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[beaversatemygrandma]

I want to share what has to be the funniest scene from my story. It’s something from an early chapter and doesn’t involve enough to give the whole story or require much of the story itself to understand. So, have it. Quick intro to the point in the plot: They’re hunting an oligarch. That’s all you really need to know.

I call it the Birdwatching Stakeout. Click the read more. You know you’re curious. ;)

The day was so dry and hot. The car’s air conditioning could hardly keep up with the sunlight bearing down on it. Pete and Ayla were right back in the same spot on the street from the week before in front of Skylights Company building.

“I swear to god, if you put the AC down to sixty-eight again when we get home…” Ayla grumbled as Pete reached for the air conditioning on the dashboard again.

He leaned back before turning it cooler yet again. “I miss the cold already. This is excruciating,” he said.

“You know you’ll get used to it.”

“I wasn’t used to it when I lived here and I’m still not now,” he laughed. “I want snow.”

“It’s May.”

“That hasn’t stopped it before.”

“Okay, I’ll admit I miss that too. I haven’t seen it since I left New York… And that’s been, what? Thirteen years now?”

“Maybe I do want to eventually get back into Canada. Out in Virginia is okay, but it’s not that.”

Ayla sighed, shaking her head, “Maybe one day you will. But please stop freezing me out at night.”

“What about now?”

“Now is fine, but don’t kill the car battery. I don’t want to ask somebody for a jump out here.”

“I can do that.”

They fell into another silence. Pete reached for his energy drink in the cupholder beside him and watched the building’s gate closely. There was far less traffic than there was last weekend.

“I wonder if he’s even here today,” he said. “…I should go in there.”

Ayla abruptly reached over and laid her fingers over his wrist. “I think that’s the caffeine talking. Your heart rate is ridiculously fast. Don’t do something stupid.”

He leaned closer to the window, looking down the street. “There’s that ‘park’ next door that reaches past the building. I could go through there to get behind it and check around back for a potential entrance.”

“I just said not to do something stupid,” Ayla muttered.

He didn’t seem to hear her. “There’s got to be a second-floor window that’s unlocked. Maybe it’s calm enough in there that I could slip in unnoticed. Then I can find out if Walford is even here today. Maybe even find my way to the top floor,” he pondered, looking over the building. “That or find the parking lot and see if there’s some high value car sitting out there. I doubt any of his workers could afford something nice. There’s no way he’s paying them well with how much he’s got. Maybe the old bastard has a Rolls Royce or something. That would be obvious.”

Ayla silently stared at him. “Are you done now?”

He questioningly glanced back at her.

“You should go out there and search around but don’t go inside. You’re just asking to get into trouble,” she said critically. “Searching the parking lot could be a good idea. But who knows if he’s one of those rich guys with a regular economy car? Some of them are like that.”

“Fair point…” he breathed out.

Pete then reached behind him and pulled a backpack from the backseat. He started going through it, pulling out various things.

“Alright, I’m going to bring the IR camera, a regular one, and…” he trailed off, pulling the IR camera from the bag. “…Though there’s likely cameras in there… Hmm.”

Ayla leaned over and opened the center console. “I don’t want to go through the hassle of figuring out how to dye hair that’s as dark as yours,” she said, pulling out a beanie from the stacks of junk she had already accumulated in there. She held it out to him and as soon as he took it, she pulled a hair tie off from around her wrist, handing it to him as well.

“…Oh,” he breathed out, looking to the hair tie.

“It’s long enough to do that now.”

“No way,” he said, just wanting to prove her wrong. He pushed the bag off his lap and down in front of his feet. He put the hair tie on his wrist and began a long struggle of gathering his hair up.

“Don’t forget the back too,” she pointed out.

He sighed, finally getting it together. Once it was up, it was obviously tight and barely long enough to stay held. He flicked down the visor for the mirror for a brief second. “I hate this. This is going to give me such a fucking headache,” he said, flipping it back up.

“Yeah, you’ll be fine,” Ayla said, motioning to the beanie as well.

He put that on as well. The hair was out of the question for an identifier. That paired with a high-collared button up hid the tattoo on his collarbone and the usual odd contouring Ayla had done, he wasn’t the same person visually.

“Okay, if I get caught near around the back of the building, I’m going with the ‘confused birdwatcher’ for this one,” he said, grabbing the cameras again. “And you should pull around the corner to the front of the park. Not near the entrance though. Don’t want to be suspicious.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I swear I’ve got the same damn security guard from last weekend eying the car,” Ayla said.

“He can’t do shit unless you’re on the property. It’s fine. But I’m more worried about what’s out back,” he said, closing the bag again.

“…Hold on, ‘confused birdwatcher’?” she asked as he reached for the door handle.

He stopped and looked back to her to quickly explain, “Okay, back in Montana, I was at that national park after hours again and got stopped by a park ranger. He of course was there to kick me out for being there and I didn’t want to be brought home by the police again for sneaking out again. So, I ended up coming up with this really enthusiastic lie about how I was trying to find a certain bird that only appeared during those hours. The guy tried to give me advice about it and let me off with a warning about how he saw a bear around. Then I, of course, ended up still meeting up with Logan on the trails.”

“…I both envy and worry about your childhood,” Ayla said after a moment.

He nodded slightly, unsure how to respond. He grabbed the camera and said, “This is what sells it.”

She furrowed her brows. “Why did you have a camera when you were sneaking out to meet your boyfriend?”

“It wasn’t anything bad, I swear,” he said quickly. “We found a ravine off the path, and it looked fucking amazing at night. It was a full moon; the lighting was great. That was why.”

She doubtfully tilted her head towards him. “Okay… Sounds cool, I guess… Uh, go find the parking lot.”

He nodded and quickly got out of the car. As soon as he shut the door, Ayla was already preparing to pull into the street to go around the corner.

Pete headed down the street, towards the park entrance, carefully looking around for further security and cameras. The only camera should be set in the large tree towards the center of the garden. Everywhere but the entrance should be invisible to it. The cameras on the opposite side of the fence in the back were the ones to worry about.

He kept his hand on the camera, only now noticing just how much he was involuntarily shaking. Maybe today was the one day where so much caffeine wasn’t a good idea. It’s been so long since he had gotten proper rest that he had forgotten how caffeine affected him.

He walked around the small garden path into the back where he could visibly see the cameras mounted on the wall outside the building. There was no way around those. He was going to be seen no matter what he could do.

Birdwatcher. It’s perfect. This is a park. There’s got to be a bird around here. He thought, looking over the park, seeing if there were any around.

There weren’t.

This is a shitty excuse for a park. It has only one tree. He then noticed a pigeon on the opposite side of the fence. I would prefer the courtyard to this too, bud. He had to stifle a laugh about how ironic this was for his excuse as he carefully stepped over the flowers to press against the fence.

He peered over the top, keeping an eye on the bird and the cameras just above it. The courtyard was empty. This was perfect timing. Pete reached up and pulled himself over the fence in one quick motion.

As he started across the courtyard, he looked back at the pigeon. It only looked back at him. This was a bird that was very used to people around. He squatted down barely a foot away from the bird and it stayed in place.

I wish I had something to give him. Bread maybe. He thought, laying the camera on the ground, and taking a picture of it just to help his case of being the ‘birdwatcher’. It was just a pigeon and if anybody knew anything about birds, this might not work. The picture came out super well. The bird was looking right at the camera as if it had been posing.

“Yeah, I’m calling you Jacques. You’re cute as all hell, bud,” he whispered, barely reaching out towards the bird. It was then that it finally hopped away from him.

He stood back up, knowing that he couldn’t let Jacques distract him. Even if he knew that if he reached fast enough, he could easily catch it. But then what? He has a pigeon. No matter how badly he wants to do that, now is not the time.

“Alright, bud, where’s the parking lot?” he asked quietly, glancing back to the bird.

To his surprise, Jacques flapped up to a nearby picnic table, looking back to him. He followed the bird as it hopped from table to table and up onto the canopy covering the courtyard. The bird seemed to be pointing towards the back of the building.

Behind the building, there was a short private road leading from the opposite side. A line of hazard markers lined the edge of the courtyard and led into a parking garage tunnelling below the building.

There’s no way that bird just pointed me where to go. Pete thought, looking back to the pigeon. It was still on the top of the canopy, looking towards the private road to the parking lot. Pete then spotted a brightly colored food truck parked in the street just on the other side. Oh. Jacques wants food. Can’t blame him. A taco truck right there is tempting… Okay, focus. Where’s the security back here?

Pete looked around carefully for any cameras that weren’t accounted for. There was one right at the entrance of the garage and one by the gate at the end of the road. Both looked to be the larger cameras like on the sides of the building and at the secret factory in the next town over.

He took a breath before heading into the garage, ducking down near the wall to avoid the camera. The garage went further into the ground than expected. It was starkly dark, and cars were lined up in an organized manner. It was so organized that it could be necessary to get around any valets working.

There were bright lights towards the back. That spot should be avoided. He continued down the lines, looking over everything inside. There were mostly cheap cars in there, assumably all employees.

It wasn’t until he got to the second floor lower, that he saw something that could be a higher-class worker. He crouched behind an expensive electric car and took a quick picture of the license plate and what it was. This way, he might be able to confirm the owner. It’s possible this might be the car they’ll have to follow later. Upon further investigation, there were three other cars of this type. He took note of every license plate number and model.

Abruptly, the lights on the bottom floor turned on. Pete ducked between the cars and knelt in front of one, just behind the tire. This was as invisible as he could get.

“I can’t believe that old bastard took a damn taxi last night. And he has the balls to call in and order me to drive his damn car home today! He was the one drinking on the clock!” a gruff voice sounded from the other side of the floor.

“He’s the boss. We gotta listen to the boss man,” another said.

“What’s stopping him from doing this himself? Had he just lost himself in his privilege?” the first asked. He then softened his voice in a mocking tone, “Like, ‘Oh, my driver can handle this. No, he won’t get any extra pay or bonus from taking time out of his workday to help me. I own this man.’ Fuck him.”

“I get it. I know. It’s fucking annoying, but it is our job.”

“This isn’t part of the job description. I’m here to park for the employees and keep their cars safe down here, not run errands for this asshole.”

I hope they’re talking about Walford. Pete thought, slowly creeping towards one of the less extravagant cars to hide.

The two men stepped up to the last car he had taken information from, barely five feet away from him. He slid behind the tire of car just beside them as they continued to argue about their plans on getting back. They eventually landed on one of them driving their personal car to follow so they could get back to work.

Pete stayed put, silently listening to every move. He couldn’t make any movements until the lights were off again. It didn’t take much longer for the two valets to drive the car out and the lights to shut off behind them. He pulled out the camera and looked over the pictures, making a mental note of which one it was. Now to get out of here.

Pete slowly made his way out the same way he got in. He made sure to hang back from the exit as he carefully watched the valet get his personal car to follow their boss’s. He ducked back behind another car and waited a few minutes for them to be gone.

Once they were, he came back out and headed for the exit. He dodged the garage camera again and headed back to the courtyard. Jacques was still there, sitting on a picnic table. It looked to him and cooed, flying back up to the canopy, looking towards the nearby taco truck.

Sorry, bud, I’m broke. I’d buy you some chips if I could. He thought, looking to the pigeon disappointedly.

“Hey, you! The courtyard is closed to tours today!” A yell came from across the courtyard.

…Oh fuck. Think of something. Pete turned to the voice and called back, “Sorry, I was out at that park looking for birds! One ended up coming over here and I followed it. I’ll leave!”

“Birds? There’s nothing but pigeons out here!” the guard yelled back, still approaching him quickly.

“Pigeons?” Pete gasped, acting offended. “You can’t tell the difference between a common pigeon and a gorgeous Jacques’s Dove?”

The guard stopped barely five feet away from him. He looked up to the pigeon on the canopy. “…I don’t know enough about birds to say, but I’m pretty sure that’s a pigeon, man,” he said, looking to him questioningly.

Pete scoffed; he was having fun with it at this point. “That’s no pigeon. You can tell he’s a Jacques’s Dove by his blue beak and pinkish plumage! That thin neck just further points to being a dove! Besides, I have no idea why such a rare bird would be out here. The forums online made it seem like this was a real park where they could be seen, not some tiny ass garden! I can’t blame the bird for going elsewhere. That’s a shit excuse for a park.”

The guard was visibly confused. “…That—That’s a fat dove… Uh… Yeah… The park sucks…” he took a step back, glancing over at the small park over the fence. “Well, you saw the dove, right? So, can you… can you go now?”

Pete raised up his hands and nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I got my pics. I was already on my way out. Sorry for causing trouble.”

“Yeah, no problem. Just… Don’t do it again. Stay in the park,” the guard said.

He stayed in place, watching Pete carefully as he headed out towards the street. There was no point in climbing the fence again when there’s a guard already closely watching. He headed around the corner and started down the street towards where Ayla had parked in front of the park.

He got into the car as soon as he found it. He pointed forward, telling her to get moving. She immediately did.

“So, there’s two valets heading towards Walford’s house right now to bring him his car. I got the license plate number and I think they shouldn’t be too far from here,” he said. “Thought I did get held up a little by a guard.”

“How’d you get away from that one so easily?” she asked.

“I made him to think a pigeon was a rare dove,” he chuckled. He pulled up the recent photos on the camera and showed her the picture of the pigeon in question. “This is Jacques. He’s a pigeon.”

She glanced at the picture and laughed. “I can’t believe that worked.”

[aethelwyneleigh27]

TF141 Scenarios and Headcanons

(Them interacting with the mini and pink version of Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley) Inspired by my previous post

Credits to @puff0o0 for this wonderful art that I requested and all the other art that's used in this post, she delivered and slayed. I genuinely love your art style because the textures looks like crayons were used and it's just so cute, thanks so much Puff <3

Pairings:

Ghost x Wife!Reader

Justice for Soap? Poor guy has been a victim in this entire set of scenarios.

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

❥ Simon bringing mini Ghostie for her to interact with the Taskforce again. Safe to say Soap got hit at the back of his head for even trying to make fun of the pink carrier (that you, his loving wife bought for the baby), while the little one was fidgeting with the red bow that decorated the front of the strap carrier.

❥ Ghostie didn't earn the nickname till the second time Simon brought her with him bringing the mask along and she proudly wore it. They actually went through the effort of getting her a tailored camo print uniform with a little patch embroidered with the words "youngest recruit" and "Riley" embroidered on the back of the shirt.

❥ Mini Ghostie keeping herself busy with the crayons and papers provided by uncle Gaz, drawing herself, her dad and the other Taskforce members then proudly showing it off to them after they're done being busy. (It earned a spot on the base's fridge, Price bought a magnet for that purpose alone because it was held up by tape for the longest time)

❥ A little visual for you guys provided by my favorite and beloved mutual @puff0o0:

❥ Ghostie and Gaz exchange drawings on a basis, more oftentimes it's funny faces that Soap makes. Soap saw them..

"I DINNAE LOOK LIKE THAT"

*Gaz raising a brow at him while Ghostie was giggling at Soap raising his voice*

❥ And yes, Gaz was responsible for the shrekified version of Soap that was on the fridge.

❥ Soap tried to draw something as an insult towards Gaz but it backfired and little Ghostie ended up loving it and taking it home to display it on the wall of her room:

❥ Gaz tends to be pursuaded by every little pout Ghostie gives him, probably the reason behind him being her favorite uncle. Ghostie made a drawing of Gaz once with an outlined heart around the picture, he now has it framed on his desk.

❥ Safe to say that Ghostie was amused by Soap getting hurt in any way possible, at first it started with her dad playfully punching the sergeant that made her giggle but then it slowly started to turn into her taking matters into her own hands and actually hitting uncle Soap herself. (Poor Soap)

❥ Little one constantly either slaps Soap or pulls on his mohawk. Yeah Ghost probably taught her that, she loves seeing her dad amused and giggles when she makes her dad chuckle. (Cue annoyed Soap noises)

❥ Uncle Gaz calls her "Boo" sometimes because he thought it was fitting and yes he took it from that one animated movie character, more likely sets his phone up and let's her use it to watch Disney movies because he's the only one who has Disney plus. (Frozen and Mulan were playing non-stop and now they all know the song "I'll make a man out of you" word for word)

❥ The idiots encouraged little Ghostie to chug a bottle full of milk as if she was chugging beer while cheering her on, Simon sipped on his whiskey not knowing he'd regret it later on, they all had to deal with a massive spit up because they made her drink too much and too quickly. (Soap had to wash that shirt 3 times before the smell of milk became more faint)

❥ Little Ghostie calls Price her grandpa and nobody's correcting her even if she genuinely thinks that Price is her dad's father. Price was definitely the one who had a uniform tailored for her but it was Gaz's idea.

❥ Believe it or not, Little Ghostie is loved by almost all of the recruits. Lieutenant Riley has a DAUGHTER?! He has a wife..? Yeah that was their first reaction. But ultimately they loved her because Little Ghostie was a sweet bundle of joy who loves giving flowers to female recruits and uncle Gaz.

❥ Despite all the bullying uncle Soap has been through, he still loves that kid to death and couldn't be more prouder when L.T. Riley and his wife chose him, Roach and Gaz to be godfathers.

❥ Speaking of uncle Roach, him and Ghostie get along really well. Even though there's not much of a verbal conversation going on, they still manage to cause chaos together. She likes to fidget with the makeshift antennas that come with the helmet of his tactical gear.

❥ Nobody can stand it when she's crying, she's not even loud, she's almost so quiet when she cries but gosh is it heart breaking. Especially for Gaz, Ghostie's teary puppy eyes looking up at him while her arms are in the air. "Uppies uncle, please" she hiccups.

❥ Gaz is the one always carrying her around, if everyone's being honest then I don't think she was ever down on her feet at some point unless she was playing around with the recruits.

❥ If Simon was being honest, he enjoyed the sound of Ghostie's feet thumping around base.

❥ Ghostie loves handfeeding her dad, she does it all the time. Technically she still has a difficult time using utensils so hands would do for now.

❥ Roach gave the little thing a sip of his coffee and she was practically bouncing off the walls. Yeah that wasn't a very bright idea.

❥ She was a late teether, Soap was the victim. Not only was she caught chewing on the strap of his tactical gear, Ghostie actually bit him with her baby teeth that were only halfway out when he tried to swat her away.

❥ Uncle Gaz and grandpa Price taking out the little one for ice cream so her need for sugar is satisfied and to cool her gums off.

❥ Ghostie's uncles taking her to the park/playground. (Gaz was the one recording)

❥ Soap got in trouble for teaching mini Ghostie how to curse, you weren't too happy about that because now your daughter is saying "bitch" endlessly in the wrong context.

A/n: I hope you guys liked it, I put a lot of effort into this and the last post. Please check out Puff's account if you don't know her yet, I promise she is the sweetest person and her CoD content is a big hit.

[paint-the-walls-white]

Mein Liebe

Pairing: König x PlusSized!Reader

Summary: After meeting an incredibly large man, at a McDonalds, every part of life changes thanks to him.

Warnings: BDE! StomachBulge! Doggy! Sideways! Oral(M2F)! CreamPies! Breeding! Lots of biting! SexualHarassment!

König was big. He was always described as mountainous, even towering over the most intimidating members of Task Force 141, Ghost included.

He was very reserved as a person, social anxiety getting the best of him most of the time. But, nonetheless, his team always did their best to push him out of his shell. But at this point they were getting desperate.

Which is why they sent him to McDonalds to get everyone Lunch. He was bitter about it, but he was pretty hungry, and it was only a short drive from the base. Besides, it would be a nice change of pace from the cantina's shit on a plate.

It was supposed to be easy, he even had their orders on a piece of paper. But then the drive through intercom was down, courtesy of TF141 tampering with radio signals in the area.

König had to go inside. It was still fine though, he could always use the kiosks right?

Of course not. A cruel twist of fate really. The local crackhead had caused a ruckus and had broken both of them, shattering the screen.

He'd have to order at the counter.

Heart racing, eyes darting, and breath unsteady, he approached the counter. It was quiet inside, not too busy but not entirely empty either.

But then his heart started pounding for another reason.

The prettiest sight he had ever seen. Bright eyes, shiny hair, soft, plump lips, long eye lashes, and a little weight he could hold onto.

"Hi, welcome to McDonalds, my name is Y/N, what can I get started for you?"

König swallowed sharply, your voice was music to his ears. A sweet melody he would never get sick of. A heavy blush crawled up his neck and face as his eyes dilated.

"U-uh, I need, uh.. Scheise.. Uh Big macs? And uh.. Chicken nuggets."

You nodded, refusing to break eye contact. This hulk of a man was checking all the boxes, even ones you didn't even know you had. Your eyes looked dark with how big your pupils were, attempting to flood your field of vision with this man.

"Ok, what size for those? And is that a Ten or Twenty Piece?"

König swallowed again, his throat impossibly hoarse. "Large. uh.. Twenty please"

"Perfect, and the drinks?" You eyed him through your lashes. You wanted to climb him like a tree for sure, but you also just wanted to lie on him like a mattress and soak in his scent. Gun powder, smoke, and sweet sweet Pine. It was heavenly.

"Just S-Sprites and a Coke.." It was taking so much out of him to talk to you, but he wanted to keep going. If he didn’t, surely the TF141 would laugh at him. Again.

"Alrighty, your total is going to be.. $53.28, Is that going to be for here or to-go?"

You smacked yourself mentally, of course it was to-go, There was literally no one else decked out in military gear there.

"To-go," He watched, almost amused as you flushed in obvious embarrassment.

"Right, of course yeah.." You looked at him again, very intimidated by his gaze, "What's your.. name?"

This broke the intense concentration he had just developed. His name. Why did you want to know his name? Did you want him too? No, there's no way. But then why? What was his name? His name.. oh yeah,

"König."

"Oh, ok.. Is that spelled K-o-n-i-g?"

He gave a curt nod and paid in cash, gingerly brushing against your small hand. The contact did not go unnoticed by you. You shivered a bit and counted out the money hurriedly, hands shaking and face red. You ripped the receipt from the machine and wrote something on it before speaking.

"I-I'll call you when it's ready! Here's your change," You placed the bills in his palm with the receipt and dropped the coins in after, reveling in the warmth of his hand for a second before pulling back and getting the drink cups for him.

"Here are your cups and carrier, I doubled it for you so they won’t fall out."

You were so considerate and sweet. He reveled in your presence, waiting patiently at a booth across from the counter, knee bouncing and hands fiddling with his gloves and Velcro.

After a few minutes of waiting and watching you intently, you called for him,

"König? Your order is ready," You stepped out from behind the counter and approached him. He quickly stood, taking one step to meet your three before offering him the bags.

"Would you like help taking it out? To the car I mean.." You bashfully gnawed on your lip and gazed up at him. He nodded, but truthfully he could have easily carried it all without your help, he just wanted more time with you before he had to leave.

You passed him the last bag and he turned to face you again, gaze intense and completely silent.

"Oh, I have something for you," You reached into your back pocket and pulled out what looked like a small controller with random buttons on it. "It's a fidget toy, I use it when I get anxious too, but you seem like you could use it a bit more.."

He swallowed hard, trying to pass the lump in his throat as he took in every detail of your face.

"Thank you.. Wunderschöne Augen (Gorgeous Eyes).." He muttered the compliment under his mask, eyes shining in awe as dusk hit your bright irises.

"What?" You didn't understand what he said, but the way his eyes were softening and the way his shoulders were relaxing clued you in that it was probably a compliment.

"U-uh.. Your eyes.. They're beautiful.." He averted his gaze. You blushed, averting your gaze as well, muttering a small thank you before you heard yelling from inside.

