#the face fire thing feels like someone has a hair dryer pointed at it

[housemarcellus]

I cleaned my bedroom and now the apple of my right cheek is red and on fire, and my knees won't bend, lmao.

[ddejavvu]

police officer!steve and firefighter!reader in where they have to work together but both are hot headed and don't like each other

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

--

"Do not touch the hose," You hiss, yanking the rough material from Officer Harrington's hands. You're reminded of your time in the police academy before you'd switched to firefighting, your old teammate's stubbornness still shining through.

He scoffs, glowering at you, "It was in the way."

"In the way?" You retort, holding the fabric protectively to your chest as your team works around you, "We're using this, Harrington. If these people want their house extinguished it's gonna have to be in the way."

"That's a safety hazard," He insists, kicking part of the tube towards you so that it coils over your feet, heavy and thick, "People could trip."

"A safety- You wanna talk about a safety hazard?" You gesture broadly to the blaze before you, "A fire is fucking safety hazard!"

"Unprofessional," He sneers at you, hands balanced low on his hips over his belt, "You should be ashamed of yourself, using language like that. What if he heard?"

Officer Harrington points at the seven-year-old boy who's home is currently smoking, far enough away and hysterical enough that you don't think he'd hear you if you shouted in his face.

"He's about to hear a lot worse if you don't shut up, Harrington."

"You just have to make everything about us, don't you?" He narrows his eyes at you, motioning between you, "You just can't move on from how you didn't advance."

"I chose not to advance!" Your mouth falls agape at his condescension, "Because I realized there were better things to do than running around with a gun and causing problems!"

"Causing- What do you think we do?" Steve throws his hands up frustratedly, "At least we actually do something! You all just sit around waiting for someone's dryer to malfunction, I dunno, making chili or something!"

"Chili!" You exclaim, throwing the body of the hose down from where you'd been supporting it, "You're unbelievable, Harrington. You know, you're lucky I didn't become a cop, 'cause if I had a gun on me now-"

"Hey!"

You don't even hear the squeak of your secondary hose, a measly little garden accessory that you only keep to wash off any ash you happen to touch. You certainly feel it, though, as water splashes over your face in a sharp burst that leaves you and Steve soaked.

"Enough." Your teammate reprimands you, eyes full of disappointment at your lack of professionalism, "You two are supposed to be helping right now, not duking out some high-school drama."

"Academy." You and Steve grumble at the same time, then glare sharply at each other.

"Whatever." Your teammate snaps, "Just lay off."

Steve, clad in a tight-fitting blue shirt, has nothing covering his arms. The shirt grows impossibly darker with every second that water drips from his perfect hair, and he lets his body shake with a soft shiver at the cold air.

"Fuck," You hiss under your breath, shrugging out of your heavy jacket, "Take this, idiot, and next time bring a jacket."

The coat lands in Steve's hands with a strained groan pulled from the man, and he looks at you like you've grown three heads. You suppose it would have been crazier if you had, because never in a million years would you give Steve Harrington your jacket.

"My number's on the inside," You mumble, already stalking off towards the fire, "Call when you're done with it."

"I still have your number." Steve calls after you, effectively stopping you in your tracks. You mull his words over for a moment, think about their implications and how you definitely still have his, then continue walking, missing the way his eyes tracked your every move.

[allandoflimbo]

Ashens (Part 23)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6,000

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy and angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

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The world was on fire and no one could save me but you

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do

I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you

+ + +

“Don’t question acts of the daring and misinterpret it for insanity. 

Simply thank the courages ones for their heart and strong character, 

for not all are willing to do the good and get destroyed in the worst way, 

not for their own benefit, but for others.”

+ + +

It starts in his fingers, a feeling of hot tingles and sporadic static. He plays with the condensation of the glass, gathering the wetness on the tips of his digits until they are completely numb from the cold. The hot tingles and static dissipate momentarily until they move up his arms and into the cavity where his heart beats.

It beats for the way you waltzed into the room, smelling like sweet strawberries and your shampoo. 

It beats for the way it continues to ache and hope to feel your touch again.

If he’s quiet enough, he could hear it, too. It thumps away in his head, making his temples pulse and his palms sweat. He rubs the palm of his hand against the glass, too.

He looks up, dark eyes meeting your figure in your shared bedroom. Memories of the last few months fill his brain with a strong ripple of serotonin, gaze drifting towards the messy, fresh out the dryer, white sheets. 

He’s feeling too much. It must be why he feels like he’s having a heart attack and why his mouth is insanely dry.

His eyes flicker back up to you again, and for a fraction of a second, he considers saying something.

Bucky doesn’t talk about his feelings much. 

He always held it down. 

He didn’t talk about how he felt when he watched his sister being taken from him, or when either of his parents died and he in result became an orphan. 

Not much has changed since then, he thinks as he keeps looking at you.

You were moving around, unaware of his inner turmoil.

Bucky is fully convinced that no one on this earth detests him more than he detests himself. Not only does he hate himself for the things he’s done, but he can’t stand how he’s unable to talk about his feelings when he knows he needs to. 

He can’t stand how weak he is and how he doesn’t have the guts to face it. 

He’s watching you and he wants to speak up, but he can’t.

He detests himself for always running away from facing his demons. 

This had a lot more to do than you going on a date. This was about everything. He knows there’s so much he needs to tell you.

He just wishes it were a lot simpler. 

He doesn’t dare compare his issues to yours. 

He knows each person has their own demons and their own complications to conquer, so he doesn’t dare compare. But, sometimes, he can’t help but think he is the world’s most horrible person, through no fault of his own.

Why couldn’t he have been stronger? Why couldn’t he have stopped himself from getting brainwashed? Why couldn’t he stop himself from doing all the things that he did?

Nobody knows what it’s like to live with the memories of being forced to train young girls who were taken from their families to fight for the KGB, one of them who later turns out being your friend. Not to mention then also shooting the same girl through the stomach on a bridge in Odessa. Nobody knows what it’s like to be forced to put a bullet between countless of innocent people’s eyes, some being young kids, cutting their innocent lives short. 

Nobody understood what it was like to then be forced to kill someone’s parents, the same person who’s teams then welcomes you decades later into their home as family. 

He experienced all of it without one goodbye to his blood family. 

It doesn’t make sense to him how no one else could see what was going through his mind. Maybe he was messed up to the point where he could no longer be okay ever again. 

Maybe.

But you, you had woken something inside of him that he thought had been long gone. You gave him a longing for communication, to talk about how he was feeling. For the first time in over half a century, because of you, he sees a potential light at the end of the tunnel.

You didn’t treat him like an ex assassin, a veteran, an avenger, or just a friend. You treated him like an imperfect man, taking him into your arms in spite of that.

Unbeknownst to you, you had taken his broken heart in your hands and held it tenderly, like a mother holding a newborn child. You taught it how to be happier, you taught it self forgiveness and preservation. You showed him how to be human, how to feel human desires that for so long he had held down. 

