#pasted it and sent without checking and then lay my head down on the desk and wheezed

[subsequentibis]

fucked up the singular april fool's day prank i tried to play

[sunflowerwinds]

bite it | v.a

summary: you and vi have decided that maybe each others company wasn’t the worst thing in the world. but you lay down some ground rules that you can’t help but break when you get pent up.

prev. part -> try it | next part -> lick it, spit it

pairing: fem!cheerleader!reader x soccer player!vi

contains: modern!au, mature content (MEN & MINORS DNI 18+) — fingering (r! & vi!recieving), oral (vi! & r! recieving), tit-sucking (r!recieving), possesive!vi (if you squint & reader if you squint harder), shower sex, kind of exhibitionism (they’re in the showers in a locker room so it’s open).

word count: 3.9K

a/n: SUPRISE!!!! let’s all pretend that i was supposed to post this over two weeks ago. okay? okay. THANK YOU TO MY VAL, MY GOLDEN GIRL @valeisaslut for editing this for me. ily 4ever <3 ENJOY HORNY FREAKS!!!

You and Vi came to an agreement.

If you were going to be fucking while you were partners for this project, there has to be ground rules. Mostly so that Caitlyn wouldn’t find out about it.

One: Only fuck during your ‘work’ time a.k.a your breaks to avoid being seen around campus together.

Two: Do not tell anyone about this as word spreads insanely fast. You two didn’t need your teammates finding out.

Two easy and simple rules that shouldn’t be hard to not break. Well, at least, that’s what you thought.

For the past two days, you had been feeling an abnormal amount of horniness; an aching feeling that can only be described as animalistic. You zoned out during practice and almost got kicked in the nose.

When Caitlyn asked you what’s wrong with you recently, you gave her a short response.

“I’m just stressed about classes,” you responded as you chug your bottle of water as during your break.

Being the absolute angel she was, she offered a quick solution. “Oh, we could study together down in the library on our free days. I’ve got Monday afternoons open.”

The guilt hit at that moment: reminding you of what she didn’t know and how terrible of a friend you’re being to her.

You couldn’t go five seconds without thinking of Vi’s tongue tracing over your clit or her abs pressed up against your back when she finger-fucks you from behind or the way her hands would tighten on your skin with such a natural dominance.

Then the daunting realization washes over you when you check your period calendar.

It’s ovulation week. And you aren’t going to see Vi for another three fucking days.

You tried to get off on your own but your hands and vibrator aren't good enough. Nothing feels as good as her as much as you hate to admit it.

You suck in a deep breath as you attempt to focus on one of your other courses but your mind desperately lingers to the last photo you remember Vi sending you just yesterday.

Being the absolute pain in your ass that she is, she sent you a photo of her ‘injury’ on her stomach on the toned skin that had been scraped from tripping over the ball when it had been passed to her without her realizing. Her hand had held up her jersey to reveal the miniscule spot of redness, the band of her black sports bra peeking from the top of the photo and the waistband of her briefs from the bottom.

Fucking tease, you had thought as you had texted her back immediately to put her shirt down as you couldn’t bare for her to know how you touched yourself to the sight of it ten minutes later.

You shake your head with harsh blinks as you click your pen on your notebook page rapidly to attempt to shush your arousing thoughts, taking in long stabilizing breaths.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

You’ve been sleeping with this girl for two weeks now and she’s making you feel like you’re slowly losing your sanity.

Should you–

No. No, you agreed. Only your Wednesdays with her.

But maybe she won’t mind one time. Just once, you try to convince yourself that you aren’t acting feral.

You grab your phone from next to your laptop on your desk, opening your messages with Vi to type something and send it before you can take it back.

You | come over, please?

You watch as the bubbles pop up for a moment, anxiously tapping your fingers on the desk. Your phone buzzes in your hand to show her response.

Violet | wow a please? did someone steal your phone?

You | you’re an ass

Violet | that’s not what you were saying last week when you sat on my face

Your face heats up at the memory of her sloppy noises underneath you as your hands gripped tightly to your headboard and her strong forearms holding you down by your trembling thighs on her face.

Fuck, that isn’t helping.

You | well, is that a no?

Violet | as much as i’d love to, i got practice rn.

Violet | but it ends in 30. i’ll hit the showers then head on over, gorgeous.

Part of you wants to just leave it there; ignore her and stand on your ground to yourself on having the patience you claimed to have. But, the more feverish part of you wants to run down to the field and take her right there in front of everyone.

Wait. Why couldn’t you just go down there?

You type on your phone's keyboard screen, setting it aside out of nerves.

You | i’ll come to you. wait in the showers for me

You resume your studying as if you hadn’t just sent that message, your leg bouncing out of anticipation. Hearing the soft buzz of her response coming through five minutes later, you snatch your phone and hold the screen up to your face.

Violet liked your message

Violet | will do, baby ;)

Desperation gains a whole new definition as you wait around the corner, watching as the last of Vi’s soccer team leaves the locker room, but not seeing her come out. So she can listen every once in a while and not be a stubborn pain.

You place a hand on the cold door, pushing it open with a grunt at the weight of it. The moment it was open, you could faintly hear the sound of a shower running towards the back.

Without further thought, you make your way past the tall blue lockers to enter the showers.

“Vi?” You call out, the echo of your voice filling the area.

The sudden squeak of a handle makes you wince before you hear the sound of a shower curtain being tossed open.

“Down here!” She calls back before resuming the water.

You suck in a deep breath to mentally prepare yourself to see Vi, following the sound of her voice, finding yourself standing in front of the only shut curtain amongst the others that were empty. You curse mentally at the sight of her silhouette, shaking your head.

“Are you just gonna stand there or come on in, gorgeous? I don’t bite.” Vi teases through the curtain, a soft chuckle leaving her. “Much.”

You roll your eyes before stripping yourself of the minimal clothing you had on, ignoring how your underwear had stuck to your sopping cunt. You simply set them down on the bench before gripping onto the flimsy plastic of the shower curtain, tugging it back with a harsh screech.

And god, you couldn’t suppress the moan that left your throat the second your eyes landed on Vi.

The steamy water from the shower head trickles down her delectably toned body, highlighting every ridge of her ribs and abs. Her back tattoo glistens in a way that nearly had you dropping to your knees to lick every line of ink. You truly couldn’t tell how much time passed of you gawking at her until you heard her clear her throat.

“Did you ask to come down here just to stare at me, princess? I mean I don’t mind but…” She trails off as her cocky expression somehow grows wider.

You blink as you lock eyes with her, stepping more into the shower so that the scorching water runs down your own bare body.

“Shut up,” you groan, placing your hands on her chest and pushing her up against the cold yellow tile.

Vi’s eyes, for a moment, widen at your eagerness before she smirks down at you. You don’t give her not even one second to say a smart-ass comment as you press your lips to hers with assertion, cupping either side of her neck to keep her steady. You moan into her mouth as her hands find their way to your ass, gripping the flesh with just as much desperation. Your tongue swipes over her bottom lip, humming as she sucks on your tongue with a soft moan.

You press your hips flush against her lower half, almost grinding into her for any sort of relief. Your clit pulses with need as Vi’s left pointer and middle finger tease at your slit from behind as her right hand holds one cheek open for easier access.

“You want my fingers, baby?” Vi mutters as she nibbles at your bottom lip then trailing down to the nape of your neck.

You whine as you nod against her, wrapping your arms around her neck to keep her somehow even closer to you.

“But,” you gasp as she captures one of your nipples into her mouth, distracting your train of thought. “I-I want to taste you first.”

Vi halts her movements for a moment, taken aback by your words. She pants softly against your skin as her hands grip your waist for a moment. You knew you weren’t as experienced with women but, somehow, the mere thought of getting a taste of her sparked that impulse in you.

“...If you’ll let me.” You add for reassurance, a hand cradling the back of her head as she’s still latched to your boob.

The red haired girl slowly releases your hard nipple from her lips, not before making sure to lick over it once more and standing upright. A ghost of a smile lingers on her lips, the water falling past her face in a cinematic light.

“Get on your knees, gorgeous.” She mutters as her hands follow up your body, as if trying to memorize every inch of you, before stopping to settle on your shoulders.

Her grips tightens slightly, doing as you're told, knees digging into the round drain over and jagged title. Your eyes are immediately hit by the streams of water as you attempt to look up at Vi, cursing at the feeling.

“Shit, sorry,” Vi reaches a hand up to maneuver the mounted neck so that it wouldn’t bother you too much.

You can’t help but feel your heart tighten at the simple yet gentle gesture, but still try to push it as quickly as the feeling comes. You wave her off with a chuckle, brushing your hair out of your face as you realize that your face is right in front of Vi’s crotch. Her bush has you salivating as you lean forward.

You press a kiss just below her belly button, her stomach visibly tightening at the feeling of your lips against her skin. Your hands settle on the thick meat of her muscular thighs as you trail the kisses down her v-line to her aching clit. It’s a hot red, calling for you to cool it down.

Finally, your arm hooks underneath her thigh to lift her leg. She gets the hint and rests her thigh over your shoulder, cursing when you lick that first long stripe over her puffy cunt. She gasps softly, her hips bucking into your face, chasing your tongue with a desperate libido.

“O-oh,” a broken soft moan leaves her lips.

Soaking in the encouragement, you continue your eager motions at her slit. You, shamelessly, moan into her cunt from the sole taste of her.

You can't help but think of what you had been missing out on. Was this why Vi would ravish you and ‘could never get enough of you’?

The addicting musky scent that lingers on your tongue along with the sound of her attempting to shield her noises sparks a flame in you even stronger. Your eyes lock on hers as you suck her clit, humming when she jerks her hips against your face. Your ego shoots through the roof as she lifts one of her toned arms to cover her eyes, her mouth falling open to prettily pant into the steamy shower space.

Her abs tighten as her grinding hips follow your tongue eagerly.

What you would give to have this image imprinted in your mind forever.

Sure, Vi would moan and groan softly into your mouth when she fucked you until you couldn’t hear your own thoughts. But these sounds? The quiet begging and endearing whimpers? Oh, they are driving you insane.

You’re relentless with your tongue along her slit as her breathing picks up, signaling you that she’s getting close. Your arm keeps her thigh up on your shoulder as the thick muscle tightens and threatens to fall back to the ground.

“Fuck, fuck, oh, just like that, baby,” she praises through stuttered whines.

You moan against her clit as you raise your free hand to her cunt, teasing the tip of your pointer and middle through the folds. Vi nods rapidly the second she feels your fingers, pushing her hips against your face.

You gently and gradually slide your fingers into her, making sure to not be too rough with her. She grinds down to follow the new feeling, eager to chase her orgasm that you’re pulling out of her. You curl your fingers as you continue to lick and suck on the sensitive bud.

Vi’s moans are growing higher in pitch, her jaw going slack. Keeping your pace with your tongue and eager fingers, you watch as her flushed face contorts, gripping onto your head to shove your face into her cunt harshly.

You weren’t complaining, that's for damn sure.

You feel her thigh shaking on your shoulder as she finally cums, coating your fingers, the warmth dribbling down your hand. You pull away from her clit but slow down your movements, eager to taste her arousal. Her knees buckle as she chases the orgasm, harsh pants leaving her lips as she attempts to recover.

“Well, fuck, princess,” she says with a shaky chuckle.

You peer up at her from your kneeled position, placing a few soft kisses on her clit teasingly. You hold back a cheeky smirk as she bucks her hips before standing on wobbly knees. Vi takes notice of this as her hands land on your waist to keep you upright, tugging you against her as she captures your lips into a hungry kiss.

Teeth clanking and loud panting fill your ears as you pull away slightly to raise the hand that was inside of her, holding up your two fingers to her red bitten lips. She stares at you with blown out pupils, greedily letting you wipe her own cum in her mouth.

“You taste good, huh?” You mutter with a hum.

Vi groans as she licks her lips to show you she agrees.

“Up against the wall and spread your legs for me,” she instructs as she places harsh kisses to your neck all the way down to your tits.

Usually, you would scold her about marking you up, but that lust blinded part of you wants to shamelessly show them off. So you simply do as you're told, licking over your own lips to remind yourself what you just did. Your back hits the cold tile as the shower water is running lukewarm at this point, no longer steaming up the confined space.

Vi’s teeth bare as she bites at your collarbone, digging her canines into your hot skin. You moan softly as her hand travels down to in between your spread legs to feel your slit with her middle and ring finger.

“Fuck, eating my pussy got you all wet for me, baby?” Vi questions.

You nod as you look at her with nothing but desire.

“I—fuck—needed you,” you admit with a soft whimper.

Vi’s baby blues lock on yours as her smile grows eagerly. You press your lips to hers to attempt to conceal that giddy grin (and the fact that her eye contact alone made your heart skip in an alarming way).

She chuckles, sliding her middle finger into you, messily making out with you as you wanted. Her tongue glides over your own as she easily slides in her ring finger next.

You shiver at the stretch as your arms wrap around her shoulders to keep her close. Her tits press against your own as she continues her sloppy kisses, beginning to pump her fingers into your needy cunt. She detaches her lips from your own to watch your furrowed brows and heavy eyes threatening to shut from the titillating feeling.

“So fuckin’ greedy, baby. What happened to only Wednesday’s, huh?” She teases.

You would snip back but you only moan when she asks the taunting question.

The two of you freeze at the sound of the heavy locker room door opening and shutting with an echoing rumble. Rushed footsteps follow along with low curses of annoyance.

The silence that comes over the two of you is deafening.

“Damn, Vi, you still here?” This person, who you assume is one of her teammates, calls out to the girl who has her fingers inside of you.

Vi stares at you with an eyebrow raise, holding her free hand up to press her pointer finger on her lips. You roll your eyes at her cocky smirk but hold your breath as you listen to the footsteps echoing around the locker room.

“Yeah. I’ll be out soon.” Vi calls back as she continues to pump her fingers in and out of you.

“Well, I think I left my phone here. Did you see it?”

Still, you'd be lying if you said the thought of almost getting caught doesn’t thrill you, just a little.

Your body is the one to give that away for you, clenching around her lengthy fingers, and meeting her eyes. Vi mouths a shush that only makes you want to release the moans itching at your throat even more.

The sound of lockers opening and closing and shuffling of clothes are reminders that you can’t make a sound.

“Did you check the field or the bleachers?” Vi calls out to her teammate as she continues her feverish pumps.

“Shit, you’re probably right.” The teammate mutters to herself as she slams her locker shut.

Vi curls her fingers to meet your g-spot, a sudden moan slipping from your lips at the overwhelming pressure, but she quickly uses her free hand to cover your mouth, your hips stuttering to chase her fingers.

You whine at the way her natural dominance took over in that moment.

“Stay quiet for me, gorgeous. She’s almost gone,” Vi whispers in your ear with a gentle kiss to your cheek.

You huff as you feel your stomach tighten, your orgasm begging to release.

“Vi, did you say something?”

The red haired girl grins at you before calling back: “No. Good luck with finding your phone.”

A beat of excruciatingly long silence passes.

“Alright. Uh, yeah, thanks. Don’t take too long or else Coach will have you running 100 laps again.”

Your brows furrow at Vi at her teammates' insinuation.

Again?

Has she fucked a girl in the showers before?

“Yeah, okay.” Vi snorts as she presses her lips to yours.

The two of you listen for the receding footsteps before the sound of the large door slams once again. You grab onto Vi’s wrist to push her hand away from your shielded mouth as you bury your face into her neck, freely letting your timid moans out now.

“You’re a d-dick,” you stutter out into her damp skin, nibbling a possessive hickey on her skin.

Vi throws her head back to allow better access for your markings, a grunt leaving her lips.

“Oh, you love it, baby,” she mutters smugly.

And the upsetting thing is you really fucking do.

Her arrogant words draw you closer to cumming all over her fingers. Your clit throbs as you remove one of your hands to reach in between your bodies, rubbing your own aching bud.

“Vi, please. ‘M so close.” You whimper.

Vi takes notice of how you’re touching yourself, shaking her head with disappointment.

“Take your hand off.”

Your brow quips at her tone. She sighs as she leans in more to kiss you deeply, making you hum as she pulls away to ghost her lips over your own.

“Please?” She adds with a cheeky grin.

You hesitantly remove your hand, watching as she drops down on her knees with her fingers still pumping inside of you. You watch her latch her lips around your clit and moan lowly at the relieving feeling of her tongue. Your hands weave into her hair instantly, rolling your hips against her face shamelessly, your orgasm clawing at the base of your spine.

Vi’s eyes are hooded with concentration, and she doesn’t dare let up her persistent thrusts. You fold over, attempting to clench your legs to ease the pressure. The familiar overwhelming feeling rips through your chest and stomach.

“I– oh my god,” you whimper throughout your orgasm.

Your inner thighs shake with sensitivity as you can feel yourself leaking down her toned forearm. You let out soft pants as you come down from the orgasm, pushing Vi’s face back as carefully as you could manage. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears as you lean your head back against the tile, shutting your eyes to calm yourself down.

A few seconds pass of Vi placing kisses up your body before you feel the stream of the lukewarm water hitting your boneless naked body.

“So, now, should I be expecting you to ambush me while I’m in the shower from here on out or what’s our schedule looking like?” She tilts her head at you, brushing your hair out of your face.

“I didn’t ambush you. I let you know I was coming,” you shake your head with an amused grin.

Vi’s smile grows at your accidental innuendo, placing a hand over her own lips to attempt to hide it. Before she can say anything, you roll your eyes as you push her chest slightly.

“Ha, ha. Yes, I definitely let you know I was coming. You are so–”

Vi holds her hands up in defense with a shake of her head. “Hey, you said it. I didn’t.”

You two shared heavy kisses until the water runs cold. Showering together felt eerily domestic; not fitting the dynamic you’ve established.

As much as you insisted on just leaving in the clothes you came in, Vi had the brilliant idea to swap clothes. You left the locker room in her baggy joggers and her black wife pleaser, while she sported your ribbed lace grey cami and Hello Kitty pajama shorts that had her ass nearly hanging out of them.

You giggle at the sight as she reaches behind her to tug the back down, walking down the hall to the exit door.

“Well, this is the sexiest you’ve ever looked, Vi,” you motion to her (your) clothing.

Vi scoffs before ranking her eyes up and down your body. “It’s definitely worth it seeing you in my clothes. You look…”

You finish for her as you fold your arms in front of your chest with a knowing smile. “Douchey?”

“Beautiful.” She says simply, her eyes shining as she tilts her head at you.

The soft comment throws you off guard.

It means nothing, you repeat mentally before you take one step forward to capture her lips into a gentle kiss; too gentle for what you two are. Her hands find your waist, thumbing at your hips.

You pull away, hooking your finger onto the strap of the cami to snap it against her skin. “Have fun walking home in that.”

“Same goes to you, princess.” She kisses you once more, lingering as if she wants to stay here with you. “I’ll see you Wednesday?”

“Sadly.” You sigh dramatically.

Vi’s eyes flicker to your lips again once she detaches herself from you completely, pressing her back against the heavy exit door. You watch her leave into the bright midday sun, making her way to her own dorm room.

But you couldn’t help but wonder as you walked home:

Why the fuck did you miss her so much?

TAGLIST: @sawaagyapong @unear7hly @leeidk87 @childishname @ferxanda @whisperingcherub @rad-radical2 @strawb4kdior @natscloset @aliendustpee @satorix @rosieeteaa @moodient @mars4hellokitty @klallx @skzvilleshi @drunkenrosesluv @fairexy78 @angelynn-nicole @sevikas-baby @milanyas @jajsnjz @oatmatchalatte

[cupidkenji]

Slowing Down

Now playing: slowing down - the backseat lovers whisper in my ear that you need me Pairing: Nam gyu (player 124) x AFAB!Reader CW: smut, drugging, noncon (putting this as noncon but the MC is into it. However, they are under the influence so they cannot consent.), toxic ex bf trope, he's kind of manipulative sorry, p in v, praise, mocking, possessiveness, creampie, this is literally deplorable i'm sorry, kinda ooc, university AU Summary: Four months after breaking up with your boyfriend, your roommate asks you to pick her up. Of course he had to be there. Disclaimer: Reader is always written with a chubby/bigger person in mind but in this she's literally not described. WC: 3.7k part 2

this is disgusting and i'm sorry, please head the warnings. this is also not beta'd or proofread. i am tired and going to bed. sorry if this sucks. i wrote some pre-breakup HC if you want more <3

also check out this PHENOMENAL fanart if you want some visuals

The mildly run down apartment of a random university boy was an unfortunate place to find yourself when you had the option of being anywhere else. The brick walls were cracking and the water from the current rainfall made a sheen over the building that resembled porcelain. The glistening building was taunting and never ending as you stared up at the top floor, a single window open and seeping dim lighting out into the dark streets. Smoke was billowing out of it, bringing the scent of weed and the sound of laughter down into the depths of the road with you. You didn’t know how your roommate knew this guy, or why she came here if she didn’t have a ride planned, but you moved forward regardless. The front door was heavy, greasy and gray but lacking any security measures that were common for entry. There wasn’t even a front desk, just a desolate lobby that sat in front of an elevator. 

She’d told you where to find her in the text she’d sent twenty minutes ago, begging you to come get her and successfully misspelling words that you’d thought impossible to type incorrectly. It wouldn’t have been difficult regardless, even without the guidance. It was midnight, most people who inhabited the building were either out at their own parties or asleep. The only room that harbored audible life was the one she was pointing you to, and you were less than eager to walk into a room with a group of who knows how many intoxicated strangers. You didn’t even know her that well, just that she was keen to partying, and was usually able to find her own way home. You figured she must be truly desperate to resort to you, you didn’t have the heart to tell her no. 

The knocking you did felt like it bruised your knuckles. You hadn’t hit the door hard, but making any noise in the stillness of the hallway felt like a disservice. There was a penetrating calm in the building if you ignored the music leaking from your destination. It seemed wrong. When the door opened, smoke invaded your lungs quicker than you were anticipating, and you fought the urge to cough it up. The owner of the apartment had come to let you in. You recognized him vaguely from campus and knew of him only through stories you’d heard whispered between the girls he’d been with. You just wanted to go home. 

A giggly drawl of your name sounded out from behind him, and he stepped back from the doorway to let you lay your eyes on your roommate. You had no idea what she’d consumed over the past few hours, but she seemed loopy and out of it. You walked through the doorway with your eyes stuck to her, thinking about how the fuck you were gonna get her home in this state. She was practically rag dolling on the small loveseat that sat in the living room. She appeared in her own world, and you really didn’t want to haul her back to the car in front of however many people were in here. You hadn’t looked up, going and leaning over her for a moment. She looked right through you, staring at the ceiling with a permanent uptick of her lips carved on her face. She was giddy, and seemingly glued to the furniture. Her pupils nearly encased her irises and you knew she wasn’t moving anytime soon. How she managed to request your assistance in this state was beyond you. 

You heard the man who opened the door return to his seat behind you. It wasn’t loud, not like a party, you assumed there were maybe three people besides your roommate there. You were now in probably the most uncomfortable situation of your life - alone with three high strangers and a practically incapacitated roommate that was your responsibility. 

“Do any of you know what she took?” It was the only thing you could think to ask, turning around to face the crowd as you said it. If you hadn’t gotten your words out before you spun, you would have choked on them. Of course, among the three people that could have been sitting there, was your ex. Locking eyes with him now was equivalent to letting someone rip the air from your lungs.

You’d met Nam Gyu at the beginning of your freshman year, him being a grade above you. He’d made you feel things you’d never envisioned for yourself. Writing them off trivially as immature and placing yourself above them. For two years you grew intertwined with him, and when he got deep into his problems, you did everything you could to help him. Eventually, it was too much, and you left. The residual devastation had stayed draped over you for the past four months you’ve been apart. You were growing convinced you’d feel gutted forever. He hadn’t taken kindly to the split, pestering and persisting every moment he could spare. He seemed convinced he’d get you back, never failing to remind you of the experiences the two of you had. Just his presence dragged you back to the depths of it, and your knees nearly buckled beneath you. You’d missed his eyes, missed being close enough to see all of him. You did a good job of avoiding him, so he resorted to calling, or texting. You never blocked him, you couldn’t bring yourself to. 

You couldn’t read his face, you could only witness the flick of his eyes over you, feeling too exposed even in your covered state. “Probably something from the bag.” The man sitting to his right spoke, sporting purple hair and painted nails. You’d seen him on campus too. “She’ll be alright.” He didn’t seem fully sober either, something in the nonchalance and slight slur of his words keyed you in. At least he was comprehensible. You didn’t even look at him, caught in the pinpoint gaze that stayed locked on you. 

You took a shallow breath, stomach stumbling slightly at the thickness of the oxygen combined with the abundance of smoke. That was what you told yourself, anyway. “I’m supposed to be taking her home.” Your eyes flicked to the left. A smaller man took up that end of the couch they were sharing, glossy eyes and shy demeanor. He was caved in on himself, he barely seemed to notice you. 

The man of the hour chuckles slightly. “Good luck.” He motions to the girl with his head as he speaks. “She doesn’t seem to be moving any time soon.” 

You took a glance behind you, your roommate fully asleep on the loveseat. You were fucked. 

The purple haired man looked at you. “You can stay here for a minute if you want. She’ll sober up in a bit. Shit’s fast acting.” You were thankful he didn’t seem creepy. He also appeared in his own world, more concerned about his high than the random girls that were there for the ride. “She could always just crash here too, we’re all planning to.” 

You looked at your roommate for a second time, considering the options. You could feel the familiar eyes casting a shadow on you. Regardless of the assumed kindness of the men, you still didn’t know them. You had no idea how well your roommate knew them either. You hated to think about leaving her here and something happening. Technically it would be on your hands, and you didn’t want her to get hurt. “Yeah, alright. I’ll wait her out.” You sunk down in front of your roommate, sitting on the floor wasn’t ideal, but you almost felt like you were protecting her, blocking any harm by keeping her behind you. You heard one of them mumble something about drinks in the kitchen, but you were planning to stay rooted to your spot. Since Nam gyu refused to say a word or steer his eyes away from you, you took out your phone to kill time while you waited. 