"Ugh.. Bitch.. Sorry, I have to go.. Duty calls.. haha.."

You waved goodbye and started walking away, "Oh and I left you a little present on your receipt!" Your brazen attempt at flirting caused you to panic internally the rest of your shift.

On the way home, it wasn't any better, you were itching to pick up your phone and see if he had texted you, but you refused on account of your parents dying in a car accident because of texting and driving.

So when you got home you waited, and waited.

But Konig was freaking out so hard. The second he saw you had left your phone number and a little "Call me at 11!" he panicked, speeding back to base where he sat with TF141 barely touching his food as he held the receipt with shaky hands.

Soap, who was sitting next to him, nudged him with his elbow, "What's wrong big fella? Not hungry? Whatchya got there?" he looks at the receipt, eyes widening and a grin spreading across his cheeks, "Oh boy! König here got a girls number!"

König snapped to look at him, eyes dizzy in complete shock, "Gott... was soll ich tun..? (God, what should I do?)"

Gaz spoke up, "Call her you big oaf! she's probably waitin' for ya!"

"But.. It is not 2300 hours.. That is when she said.. to.. to.."

To everyone's surprise Ghost spoke up, "Then eat. Call her at 2300."

Soap patted him on the back, "Lad, I know yer nervous, but listen to Ghostie over 'ere. Give er' a call."

He nodded silently, scarfing down his food before leaving for his room. He anxiously waited until 2300, each minute feeling like agony as he sat there, cell phone in hand, contact pulled up, hovering over the call button.

She sat on her bed, waiting for his call, but at about 10: 50 she decided to give up and rolled over to sleep, her phone next to head. She was so disappointed..

After what felt like forever, she groaned and checked her phone. 10:59. Then 11:00.

Her phone buzzed in her hand, an unknown caller. No way..

Hands shaking, König held the phone up to his ear,

'Hello? König is.. that you..?'

He sucked in a breath at your voice, "Ja, It's me.. How are you..?"

"Mm a bit tired.. but I don't mind staying up to talk to you, I don't have anywhere to be tomorrow.."

He huffed at the sound of your voice, it was angelic. "Ja? what if.. what if we.. go out?"

You gnawed at your lower lip, "I'd like that.. Where would we go?"

"You could.. You could come on base? I'll show you around Liebe.."

"Ok, when should I be there? Wait, what's the whole process of me coming onto base..?"

His chuckle rang out in your ears. He felt oddly confident with you, like there wasn't a worry in the world. He explained about the visitor passes and how this week was friends and family week so it should be very straight forward.

'Ok, I’ll be there at 8 am then? or wait.. 0800 hours? Did I say it right..?'

He chuckled again, "Ja Liebe.. Good job.. Get some rest,"

You told him goodnight and hung up the phone, squealing into your pillow. How could you sleep when you were going to see him?

The very next morning you woke up at around 5 am, you took extra time showering, making sure to use every single product you had, brushed your teeth 2 times, and washed your face 3 times before putting your hair in a hair curler and sitting to do your makeup.

Over an hour later of fucking up eyeliner, restarting twice and stabbing yourself in the eye with mascara, you finally pulled your hair from the curler, pulled on a frilly pink dress, and some chunky white heels with frilly white socks.

You also accessorized with little flowers wherever you could and headed out the door to Base, which was luckily a few minutes away.

Upon reaching the gate the guard eyed you up and down, "Who are you here for, pretty girl?"

"Um.. König?" His gaze made you uncomfortable as he barked out a laugh.

"What’s so funny, Private?"

His voice was obviously chilling but you couldn't help being excited to see him.

You hugged tight around his waist, your head resting just under his chest. He flushed, patting your head as he glared at the man in the booth, silently demanding all inclusive passes for everything.

"Liebe, come with me.. I have much to show you.."

He offered you his hand, bringing out a bouquet of flowers from behind his back. You eagerly wrapped around his arm and nuzzled into his side, taking the flowers.

"Oh thank you König, they're beautiful..!"

"Anything for you Liebe.." You looked up to meet his intense gaze, blushing as you watched his eyes darken and soften. He was so freaking.. Ugh!

The very first thing he did was show off his quarters. His bed was massive of course, you assumed far larger than any other available bed. Squealing, you belly flopped onto the bed.

"Your bed is so big! and it smells just like you" You buried your face into the blankets, taking in every ounce of him as you could, until you felt weight on either side of your head.

"Ja? You like it?" You flipped onto your back to face him, quickly locking eyes with him. His gaze made you blush but you enjoyed his presence.

"Oh my god wait can you please do something for me? I know this is gonna sound weird.." You fiddled with the part of his mask that was draping over your chest, "Could you lay on top of me? just full on crush me,"

His expression immediately changed to bewilderment before chuckling, "I'll suffocate you Lamm (Lamb).. But alright.."

Konig eased down onto you, putting the full weight of his torso down on your small frame. You had bent and spread your knees so he would fit snugly on top of you and you let out weary breath,

"Oh my god this is perfect.. Just stay here for a sec.." Your breathing was labored and he could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

"You sure Liebe? You sound like you cant breath,"

"No no, I'm good...this feels amazing.." The weight literally made you decompress as you settled into the bed, gently scratching his back with your newly manicured nails. He groaned softly into your chest, resting his face between them. You both laid there for what seemed like forever but was actually 15 minutes before he raised himself on his elbows.

"We should go now Lamm, there are many things to do today," You nodded, dazed, breathless, and completely flushed. The sight nearly made him pass out as you panted below him. He raised you to your feet and walked you down to the Cantina where you both got breakfast and he led you to the table with TF141 You were directly behind König as he approached the table. Soap greeted him first,

"Oi Lad! Did you end up callin’ the lass last night?"

"Ja, She's here today."

Gaz whistled, "Well where is she? don't tell me ya scared her off already."

König looked to his left and right frantically before you spoke up meekly, "Here.." You stepped out from behind König, his hulking figure incomprehensible to yours. You shifted uncomfortable under the gobsmacked gaze of TF141 before König helped you into your seat and sat beside you.

"Lad, you're gonna split 'er in half- Oi!" Ghost elbowed Soap, sharply glaring at him. "ahem.. I meant, what's yer name Lass?"

You told them, completely anxious. They were all so intimidating, and not the same way König was. König was hot and intimidating, these men were straight up scary.

"Don't be shy little lady! We ain't gonna bite! Well I mean the mountain here might but still!" Gaz's words brought little comfort but the idea of König biting you was a nice distraction.

"Lass sie in Ruhe! (Leave her alone) Christ you lot are making her anxious! Bastarde..." Konig placed a comforting hand on your thigh and you scooted closer to him to whisper in his ear, which he had to lean down for you to do.

He flushed and sat straight up, shoving food under his mask and choking on it slightly.

'I wouldn't mind if you bite..'

The boys all cackled, completely unaware of what you had said. The breakfast went well, but you eventually broke away from the group to spend the day with Konig. He pampered you endlessly, buying you anything you touched, doing everything you wanted to do just as excited as you were about it, but only because he was doing it with you.

While mini golfing, because why not, he stepped away to use the bathroom. You did a couple of practice shots while waiting for him until you felt a presence behind you.

"Hey pretty girl, who are you here for?"

"He's in the bathroom." You didn't even meet his gaze. It didn't matter, König was gonna be there any second anyway.

"Hey.. Look at me when I'm talking to you," He grabbed your shoulder, digging his fingers into the skin. It hurt. The atmosphere changed suddenly, a threatening aura quickly approaching. But it didn't matter.

Because you swiftly turned to face the man grabbing you and crunched the chunky heel of your shoe into his crotch. There was a sickening crutch, a pathetic squeal and the area went quiet with the collective wince of any man in the immediate area.

"Don't touch me," You nonchalantly returned to practicing your putt as Konig warily approached.

"Gott lamm.. he's never having kids.." You looked up at him for a second.

"I told him I was here with someone else and he grabbed me. Not my fault."

He chortled and patted your hair. You whined that he was gonna mess it up but you could see the smirk in his eyes.

"I'd rather ruin it another way.."

You challenged him, "I'd rather you ruin my makeup, but I suppose that could work too,"

He faltered, Clearly a bright red under the mask before he gently grabbed your hand. You met his gaze again and smiled softly, nodding before he dragged you away from the game,

"König-! I can't keep up-! Eek!" He stopped before throwing you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing, holding down your skirt as he sprinted to his room.

König slammed the door behind the two of you and threw you onto the bed. You squealed with laughter as you bounced, nervously sucking in a breath as he started gently taking off your socks and shoes, placing a kiss on the top of your foot and along your shin until he reached the skirt of your dress.

"Mein Gott... I want to worship every inch of you Mein Liebe.. You're so perfect.."

You stood and turned around so he could unzip your dress, a pure white lacy bra and thong with little pink bows underneath. He groaned under his breath before reaching for his mask. He hesitated for a second before ripping off the mask. His hair was thick but short, a very shiny black. a scar made its way from his chin across his lips and to the opposite side of his nose.

He was so fucking hot.

And he was also beet red, waiting for your reaction, but you just jumped, pressing a kiss to his lips and giggled. You cupped his face, eyes dizzy and lips upturned in a small smile

"You're so handsome, why hide it?" He groaned, sinking to your lips where he kissed you as deeply as he could.

"Mein Liebe.. Ich werde dich zu meiner Frau machen... (Im going to make you my wife..)"

You whined into his kiss, tugging at his shirt, "Off.. please.."

"Patience Lamm... let me pamper you.." He gingerly rubbed a finger against your sloppy folds and groaned "Scheiße.. You're so wet already.." You whined, tightly gripping his shoulders as you met his gaze.

He sunk a finger into you, watching intently as you threw your head back and moaned loudly. His finger was so big and so thick, it was almost as big as your two fingers alone; and then he added a second.

"Ah-! König.." you arched your back into him, feeling your gummy cunt squeeze around his fingers. He groaned into your neck.

"Das ist... Good Girl.. cum on my fingers mein Liebe..." He bit softly into your neck, causing you to seize up and cum on his fingers, squirting into his palm. You'd never been able to cum before but he had barely touched you and here you were, shaking under him with your slick pooling on his blankets.

"König.." you whimpered, watching his gaze darken as he lapped his fingers clean of your mess before he shifted onto the floor, slinging your legs over his shoulders, pushing your underwear to the side and lapping at you like a starved man.

It had all happened so fast and so slow at the same time that you didn't have time to protest or react. But god did it feel good..

He groaned against your clit as you gripped his hair and squeezed his head tightly with your thighs. they were so thick and soft, he had gotten so used to firmness muscles and callous skin. It was incredible.

All you could do was arch into him, on the verge of another orgasm so quickly until he pulled away. You wanted to protest but watched as he stripped off his shirt, moaning at the sight of his broad chest, thick shoulders, and soft abs.

König hurriedly unbuckled his pants, the sound of it alone causing your heart to pound faster, then watched as his dick sprang from the confines of his pants, painfully hard. And scarily big.

"Oh my god.." It was almost a horrified whisper if you weren't so mesmerized by the sight of the throbbing vein along the base and the angry red of his tip.

You finally unclipped your bra and threw it to the side as he ripped off your underwear, angry red lines marking your skin. He trailed kisses up your soft, fatty stomach. He loved it so much, how soft and doughy you were underneath him, sucking every inch of skin he could into his mouth as you moaned and writhed underneath him

"Pleasee.. No more teasing..."

"Mein Liebe.. I must mark every inch of your skin.. how else will others know who you belong too?"

You hid your face with your arm in embarrassment and whined as he sucked a nipple into his mouth, pinching the other one,

"Don't say it like that.."

He groaned as he rubbed the head of his cock along her wet slit, sinking in the head and moaning.

"Scheiße.. You're so hot Lamm... and so wet..Scheiße"

"K-König-! It's..too big-!" You whined, clawing at his back as he slowly sunk into you, each delicious inch stretching you impossibly wide.

König moaned as he sunk to the hilt, reveling in your tight, gummy cunt before he slowly pulled out and thrusted back in.

"Mein Gott Lamm.. So fucking tight...Scheiße!"

You moaned as he repeatedly sunk into you, picking up the pace until he groaned loudly, roughly grabbed your thigh and slung it over his shoulder, pounding at your hole at a brutal pace, likely bruising your cervix.

It felt so good and so overwhelming as a white heat bubbled in your core at each pass he made against your sensitive walls. He growled, biting into your neck and shoulder, lathering the harsh marks with his tongue as you took his cock so greedily.

"Das a good girl.. Look at you, you keep sucking me back in.. Gott.. Cum for me Lamm.."

She whimpered, just on the precipice of the most intense orgasm of her life, clawing at his back for purchase, begging for relief.

Tears flooded from her eyes as they rolled into her head as she came on his cock, squeezing around him tightly and moaning his name loudly, "König-!"

her vision was flooded with white, her orgasm prolonged as he continued to pound into her until he spilled his seed deep into her cunt. He groaned softly as he pulled out, listening to the hurried footsteps just outside the door. Whoever was listening, definitely wasn't anymore.

König chuckled against your cheek, "They heard you mein Liebe.. heard you taking my cock and my seed like such a Braves Mädchen..(Good girl)"

You flushed a bright red and buried your face into his shoulder, legs trembling around him, "König..! that's so embarrassing.."

"What my little Lamm? Want to be quiet as I fuck you? Why don't you bury your face in the pillows then hmm?"

He flipped you onto your stomach, pulling you to your knees as he tutted at you,

"Look at this waste..." He swiped the oozing cream pie up with his fingers and stuffed it back in. You whimpered as his calloused fingers rubbed your sensitive folds as he fingered his cum back into you.

"Das a good little slag.. taking my cum.." He grinned down at you as he slapped his cock on your clit, relishing in the yelps and whimpers you tried to hide.

"Beg for it Mein Liebe.. Beg for my cock.." He pressed soft kisses into your shoulder then bit your ear.

You muffled an embarrassed please into the pillow until he pulled you up by your hair, eliciting an insanely erotic moan as he tugged at your sensitive scalp, "Please-! Please König.. I need it-!"

"Braves Mädchen..." He stuffed his cock back into your gummy cunt, groaning as he raised up on his haunches. He pulled out until just his head was left, then he thrusted in as he pulled your hips to meet his.

He hit impossibly deep and impossible hard against your cervix. It would have hurt had the pressure not been so good. You moaned into the pillow, drool soaked into the fabric, and tears ran down your cheeks. Your makeup and hair was thoroughly ruined, but you didn't care; It was being ruined in the best way imaginable.

You came on his cock again, squirting onto his slick skin, dripping down onto the covers. He groaned at the sight.

"Look at you.. you're such a mess for me.. So slick and tight.. So perfect.. Mein Braves Mädchen... Scheiße.. I'm gonna cum.. Take it.."

You moaned loudly into the pillow, relishing in the feeling of his seed pooling into your ruined pussy, completely drunk on his cock. Eventually, all of the sensations were too much and you passed out.

König chuckled as he slipped from you, "Mein goodness Lamm.. You've made quite the mess... Lamm? Mein Liebe? uh oh,"

He turned you on your back and pressed his ear to your chest listening to your relaxing heartbeat and shallow breaths. He noted the small smile on your face as you slept peacefully before pulling you into his arms and grabbing a different blanket to sleep in.

It had just hit dusk when he heard a knock at his door. König stood, fitting his dick back into his pants and pulling on his mask before covering you with the blanket, kissing your head and opening the door.

"What?" He was obviously irritated, but it simmered when he realized it was Soap.

Soap glanced past König and smirked, "Good god is she dead?"

König rolled his eyes and blushed, "No, just passed out, What do you want Soap?"

"LT has a mission for us. We're gonna be deployed next week, I figured you'd want to tell your lass before then."

König's eyes saddened as he looked back. He had only gotten to spend a day with you and he literally didn't want to spend a second away from you. Now he had to leave?

He offered Soap a curt nod before slamming the door in his face and striding back over to you. you had turned to face the door, eyes slightly open and a tired frown on your face.

"You're being deployed?"

"Ja.. I'm so sorry Mein Liebe.. " he brushed the hair from your face and kissed away the tears of streaky mascara.

"I promise I'll come back safe.. Keine Sorge (Do not worry)"

As you moved to sit up you winced at the ache in your legs and arms. He scooped you into his arms as you wrapped around him like a koala.

"Please tell me you're not leaving to get away from me.." The worried cries that escaped your anxious mind stabbed him in the heart. It hurt so much.

"Oh Mein Liebe.. I would never.. This is killing me.. Nein.. Id never.."

You pulled away, peeling up the mask over his nose and kissed him,

"I'll write to you every day you're gone.."

"I will read them every day.. And any day I cannot write.. I will write two the next day.. So on and so forth.."

You whimpered in his arms. You weren't sure why it hurt so much, maybe he was your soulmate, because that burning pain in your heart was mirrored in his and it fucking sucked.

The few days leading up to the deployment he spent every available second talking to or pampering you. It could be gifts of food, flowers, or stuffed animals. But it was often multiple orgasms, shaky legs, and painful looking hickeys littered across your neck, shoulders, breasts, thighs and ass.

He bit into your shoulder, teeth marks angry and red. You whined as he licked away the stinging pain as he thrusted into you again and again.

"At this rate.. Mnn.. These wont fa-Aye-!de... until you're backk-!"

"That's the point mein Liebe... Scheiße.. You're so tight.."

You watched in the bathroom mirror as he tightly held your hips to his as he pounded against you brutally trying to shape you so you never forget the feeling of his cock.

The week went so fast yet so slow all at the same time. When you parted one last time you cried into his arms. You didn't want him to go, not when you were falling in love with him.

Every day seemed bleak. You wrote to him every day about all the thoughts that had crossed your mind. You had sent him various and frequent care packages. It was almost scary how you knew exactly what he needed.

He had a hard time falling asleep? You sent him a weighted dinosaur covered in your perfume and a bottle of the same kind in case the smell faded. You also sent him drowsy tea and so many baked treats.

His feet and knees were killing him? you sent him memory foam gel inserts, somehow in his exact size and Icy Hot to help with the pain- and of course more treats.

You baked so much in your spare time because of how lonely you were. It hurt to be without him, and you feared every day that he was hurt or dead.

Months of letters back and forth. Your friends kept urging you to just sleep with someone, so you cut them off to find better friends. They didn't know him, they didn't get to call him a weirdo.

Oftentimes at work you would get berated, and since you were more stressed out, you often snapped back. This sometimes worked better than that good old fashioned customer service attitude.

"You don't get to yell at me because you forgot to order a shake. I put your food on the warmer so it won't get cold, it'll be ready in a minute and a half. Have some patience."

Your face was stern but not mean. This often got you more tips. And phone numbers?

Why the hell did creepy old men think it was ok to hit on a girl half their age? And why did they find you yelling at them arousing?!

Every day at work got harder until finally, FINALLY, you were accepted into a paid internship through your university and you made far more in a field you were studying to be in. It was honestly your dream job but there was one big problem.

Joshua.

He was a good worker, always got work in on time, but oh my god was he a pervert. He had already slept with half the women in the office, but for some reason he really wanted to get with you. And the worst part was he was your boss.

"I'm not interested sir, please keep this professional."

"Oh come on sweetheart, what's wrong with a little messing around?"

"Well for one-" He always interrupted you, it really pissed you off.

"I'll give you a 50% raise if you sleep with me,"

"You literally can't, and-"

"I'll work my magic sweetheart!"

"Stop Calling me that! I am not sleeping with you Josh! Fuck Off!"

You had stormed back to your cubicle and not much later had gotten an email from HR about disorderly conduct. and who sent in the complaint?

It wasn't Josh, It was fucking Debbie.

She may have been worse than Josh, because she slept her way up the ranks and was his current play toy. The reason she complained?

Fraternizing.

What. The. Fuck.

You had been there for Six months and never once spoke out against anyone, and the one time you did because you were still being sexually harassed, someone tattles on you for yelling? Hell No.

That day when you got home, you cried. And you cried hard. You loved your job so much, but the work environment was so toxic, you didn't know what to do and you missed König so much it hurt and-

Your phone started ringing. König was calling.

"H-Hello?" You sniffed, raising the alarms.

"Mein Liebe? What is wrong my sweet? Who made you cry?"

"I-It's nothing I'll tell you later, please, just tell me you're coming home soon.. I miss you so much.."

He huffed, "Soon my love. The mission was successful. That human trafficking ring was completely demolished. I'll be home in a month."

"Oh my gosh-! a month?! That's so soon! What date exactly, I'm writing it down on my calendar."

König chuckled as he heard your feet run across the house. He told you the date and excitedly wrote it down.

"Now Mein Liebe, tell me. Who. Made. You. Cry? "

The crushing weight of anxiety and stress pressed down so hard you just sobbed and sobbed. You told him about the harassment, how you loved your job but wanted to leave because of some jerk, how everyone was great except for like two people and then you told him who it was.

"And if Josh could just fucking leave me alone I wouldn't have a meeting with HR because Debbie doesn't like the idea of her douche bag getting with someone else!"

"What did you say his last name was again?"

"uh Davidson.. why?"

He chuckled again, "No reason my love.. I'm running out of time on this call, Ich Liebe dich."

"I love you too König, I’ll write to you tomorrow ok?"

"Do not fret Liebling, It will all be taken care of."

You had no idea what he meant, but you smiled and hung up the phone. You had always felt so much better after talking to him or reading his letters.

Which is why you wanted to do something extra special for him, especially since you had been dating for nearly two years at this point.

So that weekend you scheduled with a photographer friend of yours a sexy photo shoot where you posed in all different kinds of underwear and suggestive poses. You both giggled as you wrapped up the pictures in a little scrap book and added it into his next care package, with a little note to open it when he was alone.

Apparently, the note had slipped from its place on the cover and when he opened the box, normally to share the snacks you send with TF141, he opened the book with a crowd gathered over his shoulder before quickly slamming it shut.

He stammered, he couldn't even get a word out as even Ghost patted him on the shoulder, hooting and hollering with laughter at his embarrassment.

"Good on ya Lad! That Lass really loves ya!" Soap patted him on the back extra hard, causing the book to fall from his hands and flip to a random page where you were clearly seen clad in black lacy lingerie and one of his spare masks on.

He scrambled to pick it up ready to explode as the laughter got even louder, the group hunched over, relishing in his misery. In his heart he knew it was all good fun and he'd be able to laugh about it later but right now he wanted to melt into a puddle and die.

When he was alone, he made good use of the pictures, fisting his cock as if it were your tight pussy wrapped around him. There were a plethora of pictures to choose from, but you with his mask on just did it for him; especially with that look in your eye, like you were ready to be bred.

He came in his palm, quick to wipe it away with a tissue as he continued to admire your shy yet confident face, pupils blown wide, cheeks a healthy glowing red and your skin flushed pink. He noticed that your skin was healed from his marks, which he would have to change as soon as he got home tomorrow.

Konig was coming home early with a surprise- and to handle your problem.

The next day had definitely started hellish. You spilled your coffee on your blouse so you had to go into work with just the tank top and suit jacket, which of course was perfect for prying eyes, no matter how hard you hid your cleavage.

The meeting with HR went ok, especially since you brought up the sexual harassment, which led to an investigation on Josh, but you were sure it was going to lead no where (as usual).

And then you went to lunch. Which for some reason, Josh saw as an invitation to sit down with you. He had talked so much that you had drowned out everything, completely unaware of your surroundings. Except for when he grabbed your hand. You yanked it away, ready to yell at him but he stopped everything.