He continues to watch you, swelling hard.

You showed me that it was okay. He thinks to himself.

You were his friend for much longer than you ever knew, and you had no idea.

He needed you more than you realized. 

But you were right. It was time to let you be truly happy. After all, how could someone like him make you happy? You made it clear to him, time after time, that you’re both toxic together. He knows most of it was his fault, but he had changed. Unfortunately so had you and your feelings were just platonic now. It was a mess. Both of you, together, was a mess.

The amount of orgasms you shared don’t even make up for the hurt you’ve put each other through.

That’s what he needs to tell himself as he watches you from the living room, pulling the wool scarf tight around your neck to hide your tattoo, and tightening the lightweight white coat over your shoulders. 

You were wearing a mid length dark red dress and short black heels. You looked great. The small smile your wore complemented you well, too. You looked happy.

Bucky knows he has no right to feel what he does as he watches you go back into the bathroom to touch up your hair.

It was a quarter past seven and the sun was setting. If this was two weeks ago, you two would probably be having sex right about now. 

It had become routine after a certain point. He would probably have you bent over the sink, leaving finger indents on your hips. 

Not anymore. That was over.

Ironically, it wasn’t even want he wanted to do with you as he watched you walk back in. He just wanted to grab you, run his hand through your hair and kiss your forehead. 

The thought of wanting to do such a pure act catches him off guard and he feels a tightness in his chest grow hot. There was the static again in his fingers. 

“I’ll be back in a few hours. We’re just going to have dinner at his place.” You say, slowly stepping into the lit living room.

Bucky’s on the sofa and you watch as his eyes leave yours to obviously linger down your body. 

He clears his throat, reaching for the glass of water on the coffee table.

“Be safe.” He says softly. 

You watch as he takes a sip of the water, his eyes meeting yours again over the glass. There’s a pull inside of you that wants you to ask him if he was okay.

“You’ll be okay here?” 

He gives a curt nod, avoiding your eyes.

“I’ll be fine.” His tone is hard and straight to the point, but something was still clearly off with his behavior. 

He’s been acting weird since a few days ago when you told him about Pietro.

You start playing with the sleeve of your coat, clearly stalling. 

He had to open up to you.

“You have food?” You ask. The edge of Bucky’s lip perks up. You’re thankful for the almost smile.

“Yes.”

You watch him for a few more seconds. The mundane exchange is almost comical.

“I gave you his address, right? Just in case?”

Pretty blue eyes narrow at you curiously. 

“Yes, I have it right there.” Bucky says, pointing over to the dining table below the blue A.I glow.

“Okay.” you say, nodding slowly, “Okay, I’ll see you later then.” 

Bucky doesn’t say anything as you leave. He leans his elbows on each of his knees, bringing both his clasped hands together up to his chin. 

He wants the static to go away. He wants to tell you everything.

He takes in a deep breath and runs a metal hand through his hair.

No, I wasn’t going to be okay without you here. 

He picks up the control off the table and starts season nine of Friends. 

It was going to be a long night.

+ + +

You were nervous. This was your first date. 

Ever.

You also didn’t know what to expect from tonight. Sure, you liked Pietro. He was sweet, a good guy, and he was attractive. You wanted to give it a try. You were done being dragged down by one man that didn’t even love you the way you did. 

It was time to move on.

Three soft knocks is how long it takes for the dark blue door of apartment 8C to swing open.

You’re immediately welcomed by the scent of something delicious and Pietro’s warm and bright smile.

“Hey, you.” He says with a delighted perk in his voice. He swings the door open wider for you to walk through, “Come in.”

Timidly, you walk into his inviting home. 

The walls were beige and he had dark brown wooden floors. They were glossy instead of matte. To the left was a small kitchen with black cabinetry, and in front of you a small living room with a television and a black cotton couch.

You didn’t miss the hallway towards the far left the most likely led to a bedroom and bathroom.

Bedroom.

You feel your throat close up.

You were nervous.

“May I take your coat?” He asks sweetly, stretching out a hand to you. Your eyes go from his hand to his own eyes and his smile is contagious, “I’m just going to hang it in the closet. I won’t let it run away. Promise.”

You chuckle.

You give him a short nod, shrugging off your coat and handing it to him. 

“Thank you.” You say.

There’s a small pause of silence.

“Wow, you look amazing.” He says quietly, taking in your dress. His eyes sparkled as he looked at you and you knew he was being sincere. You smile. “Do you want me to take your scarf, too?”

You instinctually reach for your scarf before pausing, your hands lingering on the fabric a bit longer than casual, “I’ll keep it,” your eyes meet and he squints at you, “It’s supposed to go with the dress.” You say quickly on your feet.

He tilts his head at you and chuckles.

“Okay. Well,” he looks down at his hand still holding your coat, “I’m just going to go hang this up. Feel free to to look around for a few seconds.” 

You nod again, watching as he walks to a small closet towards the right, passed the tv.

You look over into the kitchen, and you see a neatly set table with two glass of wine. 

There’s a pot on the stove with the lid on it, but the stove isn’t on.

You feel a warm and inviting hand on your upper back.

“I made, or should I say, I attempted,” he adds a chuckle that makes you smile, “to make some chicken parm.”

You giggle.

“I’m sure it’s delicious.”

You both walk over to the table which isn’t that far to the side and he pulls out one of the chairs for you. You thank him politely, taking a seat.

There’s the sharing of shy glances and awkward feet hitting each other under the table. You mutter out sorry’s.

Pietro clears his throat when he remembers he forgot the plates. You smile again as he apologizes and gets up.

“I’m the worst.” He says quickly.

“You’re not, relax. I forgot, too.” You play with the glass on the table, vividly remembering Bucky doing the same not too long ago.

You were picking up each others habits, hard.

“So, how’s it going with the whole situation at home? With your friend?”

You’re caught off guard by the indirect mention of Bucky and you try to casually grab the white napkin off the table, laying it over your lap.

“It’s going better.” You say, hoping it’ll make Pietro cut the topic short.You smooth the fabric over your legs, picking at it.

He looks over his shoulder to you and you can feel his eyes on you.

“Really? That’s good. I’m happy to hear that. I know it was rough for you. I hated seeing you like that.” That makes two of us, you want to say. There’s another pause. “You’re quiet today.” He notes, placing your plate in front of you. You’re hit with an intense wave of nausea as the delicious smell peaks up into your nose. You look away from the plate swallowing hard, “You okay?”

You clear your throat and swallow and swallow.

“Yeah I’m fine,” the bile lays in your belly as the smell continues to drive into your head, making you dizzy and sweat, “Do you have some water?” You croak out, trying to push your chair a little away from the table. It scrapes angrily against the floor, and if it wasn’t for how sick you were feeling, you would be apologizing.

