having no idea what to do.

Of course that’s when Steve calls.

“I hear you’re having a crisis.”

Bucky groans. “‘M not having a crisis. A moment, maybe.”

“She told you she loved you?”

“She told Peggy she loved me, and I was eavesdropping, and she ran away crying.”

Steve is silent.

“Right? It’s bad. It’s so bad. Maybe if I’d just been… I don’t know. More talkative during this trip? Or maybe I should have just gotten my own room and saved us both the trouble.”

“Look, no offense, but you’re both so dense.”

Bucky scoffs. “Thanks.”

“I love her like a sister and love you like a brother, but everyone knows you two have a thing for each other. Why else did everyone steer clear of the two of you at the wedding? It’s obvious, dude.”

Bucky has never felt so stupid in his entire life. All these years, he tried to distance himself from you, sure that he was only going to get hurt if he put himself out there. He liked you too much to risk ruining a friendship, even if it was barely a friendship to begin with. Quick to argue and stubborn, you were also generous and kind, beautiful, and passionate about your work and your friends and your family.

You’re everything he’s ever wanted, and you terrify him.

And you love him.

Apparently.

He’s on his feet again.

“I have to go,” He tells Steve. “I’ll text you later.”

“Good luck.” 

You’re back at your shared hotel room, trying to pack up and leave before Bucky finds you. It’s childish, sure, but you can’t take this anymore.

You’re going to get a new room at a different hotel, and try to salvage the rest of your vacation.

The door opens before you can finish zipping your bag, and you turn to see Bucky storming in, his face unreadable and a piece of paper in his hand.

“What the hell is this?”

You turn away. “It’s a note.”

You assume he’s noticed your bags. “Were you really going to take off and just leave a note that says you’re sorry?”

His hand on your elbow forces you to turn around, and you feel like you’re going to cry again.

His face softens. “Talk to me. Please.”

You bury your face in your hands. “I’m so sorry, Bucky. You were-- you were trying to do something for you, and my loud mouth just had to ruin it. I never meant for you to find out--”

“You were never going to tell me you’re in love with me?”

You blanche. “God, I mean-- I don’t know! It’s not… this isn’t easy…”

“You still think I hate you.”

You freeze, thinking back to your drunk conversation from a few nights ago. “I don’t think you hate me.”

“Good. Because I don’t. Far from it, actually.”

You try to squash the little seed of hope blooming in your chest.

“You know, when we first met, I was jealous of you. You were closer to Steve in a year than anyone else, and I didn’t know where I fit anymore. I didn’t understand what made you so special.”

Frowning, you try to turn away, but he won’t let you.

“But then I got to know you. I got to know how you care about people, and how you looked after Steve when he first got back. I learned how you do everything you can to make other people happy, but don’t try to do the same thing for yourself. I learned that you’re a lightweight and you’re a flirt when you’re drunk, and I learned that I--” He stops, catches his breath. “I learned that it only took me a few months to fall in love with you so deeply that I can’t see my way out.”

Your insides feel like mush. The touch of his hand slides up to your shoulder, and you feel more alive the closer he gets to you.

“I pushed you away, because you’re way too good for me, sweetheart. You always have been. You don’t need someone like me weighing you down. And when this room mix-up happened, it was both the best and worst thing to happen to me.”

“Don’t you dare,” you whisper, and his brows furrow, confused, as you continue. “Don’t you dare say you’re not good enough. You’re-- I’ve never met a better person than you, James Barnes. I think I’ve loved you since the day we met.”

You’re both silent, staring into each other’s eyes, the room crackling with the energy of confessions and tension.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly you’re kissing, Bucky’s hand moving to the back of your head as his free arm slides around your waist to haul you against him. Fire licks through your veins as he deepens the kiss, barely letting you break for air before dragging you in again, consuming you entirely.

It could be minutes or hours that you’re kissing him in the middle of your hotel room surrounded by your luggage, but when you break apart, your legs are weak and he chuckles as he keeps you upright, a smug smile growing on his face.

“Shut up.” You say weakly.

“Don’t leave.”

You sigh, forehead leaning against his collarbones.

“I haven’t had a vacation in a long time either, now that I think about it.” He offers, head tilting to one side as he looks you over. “You think you could stand to room with me for another week?”

You can’t stop touching him; hands gliding over his shoulders as he noses at the spot behind your ears where you’re the most sensitive. “I might be able to be talked into it.”

He smiles, and it’s blinding. “I love you,” he whispers, right before he kisses you again.

Later that night when you call Peggy on speakerphone and tell her the entire story, Steve takes the phone and says “told you so,” before hanging up.

Bucky’s arms around your waist, you’re already thinking of writing the concierge who made the room mix-up a thank you card.

End