He wasn't even looking at you. He was looking behind you, completely terrified. And then you felt that familiar hand on your shoulder.

"Is this the guy you told me about Mein Liebe?"

You whipped around and stood to hug him, crying happy tears, even as his tactical vest dug uncomfortably in your skin.

He hugged you tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he glared down at the small man. He chuckled, shifting to a lighter tone.

"I've missed you too, Liebling. Give me one second.."

He stood up fully, turning his attention to Josh. He grit his teeth.

"Ah, you must be the man Mein Liebe was talking about, haha! Boy did she talk about you. Ahh.. Yeah if you ever make a comment about my wife or to my wife again, I will kill you." Josh chuckled nervously and König cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry, that sounded like a joke, I will actually, Fucking Kill you."

The cafeteria was silent and you smirked at Josh pissing his pants.

"Now, my Liebe, where were we? Ah yes."

You watched, tears welling in your eyes as he knelt before you and pulled a small box from his pocket. You laughed and cried and covered your mouth and cried, nodding your head.

"I haven't even asked yet Liebling.. ahem.." his gaze flicked around the room at the cameras but he ignored them, right now he needed to be with you.

"Mein Liebe.. being away from you.. for.. so fucking long.. has been insufferable... Ich liebe dich so much.. I need you to be my wife.. so badly.. so desperately.. I need your comfort, and your touch and your love more than I need oxygen. Please, marry me?"

You jumped and wrapped around him so tightly, crying and nodding yes. It would have been pathetic if it wasn't so sweet.

"There is not a doubt in my mind that I want to be married to you."

He gently took your hand, slipping the ring on your finger and kissed your hand. Afterwards he bought you flowers, your favorite of course, and took you to lunch for the remainder of your break, and then he remained guarding your cubicle. Which was good as Josh approached several times but turned away the second König gave him a glare.

This repeated for the remainder of your work day until he drove you home where he continued to service you, right on the wall by the front door.

Your skirt was bunched up around your hips, sitting on his shoulders as he lapped at your clit like a starved man, not even bothering to take off the mask all the way, but pushing it above his nose.

His fingers pumped into you as you gripped at the top of his head, head thrown back as you rutted against his face, desperate for a release.

You quickly squirted in his mouth, but he kept going until you were sobbing that it was too much, which was only after another two orgasms.

"I can't help it mein Liebe.. You look so fucking Wunderschön with my ring.. Gott I'm lucky.."

He threw you over his shoulder like a sack of flour and brought you to the bedroom. His cock was painfully hard, but he didn't care. He needed to replace all of the healed marks on your skin.

König ripped off your tank top and bra, quickly discarding the mask entirely as he bit into your shoulder, making his way up your neck with rough sucks and even rougher bites until he had made his way across your collarbone.

All you could do was moan at the pain of his teeth and the pleasure of his tongue as he moved his attention to your breasts, trailing his treatment back in between your legs where he ripped off the remainder of your clothes.

He lapped up your arousal once before making his way over you and pulling his cock out of his pants. The head was drooling with cum as he continued to kiss your body, worshiping every freckle, mole, and stretch mark until he met your lips and sunk all the way to the hilt.

He groaned at the feeling of your gummy walls squeezing him tightly.

"This is so much better than my hand Liebling... Scheiße.... So beautiful wrapped around me like this.. Gott.."

"Königg.. That's embarrassing..." you whined as he pulled out and sunk back in, head thrown back as tears flooded from your eyes.

His pace was ruthless as he rutted into you desperately, fucking his cum into you every time he finished. He refused to let up, his pent up arousal was too much, even as he had you on your side, leg thrown over his shoulder, squeezing your ass and tracing the bulge in your stomach every time he filled you with his meaty cock.

Fat tears kept rolling down your cheeks as you felt that impossibly good pressure on your cervix each time he kissed it with the head of his dick, knowing it would be bruised for at least two weeks.

Your lips parted in a silent scream, drool slipping onto the pillow as you came on his cock again, the bed sheets long since ruined. He groaned as he spurted thick ropes of hot cum into you again, pressed as deep into you as he could before collapsing into your chest, kissing the valley between them sweetly.

"You're going to be so Wunderschön pregnant with my babe mein liebe.. Gott.. So Wunderschön.."

"I love you König.." you weaved your fingers through his hair, gently scratching his scalp as he sighed contently, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Ich Liebe Dich, mein Lamm.."

Two weeks later, while he was at work you had taken a pregnancy test. Pregnant.

No one was shocked, to be honest. But everyone was definitely happy.

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

Endings and Beginnings - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster / Fem!Reader (Wife!Reader)

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Pregnancy, Second Person POV ("You"), No Physical Description about Reader

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Summary: It's Maverick's retirement party but Rooster's far more concerned about you, his pregnant wife, than anything else.

A.N. Rooster is retired in this story and it's set a few years after TGM.

Edit: Part 2 is now out!

Master List

Maverick was officially retiring from the Navy. Or finally, depending on who you asked. The Hard Deck had been cleared out for the party and several generations of naval aviators, active and retired, and their families were spread out around the space. Drinks were poured continuously, there was pizza and snacks and even a cake with a Tomcat on it for later.

“Are you sure that you’re okay to be here?” Rooster asked you softly, grabbing your hand.

“I’m fine,” you assured your husband. “Just pregnant.”

“Very pregnant,” Hangman added, causing Rooster to glare over at him. Phoenix whacked Hangman on the arm your behalf, causing the blond to huff and complain. “What? It’s true!”

“I’m fine,” you repeated, squeezing Rooster’s hand. “I’ll sit down if I need to and there’s plenty of water and snacks that I can eat.” You released his hand and nudged him in the direction of Maverick, who was chatting with a few pilots his own age. “Go, mingle. Shoo. It’s a party. Party.”

“Only if you promise to let me know if you need to go home or to the hospital or—”

“—Rooster, I’m fine. The baby isn’t coming for another two weeks. Now, go. I think Mav’s been trying to subtly introduce you for an hour now.”

“Keep an eye on her for me,” Rooster told the others before heading over to Maverick.

The newly retired pilot was all smiles as he chatted with his old friends. But as soon as Maverick spotted Rooster walking over, he quickly moved to pull him over to the older crowd of pilots.

“She finally kicked you over here?” Maverick asked, referring to you.

“Apparently, I’m hovering too much,” Rooster joked with Mav.

“Well, it’s a perfect time to reintroduce yourself to everyone.”

Maverick gestured around the half-circle of former naval aviators. Slider, Hollywood, Wolfman, Chipper, Sundown, Merlin, and Viper all nodded to Rooster and Rooster shook their corresponding hands. It had been a long time since he saw any of them, what with the whole paper incident, but Slider still dragged him in for a noogie like he was eight-years-old.

“So, you were Maverick’s RIO in that whole business?” Merlin asked, referring to the mission.

Even though the mission was still highly classified three years later, the fact that Maverick and Rooster had barely made it out alive wasn’t. Well, that and word got around when an old smashed up Tomcat was unloaded off of a carrier.

“How was that?” Merlin continued.

“Most terrifying experience of my life,” Rooster responded, half-joking, half-serious.

“I understand completely,” Merlin mused, causing Maverick to smile and shake his head.

“That’s not why you turned in your wings, is it though?” Viper asked with a knowing expression.

“No, no,” Rooster replied immediately. “When I got married and my wife and I started to plan for having our family, I decided that I wanted to be there for every step. And I didn’t want her to worry about me coming home at the end of the day. So, I finished up my service requirements and retired.”

And, well, for a kid who lost his father to the Navy, Rooster’s reasoning didn’t raise a single eyebrow. Every naval aviator knew the risks involved in their line of work and while technological advancements helped decrease training accidents and fatalities, they were still always a possibility.

He wouldn’t—couldn’t—let his child learn about him from pictures, like he had to with his own father.

“And Maverick says that you’re switching to commercial?” Wolfman spoke up.

“Yeah, I have one more test to take and then I’m ready to fly, but I probably won’t start until we’re settled with our baby,” Rooster explained, nodding along.

“Your first one?” Viper guessed with an all-knowing smile.

“How could you tell?” Rooster inquired, earning a chuckle from the other fathers in the group.

 “You got that look in your eye.”

“Not too different from the rookies at flight school,” Hollywood added with an amused smile.

“It’ll pass eventually, but the first one always gets you jittery,”  

“Being a father is like learning how to fly—utterly terrifying at first, and there’s definitely a learning curve to it, but once you’re up there and you’ve leveled out, you won’t even remember what it was like before you learned in the first place.”

“I keep telling him to relax. He’ll be a natural,” Maverick spoke up, squeezing Rooster’s shoulder.

Rooster glanced through the crowd to check on you and found you sitting at one of the tables with your feet propped up on the opposite chair. You looked calm, but uncomfortable—though you’d told him that ‘nearly nine months pregnant’ and ‘comfortable’ did not go together no matter the situation.

“But speaking of, I should probably go check on my wife,” Rooster replied, his nerves and ‘Mother Hen’ tendencies, as Hangman called them, shining through.

“Of course.”

“Don’t let us keep you.”

“It was an honor to meet all of you again,” Rooster offered in goodbye, before checking on you.

The retired naval aviators watched him go and then turned to Maverick.

“God, he looks just like Goose,” Slider replied quietly.

“And with the mustache and the Hawaiian shirt too,” Wolfman agreed, sharing looks with the other retired naval aviators.

“Yeah, he does,” Maverick stated softly, watching Rooster weave through the party. “Just wait until you see him at a piano.”

Rooster slid through the crowd over to the back tables. You were still sitting with your feet propped up, a full glass of water in front of you, and your usual easygoing smile on your lips. Bob, Phoenix, and Hangman were keeping you company and spread out around you.

“You alright?” Rooster asked, walking to your side.

“I’m fine. Just wanted to sit down for a little bit. Baby Bradshaw seems a little excited about the party,” you stated, your hands resting over the swell of your bump. Rooster placed a hand under yours, where Baby Bradshaw tended to kick for the last few days. “How’s Mav doing?”

“I think he’s enjoying himself a lot. He hasn’t seen his old TOP GUN buddies in a while, so it’s nice for them to all come out to see him.”

“Well, Penny can be very convincing when she wants to be,” you mused with a smile.

Wordlessly you moved Rooster’s hand to the side, where the baby was pressing on you. Though you were growing tired of being pregnant, you didn’t think that you’d ever get tired of the way that Rooster just flipped a happy switch whenever he felt your baby.

“What are you all doing over here?” Rooster asked, turning back to the others.

“Actually, we’ve got a poll going about the baby,” Bob explained to Rooster.

“What are the votes?”

“I think it’s a girl,” Phoenix declared confidently.

“Which means that it’s a boy,” Hangman stated, just as confident.

“You only said that after you found out that Rooster and I think it’s a girl,” Phoenix retorted, causing Hangman to shrug his shoulders.

"So what?”

“I think that it’s a boy too,” you offered up. “The way that I’m carrying says that it’s a boy.”

“It’s not an exact science,” Rooster pointed out.

“No but call it mother’s intuition.”

“I guess I can’t argue with that.”

“God, you’re so whipped,” Hangman grunted, earning an elbow to the side from Phoenix.

Rooster and you ended up leaving the party among the first wave of people—mostly elderly and people with small children. But not before you received a whole bunch of random baby gifts from all of the people who missed your shower a month earlier.

“Do you want a hot bath when we get home?” Rooster offered, glancing over at you as he drove home.

“Maybe,” you sighed, shifting in your seat.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just uncomfortable. Nothing either of us can do for that.”

“You want more of that tea that Penny got you then?”

“Yeah, maybe that’ll help,” you murmured, leaning back in your seat. Your hands rubbed up and down your bump, trying to soothe yourself. “I think that Baby Bradshaw just got a little overexcited about meeting everyone all at once. But maybe some tea and a bath will help.”

“Coming right up,” Rooster assured you.

You pulled into the driveway and Rooster walked around to help you out. Usually, yo would just push his hand away and insist that you were more than capable of getting yourself out of the car, but this time you happily accepted his help.

“Are you sure that you’re alright?” Rooster asked worriedly.

“I’m fine,” you replied, pecking his cheek. “Just slow.”

Rooster walked with you to the front door, keeping a protective arm around your waist. You walked into the kitchen and Rooster instantly moved to heat up some hot water for your tea. You leaned on the countertop, just looking completely uncomfortable with your existence.

“I’ll grab the bags out of the car and then I’ll start your bath,” Rooster promised, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you.”

Rooster jogged down to the car and gathered whatever bags were sitting in the trunk. He left the go bag in the car, just in case, before heading back into the house. He wasn’t even completely through the door when he spotted you waddling towards the stairs.

“I’ll run your bath, babe, just sit and relax.”

“I’m not going to take a bath,” you called back, moving up the stairs slowly.

“You need help?”

“No, I just need to change.”

“Oh, okay,” Rooster replied, setting down the bags.

“Also, don’t walk through the kitchen yet,” you warned him, grunting a bit as you walked.

“Why?” Rooster asked, moving to stand at the bottom of the stairs.

“There’s amniotic fluid all over the floor and I haven’t gotten a chance to clean it up yet.”

“Amniotic . . .” Rooster trailed off before the realization hit him like 10 G’s all at once. “Babe!?”

Part 2

[lostdreamr-blog1]

Beautiful Stranger

Summary: Jake was talked into picking up the coffee order for the group, but little did he know he would be leaving with more than that.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Wow friends…it has been a hot minute since I have posted. Life got crazy and my motivation to write had lessened. But I am back and slowly going through my inbox requests! Thank you all for the constant love and support. Excited to put out more writing for you!

Jake had no idea how he was the one picking up coffee for the group, but here he was standing in line at an overly crowded coffee shop, twenty minutes out of the way of base.

It was obvious that he didn’t fit in with this crowd. Hipster was the word that came to mind seeing the strange outfits and unruly haircuts. Someone wearing a crisp uniform and hair with every strand in perfect place screamed odd man out. He was uncomfortable to say the least and swore up and down he would never be doing this again.

Bradley told him they ordered ahead so he wouldn’t have to worry about going through the order of nearly ten coffees, but scanning the pick-up counter told him he would have to wait some.

He found a small corner out of the way of traffic and took in his surroundings. One of the benefits of a place like this meant people watching would entertain him until the order was ready.

There was a couple splitting a bagel not too far from him. It looked like something out of a cheesy movie, with the whispering and lovey smiles. He had to bite his tongue to keep from snorting out loud.

The next group he saw looked to be college students strung out on entirely way too much caffeine with the way they were frantically typing. He didn’t miss those days of cramming for exams and writing pointless papers at the last minute. But he did think he at least looked a bit more put together when he was their age. Or that’s what he told himself.

Jakes eyes nearly passed over the young woman in the opposite corner from him, quietly writing in a notebook. She was locked into whatever she was working on, despite all the noise around her. Between the music playing throughout the store, expresso machines going off, and countless conversations being had, Jake had no idea how the woman could get any work done. But here she was, chewing on the end of her pen lost in thought, not giving anything around her an ounce of attention.

He found himself starting to really look at her. She was dressed casually but somehow managed to make it look almost professional. Her hair was pulled back into one of those giant clips that he never understood how it stayed in place all day. The makeup was minimal, but she didn’t need it in his opinion.

“Hangman?” Jake nearly jumped when he heard his order called out, breaking him away from the thoughts of the random stranger across the way. He politely nodded thanks to the barista and took the two drink carriers from her. But before he walked out, he threw a quick glance over his shoulder nearly tripping over himself when he saw the woman looking up at him. He recovered as quickly as possible, making it through the door without dropping anything.

It was on the way to base that the thoughts starting spiraling out of control. Was it a coincidence that she looked up as he was leaving? Was it his call sign that pulled her attention? And if so, why? Jake shook his head, stopping himself from continuing down the rabbit hole. He had zero interaction with this woman and yet his mind wouldn’t get off her. It was early in the morning, and he wasn’t fully awake to be making rational decisions. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

Bradley and Natasha met him outside the locker room, thanking him for grabbing the coffee. He grumbled a response and went to his locker to put his things up. Bradley didn’t give much thought to the minimal interaction with the pilot, but Natasha did. “Everything go okay with the order?”

Jake nodded his head and shut his locker. “Just don’t see why you need something that expensive and out of the way when we have a perfectly good coffee machine here.” Natasha shook her head with a smirk, realizing just how out of his element he must have been.

“It’s good coffee. Can’t help that I have expensive taste.” Jake huffed out a breath, “Lord help your future husband.”

It was a week later when he got a text from Natasha begging him to grab her a coffee from the same damn place. He went to reply no, when another text popped up saying she was running late and would buy lunch to make up for it. Rolling his eyes, he replied back saying he was feeling something expensive for lunch to match his taste. An emoji with a lovely hand gesture was sent back with the word “fine”, making him chuckle. At least it was one coffee this time.

Jake took a deep breath as he walked into the coffee shop, mentally preparing himself for what seemed like unorganized chaos. The place was packed with nearly ten people in line waiting to order. He looked down at his watch and saw that he was here around the same time as last week, but for some reason today was busier than before.

The counter was filled with drink orders, taking him a minute to read through all the names. His friends’ wasn’t there yet and he turned to find refuge in his corner while he waited. He looked around at the people and while they weren’t the same as before, the types of groups remained the same.

“For someone who looked like he’d rather gouge his eyes out than be here last week, you came back.” A soft voice pulled his attention down to a woman sitting at a table close to him, revealing the beautiful stranger he had just managed to stop thinking about.

Jake opened his mouth to respond, but for some reason words wouldn’t form. He could slap himself for looking like an idiot in front of her. He had never once been at a loss for words with a woman, but something about her made himself conscious of everything he did.

“I didn’t mean to call you out like that. I just didn’t expect to see you back so soon.” She was smiling up at him, making the tops of his ears burn.

“A friend was running late and asked if I could pick up her order.” It was a short statement, but the smile on the woman’s face dimmed a bit. “Must be some girl for you to put yourself through this first thing in the morning.”

Jake quickly shook his head trying to back track, “She’s my teammate and promised me lunch if I did this. Nothing more.” The woman hummed and looked back down at her notebook.

“Well, if you make this a regular thing, I am good friends with the staff and might be able to get your order out a bit quicker. Wouldn’t want you to go into crisis mode over a coffee shop.” She was biting back a smile as she poked fun at his clear discomfort of the place, but Jake couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Darlin’, you have no idea how much that would mean to me.” Why he just committed to this being a regular thing, he had no idea. But he did know he wanted to see the beautiful stranger again.

“Hangman, right?” His eyebrows shot up at the remembrance of his call sign. “Hangman is my call sign. You can call me Jake.” Her eyes sparkled in what he thought was amusement.

“Well Jake, my name is Y/N, and I would be happy to help you out. I am here most days working on things. Why don’t you give me your number so you can text me when you plan on stopping by. That way I can let my friends know to look out for your order.” This girl was nothing but confident. Jake didn’t think he had ever had a woman ask for his number before and he couldn’t get enough of it.

“Hangman?” His name was called out like last time, but instead of feeling relieved to get out of the overcrowded shop, he wanted to stay as long as possible. “Better get going, pilot. Wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.” She gave him a wink, something that he normally did with women, and knew he was already in trouble.

He chuckled and shook his head, grabbing the coffee and headed out to work. He hadn’t made it out of the parking lot before his phone vibrated with a text. “Make sure it’s not another week before you come back in. I might forget all about you.” Jake smiled and drove to base, texting her back when he pulled in.

“Wouldn’t want to keep a beautiful woman waiting.” The smile never once left his face as he walked in. Natasha thanked him over and over again for the coffee but stopped when he saw the difference in his demeanor this time. “What’s gotten into you?” He shrugged his shoulders, “You were right. The coffee there is worth the drive.”

She gave him a skeptical look but didn’t push him any further. She would rather have a happy Jake than one who was ready to pick you apart at a moment’s notice.

And that’s how it was for the next month. Jake volunteered to get the coffee, finding any excuse to talk to his beautiful stranger. But the visits became longer, and the texting became more regular to the point where every free moment he had was spent getting to know her. It wasn’t long before Jake asked Y/N on a date, and he quickly found that this girl was the one for him.

Everyone knew something was up with their teammate. He had become less selfish and more of a team player. A feat no one thought was possible but didn’t want to push their luck. It wasn’t until Natasha said she would get her own coffee that the truth came out.

“Jake, you have been getting my order for me for nearly a month now. I can get it this once and give you a break from the drive. Just let me know your order.” Jake shook his head at her and said he had no issues getting it.

Natasha kept pushing until Jake blurted out, “I see someone every time I go there. It is one of the few times the two of us get to spend time with each other because of our schedules.” She stopped and thought about what he had said. Who there would he see every single time?

And then it clicked.

“Oh god. Tell me you aren’t seeing Y/N.” Jake tilted his head in confusion. “How the hell do you know her?”

Natasha looked at him in shock. “Because she owns the coffee shop. And her dad is our boss.”

Jake froze as he took in her words. Owning the coffee shop made sense. She was there all the time and said she knew the staff well, because it was her staff. That didn’t bother him. What did was not knowing who her dad was.

“I didn’t know Maverick had a daughter.” Natasha shook her head.

“Not Maverick you idiot. Admiral Simpson.”

And that was when certain things clicked into place. She looked up at him the first day because she knew the call sign. Her dad had to of talked about them a time or two, especially with this new assignment. The amusement she had when he told her his name was for the same reason. She knew who he was, but he didn’t have the slightest clue who he had been talking to. This girl was okay with the last-minute changes in plans or the late replies due to his schedule because she had grown up with it. The group insisted on getting coffee there because they were supporting someone in the TopGun family.

He was head over heels for the Admirals daughter and was royally screwed when he found out.

A/N: Thoughts? Likes or dislikes? I always love hearing back from you all! Thank you so much for reading!

Tag list: @rosiahills22 @sunlitsunflowers @dempy @mamaskillerqueen @luckyladycreator2 @atarmychick007 @bobfloydsgf @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @topguncultleader @alilstressyandlotdepressy @avengers-fixation @chaoticassidy

[pathologicalreid]

Spencer ordering breakfast in and serving breakfast in bed on readers first day of spring break!!! He knows reader has been working so hard and it being hard on the bth people while he’s gone on longer cases :,) reader would def send a pic to Penelope and she’d show the others 🤭

breakfast in bed | S.R.

your boyfriend surprises you with breakfast in bed to celebrate spring break

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: fluff! fun fluffy fluff!!!!!! word count: 1.2k a/n: thank you for requesting!! it's my first day of spring break, so i figured today would be the perfect day to post this!!

At the click of the front door, your eyes fluttered open. The bright light seeping through the blinds of your bedroom led you to start squinting as you felt around the other side of the bed for your boyfriend, disappointment filling your chest when you realized he wasn’t there.

Rolling on your back, you sighed and let gravity press you into the mattress, letting yourself enjoy the comfort of your covers before sitting up and reaching over to your nightstand. You used your water carafe to pour yourself a glass of water, sipping it while you allowed your mind and body to wake up.

A rustling in the kitchen got your attention, and it wasn’t long until the door to your bedroom swung open, showing your boyfriend on the other side of the opening. “Good morning,” his voice chimed at you, “I thought you were still asleep.”

You shook your head softly, setting your water glass back on the nightstand, “Just woke up. What’s going on?” Quickly, you analyzed the sight in front of you. Spencer was dressed casually, definitely not his usual work garb – strange for a Monday morning.