“Yeah, yeah of course.” He says quickly, moving around the kitchen and fixing you a glass.

He hands it to you and you take some heavy gulps. It’s cold and slices through your throat. It lays into your stomach uncomfortably but you prefer it over a dry and heavy tongue. 

You place it back down on the table, taking a deep breath. You feel the sweating start to dissipate and your stomach slowly settles.

You bring your palm to your head and quickly blink away. 

You hated throwing up.

“Sorry, about that.”

He chuckles and gives you a smile as he takes his own seat across from you, “That’s okay. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

You weren’t too sure, but you don’t say that. “Yeah, I don’t know what that was,” you look back down at the plate that begins to look somewhat appetizing again, “Believe me, it wasn’t the food. This smells delicious and looks delicious.” He opens the glass the red wine and offers some to you. You quickly shake your head, giving him a wave of rejection with your hand. Just the thought of wine made your stomach turn again, “I’ll stick to the water for now.” He nods and pours himself a glass, “Sorry if I’m quiet. I’m a bit nervous.”

“Nervous why?”

You shrug, digging a fork into your chicken and swirling it around.

“I don’t know. I’m just like that.”

He says your name and you stop poking your fork to look up at him, “It’s me. We’ve been friends for a few months now. I’m not some stranger.”

You smile. He was right.

“I know, trust me. It’s just…” you think for a moment and then start laughing, “God, we’re literally on a date, during the apocalypse, like this is just weird, ya know?”

Pietro frowns.

“Apocalypse? We’re safe in here, in these walls. Everyone is safe in here.”

Your smile drops.

You stare at him and begin to wonder if he’s actually being serious. Was the majority of the people in here really convinced that this was it? That everything was perfect? Was Hydra really that capable? Part of you is proud of your parent’s work because you truly were safe because of what they built, but the world was still out there, living. There was still more. This wasn’t supposed to be a permanent solution. 

There were people out there still dying, trying to survive. And these people had no idea, including Pietro.

You realize you’re quickly going into dark territory and you don’t want Pietro digging into what you were trying to say, accidentally blowing your cover.

“You’re right. I don’t know why I said that.” You say quickly. You bring the chicken to your mouth, taking a small and careful bite, “This is so good.” You say after chewing and swallowing.

“I’m glad you liked it. I made some lava cakes for desert, too.”

You laugh.

“Are you a cook?”

“Nah. Just watch a lot of Tiny Kitchen.”

You perk a brow.

“Tiny Kitchen?”

“You’ve never heard of Tiny Kitchen?”

You laugh, placing your fork down on the plate. 

“No, what the hell is it? A small kitchen?”

“Literally what it is. I’ll show it to you afterwards.” 

“Okay.” You grin.

You look down at your plate again, wanting to go in for another bite, but for some reason you just can’t.

+ + +

He doesn’t get past episode three. He can’t. 

Not when all thoughts of you clouded his mind. He knows Pietro is good people, so he’s entirely not concerned about that. 

He knows he’s jealous. He knows that. 

The jealousy mixed in with the anticipation of how the rest of the mission will play out worries him. 

He wanted you home and near him, but since that wasn’t going to happen, he was home by himself, glooming.

He knows he needed a distraction right away so he picks up some of his things from the dining table, slides on a light jacket, and makes his way towards the tower.

He knows the blueprint of the tower already and he’s able to navigate himself into stairwell of the apartment on the top floor. 

After weeks of dissecting, you both found out that Ashens’ father, Ashen, and his mother don’t live here with the boy. For safety precautions, which are obvious why, he’s being housed in under high security and under the supervision of some au pair who is as clueless of his importance as the day is young.

Bucky knows that what he’s about to do borders on breaking boundaries, and downright creepy. 

But this was a situation he would qualify as desperate times comes to desperate measures.

Bucky’s able to bypass security, taking a security outfit off a ‘poor’ victim (he scoffs) as he does soon. 

He’s just outside the boy’s bedroom when he hears the nanny tell Ashens goodnight.

When she’s leaving she tells Bucky in a heavy Bulgarian accent, clearly thinking he’s just a regular guard, that Ashens is about to go to sleep. Bucky keeps his head down and nods.

The clueless ar pair goes the opposite way, presumably to her own bedroom.

Bucky waits a few moments before knocking on the boy’s door.

He hears the little boy give out permission to come in. Bucky opens the door.

The bedroom is plain and depressing. There’s a bed with plain white sheets, a small nightstand, and a large window. There are no toys and nothing that would show any proof that a child resided here. 

The room is not one he would expect for a boy Ashens’ age.

The little boy sits up in bed, his eyes squinting at the figure in his doorway.

“Hello.” The boy squeaks out.

Bucky practically laughs at how easy it was to get here. For a boy they are trying so hard to keep protected from just anyone, it was quite easy ending up just a few feet away from him.

Bucky’s had his fair share of experiences with kids, having a little sister himself. He knows he has to do this differently.

“Hi.” Bucky says lightly, almost too cheerfully.

The boy continues to stare at him as Bucky closes the door behind him, but not letting it close shut just yet.

“Who are you?”

Bucky slowly takes off his halo looking helmet and the boy squints at Bucky’s revealed face.

Bucky tucks the helmet under his arm and smiles.

“Can you keep a secret?”

The boy looks at him for a few more seconds before nodding slowly.

It’s not until Bucky is closer to the boy that his eyebrows shoot up,

“Wait. I know who you are.” Bucky can’t tell if the boy is excited or surprised, but the reaction makes Bucky’s chest swell.

This might go down easier than he expected.

“I -I  was so little when I had the toy but,” the boy starts to talk excitedly and Bucky has to hide a growing smile, “Because I can’t have toys anymore. Not since we moved here. I was little but I remember,” the boy and Bucky both narrow their eyes at each other as if it’s a game to who would say it first, “it’s captain America. You ever heard of captain America?”

Bucky bites his lip. 

“No, never.” He says sarcastically. “Oh, he’s the best. You look like his friend, but I don’t remember his name. He used to be the winter soldier and then he became good.”

Bucky’s heart swells again. The boy’s joy was so pure.

“Oh, yea?”

“Yeah. Dad didn’t like them vey much, though,” his face drops as he looks away from Bucky, “I didn’t like how happy he was when they all died. But no one knows that just us I think,” when Ashens looks up again, Bucky’s face is more solemn this time, “Are you sure you’re not the winter soldier?” The boy whispers the question.

Bucky considers his next words carefully. He places the helmet at the feet of the boy’s bed.

“If I told you I was?”

“I would be surprised because I though you were dead, and also I would be confused. Because why you here?”

Bucky nods. He looks away and then back at Ashens.

“Would you tell your dad?” He asks quietly. This was important.

The boy looks at him for a bit before answering.

“No. He would kill you. Daddy’s not on the good side.”