When your attention was away from him, he spoke with his friends. You hated how deep his voice cut. It was so indescribably comforting to hear it again. You’d been declining his calls for this very reason, you knew the more of him you had, the harder it would be to stay away. After an hour, your phone was getting low, and your roommate was still passed out. The shy one had ducked away to a different room, presumably going to sleep, just leaving your energized ex and his friend who seemed to be getting drowsier as the minutes passed. You didn’t want to consume anything that might have been in that place, but inhaling nothing but smoke for the past hour had sucked the moisture from your throat. You reluctantly stood, drawing the eyes of only one of the men, and taking begrudging steps into the kitchen. 

Opening the fridge, you grabbed a random carton of tea after your search for water failed. You grabbed a disposable cup from the container on the table, you were grateful - you hadn’t wanted to look for glasses. Leaving your now full cup, you turned to put the carton back in the fridge. He was standing far too close to you when you turned back, resembling a jump scare from some cheesy horror film. You took a shaky breath, grabbing your cup and walking back to your spot. You didn’t want to talk. He followed suit a minute later, a soda can grasped in his palm. He continued his conversation with the man beside him like nothing had happened, and you envied that ability. Your heart was beating like it was going to stop. You drank your tea faster than you even wanted to, just doing something to fight the urge of looking at him. You could have sworn your resolve would be stronger than this. 

His eyes seemed to float to you more than they had been. You felt monitored, stalked, even. It was such a piercing sensation that a mild cold sweat started on your skin. There was something so personal about the way he looked at you. A devoted gaze of a predator, someone intense. It was something that drew you to him in the first place, something that wrestled within you. Fear and want in one. God, you wanted to go home. You spent maybe another twenty minutes on your phone, feeling the world get hazy around you. You hoped the invading mental fog was just a consequence of the late hour, of the smoke around you. You needed to move, so you stood up to throw your cup away. Your legs felt like steel rods, heavy and immovable. You don’t know how you dragged yourself back into the kitchen. Your skin felt like it was buzzing, too sensitive to the air around you.

You heard the couch creak behind you, the sound of confident footsteps as you stumbled and nearly fell. You were an imbalanced scale, tipping to one side when attempting to stand normally. Familiar hands caught you, and the feeling of him on you after so long pushed a small sob out of your dry throat. You didn’t have the strength to suppress it. “Careful.” He spoke low, so close to you that you could feel the vibration of his chest on your back. Your lips trembled as you looked around, things looked like static, marbling patterns blurring around you. 

“What’s happening?” You hated how pathetic you sounded, teary and weakened. “Did you do something to me?” You sounded so small; quiet and choking out your words instead of saying them. His hands felt so heavy on your skin. You despised the inherent recognition that your body held for him. You weren’t stupid, he’d probably drugged you. How fucking deranged did it make you that you were still getting wet for him, even in this headspace. You squirmed a bit in his hold, but all that accomplished was making his hands rub against your skin, getting heavier as his hands tightened to keep you in his grasp. You looked back at the couch, his friend had fallen asleep, and your roommate was out like a light. You were so fucked. 

“No, no. You’re ok.” He started walking towards the door of the apartment as you stumbled to clutch on to him. The world felt like a pool of molasses. “Let’s go back home, yeah?” He was still holding you, dragging you along with him and mumbling out the words like he was talking to a baby. “Not like you wanted to be here anyway.”

It was still raining when you got outside, the feeling of your clothes sopping up the water and molding to your skin was excruciating. The air felt prickly, like a cactus, and it made your poor roofied brain so confused that your body didn’t know how to react. It was bordering on painful as you sat in the passenger seat of your own car - him grabbing the keys on the way out and getting in the driver’s seat like he owned it. He didn’t even seem high. Your body ached, tingling like a shockwave, but your thighs were clenching in direct opposition to the sensation. Wires got crossed in your brain, and you were practically dripping into your underwear as your skin buzzed like you were on fire. You couldn’t sit still, shifting little by little and choking ever so slightly on some of your inhales. The drive was only ten minutes, but it felt like an hour. 

You watched him open the door to your place. You swore you’d taken his key when you left him. Maybe it was yours, you couldn’t remember him taking it out of your pocket. Your apartment was cold, and you heard him sigh as he shut the door. He’d been here a thousand times over the years, something he was clearly remembering as he returned for the first time in four months. You heard the thoughts ring out in your head, bound back and forth with a million different things. Your hand was flat on the wall, looking at him lost like you were waiting for direction, or answers, or just something from him. 

You couldn’t seem to properly catch your breath, chest heaving slightly as he moved towards you, his hands cradling your face to force eye contact. “I’ve missed this, you know?” He looked over the space he could see. It was brief, just enough to take it in without diverting his attention away from you for too long. “You haven’t changed anything.”

He pulled your hand off the wall, turning you around and forcing you to walk in tandem with him as he headed to your bedroom. He was right against your ear, speaking so low and knowing, your brain felt like a puddle in your head, only thinking about him and what he was going to do. “Most people go through breakups and they want to change everything, get something fresh.” Your stomach lurched as he opened the door, your own room causing a new feeling to stir in your gut. It wasn’t comfort, or fear. You couldn’t tell what it was. “What does it say that you left everything the same, huh?” He put his chin on your shoulder, holding you from behind in such a disgustingly intimate way. Your underwear was sticking to you at this point, you felt sick. “Did you really think you could stay away from me?” There was none of the usual malice in his tone, he sounded amused. As if he was scolding you for such a comical belief. 

Your back hit the bed, as gentle as the first time he’d ever laid you on it. The lack of standing was a welcome relief, and you could have wept with the feelings that swept over you as you drank in the sight of him standing above you. You tried so desperately to remember why you’d left in the first place, fighting through the haze to not lose your will. “Wait- you-” You didn’t have a clue what you were even trying to express. “No- I can’t.” 

He was heavy on top of you, hands drawing lines of fire as they dragged your shirt off. That exposed feeling you’d been sitting on all night cranked up severely as he stared at you, tracing his hands over you as he remapped old trails he’d been so familiar with. Nobody had touched you in four months. You’d been reeling so hard from the loss that you’d barely touched yourself. With your already limited capacity to process what was happening, combined with your recent celibacy, you felt like you were going to die, and it just made you all the more wanting.

“No?” He mocked, slipping the pants you were wearing down your legs. “Why’s that?” 

You were breathing heavy, lungs filling with the air that seemed too thick, bearing the weight of the tension. “We’re not-” You stumbled over your words as he kissed down your chest. “We’re not together anymore.” He nipped at you, leaving a stinging feeling that forced quiet groans from your mouth. “And you fucking drugged me-”

“And you’re fucking soaked.” He ran his thumb over the prominent wet patch on your underwear, pushing it aside to make bare contact with you. “You’ve always been easy, honey, but this is something else.” He takes his time sliding against you, making you preen at the contact. You were so caught between right and wrong. He’d touched you a thousand times, dragged the same sounds out of you he was doing now; but he didn’t have the right to do that anymore, he shouldn’t be doing it, not like this. The argument formed and died in your mushy brain, the feeling of the craving you’ve had for months finally being satisfied pushed all reasoning out of sight. It felt so good, and he was barely doing anything. A couple slow lines up and down, and you could practically hear it. He was right, and you were in borderline tears from how much you needed this.

You watched his clothes come off, wishing you could have helped, but rejoicing in the view of his bare skin. It was fucking pathetic how much you reveled in the sight. You felt like a lapdog, some pavlovian response firing up in your brain as you stared at him. Had you truly thought you could stay away? You could have changed the locks, or cut your hair, maybe reinvented your wardrobe. You had been devastated, yes, but maybe the reason you were never heartbroken was because you knew the split wouldn’t last. A dedicated devotee rarely deserts the altar, why would you be different? Why would you want to be different when he felt so fucking good against you?

You choked on a tiny gasp as he started pushing into you, your hands reaching to grasp his shoulders as easy as any instinct is. You hear the small noise that pours out of his parted lips, tightening around him as he bottoms out. You go practically brain dead at the feeling, mourning that specific fullness more than you ever thought you could grieve anything. He seems to sense it. “Don’t you miss me inside you, honey?” Even if you can barely process anything other than the feeling of him, you still pick up on that sleazy tone he can never seem to shake. Mocking and arrogant, always talking down to you somehow. “It was stupid to leave.” He starts moving his hips, calculated and slow - loving in a way that’s out of character for him. “You know you’re fucking made for me.” His words were breathed out in a sigh, audible content in his voice, as if he could stay like this forever. You realized with slight horror that you wanted him to. You wanted to be here forever. 

You were being driven so thoughtfully to the edge that you could barely keep up. The hand that wasn’t holding himself up was rubbing timed circles on your clit, his face finding home in your neck. If he wasn’t leaving marks, he was saying something that was only making you tighten around him more. “I didn’t want to have to do this, you know that.” You nodded, eyes watering from the intensity. “I tried so hard.” You just nodded again as he sucked a bruise into the underside of your jaw. You were scared to look at the damage when this wore off. “If you had just talked to me, we could have worked it out.” You couldn’t pick apart his words right now. Not when you were so close and he said them in that tone that just killed any critical thinking you had in you. 

“I’m sorry.” You could barely hear the words as you said them, whispered hoarsely as you tensed up. Your lips were trembling, a tear running down the side of your face and dripping onto the sheets. 

His hips stuttered at the sight, cursing under his breath. “I know, It’s ok.” He put his mouth on your jaw, mumbling his forgiveness so you could feel the vibrations, etch them into your skin. “Don’t hold it, honey, you can cum.” The permission made you lightheaded, air rushing from your lungs. “Just let me back in, yeah? I’ll forget it even happened.” 

You were so close that it was painful, his motions speeding up. You whimpered, small and meek. Your hands were shaking, hiccupping as a couple more tears streaked down your face. The thought of having him back was so enticing, even through the mild sedation that was still coursing through you, you felt like you were whole again like this. You came hard, so hard that you thought you might black out for a moment as it fully hit you. He followed right after, cumming inside you for the first time in your entire relationship, as if to physically demonstrate his intentions, to emphasize that you were made for him. You belonged together, something that he whispered with various other praises as his hips slowed to a stop. You sat with the weight of what just happened, what was most likely going to happen when you were sober. You couldn’t imagine being away from him anymore. It was hard enough holding out for four months, but after this? It seemed impossible. You realized that it hardly mattered, even if you wanted to leave, after tonight,

you doubt he’d let you.

[grandline-fics]

Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: It's Doflamingo so it features mentions of killing/ injury/ general violence. Soulmate! AU, Enemies to Lovers

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 2,046

A/N: Part of the Good For Your Soul Series. The next part is here, I had so much fun writing the first part that I just couldn't stop thinking about the next chapter of this.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

Chapter One | Chapter Two (here) | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Seventeen | Chapter Eighteen(coming soon)

——————

Your Marine photo lay on Doflamingo’s desk beside a copy of your file, the information sent through by Vergo in record time. It was sitting waiting to be read the second he returned to Dressrosa. One of the Palace’s doctors tended to your injuries while he withdrew to the peace and quiet of his private quarters to get his mind straight. The entire journey home he couldn’t stop but think about the cause for his powers not working on you. Over and over he tried to make sense of it, nothing added up and the longer he thought about it the more agitated he became, desperate for an answer. Desperate for a cure or a fix or whatever you wanted to call it. No one would get the better of him and certainly not some unknown Marine that came across his path at the wrong time. 

Settling into his chair he pushed your photo aside and flicked open the file, lazily reading over the information. He didn't need to know about your past missions or any of that inconsequential nonsense. Doflamingo was searching for something remarkable, a mention of a Devil Fruit, anything in your parentage that could give him some insight in his search for answers. He felt the vein in the centre of his head throb when nothing jumped out at him. As if sensing his unhappiness, the den-den mushi rang and he lifted the receiver, not even bothering to speak first. Vergo’s voice sounded. “Was the file acceptable Doffy?”

“Acceptable in that it's detailed but not what I was looking for.” Doflamingo snapped your file closed and pinched the corner of your photo between his thumb and finger, lifting it to inspect your appearance blankly. “Could anything have been missed?”

“From what I can see everything is accurate and up to date. Medical history, combat and mission logs, specialised training and skills.” Vergo noted, on his end of the call he was looking at your file too checking over everything to ensure he hadn't missed a page or annotation. “Is there something specific you’d hoped to have known?”

“Devil Fruit ability? Something that would render my skills useless against them.” There was a beat of silence from the other end of the call. Vergo found himself genuinely surprised that someone could be unaffected by his master’s power.

“If they possess a Devil Fruit capable of that, they’ve managed to conceal its existence for as long as they’ve been part of the Marines.” Doflamingo glared at your picture, not satisfied at all. “I’ll look into things on my end just in case someone higher up has intentionally kept certain information out of their file.”

“Good.” Doflamingo ended the call and discarded your photo, in one swift movement he rose from the desk and left his room. He suspected you would be awake by now and he was in no mood to just sit back and wait for Vergo to research things. It was time to ask you directly and if you knew what was good for you, you’d answer his questions. 

He slammed the door open and without needing to say a word the doctor fled the room, leaving him alone to stare down at you as you lay on the bed. You were awake as he suspected and staring blankly at the ceiling. You weren’t restrained and you’d only been in here with the doctor, even with your injuries you were most likely capable of overpowering him and escaping had you wanted but in Doflamingo’s view of the situation you looked bored. “Did any of them survive?”

Doflamingo’s grin appeared at your question and he sat on the edge of the doctor’s desk. Still no begging for your life? Not even a curious ask of where you were or what was going to happen. Instead you were looking for confirmation of your unit’s status. “Every single one of them died.” He tilted his head to see you nod in acceptance. “No tears to shed for them?”

“I’ll mourn them privately if I live long enough.” You told him stiffly, training you gaze on the ceiling, refusing to look at the man whose presence filled the room intensely. The memory of what happened at the warehouse was fresh enough and you didn’t need to look at the Warlord. Perhaps if you didn’t feed into his sick entertainment of tormenting you, he’d grow bored and kill you quick. You’d reasoned that was why you were still alive, you’d fallen unconscious too soon before he had his fun. “You’ve been keeping me alive for a reason.”

“I want answers about your power.” Doflamingo told you, grinning wider to see you slowly look at him at last. Your expression was unreadable but the fact you finally looked at him felt like confirmation that you knew what he was talking about. “Born with it or is it a Devil Fruit?”

“I don’t have any power.” You answered, confusion evident in your tone. Doflamingo’s jaw clenched, you were a skilled liar. You had to be because for a second he almost believed you. “You wasted resources in healing me. I can’t tell you anything about something I don’t have.”

“I’m trying to be patient here. You can stop lying about your ability I saw it for myself.”

“Then you were imagining things. I don’t have any-” You were cut off when Doflamingo was across the room and lifting you into the air so you were eye level with him, his hand tightly around your throat. You could feel the strength in his grip, the power but you didn’t feel any pain. Was he just trying to intimidate you? To let you feel the ultimate control he had over himself when he could easily snap your neck or squeeze the life out of you. In a way you wanted it to be quick, being a prisoner and dragging out the torment was not ideal. With a heavy sigh you could only repeat. “I don’t have any power.”

Doflamingo felt the rage building in him once again. Even now you lied to his face so blatantly? He had put enough force into his hold to choke you, to at least make you squirm and hold some fear for your life and yet you didn’t react. You didn’t even twitch or try to struggle for breath as it still came to you so easily. It wasn’t just his powers or using a weapon, his own strength failed him around you. He was incapable of harming you.

Keeping you in his hold he turned and left the room, ignoring the frightened and scrambling servants who leapt out of his way and bowed lowly until he passed. Even his subordinates from the lowest rank to some of his elites didn’t even register in his mind not even when they called after him and followed close behind. At this point in time he was in search of only one other person who could give him some clear insight. Bursting into one of the drawing rooms he locked eyes on the former Princess of Dressrosa. “Violet. Your power now.” He growled as he dropped you onto the plush armchair. “I want to know the truth of their ability.”

You looked at the woman who stepped forward, remaining silent as she made a circle with her thumb and finger and peered at you intensely. If only you knew what power or ability Doflamingo was so adamant you possessed, at least then you’d have some idea of what was going on. One moment you were a Marine, just doing your job and now you sat in the home of a feared Warlord completely clueless. You jumped when Violet let out a shocked, strangled yell. Even Doflamingo tensed at the sound and he stared at her hard. “What do you see?”

“It’s not possible.” She whispered, not just looking at you but also Doflamingo with equal shock and disbelief. “Never thought I'd see such a thing.”

“Stop the riddles Violet, what’s their ability and how do we reverse it?” Your head snapped up to him and you frowned heavily. Reverse? What had to be reversed? Did something happen while you were unconscious? Could it have been something to do with what was in the warehouse before it exploded. Had remnants of some weird substance gotten on you? 

“It’s not an ability…it’s something bigger than that. It’s fate.” She whispered and Doflamingo scoffed in annoyance, his fingers flexing. He was getting agitated and if he didn’t get answers soon, a lot of people were going to get sliced. “I swear! It’s the only way I can explain what I see. The two of you are connected. It’s not at the mind or heart…it’s deeper. Your souls are bound to each other.”

Now it was your turn to scoff. No, this had to be some trick. Some sort of bizarre theatrics planned while you were unconscious. You still didn’t know how long you’d been asleep for, it was likely they kept you sedated in order to perfect these performances although for what end you couldn’t tell. You weren’t high ranking enough to be of any use to Doflamingo and he was a Warlord and a King of an entire island. He had enough power and influence as it was. Just what was going on and why of all things go with the ‘connected at the soul’ nonsense? The existence of soulmates had been recorded a few times throughout the world’s history but it was extremely rare to the point it was considered myth. Violet seemed exasperated at not being believed and looked to Doflamingo. “You’ve tried to kill them already?”

“A few times.” He answered tightly. First at the warehouse with his strings, then with your gun, then again in the doctor’s room. You didn’t even bruise in any of the attempts. Behind his bright glasses he looked down at you out of the corner of his eyes, noting you didn't seem surprised by his admission. Instead you looked confused about how you were still alive. You shook your head, still not convinced by any of this. No, this wasn't happening. You jolted in your seat as the sound of gunfire sounded loudly above you. 

Slowly you tilted your head up to meet the smoking barrel of the gun that had been aimed directly with the top of your head, the weapon held steadily and unwaveringly in Doflamingo’s grip. There was no missing with that proximity but you were alive, you hadn’t even been grazed by any of the bullets. Swallowing hard your body began to shake, not out of fear of the weapon but by the undeniable truth of the situation. You glanced down to see the bullets on the ground, the pathway they would have had to take to land beside the chair was impossible but there they were. You were protected from any harm by Doflamingo's hand by fate as Violet said. 

Both of you had the answer now and neither of you liked it. Those that were in the room that had been there to witness the truth of the matter for themselves were stunned and silent. To see the existence of a soulmate and the rumoured power it had for the pair would be something they would never forget. For some it was also an extra thread of proof that their master, Doflamingo was truly amazing to have a soulmate. With a growl, Doflamingo threw the gun across the room, letting it smash through the antique vase and send the roses it held scattering onto the floor. Then a sound filled the room, you began to laugh. You couldn’t help it. The sheer absurdity of it all and the weight of this new reality was too much. It was like some higher power had decided to play the cruelest joke imaginable on you and you finally got the punchline. 

“So what’s the plan?” You asked, looking at your ‘soulmate’ expectantly. “Do I go home and we pretend this isn’t happening? Or do you have another idea?”

“You’re not going anywhere.” Doflamingo’s statement was firm and quicker than you anticipated. You could only nod slightly and glance once more at the bullets on the floor.   

“Thought as much.”

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[kyra-myra]

MONKEY D DRAGON

# you been working with him for 10 years since you were 15 years old. So you really know him. This past few days is super busy and you know he won't have time to eat. So you went to his office to check up on him. And end up being under him, helping him release some stress #

Minor do not react. 18++. I warn you.

_________________________________________

He sat at his desk, as the leader of the revolutionary army he is very tired and stressed. Dragon groans and fummbles through his paperwork "so...much to do..so little time" He said quietly to himself

"then how about taking some rest. You look like a corpse already" she walked to him. Placing the report on his desk

Dragon looked up and saw her, he chuckled to himself at her comment. "I've been compared to worse things before, but I suppose you're right. I'm supposed to be a leader yet I can barely move without getting sore" he said jokingly

"you need some rest. And shower cause you definitely look and smell like one. Damn when the last time you shower" she tease

He rolled his eyes jokingly "I know I know, I probably smell like a damn horse, but I've just been so busy the past few days I don't have time for a shower. I barely even get enough time to eat" He said exasperated

She glares at him then grabs the paper from his hand. "Go take a shower dragonnn." She then hides the paper behind her and takes a step back .

He tries to take the papers back "Hey! I'm supposed to be the leader, I have to do these" He said in a slightly whiny but playful tone

"try me" she teases while taking a step back.

He smirked and stood up fully, being a lot taller then she was "Oh really, I could take those papers right out of your hand if I wanted to"

She started to regret her actions. This guy can easily dominate her. What actually she's thinking is trying to tease this guy. But she kept firm. And keep stepping back

He took a few steps closer to her, a smirk on his face as he saw her take a step back "Are you sure you should be playing with someone like me love?~" He said with a hint of flirtation in his voice

That sent a shiver down her spine. She then took a big step back but hit the wall already. She gasped when she realized that. "Okay fine, take this" she pushed the paper on his hand and tried to leave.

He stopped her, grabbing her wrist, his hand almost encircling all the way around. "Oh no you don't love~" *He said in a commanding tone, his voice making it clear that disobedience won't be tolerated. He slammed her back to the wall. Throwing that paper to the ground.

"you wanted to help didn't you?" He grabs her chin and makes her look at him. She nodded while staring at him. He lean closer and whisper to her ear. "Then help me release some stress"

With a swift movement, shes hover on his shoulder walking toward the bathroom. Then her chest is press against the glass and arch her back. Without warning he thrust deep into your. Without any preparation.

She flinch a bit by his size.

"dragon" she scream

"shut up and take it." He push her head on the glass and fuck her hard. He thrust his hip hard. Like punching a punching bag. He lifts her leg up a bit then slams deeper. "Ughh yess. Just take me like that" he bit on his neck while slamming.

Her moan is getting louder and louder. She screamed his name at the top of her lung. She barely breathes properly before he grabs her waist and pulls her deep. Slamming harder into him.

He hugged her close. "Ahhh I'm close" and slam even harder. He covers her mouth while fastening his pace. She only can grab the glass to stabilize herself. A few more thrust and he groaned while slam her deep.

"ughh damnnn. That's my girl" then slowly pulling himself out. She hugged her close and kissed her neck. Both of them are gasping for air.

He cleans her up then dries her before laying her down to the bed. He kissed her forehead. "Thanks sweetie, that's really helpful" he smirked then slept next to her.

_________________________________________

[skylarmoon71]

Castiel (Supernatural/Grimm) - Short Story - Chapter 6

It’s been about a year since the whole multiverse debacle. 

Diana has promised to avoid any potential spells that might blast you across the galaxy.

More like you threatened her.

For the while she’s keeping her nose out of your business.

It would be a lie to say you don’t miss Castiel. For the first few months it was easy to bury yourself in your work, pretend, but every now and then you’ll walked past the park and catch a couple smiling at each other, or you'll see some angel ornament in a window, or at the mall and your mind would rush back to his face, those eyes, his beautiful wings.

Sometimes it feels like a dream, one you wish you can jump back into, if nothing but to see him again.

Seated at your desk, you look down at your hand, the memory of the ruby string hanging off your pinky.

“Maybe things will change, you never know. We were able to go there, so maybe he can come here. It’s a possibility.”

You knew Diana just wanted to bring you some kind of comfort, but it’s foolish to hold onto that, yet you can’t seem to move on. A part of you still feels like there was a reason you ended up there. Surely you were meant to meet him for a reason other than just to shamelessly gawk at each other.

You ball your fists, closing the file in front of you. There’s no way you can focus on filling out paperwork.

Might as well call it a day.

~The Spice Shop~

“Diana, have you seen the-oh thank you you’re a lifesaver.” 

Rosalee smiled as the bottle of herbs she’d been looking for floated right into her hands. Diana was seated at the table, eyes focused on her text as she nodded.

Monroe walked in from the back room, Kelly right behind him.

“Diana being a nuisance again?” He poked.

“Says the guy that got his but handed to him by a kid last week.”

“He’s a really well trained intern.” Kelly snarked, rotating his shoulder.

“How is life at the FBI, still pining after that quirky tech analyst at Quantico?”

“I’ll have you know that I’m taking her out for dinner this week.” He looked pretty proud of himself. Rosalee and Monroe exchanged a smile just as the bell rang, alerting them that someone had entered the shop.

Diana smiled the moment she saw you.

“(Y/N), you’re back early.”

“Couldn’t focus, so I left a bit early. I’m surprised you’re here Kelly. Got your butt kicked again and came to get some herbs to soothe the pain.”

He sent you a blank look as Diana burst out laughing.

“That’s my cue to leave. I know you're both just jealous because I’m the favorite.”

“Yeah, the favorite pain in the ass.” You quipped.

He ruffled your hair before waving as he existed. No doubt to head back to DC. He’d probably stopped by to see your parents and ultimately came to check in on Rosalee and Monroe. At this point it’s almost a habit for all of you.

When the door closed behind you, Diana sent you a look. You quirk a brow.

“What’s with the look?”

“You’re wearing that expression again.”

“What expression?”

“The sad lovesick expression.”

You just roll your eyes.

“I feel like you say this every other week.”

“Only because you look like that every other week.”

You just shrug it off. You can lie and say that you aren’t in fact lovesick, but even without powers Diana would see through that.

“I’m heading home, just wanted to see Kelly before he left. I’ll see you.”

Monroe and Rosalee send you smiles and the second you’re out the door Diana lets out a heavy sigh.

“This sucks. I really wish I could just zap him back here for her.”

Rosalee looks sympathetic.

“I can’t imagine what she’s going through. “

“I know. I still have a hard time believing you guys actually saw an angel.” Monroe adds.

Diana hums, laying her face in her palm as she tries to think of ways to heal your aching heart.

You’ve learned by now that she’s not someone who gives up easily, that’s why it’s not even surprising when she texts you the following morning with some attachments to dating sites. You laugh.