He padded over to you and presented you with a tray, he extended the legs of the tray and placed it over your lap. “It’s spring break,” Spencer said matter-of-factly, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

Furrowing your brows in confusion, you looked at him. “Yes,” you said warily, “it’s my spring break.” Spencer hadn’t had a spring break since he finished his bachelor’s in philosophy, and even then, he had been working for the bureau.

“I wanted to make it special,” he told you, disappearing back into the kitchen before returning with a drink carrier and an unlabeled white bag.

Your lips parted in surprise, “You went to Moe’s?’

He nodded enthusiastically. “It’s your favorite,” he explained simply, setting the drink carrier on your nightstand before distributing your coffee and juice to your tray.

You reached for the coffee first, swirling it slightly in the cup before responding, “It’s all the way across town.” That was part of the reason you rarely went, the last thing you wanted to do at first light was commute through the district.

Spencer hummed in response, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to your hairline, “You’re worth it.” He set the white bag on your tray before climbing up on the bed with you, sharing the tray. “You look pretty,” he observed, slightly out of left field.

Setting your coffee down, you cleared your throat, “I just woke up, Spence.” Gently, you reached for the white bag, opened the crinkly paper, and let the smell fill your senses.

“The time that you’ve been awake doesn’t alter how beautiful you are,” he informed you, watching as you filtered through the food in the bag. You grabbed your phone off of the charger and snapped a picture of your breakfast in bed, quickly sending it to Penelope before typing out a message about being spoiled.

Putting your phone away, you grinned, “Maybe you’re biased by the fact that I wore your shirt to sleep in.”

He beamed at you and nodded almost imperceptibly, “There’s also that.”

As the two of you ate, you checked the time as it got suspiciously late in the morning. Crumpling your napkin in your hand, you looked up at Spencer, “When do you have to go in?”

You knew that sometimes, after particularly rough cases, Agent Hotchner would tell the team they didn’t need to come in until a little later in the morning, but it was pushing ten in the morning now and you were curious. Spencer perked up a little at your question, “I have to be there at ten tomorrow for the debrief, but I’m yours until then.”

“You took the day off of work?” Silently, you tried to remember the last time Spencer had taken a day off by choice, but nothing came to mind.

He nodded eagerly, “I wanted to spend time with you, while you don’t have work or school.” He reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before getting up and taking care of the mess.

When you weren’t at home or in school, you worked as a teaching assistant, so since classes weren’t in session, work wasn’t in session. “You didn’t have to do that,” you murmured, grabbing your coffee off of the tray before he could clear it.

Spencer smiled softly at you, leaning over, and pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek, “I missed you. We kept missing each other, I had to do something.” He slipped away to the kitchen, “I planned the whole day for us.”

A grin bloomed on your face, “You did?” You laughed lightly, “What are we doing today?”

Upon his return, Spencer paused in the opening, leaning on the painted wood of the doorframe. “We are going to go see the cherry blossoms, did you know I’ve never seen them?”

You cocked your head curiously, “You’ve lived in DC for eight years and you’ve never seen the cherry blossoms?” Really, you were surprised that you didn’t know that about him.

“Angel, I had to take the day off just to see you,” he reminded you, walking back to where you were perched on the bed. Tenderly, he cupped your cheeks in his hands, “Did you sleep alright? You looked tired last night.”

Nodding emphatically, you peered up at him, “Yeah, sleeping in felt nice.”

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows, “You’ve been working so hard lately, I want to make sure you’re remembering to take care of yourself. Especially since I’m not always here with you.”

You had to work hard, especially if you wanted to graduate early like you planned. “You’ve been gone a lot,” you concurred, “saving lives is a busy job.”

Carefully, Spencer sat down next to you on the bed, pushing the mattress down slightly under the weight of him. “I know it’s hard on you when I’m gone,” he whispered.

“I know it’s hard on you when you’re gone,” you echoed sympathetically. He had just been gone for two weeks, and when he came back, he didn’t have the energy to do anything other than rest his head on your shoulder while you worked on a term paper. When you finished for the night, he had fallen asleep like that. You didn’t have the heart to wake him up, so you both slept on the couch.

He hummed, dropping his hands to your waist, “I love you.”

Leaning up, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips, “I love you too, Spence.” You studied his golden irises, “So… cherry blossoms will take a few hours at most, what do you have planned for afterward?”

A sly grin spread on your boyfriend’s face, “It’s a secret. You’ll find out later.”

Confused, you watched as he turned around to the bathroom. Shaking your head, you reached for your phone to see that Penelope had responded.

Penny G: EEK Penny G: Morgan wants you to tell Spencer he was not aware of his game.

Rolling your eyes, you dropped your phone on the mattress and went to join your boyfriend in the shower.

[everykindofnerd13]

Trolls Human AU but it’s college student snack pack raising Tiny diamond as all of their kid when Guy Diamond finds himself with a child at the rope young age of 19.

The crew having a schedule of who watches Tiny at any given time on any given day. (It is extensive and color coded and Branch had a great time making it.)

Everyone explanding tiny diamonds repertoire of skills before he can even comprehend his own existence. Like.

Suki who holds a one year old Tiny on her lap while she works on mixes.

Cooper and D who switch off holding Tiny in one of those chest carrier things while they play DDR.

Poppy who will give Tiny a bag of scrap paper and tell him to make a picture inside it. (She doesn’t want to let him actually touch the paper, lest he ingest it.)

Branch who puts on science kids shows like Wild Kratts and Sid the Science Kid on the background while he and Poppy have Tiny so that he kid can start learning fun science stuff early.

Sati and Chenille who started by dressing up Tiny in their studio, but ended up just letting him use his creative guidance on them. (They hold him above a pile of fabric and whichever two he picks they have to make work as a garment.)

Biggie who has “tea parties” with Tiny and Dinkles (his cat) and is always trying to teach the baby proper table manners, it’s futile, for Tiny is a menace.

Smidge who teaches the baby to “work out”. (She actually owns a bunch of grip training baby toys that she hands him while she lifts weights.)

Barb who insists she doesn’t like babies but will happily take Tiny in for a night when needed, making little purée dinners for him and spoiling him rotten for the evening.

Legsly, who encourages Tiny to dance with her in her living room, gripping his hands and holding him up so they can “dance”.

Fuzzbert who is canonically mute and uses sign language to communicate in this universe, who loves to bring Tiny out to the park to experience nature with him, always mesmerized by the baby’s wonder at the clouds and the leaves. (Listen, I just like to imagine that Fuzzbert as someone who often finds themself unable to make themselves heard, quite enjoys the satisfaction of such a small child finding joy in the same things he does.)

Tiny who is very monkey-see monkey-do, and actually is a very well rounded kid after being raised by so many well rounded people who care about a love him.

When they’re together as a group, usually at game nights, they’ll make Tiny little “mocktails” aka, like, mango juice, so that he doesn’t feel left out while they all drink their drinks of choice.

Tiny is the most spoiled kid on earth because he has so many aunts and uncles willing to pitch in and get him whatever he wants.

Brozone and Viva also loving Tiny when they meet him one day while Branch and Poppy are in charge of him. Poppy has a little stroller with a sunshade, and Branch is happily carrying the baby bag so the stroller isn’t too heavy to push. At first, everyone’s mortified cause they thing that their baby siblings have gone off and had a whole baby without telling them, but they quickly notice the “Tiny Diamond” printed across the baby bag and realize it’s in fact their siblings’ close friend’s baby that they’ve heard so much about.

Viva making the kid candy necklaces only to be quickly shut down by Clay who explains that they’re a choking hazard, and they should not be given to a baby.

Bruce who has kids of his own and will invite Guy Diamond to drop Tiny off at his place when he and the rest of the snack pack want a night out.

JD who is terrified of children after how much he feels like he screwed up with Branch, but is still infatuated by the little boy and basically gives him anything he wants.

Floyd who mostly stays out of the way while the baby’s around but is the first to volunteer to put him down for a nap so that he can sing him a lullaby and rock him to sleep.

Branch and Poppy being very blush when old women tell them they have a “beautiful family” when they’re out and about, because while they do consider Tiny and all of their friends family, they know the older women mean something different.

Listen this AU is living rent free in my head. I have a timeline. I have a whole thing. I have backstories and modern world adaptations of trauma. It’s pretty fun.

[bonkhrnyjail]

sweet plum | chapter one

pairing: pedro pascal x fem!reader (plus size)

rating: g (will become explicit later)

summary: you're almost late to work picking up coffee for your client.

a/n: hello hello! i've been posting this fic on ao3 for the past few months but had a request to post here as well, so here she is !!! this chapter is just a short and sweet intro to the story, future chapters are much longer. hope you enjoy :')

p.s. i wrote this WAYYYY before the starbucks boycott (like 9 months before) and will not be writing about starbucks in the future. free palestine. fuck starbucks.

Fuck.

You can hear the beat of your boot tapping the floor incessantly as you continue to check the lock screen of your phone, staring at the digits and jolting with every minute that passes.

You’ve never had to wait more than 5 minutes at this Starbucks, but of course the one day that your presence is absolutely essential on set, some freak decided to terrorize the staff by forcing them to remake his drink over and over, until he deemed it acceptable. You tried to intervene, but one of the baristas mouthed “It’s ok” to you over the maniac’s shoulder, so you let the situation run its course.

The curly-haired man working so diligently on your order finally calls out your name; you bolt upright and book it to the counter.

“Ok, we’ve got the grande Iced Blonde Honey Shaken Oat Milk Espresso,” he places the first drink into the carrier, “the, uh, grande Sweet Cream Cold Brew and… jesus I hope this one isn’t yours…” he lets out a chuckle, “the Venti Quad Espresso with two extra shots over ice.” He wiggles the drinks into the carrier and wedges a few straws in between the plastic cups.

“It’s not,” you manage through a chuckle, “My client needs his 'go-go juice'."

He throws his head back with laughter. Surely the joke wasn’t that funny, but you appreciate the flattery nonetheless.

“Here,” you hand the straws back to him. “Save the turtles.”

“Let me get you some napkins… oh shoot, we’re out. I’lll go grab some from the back.” He moves away from you quicker than you can stop him.

Fucking hell, you have to go now. You have 15 minutes until they actually start filming, and they need you for the inevitable touch-ups that the action of the scene will cause.

You can not fuck up this job. You’re nearly at the end of filming and you’ve been early, by some miracle, every time you were called to set. They took a chance on you, and you need to prove that they didn’t make a mistake.

“Here you go.” He emerges with a small bag in his hand. “I threw in a loaf to thank you for trying to help earlier.”

“Thank you so much, it was no problem at all,” you wedge the heavy drink carrier between your arm and your torso, “I really have to run, but I’m sure I’ll be back in the next few days, thanks again!” the words trailing behind you as you high-tail it to your car.

13 minutes.

You drive faster and more recklessly than you should, one hand on the wheel and the other stabilizing the drinks so they don’t skyrocket out of the passenger’s seat. As you finally pull into your designated stall, you see your client and his sidekick leaning on the car in the spot next to yours, motioning at invisible watches and tapping their feet. You’d think they’d be grateful that you just risked your job to get them their caffeine fix.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” you shout as you grab the carrier and bag from your car and hoist yourself up from the seat. “There was this guy, he was being a total asshole, made them make his drink like five times. Here.” you hand each of them their drinks. “P, the fucking barista laughed out loud at your order. He said he was scared for your health.” 

“Listen,” Pedro takes a comically massive gulp. “I’m not as spry as I used to be, you know. I need a little help on that front.”

You chuckle and rustle in the paper bag. “Are either of you hungry? This guy gave me a cake slice but I’m not hungry enough for the whole thing.”

“We’ll split it.” Bella reaches into the bag and grabs the napkins, dispersing them amongst the 3 of you.

“Ohhhh ho ho ho… what’s THIS!” Pedro shouts, setting his cup on the hood of the car, holding his napkin up with two hands and clears his throat. “It was really sweet what you tried to do today. I’d love to repay you and TAKE YOU OUT SOMETIME?” his voice rising in pitch and volume.

He shows it to Bella and they start cackling. “It even has a little heart on it!” Bella exclaims through their giggles.

“Let me see that!” you snatch it out of Bella’s hands. The two of them start oohing and making kissy noises, prompting you to roll your eyes.

"What'd you try to do?" Bella pries. You ignore them.

“Are you guys literally 10 years old? Jesus.” you try to hold back your embarrassment as you examine the note. It has a phone number written at the bottom, signed with “xo”.

“You’re gonna call him, right?” Bella tore off a piece of the cake and passed the remainder to Pedro.

“No—” you hiss, instantly regretting the speed and intensity at which you responded. “I don’t know. Maybe? I guess he's handsome, but I don’t… know him… can we just drop it? We’re gonna be late.”

You want this attention off of you as soon as possible. You feel a hot flush prickle your cheeks and you turn your face away from the two of them, pretending to rustle through your bag and grab something.

“That's what a first date is for, dipshit! Man, you’re impossible.” Bella lets out an exasperated sigh. “Whatever,” they say, grabbing the napkin. “I’ll call him then, do it myself.”

You shake your head, chuckles still escaping your lips. “I think he might be a bit old for you, Bellie, but knock yourself out I guess.”

“That's not what I— You think I want a man? Please don’t insult me like that ever again.” Bella starts half-walking, half-skipping towards the elaborate set scattered with cast and crew. You follow their lead, Pedro trailing close behind.

“Hey, don’t listen to them. You do whatever makes you the most comfortable.” Pedro puts his arm around your shoulder and gives it a little squeeze. Your body shivers under the warmth of his touch and you manage a nod.

“Thanks.” you look up, finding him already gazing down at you, cocoa brown eyes twinkling and crinkled by a sweet smile.

“Anytime, sweet plum.”

. . . . .

chapter two

[siriusleee]

a better year

a/n: i linked this one to ao3 a week or so ago, but i figured i'd do it now i'm procrastinating the next chapter to adamantine chains lmao this is my take on the bookstore au tags: mentions of sex but nothing explicit, cursing, signs of ptsd, , original female character, retirement from the military, bookstore au 6.7k words summary: He takes her shoes off of her while she insists she can do that herself. He slips the right one off when the fireworks go off outside; the entire town is bathed in their light. "Midnight," she says as Simon rises up on one knee in front of her, ready to tell her goodbye and good night. She kisses him over the mask. She doesn't mention it the next day.

The official order rolled in on plain white paper, an unceremonious carrier of his future. He was the first to go: a sign that the team was being unraveled slowly. After all, they're not young men anymore. 

"You'll receive your pension; it's enough that you shouldn't have to work again. And we've made sure that you have an official background. It's not much, but it's what we can do."

Laswell doesn't move her eyes from his, her fingers clutching a pen so hard her knuckles are white. 

"It's for the best Simon," she says, setting the pen down carefully on her desk, "and if it makes you feel better: everyone will be released soon. I'm sorry."

He's not dumb; he knows these things only last so long. Forced retirement is something to be celebrated - celebrated that he lived long enough to have one, celebrated that his body isn't rotting in some foreign country, a home for worms. Celebrated that the 141 made it out mostly intact. Mostly together. 

Johnny claps him on the back and promises that when Laswell brings him that paper when Johnny gets his own forced retirement, he'll come to find Simon. 

Simon doesn't stay in England - he doesn't like the way the gray settles around him. He leaves the apartment Laswell set up for him untouched, a note for Johnny for where to find him. 

He finds a small house to rent somewhere in the American Southwest, spitting distance of Alejandro's territory. It crosses his mind more than once to make the trip across the border, to see how Alejandro's doing; to see if Rudy is still scared of fantasmas . 

But he isn't a fantasma anymore; he's just Simon Riley.

And it's just Simon Riley who paces the aisles of her bookstore, trying to find something to take his mind off of the fact that he is utterly and completely bored. 

"This is the third time you've been here this month. I'm not putting you into debt am I?"

Her accent is different from everyone else's in town - still decidedly American, just not from here American. Simon ignores her, his eyes focused on the row of books in front of him. She sighs heavily, but drops it, leaving him behind to stock the end cap. Last week's murder mysteries replaced by this week's contemporary romances. 

"I need to lock up you know - I can't stay here all night." She speaks as if it's not odd that Simon only comes in on Thursday nights - the only night of the week she stays open late to rearrange the end cap displays, to vacuum the floors to perfection. 

"You haven't even cleaned the windows yet," Simon replies, pulling a fantasy book from the shelf: something about a world full of malicious fairies and a secret world beneath New York. It's something new. 

"For your information, I did that before you got here," she says, pushing herself up from the floor with a groan. "And I have a life. I can't sit here all night and wait for you to pick a random book off the shelf."

"I never said you didn't."

Simon places the book as she dips behind the counter, a lukewarm cup of coffee left beside the cash register. She drinks from it, wincing at the taste as she rings the book up.

"That'll be seventeen forty-five."

Simon gives her a twenty and she breaks the change, counting out how many pennies he's supposed to have on her fingers. 

"You going to be back next week?"

"Why?"

"I want to close early next Thursday; I need to know if my best customer is going to be here or not."

Simon doesn't speak as he takes the plastic bag from her hands. She waits for him, eyes never leaving his as she sips her coffee, waiting on him to answer. 

"I can come by Friday instead."

"I'm closed Fridays."

"What about Wednesday?"

"I can stay late Wednesday."

He leaves her with just a crinkle of the plastic bag and the chime above the door.

***

He spends too much time at the gym ignoring Johnny's text messages. Johnny tells him Price was next - swearing that he was going to retire to the countryside where he can smoke his cigars in peace. Maybe find himself a nice girl to cook him dinner every now and then.

His fingers hover over the buttons, almost messaging Price to tell him congratulations. But Simon's not sure it really is. 

He's alone at night; no one's in the gym at two in the morning. No one's there to watch the way he slams the weights down when he's done or hear the way he gasps for breath after lifting too heavy - the tear in his chest that never quite healed right burning him from the inside. 

The walk home is quick; the stars shine brighter than anything he'd ever seen in England. The closest he ever got to seeing them like this was in the Middle East, but he hardly noticed the stars then. He wasn't expecting to be left looking up.

He sits in the shower at home. He can't stand the way the water hits his skin, but can't stand the idea of sitting in the water either. So he stays huddled in the corner of the bathtub, the water barely touching him. 

Simon Riley thinks about death. 

He thinks about what would happen if he died right now. 

He thinks about what it's like to die twice. 

***

The door is locked when he comes by Wednesday; he feels foolish standing there with his hand still pulling on the door, knowing it won't open beneath his touch. Foolish to think that she would-

Foolish when his heart ticks a beat as she comes around the corner. Foolish when he steps inside just a second after she unlocks the door.

"Sorry, my last employee must have locked the door on their way out. So did you like last week's book?"

"It was alright."

The silence is almost awkward as she locks the door behind him.

"Let me know when you're ready. I just made coffee in that pot behind the counter; you can have some if you want. I shouldn't drink it all myself."

She leaves him behind to disappear into the store room. He paces the aisles aimlessly, waiting for something to jump out at him. It's quiet tonight; the music that's usually playing softly over the speakers is absent. Simon can hear her through the storeroom wall moving boxes around, the sound of a box cutter piercing the quiet every so often. 

She reappears, a box in her arms that she drops heavily onto the counter. Simon watches her over the bookshelf of non-fiction works as she pulls each book out, scans it into the computer, and stacks them on the counter 

When the box is empty, she breaks it down and leaves it on the counter. She looks up, almost catching Simon staring at her. He ducks away, taking a book on the Korean War with him. At the counter, she can barely see him over the stack of books in front of her. 

"Last week was fantasy and this week is the Korean War? You certainly have varied tastes."

Simon hands over the fifteen twenty-two he owes her, her hands linger in the distance between them. 

"Do you have a job?"

"What?"

Simon's taken aback at her candor. I used to have a job he thinks, as he pockets his change. 

"No, I don't."

"Do you want one? I need a weekend worker. It's just me on Saturdays and Sundays now my other guy quit to go to college. I can't pay you a ton, but I kind of get the feeling you don't need it."

He falters for a moment; that's all it takes. If he's being honest with himself, he misses taking orders, missing feeling useful to someone.

"I can do that." 

"Can you start this Saturday?"

"I can do that."

She's locked the door behind him before he realizes they don't even know each other's names. 

***

Her name's Billy.

"What's your name; I probably should have asked that before I hired you."

Simon doesn't answer, placing the box down slowly before he answers. It's odd, telling someone his name. His real name. 

"It's Simon. Simon Riley."

She looks him over, elbows resting on the counter. 

"What?"' He asks, uncomfortable under her x-ray analysis of him.

"Just didn't peg you for a Simon. You know with your general countenance; the mask and all that."

She doesn't ask why he has the mask on. Simon gets the feeling that she never will. 

She works him like a dog; he's moving some of the shelves around when he thinks that this is probably the reason her last employee quit. It's like being ordered around by Price again, but this time his enemy is the dust. He doesn't stop moving until well after noon; sweat gathering in the small of his back. In her office, Billy is on the phone, yelling indistinctly at the person on the other line.

He doesn't have to watch her to know she's angry when she slams the phone down. He expects her to storm out of her office, to slam the door shut behind her. But she doesn't. When she comes out she's calm.

On Sunday she shows him how the books are organized, and she has him switch around the genres.

"Romance sells best during the spring, and mystery best in the fall and winter. So we need to pull the mystery books up to this front aisle and move the romance towards the back. These shelves roll so they're easier to move."

She's meticulous; Simon moves the same shelf four times before it's lined up exactly where she wants it. His constellation prize: cash wages handed to him at the end of the day.

"No paycheck?"

Her nails tap against the counter, the white paint chipped.

"I haven't processed your paperwork yet. I can take the money back if you want."

Simon pockets it.

They lock up together. It's warm outside, but she still tugs a hoodie over herself whenever she finishes, tucking her keys into the pocket.

It's a complete coincidence that they set off in the same direction. 

Simon wants a cigarette; his fingers itch for the pack in his pocket. But she'd said earlier in the day that the smell was disgusting and she couldn't breathe whenever someone with cigarette smoke on them passed her by.

They split up two blocks away from the bookstore. She motions up to the upstairs apartment of a shitty duplex. It's not the kind of place he expected her to be in.

"This is me. I'll see you next Saturday right?"

"I'll be there."

"Good night Simon."

She doesn't wait for him to say anything; not that he would have known what to say. She's up the stairs and inside (she didn't unlock the door; he has to restrain himself from going upstairs to tell her to lock it next time) before he can think of anything to say.

He smokes a cigarette at the bottom of her stairs; watches the outline of her against the curtains in her window. A fat black cat peers down at him, peers down at the cherry of Simon's cigarette in the darkness. The street lamp is burnt out, the shadows dark. He stubs the cigarette out on the sole of his boot and throws the cigarette butt out in the street. 

He's almost certain she'd chide him for that - the same way she did a kid who had the audacity to throw a cigarette down in front of her shop. 

His apartment is extra cold when he gets home.

***

"Maybe Price has it right: a life in the countryside. A pretty girl to cook you a few meals. Maybe a dog to curl up at your feet," Johnny drones on the other end of the line. Simon doesn't answer, his focus on cutting the potatoes in front of him into meticulous cubes. Johnny doesn't need him to speak. 

"What about you L.T.? What have you been up to?"

"I'm not a lieutenant anymore Johnny."

"You'll always be L.T. to me. And don't ignore the question."

Simon drops the potatoes into a pot, waiting on the answer to unstick from the back of his throat.

"Not much. I go to the gym a lot."

He doesn't tell Johnny how he has to break his gun down and put it back together three times each night before he can sleep.

"That it?"

"I'm working at a bookstore."