“And you believe I’m on the good side, right?”

“Yes. You’re an Avenger.”

Bucky bites his lip and looks around the room. This boy was good. It angered him that his own father wanted him killed. Now, more than ever, he wanted to rescue this boy. 

“Can you trust me?” Bucky asks, suddenly serious. 

The boy nods.

“Am I in trouble?” He asks timidly. “What do you mean?” “Ae you here to save me, sir?”

The question broke Bucky’s heart, but he nods.

“I trust you.” The boy’s eyes dart down Bucky’s left side, “Can I feel you arm?” The edge of Bucky’s lips perk up as he takes a seat, “and what does it feel like to hold the shield? Did you really know Iron Man? Black Panther always said —”

+  +  +

By the time Bucky is back you’re already home in your pajamas tucked into bed.

“Hey. Where’d you go?” You ask him as he takes off his coat, draping it over one of the chairs in the dining area.

He kicks off his shoes and reaches back, pulling off his shirt. He walks over to the closet for a new one.

“I met Ashens.”

You raise your brows at this. You knew it was part of the plan to happen, but you didn’t expect it to be today.

“What?”

Bucky also pulls out a new and clean pair of boxers, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah. We spoke for a bit.” “And he didn’t recognize you?” “No, he did,” Bucky says simply, eyes going over to you. You looked so pretty, comforter pulled up under your clothed breasts, a book in your hands, and a messy bun in your hair. He wanted you. He looks away, remembering where you had just been, “He knows I’m here. He won’t tell his dad." “How can you be so sure?” “I’m an Avenger, aren’t I? That’s what everyone tells me, has been telling me.” He says it bitterly. Bucky sighs, closing the closet door and then walking over to the bed near you, “Because I made him a promise that I was here to save him. I think he knows his dad is bad news. He’s a smart kid. He knows his dad hits his mom, too.” Bucky’s voice is soft.

“So you trust he’ll keep this between us?”

“I do.”

You nod. You watch Bucky’s eyes as his stare stays on you, unnerving.

“And you?” You voice shakes as you ask, “How are you? Ya know, after?”

Bucky nods his head.

“I’m alright, ya know? I — ,” something happens to him that you had never seen before. A wave of happiness washes over Bucky’s face like a fresh cup of lemonade. His eyes shine and a bright smile fills his face. Even his voice sounds perkier, “It was just so nice talking to him. He’s such a sweet kid. I know we’re doing the right thing,” his eyes meet yours again and his voice lowers to a deep tone, “We’re both going to walk away from this mission with more than we thought.” It’s the first time he’s said that you are both going to walk away from the mission together, and not just you. He knows that. Bucky clears his throat, “You definitely won’t run into his father. He’s not living with him to avoid attention and possible abductions. Ashens is a literal rapunzel right now.”

“Good. That’s good.” Obviously it wasn’t. But it was good for the both of you. You had less chances of running into Ashen.

Bucky takes in a deep breath when he realizes his eyes are lingering on your collarbones for far too long.

“How was your date?” He actually doesn’t want to even know, the thought of you and Pietro makes him sick, but he knows he needs to show courtesy. They can’t ignore it forever. “It was fine. I wasn’t feeling too well, though—“

Bucky’s eyes narrow.

“—Oh no, I’m sorry.”

 “Couldn’t eat. But,” you took a deep breath and eyed the hallway, "Brought some in a small Tupperware if you want it. It’s in the kitchen.”

Bucky ignores the flutter in his heat at the mention that you thought of him. Thought of him enough to bring the leftovers for him.

He smiles.

“What is it?” “Chicken Parm.” You watch as Bucky continues to watch you, eyes still sparkling. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. You’re happy, right?” Your eyes flicker away for a moment.

“Y-yeah.”

He knows he’s not fine so he lies. 

“Then I’m fine. You looked great by the way.” He adds quickly.

You tilt your head at him and he tilts his back.

Damnit, he needed you.

“Yeah?” You ask hoarsely. 

He wanted you.

“You’re glowing.” He says.

 +  + +

Jazz and burlesque shows were the epitome of everything she had lived for up until she was sixteen years old. The smell of handmade lace garters and expensive perfume still lingered in the back of her mind, bringing her a feeling of contentment and a strange longing for the past. 

Nostalgia would overwhelm her as she looked on at what was the exact contrast to her innocence – her mother’s hugs. She missed those nights where she’d play some 12’s of her beat up vinyl on her record, the scratches adding to Peggy Lee’s voice a twinge of imperfection that made it the perfect tone. 

With nothing on but her undergarments, and a pair of leg garters accompanied with knee high black stockings, she’d open her closet to a huge collection of gorgeous cocktail dresses. A couple handful landed just above her knees, not many past her mid shin - Scandalous and mildly scandalous. Her parents would kill her if they ever found out she even owned them (let alone have them in their home) so she kept those hidden in a little pile in the back corner of the wardrobe. 

She had every right to be terrified for many reasons. It’s not that she was not loyal or a rebel, per say. She was born and raised into a Christian family, all strict rules of modesty and heavy morals applied to her daily life. She was always daddy’s little girl in the simplest sense possible. 

She wouldn’t ever dare roll her eyes at him or purposefully make him disapprove of her, ever. Sure, she was raised in a rich family, so she was used to getting everything she always wanted. Material things being at the top of the list. Even then she remained as humble as possible. 

Especially when she thought her strong faith was behind it all. 

Do well for God, he gives back in return, right?  At least that’s what her naïve self believed at the time. But she’d never admit it to her family that she now thought otherwise, especially to her mom. 

If anything, God was now banning them all to Hell anyway.

Her vanity was those of every girl’s dreams. Drawers filled with everything you could only wish of having. Inside were lingerie of every shade (from fiery red to pure jet black, like the night sky in the city), style, and earrings of every pearl and diamond crystal variety you could think. Her favorite would always be the garters. 

She’d clip each of the four clasps into place just above her knees with her nimble fingers and then she’d sit opened legged in front of the mirror. 

Diligently, and with prestige dexterity, she’d apply her blood red lipstick and her four inch black heels. 

After an o shape with her lips around her fingers and a loud pop, she’d walk around her room and close her eyes, envisioning herself as a burlesque girl and a sensual song playing in the background. After all, she had all the right in the world to be the exact opposite at night than what she was during the day. Morally, at least.

 She still remained as the same sweet, innocent, and faithful young girl she always was. But she had big hopes and dreams, especially in film and dance. God should be okay with dreams, she thought.

When she had learned the truth it was just short of her 20th birthday. She unwontedly found out that her father and brother were different souls at night, too. She wished she never found out that everything that had been lying in front of her had been a lie, and instead of life being a gifted blessing it was instead a bloody carcass hades. 

Their life wasn’t one she liked to admit to partaking in. There were times where she would trick into telling herself that they weren’t doing it. She’d trick herself into thinking that way so that when she saw her dad that night, she’d be able to surpass the strong smell of whiskey and gun powder and kiss him goodnight. 