She’s persistent, you’ll give her that.

“Burkhardt!”

The call from your captain draws your attention. He gestures you into his office and you do so.

“Captain, what’s the case?”

He smiles.

“No case, we finally got you a partner. Hopefully you won’t glare this one away.”

“The last guy kept hitting on me. He’s lucky all he got was a glare.”

You were really close to pushing him into oncoming traffic.

“Well, can’t exactly fault you for that. That was a fumble on my part but I think I’ve finally cracked the code. Kline!”

His yell rings through the precinct and you laugh as you turn, awaiting whoever you’ll be forced to pair up with. The first thing your eyes track is the familiar trench coat, then that signature blue tie.

When your eyes truly connect, it’s almost like that first time, that first introduction, you’re almost convinced that you’re hallucinating because you’ve lost count of how many times you pictured him walking through that door. Yet, this time, it’s not as vague as your daydreams.

This feels real.

“(Y/N) Burkhardt, this is Castiel Kline, he’s new, transferred all the way from Quantico. He’s an exceptional agent from what I’ve read. Try not to kill each other.”

He basically shoves you both out of the office and you stumble. Castiel reaches out, steadying you and the touch, it’s still hard to fathom.

“Is it..really you Castiel?”

He nods, a little smile making its way on his face.

“It’s great to see you again (Y/N).”

You have no words, so you just hug him and he returns it, inhaling deeply as if trying to commit it all to memory. You can’t imagine anything more amazing than being in his arms.

“No fraternizing on the job!!”

The shout from your captain has other officers in the background laughing and you can’t help but do the same. 

[feifeiwrites]

But This Was Never Planned - Part 2 ( Part 1 )

Dolores and Kayla have a private chat about the latest news.

New World is a perilous territory bursting with the Blue Sea’s strongest pirates — Dolores Rivera is one of them. At seventeen, she lost her greatest treasure and sought to ensure nobody else suffered her heartbreaking loss. With her head attached to a pricey bounty poster, Dolores became an instant hit among West Blue bounty hunters and her popularity increased in the Grand Line.

Initially, Baroque Works underestimated her abilities and sent their meanest, rustiest grunts after her. Lower-ranked bounty hunters were immediately dealt with rampaging bullet-fire and the crude plummeting of her bandaged fists. Their lucrative business means that they had the option to send extremely powerful Devil Fruit users for a successful assault. They chose not to, leaving her alone after their undercover operations crumbled beneath a Warlord’s hubris.

Dolores counts her seastone calibers, legs crossed on top of her scratched desk and loads them into her revolver’s barrel. Ever since her fateful encounter with an Admiral and the countless witnesses that watched her assault a Celestial Dragon ( rightfully so ), Dolores properly arms herself with the Marines’ equipment. Seastone weakens Devil Fruit users, and Dolores deals extra damage by pouring her willpower into her guns.

( Her aim never misses, it never does. )

She lays back in her cushioned chair, tipping its back legs. Dolores is careful to balance herself, lest she falls and anyone who has half of a brain knows that falling is disrespectful to Edward Newgate’s name in this new era. The door to her captain’s quarters knock in a familiar rhythm only known to she and her first mate and Dolores doesn’t feel like moving.

“Come in! Door’s unlocked, Kayla.”

Who is the most reliable crewmate in the Pale Horse pirates? Kayla Skyy. Her mysterious past eludes Dolores, having met at Loguetown whilst haunted by her own. She stared at Gold Roger’s execution platform, questioning if her decision to avenge her younger brother and mother was the right path. By having a corrupt Marine for a step-father, Dolores thought she was already doomed to meet a similar end to Roger and nearly forfeited when fighting against a captain.

( Smoke and gunpowder follows Dolores everywhere she goes. )

Kayla rushed in to aid her. At the time, the delightful Kayla Skyy worked at her family’s restaurant and sparingly used her hands in ending brawls. Right there and then, Kayla decided that she’d join Dolores as she was marked for death after siding with a public enemy and became her first mate without a hitch.

The Old West’s chef kindly smiles in the dim candlelight and the golden strands of Alabastan ribbon tied around her long, thick braids to pull them into a bun.

“I’m checking on you, Dolores.” Kayla trots inside with a rolled-up newspaper stuffed in her arm and a freshly-brewed mug of lungo, shutting the door upon her entry. “Are you tidy here? You’re always running a tight ship, but I’d like to make sure.”

Dolores relaxes her jaded eyes, waking up to her concern. “Doin’ better than yesterday, Kayla. That’s for sure.”

“Great! You’ll love today’s news,” she exclaims, skimming over the newspaper. “The Straw Hats are on the front page again, but there’s more rookies I’m interested in!”

Kayla approaches Dolores, placing the newspaper on her desk when the vaquera removes her legs. She points at a smaller article inside of the second page, shoved to a lower area to make room for the Vice Admiral’s grandson and his compañeros.

“See here? I’ve had my eye on them for a while,” whispers Kayla. “This is the same pair responsible for beatin’ the shit out of a commander to take their ship!”

Dolores sets down her stenciled revolver, reading the World Economy’s latest article in clear interest. “Huh. Seems like the kid’s grown last time I’ve seen him.”

The Lagoon Shuffle Pirates had announced their dubious alliance with the Heart Pirates — “Dancing Plague” Gabriel Guerreo and “Tornado Fillet” Frayli Chaemsai are notorious in the Worst Generation for committing grand atrocities such as: humiliating Cipher Pol 8 at Lulusia Kingdom, aiding in freeing slaves at Sabaody Archipelago, throwing a massive dance party in a Marine base with two other crews. After defeating Warlord Gecko Moria…

“Gosh — hey, wait.” Kayla squints at Dolores, tilting her head. “You’re talking like you know them. Or, one of them.”

“It’s a long story.” Dolores pulls out a false cigarette and bites down, giving her a rare smile. “Can’t believe that he’s a pirate.”

“Which one of them is it? The Guerrero one with the nasty kick?”

Dolores chuckles warmly, accepting the coffee mug offered by Kayla and nods. Their short detour through the Capital of Water involved dealing with the shipyard’s talented carpenters and Kayla skillfully negotiated with them on a proper deal. She often handled the pale Horse’s finances, allowing them to repair their ship for a discount as long as they’re paying on time.

This arrangement meant Dolores forfeited her stolen treasures in exchange for berry, carried by her sides in innocent-looking briefcases. During her return trip to Galley-La, Dolores spotted a younger kid bouncing around the sidewalks and earning Berry for dancing. He clearly enjoyed grooving in crowded areas, fetching a prominent audience for an amateur and Dolores was itching to do something else that wasn’t life-threatening.

( The White Vaquera dropped her suitcases right in front of him, clapping her hands. “Mind if I join in, conejito?” )

( Under scattered rays of sunshine, Dolores and Gabriel danced before Kayla found her to pay back the Galley-La shipwrights for their appreciated work. When she left, Dolores threw an entire wad of cash inside of his bowl and told him to spend it wisely. )

( She hopes Gabriel saved it for a rainy day. )

In the middle of her long recollection, Dolores chugs down her doppio and remembers an important topic from last night. “Did you hear back from Teddy at all? I haven’t seen him in a while. … Not since we freed the slaves on Lancro Island.”

Kayla perks up, embers flowing from her giant cloak. “Oh, that’s right! He contacted us on the transponder snail around midnight, I picked up the call and as it turns out - he’s made a breakthrough on the Void Century!”

“Anything on Sun God Nika?” Dolores sips from her otter-shaped mug, careful to not spill any. “And is the Revolutionary Army doing well?”

Kayla glances upward, humming. “Not quite. It’s still big news, as it turns out, Joyboy is…"

It's always okay to learn about the forbidden knowledge that the World Government doesn't want you to know.

[tanyawritesstories]

Love Comes With A Hat | Kung Lao x Reader

So this fic was actually based off of a dream I had a few months ago. It's based off the movie characters looks because that's the way I saw it in my brain. It's the first fic I've written for a Mortal Kombat character so I hope y'all like it and that it's accurate.

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: technically there's smut but it's brief, pregnancy, drinking, angst, feelings, pregnant reader, Bo Rai Cho is a warning all his own

•••

You stared at the test in your hand, not experiencing the emotions you expected. You were shocked more than anything, it had only been one random night. It was an accident. An accident you remembered quite vividly. It had started as just a few innocent drinks with Kung Lao, Liu Kang, and their master Bo Rai Cho. But if you learned anything about Bo Rai Cho that night, it was that he liked to drink and he liked to buy drinks for everyone. That's how you and Kung Lao both ended up more drunk than you wanted to be, and if you had learned anything about Kung Lao that night it was that he was a flirty drunk. A very flirty drunk. You were too tipsy to care about your respectful relationship with the Shaolin monk and just happy that your friend was showing you some romantic attention. You shamelessly flirted back and for some reason Liu Kang, who you later learned wasn't actually drunk and just kept lying about the supposed vodka soda he was drinking, let you and his best friend continue to get more and more handsy with one another.

At the end of the night, Liu had dropped off you and Kung Lao at their temporary earthrealm lodge and gone to take Bo Rai Cho home since he was blackout drunk. At least you and Kung Lao could still stand. The second the door was closed and locked, he was on you. His hat was thrown to the side as his lips moulded perfectly with yours. You could taste all the alcohol he'd consumed and it only intoxicated you more. After spending half the time at the bar with his hand up your skirt, Kung Lao wanted the real thing. He had picked you up and set you on the table, laying you down and stripping everything off your bottom half. He eagerly explored the treasure between your legs with his fingers. Even when drunk, Kung Lao was precise with his movements. He brought you to the edge with just his fingers before licking your juices off of them and taking off just enough clothing to free his member and plunge it deep within you.

Everything was a blur after that. He was thick and scraped every euphoric nerve in your body with his movements. Your muscles burned and twitched with every groan and growl he let out, his mouth right next to your ear. It wasn't long before that delicious pressure built back up within you and snapped with a few well aimed thrusts. You remember the warm feeling spread through you as Kung Lao released inside, both of you too drunk to worry about protection beforehand. You laid in an uncomfortable position on the table until Kung Lao pulled out of you and stumbled to the bathroom. You were able to get up and clean yourself off a little, put your skirt back on, and collapse on the sofa. Which is exactly where Liu Kang found you when he got back. He let you sleep and took you back to your apartment in the morning after giving you some herbal pain remedies.

You didn't feel any different the next day, or the next week. You threw up a few times the day after, which you were sure was because of the amount of alcohol you consumed. A whole month and a half passed before your nosey roommate, Mia, brought up the idea that you might be pregnant. She had been keeping track of every strange thing you had done for the past month. From getting up to go to the bathroom in the night more than usual, to the random mood swings, to falling asleep at your desk, and eating pickles with hot fudge the other day. Not to mention, your period was three weeks late and you hadn't even noticed. Mia wanted answers, for you as well as herself, and had already bought you a pregnancy test which she promptly thrust at you.

Now, staring at the little stick that read 'pregnant' in plain English, it was all starting to hit you. You didn't go to see Kung Lao and Liu Kang very often. Once, maybe twice, a month if you weren't busy, to put it simply: you didn't know what to do. You heard knocking on the bathroom door before you heard Mia's voice. "You ok in there, hun?" You blinked back tears of confusion and answered her. "Yeah, I'm ok." You stuck the test in your pocket and exited the bathroom to find Mia standing right outside the door. "So, what's the verdict?" You didn't say anything and just handed her the stick. "I knew it, so who's the daddy?" You cocked an eyebrow at her blunt question but decided to answer. "One of my best friends," you said quietly. Her eyes widened as she handed the test back to you. "That's gonna be tough, how are you gonna do it?" You frowned. "Do what?" She shrugged, the nonchalant look on her face starting to annoy you. "Tell him, ya'know, that he knocked you up." You looked at the test in your hand, feeling the strong urge to just snap it in half. "I don't know."

~~~~

You waited two more months, deciding not to tell Kung Lao. He and Liu were your best friends, you didn't want anything to ruin that. You couldn't stay away from them forever, they were already wondering why you hadn't come over the last couple times they invited you. You sent them your work over the computer instead of in person, all the information you had been gathering about potential new champions. Just a few days ago Liu had called just to check in on you, thinking you might be sick or injured. You assured him you weren't but you knew you didn't convince him, he could spot a lie from a mile away.

You had started going to the doctor, getting the proper care and tests done to make sure you and the baby were healthy. You even had ultrasound pictures of your little one, that seemed to cement something in your mind. You needed to tell Kung Lao. Sooner rather than later, before you started showing, there was no hiding it then.

You called Liu Kang before you left and asked him if you could come stay at their place for a night or two. That concerned him a little bit but ultimately he was glad that you would be coming to see him and Kung Lao again. You packed for a couple days and drove for a few hours into the woods where the boy's temporary earthrealm residence was. It was secluded back in the woods along a river popular with fishermen in the morning hours. It blended in and allowed the boys to hide in plain sight, mixed in with the few other fishing cabins along the river. No outworld ruffian would look there.

You arrived at the cabin later than you wanted to, having stopped three times to use the restroom along the way. You had tried not to pack your bags that heavy but you needed clothes and you needed all your computer equipment for work. You grabbed the lightest bag you had and went inside, hoping one of the boys would be able to help you with the rest. The door was unlocked, as they had been expecting you, and you walked right in. You entered the living room and found that master Bo Rai Cho was also visiting. He was sat plopped in front of his new favorite thing ever since you introduced him to it, the television. You set your bag on the floor and he took notice of you. "Y/N!" He got out of his chair, fast for a man his size, and strode over, pulling you into a tight hug. "It's good to see you again." You winced in his tight hug until he let go and you smiled at him. "It's good to see you too, Master Cho." He returned the smile and clapped you on the shoulder before walking to an open window. "Liu Kang, your friend has arrived!" He shouted.

It was only a few seconds until Liu Kang came bounding into the room from outside. You smiled at him and he walked over to pull you into a hug, he almost seemed relieved to see you. "It is good to see you again," he said, pulling away. You half smiled and nodded. "It's good to see you too, Liu. Um, you mind helping me unload my stuff?" He agreed without a second thought and walked out to your car with you. You stopped by your trunk and swallowed hard, your muscles tense and nervous. How were you going to tell Kung Lao? "Is Kung Lao here? Usually I'd see him," you commented. Liu grabbed a few of the heavier bags, lifting them with ease. "No, he is out running errands. He should be back in an hour." You sighed and hung your head, not knowing what to think of that. "Is something wrong?" You took a deep breath and looked over at the concerned young man. "Liu, I need to talk to you."

You both unloaded your car before walking down by the river, through the small flower garden they'd planted. You both took a seat on top of the retaining wall, separating the river from the land. "Now, what do you wish to speak to me about?" Liu sat with his legs criss-crossed, perfectly relaxed. You tried sitting the same way but ultimately just dangled your legs over the wall. "Um, I know I haven't visited in a while, and there's a reason for that.." you stared at the water, avoiding eye contact. Though you could see Liu out of the corner of your eye, looking at you with a worried expression. "That night I crashed on your couch...did Kung Lao ever tell you what happened?" You hesitantly looked over at Liu and his eyes fell to the dirt. "Yes, he told me the day after." You looked back at the ground and sighed, Liu reached over and placed his hand on your knee. "There is no need to be ashamed, you were inebriated. Your judgement was clouded, both of yours." You closed your eyes trying to will yourself not to cry. "There's more to it.." you figured you just had to say it and blinked away tears, looking over at Liu who had his head tilted in curiosity. "Liu, I'm pregnant."

His mouth slowly dropped open as his mind processed the information. His gaze dropped to the ground and his reaction just made you feel worse. "I know, I'm sorry," you said. He looked back up at you. "It is not your fault," he squeezed your knee reassuringly, "this is Kung Lao's business now, you need to tell him." You sniffled and a tear managed to escape down your cheek. "I know, when he gets back will you tell him I need to talk to him? Maybe, give him and I some privacy so we can talk it out?" Liu nodded and gave you a small smile, "of course." You could tell Liu was still trying to comprehend what you told him as you both walked back to the house and he helped you settle in. He tried to strike up normal conversation but it was awkward, you felt like an outsider. After a while you offered to clean the place to try and distract yourself and neither of the men objected.

Kung Lao was gone for longer than expected but eventually he came back, Liu took him aside while you unpacked the groceries. You saw them standing in the corner talking though you couldn’t hear their words. You stared for a second and could read Liu’s lips. ‘Talk to her’ he was saying. You tried to calm yourself down and at the same time psyche yourself up for what you had to eventually tell Kung Lao.

You had just finished putting everything away when Kung Lao approached you. “Liu Kang said you needed to speak to me, privately,” he said. His tone was curious this time, not as serious as he usually was. “Yeah, can we..” you trailed off as you motioned outside. He nodded and waved for you to go first. You walked back out to the same spot you and Liu had sat earlier, on the retaining wall by the river. Kung Lao took off his hat and set it next to him, he knew it was easier for you to talk to him without it ever since you said it was distracting and you were staring at it instead of him. He smirked at the memory and looked back at you, waiting for you to speak.

“What did Liu tell you I needed to talk to you about?” You asked, wondering how to start the conversation. “He just said you needed to talk and that it was important,” he answered bluntly. You nodded and fiddled with the ultrasound pictures in your hoodie pocket. You had worn it to hide the tiny bump that had started to form over the last couple days. “Um, about that night a few months ago-” “I’m sorry,” he interrupted, “I know I should not have gone that far. We were both not ourselves that night.” You smirked. “No, I’m not complaining, but there’s more to it..” you sighed. “I’m not sure how to tell you this but..” you could see him becoming worried. You took one of the photos out of your pocket and handed it to him. He looked confused but took the blurry image, trying to figure out what it was. “You got me pregnant.”

His eyes widened and he looked over at you. “I’m sorry,” you said with a sad look on your face. You weren’t sure what compelled you to say it but you felt like you had just ruined someone’s life. You watched him as he stared at the picture, nothing was clearly visible but it must have seemed convincing enough to him. You slipped the pregnancy test out of your pocket and showed it to him too. You heard him sigh and just kept silent, not wanting to interrupt his thoughts. “How far along are you?” he finally asked, his voice scarily cold. “A little over three months,” you answered. You bit your lip before asking a question you needed an answer to. “What are we going to do?” He handed you the test and picture back. “I don’t know.” He said. You were hurt, he had nothing else to say? Your moment was interrupted by Bo Rai Cho calling out that dinner was ready.

Kung Lao helped you up and you walked inside together, he was silent the entire time. You made eye contact with Liu for a split second as you took a seat at the table and his shoulders fell, your expression gave away your emotions. Bo Rai Cho set down the meal, a kind of special fish concoction he had come up with that you normally loved. This time though, it made your stomach turn. The second the aroma hit your nose, nausea hit you badly and you could practically feel the vomit rising in your throat. “I’m sorry, excuse me,” you said quickly before getting up and dashing to the bathroom. You had just enough time to brush your hair out of the way before you emptied your stomach into the toilet.

“What might be wrong with her?” Bo Rai Cho asked. “I didn’t mess it up again, did I?” Liu looked at Kung Lao, his expression urging the other monk to go check on you since this was his doing. But Kung Lao stayed put and just stared back at Liu Kang, his expression unwavering. You could still be heard throwing up in the bathroom down the hall. Liu finally got up and went to check on you. He grabbed a cup of water and a wet cloth to clean off your face. “Lao?” You asked out loud between dry heaving breaths. “No, it’s me,” Liu answered. He kneeled down next to you and rubbed your back until your body finally stopped it’s rejection. “Why didn’t he come?” you asked, sounding defeated. “He does not know how to, right now. He will learn soon," Liu tried to assure you. "He doesn't want any part of this, I know he doesn't," you admitted as you slumped into the corner. Liu handed you the glass of water and watched as you downed it all, thinking. "He will come around, I will talk to him."

You spent the rest of the night in the spare bedroom, hiding and crying. The realization that if Kung Lao didn't help, you'd basically be left alone to raise a child and that idea terrified you. You hoped Liu could talk some sense into him. You loved Kung Lao, only you didn't know how to tell him. The thought of him completely rejecting you because of this was heartbreaking, you wished there was a better solution or any solution at all. Bo Rai Cho felt bad that his cooking had made you sick and made up for it by making you some calming tea and getting you anything you wanted. But the thing you wanted most was Kung Lao back.

You barely slept that night and asked Liu if he could bring your breakfast to your room. You could smell how good it was from your room but you didn't want to get up, you just wanted to hide. Someone knocked on the door and you called out for them to come in. You expected it to be Liu Kang with your breakfast, but Kung Lao had brought it instead. You immediately looked away from him, all the shame and embarrassment coming back. "May I sit?" He asked. You shyly nodded and allowed him to sit on the edge of the bed and hand you your food. "I thought Liu was bringing me breakfast." You wondered out loud. "I wanted to," he said, "I need to apologize for yesterday. I reacted badly." You shrugged. "You reacted normally to shocking news," you replied, slowly starting to eat your food. Kung Lao looked at the floor as he thought about what to say. "I thought about it all last night and...I want to be a part of it. I'm not going to let you do this alone."

Your eyes locked with his and you could see the sincerity in them. You couldn't believe it, your eyes welled up with happy tears. "You're serious? You want to help me?" You questioned. A small smirk came to his face and he took one of your hands in his. "Yes. This is something that will affect us for the rest of our lives. I want to be a part of my child's life." You set your food aside and threw your arms around Kung Lao, hugging him. He was caught off guard but hugged you back. "We can do this," he whispered in your ear. "When is your next doctor appointment, I want to be there." You pulled away just enough to see his face. "Not for another month, are you sure?" He nodded. "I think it's about time I showed up to one," he said with a smirk.

~~~~

You met Kung Lao in the hospital lobby and checked in with him, finally glad to have him with you. It was a lot less embarrassing and anxiety inducing, despite the fact that most people were staring at his hat. He stayed by your side with one hand on the middle of your back protectively all the way up to the correct floor, where you had to check in again.

"I'm here for an ultrasound appointment," you said to the receptionist. "Alright," she said, glancing questionably at Kung Lao. You smirked to yourself, he was intimidating. Nobody would dare fuck with you while Kung Lao was at your side. "And who have you brought with you today?" The woman asked, looking again at Kung Lao. You opened your mouth to speak but he beat you to it. "I'm her boyfriend, and the father," he answered. The woman nodded and went back to her computer. You turned your head to look at him, a huge smile coming to your face. Not wanting to give anything away, Kung Lao just looked at you and winked.

The receptionist got you checked in and you both sat down to wait for your name to be called. You leaned close to him and whispered. "Boyfriend, huh?" He smirked. "It was the only way I could think to tell you," he said, his tone of voice giving away his teasing. You giggled and rested your head on his shoulder, happy when he put his arm around you in return. Your name was called and you both walked back to an exam room. Kung Lao took off his hat and leaned it against the wall, the room was small and he didn't want to accidentally cut anyone.

The nurse took your vitals and asked you a few questions before leaving you and Kung Lao to wait for the doctor. "Can I see it?" You turned to look at him. "See what?" He uncrossed his arms. "The baby." "You will be able to see it on the ultrasound-" he shook his head, interrupting your sentence. "No, your stomach," he clarified. You understood now and laid back on the table, pulling your shirt up to expose your stomach. Now on month five, your bump was getting increasingly hard to hide.

"Can I touch?" He asked. You nodded with a smile, his curiosity and interest was adorable. Kung Lao placed his hand on your stomach and after a moment he began to rub it around. A sudden discomfort peaked in your stomach area and you looked at Kung Lao, who was as surprised as you. "Was that.." you put your hand on your stomach right next to his and after a couple seconds the discomforting, tiny jolt happened again. "It's kicking!" You beamed, “this is the first time I’ve ever felt it.” Kung Lao took your free hand in his, the look on his face seemed genuinely happy this time. “That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt,” he said. “Besides the night we made this happen, that is.” You let out an actual laugh, there was the Kung Lao you knew.

The doctor came in and set you all up for the ultrasound. Kung Lao waited impatiently by your side. “The gender should be visible if the baby cooperates, would you like to know?” The doctor asked. You exchanged looks with Kung Lao and came to a conclusion. “Yes, we would like to know,” Kung Lao answered. The doctor nodded and Kung Lao held your hand as the doctor moved the device around your gel covered stomach. The doctor let you both see the screen as they looked around, pointing out things and details that made no sense to you. As long as the baby was healthy that was all that mattered to you.

The doctor finally removed the device and handed you tissue to wipe off your skin. “Looks like he’s all good in there, just stick to what you’re doing and take it easy,” the doctor said. You smiled, “he?” You looked at Kung Lao who looked back at you with a smile. “We’re having a baby boy..” Kung Lao didn’t think, he just pulled you into a tight hug. He’d never been happier in his life. He was going to be a father to a little boy, one he could teach everything he knew, one he could get his own little hat. Everything would be perfect. He kissed your cheek. “I can’t wait to tell Liu Kang.”

[monaisdark]

i like how u write Shigaraki 😳❤ can u do maybe some bully reader with a sprinkle of virgin!shiggy hehe 🥰 reader can be dom or sub its up to you!! ❤

AH i’ve been meaning to check my inbox but ommmg this motivates me so much, thank you ! <3 I decided to do some dom reader - hope its ok!

➨ paring — Virgin! Tomura Shigaraki x Fem! Bully! Reader 

➨ warnings —  Sub! Shigaraki, Dom! Reader, slight mommy kink, slight masturbation, humiliation, degradation, cum denial, begging

PART 2

Shigaraki slumped into the ground, his back against the now wet wall. It hasn’t even been 3rd period yet and you already completely ruined his day. You and your group of followers threw water at him, something about him smelling bad. His papers and books were thrown out of his bag, soggy and falling apart from the water poured on them and his favorite hoodie now uncomfortably wet. 

Shigaraki would already be late to class by now so he didn’t bother to scurry off like your friends did when they heard the late bell for class. You walked a bit behind them, turning your head back at him a few times before completely disappearing down the hall. 

Shigaraki wasn’t sure what he did for you to hate him so much. It was almost like you were out to get him since day one. And of course, you being so popular, it made him the school outcast, well, even more of an outcast.