"A bookstore! A few months out and you're domesticated."

"Watch it, Johnny."

A pause.

"I have to go L.T.. Gaz is yelling at me."

Their goodbye is the silence that follows. 

***

Billy's arguing with a customer when he arrives Saturday morning.

"Listen, dude, I don't care what price you want to pay. This is my business and I set the prices. If you don't like it, you're not being forced to come here."

The customer drops it when Simon steps behind the counter. 

"I hate that guy," Billy tells him as she hands him a box cutter. "He comes in every week and tries to get me to lower my prices. It's a bookstore; I'm not getting rich off of this. I can't afford that. Anyway-" 

She sweeps her hair behind her shoulders. Simon catches a hint of a tattoo behind her right ear and a glint of cold chain disappearing beneath her shirt.

"Finals are coming up for the local community college so I had two different study groups book the tables in here today. They're usually pretty good, we just have to make sure to keep the coffee pot refilled for them because they'll drink it dry. It's $5 if they want coffee - per person don't let them try to swindle us - but they can refill it as much as they want."

Her fingers tap against the counter. Her nails are blue this week.

"If they ask about selling us their textbooks, tell them to come back next week. I have a shipment of children's books coming in - you can sign for it if I'm busy. Do I need to show you how to use the cash register or can you figure it out?"

"I can figure it out."

"Ok. The code is 4532. For now, do you mind breaking down the boxes in the back room and taking them to the dumpster? It's hard for me to reach to open up the dumpster lid."

She doesn't wait for him to answer before she disappears into the back room.

This Saturday is busy. 

Simon's about to snap at a kid who won't shut up about how the comic section is too small when Billy appears beside him. 

"I'll take over here Simon. There's lunch in the back room."

He's thankful for her in that moment.

He's more thankful when the storeroom shuts behind him and locks. The table has a small bag with his name written on it. A sandwich from the deli across the street and a bottle of water inside.

There are no tomatoes on the sandwich.

Just like he always orders it.

***

He smokes a cigarette again outside her apartment. But this time he tucks the butt back into the pack. He'll throw it away at home.

***

"I want to put a coffee shop in here," Billy tells him when the store is slow. She traces the right side of the store with her fingers.

"And I want to open the shop up earlier and stay open later."

"Why don't you?" Simon asks without looking up from his task of the day: putting 'half-priced' stickers on books that aren't selling well.

"I'm not making enough money. I have just enough to pay you and my weekday employee and the overhead cost of this place, plus pay myself. There's not any extra coming in. The bank-," she pauses, red nails scraping at a piece of tape on the counter, "the bank is willing to give me a loan on the coffee shop stuff - the machines and all that - but I don't have the money for the renovations. My contractor told me he'd have to build the cabinets, open up the drywall and put an extension on our water pipe. A water filter needs to be installed. It's just - it's just a lot."

She slides the stack of books he's already put stickers on off of the counter and into her arms.

"Maybe next year."

***

The next time Johnny calls, Simon can hear the strain in his voice. 

"It's my turn L.T.. Laswell said I failed the psychological and I can't stay."

"You going to keep good on your promise to come to be my annoying neighbor Johnny."

"Not yet. I want to go home to my mom for a little bit. Maybe next year L.T.."

"Next year's going to be a big year I guess," Simon says more to himself. 

"What's that L.T.?"

"Nothing Johnny. We should be happy we made it out."

Simon knows Johnny's not happy: not happy he never received the rank he wanted, not happy he has to go back home and take care of his mom again.

"You're right L.T.. I'll call you again when I'm home. How's the bookstore thing?"

"It's going alright. Bye, Johnny."

"Bye."

In the silence after the call, Simon thinks he should get a cat. Something to make the apartment less quiet; something to give him purpose when he's there.

Something that won't crawl all over him at the end of the day.

***

He needs something to do with his hands.

That's what he tells Billy when she arrives at the store on Saturday morning and Simon's ripping up a portion of the carpet, a stack of flooring waiting to be installed.

"So you have to do it when I'll have customers here?"

"Tell them it's a new addition; they'll be alright."

"I'm not paying you extra for this."

"I didn't ask you to."

Billy looks at him, one foot tapping a sharp staccato muffled by the carpet. 

"Fine."

She pauses for a moment, Simon's knife running down the carpet to separate it from the floor beneath. She picks up one of the pieces of flooring, turning it over in her hand.

"What is this?"

"It's vinyl. It's waterproof in case you spill something."

Billy drops the plank back onto the stack and leaves to unlock the front door.

Simon revels in the way his shoulders burn at the work, the way the rough concrete scratches his knuckles once everything is pulled off the floor and he has to start laying down the underflooring. He revels in the way his back cramps as he's bent over.

In the way he feels useful.

It takes him all day to get half the flooring down.

Billy doesn't speak to him about it, doesn't ask where he got the money from, or why he's suddenly doing free renovations on the place. 

Simon knows she appreciates it by the way she drops down his lunch - no tomatoes, just a water to drink- beside him without expecting a thank you. By the way, she chides the little kids who come over to ask him a million and one questions, he doesn't know how to answer and brushes them away from him. 

She catches him smoking in the back alley on his break. She's polite enough to turn back when she realizes he has his mask down and keeps her back turned to him.

"That shit's going to kill you."

"It can only hope." 

Simon can tell she's giving him a withering look at him from her position half inside the doorway.

"If you come in smelling like that cancerous poison I'm not going to talk to you for the rest of the day."

He must smell because she doesn't speak to him for the rest of the day, not even saying goodbye when they depart at her apartment.

Simon hides the cigarettes in a drawer when he gets home.

***

It's Price that reaches out to him first, a quick phone call, a holdover from their days in the field.

"Are you holding up?"

Not "how are you holding up?", but "are you holding up?" The difference between three letters is so vast Simon doesn't know how to cross it.

"I'm doing fine."

"Johnny told me you've got a job?"

"Just something to keep me occupied."

"Is that all you've got?"

"What more do I need?"

The receiver is filled with the sound of Price inhaling a cigar; Simon can almost smell him through the receiver.

"You're not Ghost anymore Simon. It takes more than that to survive this."

Survive this . As if this is the most dangerous mission Simon's ever been on as if being forcibly retired has some sort of great mortality rate. 

"Understood."

He listens to Price's dial tone for five minutes before he hangs up.

Maybe it does.

***

He paces the town at night. Once the gym doesn't become enough to wear him out, doesn't help his brain relax, he walks the streets. 

He thinks more than once that someone is going to call the cops on him and report him for being suspicious. 

But Simon Riley isn't Ghost anymore. Simon Riley is someone not worth noticing. 

It's almost surprising how well the little town sleeps with the remnants of Ghost stalking through it; how now one seems to have any idea of what he was once - and still is - capable of.

He steals a lot of time sitting on people's steps, on the stoops of little houses, picking the petals off of the flowers in big pots, and lining up the shoes and toys that were left disarrayed in the chaos of the daytime. He wonders if someone is going to catch him on their security camera and name him the town freak, but no one does.

He keeps up at it enough that he can feel the shift in the air, feel winter creeping in. He notices it in the way more and more boots are left outside, by the plants with plastic coverings over them, protecting them.

He finds himself, more often than not, taking the long way around to stop at the bottom stairs of Billy's apartment. Most nights the lights are off, and the window open. He wants to tell her to stop doing that, to lock the window, but he doesn't know how to say it without giving away his nights. So instead he keeps watch, hands buried in his pockets as he counts the moths in the streetlights. 

Sometimes though the lights are on and he can hear the sound of her house through the open window. Sometimes the cat peers down at him as if prepared to leap through the window screen at him - sometimes she grabs the cat, never looking down at Simon; more often than not the cat curls up in the windowsill without budging. 

A few times he could hear her talking to someone, the conversation muffled from above. He wondered about who she could be talking to so late at night. Why she was up in the middle of the night to talk to someone? 

He makes his way home as the town starts to wake up.

***

He moves once - to a tiny house in the middle of town, just enough to have a yard big enough to cross in two strides.

He tells Johnny it's because he was tired of the noises of the neighbors. 

He tells Johnny it's because he's taken up woodworking and needs a spot for the tools.

"What are you building you old bastard?"

"Some cabinets."

"For what?"

"Mind your own business, Johnny."

It takes weeks to get them perfect. Eventually, though, they're good enough to put in the back of a rented truck. 

He does it on a Friday when no one is around. He tells himself that it's easier that way, no one walking underfoot. 

That night he lets himself admit - just for a moment as he sits on the shower floor - that he didn't want to see her face if she's disappointed by it.

***

She refuses to open the door for him the next day, opting to yell at him through the glass instead.

"You cannot keep making renovations to my store without asking me!"

"It's no big deal; open the door."

"No big deal: you put a floor down, you handbuild cabinets, and you broke into my store to install them!"

"You gave me a key."

"Not for that!"

It's a stalemate: Simon poised with his hand on the door handle, her hands tucked into the pocket of her jacket.

"I still have to do the plumbing."

She massages her eyes before leaning forward to turn the lock. Simon steps inside with the biting wind.

"You're fucking irritating, Simon Riley."

I know .

She makes him put up the Christmas tree - a fucking monstrosity that takes up the entire front window. It takes him all day to get the decorations to her standard; her yelling through the store at him to move something incrementally to the left or right.

Billy leans on the counter, shuffling through official-looking papers and refusing to look at Simon when he's finished.

"Thanks to you," she says, never looking up at him, "I have to start getting the paperwork processed to be able to serve food and drinks here."

"Is it difficult?"

"It's not easy."

Their conversation pauses just long enough for her to check out a customer. She turns back to Simon as soon as the door shuts.

"Why are you doing all this Simon?"

He doesn't answer, and he realizes as he stands there, hands folded behind his back and spine rigid that he needs to tell her something, but all he notices is the black ink mark on her cheek. She doesn't pressure him to answer, but she doesn't let her eyes leave him.

Simon breaks first, eyes cast down to the floor.

"Ok," Billy whispers under her breath, "you don't have to answer, but just let me know when you're going to do something else. Can you text me next time before you start?"

"I don't have your number."

She doesn't ask for his phone, instead, she tears a corner of a piece of paper off and scribbles her number on it. Her hands don't shake when she holds the paper out to Simon, but his shake when he takes it. Simon can tell Billy notices. He stuffs the paper into his pocket, pushing it past his keys and his phone. 

"Hey, Simon," Billy chews on her lip.

"What?"

"Are you busy tomorrow night?"

***

Johnny's chatting his ear off, Simon's barely paying attention to him as he stares at the shirts thrown out on his bed.

"- L.T.? Simon?"

"What? Johnny, what?"

"Are you even listening?"

"No, Johnny. I'm not."

The static of Johnny's disapproval.

"What could be distracting you from my wonderful conversation?"

"I'm busy Johnny."

"With what?"

"Nothing Johnny. I just have somewhere to be later - I'm trying to get ready for dinner."

"Dinner? Like with someone else?"

Simon hangs up on him.

***

Simon wants to pretend that he doesn't have the path to her house memorized; doesn't have each step calculated to know when exactly to stand on the bottom step at 6:59 so that he can knock on her door right at 7. But he does, so he hovers on the bottom step for an extra minute.

She doesn't answer when he knocks; she yells through the door for him to come in. In his pocket his phone buzzes every few seconds, Johnny sends another message insisting that Simon tell him who he's eating dinner with. Simon thinks for a moment about blocking his number for the night.

Billy smiles at him from behind the counter, elbow-deep in bread dough. All at once, Simon feels overdressed taking in the large shirt covered in flour Billy's wearing. 

"Hey. Sorry, dinner's going to be like 30 minutes later than I said. I couldn't get this shit to rise properly for like an hour."

"It's alright."

Billy must sense his apprehension because she jerks her head at a chair pulled up to the counter. 

"Come sit down."

Simon appreciates the order. Billy rolls the dough out on the counter, measuring the thickness with her knuckle with a precision Simon would expect out of her. He has to keep himself from staring at her; instead, he analyzes the rest of the apartment. 

He can see everything but the bedroom from his one spot; that door is firmly shut. It's clean but the type of clean houses have whenever someone new is coming over and everything is thrown into a closet. After a few minutes, Simon thinks he needs to speak.

"What are you making?"

"Rolls. I made - uh - what is the fancy word for it - beef bourgine?"

"Beef bourguignon?"

Billy smiles down at the dough as she cuts squares out.

"I'm glad one of us can say it - I can cook, I just can't speak French."

"Do you always cook like this?"

"Only on special occasions."

Special occasions . 

It's awkward at first for Simon to sit there while she moves about the kitchen, putting the rolls in the oven and cleaning the counter; Billy doesn't speak much and Simon knows she doesn't feel the need to fill the silence either. 

His phone buzzes again - under the counter he checks it.

Johnny:

don't leave me hanging lt tell me whos it is

"Your girlfriend?" Billy teases without turning to look at Simon from the other side of the kitchen. 

"Not exactly," Simon says, muting the phone and shoving it back in his pocket. 

"Do you have one?" Her voice is prying, but she doesn't look at Simon as she pulls bowls down from the cabinet. 

"A girlfriend?"

"Yeah."

It bubbles inside him - just once - the urge to tell her about himself . He swallows it down.

"No."

"Not even back home?"

"Back home?"

She grins at him slyly, setting two glasses of water down in front of the two of them.

"Why do you think I have to keep paying you in cash? Your um….paperwork didn't exactly list you as being an employable American. And you have - you know - an accent."

Simon doesn't realize he's leaning toward her until his elbows hit the counter. 

"No, not back home."

She seems satisfied by that answer - or she doesn't have time to ask anything else. Behind her the oven timer beeps and she turns to pull the rolls out. They're barely out of the oven whenever she ladles the stew into the bowls and pulls two rolls off one for each of them.

 Pushing the bowl towards Simon she opens her mouth - Simon thinks she's going to ask something else but she just shakes her head. 

"I'm going to eat over there, so you can eat too," she says passing him a fork. 

"No cameras?"

"None you can see."

She retreats to the other side of the room and drops down on the couch so that she's facing away from him. Muffled behind a door to the right, Simon can hear her cat meow once. 

They eat in silence; Simon knows she's only eating slowly to give him time to finish without her accidentally turning to see his face. He doesn't need it: he realizes he hasn't had a meal that hasn't consisted of a sandwich or some form of potatoes in weeks; he eats fast, slowing down just as he finishes to keep from embarrassing himself. 

He sets the bowl down with enough dramatics that she can tell he's done without having to turn around. It's quiet again when she comes into the kitchen and takes his bowl to rinse it out in the sink. The sound of the water makes his skin crawl; it clashes with the domestic feeling of being taken care of. 

She laughs quietly to herself as she dries her hands on her shirt, lifting it up just enough to expose the little shorts she has on underneath.

"Something funny?"

"Not really funny," she says, hands stilling in her shirt, "I don't know - it just - I - well it's about this time of dinner that guys usually try to take me to the bedroom. I was just thinking about how different this night would be with anyone else."

With anyone else . 

That bothers him some.

"I don't suppose that's what you came here for," she grins at him as she speaks, resting her elbows on the counter. "Besides we don't even know each other."

"We work with each other every weekend," Simon retorts, not sure why he feels the need to prove her wrong.

"And we barely speak the entire time."

She points at him, her bright yellow nails glinting in the light.

"I've never seen you in anything other than long sleeves, even on the hottest day. You could have like fucking tentacles under there and I wouldn't know. And you don't even know anything about me."

For once, Simon doesn't think - he does.

He pushes his sleeves up slowly, each one nearly to his elbow. Billy leans forward, just enough to see the tattoo ink and scars that mar his forearms. Her fingers twitch against the countertop like she wants to reach out and touch him, but they stay still.

"Do you - do you only have tattoos on your arms?"

Simon reaches up to hook one finger in his collar and pulls it down just a half inch - just enough to show her the ink there.

"Your turn," Simon says, dropping his hand down. Under the counter, it lies fisted on his thigh.

"My turn?" Billy asks eyebrow cocked at him.

"Do you have any tattoos?"

She licks her lips once; Simon can see her thinking. After a pause she reaches down to grab the edge of her shirt - Simon's heart clenches. She lifts the hem up, just enough to show him the edge of a tattoo on her side, disappearing beneath her shorts and rising above where she lifted. She laughs a little as she drops the shirt.

"Is that all we need to know about each other?"

"It's a start."

***

He finally tells her he was in the military four Sundays after the first one. She'd told him at work she was too tired to cook and apologized, promising to make it up to him. So when he showed up at her door with a pizza and a promise that he was just dropping it off on his way home, he was surprised when she asked him to come in.

Each week they coaxed something new out of each other: a snippet about their families, about their travels. He loves Kentucky; she's from the East Coast. Her father died young. He's from England.

She's curled up in the recliner the cat on her stomach - they're watching something on television but they're both not really paying attention to it. So he blurts it out - a new confession in this weekly therapy.

"I was in the military."

"I guessed. The British Armed Forces?"

"The SAS."

She frowns and Simon stiffens.

"Is that like a unit or something?"

"Yeah."

This time she grins.

"Is that why you always lock my door behind you when you come in?"

"No. I do it because you never know who could come in when you're alone."

"You mean when you're not here."

Yes.

"No."

She rolls over, clutching the cat to her chest so as to not dump him on the floor until her feet hang over the arm and she can eyeball Simon across the room.

"I can shoot straight."

"Can you?"

***

She can. She takes him through the desert on Friday afternoon, bundled up against the cold. Out where they can target practice without anyone bothering them.

She hits every target.

***

"Christmas is this weekend."

"Yeah."

"So you know we're closed right? I'm not paying you time and a half."

A pause longer than he's used to.

"Are you doing anything for Christmas?"

"No."

"Do you want to come over?"

***

She makes Chinese on Christmas. A tradition she says because when she was younger the only places open were Chinese restaurants and her dad couldn't cook. They didn't have real dinners until she learned to cook herself, but it was always Chinese on Christmas.

The cat has a bell around its neck for the holiday and it latches onto Simon for the night. She wrinkles her nose at the cat and calls him a traitor. The cat doesn't seem to care. 

"I didn't get you a present," she says, putting her bowl on the coffee table. From his spot in the kitchen, Simon speaks.

"I didn't get you one either."

"Well, you're slowly building me an entire coffee shop."

"That's not present."

"Well, it's not exactly in your job description either."

He leaves his half-eaten bowl on the counter to drop down on the couch. She's sideways in the armchair, shirt riding up and a bruise on her shin. She's back to white nails.

"I can make out with you for Christmas; other guys have liked that present."

Simon's heart nearly stops. 

"Excuse me?"

"I'm just kidding Si."

Just kidding .

***

She begs and pleads with him to please go out to the bar with her for the new year. He doesn't have to drink, she says, she can drink enough for the both of them. 

She does. She doesn't even make it until eleven.

He carries her home on his back. Her door is unlocked and wants to think about how dangerous that is, but all he can think about is her warm breath on his neck.

He drops her unceremoniously onto the couch - he thinks about carrying her to the bedroom, but that's one place the door has always been shut to. 

He does take her shoes off of her while she insists she can do that herself. He slips the right one off when the fireworks go off outside; the entire town is bathed in their light.

"Midnight," she says as Simon rises up on one knee in front of her, ready to tell her goodbye and good night.

She kisses him over the mask.

She doesn't mention it the next day.

***

By summer, Simon has the entire cafe portion of the store finished. He's embarrassed when she hangs a sign over the area: 'Simon's Spot'. 

"What?" She asks, peering down at him from the top of the ladder. "You built it."

***

He breaks during the summer. Billy calls him on a Tuesday, asking if he knows anything about air conditioning systems.

"You built the cafe, so I know you're handy."

He doesn't. But he can figure it out. 

After hours the bookstore is sweltering. Billy has the blinds pulled down in a futile attempt to keep out some of the heat and the setting sun. Her shirt, already cropped short, clings to her with sweat when she unlocks the front door for Simon. 

It takes him two hours but he figures it out. When it kicks on she looks up at him, one arm resting on his shoulder, and tells him he's her hero.

He makes it all the way to her apartment - the promise of something for dinner and a cold drink as for payment the ruse - before he does it. 

It's dark inside, dark enough that when he locks the door behind him, he slips his mask off. She turns to ask him something - he doesn't hear it; he's too busy kissing her, pushing her back against the kitchen cabinet. 

It's messy - the kissing - he can't remember the last time he kissed somebody like this - all teeth and tongue and need.

When they stumble into her room, he doesn't take his shirt off, and she doesn't ask why.

***

"Come visit me L.T.. Scotlands beautiful this time of year."

"I'll have to book two tickets Johnny; that's not cheap."

"Alright, you cheap bastard you can afford it."

[babydollmarauders]

Omg obsessed with the new au

Does Jack ever wear one of those baby carriers that you like strap on to you? Imagine him walking around home or the store with it on!

i also have no idea if this was just a general question or a blurb, so i’ll be doing both for this one as well!

but he 100% does! he mostly uses it at home because he doesn’t take el out by himself too often, but when he does it’s usually on a morning where he doesn’t have practice and he’s letting y/n sleep in. so he’ll wear the baby carrier and take her with him to go grab breakfast from a bakery or go to the store and whatnot. and he doesn’t try to get one of the “manly” ones, he just uses the baby pink one that y/n uses with el and he absolutely just flaunts it!

———

it’s not often that i don’t wake up to a crying baby. El has a messy sleep schedule, usually waking up at 7am crying for a feeding, and then falls back asleep until around 10:30am. which means i get to go back to sleep for a couple more hours.

Jack is usually gone by the time she actually wakes up for the day. morning skates and practices making sure he leaves around 10am at the latest. but every once in a while, he has an off day.

today is one of those days.

i wake up to a silent apartment. Jack is absent from our bed, El missing from her crib when i go to check on her, which lets me know that he has her.

stepping back out into the hallway, i pass Luke’s closed door, his snores passing the wood and reaching my ears, causing a chuckle to pass from my lips. i continue to the living room, finding it empty.

it’s at this time that i hear the front door open and shut, Jack stepping into my line of sight. he holds a to-go bag in one hand, the logo of our favorite bakery printed on the brown paper, and a drink holder in the other, three cups snug inside it. El is propped in the pink baby carrier in his chest, her little hand reaching up and playing with the stubble on her fathers face.

“hey love, when did you wake up?” Jack asks me, beelining for the kitchen. he stops for a quick second as he passes me, pressing a kiss to my lips before continuing his course to the kitchen and dropping the bag of pastries on the counter. he places the drink holder carefully on the counter beside it.

he smiles down at the 7 month old strapped to his chest, taking her hand from his jaw and bringing it to his lips to place a kiss to her tiny fingers.

“just a couple minutes ago.” i tell him, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “you got breakfast?”

“yep!” he pulls an old fashioned donut out of the bag and sets it on a napkin for me before pulling a cup out of the holder. “donut and an iced caramel macchiato.”

i step over to the counter taking the items from him and pulling him in for a kiss. it doesn’t take more than a second for a little hand to wiggle it’s way between our lips, grabbing at Jack’s and making us both laugh.

“oh, you don’t like when we do that?” i tease El, sticking my fingers down to lightly tickle her neck, successfully making giggles bubble out of her.

i step back, taking a sip of my coffee and just admiring the sight of Jack, our daughter attached to his chest as he goes about his morning.

“i actually got you three donuts.” my husband tells me, pulling two more pastries out of the bag and sticking them on a plate.

i grin, setting my drink and food on the counter and cupping his face.

“oh you love me.” i tease. “you really love me.”