Jimmy would roll his eyes with a shove past her shoulder.  

As much as she detested it, she knew that without them, they wouldn’t be living in one of the most beautiful homes in all of Manhattan in complete safety. It was because of them that she wasn’t living out in the slums. She tried to divide that part of harsh reality from her brain as much as she could. Eventually, the pros outweighed the cons.

Maybe it was the fact that her body had finally developed into a women’s body. Her breasts were now fully perked and her legs were long and porcelain gorgeous; all she knew was they figured she could be put to good use. 

At first she was repulsed by her own father’s comment, but if it meant having dinner that night and not getting killed, she would swallow those nagging feelings and take it head on. It never lasted too long anyway, and all she had to do was stand there and be her brother’s accessory.

When her father brought her into the business, he told her she would thank him one day when she had children of her own- she’d have all the men of the lower east side wrapped around her pretty little finger.

 She was alright with it, until something happened that she would never forget. She had to swallow the repulsive bile and control herself not to run away then and there. She was too far in and knew way too much.

It was just another Tuesday night and she had been sitting at the dinner table, when both her mom and dad had stepped out of the dining room and into the kitchen. She ate her soup quietly, not being able to stop thinking about going back to her room to play burlesque, when Jimmy had turned to her.

 At first it was the sudden motion that caught her attention, it had made a strand of blonde hair fly off her arm. Then it was the feral look in his eyes. 

“Daisy,” his voice was low and dangerous. Daisy knew that tone very well because it was the tone all the other men used on their nights of missions. She was terrified and disgusted.  Wide eyes trailed from her eyes to her full red lips and she felt a cold rigid finger against the heat of her skin on her upper thigh, pushing the fabric slightly up. She gulped.  

Jimmy smiled, “You gorgeous thing.”

She thought about telling her father but she knew that if he found out, the one partnership that was bringing them the most cash would be jeopardized and it would have to be terminated and he’d be more than upset. She knew when her dad got angry, it was not good. It’s was messy and bad. 

Back at dinner, her father would say grace before they ate, all of them hand in hand, and her mom would sit there quietly, a terrified and exhausted look in her smiles. She had heavy bags that weren’t there years ago, and her hair that used to always be done was now up in a messy clip, the baby hairs hanging against her wrinkled forehead, messy and unruly. But still she managed to smile, even if it wasn’t a real smile. It was all a stupid act. 

 It reminded Daisy of how she herself was when she was 16 - pretending to be oblivious to what her family were doing to the innocent. And so she hated her mom for that, for being just like her. 

She felt disgusted in herself, she felt disgust for her family. Oh how she missed those days of when she was a child, before she even knew the truth. It was all so much simpler back then and she was so much happier.  The worst it used to get was when her mother would tell her stories about when she was a nurse back in WWI. 

She had wanted to be like her mom at first. Her mom was quiet, humble, caring, and extremely gracious. It’s what made her such a good person to have back in the war to help the soldiers- she was strong willed and knew she could help and would in her best ability do so. But those stories made Daisy question why any man in his right mind would want to do such a thing to their own body- putting themselves at such a risk. 

Sure, she was privileged by riches, but problems didn’t have to be solved by violence. There must be other ways, like prayer or simply believing. 

Her mother would tell her the graphic stories of the injuries that made Daisy queasy and fidget in her seat. She loved her mom’s qualities and how willing she was to help others who were injured and almost dying, but it still made no sense to her.

 When daisy questioned her concerned to her mother she had simply said:

“Don’t question acts of the daring and misinterpret it for insanity. Simply thank the courages ones for their heart and strong character, for not all are willing to do the good and get destroyed in the worst way, not for their own benefit, but for others.”

To this day, Daisy wondered if her mom was indirectly referencing her own father- him lacking thereof. 

Next, she wondered about when her mom stopped believing her own words.  

Daisy wondered if she’d ever meet one one day - a soldier. Someone willing to get destroyed. Or if her mom had been lying and all men are the same, evil like her father and brother.

But she was evil, too.

No, I don't wanna fall in love.

A/N: yes. she’s pregnant.

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[tommybaholland]

Hello, I have a request that's been eating at me. I read a lot of fics where the reader is afraid of thunderstorms, but I really can't relate. My family used to sit on the porch and watch the lightning like I was looking at fireworks, the rumbles lull me to sleep. I was also one of those kids who rain outside in heavy rain. Can I request some Shouto, Izuku, Kaachan and Kaminari heacanons with an S/O who looooves thunderstorms and heavy rains please?

s/o who loves thunderstorms 

featuring: todoroki, midoriya, bakugo, and kaminari

the older i get the more i appreciate the sounds of heavy nature. i also like the idea of flipping concepts and doing something different! thank you and enjoy. x

todoroki

he also enjoys the soothing sound of thunder and heavy rain

he’s already a pretty sleepy boy so staying up and watching storms with you is almost out of the question

he’ll do it if you want but he’ll most likely be fast asleep in about ten minutes 

and you’ll know when his head starts to lean into your shoulder 

he prefers falling asleep with you during a storm

he finds the sentiment very comforting and the way you snuggle up to him makes him feel all warm and cozy

he’s not a huge fan of you running outside in the rain but he can’t complain if it makes you happy, he’s happy to watch you from a drier spot

one time you asked him if his quirk would work during a storm 

like if he could freeze the rain or if he could even use his fire side at all

that got him thinking and he became curious about it too because he didn’t know either

he did have preconceived notions about it like that his fire side would be particularly useless during a heavy rainstorm

and that he could only make ice itself and wasn’t so sure that he could freeze moving rain

you thought that maybe this could be a new revelation for his power and that he could combine the two quirks and create steam or something

although he was doubtful, he tried anyway but the rain was still affecting his ability mostly to produce heat 

“it looks like i’ll have to try it another time when it’s not raining. now, we should get inside before you get sick, my love.”

he makes sure you’re all showered and dry and comfy before getting relaxed with him under a blanket 

at this point you’re glued to his left side because of how warm he is 

he’ll even raise the temperature a little higher so it feels like the blanket just came out of the dryer and you feel so comfortable 

it makes you fully relax as you doze off on him with the soothing sound of rain hitting the building in the background

he sees you struggling to stay awake, “you can fall asleep on me if you like, baby.”