He tried everything — ignoring you, doing everything you asked him, even trying to fight back. The last try left him with a sprained wrist and bruised cheek. So in the end, everything left him either humiliated, damaged, or hurt. 

He finally stood up as he heard footsteps from a hall monitor coming down the hall he was in, grabbing his backpack that contained the remaining contents of his school stuff before running off into a nearby bathroom to hide. Luckily, nobody was there to see how disheveled he looked.

Shigaraki took off his hoodie, thankfully the hoodie was thick and caught most of the water, leaving his long sleeved undershirt a bit damp but nothing he couldn’t handle for the rest of the day. He set everything wet under the hand drier, letting the hot air dry them a bit. 

As he dried his face, something at on the floor caught Shigaraki’s eye. It was a small piece of paper that was also damp. He picked it up confused, did it fall out of his hoodie pocket? 

‘’Shigaraki, meet me in room 204 after school today. Be there.’’  He could read out from the smudged, running ink. Shigaraki looked at it confused, yeah it was definitely for him but why? How did this even get into his pocket? He’s usually always alone, he didn’t hang out or spend his school days with anyone.

“Hey! Get to class!” The voice of the hall monitor outside of the bathroom almost made him yelp. He stuffed the note into his back pocket, grabbing all his stuff that was thankfully a bit more dry before leaving.

You eyed Shigaraki from across the cafeteria, a small smirk tugged your lips as you saw him pull out the tiny piece of paper for the 12th time that lunch. A wave of satisfaction overcame you every time you saw his eyebrows furrowed at the paper. 

You tried to make the note as vague as possible, you could tell from the confused look on his face that he didn’t have a clue on who sent it. Just how you wanted it.

You turned your thoughts back to your friends, mixing your laughter with theirs. You had no idea what they were laughing at. These people are assholes, why do you hang out with them again? A small boy whimpered on the floor, his food spilled all over his body. Oh, that's why. Like hell you’d be on the receiving end of their bullying.

It’s not like you felt bad. School was a hierarchy, these poor people were just at the bottom. When you first got here, you quickly rose to be at the top. Not like you expected to be anything less. You held yourself to a high standard, of course you’d be at the top.

So it made you sick seeing how some of these people held themselves, especially Shigaraki. He looked and smelled like he only showers every other day, he alternated between 2 hoodies each week, did he even bother to wash them?

He barely talked to anyone, usually playing some videogame on his phone. Does he not care about himself? Well maybe that was why you targeted him, you just wanted him to be better. Nothing else.

Then you noticed how much of a pervert he was. If a girl was ever near him, his eyes would automatically shoot to their chests before awkwardly shifting away from them. In P.E, you found it funny how he’d try to hide his boners after seeing all the girls in their shorts. How gross, he’s a horny little virgin.

You almost felt bad, maybe if he smelt better, maybe if he wore better clothes, maybe if he just tried to take care of himself. It was no surprise that he wasn’t getting chicks. But then again, he didn’t look too confident in anything. Yet alone girls.

That’s when you had came up with a plan. You’d sleep with him. Don’t get it wrong, you had dignity. If it was anyone else, you’d probably make fun of them even more, maybe even expose their perverted behavior.

But Shigaraki looked so helpless, if he kept up with this he’d never get better. Maybe he’d become desperate enough to start touching girls on the train to school, how disgusting.

You were doing everyone a favor. This is just charity work.

“Hey.” Shigaraki jumped, what? He was even more confused then before, you? Why would you send him a letter to meet him alone after school? He stayed quiet, he backed into a desk as he heard the click of the door. Locked, shit, you locked the door. You probably were gonna beat him up, usually you’d have other people pick on him, was today finally the day you’d take more action?

“Stop sweating, I’m not here to do anything bad.” You walked in front of him, Shigaraki would be lying if he said he wasn’t terrified. “Um — why.. why did you want to meet me?” Shigaraki’s voice cracked and you almost laughed, has he ever even been alone in the same room as girl?

You decided to be blunt, there was no sugar coating what was about to happen. “You’re a virgin right, Shigaraki?” You brought your hands to the buttons of your shirt, slowly unbuttoning your top.

Shigaraki immediately felt himself starting to get hard at the sight of your bra. “What—” You rolled your eyes, doesn’t he get it? How dense can he be? “Just answer me.” 

Shigaraki felt so humiliated, this was honestly worse then all the bullying he experienced from you. He has to admit to his bully that he’s a virgin, or better yet, that he’s never even gotten close touching a woman.

He couldn’t lie, I mean look at him! The most action he’s gotten was those JOI videos he’d watch late at night. “Yeah..” He whispered enough for you to hear, just incase anyone else was hiding in the room. “..Why?” 

A smirk spread across your face, just like you thought. His red face was honestly so enjoyable to see, almost just as enjoyable as seeing him try to hide how hard he was.

“I know you’re hard, Shigaraki.” Your hands moved to his crotch, palming him. “Ah, ah! Wait! I’m—“  Holy shit, did he cum? Just from a bit of palming?

Your hands retracted from the damp fabric, “God, how pathetic can you be?” Shigaraki lowered his head, you didn’t want to know. You’re the first girl to ever touch him, he didn’t want to come that fast!

“I’m sorry! Please.. I’m still hard!” Now he’s begging? He was ready for you to laugh at him and leave him a gross mess. He would understand.

“Take it out.” Shigaraki could cry right there, you were serious! He didn’t know what made you want to do this now but he didn’t care. All that matter’s was you wanted to fuck him.

His mind flooded to what you guys could do, would you rub his now exposed dick? Would you take it in your mouth? Better yet, what could he do to you? He’ll learn quickly, he just wants to touch your boobs!

Suddenly, he was on the floor. He couldn’t even process what was going on before you straddled him. We’re skipping straight to it? This wasn’t necessarily what he saw in those porn videos but that’s okay. His hands moved to your chest, he saw this in the porn videos too! But your hand slapped his away, “Don’t touch me. You still stink.” 

He frowned but it was quickly gone as he felt you lower yourself on him. Shit, shit, shit, he’s inside you! Inside a pussy! You already started moving and Shigaraki already lost it. This was better than what he could ever imagine! 

You smirked at the scene, its barely been a minute and he’s out of it. His eyes were rolled back and he was moaning louder than you! You had to admit though, you were a bit surprised he even got past 30 seconds of being inside of you. 

“Mhmm— m...mommy!” Now you could laugh, “Mommy? Really Shigaraki?” Tears were forming on the corner of his eyes, you weren’t sure if it was from your words or the pleasure but you preferred if it was from both.

“I’m sorry! It’s just— ah!” You angled yourself to hit deeper, “No, no, Shigaraki. Go ahead. I should’ve known you’d be into something like that.” His moans filled the room, you were lucky this hallway was always empty after school was done.

You felt him begin to twitch, already knowing he’s about to cum. Eyes narrowed down at his messy face, he’s trying to cum inside you without you knowing? 

You stopped moving and brought him up so he wasn’t laying down anymore, “Y’know, for a virgin I’m a bit impressed.” Shigaraki whimpered when he felt you get off of him, the feeling of your warm cunt no longer around him.

“Wait! Please, please— I wasn’t done!” He whined watching you put your panties back on and button your shirt back up, “You were about to. You think I want your battery acid cum touching me?” 

Snickering as he heard his desperate whimpers begging you to finish him off, an overwhelming feeling of power filled you. A fake annoyed sigh caught his attention, “Take a shower tomorrow. Also wear a different top for god’s sake. If you do— “You brought yourself to his level on the floor, “I might let you touch me.” 

Shigaraki nodded furiously, “Yes! I promise! I will, I will!” You turned and unlocked to the door to leave, catching one more look at his messy state. A sigh was let out of you as you closed the door, the sounds of him moaning ‘mommy’s pussy’ as he finished himself off, made you giggle. How sad.

You rolled your eyes, clicking heels down the hallway. You might’ve just created a new problem for yourself. 

[parcequecestnotreprojeeeet]

Hi. It’s me, Fanfic Anon #2. First, EMT, I am so sorry if you felt pressured or anything to publish before you were ready. You have no obligation to post anything I send you ever (and if you ever get mad at me or want me to stop, you can just tell me, I promise I can take a hint!). Without boring you with too much detail, a lot of things I was sending from my phone this weekend were telling me they sent when they never went through so I was afraid that happened here, that’s why I was asking.

Second, I’m going to be traveling home for Christmas on Wednesday, but since I’ve been sitting on this story for that day since there was a conversation awhile back about a certain blonde actress, a song, and a birthday, I wanted to send this in now to make sure I didn’t miss my window. He doesn’t read your blog (not that it isn’t great EMT, but he doesn’t seem like a Tumblr guy to me, Brigitte on the other hand… ha ha), but just in case, happy birthday, Monsieur. 😉

She felt a little stupid as she stood there, trying to psych herself up after she had put the finishing touches to her ensemble. This has been long in the planning, a playful surprise she hoped he’d enjoy, a little gift to mark the day and pull him away from his desk, at least for the next 24 hours. But who was she kidding, really. Even in her prime, she wasn’t anywhere near this woman’s all too famous beauty.

She looks down at her beloved watch, a gift from him, lying on the bathroom counter where she’s placed it, noting the time - just past 1 am, and he still has not come home.

"That’s it, Brigitte," she talked to herself, staring herself down in the mirror with renewed determination, choosing to focus on the love, not the fear, "time to go get him." Appraising her outfit one last time, a lacy white night gown, that while not the sparkling nude dress of the original scene she’ll be trying to recreate tonight, was Marylin enough.

She walked quickly through the short hallways that connected their private apartment and his main office (one of the main advantages of that space being the easy, private, secret way they could get from their home to his office, undetected by any of their nosy staff) before she lost her nerve. She knocked once and waited for the usual, "all clear, chérie," before entering, really not wanting, or needing, anyone else to see her like this.

"I know, I know, it’s late. I should -" he had started talking before he had fully turned around to lay eyes on his wife, his brain short circuiting a little when he finally did so. "Brigitte," he whispered in more than a little awe as he took in the sight of her before him - his wife was truly stunning, and once again he found himself asking how on earth did he get so lucky.

"Don’t move," she warned.

"What do you mean?"

"Just sit there, okay? I have this whole thing planned out. Just enjoy it, ok?"

"Okay," he replied more than a little confused.

The confusion only lasted for a short moment as he heard his wife strike up a very accented, very breathy rendition of "Happy Birthday, Mr. President," as it melted very quickly into an all-encompassing feeling of love for this incredible woman in front of him, turning into a little more than that as he felt her settle into his lap at the grand finale.

"Happy birthday, mon cœur," she wished him a few moments after it had ended, the two of them looking at each other in a meaningful silence, moving her left hand to gently stroke his cheek, the cool metal of her wedding band it’s own sharp brand cutting through the dreamlike state, grounding him in the reality of the moment.

"Thank you, Marylin," he replied with a teasing smile.

"I’m not Marylin," she replied, ducking her head a little.

"Hey, none of that. And it’s my birthday now, I guess, I haven’t checked the time -"

"It’s after 1."

"It’s my birthday, so you have to listen to me."

"Oh do I now?" she challenged, not willing to let that comment go uncommented upon, even if it was his birthday.

"On this you do," he replied seriously, not taking her teasing bait. "You’re my Marylin."

"Well, this was meant to motivate you to come to bed, so what do you say. Can you step away?"

"Oh. Yeah. I’m highly motivated."

"Then, let’s go, birthday boy," she said starting to get up from his lap, only to be stopped by his hands on her hips, pulling her back down.

"Or -"

"Or, what?"

"Or, we could stay here for a bit and not work."

"What kind of ‘not work’ do you have in mind?"

"Here. Let me show you,” he smirked as he worked on “unwrapping” the best gift he’d ever received.

Helloooo fanfic Anon #2! ❤️

Absolutely no problem at all!

Hope you have a nice Christmas time back home with your family! ❤️

Hahaha I’m sure neither of them (or anyone on their team) reads my blog!

What an adorable and sexy piece 🥰😏 I just imagine Emmanuel’s reaction to this hahaha completely melting at Brigitte 🤤

I bet he never was as motivated and happy to “work” late at the office as in that moment 🤭😏

Thank you so much, fanfic Anon #2! ❤️❤️❤️

[malum-forev]

Try Anything Once

BuckyBarnes x Reader

Bucky finds himself at the worse place, the doctor’s office. But maybe it isn’t as bad as he thought.

Word Count: 2.6k

There were many things that brought James Buchanan Barnes rage, but at the top of his list was his mechanical arm. It was bad enough that it was a constant reminder of who he was, who he was created to be, but now due to a technical failure, it was even more of an inconvenience.

“I already told you that it’s fine.” He muttered at Sam, trying to open and close his palm, with no avail.

“Yeah, and if I were blind, I would believe that. You need to get that thing fixed. Maybe it just needs some motor oil.” He said followed by a loud laugh, only making Bucky’s eyes roll. “I already reported it to the medical department, anyways.”

“What are doctors going to tell me about this thing, it’s not flesh. They don’t know anything about it.”

“Well, I mean, we do have the best doctors in the world. I think they know something about that contraption.” Sam replied, standing up from his position and traveling to the front of the airplane to see how long it would take them to get back to the compound.

Bucky closed his eyes, trying to calm the bubbling anger that was filling him up, almost to the point of explosion. It was supposed to be the best, why would it be giving him trouble. Subsiding his anger, he thought that maybe he would have to go to Wakanda to get it fixed. Maybe he would even have to stay there for some time, he could only dream of that. In the past 80 years, that was the only time he felt something close to peace. Forcing his eyes to open, he realized that the plane was descending. Looking out the window, he saw what he dreaded the most. A team of people in white bathrobes.

“Doctors.” Bucky huffed in annoyance.

As he made his way through the white corridors with fluorescent lighting, he could hear at least three pairs of feet shuffling behind him. He could almost sense they were too nervous to ask him any questions. He stopped at the end of the hallway and waited for three seconds before turning around to face them.

“Well? Are you going to open this stupid door, or do I have to break it to get this thing fixed?” He yelled, not feeling anything as he saw the three young doctors shake and vigorously nod their heads. The tallest one, she couldn’t be a day older than 25, quickly entered the access code and opened the door. Revealing a large waiting room with one assistant behind a desk. He heard the elevator music first, after that came a whiff of something. Some kind of flower Bucky couldn’t recognize.

“I have an appointment.” Was the only thing he said as the assistant moved his eyes away from the computer and saw the former Winter Soldier. He was different, he wasn’t scared of Bucky.

“Name and date of birth please.” He asked kindly as he faced back to the computer.

“This must be a joke.” Bucky said, as he watched the assistant’s motionless expression, he realized it wasn’t. “James Buchanan Barnes, March 10th, 1917.”

“Thank you, Dr. (y/l/n) will be with you shortly. Would you like anything to drink while you wait?” He smiled again, only enraging Bucky even more. He decided no answer was needed. After about two minutes, he saw the door swing open and a field agent came out first.

“Thank you so much Doc.” She smiled, Bucky had seen her before if he remembers well, she even introduced herself. But like always, he never remembered anyone’s name. She smiled as she passed him, and he just nodded back. After the agent, a woman in that dreaded white bathrobe came out. Average build, fragile looking, late twenties, it would take me less than two seconds to knock her off the ground. Bucky thought, immediately erasing the thought from his mind, something his therapist had taught him to do.

“Mr. Barnes, please come inside.” She said, her voice was extremely peaceful and calm. Everything about her seemed that way. It was as if one of those singing birds from Snow White had come out of the storybook and became a human. Bucky followed her into her office and sat down, looking at the pendulum sitting on top of her neatly organized desk. Swinging back and forth infinitely. “You’re here because your arm is giving you trouble?”

“The metal one.” Was the only thing he said, she just nodded and motioned him to sit on the exam table, “I’m not laying on that. I’m not five.”

“You’re obviously not five, you were born in 1917.” She quickly replied. “If anything, I should have you sitting on a wheelchair, or one of those reclining chairs they have elderly people in. I need you to lay down here to check your prosthetic. I also need you to remove your jacket, and anything that would obstruct me from performing my analysis.”

With a quick glare, he followed her instructions. He took his jacket off and without thinking twice, ripped the sleeve from his t-shirt.

Laughing a bit, the doctor started contorting his arm in different directions. “You superheroes really have a passion for all things dramatic. You could have taken off your shirt.”

“This was easier.”

“Not much of a talker, are you?” she said before pressing on a disk near the arm’s wrist. Gaining a hiss from the former assassin.

“Could you just stop.” He said in an annoyed tone. “I’m just here because your people were waiting for me once I got off the damn plane. Now stop messing with it before you break my arm.”

With one swoop motion, he was back on his feet. “This is made from an incredible rare material. Something that they probably didn’t even know existed at whatever school you got your degree from. Which one was it?” Bucky said, getting more and more angry as he saw the doctor didn’t even flinch at what he was saying. He started looking around the walls to see where she had that paper framed. The one every doctor likes to display, as if it was some sort of badge.

“I don’t have a medical degree. You can say this comes,” Dr. (y/l/n) took a pause. “Naturally to me.”

Bucky let out a small laugh. “I’m fine. And even if I wasn’t, I’m not going to have some random person who couldn’t even finish med school looking at my arm. It’s probably more expensive than everything you own.

Dr. (y/l/n)’s expression didn’t change, the small smile still on her mouth. “Pepper’s team warned me about you, Mr. Barnes. They said you were, difficult.”

“Difficult.” Bucky scoffed as he leaned on the medical table, he watched the doctor move back behind her desk. Typing something on her computer, the printer slowly coming to life, sending out a small piece of paper.

“Well, they actually said you were a huge pain. Difficult is just the word I choose to use.” She adjusted her glasses and read what was on the paper, taking out a pen and signing it.

“It really shows that after Steve left, this place started hiring just about anybody. Their whole system is going to fall apart if they keep uncredited people here.” Bucky spat out, aggravated at the mere thought that Sam would have sent you here with her.

“You’re not completely wrong with that statement. But I don’t think it was after Steve, it was before that. At one point they even recruited brain washed assassins.” The doctor replied with a grin on her face, only making Bucky’s blood boil even more. “Try this, it will help with regaining mobility.”

Bucky ripped the paper out of the doctor’s hand, crumpling it up and shoving it in his back pocket. Turning around to leave the office.

“Oh and Mr. Barnes, you have to come back to finish the assessment before you can go back into the field. Those are the orders stated by Mr. Wilson.” Again, that smug smile adorning her face. Does she always have something to say? Bucky thought as he stormed out of the medical building, heading straight to Sam’s room. He was going to hear what Bucky had to say about that know-nothing fake doctor.

Bucky heard Sam’s laugh before he actually saw him, as the automatic doors opened, he saw that the laughter was directed towards him.

“I’m guessing by your angrier than usual glare, you saw (y/n).” Sam said with a gigantic smile.

“Was that some sort of prank? You hired a fake doctor only for me to go and waste my time?” Bucky asked as he strode past him walking straight into the kitchen.

“What did you have planned for the rest of the day? Sitting on the corner of your bed at three pm, standing in a corner at four and do your hair at five? I know you do your hair, it’s impossible for it to always be perfectly imperfect.” Sam said shooting Bucky a questioning gaze, but he just rolled his eyes and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. “And what are you talking about fake doctor? Please tell me you let her do her job, if not I can’t let you come on the mission tomorrow.”

“Of course I didn’t, tomorrow I’m going to see an actual doctor to get a stupid note that says I’m fine! Even though I’m telling you right now that I’M FINE.” He yelled as he smashed down the bottle, making it as flat as a piece of paper.

It was at this specific moment that F.R.I.D.A.Y. said: “Bucky Barnes, you have an appointment with your therapist tomorrow at 11:30 am. If you were to miss this appointment, you will be sanctioned and will not be able to assist on missions.”

This obviously sent Sam on a fit of laughter. “That message couldn’t have come at a better time. Anyways, you need to get your appointments aligned. I suggest you go to the Doc’s office tomorrow morning to see if she has anything available.”

“Just send me the actual doctor’s office and I’ll be there tomorrow morning.” He said through gritted teeth.

“Bucky, I don’t know who got it into your head but, (y/n) is an actual doctor. That why she’s Dr. (y/l/n) and not just (y/n).”

“She was the one who told me she’s not credited. She doesn’t even have a medical degree, let alone know anything about vibranium!” Bucky said throwing his hands up in the air.

“You don’t have a degree but that doesn’t mean you’re not capable of being an ass. And an annoying one too!” Sam said, getting frustrated with the conversation. “Look, Dr. (y/n) has been here for a long time, she knows what she’s doing. Maybe you don’t know anything about her because you were frozen for half of your life and the other half you spent being a cyborg assassin. Also, she was one of the first people to handle vibranium when it was found in Wakanda, so I think she knows something about that. She even spent some time in a hut over there, just like you! You have more things in common than you think. So, tomorrow you’re gonna get her some coffee, go to her office, apologize for being, well, you; and get that arm fixed. In the meantime, you can look up some things about her. You do remember how to google things right?”

“Of course I remember. Could you just help me get on the net?” Bucky said while holding out his phone, it was now Sam’s turn to roll his eyes.

--------

The next morning, Bucky reluctantly made his way back to the medical building. The two disposable coffee cups were almost knocked out of his hands when the doors swung open.

“Back already Mr. Barnes?” he heard Dr. (y/l/n) say, it surprised him that she would talk so casually with him, given that yesterday he was, difficult. “Should I put down extra thirsty as a side effect on your chart?” She asked pointing to both of the cups.

“Actually Doctor, one of them is for you. I didn’t know what you drank so one is a black coffee and the other one has a splash of milk and sugar. Sam told me you would accept coffee as an apology, some sort of olive branch.” Bucky said, shoving both of the cups near her for her to choose.

“You can take me to get coffee instead. Judging by the stale smell, this is day old coffee. Plus, I don’t think you have tried oat milk lattes.” She smiled as she guided him to the restaurant inside the compound.

“Oat milk wasn’t a thing in the 40’s.” Was all that Bucky replied. “I wanted to formally apologize. It’s something new to me, my therapist says I should externalize my feelings more. I did not know your past; you know with the whole regenerative thing.”

This was the first time he saw her not smile. She looked away for a moment and asked “Did you try what I told you. It’s a type of oil that seeps into the smallest indentations in vibranium, creating a protective layer. With that, and some rehabilitation exercises, you will feel as good as new.”

Bucky just shook his head, not wanting to talk about his less than normal extremity. He opened his mouth to ask her, but she interrupted. “I know what you’re going to ask me. I may not be able to read minds but this profession has taught me many things, one of them being how to read people’s expressions.”

“Can you still do it?” He pressed on, if what he had read was true, then she was probably one of the only people that could understand what he was feeling.

“Yes, of course I can. As a supersoldier I would think you understood. It’s not something that you can just turn off, it’s here forever.” She said pointing to her whole body. “I didn’t want this; I didn’t ask to be able to regenerate. I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time and with the wrong people.”

“I researched you last night.” Bucky admitted shooting her a shy smile.

“Didn’t think you were tech-savvy.” She said, taking a sip of her coffee. “That was a long time ago, she’s long gone. I thought what I was doing was the right thing. And he, he convinced me that it was. But alas, I was only some sort of protection. Receiving the bullets that would wound him and healing the cuts that would kill him. But after I realized all the damage, we were actually doing I, I found this place. And from there on I decided I was going to heal other people. Even if they couldn’t regenerate.”

“I can relate.” Bucky said, slouching back on the bench they were sitting on, a weird feeling appearing inside of him. Something that he wasn’t used to, relaxation and peace. “I appreciate you not flipping out yesterday, I was out of line.”

“I’ve dealt with worse people here.” She laughed. “I looked at your videos fighting. You need to take better care of that arm of yours.”

“I didn’t know you were keeping tabs on me Doc, had I known I would have smiled at the camera.” Bucky said shooting her a smile, it was the first time she had seen him actually do that.

“It’s my job to check my patient’s whole file.” She explained but couldn’t resist to smile back. “And you can call me (y/n) by the way.”

“In that case, call me Bucky.”

[lepusrufus]

Double edged scalpel ch.4

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3

Summary: Daniela wingman Dimitrescu

---

Who knew that a door could look so intimidating. The dark wood decorated with golden floral patterns and the Dimitrescu crest in the middle wasn’t unlike most other doors in the castle. This door however had one big difference from the rest: it was the door to Cassandra’s bedroom.

Nicole had crossed paths with Daniela earlier, who wasted no time in placing the duty of fetching the middle sister for dinner upon her. Oh well. She was supposed to meet the brunette anyways. Tomorrow at sundown, Cassandra had said. And that was just after dinner. But the lingering feeling of their lips together, deep in a hidden nook in the garden, left Nicole unsure on what to expect from her.

With a final deep breath, she knocked on the door.

It was silent for a few long seconds. She was about to knock again, sure that Cassandra was still sleeping, but was stopped by a groggy reply that she took as her cue to enter.

“Lady Daniela sent me to let you know dinner will be ready soon.”

Nicole had a split second when she regretted each and every decision that led up to that very moment when she noticed the brunette stirring awake, naked body thankfully covered by soft blankets. Cassandra didn’t seem to mind though, as she yawned and stretched her arms like a lazy cat would.

“That’s a weird way to say Daniela is lazy and sent you to do her job.” She grabbed her watch from the nightstand. “Ugh, it’s early.” It’s 7 p.m.

From where she stood, looking anywhere but at the brunette, Nicole wasn’t sure how to respond. It’s not as if she could’ve said no to Daniela’s request. Or, to be more accurate, order. Apparently Cassandra didn’t wait for a reply, as she got out of bed and shuffled to her dresser, hopefully to put some clothes on. With one of her typical black dresses now on, she tiptoed to the other occupant in the room.

“Modest, are we,” she said, placing her hands on Nicole’s waist, not unlike she did many times before.

“Just trying not to get my eyes gouged out.” Hopefully Cassandra still appreciated her humor.

The brunette slowly spinned the other girl around so she could look in her eyes, as if she were a child inspecting a newly received christmas gift. “Mm...you can keep them. Now come on, spend some time with me since Dani insisted on you waking me up so early.”

Thanks Daniela.

Nicole felt herself get pulled further into the room, barely having time to take in all the trinkets and decor inside before she was tugged down to sit in Cassandra’s lap.