“was that not clear when i, ya know, vowed my love to you last year?” he laughs, leaning to press another kiss to my lips, careful to not bump El against my chest.

“eh. that was a little hazy. but this? this, has banished any of my doubts.” i joke and he shakes his head, chuckling at my words. i let my hands drop from his face and he takes that chance to step back.

“should we go wake up uncle Luke?” Jack looks down at El. “let’s go wake him up. see how cranky he gets!”

i chuckle as i watch him walk down the hallway, whispering to the baby in the carrier on his chest, predicting how Luke will react at his wake up call.

[scoops-aboy86]

In which Eddie panics a bit, Wayne is a voice of reason, and Steve is really going through it but finds some relief in Eddie bringing him lunch.

Part 1, part 1.5, part 2, part 3, part 4 of the love spell no go au

Eddie does not, in fact, see Robin or Steve the next day. He holes up in his room for three days until Wayne drags him out by his ear, sits him down, and pries an explanation out of him because “do you know how many times that Harrington boy has called, knocked, and slid notes under the door trying to track you down? I’m surprised he hasn’t climbed in your damn window by now.”

He breaks and tells Wayne about the love spell and getting to know Steve. He walks his uncle through the entire strangled route of his logic and the thoughts he’s been stuck in his head with ever since the other day. 

And, okay, the whole prom scenario had been a completely theoretical product of his overactive and dramatic imagination, but something like that might have happened. Except if Eddie, instead of fucking up, had somehow cast it really, really strong… 

“That’s why he keeps calling, because of the spell,” Eddie concludes. “It makes sense, doesn’t it?” He desperately wants to hear that no, actually, he’s lost his marbles, no one can brute force a spell into being smart and biding it’s time like that. 

But Wayne sighs, somehow conveying both endless patience and weary amusement, and says, “Eddie, what have I always told you?”

“Uh… never tell anyone that magic is real?”

Wayne snorts. “That, sure, and that magic ain’t ever something outta nothing. Your daddy always thought he could make gold from thin air, never even tried spinning it outta straw, and look where it landed him.” Jail. Eddie winces. “The reason no one bothers with love spells much is they gotta have some potential to grab onto, so they fail more’n you’d think. Spell or not, Ed, there was always something there.”

By the end of the conversation, Wayne has more or less managed to hammer in the idea that maybe all the spell had done was keep them apart until they fit better. Eddie retreats to his room again, this time to brainstorm how to make up for the abrupt three day radio silence. 

Steve has had… a rough few days. If it hadn’t been for Wayne Munson assuring him that no, his nephew hadn’t disappeared like Will Byers or the Holland girl, just “got a bug up his ass about something and is still holed up in his room working on it,” he would have completely spiraled. As it was, he’d had trouble sleeping even before smoking through the last of his stash, on edge all the time, swimming laps at night because that feels better than doing nothing. 

So when he looks up at the jingle of the bell over the door and sees Eddie slink into Family Video, he’s torn between relief and upset. If Eddie is fine, and very obviously not eaten by monsters or kidnapped to an alternate dimension, then where the hell has he been? Why hadn’t he returned any of the messages Steve had left him? Is the return to jock tendencies that off-putting?

His eyes catch on the bag and cardboard carrier Eddie is carrying, laden with three paper cups from the nearest diner. The warm greasy smell hits him, and it’s been a long few days of wanting to stress eat but not letting himself. Steve’s mouth fills with saliva—just because he hasn’t had his lunch break yet.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asks flatly, since there’s no one else in the store right now. 

Eddie ducks his head. “Ye-eah, I deserve that.” He holds up the bag and drinks, tentatively meeting Steve’s gaze from under his bangs. “Brought you a peace offering?”

Steve breaths out sharply and runs a hand through his hair. He’d probably…Yeah, he’d probably been overthinking everything. Wound too tight, like Robin said. Not everything is a sign that the world is ending; Eddie had probably just been busy and knows that Steve is kind of needy, and brought him lunch as an apology. 

God, it smells like his usual order from before Starcourt. And Eddie is here now, perfectly fine except for the shadows under his eyes. What does Eddie have to be so worried about?

Get it together, Harrington. 

“Okay,” Steve says, not bothering to wonder if he can make whatever Eddie’s brought him fit into his diet—cheat days are a thing for a reason, right? “I’ll let Keith know I’m taking my break.”

Tilting his head to one side, Eddie is now close enough to set his offerings on the checkout counter. “No Robin today?”

“I wish. It’s her dad’s birthday, so she got roped into family stuff.”

“Hm.” He flicks at one of the straws poked through the top of the lid. “Looks like I brought one too many milkshakes then. Which is the more egregious sin, letting it go to waste or sharing it with Keith?”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “Second one. I’ll go punch out, meet me around back?”

A few minutes later they’re sitting across from each other at the table behind the little strip mall that houses Family Video and the arcade. It’s technically for anyone who works there, not just the video store, but it’s hot as balls out so there’s no competition for the spot. The first mouthful of milkshake is a welcome explosion of cold and rich chocolatey goodness in Steve’s mouth, and he hums approvingly. Holy shit, he’d forgotten how much he liked ice cream. 

“How’m I doing on the apology?” Eddie asks, starting to pull foil-wrapped burgers out of the greasy bag. 

“Pretty good, if one of those has cheese or bacon on it.” Steve accepts the one held out for him and unwrapping it to find both, and a second patty. He takes a big bite and hums in satisfaction, chewing for a moment and pleasantly aware that Eddie is watching him. As soon as his mouth is empty enough to speak, he says, “... Alright, you’re forgiven. Just answer your damn phone next time, man, okay? Let me know you’re still alive?”

“Sorry,” Eddie says, looking guilty. “Yeah, sorry, I will.” He nudges a large fries across the table, followed by several packets of ketchup. Eddie hates ketchup on fries, because he’s some sort of heathen, but doesn’t so much as comment when Steve squirts all of the packets down one side of the container for himself. “Didn’t mean to make you worry about me, Stevie, I just… got in my head about something.” 

Steve swallows a mixed bite of fries and burger, christ he’s hungry today. Must be the relief of knowing that Eddie is okay. “Anything I can help with?” he offers, because now that his ruffled feathers are soothed, he doesn’t like how tired his friend looks or the hint of melancholy that had flashed across his face at Steve’s requests. Eddie, who had looked at his bruises from Starcourt and visibly didn’t buy the government-concocted explanation for them but agreed not to ask, and thinks the source of his recent tension is from a few days of trauma rather than going on two years.

But also—Stevie? That’s new. Steve takes another big bite of his burger to hide how much the nickname makes him want to beam, that would be so weird given the current topic of conversation. 

“Nah,” Eddie says. He mimes knocking his fist against one temple, other hand tapping the underneath of the table to make a wooden sound. “Got it worked out now. I’m good.”

“Well, good.” Despite himself, Steve grins around his next bite of burger. He swallows, snags Eddie’s milkshake (strawberry) and then Robin’s (vanilla), following with a sip from his own—a poor man’s Neapolitan. “Want to come over tonight and finish that movie?”

A surprised look crosses Eddie’s face at the offer, followed by something else that Steve can’t read, and then a small grin of his own. “Sure, if you don’t mind starting it over. I’ve kinda forgotten the beginning.”

Which is fine, because Robin had insisted on finishing it (“You know I don’t do well with cliffhangers, Steve. Do you want me to not be able to fall asleep tonight trying to guess what happens next? Do you?”) and Steve isn’t sure he remembers where they paused it last time anyway. He’s pleased as he finishes his burger, licking the grease from his fingers and grabbing a bunch of fries positively dripping with ketchup, hurriedly getting them in his mouth before any can drop on his work clothes. Feels even better when Eddie chuckles and reaches across the table to wipe a smear of the condiment that had dripped down the side of his chin, almost making it to his work vest. The contact is nice, makes his heart beat faster. 

It doesn’t have to mean anything, but he wants it to.

Tag list (comment to be added): @hotluncheddie @8em-em-em8

Part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11

[takiberry]

𐙚ᝰ.ᐟ Coffee Breath : WY

⋆˚✿˖°☕️ ; the cute barista.

PREV : MASTERLIST : NEXT

written part below! ☕️

you walked inside the café , looking at the menu and deciding what to get. you felt a piece of paper get thrown at you before you could even say anything, your own two bestfriends behind the counter waved at you, big dumb smiles om their face. “really, taki?” you said with fake annoyance laced into your tone, the oreo haired boy just shrugged as if he hadn’t done anything before wiping some cups that were washed by harua not too long ago. . you typed in your notes app what to order for your three friends at the flower shop, before going to the counter. “nicholas!! can you get the customer , i’m kinda in a handful right now.” you heard a voice from behind the small window behind the counter, you heard a sigh and looked up from your phone , seeing a tall black haired man with glasses, boy was he dreamy. “welcome to sunshine café , how can i help you?” he said , his voice was so ? comforting ? perhaps it was just the morning getting to you but you couldn’t deny that he was infact attractive. you cleared your throat before ordering what you wanted and the drinks for your friends, he looked so stylish for someone working in a café despite only being in a white collared shirt and black slacks.

you mentally hit yourself as you paid for the drinks, you took a deep breathe before starting up a conversation with him. “so uh, how’s your morning so far?” you asked as you watched him make the drinks for you, taki helping out with the other two drinks, nicholas shrugged and glanced up at you from his glasses, you swore your heart nearly dropped from how insanely attractive that was. ‘y/n get it together you don’t even know the guy..’ your mind spoke as you shook off the thought before listening to nicholas speak. “”it’s alright so far, could be a little better though.” he said to you as his hands wiped up a small mess he had just made, you tilted your head slightly in curiousity. “oh yeah? why’s that?” you asked before nicholas spoke again, “well you have an ex girlfriend who refuses to leave you alone , i’m sure it’d be a rough morning for you too.” he said yet again as he put the caps on the drinks along with the little heart stoppers to keep them from spilling. “would you like a drink carrier?” he asked you, looking at you as he fixed his glasses, you could only nod in response as he grabbed a drink carrier, placing them in nicely before handing it over you.

your hands had made contact with one another for a brief second, causing you both to jump a bit from the action. nicholas scratched the back of his neck and gave you a small smile, waving at you. “thank you for coming, hope to see you again.” he said with his pretty smile, you smiled back at him, nicholas swore his heart jumped a bit, you had a pretty smile. “you’ll definitely be seeing me around more, see you around!” you said about to walk to the door before nicholas spoke. “wait, uh, what was your name..?” he asked as he did a double take seeing harua and taki walk over to you. “oh! my name’s y/n !” you said before smiling at him again, walking to the door as taki held it open for you. you, harua and taki walked outside together, you took a deep breath again, looking at your two bestfriends. harua spoke first, “you think he’s cute huh.” he said, you had jumped a bit from the sudden question, stumbling on your words a bit. “no! well.. maybe?” you said, taki fist bumped the air, a big smile on his face, harua face palmed himself at the other boy.

“might as well get his number next time, he IS single.” harua said yet again as he crossed his arms,taki nodded in agreement as he played with his apron a bit. “what if he thinks it’s weird?” you said as you checked the time, eyes widening a little. “oh fuck , we can talk later! i gotta go , bye guys!” you and the guys hugged before you jogged back to your car, getting in before leaving for work.

“get his number next time..? i just might..”

📝 ╰┈➤ tini notiez : yay we have officially started ! i hope you guys will enjoy this story, i am trying my very hardest to make sure to update whenever i can! <3

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 🐾 taglist ; @aceheexx @hyvelxve @soobiverse @luvnicho @i4kt @luvitria @jjungwonss @lovewonkiki @yuma-is-mine

[lau219]

Red Carpet

Part 2

Part 1 here

…………………………………………………………………………….

Thinking back, Lauren couldn’t even remember a time when they’d had an encounter where they didn’t go back and forth like the way they had earlier that night. Every interaction between her and Cillian was laced with mutual disdain and sarcastic quips. And while an onlooker may say that Cillian had been flirting with her, she knew that that wasn’t true. There was no secret desire behind his behavior, no heart of gold beneath the façade. No, he just wanted to torment her for his own sick pleasure.

She had no idea why he’d chosen her as his target. When their paths had first crossed a year and a half ago at the publicist’s agency, she’d only recently been hired, and she’d made an over-the-top effort to make a good impression. She was definitely starstruck at first, and as a lowly assistant to the assistant’s assistant, she did her best to blend in and keep her mouth shut.

It was early one morning that she’d first encountered him at the agency, balancing a drink carrier full of coffee in one hand and trying to silence the repeated text chimes coming from her phone in the other hand. While looking down at her phone, she hadn’t realized she’d taken a wrong turn, and she’d soon found herself in a labyrinth of hallways veering off in different directions.

“Crap!” she’d muttered quietly, looking around for anything that seemed familiar. Why weren’t there any signs on the walls in this damn place? Everything looked exactly the same, and she started to panic as her phone chimed again, knowing she was going to be late.

Her wrist began to shake with the heavy drink tray. Deciding to switch hands, she attempted to swap her phone and the tray to opposite hands, but the small device slipped from her fingers, falling to the floor and landing a few feet away. The stack of papers she’d had tucked under her arm fluttered in every direction as she’d reached out to try and catch the phone.

“Fuck!” she’d cursed before she could stop herself.

“Having problems?” came an accented voice.

Lauren looked up and was momentarily frozen in her spot. The wind had been sucked out of her lungs by a pair of the most gorgeous eyes she’d ever seen. As she pieced together the rest of him – which was just as breathtaking – she slowly realized she hadn’t answered him yet. He was staring at her with an expectant smile.

“Um, just, uh, dropped my phone,” she’d finally replied, “along with almost everything else.”

​He continued to smile at her.

​“I couldn’t help but overhear a few choice words from around the corner. Are you lost, sweetheart?” he’d said.

​Lauren had blushed, flattered at the pet name, still naïve enough to think it came from a place of endearment rather than mockery. If only she’d known how much she’d grow to hate it, coming from him.

​ “I’m sorry about that,” she apologized as she began to think clearly again. “I looked down for one second and now I have no idea where I am.”

​Before giving him time to respond, she’d lowered herself and knelt on the floor, carefully setting down the drink tray and then beginning to collect the papers all around her.

​“New around here, I take it?” he asked.

His voice and accent were sexy as hell.

​“Yes, I just started working as an assistant last week in Sharon Hamilton’s office.”

​Lauren felt him get closer as he knelt down near her and began helping her collect the papers. Geez, he smelled good, too.

​“Well, then you took a wrong turn at the elevators,” he said. He then reached out the papers he’d gathered to hand to her, making eye contact. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

​“Lauren,” she replied simply, her heart pounding as he looked at her.

​“Cillian,” he’d replied, proffering his own name. “Cillian Murphy.”

​“I know who you are,” she’d responded with a small nod and a shy smile.

​He smirked.

​“Well, I work with clients of Sharon’s often, so I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other. That is, if you don’t get lost again.”

​Lauren blushed once more, but her thoughts were cut short when her phone chimed again. Looking around, she spotted it near Cillian’s foot.

​“Do you mind?” she asked him, gesturing toward the phone. “I’m sure Sharon is wondering where the hell I am.”

​Cillian looked behind him and grabbed her phone, picking it up and glancing at the screen.

​“Not exactly,” he’d said as he’d passed it to her, a cheeky grin on his face as he rose to his feet.

Still kneeling, Lauren reached out and took the phone, the color draining from her face as she saw the message from her friend on the screen. It was a snapshot of two of her bras, with the message,

“Hey bestie, I found these at my place. How can you still wear these?! The pink one has a safety pin holding the strap on! Want me to toss them?”

If, in that moment, she could have gotten lost again and never been found, she’d have been content.

​Her face bright red, Lauren looked up at Cillian, who was still smiling amusedly. Speechless, she’d just stared at him.

​“See you around, bestie,” he’d said with a wink. He’d then walked past her and disappeared around the corner.

​That had been a year and a half ago, and Lauren soon found out just how accurate Cillian had been when he’d said he’d see her around. Although Sharon wasn’t his publicist, her clients ran in the same circles as Cillian did. That meant Lauren was often running into him, especially as she grew within her job and started having a more frequent presence at events and gatherings. And while her impression after their first encounter was that Cillian was friendly, she soon came to learn how drastically wrong she’d been.

The text message from her friend had been his original material, and he’d mercilessly teased her about wearing “thrift store underwear.” Early on, Lauren assumed he was harmless, and that the teasing would soon ease up. Instead, he just came up with something new to torment her about, and she could count on a heckling from him almost every time they found themselves in the same place together.

Over time, as he saw how much it flustered her, he began adding the sexual innuendo. But she knew it couldn’t possibly stem from any actual interest on his part – the man could have any woman he wanted. As a bit more time passed and she knew what to expect, Lauren started dishing it back. As he wasn’t a client of Sharon’s, and since no one even really knew who she was anyway, she didn’t have to worry about getting in trouble for talking back to him. And if Cillian had any intention of getting her fired, he would have done it already. But no, he frankly seemed to enjoy it all.

Lauren rolled her eyes as she thought about it, letting out a sigh. But then, she remembered the way he’d cornered her that evening, and she could almost feel again the touch of his finger on her body, the sound of his voice in her ear. A shiver ran through her. She couldn’t deny that, despite his behavior toward her, she still found him unbelievably sexy. There were times, such as tonight, when she thought she’d melt under his gaze, and if he wasn’t such an ass, she’d more than willingly let him do to her any number of things that he’d mockingly suggested.

But, in the end, that’s what he was – an ass.

What a waste, she thought.

Part 3

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #28] Avoidance

warnings: a lil dry hump !! neck kisses!! undeserved!!, dates with other people!! waaa!!! this entire section of bd always hurts my heart lol

wc: 10k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

When Jimin opens the apartment door at quarter past four on Sunday afternoon, he's stuck for words. Dressed down in a pair of jeans and a simple white shirt, it's not hard to see how he gets anyone he wants. It's curious to think of what could have been had you just had a little more chemistry. Irrelevant, though. Not worth thinking about.

"Someone's looking chirpy today," he hums as he invites you in without a second thought.

Hair down, glitter on, and wearing far too few layers for the weather, you're smiling. Paper bag in one hand, coffee carrier in the other, the only thing that seems out of place is... well... your happiness.

Jimin will never complain about it, but he knows that Jeongguk monumentally fucked up less than 36 hours ago. You should not look this elated.

"Should I not be?" you reply, seemingly ignorant to the turmoil Jeongguk feels like he's putting you through.

You're just as much a product of your relationship traumas as Jeongguk is of his. Knowing him the way that you do - as intimately as you do - you know that he's done something he shouldn't have. He's fucked up. Though you're not aware of exactly what he's done, nor to what extent it will hurt you, you know that it will .

When you knock on his door and don't wait for him to answer it, instead walking straight on in, his wrongdoings are written all over his face.

Eyes wide, lips pouty, hair a mess as it waves around his features, he hadn't been expecting you.

Leaving him on read was childish, you'll admit to that, but you just didn't wanna give him straight answers. Petty? Maybe. Deserved? Definitely.

"Hello," you greet with far more pep in your step than he expects. "Oh, you look like shit."

He grimaces. "Hey, Byeol."

"I'm not staying, don't worry, just came to drop you off some fuel," you smile, setting the coffee and paper bag down beside him. "An americano, double shot -" you nod towards the drink "- and a protein bowl from the poke place near your gym. Figured you wouldn't have eaten properly today."

He hates that you're correct.

"You look nice," he says, because apparently that's relevant. "And thanks."

"Good," you say instead of thank you. "I wasn't trying to look horrible."

Jeongguk just smiles. Nods. So much he wants to say, and yet-

"Will you stay for a bit?"

You're so pretty, Jeongguk thinks, when you shake your head, glitter catching in the light, hair waving ever so delicately. He is incredibly conflicted. Knows that you don't look at your friends in the way he's looking at you, nibbling down on his bottom lip, stars in his eyes.

And then he remembers what he did. Shame flushes his face, the torrent so heavy that he has to look away. The pressure of such a wave renders him unable to catch his breath - until your hands are on his shoulders and your legs are parting over his.

The way you straddle his lap and sink into such comfort on the tops of his thighs is unlike anything he's ever known. You melt into him like softened butter on warm bread, and he thinks it's where you belong.

"You've gotta study," you tell him quietly, as if you're not deliberately trying to get him a little riled up. You're not even sure why you're doing it. You're never normally this forward with him unless there's a bird involved - and yet you wanna prove to yourself that you are still wanted, even if he does want someone else a little more. It's pathetic, and you know it - but old habits die hard. You've got Seokjin to thank for these behaviours. "When's the exam? Tuesday, right?"

He nods, stroking the tops of your thighs, before looping his arms behind your back. There's no calculation to his movements. They come naturally, like the contraction of his lungs, or his laughter whenever you ask him questions that can easily be googled.

It's so easy, he thinks, being with you. Easiest thing in the world. Doesn't know how he sought out comfort before he knew you. Wonders if he was ever truly comfortable.

"Tuesday," he replies, as you toy with the hair around the nape of his neck.

The lighting in his room is low, like it so often is. Just makes you wish for Tuesday to come quicker.

"Will we celebrate?" you ask. "Your freedom?"

"It's a Tuesday," he simply shrugs. "Everyone will have work the next day."

You won't. You booked Wednesday off a few weeks ago in preparation for his exam. Hadn't told him, 'cause he was stressed at the time. Still is, but seems to be coping a hell of a lot better than he was before.

Or perhaps it's just something else consuming him, instead. Or someone.

And so with this in mind, you don't tell him.

"Well," you consider out loud. "You should still celebrate. Have a nice meal, or something."

It's unsubtle, the way Jeongguk's eyes drop to your lips when you say this.

"Not like that," you scold.

He feigns innocence, but his cheeky grin gives him away. "Don't know what you're talking about."

It would be easy to let old habits make themselves just as comfortable as you are on Jeongguk's lap - but he did something silly, you think. Has lessons to learn.

Gripping his cheeks, squishing his grin into a less-than-pretty pout, you get a little closer. Smirk.

"I'm not on your menu, Gguk. Too expensive."

He wants to scowl at this, but you've still got his cheeks pinched between your thumb and fingers. His brows furrow, but the expression can't take hold of his face. Instead, his sweet front teeth are on full display, and you're giggling.

It's music to his ears, but he doesn't let it show. Wants to keep you like this.

Instead of indulging him, you loosen your grip. Push him back a little as you do so, and he just lets you. Just like he lets you get up off his lap, his hands around your back dropping with little to no resistance.

He lets you leave, 'cause he'll never force you to stay. Your own free will is more important than his own selfish desires.

"Byeol, about yester-" Jeongguk begins but is cut off by the shake of your head. You don't wanna hear his excuses for his bad decisions. Don't even wanna know what they were. Tell him as such.

"Don't."

Part of you thinks you should stay silent, but the rest of you doesn't want to play games. Within the parameters of your entanglement with Jeongguk, he's not really done anything wrong. Your rules have always regarded yourselves, not other people. Whatever he did wasn't great, but it wasn't wrong .

Or at least, that's how you'll rationalise it to yourself.

"I don't want to know," you say.

He frowns. It's your past experiences with Seokjin that have wired you this way, and it frustrates him that he's being tarred with the same brush.

"Honestly," you continue, sensing his slight annoyance. He's not annoyed at you, not in the slightest. Is just annoyed by the entire situation, but never at you. "You and me... we're not together, but we are friends. We care about each other, yeah?"

He nods. Swallows. Cares so much.

The way you're dancing around the point is childish, but the conversation is awkward, whether or not you want it to be. It's part of the reason why you don't want to discuss things fully with him. Makes you feel all uneasy. Nervous. You hate nerves just as much as he does.