he rubs your back with his warm hand and kisses your head, effectively making you succumb to sleep 

midoriya

he seems like someone who would be spooked by thunder and lightning claps

so you’d most likely be the one comforting him during a storm

and he definitely doesn’t like you going outside in that kind of weather

he’s afraid you’ll get struck by lightning

however, he wants to beat this fear of storms because he might have to fight a villain during one and he wants to be prepared for anything 

so he starts practicing kicks outside whenever it rains 

more like every time it rains 

and he’ll be out there for a while, just trying to improve his mobility in the rain 

which is not out of character for him

even before you started dating, you knew that he was persistent and didn’t give up so easily 

it’s both a good and bad quality to have 

the bad being that he doesn’t know when to quit, even when his body is telling him to do so

you felt a little hypocritical about dragging him out of the rain like he’s done to you 

but this wasn’t so much about the rain than about what he’s doing to himself 

once you finally get him inside and make sure a hot shower, warm clothes, and some tea are in order 

 he’s very grateful for how much you take care of him

“thank you, sweetie. i know i can push it too hard sometimes but i do appreciate what you do for me. you should try training out in the rain too sometime though!”

it’s hard not to smile at his undying enthusiasm

you agree to go out with him next time but for the time being, you’d rather stay inside and listening to the storm with him

even though he trains outside in the rain now, it doesn’t change him getting jumpy from the thunder claps

but luckily, he has you to snuggle into him to look forward to

bakugo

he doesn’t understand your fascination of heavy rain and thunder 

meanwhile he’s literally out like a light during storms

he’s used to loud noises like that given his quirk so it never bothers him

it can keep you up though because you just love to watch it

so he doesn’t love to share a bed with you during a storm as he just wants to sleep 

more like he just wants you to sleep next to him instead of watching some stupid rain 

“hey, dumbass. quit staring out the window and come lay next to me!” 

he literally has to drag you to bed so you don’t stay up too late

he’ll hold you tight against his body to try to get you to relax and go to sleep

but then you’ll start squirming in his hold and feeling those movements against him makes him blush

“why are you so fidgety, you idiot?”

he ends up laying on top of you, which is perfectly fine because it’s one of his favorite ways to cuddle you anyway

he will not, however, run around like an idiot outside in the rain

he also doesn’t even care that midoriya is training outside in the rain because what villain would be dumb enough to attack in a thunderstorm?

he usually has to go out to reign you in at some point 

and one time when he finally caught you by your wrists, he couldn’t help but notice how attractive you were in that moment

your hair drenched was and stuck to your neck 

and he was mesmerized by the droplets of rainwater running down to pool in your heaving collarbones 

he felt the need to pull you in for a kiss with his hands holding either side of your head

he was definitely the stupidest thing he had ever done but the way you looked at him after the heated kiss was all worth it

unfortunately, he got sick after that and blames you for all of it but he feels lucky that you’re there to take care of him

kaminari

he likes them but mostly because he feels “more powerful” due to the lightning

so he’s more of a heat storm person that likes to watch the lightning behind the clouds

he can get a little too overzealous about it, “what if i could bend lightning like in avatar? wouldn’t that be the coolest, babe?” 

you point out that he can already bend lightning but he thinks that ‘electrification’ doesn’t sound as cool

sometimes he attributes your attraction to him to your love of thunderstorms and lightning

you had never really made the connection and you always tell him that he’s just a cute and sweet boy that love you too

he also can get a little jumpy with the thunder because sometimes it’s really loud and you never know when the loud ones are going to hit

he’ll try to keep himself from getting too scared 

but then he sees how midoriya’s s/o is when midoriya gets jumpy with the thunder 

so sometimes he’ll exaggerate his shivers and jumps when you’re cuddling him during a storm so you’ll get even closer to him 

then the warmth and weight of your body against him makes him blush

he’d be the most willing to go out into the rain with you

let’s face it, the real reason you’re dating him is that you’re both idiots

one time he decides to try to bend the lightning from the storm and just caused a huge explosion 

thank god you were with him because he ended up short circuiting and would’ve been left out there alone 

it took a lot of your energy to get him back home and you nearly collapsed once you had returned

he felt really bad after that and apologized profusely for putting you in danger

you also ended up falling ill after that so he made sure that you were well cared for 

he brought you all your favorite snacks and things but made sure you were drinking water 

and he got you a white noise machine that played heavy rain and thunderstorm sounds so that you would get adequate rest 

even if he can’t exactly lightning bend, he still makes you just as happy as storms do

welcome back to bnha night! request some ideas..

[multifandomoneshotss]

A Helping Hand

Fandom: American Horror Story

Cordelia Goode x Reader

Summary: You’re a close friend of Cordelia’s, and after the acid attack leaves her blind, you vow to help her with her every need. Little did she know that you were in love with her. 

A/N: This takes place in Coven, but Hank does not exist in this story, so Cordelia’s last name never became Foxx. She is always referred to with Goode as her last name.

You have been attending Robichaux academy for about 2 years now after you discovered your powers during a witnessed burglary. A man tried to steal a woman’s purse and all you had to do was look at him before he was suddenly set on fire. Shortly after the incident, your parents dropped you off at the academy and have been there ever since.

The first person you met when you first arrived was Cordelia, and when you locked eyes with her, your stomach fluttered slightly at the beauty in front of you. Her blonde hair was wavy and silky to the touch. Her brown eyes looked down at you with care, more than you had ever felt in your life, and over time, you couldn’t help but fall in love with her.

Time passed and you and Cordelia became close friends. She enjoyed your company whenever she was working on her potions in the greenhouse. You liked when she was able to help you with your own powers, teaching you spells, and soon you were able to perform magic that even some of the other girls couldn’t do. And even though you were in love with Cordelia, you’ve never had the courage to tell her.

You were devastated when you heard about Cordelia’s attack. You rushed to the hospital as soon as Fiona had called you.

“Cordelia Goode, what room is she in?” you asked a nurse hurriedly. They lead you to her room and you burst in the door, immediately rushing to her side, taking her hand in yours. She flinched it away in fear.

“Delia, it’s me, Y/N,” you said softly as you slowly, gently take her hand once again.

“Y/N...” she trailed off, relaxing into your touch.

That is when you realized that she is blind. The brown eyes that would gaze lovingly down at you were no longer there.

Suddenly, Cordelia gasped and let go of your hand, clutching it against her chest.

“Delia, what’s wrong?” you asked, worry beginning to cycle through you.

“She has second sight now,” Fiona responded. You jerked your head towards her when you heard her voice. You didn’t even know that she was there.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that by touching someone, she can see what they are thinking about, like a vision.”

You gulped nervously, knowing that you were thinking about how much you love her. What did she see? you thought to yourself. You never got an answer because Cordelia had fallen asleep.

Now, ever since the attack, you have done nothing but help Cordelia in any way that you can. You bring her cups of coffee in the morning after helping her get downstairs, always making sure her delicate fingers are wrapped around the steaming mug before letting go. You help her get dressed after her showers every day, and you can’t help but blush every time. Anything that she needed done, you were there by her side.

One morning, after getting Cordelia her usual cup of coffee, you were sitting at the kitchen table next to her, staring at her. Even though there wasn’t much to her eyes any longer, you still thought she was beautiful. You also couldn’t help but admire her strength through all of this. You couldn’t imagine being blind, not knowing your surroundings. But somehow Cordelia was able to persist through it, even telling you that you didn’t have to help her.