Well… best possible scenario.

This time there was no hesitation when their lips connected, one hand finding its place at the brunette's nape, pulling her close. Cassandra let out a small moan when she felt nails scratch lightly against her scalp, which Nicole took as an opportunity to slip her tongue past black painted lips. They kissed until Cassandra pulled back, opting instead to leave a trail of kisses and black lipstick on her jawline, down her throat, and finally her collarbone. The kisses were getting increasingly more aggressive, with nips at the skin and finally teeth dragging at the crook of Nicole's neck.

Cassandra inhaled deeply but pulled her mouth away from the skin, resting her forehead against that spot instead. When she spoke, her tone was dripping with barely held back desire.

"If you want me to stop, you should go."

Oh no, Nicole didn't just shove her tongue in her god damn mouth for them to stop. Whatever crumble of self preservation was left within her, it got booted out the metaphorical front door of her brain the moment she got pulled into the brunette's lap. The only thing that made her hesitate for a second was whether or not Cassandra could bite someone without actually killing them.

"Do not go near the jugular.”

And Cassandra listened. She dragged her teeth from the neck, down to the shoulder and, after an uncharacteristically gentle kiss to the spot, she sunk her now sharp fangs in the flesh.

Nicole couldn't stop a whimper from escaping past her lips at the sudden jolt of pain. But the sensation of soft lips on her skin and Cassandra's low moan at the taste of her blood made for the perfect mixture of pleasure and pain.

"Cassa- ah," she moaned her name, fingers tangled in black hair which only seemed to spur her on.

The pain steadily faded, leaving behind only a tingling sensation. It stopped her brain from putting together any coherent thought, almost as if being drunk without the actual alcohol. But blood loss instead. Nicole tugged lightly on Cassandra's hair when dizziness started to make itself present. When that did nothing, she pulled with slightly more force.

"Cassandra-" she let out a pained groan, mild panic slipping into her voice.

That made the brunette snap out of it, forcefully pulling herself back and eyeing the bloody mess on Nicole's shoulder. She caught the redhead by the arms for support when she slumped forward slightly, pinching the bridge of her nose with a soft ugh. How much blood can a human lose again? Fourteen percent? And Nicole was also quite small.

Cassandra stretched to grab a tissue from the nightstand and pressed it against the puncture wounds, frowning when Nicole flinched at the pain it caused.

"Uh...are you okay?"

Nicole took a deep breath before replying. "-m good. You should...uh go though. I'll go lay down and-...and meet you after dinner." Then she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment to try to alleviate the dizziness and tried to stand up.

Cassandra grimaced at how wobbly Nicole's movement's were and guided her back down, on the soft mattress. The redhead didn't protest, not that she really could anyways.

"No. Stay here, you're no good if you just fall and crack your skull open against a stairwell."

"But-"

Cassandra ignored her, only pushing her down to rest against one of the many pillows littering the bed. "No buts, this is an order from your lady. Now take a nap or something and I'll fetch you after dinner."

Nicole saw her turn around and exit the room, door shutting with a heavy thump. She felt too dizzy to try and fight back. And after all, why would she? The bed was incredibly soft, almost as if it was cradling her small body, inviting her to fall asleep. She slowly pulled one of the blankets up to her waist and positioned herself in such a way that the tissue wouldn't fall from her shoulder. A short nap was all she needed, then she'd be up by the time dinner was done. It only took shutting her eyes for a few seconds to fall asleep, the haze in her mind receding into comforting nothingness.

---

Hot. She felt so incredibly hot. How could Cassandra sleep amongst all these pillows and blankets in the middle of August?

She groaned and stirred, tissue forgotten and covered in dry blood by now. She turned around, trying to find a colder spot and sighed contently upon finding a cool pillow to bury her face into.

Since when did pillows hum?

Nicole snapped her eyes open and jerked backwards, realizing that the "pillow" was Cassandra's side, who apparently had returned from dinner and was now laying in bed with a book.

"I- I'm sorry! I think I overslept and-"

She was interrupted by a slender finger on her lips.

"Get back here, you're so warm."

Too warm, Nicole almost replied but Cassandra's hand mowed from her lips to trace her jawline and neck. Then,when it got to her nape, she pulled the redhead back on her chest, cheek resting on the cool skin.

Nicole froze for a moment but soon melted into the touch. Presumably one of the perks of being an undead being was never getting too hot. At least temperature-wise. She tentatively snaked an arm around the brunette's waist and, when there was no protest, she shifted her body closer against hers.

Checking the time didn't even occur to Nicole until her eyes fell on one of the windows, noticing it was pitch black beyond the glass.

"Shouldn't we have…" she just vaguely gestured, not even sure what they were supposed to do that day in the dungeons.

"Here's one of the perks of working with me darling: if I don't feel like doing anything then congratulations, you've got yourself a day off. Now why don't you enjoy it hmm."

She emphasized her words by bringing her free hand to Nicole's head, nails lightly scratching the scalp. But Nicole was wide awake, despite the pleasant sensation that elicited a content hum from her.

There were so many things to take in that she hadn't noticed earlier. Just like her study, Cassandra's bedroom was like a collection of glimpses into her. The desk was littered with papers and oddly modern drawing supplies, the kind you would get by entering the art supply store down the road from her college dorm. A mannequin in the corner of the room was wearing a most likely tailor made dress, complete with what looked like a matching sword. The wall she could see was half covered in bookshelves, half in deer antlers or horns of different animals. Some had labels with dates underneath them that were too far to read, but Nicole managed to decipher one that said 08.06.1982.

She didn't want to risk losing her precious head scratches in order to explore the other half of the room, so her eyes settled on the one thing she could see without moving. The book in Cassandra's other hand.

"What're you reading?"

Cassandra sighed, realizing that she was still awake but answered anyway.

"Watership down."

She giggled, still a bit lightheaded. "Bunnies…"

Cassandra rolled her eyes, not quite in the mood to go on a lengthy discourse about the themes of said "bunnies". She opted to change the topic instead, voice oddly soft.

"How's your head?"

"Mmm...dizzy."

"Sleep then."

"My room is too far away."

"Sleep here you dumbass."

Nicole was silent for a few moments, putting together the few coherent thoughts still lingering in her brain. Then, trying not to slur her words due to dizziness and sleepiness alike:

"Isn't that against protocol? Do you even have a protocol?"

"The protocol is that our staff serves my family. Right now you're keeping me warm. There, congratulations on performing your duties. Now go to sleep."

The redhead gave in, too tired to keep on annoying Cassandra. She nuzzled her face closer to the brunette's neck leaving a small peck on her collarbone and closed her eyes. The nails still scratching at her scalp, occasionally moving to run through long auburn locks proved more than efficient at lulling her to sleep. She could swear she felt a soft, almost imperceptible kiss on the top of her head before consciousness fully slipped away from her

[halstudandruz]

Research Purposes ~ Part 2

*Not my gif*

Pairing: Jay x Reader

Requested: Yes

Prompt: What happens when the only person in the world you didn’t want finding out does?

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: Part one found here (NSFW, 18+)

A/N 2: Also thank you to @enchantedblackrose for the idea 😊

If you are not 18+ and are unable to read part 1 and want to back story just hit me up (:

“We’re so freaking late. There’s no way we’ll have time to stop for my car.” You rushed around Jay’s apartment, pouring coffee for both of you.

“And whose fault is that.” Jay looked at you accusingly.

“I was just trying to help the environment.” You shrugged, handing him his cup after checking the lid.

“You and I both know we wasted more water in there together than we would’ve showering on our own.” He retorted grabbing his badge and gun off the coffee table to secure them to his belt.

“Yeah okay so I wanted shower sex sue me.” You rolled your eyes shrugging your jacket on.

“I wasn’t the one complaining.” He smiled, taking a drink.

“We would’ve had more than enough time if you didn’t insist on cuddling this morning.” You pointed out, remembering how he pulled you back into his chest every time you tried to move out of bed a couple hours prior.

“You like shower sex. I like cuddling.” He teased handing you your purse.

“Maybe we can draft up an alternate schedule.” You joked.

“I do hear compromise is the key to a healthy relationship.” He replied.

“We gotta go if you don’t want to get pulled over for speeding.” You changed the subject reaching for the door knob, before being tugged back by your arm, turning in time for Jay’s lips to meet yours in a sweet, passionate kiss.

“To get us both through the day.” Jay winked reaching around you to open the door and usher you out.

This was the second time that week you and Jay would be showing up to work together. Nobody noticed it the first time, but your anxiety climbed at the thought of someone recognizing and approaching you about it. What would you say? You and Jay were only in it purely for the sex. Right? Regardless of that fact that you had stayed at his house almost every night the past couple weeks even without the promise of sex, or how your stuff was starting to accumulate at his house from the past few months. A few t-shirts mixed in with his, hair straightener resting on his bathroom organizer, makeup scattered about on the dresser. Friends with benefits, that’s all it was. Nothing more and you certainly were not gaining feelings for him. Absolutely not that was against the rules and you were not about to be some stereotypical fuck buddy turned feelings trope, but you were getting sloppy apparently. You agreed to enter through the front while Jay entered through the back. Skipping up the steps you threw a smile at Trudy offering her a good morning, but in return she stared you down, eyebrow raised as she rested against the desk.

“What?” You stopped in your tracks in front of her. But she stayed silent giving you a look, and you just knew she knew. She was Trudy Platt. She knew everything.

“You should tell him.” She whispered to you, and it’s not the first time she had said something of the sort recently.

“Tell who, what?” You continued to fake innocence as you had the times before.

“It’s going to end badly.” She pushed again.

“It already did end badly.” You reminded her before trudging upstairs feeling the heat of her stare still on your back. Everyone except Kim was already there, including Jay who had his feet kicked up on his desk looking through a file. You greeted everyone draping your coat over the back of your chair and falling into it.

The first hour ticked by slowly, and you found your eyes moving across the room to focus on Jay. Opened documents lay across your desk. He looked so relaxed, shoulders loose, breaths slow and even, head resting against his palm as he fought not to fall asleep. You knew he would rather be out chasing suspects, but deep down you were starting to register you were okay with paperwork days. It meant he was safe, and that thought scared you a little. The last time you had those same thoughts you were staring at a different man in the room. A man who sat not too far behind Jay, clicking his pen absentmindedly as he often did when he was bored.

“Ruz, I’ll break the damn pen.” Kevin grumbled, as he had many times before in response to the habit.

“Sorry.” Adam mumbled, setting the utensil onto his desk away from his fidgety hands.

You chuckled at the small exchange, experiencing the exact same one many times in the years you had been detailed in intelligence with the best people you could’ve ever asked to work with. That certainly didn’t mean it wasn’t complicated though, and you were the very obvious example of that. You watched Jay’s head bob catching himself before adjusting in order to keep himself awake. His eyes accidentally met yours, heart rate immediately increasing. He sent you a small smile as his eyes started to roam over your body. Looking for a distraction from the tedious work. You couldn’t scold him. It wasn’t like you hadn’t been doing the same thing the past 10 minutes. Looking at his arms that were tight against his sleeves you wondered if the scratch marks you left on his biceps this morning would still be prevalent, or if the fading hickey from nights prior was still noticeable on his hip bone.

“I need coffee. Anyone else?” You asked trying to divert the obvious eye fucking your were giving each other. Everyone in the room raising their hands. You laughed taking notice of all the tired eyes who so obviously wanted to bash their heads off the desk already bored out of their minds, just waiting for a case to jump off.

“I’ll help.” Jay offered, voice gruff from barely speaking all morning. Together you poured and distributed everyone cups. Sitting back down into your chair when Jay was handing Kev his.

“You gonna shave that thing anytime soon? You usually can’t stand it past a week.” Kevin asked Jay, referring to his beard. They had always teased him whenever he claimed it grew in patchy compared to Adam and Kevin’s and it usually resulted in him having a clean shaven face the next shift. But it had grown in quite nicely this time, and he made sure to keep it presentable by trimming it as needed.

“No, it’s starting to grow on me. I’m keeping it for research anyway. Seems it can enhance far more than just my facial features.” Jay shrugged casually sitting back down atin his chair, and at his words you choked on your coffee spitting it all over your desk. Uncontrollable coughs tickling your throat.

“You good [Y/L/N]?” Hailey asked standing up to help you.

“Yeah..sorry. Just.. went down the wrong pipe. Didn’t expect it to be so.. hot.” You explained between coughs looking across the room to glare at Jay who wore a cocky smirk on his face, flipping through papers not daring to look up at you.

“You forget your ice?” Adam asked, knowing you had put a couple cubes of ice in your coffee every morning cooling it down so you could drink it faster.

“I must’ve. Kinda out of it today.” You shook your head taking napkins out of your drawer to try to clean up the mess you had made on your desk as well as your white shirt.

“I’ll get you some.” He started to walk towards the break room.

“It’s really okay I spit most of it out anyway.” You laughed.

“I’ll just get you a new cup.” He reasoned and you just thanked him not feeling like bickering with him about it. He had been going out of his way to do nice things for you recently. You assumed either so you wouldn’t spill the beans about him and Upton or because he felt bad.

“There’s no way this is coming out..” You grumbled dabbing at the tan stain forming on your shirt, “Do you happen to have a spare?” You asked, turning towards Hailey.

“I’m sorry I don’t. I used my spare the other day after that shooting and haven’t brought another extra.” Hailey apologized. You waved her off thanking her anyway.

“There’s one in my locker.” Jay offered, “You’ll probably just have to tuck it in.” You thought for a moment, it probably wouldn’t look like a big deal. Just a friend helping out a friend.

“Okay. Thanks.” You nodded getting up to head to the locker room where Jay followed. “I know where your locker is.” You rolled your eyes.

“Yes, but you don’t know my combination nor are you very good at opening dial locks. Hence why you have a keypad one on yours.” Jay pointed out, spinning his combination. He was right. You could never open dial locks.

“Do you analyze everything I do?” You crossed your arms annoyed at how well he always seemed to know you.

“You’re an interesting person babe.” He smiled handing you the shirt as he kissed your forehead.

“Watch yourself. You don’t know who’s hiding in here.” You lectured, “this is your fault by the way.”

“I know. Total win-win situation.” Jay laughed, smiling brightly.

“You’re gonna be the death of me Jay Halstead.” You groaned, a small smile on your lips.

“What a way to go though, huh?” He quipped, giving you a quick kiss.

“Get out.” You pushed his chest.

“What? No free peep show? I offered you my shirt and everything.” He acted offended.

“They’re gonna start getting suspicious if we are in here any longer go.” He huffed at your reply giving in and leaving as you turned around to switch shirts. Jay’s scent immediately overwhelmed you as you slipped his shirt on. Causing your body to relax in turn at the familiar fragrance. Jay was right, you had to tuck the shirt into your jeans, otherwise it could’ve been a dress thanks to your large height difference. Turning to walk out of the locker room, you were met with Adam holding a new cup of coffee out to you making you jump at the unexpected body in your path. “Thank you.” You giggled taking it from his hand to take a drink.

“Did you change?” He asked, eyeing the shirt you now wore.

“Oh yeah. I had white on and it was gonna stain so Jay offered me his shirt.” You explained, shifting on your feet at the uncomfortable conversation.

“Well I have one. It might fit you better.” He offered moving to walk towards his locker, but you put a hand to his chest stopping him.

“I’m good this one is perfectly fine.” You reassured him, Adam stared at you, breaking the tense silence with a long sigh, leaning against the side of the lockers.

“Listen we never got to talk about that night you came to my apartment. I just wanted to say I’m really sorry you-“ He began to apologize when Kevin peeked his head in the door.

“Hey, I’m sorry to interrupt..” he looked between the two of you awkwardly, “but we just got a case.” Adam cleared his throat as you nodded,

“We can..finish this later.” You chewed on your lip pushing past him to grab your coat out of Kevin’s hand.

It was nearing 8 o’clock by the time Voight had given you guys permission to go home and get some sleep. Knowing you’d be returning bright and early in the morning to continue to case.

“What do you think about pizza tonight? I’ve been craving some Bartolis.” Jay asked walking down the stairs behind you.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” You stopped turning to face him when you rounded the corner out of sight.

“Well I can just get pizza and I’ll stop for whatever else you want too.” He offered.

“I’m not talking about food, Jay.” You laughed, looking at the ground. Your mind had been racing since showing up with Jay this morning.

“Then..what are you talking about?” He asked, stepping closer towards you.

“I mean I don’t know I’ve been at your place almost every night the last couple weeks.” You whispered, hoping your voice wouldn’t carry to anyone nearby.

“Well we can go to your place. That’s fine.” He reasoned.

“No that’s not..” You sighed not able to find the words.

“Hey, just talk to me. What’s up.” He encouraged hands falling to your hips holding you gently.

“I’m just worried we’re starting to get careless. Showing up to work twice in one week together. One of these days we’re bound to get caught either coming in together or showing up on scene together. We don’t even know what this is. I don’t want to have to talk to Voight about it in the meantime.” You explained.

“We can be more careful. I promise. I just don’t want you to freak out about this.” He assured you tucking your hair behind your ear. “Can we just address how good you look in my shirt. I’m so glad you’re such a klutz..” Jay’s eyes roamed up and down your body.

“I am not a klutz! How did you expect me to react?” You crossed your arms, glaring at him as you did a few hours prior.

“Well is it not the truth? This thing is still on my face purely for your satisfaction.” He reminded you by trailing his lips down your neck, immediately summoning goosebumps from the raggedness tickling in the wake of his lips. He winked knowing his point was proven, moving up to place a soft kiss on your lips. “Sooo pizza?” He asked, pulling back, hopeful look on his face.

“Fine, but I’m not going in to get it.” You rolled your eyes, a bright smile on your face when he wrapped an arm around your shoulders pulling you towards his truck but when you rounded the corner your eyes connected with Adam’s who stood near the door, eyes wide between you two as Jay let his arm fall to his side, your feet rooted to the floor.

“I forgot my wallet in my locker.” Adam explained stammering over his words.

“Well don’t let us keep you. See you tomorrow brother.” Jay remained calm grabbing your arm to pull you out. Patting Adam on the shoulder when you passed.

“Shit!” You cursed when you reached Jay’s truck.

“What?” He questioned and you looked at him dumbfounded.

“You’re fucking kidding me right?” You scoffed.

“He’s not gonna tell Voight. For starters it’s Adam. Plus we know about him and Hailey. He can’t.” He shrugged.

“That’s not what I’m worried about!” You yelled.

“You just said that’s what you were worried about.” Jay reminded you, trying to catch up. “Babe.” He urged when you didn’t answer him.

“You don’t get it Jay!” You shook your head, lump forming in your throat at the anxiety the situation presented.

“No, you’re right I don’t. I’m sorry. Help me understand.” He grabbed a hold of your hand trying to get you to face him.

“Not right now.” You chewed your lip feeling a few tears fall down your cheeks, quickly swiping them away before they were seen, but you knew Jay would know regardless. You were tired, hungry, and now slightly panicking at the thought of having to address the entire situation. His hand squeezed yours tighter before starting his truck putting it in drive.

All Tag List:

@corebore123 @scarletsoldierrr @hehurst23 @beautiful-bunny89 @ingie @halsteadsway @malrunaway @grettiwrites @inlovewith3

Jay Taglist:

@jayxhalsteadx @life-treatments @weepingfestivalmentality @toomuchtv95 @queen-of-arda

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 18

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 7.6k

Abu Dhabi holds a special place in Pierre's heart. The food is great, the views are spectacular, and there is always plenty to do to keep him busy. Night races are some of the more exciting races too and Pierre appreciated the variety.

Coming into the final race of the season, Pierre holds on to seventh in the championship by a few points. Perez sensed the usurper creeping up on his seat and had cranked it up to eleven. 

Exams had kept you in London for the race in Brazil, where Pierre had finished sixth and Checo DNF'd. You had managed to fly out for the weekend in Saudi Arabia, where Perez had finished fifth and closed the gap to Pierre to only four points behind. 

If Pierre didn't finish ahead of Perez this weekend, he was fucked. And he was at the distinct disadvantage of his good luck charm being absent, stuck in London finishing up your final few exams of the semester. Two weeks without seeing you coupled with barely hearing from you had worn on him. It wasn't purposeful on your part but Pierre's stress was already compressed like the suspension on his car. Stray an inch too far over the racing line, hit a curb too hard and it was liable to snap, sending bits and pieces flying.

Pierre checks his phone for the millionth time as he waits to check in to the hotel. Wednesday was late for this many crew members to be arriving. His main concern though was that you hadn't responded to the text he'd sent you upon landing.

"Look lively, will you?" Max claps Pierre on the shoulder and he slides his phone into his pocket. "It's the last race of the season. We get to go balls to the wall and leave it all out in the track. And here you are looking like a kicked puppy."

"Easy for you to say," Pierre starts, grinning at his friend. "You clinched the title weeks ago. You don't even have to race this weekend if you don't want to and you'd still win."

"Doesn't mean I won't be shooting for a podium."

Pierre rolls his eyes. "Yeah well we can't all be so lucky, can we?"

"Next year you'll be playing with the big dogs." Max hands the receptionist his ID, says a few words and turns back to Pierre. "Looking forward to having you as a teammate again. It was fun for those couple races and I'm sure you'll be a challenge now that you've found your groove."

"You're gonna jinx it if you keep talking." Pierre laughs, praying that it covers up the old wound Max's statement picked open. Pierre hated the idea of moving back to Red Bull but he didn't have much choice. He was still contracted to one of four Red Bull branded seats for next season. A promotion, at the very least, would help him showcase his talent and further cement his value. If he had to spend any longer than that with the team, ripping out his hair was a real possibility.

"Wasn't someone supposed to be with you this weekend?" Max quirks a brow. "Where is she?"

"In London." Max bringing you up doesn't help the pit forming in Pierre's stomach. Win or lose, seventh or eighth, Red Bull or Alpha Tauri, come Sunday Pierre wanted you at his side. Interview requests were bound to roll in either way and Pierre would need someone to ground him, a task much easier to accomplish if you were physically at his side.

"Too bad." Max clicks his tongue and takes his room keys from the receptionist. "It's gonna be a fun weekend."

"I don't think-"

Pierre's vision goes dark at the same time someone whispers, "Guess who?"

Pierre sucks in a breath, spins on his heel and wraps you in a hug in one smooth motion. You laugh as he lifts you off your feet and presses kisses to your cheeks. 

"What are you doing here?" He grabs both suitcases and tugs you aside. His room can wait.

"Tost asked me to come." Your grin is contagious, its twin appearing on Pierre's own cheeks. "He said that since you were flying out from Milan on your own there was an extra seat on the jet, so if I got myself to Nice I could fly out with the Red Bull boys."

"Seven hours trapped in a tin can with Max, Yuki and Checo?" Pierre rubs his chest. "I've got heartburn just thinking about that."

"It wasn't so bad," you say, finally giving him a proper kiss. "Yuki and I just played games on our phones the whole time. And I beat Max at Scrabble."

"How many Dutch words did he try to use?"

"Mmm, about half the words he tried were definitely not English."

"Yep, sounds about right." Pierre throws an arm around your shoulders and leads you back to the reception desk. He pays for an upgraded room when you aren't looking- though when you're assigned a suite there's not much higher you can go- and slips the woman behind the counter an extra bill for good measure.

"I could use a nap," you note, leaning against Pierre like you'd otherwise fall over. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

Pierre checks his watch. "We've got time for a nap."

"We?" Your raised eyebrow is question enough. Pierre smiles and swipes his key card once you're in the elevator with him. He hadn't looked at the price of the room but he was positive it was more than he'd spent on a single night in his entire career, considering it occupies an entire floor of the swanky hotel.

"It's date night," Pierre says simply. Initially his plan had been to invite Charles over for a game of Fifa but the Monegasque wouldn’t fault him for cancelling at the last minute. "We're in one of the most luxurious cities in the world and I'm going to show you off every chance I get. The restaurant down stairs is to die for."

Your attempt at nodding along with what he says is thwarted by a yawn. "Sleep first, eat later." Seeing as it was impossible to deny you, Pierre simply drops a kiss to the crown of your head.

"Wait until you see our room." The way your eyes light up when he says our room makes him want to say it again and again just to see you sparkle.

"I know you upgraded it, Mr. I-think-I'm-sneaky." You uncurl yourself from against his arm when the elevator chimes. "How much did it cost?"

"A few extra pennies."

The stainless steel doors open directly into the suite. The living space is dominated by a curving crescent of full length windows overlooking the cerulean harbor and the jagged steel of the city skyline beyond. Suitcase forgotten, your jaw drags along the floor as you toe off your shoes in favor of sinking onto one of the half moon couches situated around a low coffee table.

"Did you get some sort of bonus you didn't tell me about?" Pierre sees your inner engineer cataloging the chandelier dripping crystals over the carved dining table and the pattern of the black veined marble flooring. "This cost more than a few pennies."

"I didn't really look at the price so it's possible," he admits. In the end it was worth it to see you like this, happy as a pig in mud. Pierre was in his element at the track you were in yours in beautiful buildings. For all Pierre cared you could be sharing a dingy room at a motel; it would still be five star worthy with you there. 

Every once in a while though, you deserve a bit of pampering for all you put up with. Late nights and months apart wasn’t easy on either of you, but you stuck by him. And when the day comes that Pierre retires or loses his seat, you would be the one there to comfort him. Spending frivolous amounts of money to see you smile was nothing in the grand scheme of things. 

In Pierre’s world, money is temporary, you are forever.

"Well I have half a mind to tear into you for spending so much on a room we won't spend all that much time in," you start, your star-speckled gaze landing on Pierre, "the view is too pretty to be upset about."

"Mine isn't half bad either." You laugh, tucking an errant hair behind your ear. You both know he isn’t referring to the glittering bay or the expensive furnishings.

"Up," Pierre demands softly, holding out his hand. Your hand is warm and dwarfed by his long fingers but you barely seem to notice. The heart in his chest pounds for no discernable reason as he leads you down the narrow hall past doors leading to what he can only assume are bedrooms and bathrooms, to the one at the end of the hall. Based on his mental floor plan this one has the best view, if he's guessed correctly.

Your breezy oh confirms his hunch. You stutter at the threshold, coming up short behind him to bathe in the beauty of the sea, dotted through with white sails. Sunlight twinkles off the waves and if he breathes deep enough, he can almost smell the salt.