"Okay, and you wouldn't do anything that hurts me, no?" You ask, letting the final syllables linger a little hopefully in the air. Jeongguk doesn't understand what you mean by this. The confusion is written all over his face. It makes you smile. Cute, you think. "Not like... emotionally. That's not what I mean. I mean as in, you wouldn't... y'know... you wouldn't fuck someone else and then fuck me straight after, right? 'Cause, like, we don't use condoms, Gguk. If you got somethin-"

He vehemently shakes his head. "No."

Wouldn't dream of fucking anyone else unprotected. Wouldn't dream of fucking anyone else, full stop, but that's neither here nor there.

"God, no." He doubles down. Can't believe you'd think so little of him, but he's not a saint. Knows he's done some questionable shit since Hayun's return. Lost his head a little bit and fears he might have lost you along the way, too. "But B, I-"

"But nothing," you say defiantly. Are convinced that not knowing is for the best. "As long as I know I'm safe, that's all I need to know."

What you don't know surely can't hurt you.

"Byeol-"

"Please, Jeongguk. Don't," you sigh, and then try out a little honesty. "I had to talk myself down from going off at you, like, three times yesterday. I don't wanna fight with you."

"Why?" He frowns. "Why talk yourself down?"

"Because I'll get over my hurt feelings," you shrug. "Always do. You only have one shot at this exam, and I don't want you wasting time you could be studying on trying to fix shit that doesn't even need fixing."

And I lied when I said you aren't my first priority.

"You only wanna tell me to clear your conscience. Whatever happened, happened. It's nothing either of us can change now, is it? Hmm?" you hum tenderly as you stroke his hair behind his ears. There's a soft pain behind Jeongguk's eyes as he looks at you. It's sort of devastating in a way; self-inflicted and yet he's not entirely to blame.

You're good at pushing your feelings aside. Had done it so many times for Seokjin, that it comes as second nature. Jeongguk never wants you to feel that your hurt isn't important. Knows that this is fucked up beyond belief, but doesn't know how to fix it.

"Can I say something?" He asks, because he doesn't wanna start just for you to cut him off. Also doesn't wanna subject you to information that you aren't willing to hear.

"I don't want to know what happened," you say. "It won't change anything."

Will still adore you.

Jeongguk nods a little remorsefully. Decides that it's better if he just keeps his mouth shut.

He just wanted you to know how much he regrets the chain of events that led him to your place on that night, but also knows that it comes dangerously close to a confirmation of the truth. The truth is exactly what you've asked him to withhold, so he keeps his mouth shut.

With a small sigh, Jeongguk holds one of his hands out for you to take.

Against your better judgement, you reciprocate. Let him pull you closer, again. Back to his lap. Back where you belong.

"You need to revise."

Yet you let yourself indulge in the feeling of having him beneath you, his strong thighs the perfect seat for you to perch upon.

It's so much nicer to pretend like things are still okay - so for just a moment, you will.

"Can't focus," he mumbles as your nails begin to lightly scratch his throat. Small murmurs of satisfaction echo from his throat, his eyes closing in a state of pure ecstasy. You have this way of making things feel okay, even when they're not. "Goin' outta my mind, B."

He flicks across his lips with his tongue, wetting them ever so slightly, toying with the perfect silver ring in the corner of his mouth. Sometimes when you look at Jeongguk, you're overcome by the overwhelming desire to kiss him. Slowly, gently. Just to feel the pressure of his lip ring against your plump bottom lip, and his thin yet pouty lips trapping yours between his.

Jeongguk doesn't deserve kisses.

He doesn't deserve you on his lap, doesn't deserve the respite you're offering him, doesn't deserve to feel so good when he behaved so badly over the weekend.

Yet you think he's deserving of the world; of everything good it has to offer him. You don't really hold yourself in such high regard. Think that maybe he deserves more. Are pretty certain he sought out more. Sought out her.

It shouldn't bother you in the way that it does. You're just friends.

But he's your best friend, and you feel insecure in your place as his. You want him to like you more. Value you more.

Hayun has something you can never compete with: history.

Right now, though, you have the present. It's the one thing she can't interfere with, unless she were to show up at his door.

Your nails scratch up his throat and sink into the thick wavy hair at the nape of his neck. Pull him back a little. His eyes stay shut. A small grunt escapes his lips. His dewy nose and wet lips are illuminated in his signature cosmic mood lamp, but his skin is pristine; no traces of anyone else.

No claims to him from anyone else's lips.

"Focus on me, instead," you whisper as Jeongguk is suffocated by everything you are; the scent of your hair, the languid movement of your body hiking up his thighs, the pressure of your lips against the base of his throat.

One of his hands grips your waist, while the other clutches your hair. He encourages your movements. Wants you even further up his lap. Doesn't want even a millimetre of space between your bodies. "Fuck."

Pressing dainty kisses up his neck, you know that if you really wanna get him excited, you'll need to be using your tongue. You will. Just not yet. Want him so keen for you he could cry. Don't wanna give him what he wants easily.

Truthfully, Jeongguk just wants you in any capacity he can get you. His brain is blank, switched off to everything but the weight of your body on his, and how euphoric it feels.

"Byeol," he whines, as you start to work your tongue against his throat. You'd wanted to hold off, but can't stop yourself. Just want him to feel good. Wanna be the reason he feels good. Want him to associate you with all of the good and none of the bad.

It's a desperate act; once that's thinly veiled and oh-so-obvious to everyone except you both. Jeongguk's head is so empty when your lips are on his skin that it's a miracle he's even able to grip your waist tighter and drag you further up his lap.

"Mhmm?" You hum out, questioning the call of a name you're called only by him. "You focused, Koo?"

The way he groans when you call him Koo is unrestrained. His grip in your hair intensifies. He pulls you back. Chest heaving, eyes wide and watery, his lips hang ajar as he holds your gaze.

He swallows. Nods. "Focused."

Lips pouty and a little swollen from all the kisses pressed against his throat, you smile. It's clear as anything that Jeongguk wants more. You don't want his desire to fade.

"Good," you say ambivalently. So good at feigning indifference, it's hard for him to work out what fuck is going on inside your head, these days. It's his own fault. Keeps overthinking. He knows you like the back of his hand, and needs to learn to trust his instincts a little more. Right now, they're telling him that you're just fucking with him - and they're right. You're deliberately riling him up. It's proven when you pull away, and get off his lap once more, ignoring the fact your underwear is now uncomfortably wet.

It's not your fault that the way he grips you so intently makes you feel secure and safe. He cultivates a sanctuary with his touch. You trust him.

Which is more than you ever did with Seokjin.

Yet the impact of him lingers in how you carry yourself; how you feel the need to keep Jeongguk interested in you, as if he doesn't care about more than just your body.

"Now use that newly focused mind of yours to study," you hum, a light smile lingering on your laissez-faire lips.

There's a slight sheen to his neck where your lips have been; evidence of his overindulgence in one of the finest delicacies he's ever had the luxury of experiencing. His skin is unblemished, save for one incredibly pale pink mark where you'd let your teeth sink a little into his skin. You don't imagine it will hold any permanence. Sort of regret not leaving a more significant mark.

"Oh noooo," he pouts, his faux disappointment just as endearing as he is. "I'm unfocused again."

"Again?" you laugh.

He nods. "Think I need your help."

Predictable, is Jeon Jeongguk, as he holds his hand out for you, again .

Predictable, are you, as you let him draw you closer, again .

Predictable languid hips grinding against his predictably hard lap, again .

He groans, again . Your lips vibrate against him, again . You both get a little breathless, again .

Again, and again, and again.

It's stupid, and it's desperate, and you know it - but Jeongguk likes the desperation. Likes someone wanting him as badly as you seem to do, now. Makes him feel less alone in his unreciprocated feelings.

Sex always fools him into thinking certain things mean more than they actually do. He's aware of the fatally flawed thought process, but he likes the way it feels too much to stop himself from acting on it.

"You're so good at that, B," he groans as your lips dapple his neck in the dreamiest of kisses. Tongue, teeth, lips, he wants it all. Doesn't stop you when you get a little more territorial. Knows you're probably leaving marks. Just holds you tighter. Hisses. Moans. "Just like that."

Nails scratching against his scalp, pretty posies blossoming on his neck, Jeongguk is in fucking ecstasy. The friction of your bodies together, even fully clothed, gets him excited to the point of nearly spilling over. His kisses can only reach your jaw, the angle a little off, and it frustrates him to no avail.

"Let me fuck you," he begs, hips pushing up as his grip on your waist encourages your grinding against him.

Your tongue trails up his neck, and flicks over the lobe of his ear. Makes him shudder. Whine. He fucking loves it. Teeth grazing on it, he knows you're smiling, enjoying every second of his weakness.

"You wanna fuck me, huh?" you tease. It's nice knowing that you're still desired. You want more confirmation. More validation. "Why?"

"Is that even a fucking question?" He rasps as two wildly different responses come to mind. He'll go for the safer of the two options. "Can feel how wet you are even through our clothes, B. Let me help you. Let me fuck you. I'll make you feel good. You know I will."

"Oh, so all for my benefit, eh?" you tease once more. "Not for yours at all?"

He rolls his eyes. Considers the response he didn't say.

You're the only thing that makes sense to me, these days. You make me feel safe. Calm. You're the only thing. Only one.

Will never admit it, though.

"Fuck me and find out," he smirks back. "See how quickly I'll cum. Then you'll know how much I want you, too."

"Don't think you'll last a minute," you taunt.

"Don't think I'll last thirty seconds, B," he admits. Is kinda joking, but also totally not. "Think I'll nut as soon as I'm inside you. Love your cunt. Always feels so good."

"Mhmm, just what every girl wants to hear," you say, voice laced with sarcasm.

"What can I say?" He plays up to your humour. "I'm an old-school romantic."

"I'm pretty sure that's how Prince Charming won over Cinderella," you say, all very agreeably. Will chatter absolute nonsense with Jeongguk just for the sake of it whenever you can. You enjoy it. So does he.

"What, by telling her she has a lovely cunt?"

"No, don't be vulgar," you giggle, then put on a deadly serious face. Back straight, voice stoic, you're incredibly poised. Don't even crack a smile as you say, "By nutting in her after, like, ten seconds."

"Ah of course," he grins.

"Every girl loves an underperformer."

Incorrect. If you did, you'd be in Jimin's room right now.

"Maybe I should just flunk my exam then," he jokes a little mindlessly.

"You want every girl to love you, eh?"

You're pretty certain every girl within a 5-metre radius of Jeongguk could fall in love with him. It'd be easy. Incredibly easy.

"No," Jeongguk speaks a little more solemnly now. "One's enough."

And just like that you're reminded of Hayun.

Tilting your head to the side, you're fond as you look at him. Hurts your heart a little bit that still, even now, he's devoted to her. To be loved by Jeongguk must be heavenly. Unwavering. What you wouldn't give to have someone adore you like he does her.

Ruffling his hair, you let the tension between you both crumble away. "You're such a softie."

Just like that, the moment is gone. Jeongguk purses his lips together. Shrugs. Doesn't really know what to say. Just confirms that his feelings always ruin things.

"Shut up," he smiles, but it's not as sincere as it usually is.

You study his face and let your thumbs stroke over the flushed pink marks that linger on his neck. The dainty chain around his neck hides beneath his shirt, just like you're sure the evidence of you will do too in days to come. You've never seen him in a polo-neck, but are certain you will soon.

Hidden away, the impact of you will remain a secret. Just like Seokjin hiding your conditioner in his bathroom cabinet before one of his many girls paid him a visit, Jeongguk will most likely pretend your lips have never been on his skin.

But why should anyone know about his sex life? It's no one's business. It's not like you actively want him to parade the marks left by you, it's just that you want anyone getting too close to know his bed is still warm even if he's not spoken for.

Totally not because you want Hayun knowing. Totally not that at all.

"I should let you get back to studying."

Jeongguk is silent. Nods. Doesn't stop you when you get off his lap. Just spins to face his desk once more.

"Eat your food," you remind him. "And drink your coffee. You'll thank me for it."

He nods again. "Already am thankful. I appreciate it, B."

"So don't let it go to waste," you lightly rib him. "Look after yourself, okay? Only a few more days and then you'll be free."

"Just a few more days," he agrees with a small smile.

"You're gonna smash it."

He shakes his head. Laughs softly. "You think too much of me."

"You think too little of yourself, Gguk," you say a little sternly. "No one ever succeeded by thinking they would fail - so do your revision, smash your exam, and then we can forget all about it, okay?"

The way you group yourself in with him is unintentional, but a clear indicator of the way you feel about Jeongguk. The things that bother him, bother you too. His troubles are your troubles. His successes, your successes.

Just goes with the territory.

Territory of what?

You silence your brain. Don't let it expand. It's a foolish thing to think. Stupid, and untrue, and detrimental to your friendship.

And so you leave him be. Had only ever intended on briefly stopping by. Had never meant to let things get so heated. Was a little silly to let things get so wildly out of control, when you'd planned to drop him off some food and a coffee just to let him know how much of a saint you are in comparison to the Devil in red he seems to prefer.

You wonder if she knows about his exam. Probably not.

The scornful nature of your thoughts whenever Hayun is at the forefront of your mind always leaves you feeling a little disgusted with yourself. Even when Seokjin was getting a little greedy with the cookie jar, you never berated the other women. Just yourself, for not being good enough.

You suppose the circumstances were far different, though. Hayun's proven herself to be awful to you, even if she plays nicely for Jeongguk.

He's wise in so many regards, but so naive in others. Maybe one day he'll realise. Maybe not.

"Hey," you say to Jimin quietly as you enter their kitchen, and nod towards their bin. "I think you need to take the recycling out."

He doesn't. It's barely half-full.

Twisting his handsome face in a little confusion, Jimin says nothing. Uses his facial expression to say ' huh ?'.

You shake your head. Mouth 'just do it' as if you're a Nike brand ambassador.

"Oh," Jimin says, still confused, but playing along. "Yeah. You're right. Let me take the trash out."

He follows behind you as you leave, a small bag of clear plastic in his hands, ready to be tossed on the trash pile outside their apartment block.

Quiet until the elevator doors shut, Jimin finds everything about your visit today curious. In fact, he tells you so almost immediately.

"You're acting weird, DB," he hums, as if that isn't a usual occurrence for you.

"Weird isn't bad," you tell him.

He agrees, but also thinks it's not the point. "Never said it was."

"I need your help with something," you shrug, knowing that he's probably already figured as such. "What are you doing tomorrow evening?"

Jimin doesn't reply immediately. He's watching the elevator tick down; feeling the motion beneath his feet. Knows he's plummeting but doesn't fear it. Has never been one to scare easily, and yet he's apprehensive of your question. He knows Jeongguk hurt you, and that he'll deserve whatever is coming to him, but he also doesn't want Jeongguk to suffer. Not again.

He fears that your attempts to heal yourself will hurt Jeongguk, and as much as he thinks it would be valid and reasonable, he doesn't want his best friend to go through pain like he did before.

"Look, DB, I know things with Gguk are rough-"

"They're fine," you interrupt, because you think they really are. Nobody can gaslight you better than yourself.

"There's no point in lying to me," Jimin laughs at your interjection. "I've seen you both naked. I know the pair of you better than you know yourselves."

"Please can we not talk about us fornicating."

"Please can you never refer to sex as fornicating?"

"Yeah," you grimace. "Fair enough."

"Anyways, beyond the point," Jimin continues without missing a beat. Had mini conversations with you in his head while you were in Jeongguk's room.  Already has it all planned out. "I knew you were fucking. Have known for months that there's been some weird little thing going on between you two, so don't bother even trying to lie, DB."

"Well what do you want me to say?" You sigh, leaning against the elevator wall. You're defeated in your posture, the weight of your Jeongguk-related uncertainty taking its toll.

"You don't have to say anything, " Jimin says. "You have to listen."

"Go on..."

"I know he's an idiot," he starts as the elevator dings and rattles open on the ground floor. Both of you walk a little slowly through the lobby, Jimin setting the pace. He's got important things to say, after all. "You don't need to tell me how much of one he is, I already know. Have lived with him for long enough. Thing is, his heart is always in the right place even if his head isn't. The shit he went through with Hayun really took a toll on him."

You nod, but don't interrupt.

"I see a lot more than he realises. I know the warning signs. I worry that what you have going on..." he pauses. Isn't sure how to phrase it. Sucks a little air between his teeth. There's no way he can be dainty about what he's gonna say, so instead, he just throws caution to the wind. "Look, you and I are both fine with fucking around. Hookups without hang-ups. Gguk... Gguk isn't wired that way-"

"Jimin."

"Uh-uh," he shakes his head. "Said you gotta listen."

"Sorry."

He doesn't say 'forgiven'. Now isn't the time for jokes.

"I know you're nothing like her," he adds, just in case that's what you were thinking. "I wouldn't be so honest with you about this all if I thought you were. I know you really care for him, so I'm asking you as a friend to take a step back and look at this all objectively. If you guys keep hooking up when he's not in a place to be making good choices, it'll-"

"We aren't hooking up anymore," you say quietly, as if it's a secret. Kind of is. Jeongguk doesn't know this yet. "I haven't spoken about it with him yet, but I know something happened with Hayun - which is totally fine, he can do whatever he likes-"

"Is it?"

"Yep," you lie.

"What happened with Hayun?" Jimin asks. Doesn't wanna let on that he knows. As much as he considers you his friend, his loyalties lie with Jeongguk. You expect nothing less.

"Dunno," you shrug, surprised that Jimin doesn't seem to know, but not thinking to ask. If anything, you feel bad for sharing Jeongguk's dirty laundry. "Asked him not to tell me. Ignorance is bliss, right? And with his exam and everything, I just don't wanna be causing fights, y'know? My anger can wait."

"You shouldn't have to withhold your feelings like that."

"I know that - but like you said. I care for him. He's one of my closest friends, Jimin. The sex... was just a dumb way to pass the time when it started," you lie, not wanting to disclose the real nature of your hook-ups with Jeongguk. "I'd still be annoyed about Hayun even if we weren't hooking up, purely for the fact she's a grade-A grated ballsack, and that he even gives her the time of day drives me insane."

Jimin snorts a little. "Grade-A grated ballsack. Haven't heard that one before."

"Tell me I'm wrong," you grin as you stand far closer to the neighbourhood trash pile than is really desirable. "Anyways, I called you down here for a reason."

"Which is...?"

"What are you doing on Tuesday evening?"

---

Jeongguk sits at his examination desk, leg jittering nervously as his heel taps against the floor.

Weeks of revision have led to this point, and yet all he can do is think of you; of how your eyes will light up when he tells you about the questions he aces, and the contemplative thought you'll give when trying to figure out the harder ones he relays to you.

He thinks about your enthusiasm, and how he knows you'll give him the warmest of hugs to celebrate his accomplishments.

He thinks of his kitchen, and how he knows there's a small gift bag addressed to him with a 'DO NOT OPEN UNTIL AFTER YOUR EXAM!!!' warning label on the front of it written in sparkly gel pen. There's a few stickers on there, too. Some stars, and a Kuromi for good measure.

He'll wait until you inevitably come to his place that evening to open it. Knows you gift with intent, and that whatever it is will be perfect.

Jeongguk is, to a certain extent, overcompensating; thinking about you as if you put the stars in the sky. It's like he's trying to make up for the time he spent thinking of you as an earthly being. He knows it couldn't be further from the case, now.

It's romantic, the way angels seem to sing and wind apparently blows in your hair, whenever he thinks of you.

He's letting himself do that, now; letting you be more than a friend, in his head. His heart, too. Isn't brave enough to tell you, yet, mind you. Will indulge in his fantasies a little longer.

Or at least until the curt whistle of an alarm bell, and the rustle of students opening up their exam papers, tears him from them. Picking up his pencil, Jeongguk, for once in his life, has a clear mind. A clear goal. A two-step plan.

1: Ace his exam.

2: See you.

Pencil to paper, he begins to scribble away. One more hour. That's all it will take.

Sixty minutes, and then he'll be on his way to see you.

Sixty minutes, and he'll be heading home.

Not necessarily to his. Just to wherever you are.

'Cause he knows.

Jeongguk knows how he feels.

Is as confident in his feelings as he is in the answer to the first question. The second one, too. 

He's got this.

Got his head in the right place.

Got thoughts of you sitting peacefully in his peripherals while he accesses the revision he's been tucking away over the past few weeks.

Got everything he needs in his brain, and a few specks of your glitter still on his skin to keep him company.

It sparkles in the light that pours in through the examination hall windows - just like the iridescent letters of the banners Jimin is putting up in their living room.

"Like this?" He asks you as he tacks the edge just behind the canvas of your tits that you know Jeongguk really needs to take down before someone works it out. If anyone were to guess, it'd be Jimin, you think. Part of you worries that Taehyung will mention it at some point this evening, and that the truth will unravel while you're not there to cover it all up.

"Like that," you smile, looking at the letters glistening in the mid-afternoon light.

The bunting is simple, just something you put together at work during your downtime - silver text on black paper triangles, reading 'hope u didn't fail :)' . In the kitchen, a small tank of helium hisses as it fills balloons that Taehyung and Danbi are taking turns tying up.

"You didn't do this for my last exam," Danbi pouts a little at all the effort you're going to for Jeongguk.

"Because I threw you parties for both times you failed your driver's test," you remind her. "Didn't wanna throw a third just in case you failed again."

"Third time lucky," she says. "Everyone knows that. You should have had more faith in me."

"And you shouldn't have almost ran over a school kid on your first attempt!"

Danbi hums in mild agreement. "S'pose you're right."

"Sorry, you did what?!" Taehyung almost chokes on the balloon he's manually blowing up.

" Almost !" Danbi exclaims back. " Almost ran over a school kid. Didn't actually do it. Swerved," she smiles, pleased with herself.

You choose not to add in the fact she swerved into a fence and had to pay for repairs to the test car - but you will warn Taehyung against ever giving her his car keys at a later date.

Chatter takes hold of the apartment once more, music humming from the speakers as you prepare the room for Jeongguk's arrival home.

This is the reason you had called Jimin down to the trash pile a few days ago. Heavily aware of the fact Jeongguk seemed to think none of his friends would be making an effort to celebrate his milestone, you wanted him to be reminded of how loved and appreciated he really is.

Just because Jeongguk hasn't felt your wrath over what you assume happened with Hayun doesn't mean you didn't have any. While stewing in your feelings, you'd chosen to make alternative plans on the evening of his exam.

Wish you hadn't now, but it's a consequence of his actions.

"Sure you can't stay?" Jimin asks quietly as it all begins to come together. Their living room looks fit for a party, and it makes you sad you won't be able to experience it with them all.

Nodding, you hide your regret well. "Can't cancel on my plans."

Jimin frowns slightly. "I think you can."

You know that you can.

It'll only take a single text - and yet you don't want to. Petty when wronged, you know you didn't have to make plans for this evening. You only kept it free in the first place for Jeongguk - but now you're filling it with someone else, because it's exactly what he did in your absence.

It's deserved, you think, and yet you also think he deserves the world.

You can't give him that, though.

Jimin was right. You're not made for the kind of thing Jeongguk is.

You used to be. Would be nice to think that you could be like that again one day, but you're just not ready yet. It's not fair for you to withhold Jeongguk from the kind of affection that he craves so deeply. He's made to be adored. Made of stardust. Made for you to have, but not for you to keep.

It's selfish of you to prevent him from having what he deserves. You're a hindrance to his life, you think.