“You know, Y/N, it’s been a while since what happened, and while I appreciate everything you’re doing for me, I think I’ll be alright on my own.”

“But I want to help you, Delia. I care about you, and I don’t want you to end up hurting yourself. You can’t see. Please, let me be here for you, just like you were there for me when I first came here.

You cupped her face in your hands, bringing her closer to you. You felt heat rush down your neck at her close proximity to you. “Everyone needs a helping hand at some point right?”

After that, Cordelia had let you take care of her, and now, as she is sitting at the table drinking her coffee, she couldn’t be more grateful for you. Sometimes she still had the feeling of wanting to do things for herself, but she always told herself not to and left it for you to do.

She hears the chair next to her scrape across the floor as you stand up. “I’m going to go check on Zoe and Queenie, make sure they’re awake. I need their help with a spell I’m working on. I’ll be right back.”

You weren’t really thinking when you leaned down and kissed her lightly on the cheek. You blushed as you walked away. What the hell were you thinking?

Cordelia slowly brought her hand up to her cheek, smiling softly at the tingle that your lips left behind on her skin. She had recently developed feelings for you as well, and longed for more of your touch. She was pretty sure that the feelings were one-sided, though, so she kept it a secret.

She sat there for a while, no sign or your return to the kitchen. She could hear other footsteps, but she knew what yours sounded like; none of them were yours. Soon her coffee mug was empty, and she thought she would be able to handle getting more for herself, so she slowly rose from her seat, clutching the cup  so hard so she wouldn’t drop it. Cordelia felt the table around her and then walked in the direction towards the fridge, forgetting her can leaning up against the table. Her hand was out in front of her, and it soon found the fridge.

Alright, now move to the right, she thought to herself. Her hand finally found the coffee maker and she let out a sigh of relief. She placed down her cup on the counter, not realizing that it was on the edge, and it fell to the floor, breaking into a million tiny pieces. Cordelia jumped at the sound.

“Shit!” she yelled.

You had heard the noise from upstairs and you immediately rushed down to her. You saw her trying to bend down and clean the mess.

“Delia, don’t touch that, you could cut yourself,” you say as you get on your knees, beginning to pick up the sharp shards off the floor.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I just wanted more coffee. I though I could do it myself. I’m sorry.”

You look up at her to see tears running down her face. You drop the pieces in your hand and wrap your arms around her in a tight embrace. She leans into you, sobs coursing through her body.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault. It’s a simple mistake, alright? Nothing to worry about, I’m right here, okay? I’m not letting you go.” You saying anything you can think of to comfort her as you hold her, running your hand through her hair.

Cordelia grips your shirt while she cries, and you both sit there for a while before Fiona enters the room.

“What the hell is going on in here?”

“Everything’s alright,” you respond. “Cordelia just dropped her cup. She was only trying to refill it herself.”

“I suggest you get off the floor and clean up this mess. And you.” She points at Cordelia. “You need to toughen up. It’s a coffee mug, so what?”

Fiona walks away before Cordelia can say anything, and tears threaten to spill from her eyes once again. You notice and place a hand on her thigh.

“Don’t listen to her, okay? I understand how you feel. I’ve never been in your situation, but I’ve been through the same pain. And I want you to know that I’ll always be here to clean up your little accidents.”

Cordelia chuckles and a smile spreads across her face. “Thank you.”

                                           ***

News of Fiona’s death shocked the entire coven. You might not have liked her because of how she treated Cordelia, but you still respected her. She was the Supreme after all. But her death meant that a new Supreme needed to be crowned.

You began to prepare for the Seven Wonders with the other girls, perfecting as many as you could before the day of the tests came. But you had a gut feeling that you wouldn’t pass, and you were right.

You failed on the Concilium test, something that you thought was going to be easy, but even after putting in all the energy you could muster, it didn’t work, and you were okay with that. You didn’t really want to be Supreme anyways.

While Zoe, Queenie, Madison, and Misty were doing the Descensum test, you sat on the sofa next to Cordelia.

“I’m proud of you for trying,” Cordelia whispers to you, gently placing a hand on your back. You smiled back, leaning into her touch. Then, to your surprise, she wrapped her arm around your waist and pulled you closer to her, so close that you could smell the lavender-scented dryer sheets she likes when you wash her clothes. You lean your head on her shoulder, taking a deep inhale of the scent, and that is when you truly understood how she felt about you.

As the last of the sand runs through the hourglass, all but Misty have passed the test.

“No, please, we have to save her,” Cordelia says, kneeling next to Misty’s body.

“I’m sorry, my dear. We can’t help her,” Myrtle responds, and you could hear the pain in her voice. She really thought that Misty would be the Supreme.

Cordelia holds Misty’s body against her own, sobs rippling through her. You get up from the sofa and kneel down next to her, rubbing your hand on her shoulder. Misty’s body then disintegrates, and Cordelia moves her hands around, as if trying to find her again. They land on you, and she immediately pulls you towards her, putting all of her weight on you. You hold her tightly against you, moving your hand up and down her back to soothe her. It was hard for you not to break down and cry yourself. You had a big connection to Misty. Maybe not like the one you have with Cordelia, but you and Misty both felt alone in the world until your arrivals at the academy. Because of that, you have bonded. But you stayed strong, because Cordelia needed you now more than ever.

                                             ***

The transmutation test soon took place, and you watched in horror as Zoe somehow impaled herself on the top of the front gate. She was quickly moved to a table in Cordelia’s greenhouse, but she was quickly losing blood. She lost consciousness, locking eyes with you before they fluttered closed. Kyle held her face and cried over her, and a deep sadness filled the air.

Everyone looked to Madison to assist in helping Zoe.

“Why should I do it?”

“Because Vitalum Vitalis is one of the Seven Wonders,” Cordelia replies and you could see the anger coursing through her.

Madison smashes a fly on the table, picking it up and closing her hands around it. She opens them and the fly buzzes away. “Is that good enough for ya?”

“Madison, please,” Myrtle pleads. “Bring Zoe back to us.”

“No, I won’t. I passed the test, there’s no need for me to help her.”

You knew she wasn’t going to change her mind. You looked over at Zoe as more of her life drained out of her. “I’m sorry,” you whisper to her, placing your warm hand on top of her cold one. Just then, a thought came to you.

“Wait a minute, what about Cordelia?”

She turns toward you, confused. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”

“Don’t you think that maybe you could possibly be the next Supreme?”

Cordelia stands there for a moment before she says, “No, I don’t think I’m cut out for it.”

“Cordelia, my dear, the least you can do is try. Madison does need a competitor as well,” Myrtle states.

She ponders on it for a couple of minutes before caving in.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

“We begin your tests tomorrow morning.”