"Come on," Pierre says with a chuckle, urging you to fall into the fluffy down of the bed with him. You follow reluctantly, too enamored by the sights to pay any real attention to how Pierre arranges your limbs to his liking, your head resting on his chest and your joined hands laying atop his stomach.

"How about that nap?" He murmurs, running the fingers of his free hand through your unbound hair. 

You sigh and snuggle in closer. It was rare that Pierre had the opportunity to steal moments like this during a race week, when he had nothing better to do than tangle himself in you.

"I'll tell you a story." 

Just as he expected, you leap at the offer. "Can you tell me the one about the time you and Charles got in trouble when you were karting?"

Normally he opts for something fictional that allows him to embellish the details to fit his narrative. Pierre loved spinning tales rife with laughter and intrigue but he also didn't mind indulging your curiosity.

"Yeah, I can tell that one. Let me set the scene. It's midnight on a Friday at a little track outside Rouen. Two gangly teenage boys, one French and one definitely, positively not French, have nothing better to do than get themselves in trouble…"

**********

Fans began whispering when Pierre set foot in the lobby. The price of stardom was high and had taken years to get used to. Some days the bombardment of people asking for photos and autographs overwhelmed him to the point he was desperate for an out. Most people respected his boundaries and when they sensed it was too much, they backed off. Other days it was simply too much and he would mumble excuses and book it out the door.

The pressure increases tenfold when he steps into the lobby with you on his arm, the pair of you dressed to the nines. He clocks a group of women- clearly tourists based on their body language- perched on a sofa the minute their low murmurs turn into excited squeals.

Pierre mentally braces for you to stiffen or stop altogether but you do neither. You carry on unaffected, either ignoring them or completely oblivious to the women who do nothing to hide their pointed stares.

"Table for two please." You smile at the restaurant host and then at Pierre. You must not have noticed the fans then. You were getting better at coping with the photos and whispers, although your smile usually became forced the longer it dragged on, the polar opposite of you currently beaming at him.

Pierre's shoulders sag a bit when you're led to a secluded table towards the rear of the dining space. Privacy wasn't a luxury he was often afforded. With his back to a wall of windows, there were fewer angles for people to approach from which was a small comfort.

Apparently you find sitting across from Pierre unacceptable because you shuffle your chair to his side of the table before plopping down in it. Pierre shoots you a questioning look but keeps his mouth shut. Inquiring after your motives didn't tend to end well for him.

Instead he leans over to kiss your cheek, relishing the blush his lips coax to the surface.

“It all sounds good,” you say, scanning the menu. “You’ve been here before, I take it?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah I have. It’s all wonderful.” 

The fans from the lobby remain in the blurred fringes of his vision. Pierre does his best to focus on the waitress explaining the specials. He tunes in automatically to the fan’s heavily accented English as they argue with the host, vying for a table as close to Pierre as possible.

Their phones remain out as an annoyed waiter tries and fails to coax the gaggle of girls into ordering something. Pierre drags a hand through his hair.

Being the center of attention usually doesn't bother him. Coping with the spotlight and the scrutiny that accompanies it is second nature; if the press conferences at Spa in 2019 had taught him anything, it was the importance of a solid poker face. Fame is new to you though and interactions with polite fans make you nervous. Having your picture taken without permission and splashed on social media? Forget about it. Pierre didn't care to find out how you'd react.

"Don't be nervous." You lay a hand on Pierre's thigh. The touch is enough to temporarily pause his bouncing leg. "You're going to do amazing this weekend. All you have to do is finish in front of Checo and you're golden."

How you haven't noticed the girls giggling mere yards away is beyond him. The last thing he wants to do is ruin this perfect, beautiful moment of bliss. You look gorgeous with your painted lips and that sinful black dress that he doubts can be comfortable based on how it hugs your curves like water. To top it off, the pride in your gaze is something to behold, making it impossible to doubt himself when you so clearly and openly believe he can conquer the world.

But it's better to tell you now versus you finding out on social media later. "That's not what's bothering me."

"Oh?" You sit straighter and set the menu down. "What is it then? Because if it's Horner, I have no problem marching in there and chewing him out. Birdy will back me up."

Despite himself, Pierre can't hold back his smile. "Where did all this confidence come from, hmm?"

"I'm learning," you insist, nodding your head firmly. "I'm growing as a person and you should be proud."

"I never said I wasn't." Maybe you'd spent the last month at university interacting with racing fans on campus. Perhaps being exposed to endless questions in a setting you controlled was the key. "Did you take a course in confidence at university?"

You scrunch up your nose and laugh in the most adorable way. Pierre's heart lurches at the sight, regardless if it was him you were laughing at.

"No, but I did make a few new friends that have a habit of pestering me about you." You jab a finger in his side for good measure. "It helped, I think. I don't look for cameras as much anymore. You're my focus now, not paps that may or may not be lurking in bushes."

"I knew it." Pierre is slightly impressed that he'd hit the nail squarely on the head. "I figured there had to be someone at uni responsible for helping you out."

You shrug and purse your lips. "I guess we'll have to see how I handle this weekend. I mean, there's bound to be press trying to corner me, what with the stakes and all. But I think I can take them." You raise your fists in front of your face and Pierre has to laugh. 

“Throw a punch like that and you’ll break a finger.” He takes one of your clenched fists in his and untucks your thumb from under your fingers. “That’s how you make a proper fist. And you hit with these knuckles here- make sure you distribute the blow across all four, or you’ll be hurting.”

“Regardless,” you say, jabbing the air a few times, “The shock factor of having little old me in their face ought to be enough to earn me an advantage.”

Pierre finishes the lap to circle back to the topic at hand. "How about we test your confidence?” 

"Okay," you say, dragging out the 'a' until it hangs in the air between you like a spider's web. 

Pierre rakes a hand through his hair and nods to the girls a few tables away. "They've been taking pictures since we sat down. I'm sure they'll be all over Instagram in an hour, if they aren't already."

You steal a glance at the table in question under the guise of grabbing something from your purse. You hum, contemplating how to go about responding. Pierre is almost certain you'll ask to head back upstairs where it's just the two of you, no cameras or outside influence to ruin your night. His wallet is already out under the table, ready to leave a hefty tip for putting up with your drink-and-dash.

“We aren’t doing anything interesting,” you point out, swirling the knuckle’s worth of whiskey in your glass. “Why do they feel the need to document every passing second?”

Pierre lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “It’s just what some people do. If you’re uncomfortable we can go.”

“Who said anything about leaving?” You scoff, the corners of your lips turned up in a teasing smile. “I figure the best course of action is to give them something worth photographing.”

“What do you-”

Pierre’s yelp is decidedly unsexy when you yank him forward by his tie and attach your lips to his. Caught entirely off guard, he flounders for a moment before he catches himself and sinks into you. One hand on your cheek and the other creeping up your thigh, Pierre slides his tongue over the seam of your lips. You don't hesitate to obey the silent command.

He should be embarrassed. He should be contemplating the consequences of this kiss being splashed across tabloids the world over. He can’t bring himself to care, not when you’re the only release he needs and something as simple as a kiss sets his skin alight and causes any sane thoughts to trickle from his head.

Nothing matters. You're kissing him and your hand is a few inches below his hip on his right thigh, burning a brand that he prays leaves a puckered pink scar. Your scent and your mouth and your unmistakable hiss of pleasure saps the worry from his limbs. He's floating up off his chair, lungs filling with helium as you steal every last molecule of oxygen from the room.

Just like that, Pierre is the one that's roaring to leave for an entirely different reason.

Your hand on his jaw keeps your lips a hair's breadth apart as you whisper, "Are they staring?"

A blissed out nod is all he manages. Thoughts evade him and speaking is utterly out of the question when your lips are within striking distance. He surges forward for another kiss, heavier on teeth than on tongue. He makes sure to hold your lower lip between his teeth longer than necessary, putting on a show now that you've given him permission.

"Pierre," you murmur, using the hand splayed on his chest to push him away. The whine that escapes him is wholly unintentional. Thankfully it's low enough that only you hear, pressing a finger to your sinful lips.

"Down, boy." You extricate his hand from the dimpled flesh of your hip and place it chastely in his own lap. "We've accomplished what I wanted to."

Saying you tossing a wink over your shoulder at the intrusive fans isn't the hottest thing he's ever seen would be a lie. Pierre needed to be sure to thank Daniel's girlfriend the next time he saw her for whatever the hell she said to finally bestow you with a healthy serving of self-assurance because this new you is an entirely different entity, one Pierre intends to explore at the next opportunity.

"Problem solved." You brush your hands together and Pierre half expects to see dust clouds in the air like you'd just finished a woodshop project. 

Pierre's brain is operating on a ten second delay. So really, normal operating procedure when he was in your vicinity. "I don't think we've accomplished everything I'd like to get done."

"We have a dinner to finish first." You pick up your menu and resume browsing like you hadn't just forcibly ripped his appetite for anything other than you right out of him. "The salmon sounds good, don't you think?"

"You sound good," Pierre mumbles under his breath and picks up his own menu. God, he'd love to let his fingers drift to the apex of your thighs. You’re always cute when you squirm. It was so simple to do too, all you needed was a brush of his knuckle to your center and you'd be gasping.

"Are you ready to order?"

The soft-spoken waitress bursts Pierre's bubble. She brings fresh drinks and jots down an order of two salmon fillets and leaves with a smile. 

How Pierre has managed to make it this long without fucking you is beyond him. From the moment you surprised him in the lobby, his limbs have been thrumming with energy. And now your surprise kiss had been the pebble that preceded an avalanche of feverish longing. Those red painted lips would look better wrapped around his-

The pointed toe of your shoe digs into his calf. "Quit staring."

"Either you let me daydream or you let me take you upstairs,” Pierre quips back, licking his lips before he can catch himself.

"Can we get through one date without you mentally undressing me?"

Pierre dips his grin in a vat of lust, his words dripping with waxy promise. "No. Not when I know that as soon as we're alone, you'll let me do what I want."

"And what about what I want?" Your pouted lip does absolutely nothing but push his mind further in the gutter. 

"Your wish is my command." His hand floats under the hem of your dress to graze along your core. And there it is, that sound he would swim across oceans to hear, your chastizing gasp of surprise. 

The cross way you whisper his name is a thing of dreams. No one else's name sounded like that on your tongue, that honor is reserved solely for Pierre. The two breathless syllables are more exhilarating than standing on the top step. The rush of adrenaline that accompanies them is ten times what he is rewarded with when passing a world champion on track. He'll give it all up to hear you repeat it when you're pissed or lonely or tired- he just wants your voice echoing in his ears like a broken record.

You move his hand a safe distance down your thigh, nearly at your knee. Pierre gives your leg a sharp squeeze. "Can we please get our dinner to go?"

"Not tonight. You can wait, mon amour."

The French rolls off your tongue awkwardly but Pierre will be the last to complain. Your encyclopedic knowledge of which buttons to press when had come back to bite him in the ass.

"That's not fair." His pout is a mirror image of the one you turned on him earlier. "You can't use my own language against me."

You pat your pockets as if searching for something and shrug when you come up empty. "I don't see a rulebook anywhere."

Reminding you what happens when you tease him shoots to the top of his to do list. "I'll play if you wanna play, ma chérie. Don't bite off more than you can chew."

"I think you're forgetting who usually wins off track."

Pierre can't help it. He takes advantage of his superior reflexes and surges forward to claim another searing kiss. You did normally win and it wasn't for lack of trying on his end. No matter the tactic he employed, you generally got the better of him. Not that he minded.

"Why don't you come here?" He purposely grazes his lips to your ear as he speaks and grins when a shiver runs down your spine. 

"Because we are in public," you hiss back, though the way your head tips to the side betrays you. Pierre's nose touches the underside of your jaw and you struggle to find your breath.

"We should eat." A self satisfied smile splits his face when he notices your heaving chest and wild eyes. 

"When did our food get here?" Pierre did that. He got you so worked up that you blocked out your surroundings so thoroughly that you hadn't heard the clink of plates. Pierre wears that fact like a badge of honor.

"A minute or so ago. Remind me again who's winning?"

"We may be even," you relent, adjusting the skirt of your dress. Yeah, even isn't the word he would pick, considering how flustered you are. It's a good thing Pierre has learned to eat with one hand because he doesn't plan on moving the arm currently slung over the back of your chair anytime soon. His finger traces the letters of his name on the bare skin of your shoulder. Whether you realize what he's writing or not you lean into him as you eat, falling in closer with each lemon-scented bite.

"Excuse me?"

You don't bother to look up but Pierre does. Disappointment washes over him when he is met by one of the fans, apparently deeming now to be the appropriate time to approach him, while clearly on a date, in the middle of a meal.

"I'll be happy to take a photo once I'm done." Sometimes passive aggressiveness works best with people like this, who have no regard for personal space. "Right now I would prefer to be alone, thanks."

"Oh, right." The blonde giggles, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "You two make a… cute couple?" The end of her sentence turns up and your fork falls to your plate.

Pierre tucks you a little closer to his side, both possessive and reassuring. "We know."

Your discomfort is plain, the way you curl in on yourself making his heart hurt. But you surprise him by taking a deep breath and turning to the woman with a smile. 

"If you'd let us finish our meal, I would appreciate it. We can stop by on our way out and chat with you." Sylvie would be proud of that answer. Diplomatically phrased and said with a smile that negates any negative connotations.

"Of course." The blonde's smile is sickly sweet. To Pierre she adds, "Good luck on Sunday."

Pierre nods. The woman's rude behavior didn't warrant a verbal response. She mumbles a feeble goodbye before slinking back to her friends. If nothing else at least their whispers died down, put out by his behavior. 

Pierre loves his fans. Without them he wouldn't have a sport to compete in, and of course he appreciated their endless support. Stopping for photos or autographs had gotten him in trouble with Marko multiple times for being late to meetings that usually turned out to be pointless anyway. As a whole, their enthusiasm gives him an extra boost on Sundays and lifts his spirits after a bad weekend.

And then sometimes there were people like the blonde woman that had interrupted his dinner. Those people he has far less tolerance for. Basic manners were imperative to Pierre giving someone the light of day, otherwise he saw no need to waste time and energy on them.

"All good, ma chérie?" Pierre rubs your shoulder, hoping it'll stave off any anxiety.

"I'm good," you confirm with a nod of your head. "Let's finish up and go to our room."

Pierre presses a kiss to your temple and scarfs down the remainder of his meal in record time. He flags down the waitress and hands her his card, leaving a substantial tip when she returns with the check.

“Can you distract that table?” Pierre asks, aware of how unusual the request likely is. “I’d like to get out of here without making a scene.”

“Of course,” the waitress says with a warm, sincere smile. Pierre waits until she loudly announces, “Excuse me? Your card has been declined, do you have another method of payment?”

Neither of you can contain your laughter as you stumble through the lobby. In the sanctity of the elevator, Pierre wraps his arms around your middle and molds himself against you. "You look especially gorgeous tonight."

"You're not too bad yourself." One of your hands finds the nape of his neck, guiding his face to the crook of your shoulder. Pierre takes the invitation at face value and nips at the sensitive skin. Your hum goes straight to his cock, twitching against the swell of your ass.

"I win," you purr, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging. 

For once Pierre is glad to be in the world's slowest elevator. Since he's already lost, he might as well lose in style. He spins you to face the mirrored wall. And because he knows it'll make you tremble, he trails his hand lazily over your throat to grip your jaw.

A low moan leaves your parted lips. Pierre studies your reflection, from your hands gripping the railing to the skin dimpling beneath his fingers. 

"Fine, you win this time. But I think you and I both know, I'll come out ahead in the end."

**********

Waking up to soft kisses will never get old. Thirty years from now when Pierre was retired and you fell asleep each night with his arms around you, you'd still yearn for the brush of his lips to your cheeks, neck, and shoulders to rouse you from the violet shores of sleep.

"Good morning," you mumble, a sentiment which Pierre echoes with his gruff, sleep tinged voice. "Sleep well?"

"Best sleep I've ever gotten. You tired me out last night." You both grin at the reminder. Fueled by a slight tinge of jealousy after the women at the restaurant made eyes at him, you had refused to let him tumble into bed until well past midnight, when you both were well and truly exhausted. Thursday is press day, nothing strenuous that he couldn't afford to be a little sore for.

Pierre rolls to straddle your hips, lips capturing yours for a proper kiss. The taste of freshly brushed mint makes your skin tingle when he tugs your lip between his teeth.

"It's too early for that." You throw your arms around his neck and urge him to bend his elbows until he falls atop you. It takes him a moment to snuggle in, his head on your chest and his arms sliding under your middle. 

You're convinced that ten minutes in this position can cure any ailments, physical or mental. The weight of your soulmate pressing into you, forcing you to focus on breathing instead of whatever might be bothering you. It's easy to forget about the outside world when everything you require to be happy is wrapped around you like a blanket.

You stroke a hand over Pierre's hair until his breathing evens out, only rousing him when the sun peeks over the harbor. Amiable silence fills the space as hues of orange and pink paint Pierre in swaths of color. Suddenly you're seeing him for the first time, completely enamored by the angles of his cheekbones and the sharp cut of his stubbled jaw. The golden hour of dawn shines on it's golden boy, his lashes brushing his cheeks as he turns towards the warmth calling him home.

"Pyry and I are going for a run soon if you'd like to come with us."

You cringe. Running used to be fun when you were in school, but seeing as you hadn't properly trained in years you doubted you could keep up with a pair of professionals. "How about you text me when you're back and I'll come to the gym with you? It looks fancy, if George's snaps are anything to go by."

Pierre trails kisses up your sternum, over your neck and only speaks once he's reached your lips. "Looking at other men, are you?"

"Shut up," you laugh, shoving him off you. "I'll have you know it was a rare shirt on picture, thank you very much. I don't need to see George shirtless ever again."

A satisfied, "Good," rumbles from Pierre's chest and he stands to stretch the lingering sleep from his limbs. Clad in nothing but a pair of white four inch inseam shorts and with his back to you, you grin as an idea forms. You scramble forward before he can process you moving and smack his ass so hard he yelps.

"Gotcha!" You devolve into a fit of giggles as he rubs the spot you hit, whining about you taking advantage of his distraction.

"You like it," you tease, and Pierre remains strictly pouty for two whole seconds before he breaks into a grin and nods. "Now put on a shirt and get downstairs before Pyry calls you and you get reamed for being late again."

Pierre leans down for one last kiss before rushing off to the lobby. Waking up before the sun leaves you plenty of time to laze about if you choose to. Kicking your butt into gear seems like the better option so you drag yourself out of the relative warmth of the sheets and shuffle to the kitchen in search of coffee. 

Apparently the suite came fully stocked with a handful of different freshly ground blends, and much to your delight you recognize one of your favorites. You scroll through the room service menu on your phone while it brews. Without a doubt Pyry would rope you in to whatever workout he had planned for Pierre, albeit giving you a watered down version of what he gave the driver. Regardless, it would still be grueling and you needed to fuel up.

A hearty breakfast of fresh fruit and cinnamon sugar oatmeal shows up at your door ten minutes later. You're just finishing up when Pierre's snapchat comes through and you nearly choke.

Come on down baby

The sweaty, shirtless selfie that accompanies the caption is wholly unnecessary. Pierre's stupid tongue sticks out and the fingers of one hand are tangled in his hair. The muscle of his bicep is perfectly flexed, an obvious but appreciated attempt to rile you up. You shamelessly screenshot the photo before it disappears to save it for later.

You change into a simple set of leggings and a loose t-shirt and head to the elevator, curating your music queue on the way down.

The outdoor gym overlooks a pool of the same crystalline blue as the sea not far beyond. A few Alpha Tauri and Red Bull team members you recognize occupy a handful of machines. You wave at the ones you recognize, including Alana- she was a sight for sore eyes. You make a mental note to catch up with her at some point today, as you're sure to cross paths again.

Pyry spots you before Pierre does and waves you over. "Start stretching," the fin orders, "I'm glad you dressed for the occasion this time."

"I've learned my lesson." You plop down next to Pierre and lean into a stretch to stage whisper, "He drives you this hard?"

"Get used to it." Pierre shoots you a grin that sets you on fire. He's got a shirt on now, which means he only took it off earlier to send you that snap. Tease.

Any other time you'd chide him for his behavior but this weekend you let it slide. Tension has been brewing since the moment you spotted him across the lobby; simple things tip you off to the stress winding up in him. If flirting could offer him a small amount of release, then so be it, even if it was torturous for you to see him like this and be unable to do anything about it.

"If you two can't get through this without making heart eyes at each other I'll separate you," Pyry warns, pushing at your shoulders and helping you stretch a few more inches. You hide your wince and laugh, leaning into the slight burn.

"Sorry coach," Pierre chimes in, "I'll keep my hands to myself, don't worry." He accepts Pyry's hand to be pulled to his feet. Bouncing on his toes he throws a few punches at the air and catches your gaze over his trainer's shoulder.

"Definitely not you I'm worried about."

As Pyry says it, you blow Pierre a kiss. You quickly tuck your hands behind your back when Pyry's head whips around. Your cheshire grin gets you off the hook and Pyry just points to the stationary bike in silent command. At least he was going easy on you.

Headphones pumping a Pierre curated playlist, you lose track of time as you cycle mile after mile. Pierre sparring on the fringes of your vision helps distract you from burning muscles. Sweat soaks his black tee and is absorbed by the waistband of his oddly patterned orange and white shorts. No matter how incessantly you tease him for his fashion choices, he never fails to amaze you for how well he pulls it all off.

Lost in the music and the incredible view, it takes you a moment to realize Pierre's lips aren't just moving silently. You yank out an ear bud and blubber, "What did you say?"

Pierre's breathless laugh is accompanied by a shake of his head. He half curls in on himself, hands on his hips and mouth agape as he tries to catch his breath. The image stirs memories of the last night, when he was panting just like that but with nothing obscuring you from drinking in his godlike muscled body.

"I said," Pierre starts, walking over to kiss your cheek, "I need a shower before press. I'm going upstairs. You can stay here and Pyry can take you through some more-"

"No thanks!" Pyry shrugs off your immediate refusal. Training top tier athletes and training you sat at polar opposite ends of the spectrum and often times the Fin pushed you farther than you thought capable. You'd like to be able to function tomorrow, thank you very much.

The elevator ride to the suite is filled with salted kisses and wet touches. A breadcrumb trail of clothing leads from the stainless steel doors to the glass encased shower. There's not enough time to worship Pierre like you'd wanted to but he sighs when you run a soapy cloth over his body. Your lips follow the suds, leaving light kisses to the tender muscles. By the time you pour shampoo in your palm and lightly scratch at his scalp to work it into a lather, he's practically purring.

Media appearances are a necessary part of being a driver. Pierre usually handled them well enough on his own and occasionally with Sylvie's help when she could be bothered to get off her phone for a few minutes, but having you with him is different. You pride yourself on reading him well enough to know exactly what he needs. Some days, when the press isn't a pack of rabid animals, he returns to his driver's room and needs nothing more than a quick kiss to have him righted. On days when the pack of piranhas descend to feast on the bones of a bad session or the whispering of drama, a delicate touch is required.

If your suspicion proves right, today would be the latter. Being ahead of the frenzy might take the edge off when Pierre got in the thick of it.

When the tap cuts off, you step out and wrap Pierre in a fluffy towel. His smile communicates how grateful he is- and that he knows what you're doing.

You hand him a stack of Alpha Tauri branded clothes and sit on the foot of the bed. "Do you want me to come to the paddock with you?"

Pierre pauses with his shirt half on. "If you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind." You pluck a few of his rings from the nightstand and hold out your hand. "You have to complete the look."

"What would I do without you," he murmurs, slipping one on his pinky and one on the thumb of his opposite hand.

"Probably be ridiculed for your lack of fashion sense."

**********

As a driver's girlfriend, you had come to grips with being relegated to a background role when it came to team events. You have to ask Sylvie to repeat herself twice before her words sink in.

"Come with me to the media pen," the woman grits out. Apparently Tost intended to have some fun torturing the woman before he fired her at the end of the season. Hopefully whoever Pierre got stuck with next was a bit more personable than Sylvie.

"Pierre told me to wait here," you say, gesturing to the garage buzzing around you. You were a rock and the mechanics were the stream, parting around you without a care in the world. You were barely a blip on their radar, everyone too honed in on their tasks to pay you any mind.

"And now I'm telling you to come with me. The other wives and girlfriends are in attendance and it'll look odd if you're not there too." Clearly, Sylvie didn't like the idea. And any idea that pissed Sylvie off sounded like a good one.

"I know the way," you say and breeze past her. Your feet follow the familiar path to the cluster of reporters crowded around metal gates, keeping the drivers in like caged animals. It was fitting, considering how often people referred to the sport as a traveling circus.

Pierre is already knee deep in an interview with one of the more popular journalists in the bunch, Will Buxton. Careful to stay out of the lens, you lean against the guardrail to listen in. So far it seems to be going well, Pierre's laugh brings a smile to your face.

"So, Pierre." Will shifts on his feet, pausing to create a sense of drama. "Your seat for next year. We know you'll be in Alpha Tauri or at Red Bull. Only a few points separate you from being demoted right back to eighth in the championship, which would officially relegate you to keep your seat at Alpha for the upcoming season. Are you worried about a mechanical problem or an accident stripping you of your chance to prove yourself and leaving you stuck where you are?"

Your stomach sinks. Buxton knew how to phrase a question, you had to give him that. Each word had been carefully chosen to elicit an emotional response from Pierre. You hate seeing him backed into a corner, forced to answer the same questions again and again, helpless to prevent it.

"Well first of all I'd like to stay that I'm not stuck at Alpha." Pierre shifts his weight and you exhale. Buxton's poisoned dart had missed its mark.

"Given a few years of development I know we could have a really competitive car. But it's more so that I'm ready to move up, fight with the leaders now instead of waiting. I'm in my prime and I don't want to let that pass me by.

"So no, I'm not worried about things that are out of my control. My team has given me an amazing car this year and I'm not concerned about mechanical problems. Things out of my control aren't worth my energy. There's nothing I can do about it so I don't even give it thought. I'll focus on my driving and pushing my limit- if an accident happens, I'm just a passenger."