Funny, really, how wrong you are.

Across town he's scribbling down notes on a hypothetical glitter brand and how they would strategize promotional events for a new product launch. Knows more about cosmetics branding than he ever did before he met you, due to the fact he's never met someone so susceptible to cute marketing and branding as you.

The second you see something a little glittery, you have to have it. Will moan about being a slave to capitalism each and every time, but won't stop yourself from making the purchase, and then saying some bullshit about serotonin afterwards.

Even now, you're helping him; giving him answers to a 25-mark question that he knows he would have stared at for a good five minutes had he not been distracted by your glitter.

You're not a hindrance. Thoughts about you don't negatively impact him. Not at all.

As you leave his apartment block, you worry that you've made a mistake by organising a surprise celebration for him. Worry that maybe he'll just want to go home and crash after his exam. Worry that he'll be annoyed with it.

Still, you won't have to deal with it if he is. You won't be there. You'll be downtown in a crowded room, sitting across from a man who is so handsome you're not actually sure he exists.

If you hadn't already met Seojoon, you'd have assumed he was a catfish. No man looks that good, is that tall, carries himself with that much charm, without having something to hide.

And yet in all the messages he's sent over the past few days, there's been no red flags. He's got a good sense of humour, and isn't too over-keen in his texts, but also makes it clear that he wants to see you. Doesn't care when you take a while to reply, and also doesn't put his life on hold just to reply to you.

His flags are as green as the sky is blue - but pollution is bad today. The sky is grey.

Much like the truth of your feelings for Jeongguk, the horizon is hidden. It'll remain this way until the next storm passes through.

The weather forecasters don't seem to have one predicted for a little while yet, mind you.

And so Jeongguk walks home with a smile on his face, ignorant of the pollution clouding up the sky. No text pings through from you, but he doesn't mind. You've been more concerned about his exam than anyone else, so if you're away from your phone, it's for good reason.

He tries his best to ignore the irritated feeling beneath his ribs that something is amiss. He's no stranger to the sensation, but it always makes him overthink.

Is something more important? You know when his exam was due to finish. Don't you care? Aren't you going to ask him how it went?

A small sliver of his brain indulges in a 'what if' scenario: what if you're already waiting at his place to surprise him? To congratulate him?

In all honesty, his head's been so frazzled recently that all he really wants to do is sleep, but he also doesn't really wanna think about his bed if you're not in it. Doesn't wanna fuck - too tired for that - just wants your company. No change to usual, really.

It's curious how when you first met, it was the 'what ifs ' of who you are - who you could be - that intrigued Jeongguk.

He knows exactly who you are now, and it only makes him like the scenarios he imagines up even more.

Thing is, real life always seems to be better than his imagination.

It's why he's walking with a stupid grin plastered all over his face; why he's got a little bound in step as he goes. He can't wait to get home.

And it's also why the destination isn't important. Home could be the art studio. Could be his bedroom. Could be yours.

All that matters is that you'll be there.

He decides to play it safe, and heads in the direction of his apartment block, 'cause he knows better than to show up at yours unannounced. Sends through a text - I'm FREEEEEEEE!! - when he's going up the elevator to his place. Smiles so brightly he might cause a power outage. Can finally relax.

Funnily enough, your posture is anything but relaxed as your phone buzzes on the coffee table in front of you.

Downtown at an over-priced, under-decorated excuse of an artisan coffee house, you're cursing yourself for not putting your phone on silent.

"Oh, don't ignore it on my behalf," Seojoon smiles as he sits opposite you, dressed in a casual but clean hoodie and a pair of slacks. He's got just the right balance of comfort and style, putting him right at home in such a pretentious little joint - not that he's pretentious, just that he's got the kind of face that wouldn't look out of place on a billboard or in a high-fashion magazine.

"It's probably just your friends making sure you're safe," he adds. "Please let them know I'm not a creep."

You smile and roll your eyes. "You met a few of them already, remember? They know you aren't."

"Sending pick-up lines at a pocha doesn't exactly scream 'not a creep', does it?" He cringes, twiddling with the paper wrapper of his drinks straw. Nerves, it would seem, affect even the most forward of men.

"Maybe not," you tease in good humour. "But your friends did say you save cats from trees at the weekend, and I'm hoping that turns out to be true."

Holding out the hand that isn't messing with his wrapper, Seojoon proudly displays a small pink scratch on the top of his hand. It's no bigger than a penny, but it's almost identical to the scratches you often see on Yoongi's hands, thanks to Oduun.

"Wait," you laugh, a little confused but incredibly bemused. "There's no way..."

"Yeah, I can't lie," he laughs too. Wanted to play up to the joke, but can't fib to save his life. "Just caught my hand on a sharp edge at work."

It's endearing, the way he broke into honesty almost immediately. You'd have kept it up for at least a good five minutes, if not the whole date, if you were him. Would have really laid it on thick. Kind of like when you and Jeongguk tell stupid lies and just keep them going because you find it funny.

But it's Seojoon you're finding funny now, and banish all thoughts of your friend. Your friend who you feel friendly towards. Friend , who wouldn't want you thinking about him on a date.

"You almost had me there," you tell him. "Could have fooled me all night."

"Best not to start things with a bare-faced lie," he shrugs, a soft smile on his boyish lips. He's sincere, and you like that. Think that he's got a good head on those broad shoulders of his.

"Okay then," you challenge him. "Tell me about your work. How'd you actually scratch your hand?"

"Funny story," he says as he leans forward to take a sip on his coffee. "So there was a cat stuck in a tree-"

"Oh, give over," you laugh and so does he.

There's a comfortable nature to your conversation. Seojoon is as easygoing as his smile is bright. You're in a crowded room, but there are no distractions from him. None that exist outside of your brain, at least.

"Okay, okay, that was another lie," he admits, as if he needs to. "Sorry. Nah, I'm a mechanical engineer. Been relocated to a new plant for a few months, so was doing site inspections of the workplace. Nothing major, or exciting."

"Yeah, you're right," you deadpan. "The story could have used more cats."

"I knew it!" Seojoon laughs. "Shouldda just lied. While we're on the subject, though - cat or dog person?"

And just like that, he's back in your head again. Quite unwelcome, too.

Dogs. She loves dogs.

The sound of Jeongguk's voice in the entryway of the Min's home echoes in your mind. It's a fond memory. Left such a mark on your soul that you can almost feel the weight of his hands squeezing your shoulders.

Those same hands - the ones you know so intimately - are squeezing down on the handle of his front door, now. He thinks nothing of the silence on the other side of the door. Assumes Jimin is out. Tosses his bag down and kicks off his shoes. Lets out a sigh so large that it's a miracle his lungs have any air left in them.

Rounding the corner from the entryway and into the kitchen Jeongguk is surprised to see the countertop covered in things - but doesn't get enough time to even squeak out a little confusion before the overhead lights flood the room, and all his friends are jumping out from behind furniture.

A chorus of 'surprise' echoes around the room, with the occasional cheer. There are smiles, and waving hands - even a little confetti.

And yet Jeongguk notices almost immediately: there's no glitter.

Well, there is. It's on the banner hanging above the television. 'Hope u didn't fail :)'. Your handwriting.

But there aren't any stars. That's what's missing. You.

He doesn't get a chance to dwell on it, for the boys are bundling around him, scratching at his head, lightly tussling with him in the way that boys so often do. It's as affectionate as they'll get - but they know they have to be on the best behaviour tonight. Gotta make sure Jeongguk has fun. You gave them strict orders. Danbi and Seoyeon will be keeping an eye on them to make sure it happens.

As they watch on with soft smiles, Seoyeon sighs. "She should be here."

Danbi just nods. "I know."

But she also knows there's no way in hell you're gonna be spending an extended period of time in a confined space with Hayun - especially not if Jeongguk is around. It's been proven to you that he's holding her in the top spot, still. His actions have spoken louder than words.

So you had made sure to let her know she was very much invited. Sent her the invite yourself. Even told her that you wouldn't be there, to make sure there was nothing stopping her - though you doubt it would have regardless. She came back into your lives like a fucking steamroller. It's a miracle she hasn't flattened the life out of you entirely.

Jeongguk is so directed by the lack of glitter that he doesn't notice the glaring red flag straight ahead of him.

But she notices the ones in front of her.

Everyone does.

Except they're not red. They're pink and purple.

And they're on his neck.

"Fucking hell," Yoongi laughs as he prods at them. Jeongguk bats him away, cringing, scrunching his shoulders up in an attempt to hide his neck. Had forgotten all about them. Had sat in his fucking exam hall with hickeys on show. Thank fuck he never has to return - or at least not until graduation.

"Stop," Jeongguk whines. "It's just a bruise."

Jimin laughs like a cartoon character, now. Nearly falls off the barstool he's perched upon. Knows exactly who gave Jeongguk those hickeys and while he may not think the pair of you hooking up is a good idea, he loves that Hayun is getting a taste of her own medicine.

"Christ," Seoyeon whispers. "Do you think it was..."

"I don't have a clue," Danbi whispers right back. Hopes it was. Thinks you'll kind of be a bit gutted if Jeongguk is seeing someone else. You don't go to all this effort for someone you don't adore, after all - even if you are on a date with someone else.

Perhaps it would be hypocritical if you were to be saddened by it - but Danbi also knows that this date could have been scheduled at any time. Didn't have to be today. Maybe you are avoiding him. Maybe the hickeys on his neck are the reason why.

Danbi frowns as she watches the boys rib Jeongguk over the state of his neck. Hates that Hayun had little to no reaction. Can't work out if she's to blame or not.

In a way, she kind of was. Had it not been for Jeongguk getting all caught up on her, you never would have given them to him.

And as your phone buzzes while Seojoon is in the bathroom, with a message from Danbi that is literally just thirteen question marks and the words 'was it you?' , you know exactly what she's asking.

You leave it unread. Will tell her tomorrow, or something.

What a pickle you're in.

Giving Jeongguk hickeys probably wasn't the best idea you've ever had. Going on a date when in such a muddle over your feelings also probably is a bad decision. Not being with Jeongguk to celebrate his achievements? Probably the worst of all.

You feel like a shitty friend.

When Seojoon returns, you feel like a shitty date. Your mind is only semi-present. He deserves a little more than what you're able to give. It's always been a problem, ever since Seokjin. Thought that maybe you'd done enough with Jeongguk to get over these doubts and insecurities, but they eat up you. Tell you that Seojoon is having a miserable time, even if he's quite literally laughing at the jokes you're making. Your demons are cruel, and careless. They don't care if hurting you could hurt other people, too.

And so even though Seojoon does everything right - is the perfect gentleman - you insist on catching a cab at the end of the night instead of letting him walk you home.

You just don't like the expectations that come with something like that. Don't wanna have to kiss someone. Don't wanna fuck them, either.

You're just not ready.

A failure, still.

Companionship, and the desire to have it, feels like the most human of traits. It's around you constantly. At work, you're forever confronted by happy couples. In clubs, walking down the street, wedged between Jeongguk and Jimin during hangover The Notebook viewing parties. Love and the romantic ideals that come with it are everywhere, except for within you.

You consider replying to Danbi eventually, the quiet of your apartment especially lonesome, when you're feeling so down, but you don't want to drag her away from the party.

In your head, your friends will all be having a whale of a time.

In reality? They are.

But they're also all too drunk and invested in a game of Cards Against Humanity to notice Jeongguk slipping out. He just needs some air, or at least that's what he tells himself. Texts Jimin so that he won't worry. Doesn't give specifics. Just says he needed to clear his head.

Somehow, in pursuit of peace, Jeongguk ends up at your door.

He texts first before he knocks, thinking it's best to give you a little warning, but doesn't realise 5 seconds isn't a large enough buffer time.

There's CCTV right outside your door in the hallway, so you never worry too much about random knocks late at night. You assume Danbi's just forgotten to door code in her drunken haze, or something dumb like that.

Sleepily pulling your door open, it takes you a second to register who you're looking at. Dark hair hidden by a pale beanie to protect his ears from the harsh winter winds, you've never seen him look so sweet.

In the murky darkness of your apartment hallway - the overhead lights still out - Jeongguk's eyes seem to sparkle a little.

But of course they do.

He's looking at you: his disco ball personified. It doesn't really seem like you've got much of a party in you tonight, though. You've taken your glitter off already. There are only rogue specks on your skin, now.

The shirt you're wearing - one that finishes midway down your thighs - isn't one of Jeongguk's. He doesn't like the way this makes him feel. You have plenty of his shirts, 'cause you're a little klepto every time you leave his place. Must have half his t-shirt collection within your possession, at this point. If he were to ever make an issue of it, you'd just argue back that there's a handful of your bras at his place. He tucks them away in the back of his top drawer for safekeeping, never intending on becoming their owner. He just doesn't want Jimin to see them, and then forgets that they're even there.

There is one that he likes a little more than the others, though. He doesn't forget about it, for he keeps tucked beneath his pillow when you aren't at his.

First finding its way beneath his pillow accidentally, after a fuck that neither of you bothered getting fully undressed for, it kind of became at home in his bed. Even when he changes his sheets, he tosses the underwear back down before he puts his pillows in place. Will never tell you how he sometimes holds it close on the nights he misses you. Just smells like your perfume. He likes it. That's all.

Should have realised that missing you throughout the night was the first warning sign of his developing feelings. Regrets not becoming aware of it sooner.

Wonders if maybe you'd be wearing his shirt now, instead.

His eyes drop to the floor as his lips part, a little unsure of what to say. In his head, and in the silly little thoughts that he'd indulged in on the way over, you'd have opened the door with a great big smile on your face.

You just look a little shocked, instead, he thinks. Shakes his head subtly. Goes to speak, but his lips can't form words.

"My best friend," he eventually says and looks up at you once more. "She missed my surprise party."

There's a forlorn nature to his gaze; crestfallen.

You could be petty. Say something about Hayun.

And yet you can't bring yourself to. Not now.

"She did at least throw you a surprise party," you offer a little sheepishly.

He nods. Takes a second to formulate a reply, and then finally says, "Can I come in?"

You give him no verbal response; just hold the door a little further open.

He welcomes himself in, shoes left by your door, feet padding across the living room and into the sanctuary of your bedroom. Watching as he goes, you can't help but think your apartment is far more lovely with the addition of a Virgo. Feels much more like a home should. You're not sure if that will make sense to anyone but you. Will blame your feelings on the stars because it's far more convenient than attributing them to a man.

But he's your best friend. Of course he feels like home to you. It's only natural.

Just like your room feels like a safe place for him. Just like he doesn't feel the need to ask permission to take off his shirt and kick his trousers across to the chair which houses your clothes pile (or working-wardrobe, as you like to call it). Just like the way gets into your bed and shuffles over to your side, only to find it feels wrong, so he shuffles back to his own side.

You have those, now.

Sides. Toothbrushes in each other's bathrooms. Hairbands on desks and unused bar wristbands on bedside tables. Pockets emptied at the end of the night; uncarefully re-stuffed in the morning, for there's always the promise of a return. Nothing left in your room will ever be lost to him. Not really.

Foolishly, he hopes that maybe your heart could be included in that, too.

In his room, there's a stain of black paint on his white walls, his handprint a forever memory. A mark just as potent is on his heart. Your handprint, this time. Secure around his most vital of organs. Keeping him safe. Keeping him hostage. Or just simply, keeping him.

"Don't remember saying you could stay," you sigh with a thinly-veiled adoration as you lean against your doorframe, arms folded.

"What's mine is yours," he simply huffs into your sheets. They smell like your shampoo. His tummy feels all funny.

"We're not married."

"Maybe we should be," he continues pouting. "Tax benefits."

"Y'know it's not a bad idea if we're short on cash," you suppose. "Invite everyone we know and request cash instead of gifts."

Jeongguk smiles. God, he missed you tonight. "She's a schemer."

"Lucky you," you tease back. "Your bride is a money maker."

He's just joking. You know it. Also know he has a marriage pact with Hayun, so know that there's no permanence that comes with dating Jeongguk. Would always just end up shafted to the side in favour of her.

"The brains and the brawn," he says with a tender smile as you clamber over him and into your bed. He's got his arm hooked around your waist before you've even managed to shuffle into a comfy position - but big spoon Jeongguk is always comfy. He's stroppy when he says, "don't like your shirt."

He's such a baby. Rolling your eyes, it makes you smile. "We've both got brains. You're our revision extraordinaire. And what's wrong with my shirt? I like it."

It's nothing special. Just a big dark shirt from a skate shop down by the coast. You've no idea of the brand, just knew you liked the design.

Most importantly?

It's yours. Not some other dudes, like you're guessing Jeongguk thinks it is.

"Think the revision melted my brain," he admits, then shrugs, holding you a little closer. "Just don't like the shirt."

It's a lie. He really likes it.

Just hates that it might be Seokjin's.

You sort of figure as much. Won't tell him otherwise. Will let him sweat it out for a bit.

"You feel better? Now the exam is done?" You ask earnestly, not entertaining the shirt discussion any further. You aren't taking it off.

"Just wanna sleep, if I'm being honest," he says softly. "Wanted to see you after the exam, but also just wanted to sleep."

"Shit," you grimace, feeling a little guilty about the party. "I did think of that, but not until after I'd arranged it all. Sorry you couldn't sleep."

He shrugs. "It was nice. Was fun. And anyways, I can sleep now."

Jeongguk wants to ask where you were tonight. Doesn't want to know the answer.

"I never gave you permission to stay." You remind him.

He frowns. You're being argumentative, and while he normally enjoys it, all he wants is comfort, now. Is pouty, when he asks, "Can I?"

There's a lot that you and Jeongguk need to discuss. So much to talk about. For now, though, you'll let it slide one final time.

"Yeah. You can."

You'll lament your choices in the morning. Berate yourself for not telling him to sling his hook.

You'll be unaware of the life that could have unfolded if you had told him to leave; be none the wiser of the shame and embarrassment that would come with your rejection of his need to be with you. If you could see your futures, you'd thank your present self for picking this path. For picking him.

Because even though you don't think you have , you will. Again and again, you'll pick Jeongguk, because it's what the stars intend.

For now, the stars will watch on and smile. Some may even shoot through the sky, begging for you both to wish upon them.

Fruitless endeavours. You're both asleep within fifteen minutes of his arrival. Safe. Secure.

Stupidly besotted.

Painfully oblivious. 

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

[tgmsunmontue]

SunMonTue's TG and TG:M MASTER LIST

This post is linked from the pinned post of WIPS, and kept up to date. Fic title links to AO3, hashtag links to the first tumblr post/chapter for the fic (which also have the photos etc which I often leave off AO3 unless critical).

If there is no AO3 link, that's because it isn't on AO3 yet. (It starts posting on AO3 when it's finished, or within one chapter of being finished).

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Bradley is a professor but living his best life with IceMav parents. Jake is a pilot. Maverick sort-of tries (and fails) to play matchmaker, so he tries again. Touch of epistolary and sprinkling of one-sided unknown/mistaken-identity. #It's all academic darlin'

It's not who you know Mature ~13k Hangster

Low-angst Nepo!Baby Bradley and his four years at the USNA and his head-in-the-sand approach to the nepotism and the fact that he ends up being known as the guy with the two hot dads instead... #It's not who you know

Jake's Cakes Teen+ ~2k Hangster

MeetCute. Iceman has tasked Bradley with organising Maverick's 60th birthday cake. This goes as planned until Mav decides to be a gremlin. #Jake's Cakes

Life is too short to waste time matching socks Explicit WIP Hangster

Also features Bob/Javy/Nat - set post mission with the Dagger Squad having been made a permanent squad. #Life is too short to waste time matching socks

Lonely Nights Explicit ~11k Hangster

Set in 2009, Bradley is ~27 and Jake is ~23. They're both on leave, out in a gay club and looking to hook up. This is a PWP and sits in the longer Sagas of Solitude Series. (A Nepo!Baby-Bradley AU where Bradley went to the USNA and has a better relationship with Maverick, however DADT has not yet been repealed.) #Lonely Nights

Mercury & Manganese Teen+ ~2k Hangster

An AU MeetUgly (where I failed to meet the assignment as it feels too soft, nice and gentle to really be a MeetUgly? Maybe?). No one is in the Navy. This centres around chefs and restaurants and drinks, but it's all very background. Background established IceMav. #Mercury and Manganese

More than movie magic... Explicit ~25k Hangster

Jake is a Hollywood actor and Bradley is a stunt coordinator. Jake's about to make a few self-discoveries. So is Bradley. #More than movie magic...

Online and Anonymous Explicit WIP Hangster

Years before they meet in person Bradley and Jake strike up a friends-with-benefits relationship online. And then something more like an actual relationship. Epistolary fic set in a world where papers were pulled and events of TGM will take place and DADT exists until it is repealed at the end of 2011. #Online and Anonymous

Saga of Solitude Explicit WIP Hangster and IceMav

Nepo!Baby Bradley and his life at USNA. DADT fully in force. Hangster AU. #Saga of Solitude

Take more chances, dance more dances Explicit ~13k Hangster

Meet!Cute with Jake as the best man at Natasha and Javy's wedding and Bradley is the instructor teaching them how to dance... Very slight whiffs of Cyclone/Mav and Javy/Nat/Bob if you're looking. #Take more chances, dance more dances

Team Player Explicit ~7k Hangster

Jake's cousin plays for the Sydney Roosters and gifts him with merchandise. Regularly. Bradley has an unexpected realization. #Team Player

The Roost Teen+ ~2k Hangster

Hangster AU MeetCute. The Dagger Squadron have put Jake in charge of organizing a cake for Mav's 60th birthday and retirement celebration. Little does he know he's about to ask Mav's son to make it. #The Roost

Where do I know you from? Mature ~11k Hangster

Hangster crackfic (that matures into not!crackfic). There are too many Jakes and Bradleys for Jake and Bradley to be dealing with. Or the Universe is just as fed up with them being blind. #where do I know you from?

With our pets, a house becomes our home Explicit ~5k Hangster

Jake adopts a puppy and then proceeds to fly across the country to take up a flight instructor position at Corpus Christi where Bradley is the vet (DVM) that Jake takes Brisket to once he arrives. Bradley asks him out. MeetCute. #With our pets, a house becomes our home

You need to learn how to fall Explicit ~17k Hangster

Bradley keeps growing past the 6'5" limit of being a naval aviator, Maverick lets out an internal sigh of relief. He's not going to be the one responsible for stopping Bradley from becoming a pilot. However, because karma is a cruel mistress, Bradley becomes a sky diver, specialising in spin recovery. Mav will never understand why his godson continually jumps out of perfectly good planes. Later Bradley's level of skill is such that he becomes a civilian contractor to the Airforce and Navy to teach pilots how to survive parachute spins from ejections. The Airforce contact Bradley first, it annoys Ice to no end. #You need to learn how to fall

OTHER

He remembers... Teen+ ~1k IceMav + Bradley slice-of-life

An AU set just before Bradley enters the USNA (so ~2001?). 18 year-old Bradley remembers key points and people in his life. Prologue of Saga of Solitude. #He Remembers

Life is too short to waste time matching socks Explicit WIP Bob/Javy/Nat

Also features Hangster - set post mission with the Dagger Squad having been made a permanent squad. #Life is too short to waste time matching socks

Once Upon a Time in 1996... Explicit ~25k IceMav

Maverick wakes up to a great day. Then it all turns to shit. #Once Upon a Time in 1996...

Together or not at all... General ~2k Javy/Nat

The evolution of Javy and Natasha's relationship as viewed from the outside. Mostly. #Together or not at all...