"Well said." Buxton nods and turns away, effectively dismissing Pierre. As soon as he's out of the camera's view he's reaching for you and you meet him halfway. Sylvie trails after you as Pierre leads you through to the Alpha garage.

"Five minutes until your briefing," Alana says the second you enter. "And hey girl. Don't think I've forgotten about that sweater I loaned you. I still want it back!"

Your friend doesn't leave any room for rebuttal before heading for the conference room, presumably to set up whatever presentation she had created. Sylvie had disappeared too, leaving you as the only one for Pierre to focus on.

"You think I can do it?" He asks quietly, playing with your interlaced fingers.

"I don't think." You tilt his chin up so he's looking at you. "I know. And I'll be right here when you cross that line on Sunday and bring home points. You've got this, baby. Don't doubt yourself now."

"Pierre!"

Your grip on his chin prevents him from following the voice, not that he would if he could. You shoot him a raucous grin, "Red Bull colors would look pretty good on me, huh?"

Pierre's smile is brighter than all the stars in the sky. "Anything with my name on it will do.”

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @lu-morningstar @ggaslyp1 @swiftyhowlz @xeniarocks @teenwaywardasgardian @saintandrea-droidsmuggler​

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[argylemikewheeler]

July 1st, 1985

what the first ep of (my) s3 would look like if the main concept was: both Steve and Will are gay in 1985’s Summer of Love and the town’s enemy is a little more human; loving friendships, very confused adults, and Will Byers Actually Getting Help

“Harrington!”

“Yes, sir.” Steve looked up from his desk. He dropped his crossword and looked to be at attention; the police station’s phone wasn’t ringing, though, so there wasn’t really anything he should have been doing. Hopper stepped out of his office, angling himself toward the door rather than Steve’s desk island.

“Do you think you’ll be able to-- Harrington, what are you doing?” Hopper caught sight of the pocket thesaurus sitting on his desk (the last name written on the inside cover not belonging to Steve, of course). Hopper fixed his sunglasses on the edge of his nose, looking over them and down at Steve.

“I’m just, uh, working on my vocabulary.” Steve said. Hopper blinked twice, waiting. Steve wasn’t going to say the truth: he was dating-- well seeing someone-- way smarter than him. This wasn’t for joy or boredom. He was studying to impress. “It’s college prep, sir.”

“The crossword?” The chief evened his stare. “This your old man’s suggestion?” Of all the things Steve’s father was telling him to do with himself, he  wished  some of it was simply pecking at a crossword over a twelve hour shift.  Fucking off  and  being a better piece of shit son  just wasn’t feasible to accomplish in one summer.

“He swears by it.”

“Okay, well. Uh, moving on from that,” Hopper grabbed his hat from the coat rack. The topic of Steve’s father always made Hopper stiffen up; it was definitely the main reason Hopper gave Steve his job at the station, but it still created more questions. Steve knew Hopper and his father went to high school together, but he never asked his father about those years-- beyond his baseball glory stories. “I’ve got plans tonight and I need to head out early. Can you handle things on your own for a while. At least until the night shift comes in?”

“I’ll be fine.” Steve made sure not to acknowledge the crossword on his desk as he nodded. He was really good at his job, he was. He was also just, unfortunately, still a pretty shitty boyfriend and needed all the vocab help he could get. “What’s the pressing story?”

“I have dinner.” Hopper was already trying to walk out the door. “So  don’t  call me. For the love of God.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Chief. I--” Steve was sure it was the cool July wind that slammed the door on the last half of his sentence. Not Hopper. “won’t... Have a good time, I guess.”

The police station was empty: it was another boring and wonderfully quiet Monday in Hawkins. There’d been some calls to break up disturbances at city hall in the past few days, but somehow everyone just seemed to agree that Mondays-- the longest shift of Steve's whole week-- was the day everyone went about their quietest day.

There were a few officers milling in and out of the back lounge and front door, casting a quick glance to Steve as he muttered and threatened fourteen down and six across. Nancy had been helping close the gaps of his post-high school education-- without knowing just what for-- but had been picking up most hours at the Post to try and elbow her way into their good graces; it put his tutoring on hold. So here he was, groaning at some clues about classical artists he’d never heard of.

There were other reasons Steve was sure the other officers thought he was odd-- things he was  sure  his father had passed along in spitting rants-- but Steve didn’t mind. No one said anything to his face.

“Hey Flo! Is, uh, is Steve here?” The question was asked with the answer already in mind.

Steve sat up in his chair, twisting around to see down the hall to the back entrance to the station. There weren’t many parking spots to fill, but he knew a certain someone who preferred it to street parking.

“Jonathan?”

“Oh, I hear him. Thanks-- hey!” Jonathan hurried out from the hall, his camera bumping against his stomach and bag slapping against his leg in the same rhythm. He’d gotten a new haircut recently: semi-wonky bangs and a closer cut in the back. All thanks to Steve’s peer pressure and Mrs. Byers’s kitchen shears.

“What are you doing here?”

“Sorry to stop by your work like this--” he lowered his voice as he stopped at the corner of Steve’s desk. “I know we said we wouldn’t do that, but we got an extra muffin in the lunch order and I know you’re always starving after a Monday shift so.” Jonathan produced a folded brown paper bag from his satchel. “Here.”

“Oh, thanks.” Steve wanted to say so much more, but had to settle. No more. None of what they’d decided they wouldn’t say. Not until the summer had ended. They wanted to see if they lasted longer than the convenience of loose summer schedules.

“Won’t I see you, uh, later, though?” At eight, when Steve got sent home he always drove straight to Jonathan’s. Jonathan started late on Tuesdays and Steve had off; they had the time to waste. “Or is this your way of telling me to stay home?”

“No! No we’re still... hanging out.” Jonathan had gotten really good at cooking and treated Steve to weekly dinner. It was a nice gesture at first, but Steve started growing fond of the company. They both did around mid-June. “But, I think Mike’s going to be over so. Be  cool , alright? Keep it cool.”

“Cool, got it.” Steve leaned back in his chair. He moved his papers to leave a corner of his desk for Jonathan to sit on. No one was in the main office; it was a harmless invitation.

“I have to get going...” It sounded like an excuse, a dive for safety. “And I’m sure you have, um,  puzzles  to do?” Jonathan pretended not to be endeared. He tried, he really did. He  failed , but Steve pretended he didn’t notice.

“Don’t want to sit and help me figure out the title of Mozart’s last opera?” He patted the desk, daring to be more direct.

“I really have to go.” Jonathan was genuine, looking at his watch. “The Post only let me out early today because I have to go pick up Will from his doctor’s appointment.”

“Wait.” Steve put the cap back on his pen. “Isn’t Will’s therapy on Wednesday?”

“Yeah, but with Mom’s schedule and the store being all weird-- we had to move it to today. And you know we typically have a family night after-- so he feels okay, you know-- but we  can’t  . So,  that’s why Mike’s coming over. Hopefully they’ll be idiots and tire Will out and he’ll sleep okay.” Tension rose in Jonathan’s voice quickly, explaining his day as if going over a laundry list; never rehearsing it but having it memorized.

“I can stay home if you need time, Jonathan.”

“No, really. I want you to come over.” Jonathan sighed and placed his hand on the emptied spot on Steve’s desk. “Besides, you can’t break tradition after a little over  one month , then it was just a weird habit.”

Steve Harrington did not consider his summer fling a w  eird habit . If anything, it was the most sensical thing he’d done in a very long time. Even after getting rejected from all his colleges, and never hearing the end of his father’s lectures, 1985 had been very kind to him. And that was mostly due to Jonathan’s inherent nature to be the same.

“I’ll see you after eight.” Steve smiled and reached for his hand-- but averted to grab a piece of memo paper by the phone.

“I’m sorry to leave in a rush.” Jonathan hitched his bag up, checking his watch again. “I just, I really need to get going.”

“Don’t worry. The muffin is  more  than enough.” Steve said. “And seeing you wasn’t too bad either.”

“Slow day, huh?” Jonathan said. The corner of his mouth quirked with a flattered, embarrassed smile. Steve tried to act nonchalant, like he wasn’t so goddamn relieved to see a familiar and happy face. Especially  his  familiar and happy face. “Well, good thing I have another surprise for you.”

“You can barely fit your camera in that bag, what could you possibly-- hey!” Steve missed grabbing Jonathan’s arm as he walked away, heading for the front door. “Where are you going?” Jonathan kept walking, checking his watch the whole way. “Hello?”

“Delivered right on time.” Jonathan pushed the front door open to the station-- but was nearly knocked over as a green  dash  barreled through it.

"Steve! Steve! Steve!” The dash was suddenly grabbing him by the shoulders. “You got the job!”

“Henderson! Oh my god! You’re back!” In an unlikely impulse, Steve grabbed Dustin in a hug, taking advantage of the change of height. “Holy shit, I nearly forgot! First of the month!”

“See you, Steve.” Jonathan walked across the room to the back entrance again. His hand braced the back of Steve’s chair, brushing across his shoulders.

“O-Okay! Yeah, see you!” Steve sputtered, losing his reminded  cool  in an instant. “Bye.”

Dustin pulled away slowly. “What was that?” It looked like  everyone  was too smart for Steve.

“Nothing. He brought me a surprise lunch-- which was an  obvious decoy to the main event! You! How are you, buddy? How was camp?”

“Oh, it was fantastic. Steve, I  have  to show you all my inventions! Camp was the  best  four weeks  of  my  life .” Dustin hopped up onto the corner of his desk. His heels tapped against the empty metal drawers. He was jittery, nearly uncontainable, but still so composed-- if only to be focused all on Steve.

Steve held his hands out, letting him start. “Lay it on me, Henderson! I want to hear everything. I missed you like crazy.”

“Well, first, obviously. I have to tell you about my girlfriend--”

“Whoa! Whoa!  Girlfriend  ? That fast?” Steve hadn’t been expecting any of his dating advice to work. It had been coming from such a poor and confused part of himself, Steve figured it was destined to fail. Apparently, it was just  Steve  that was-- when flirting with women at least. “Damn, there’s something in you after all!”

“She’s  super  smart, Steve. I’ve never met any girl like her. She’s a genius and she’s so pretty. God, I miss her already-- and I  just  saw her.”

Steve looked over his shoulder. He knew the feeling. “That’s great, man. I mean, I’m super happy for you. Like, that’s  crazy . That’s freaking awesome.”

“So what about you? How are the ladies? I mean, you work for the  Chief  now. All the ladies you could need and more, am I right?”

Steve used to be really good at this part of the lie, but with Dustin it felt cheap. He didn’t need to lie to him, but that was the deal; no matter how much that person was Steve’s best and most beloved friend, their secret was a dead-bolt, vaulted secret.

“Eh, not too great. Only girl my own age I see-- besides Nancy, really-- is the night-shift girl, Robin. But she’s not really-- we’re just friends. She’s alright. Leaves me weird drawings in the memo pad.”

“Ooo, she sounds cool.” Dustin raised his eyebrows. “Do you know her from school?”

“Yeah, we didn’t really run in the same crowds but-- it’s not like that, man. It’s really not.” Steve started unwrapping his lunch. “It’s so not like that with Robin.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m not...  looking  at the moment.”

Steve had originally decided to not go looking for trouble. After he and Nancy split in the beginning of his senior year, he didn’t start looking for an immediate replacement. The illusion of thinking he was in love with Nancy-- capable of being in love with Nancy-- was a hard thing to have come crumbling down. Steve needed time to get his own bearings, to put his feet firmly on the ground, and have them lifted off when his father grabbed him by the lapels and--

Steve hadn’t gone looking for trouble. Hadn’t gone looking for love either. But somehow, both seemed to find him.

Jonathan was late. He usually wasn’t but Will was trying not to be worried. It was a different day than usual and he knew how awful Jonathan’s boss and co-workers were. Will tried not to be worried-- he wasn't. It was just that he had spent an hour talking about the night his father left their family; standing outside the doctor’s office was a bit nerve-wracking. It felt too familiar, even with all the talking and note-scribbling.

Finally, Jonathan’s car pulled into the lot. He was speeding, as much as his car  could  speed: he knew he was late, which made Will feel a little bit better. No one had forgotten him. It was just traffic or his bosses or maybe just hitting all the red lights. As Jonathan stopped in front of the curb and waved Will in, Will could see he was jittery-- he was  upset  that he was late. Will felt bad for counting the minutes.

Not that he did it out of impatience or anything. Will just formed the habit after getting his new watch. It matched Mike’s. Completely on accident, of course.

“Hey, buddy! Sorry I’m late. I was-- I had to run an errand really fast. How long were you waiting.” He moved his bag and threw it onto the backseat. Will would’ve held it on his lap.

“I wasn’t keeping track.” Will said, climbing into the passenger seat. Will wanted to ask if his bag had Jonathan’s camera in it. If everything was okay. He didn’t. It seemed like Jonathan had been in his therapy with Will, just as shaken up. “It’s okay. Thanks for getting me.”

Jonathan waited until Will put on his seat belt. “Of course. We’re always here to pick you up. Therapy is important; you have to go.”

Will laughed before he could stop himself. “You sound like Mom.”  Why?

“Because she’s right.” Therapy was still kind of weird to Will-- since  no one else  in his grade had to do it-- but he humored his family. It was helping, if he had to admit it. But it was still embarrassing sometimes.

His therapist, Dr. Bright--  Rose Marie, as she insisted on being called-- was a send-out from the Lab, but disguised within a private practice just outside of town. She was able to listen to Will talk about what he saw and felt during his time with the Mind Flayer without trying to commit him. Almost nothing was off limits. Almost nothing.

Will checked his watch again.

“Are you excited to see Mike tonight?” The question was pointed, but Will wasn’t sure why it made him nervous. “I mean, I feel like I haven’t seen him in a bit.”

“Oh, yeah. He’s always with El.”

Will was sure they  weren’t  dating. El was just on a year-long stint of self-discovery and, besides Max, Mike was the person she trusted the most to help make as many helpful mistakes as possible. He bought her books to read and new music to try. It was really sweet, seeing Mike take such big strides toward helping their friend. But there was also a part of Will that felt dejected:  his  sort of help had to be prescribed and couldn’t be replaced with a warm laugh from one Mike Wheeler.

Will was sick while his friends were growing.

“Is there something wrong?” Jonathan used to ask the question like Will was one trembling lip away from crying-- but this time, he asked it like Will had his hand on the door, seconds from jumping out. “Will, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Will nodded. “I’m fine. Just-- I talked a lot today and I’m tired.”

“Do you want to cancel with Mike--”

“No.” Will had been looking forward to having time with Mike--  just  Mike-- for a whole week. He wanted to sit on his floor with his best friend and be a kid again. Just for the night-- maybe draw some of Mike’s old campaigns or sketch out an idea for his own. He just wanted to remember something good about the past four years. After his hour with Dr. Bright, it all felt painful. Like his childhood naivety had been broken and every conversation he overheard in his house dripped with venom and disdain.

Will didn’t like picturing his house that way. It was a place that loved and raised him, a place he felt safe. He didn’t like thinking the conversations he heard being screamed through the walls were trapped in the drywall.

His arms felt heavy and his chest felt like it was made of metal-- he kept tasting it in his mouth. Will leaned back against the seat and reached for the radio. Jonathan turned it down before Will had even changed the station.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I just want to see Mike.” Will said, his mouth too honest and his mind shrouded in guilt. “I just want to see my friend.”

“Okay. Okay.” Jonathan nodded somewhat somberly. “I understand. Let’s go pick him up. He’s at his house right? Not El’s-- o-or The Sinclair’s or anything?”

“No. He’s at his.” Will crossed his arms and tried to find the loose string-- the thing that could uncoil Jonathan’s still-tightening anxiety. “Are you still dating Nancy?”

Jonathan turned to look at Will, nearly crashing the car. That was the wrong string. “What?”

“Nancy? Are you still dating her?”

“I was never dating Nancy.” Jonathan laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not dating Mike’s sister, don’t worry.” The clarification was strange and felt off-topic. Like Jonathan was trying to talk about something else.

“I thought you were. You guys hung out a lot during school.” Will heard her voice through the walls too. Always gentle, never yelling. Except when she was losing at playing cards. Then she shouted.

“She was helping me pass chemistry. That’s all.” Jonathan turned the radio up a little. Will checked his watch. “And then she helped me apply to the Post internship-- she’s great at writing papers, did you know that? A real wordsmith. Is Mike a writer too?”

He was, he  really  was. Grammatically, Will ran out of red pens trying to help, but creatively? Will envied Mike’s ability. “I don’t know. We don’t really talk about that kind of stuff like you two do… Since you two are dating.”

“We’re  not .” Jonathan laughed. Will took advantage of an upcoming stop sign to lean forward and look at his brother’s crimson face. “We’re not, Will, okay? We’re really not. I’d tell you.”

“You’d tell me?”

“Of course! I’d tell you if I… I had a girlfriend. Which I don’t!” He stayed at the stop sign for a bit too long. “Do you?”

There was an option to play dumb, to make Jonathan ask more directly:  do you have a girlfriend, Will ? but it sounded far more painful than being honest, than being as lonely as he was.

“No. I don’t.”

“And you’d tell me. If you were dating someone?” Jonathan looked at Will, hopeful but scarcely so. “You’ll tell me if anything big happens in your life?”

“Yeah.” There wouldn’t be anything happening at all that summer, that was for  damn sure . “Absolutely.”

Steve had about seventy percent of his puzzle done-- fifty of which was because Dustin was an unstoppable genius with no tolerance for Steve’s careful pace. It was just about quarter past seven, and Steve’s back was getting sore from sitting in his chair all day. He only liked sitting when it was in his car, on his way to the Byers's House, careful, of course, to obey all traffic laws.

Steve was packing his crosswords and pens up in the top drawer of his desk when something clattered the back door open. Steve grabbed a pen and whipped around in his seat, as if to wield it like a weapon.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

“Hey dingus.” Luckily, Steve couldn’t even see Robin yet-- or rather, she couldn’t see him or his emphasized eye roll. She could hear him groan though. “Hey, shut up and quit whining. I’m sending you home early.”

Her head popped out from the hallway. Robin’s ponytail was high on her head, the hair flopping over and getting caught in her stringy bangs. She flung her backpack out from behind her and tossed it toward Steve. She wasn’t in her uniform yet, only wearing the buttoned up shirt-- unbuttoned and showing her torn and dyed shirt underneath. She was wearing jogging shorts, her knees torn up and covered with Band-Aids. They reminded Steve of the ones taped to his face after getting a plate smashed into his forehead. Deceivingly cheerful.

“What are you doing here early?” Steve stood and followed her, holding her backpack awkwardly in his hands. “You’re  never  early.” Eight on the dot. Every time.

“I figure you want to get out of here tonight.” She didn’t even stop to look at Steve as they walked into the back room. “Probably want to see your boyfriend.”

Her words weren’t sharp, but Steve still recoiled. He let his arms, and her bag, hang by his sides.

“Who? Jonathan?” The only way Jonathan and Robin had ever met was in the hallways of Hawkins High. She definitely never saw them interact at the station-- or on any of their nights together: they were always indoors. “He’s  not my boyfriend.”

“First off, I didn't even say a name." Shit. "Second, he came in the other day looking for you.” Robin started buttoning her shirt up, fixing the collar as she finally turned to see Steve. “He was really upset-- didn’t even know what time it was to know you weren’t working.”

“Upset?” Technically, it wasn’t Steve’s problem. It was the deal; they didn’t  have  to care about each other’s lives. It was just summer. It was just like any other summer.

“Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.” Robin sounded extremely sympathetic despite beginning to change her pants. Steve whipped around, covering his face. “You should go see him. Make sure he’s okay. Be a good boyfriend... shithead.”

“He’s  not--”

“Steve, I’m the last person you should be arguing with.” Robin laughed-- and it was only momentarily threatening. Until, of course, Steve realized what she meant.

Like all good secrets kept at Hawkins PD, Steve kept his mouth shut and nodded even if she wasn’t looking.

“Yes, sir--ma'am-- Robin.”

“So, are you going to go or what, dingus?” She tapped him on the shoulder. “Get out of here-- and tell me all about it Wednesday.”

Steve blinked at her, holding out her bag. As if it was enough thanks to give her back her own property. “Are we… friends, or something?”

“No, of course not.” She winked, slapping his arm. “Just looking out for one of my own.”

After picking Mike up from his house, they drove home in uncharacteristic chatter. Jonathan was the only one speaking, humming along to the radio. Will was exhausted beyond performative small talk; the type that had to be done between two best friends when a third party was present. Mike was great at just sitting with Will in silence, but Jonathan didn’t know that. Instead, the three of them passed around quiet jokes and laughter, answering questions about their friends for Jonathan’s upkeep of information.

Once they got in the house, Jonathan let them wander off into Will’s room as he started pulling pots out of the kitchen cabinets. He wouldn’t bother or pester them about any summer work, either. They would be left alone in their own coupled silence.

Mike was sitting cross-legged on Will’s floor, twisting one of Will's crayons between his fingers. Will needed new ones but he felt funny asking for them as a near-freshman in high school. He liked the glide of wax on paper compared to the scrape of colored pencils. Well, that and the fact he ruined half of his crayons the year prior making a full map of Hawkins in a fugue state and only had two crayons able to be used normally.

“You had doctor stuff today, right?”

Will was digging under his bed for his emptier sketch book. “Yeah. Therapy.  Doctor  doctor stuff was two weeks ago.”

“How was it?” Mike let his hand still and rest in his lap. “Like, what do you do in therapy? Just start talking?”

“Yeah, but it’s more than that. You have to think about stuff too. Doctors ask you questions, sometimes.” Will pulled back and drug his old drawing supplies along the carpet. He sat back on his heels and was able to see Mike over the top of the bed. He didn’t know Will was looking. “You have to have answers.”

“What do they ask about?” Mike kept looking at his hands, unaware of Will. “Upside down stuff?”

“Sometimes.” Will shuffled back around to Mike's side of the bed. He could feel the tiniest bit of rug burn starting. “She asked me about my dad today.”

Mike looked up, almost immediately. “Can she do that?”

“Why can’t she?” Will popped the lid on the retired Tupperware, now his art bin. “I talked about it.”

“I thought you didn’t like to.” Will had never said those words which meant Mike had gathered it from just observing him. “Did you… like talking about it?”

“Not really.” Will laughed. He found a few extra crayons, but of all the wrong colors. “She had this big speech afterward about learned helplessness that I… really didn’t like.” Will tried to keep laughing.

Mike put the crayon back in the bin. “Are you okay, Will?”

“Yeah. It’s just… the same old stuff.” Will shrugged. “Sometimes it just bothers me more than other days.”

Mike bit the inside of his cheek, picking at his words carefully. “You never talk about your dad, Will.”

“Why would I?”

“Because it bothers you. You can talk about anything you want-- I… I would listen.”

“You don’t have to listen to it just because it happened to me, you know. My therapist says you don’t have to experience things with me for them to be real.”

“But I want to know.” Mike looked insulted, almost crushed and collapsed as he sat back on his hands. “That’s your dad,” he said. “And you’re my friend.”

They sat in silence for a while. Mike went back to studying a new crayon, picking at the wrapper. Will felt something forming in his throat. A bubble that was hot, thick and sticky. Not vomit, but not impending tears either.

“I don’t get why he left.” Will said. “I don’t know what happened to our family.”

“Nothing happened. Maybe he just… wasn’t good at being your dad anymore.”

“But then why? What did I do?” Will didn’t want to ask Mike, make him feel responsible for answering, but Will was desperate to ask the universe again.

“Nothing.” Mike said. “I just think he…”

“He what? My dad got tired of me? Didn’t want to raise me?”

“Maybe he actually learned how to take a hint and knew he wasn’t good enough for you and Jonathan-- or your mom.” Mike wanted to be hopeful, to be positive, so badly. He ached, his smile tight and weak. He didn't have the answers, and who was Will to put him in the position to come up with them.

“So he gave up.” Will said.

“That’s not what I meant--”

“I know. I know… That’s just how it feels.” Will shrugged. He smiled at Mike, accepting his help and his warmth. It hurt knowing that Mike was wrong, but still. Will could always pretend a little longer. Anything for Mike.

“Hey! You monsters hungry?” Steve clapped his hands together before gently tapping the door. “Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

The door was open. Steve didn’t have to knock. He wanted to, just to prove he wasn’t  too  comfortable, but he also knew Mike was over. And knocking would announce his entrance rather than letting it just be something that just  was  . Rather than being  cool .

Awkwardly and with a lot of weird, throat-clearing fanfare, Steve opened the Byers’s front door and poked his head inside. Jonathan called him in from the kitchen without even needing to say hello, or being surprised by his walking in:  In here, Steve! Dinner’s almost done .

Steve walked through the living room carefully, as if he’d disturb it. There was a tape playing softly-- some band Steve’s never heard of, but didn’t hate. He’d grown to like the way that every song played in the Byers house was always moody and melancholy. The music was always the opposite of how he felt stepping into the kitchen.

Jonathan was at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious. He had what looked to be tomato sauce stains on the front of his shirt-- where he wrapped his hand up to open the sauce jar. Steve was able to hide his smile as he shouldered off his uniform jacket and toed off his shoes, claiming a chair at the kitchen table.

“How was work?” Jonathan didn’t stop stirring. He moved like the stove was turned all the way up and he was afraid of burning the food. He spoke that way too.

“It was fine. Not a whole lot.” Steve didn’t want to have anything seem bigger than whatever upset Jonathan-- and seemed to still be upsetting him now. “How was your day?”

“Fine. Will and Mike are in the other room.” He was checking things off his list. Steve stepped up to Jonathan and stood even with him at the stove. He was making one-pot pasta. It really did smell fantastic. Steve was so hungry, even after his lunch.

“How was… the other things in your day? Develop any good pictures?” Steve covered how stupid he sounded by placing his hand on Jonathan’s lower back.

Jonathan stopped stirring and looked at him. Steve tried to keep cool, tried not to show his motives-- his attempt to calm something he couldn’t believe he’d missed spinning out of control, even if he didn’t know what it was. “Nancy walked into the dark room today-- she’s actually the one who gave me the muffin-- and she exposed the photos to light too early. So no, actually.”

Steve really was a bad boyfriend. Even when he wasn’t one yet-- or at all.

“Okay… how was. Everything else?”

“You don’t have to ask about my day, Steve. It’s okay.” Jonathan sighed and spoke evenly. “I’m just a little tired. Really. We don’t have to do the whole…  thing .”

The whole thing where Steve was explicit about how much he really cared about Jonathan and admitted he was sincerely and terrifyingly in love with Jonathan.

“I was asking because I was curious. Not out of obligation.” Steve clarified. His hand slid to rest on Jonathan’s hip. He moved closer, lips aiming to place a commitment-less kiss on his cheek.

“Steve! I said to keep it  cool .” Jonathan ducked back, placing a hand on Steve’s chest. “I don’t want Will to see us.”

“Your brother?” Steve was surprised; of all people Jonathan explicitly wanted to hide from Will seemed kind and forgiving-- not that there was anything  to  forgive, but it was something Steve often checked for. Steve was sure that one of Dustin’s friends would be… like Steve. Or like Jonathan-- maybe. All of them seemed prepared to deal with any of their friends suddenly being different. Far more prepared than Steve ever was.

“Yes. My brother.” Jonathan snapped, banging the spoon against the edge of the pot. “I don’t want him to learn I’m not dating Nancy but  instead  seeing her ex-boyfriend in the same day.” he whispered.

“Wait, what? He thinks you’re with Nancy?” Steve wasn’t sure where they went wrong. They were trying to  obscure  the truth, not lead everyone to a different reality. “D-Do you think Mike does too?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t want to ask and seem weird.” Jonathan sighed again. He sounded tense again. “I told Will I’d tell him if I was seeing anyone… And he promised me the same.”

Steve knew not to press the obvious question-- well   are  you seeing someone, Jonathan?  -- but also didn’t want to touch the obvious implication that Will  needed  to share a secret with Jonathan. Instead, he placed his hands into his pockets and turned to lean against the counter.

“Dinner smells really good, Byers.” There was another name that began with “B” that Steve wasn’t allowed to use, but always wanted to. Byers Byers Byers. Baby baby baby. “Thank you, again, for cooking for me-- for us.”

“You think I’m going to let you starve?” His stirring slowed; the stove cooled down. He nudged Steve’s arm with the spoon. “You coming home late and trying to cook? You mean half-drinking a beer and falling asleep face down on your bed in your uniform, half unbuttoned.”

“You picture that often, Byers?” Steve lifted an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Jonathan’s lips quirked into a smile again. “But, if you’d like a beer, I think there’s one in the fridge. No one in the house is going to touch it.”

“I can go ask Will if he wants it.”

“Shut up-- do you want it or not?”

“No.” Steve didn’t like drinking when they were together. He’d never really heard the full story about where Mr. Byers went, but he had a father of his own to make those blank spaces fill pretty fast. “But thanks. Don’t want the habit of needing a beer to forget how boring my job is.”

“I thought you liked your job?” Jonathan took a piece of pasta out of the pot and held it out for Steve to test.

He chewed and answered. “I do! It’s nice to have normal hours-- and I’m happy to help have replacements as Flo gets ready to retire but… I don’t know. Sometimes it feels  boring .”

“Would you rather be chasing down a four-legged monster without a face?” Jonathan let out a bubble of genuine laughter, playfully glaring at Steve.

“Frankly, yes! At least we’d all have something to do. I feel like I don’t see everyone anymore.”

“Then throw a party. Don’t wish for anything bad to happen.” Jonathan said firmly. “Let the record show my brother is a very strange magnet for all this… weird shit.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Steve said solemnly. He put his hand on Jonathan’s forearm. “I wish we were all safely doing something exciting. It felt nice to be needed, even if no one knew it was us.”

Jonathan put the spoon down on the counter and pivoted to be looking only at Steve. There was something resting just on the tip of his tongue, just under the surface of their conversation. It would’ve been a digression-- Steve could tell by Jonathan’s tense and furrowed brow-- but he would’ve listened.

“Jonathan?” Steve squeezed his arm, lifting his eyebrows. “What is it?”

“I--” He clenched his jaw, trying to swallow his words. “I think--” Steve knew there was no end to Jonathan’s sentence; merely starting it meant there was trust between them. A careful admission through omission. Steve knew Jonathan was looking at his shoes and wouldn’t be seen as he took in the secret flinches of Jonathan’s face. The crinkle by his left eye, the twitch of his mouth, double blinking--

They both jumped apart as the phone started ringing, practically shaking on the wall. Jonathan stepped away from Steve and left everything unsaid. Again.

Jonathan tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder as he turned to lean against the wall.

“Hello? This is--” His face changed sharply, his eyebrows furrowing. “I told you to stop bothering us. You’re lucky she’s not here to pick up the phone-- I don’t  care !” Jonathan cleared his throat and looked at Steve in a flash of uncertainty and anxiety. “I have the police here right now and if you don’t stop calling me I will send them to your house-- it’s not a threat if you’re the one bothering us. Stop. Calling.” He slammed the phone down and braced his weight against the wall with his other hand.

“Am I considered ‘the police’ now?” Steve said lightly. It was his way of letting Jonathan know he was listening, but not asking direct questions. “I’m not even allowed to have a badge.”

“It counts.” Jonathan said, letting his arms fall down by his sides. Steve stepped over and kept stirring dinner.

“Who was that?”

“No one. Can you go get the boys in the other room? Dinner’s ready.” Jonathan pushed Steve aside to hunch over the stove again.

“Sure.” Steve nodded, knowing he wasn’t seen. “Hey! You monsters hungry? Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

Dinner felt weird.

Will couldn’t help but feel like he and Mike had gotten into a fight. Talking about his dad made anything feel sticky, feel like it was violent or volatile. A second from snapping or tearing off, bouncing around the walls and echoing in Will's body. A small conversation between friends-- actually a little  understanding  between  best  friends-- felt like it had been a screaming match, all because it was cut off. There was no apology from Will. He didn't have the chance to tie it all up with an  I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, forget I said anything.

His plea sat heavy on his tongue as he talked to Steve-- who had arrived without notice-- and let Mike make him laugh so hard he nearly shot water out his nose. Will let it all happen under the tremor, the ache, of an apology. And maybe, if he was the best brother and friend he should’ve been, no problems or therapy, it would be enough of an apology.

He wasn't hungry and only ate half his serving of pasta, even though it was usually his favorite of Jonathan's recipes. He did apologize for that though, and it felt right to say aloud. Even if it was misdirected and no one heard it.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm so so sorry. Please come back--

Mike wasn’t tired, Will knew, but he still wanted to go to bed right after their horror movie ended. It was clear Mike hadn't been paying attention to the movie; the entire plot was that dreams were a new horror-scape for monsters to get teenagers. It wasn't too scary to Will; it just felt familiar. The villain looked different, more human, but Will knew what it felt like to dream while wide awake. To watch and be unable to do anything but scratch at the surface--

Convincing Will to get ready for bed, Mike said they’d have all day in the morning. He said that maybe he could convince his mom to let him stay over again if they don’t get all their fun in. Will knew Mike's mom probably would, if only because she felt bad for Will. But he would take the pity. A sleepover wasn't the worst thing to get from pity.

Will could still hear Mike fidgeting in his sleeping bag. He was rubbing his feet together like a cricket and twisting his wristwatch. The plastic scratched the sheer material of his sleeping bag rhythmically: back and forth. back and forth. backandforthbackandforth. It was like Mike was counting the ticks of his silent digital watch. Will began to play with his own watch, keeping it on in bed only because he'd noticed Mike hadn't removed it when they were brushing their teeth that night; apparently the watch was too good to part with.

Time though, was something Will wished he could separate himself from. He could hear the seconds scraping by now. Every moment he kept his friend awake and bored because Will was too weak or (rather and) too  everything  to stay up late again.

Therapy hadn’t even been that bad. Not really. Maybe it could be exhausting but it didn’t count because Will sat in the same spot for an hour. It wasn’t real work. It shouldn’t have counted. Will should’ve been able to hang out with his friend until sunrise, getting in trouble with his mom for being up so late. He should’ve still been a stupid, carefree kid, not a by-gone troubled teenager.

Maybe his dad had seen that from the beginning. Will's dad was always gambling, betting on baseball games he had these incredible "feelings" on. Sometimes he was wrong, but when he was right it was an amazing prediction; having the foresight no one else had. And maybe that was what it was, leaving them when he did. Maybe he saw Will wouldn’t be the second son he wanted after all. Maybe he knew of all the damage that would be done to him, the damage he would cause. Probably saw it from miles-- years-- away. And he left without a single warning to any of it.

What if his father had known? Could've known where he was when he came back into town two years ago? Not gone forever just in the lights. Just out of reach, just through the wall, Dad. What if he had known, been able to see, able to know, but wanted to leave Will Down there being possessed and enveloped and consumed and--

Will felt a chill scurry down his back. The feeling almost had legs. Too many. He felt ice cold, his body going blank-- not numb, but  blank -- for a second. He couldn’t feel his fingers, but could still feel every inch of his body, suddenly pulsing and seizing.

"Will?" Mike asked, sitting up. He gripped the end of the bed and pulled his face closer to Will's. He squinted in the darkness, feeling for Will’s hand. Will couldn’t answer, his jaw tense and breath rattling out of him. "Will, what’s wrong?"

After a (thankfully) non-awkward dinner, Steve and Jonathan washed all the dishes and let the boys watch whatever movie they wanted. Steve didn’t pay attention to what tape he put in the VRC. He was too busy thinking about the hands hidden in the warm soapy water in the kitchen sink. Neither Mike nor Will seemed too bothered by the  disgusting  amount of blood or the scary blade man on the TV. He felt no regret letting them go to bed right after the credits rolled. Jonathan had looked exhausted after putting the last dish away, and dozed off during the climax of the movie-- even slept through the high-pitched screaming.

They waited for the sound of Will’s door closing over before they got into bed.

Jonathan flopped onto his back, a pillow resting between his chest and crossed arms. Steve laid on his side, bracing his weight on his elbow. He poked at Jonathan's furrowed eyebrow lightly.

"What's the problem, Byers?"

"Nothing."

"You are not a really great liar, you do know that right?" That and Steve could still hear Robin's blasé recounting of Jonathan's distress.  Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.

Jonathan sighed and turned to look at Steve. He hated being called out. "It's about Will."

"What's wrong with Will? He seemed alright at dinner."

"Yeah, but," Another sigh. "Steve, I think my brother’s gay."

Steve's first response was swallowed and he nodded. "Okay. Okay. And, um, what's the issue with that?" He adjusted himself on the bed, hoping there was more subtlety in that.

"I can't talk to him about it. I mean," Jonathan smiled and reached to touch his face. "This is a very different thing than being fourteen and confused."

"Who says he's confused?"

"I don't mean with himself-- the rest of the world is so confusing, Steve. You see the news... I can't talk to him. I didn't grow up like that. And being with you is... Different. We dated girls before. Will... I don't know. I think he knows already."

"You think he's got feelings for--"

"Oh absolutely." Jonathan nodded, closing his eyes. "Oh, I'm so glad it's not just me who sees it."

"Hopefully Wheeler does too."

"Hey, keep your voice down, he's only a few rooms over ."

"Sorry. Sorry. Me and my big mouth " Steve rested his head on Jonathan's shoulder. "Shut me up, maybe."

"Not until my mom gets back." Jonathan said, rolling up onto his side too. "If I catch her when she comes in the door, she won't come into my room to say good night. I can't have you distracting me until then."

"Your mom is on a date. She's an adult and so are you." Steve kissed Jonathan's shoulder. "You are a working man who just finished a long day at work-- I think you can cuddle up with your boyf--" Steve choked on his own stupidity, feeling his face go red and charisma die on impact. "With me."

"I will. Once my mom is back." Jonathan kissed Steve, as if a parting promise. Only to backtrack on his words immediately. He tucked Steve’s hair back behind his ear, his hands trying not to hold his face. “No--  no . Steve, not until my mom gets back.”

“I can keep an ear out--” As Steve spoke, the power in his bedside lamp dimmed. The power hummed quietly before flickering back up. Jonathan tensed and pushed himself up in bed.

“Did you see that?”

“Yeah, it was just the light, Byers. It’s windy out tonight, maybe a tree brushed a powerline.” Steve pushed Jonathan back down to his pillow-- and back into his own skin again. “It’s  nothing  . What if I turn out the light? Your mom won’t even  see  us in here.”

“No. No, I have to wait for her.”

“What if she doesn’t come back?”

“What!” Jonathan jerked upright again.

“I  meant  what if she’s at Hopper’s or something?” Steve shrugged. “She’s an adult.”

“Steve, that’s my  mom .” Jonathan hissed, swatting at the hand resting on his shoulder.

“I  meant  because she drove there on her own. If she had some wine, maybe she stayed somewhere and is being a smart, responsible parent.” Steve soothed. “Something you don’t have to be right now. You’re not Will’s parent and you aren’t your own. Lay down, will you?”

Jonathan was reluctant, but let Steve ease him back down again. He pulled the pillow tighter to his chest and sighed, his crossed arms sinking deeper. Steve laid down beside him, nose gently touching the end of his shoulder. As he breathed, his short exhales tickled Jonathan’s skin and got him giggling. It was Steve’s secret trick; something that always worked because Jonathan didn’t know it was a pattern-- didn’t know he was ticklish.

“Sorry I was weird today.” Jonathan said suddenly. He wasn’t even grinning.

“What?” They didn’t apologize. There was no need. “You’re worried about stuff-- it’s okay.”

“No, I like our dinners. And I was so uptight. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” Steve didn’t know what to do with the sentiment. “Apology accepted?”

Jonathan sighed again, blowing it out slowly between his pressed lips. “Lonnie called today.”

“L- your  dad ? Is that who was on the phone?” Steve wasn’t sure what came over him-- or his body-- as he placed an arm over Jonathan’s waist and pulled them together. There was something unspokenly intimate talking about abusive fathers while being nearly sutured together in bed, but Steve pretended he was just having problems hearing Jonathan correctly.

“Yeah.” Jonathan turned, his nose brushing Steve’s. “Said he wants custody of Will. He doesn’t trust Mom, he said.”

“How is he-- He can’t do that.”

“He’s going to try. I don't know where it came from. He still thinks he can win a case because the news says Will just  disappeared into the woods . Like he ran away from us or something.”

“Everyone knows that’s not true.”

“A court might not.” Jonathan sighed, ducking his head down. Steve resisted lifting his chin to hook it over Jonathan’s head, nestling him into his neck. He laid still, listening to his breathing and the gentle creaking of the house--

Jonathan's door was thrown open, both men sitting up quickly, ready to defend themselves and their actions. It was Mike, in his pajamas with his hair sticking out in wild curls. Will stood just behind him in the hallway looking far more awake. Stilted and untousled.

"Mike?"

"Jonathan, quick!"

"What is it?" Jonathan swung his legs around and motioned both boys to come in. "Will?" Mike pushed him into the center of the door frame, although he remained in the hallway, in the light. Will’s hand grabbed at the back of his neck. His face was blank and his eyes were distant.

"Something's wrong." Will said slowly, blinking to focus. "I feel him."

"Feel who?" Jonathan kneeled in front of Will, holding his shoulders. "Feel who, Will?"

"Dad."

[smol-and-grumpy]

To Be Free - CH01

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Escaping and hiding away, that’s what she wants to do. Her parent’s remote cabin in the mountain sounds like the best place for it. There, she meets someone from her past — a green-eyed mountain man.

Chapter Warnings: A little back story, cheating (not Dean), language, threats being made, car accident

WC: 2481

Beta: @winchest09​ <3

A/N: So, this is the beginning of the Mountain Man!Dean AU. I hope you’ll like it!

Read ahead on Patreon!

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

The phone buzzes on the seat next to her. Again. 

It hasn’t stopped ringing since Y/N had gotten into the car and drove away. She’s so close to just throwing it out of the window but then again, the rational side of her brain tells her that she would endanger the automobiles around her on the highway, and she doesn’t really want to cause any damage, or accidents, if it can be avoided. 

“You’re a goody-goody.” Mick always used to say, “It’ll get you in trouble if you don’t toughen up.” 

Perhaps Mick was right. She probably was not made to work in that firm where she has to help fucking criminals. But then again, he made it seem so plausible and she can’t believe that she fell for it all. Y/N had fallen for the prestige, for the fame, and most of all, she had fallen for Mick, and that was the worst fucking mistake. 

The events of that night flash before her eyes once more. 

It’s 9 PM. Mick usually doesn’t have a reason to work so late unless he has a meeting with the mob family that they have under their wings. She never liked to go to their meetings, always found an excuse to opt out. The way the men always stare at her like she was a piece of meat rather than a woman with a brain, always sent a chill down her spine. 

When she stepped out of the elevator, the floor was dark. There’s only minimal light coming from the reception area that’s vacated at this time of the night. Y/N never liked to be here after hours but it’s the only place she thought she could find Mick. He didn’t pick up his phone when she called him which was highly unusual. Somehow, she was a little afraid of what she would find. It could be him just laughing and joking with the mobsters, but it could also have been him bruised and beaten beyond recognition because the Family wasn’t happy with his work, or it could be worse. He could be dead. Today was his birthday too and she even ordered catering for the both of them to enjoy at home. She guessed that she would have to pop the dishes into the microwave because by the time she decided to check here, it was already starting to turn cold.

Walking further along the hallway, she noticed that the lights in Mick’s office are still on and a sense of relief washed over her, while the sense of dread built up in the pit of her stomach at the same time. 

“Oh god, Mick.” 

There was a faint moan that carried through the hallway of the offices. It made her blood freeze, but it forced her to walk faster.

“Mmh,” she heard Mick humming. “Always so fucking tight for me, Eve. Such a good pussy.” 

“Better than Y/N, I’d hope.” 

Mick chuckled, “I’d rather you not talk about her while I fuck you. You know you’re my best girl, baby.”

The dread in Y/N’s stomach intensified and something began to churn inside of her. She had to clutch it so as not to just hurl out the whole contents into the next pot plant she could find. 

Eve was her friend. Her best friend since she moved into the city two years ago. She was even the one who helped Eve to get a job at her boyfriend’s firm. 

Well, not her boyfriend anymore, she guessed. 

She reached the door, fingers clutched around the frame for purchase as she took in the image before her. Eve was bent over the table, Mick half undressed, fucking into her from behind. 

He threw his head back as he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he turned his head and their eyes met. 

For a brief second, she thought she saw a smirk twisting at his lips when he noticed her. He kept on pounding into Eve, though, his pace never faltered. 

Y/N retreated, tears pooled in her eyes and she moved on autopilot. Before she knew it, she found herself in her office, packing the things that she needed into her laptop bag. 

‘Stupid! So fucking stupid!’ she thought. She should have seen it. Why hadn’t she seen it? The red flags were always there. Mick always gave her assignments that would see her traveling all over the country for a long stretch of time. She would find receipts of hotels laying around in the apartment, or when she did laundry, but he always had a good reason. They hadn’t been intimate for a long time, too. Mick was always too tired and if he wasn’t then she would be. And if that happened, he would get out of bed and said that he needed a drink and was out of the apartment before she could even say anything. She was so engrossed in her work and too oblivious to what was going on, that she ignored all the warning signs. 

She was crying now, the tears not stopping. But it’s not over Mick. She would never cry over a man who had treated her like this. She cried for herself, for being dumb enough to let someone play her. 

Bending down to pack the remainder of her things, she opened her last drawer, revealing a little safe that was neatly tucked inside. Without hesitation, she punched in the combination and it sprang open. It contained a single USB stick. 

Picking it up, she clutched it in the palm of her hand. She had forgotten about the small device and now she knew why Mick kept her around. She was the only person who had a copy of the shady business his clients are doing, because she was involved as much as Mick. He was never going to give her up because if the information got leaked, he'd be taking the fall. 

There were footsteps along the hallway, the thumping sounds getting louder as someone rushed to her office and she quickly let the stick slip into her jean pocket. 

“What are you doing?” he asked too casually but with a bitter undertone, acting like he hadn’t just fucked her best friend. 

“What does it look like?” she snarled, patience wearing thin. “I quit. And don’t even come by my apartment anymore.”

He walked in further; his hair was ruffled and the buttons on his shirt were hastily done up, the material lopsided as he had fastened them wrong. She was so disgusted by his appearance.

Mick rubbed his hand over his chin, carefully thinking about his next words. “I need the USB stick before you leave.” 

She snorted. That’s typical. All he could think about is his fucking business. “I don’t have it.”

“Liar!”

“Oh, look who’s talking.” Maybe, just maybe, she shouldn’t anger him but screw that.

“Y/N.” Mick rounded up around her desk and came to stand right before her. The scent of sex hit her nose in waves. It made her nauseous. “You’re going to get into so much trouble if they know that you have it and believe me, if you walk out of here, they will find out because I will tell them.”

“I’m not scared of those men.”

Mick laughed. Fucking laughed. 

“They’ll come for you, Y/N. Those men are not to be fucked with.” He was still chuckling when he said, “They will find you and they will kill you.”

She cocked her eyebrow, and maybe she should have been scared of Mick and his threats but she’s still got the upper hand. If she got to expose him first, she has bargaining leverage. Maybe she’d get to be in a witness protection program. By the time it hits the fan, she will hopefully be long gone. 

“I don’t have it,” she said again as she bumped her shoulder against his on her way out, shoving him to the side. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” Mick called after her, his voice echoing in the almost empty hallway. 

With her head held high, she descended the stairs, too impatient and not to say scared to wait for the elevator.

 The phone buzzed again after having only stopped for a short time. It actually hasn’t stopped ringing since she drove back to her apartment to pack her duffel with enough clothes that should last her for a couple of days. She wanted to get out of here, clear her head, think about what to do next. 

It’s after she stopped for gas that she remembered the remote cabin that belonged to her parents. They hadn’t been up there for a while as the health of her father was deteriorating but she knew where they kept the spare key, and it’s the only place she knew nobody would come looking for her because she hadn’t been with Mick long enough to let him in on the existence of the cabin, nor on the memories the place held.

Buying enough food that would last her a couple of days, she drove towards the foot of the mountain. 

It was February and the roads were icy as it had snowed just last night. She hoped that her car would have enough power to get her up there, as she didn’t have snow chains with her. Not that she knew how to put them on in the first place. If worse comes to worst, she’d have to abandon her car and hike up the last bit, which was totally fine with her too. Anything to get away from civilization.

As she made her way up the snowy road and rounded up the twelfth bend in the street (There were fourteen - she had counted them from the drive up there every winter), her phone buzzed again. 

She glanced over to the passenger seat to catch the caller ID. It could be her mother for all she knew and that one, she would pick up. Y/N would maybe tell her that she was on the way to the cabin so that they wouldn’t be too worried if they can’t get a hold of her, because the reception could be pretty spotty up there.

But no, it’s fucking Mick again. She rolled her eyes upon seeing the name flash on the screen before turning her gaze back to the snow-covered street in front of her, but it was already too late. Out of her periphery, she caught it. The deer that ran out of the woods, its eyes wide when it saw the headlights of her SUV. Her foot hit the break immediately, but it was too late. The car swerved on the icy ground and she hoped she didn’t hit the animal before her vision goes black.

  Dean was sitting in his recliner in the cabin while he enjoyed his glass of bourbon. It’s his downtime, one of his favorite pastimes, next to spending his days out with Stevie, his Bernese mountain dog.

He had been coming to this cabin since his early childhood, having only missed one Winter out of the many. There were times where he would only spend a week up here but also there were times where he would be there for the whole winter. It’s his favorite place, always has been. 

The cabin is not as big as the ones that surrounded it, but it’s enough. It has only one bedroom, yet it was cozy. He remembered back to when he was younger, when he and his younger brother would sleep on the fold-out couch while his parents took the bedroom. Sometimes if Sam was upset with him, Dean would spend the night on the rug in front of the fireplace instead, and it was the best thing. He almost felt bad for wanting to get into a fight with Sam more often so that his sibling wouldn’t look at him funny when he wanted to spend the night on the floor instead of on the worn-out couch.

Once his parents stopped their annual visit up there, and they wanted to sell the cabin, Dean had saved enough money to buy it from them. There were just too many memories tied to the little property, too many of them that he wasn’t willing to just forget. 

While he took a sip from his tumbler, Stevie lifted her head and twisted her ears. 

Dean noticed, and immediately reached down to pat the dog's head, “What's wrong, Stevie?” 

The dog ignored him to get up and walk over to the door, letting out a whine as her nails started to scratch at the wood. 

“Easy, girl,” he soothes the agitated dog. “You wanna go out for a walk again?” 

Stevie whined some more, her scratching becoming more frantic. 

“Right,” Dean sighed as he got out of his seat. He took his time to empty his tumbler before setting it down on the coffee table. “Let’s go then.” 

The snow had started to fall again as they got out of the cabin, and he ducked inside once more to grab his hat that’s hanging on the hook right behind the door. Stevie was not impressed that it was taking Dean so long to get ready and started to bark.

“Easy, Stevie,” he chuckled as her wet nose nuzzled against his palm. He reached down to scratch behind her ear, a motion that seemed to calm her down. “Good girl.” 

They made their way down the street. The old snow crunched underneath his boots. Fresh layers of the white powder would cover over it soon enough, erasing their prints when it settled. He thought about doing their usual nightly walk around the perimeter, wondering if maybe they’d see a deer or two. Stevie had a way with deer. They love to meet her and Dean’s always mesmerized by the unusual bond they had. Stevie was always good with other animals and people, the dog’s sense to protect everyone is highly admirable, and Dean really couldn’t wish for a better companion.

As they rounded up the second bend in the road, he saw the car. Its headlights were still on but the front was wrapped around a tree which was the only thing standing between the car and the abyss. It was not a strong pine and the wood was already creaking under the weight.

Stevie rushed forward and Dean followed suit. The tree was going to give in at any minute, he just knew and if he couldn’t save the car, maybe he would be able to save whoever was stuck in there.

Dean thankfully reached the vehicle in time, yanking the driver’s door open and the sight of the girl slumped over the steering wheel made his blood run colder than the icy road he was standing on. 

“Y/N?” 

CH02

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