                                           ***

The next morning, Cordelia’s tests were underway, and you watched in awe as she effortlessly completed them one by one. When she was doing Concilium, she picked you to mess with, making you walk over to Madison and slap her face.

“Hey, don’t hit me like that!”

‘Sorry, Delia made me do it.”

Cordelia chuckled under her breath at what she was hearing, clearly enjoying the scene.

Soon she was head-to-head with Madison to complete Divination, and within two minutes, she had it done.

“Your turn, Madison,” she said to her.

“Oh come on, this is stupid. Do I really have to do this?”

“Ooooh, sounds like someone can’t complete Divination,” Queenie teased as she stood beside me.

“No, shut up, I can do it.”

But she couldn’t. Everything she did was wrong. She failed.

You looked at Cordelia, and even though she couldn’t see you, she seemed to be looking back at you, and something in the air shifted. You knew that you were looking at the next Supreme.

“Does this mean....” you begin to question.

“There’s one more test: Vitalum Vitalis,” Myrtle replied.

Soon you were all back in the greenhouse, you holding Cordelia’s hand as you led her to Zoe’s body on the table.

“You got this,” you murmur in her ear before letting go of her hand.

Standing behind her, you watch as Cordelia leans over Zoe. You couldn’t see exactly what she was doing, but after about a minute, Zoe’s eyes pop open and she inhales sharply. Cordelia falls to the ground, losing consciousness. You quickly get down on the floor next to her, lightly tapping her face.

“Cordelia, please wake up. Come on, please wake up.”

And she does, the first thing you see being her brown eyes looking up at you. She could see again.

“Our new Supreme,” Myrtle says with glee behind you.

You’re still looking down at Cordelia when she mutters, “I missed seeing your pretty face.”

You blushed at the compliment, heart filling with happiness. “You did it, Delia. You can see, you passed the Seven Wonders, you’re the Supreme. I’m so proud of you.”

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned down and placed your lips on hers, bringing your hand up to cup her cheek. Cordelia, though shocked at first, melted into the kiss, her soft, plump lips delicately moving against yours. A hand travels to your head, entangling fingers in your hair. You slowly pulled away, lingering for a moment before opening your eyes. You couldn’t help but smile at the beautiful woman below you.

“I love you, Cordelia,” you say softly, lightly touching your forehead against hers, lacing your fingers together. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Y/N. Always.”

[onebatch2batch]

kastle + "“Is that.. my shirt?” please and thank you❤️❤️

HI, I KNOW YOU SENT THIS A MILLION YEARS AGO BUT I JUST FINISHED IT SO HOPEFULLY YOU LIKE IT <3

--

If there’s one thing Karen hates most in the world, it’s laundry. Which isn’t entirely warranted, because a majority of her things are dry clean only, and she usually only has to do a load or two herself every other week—but still. She hates that it feels like an all day affair, she hates folding everything, she hates the feel of the lint of her fingers when she removes it from the filter. So when a warm Saturday in June arrives and she’s low on clothes, like really low on clothes, Karen realizes she should start a load. 

Unfortunately, her body is not on board with the idea. She wakes up slow, eats some late breakfast, and lethargically gathers the clothes strewn about her apartment. It’s a Saturday, so she has nothing to do but procrastinate. Procrastination forces her into the shower, and procrastination has her drinking coffee in a towel at the edge of her bed as she realizes that she has nothing to put on. It’s either she wears a skirt and blouse around the apartment or a towel until the first load is done. 

Or, her brain supplies helpfully, there’s Frank’s drawer. 

Karen’s eyes slide unwittingly towards her dresser, where the bottom drawer remains firmly closed. He’s been out of town for the last week or so with Curtis, up in the mountains with absolutely no reception. She knows it’s good for him to get away every once in a while, especially with his friends, but part of her—the smallest part, the only part not thinly veiled in denial—wishes he would have asked her along. It’s a thought she’s had a lot in the last couple days, accompanied by the hollow ache left by his absence. 

God, she misses him. 

She misses his surprise visits that turn into too much wine and inevitably leading to his crashing on the couch. She misses waking in the morning to freshly brewed coffee and he at the kitchen counter, head bowed over a book. She misses walking into the bathroom and inhaling Frank’s steamy post-shower smell: cedarwood, something earthy, something subtly metallic. It’s both a blessing and a curse to have him stay the night at her place; she only wishes it was in her bed, not on the couch. 

Karen sighs. Goosebumps are starting to pebble on her skin from the AC, and so she steels her resolve and kneels before Frank’s drawer. She’d casually offered it to him months ago over breakfast. You spend the night enough, she tells him while staring resolutely into her mug. Might as well have a change of clothes here just in case you need them. 

She had felt his eyes on her, all intense heat and wariness, long enough for her to fidget. And then finally he’d said: Yeah. Yeah, okay. Thanks, Karen. 

The drawer is filled with a myriad of things, and not just clothes. On the top of the pile there’s a paperback by Jack Kerouac, a box of ammo, and a pair of spare keys she suspects is to that intimidating black van he drives. Underneath is a pair of socks, boxers (that she hurriedly paws past), some grey sweatpants (that look absolutely sinful on him, she recalls), and a pair of dark jeans. At the very bottom is a long sleeved henley and a plain black t shirt—Karen pulls out the t shirt and slips it over her head before she can talk herself out of it.

It’s comfortable, if a little too big. The hem hangs just past her hips when she stands, so Karen slips on a pair of underwear and leaves it at that. The rest of the afternoon she spends doing laundry and pretending as if she can’t smell him on her with every inhale. And when the guilt starts to eat at her, she tells herself that the shirt will be cleaned and replaced before Frank even knows it’s missing. 

—

Except it isn’t, because of course it isn’t. 

Hour three of dragging herself through the slowest washing machine cycle in the world (she’d splurged a little on an apartment with a hook up, too unwilling to deal with the laundromat down the block) and the worst dryer to accompany it (she hadn’t so much splurged on the actual machines)—finds Karen on the couch, flipping through the television channels. It’s nearly four o’clock and the temperature outside has finally broken, so the air is off and the windows are open. A soft breeze occasionally brushes over the exposed skin of her legs. And there’s absolutely nothing on the television. 

So she does what any sane person would do, and returns to Frank’s drawer for the book. Not that she doesn’t have plenty of her own reading material, but she’s never read Kerouac and she’s a little curious what Frank sees in him. It’s halfway through the first chapter that she realizes there’s a key turning in the lock, and that Frank’s back. 

Because of course he would walk in to this: her, clothed in underwear and his t shirt and no bra; sitting with her legs stretched across the couch cushions, back against the arm; his book in her hands as she struggles to parse the casual run-ons of Kerouac; a basket of half folded laundry on the floor. And he does—his face appears at the end of the hall leading to her front door and he pauses, bag slung over his shoulders and eyebrows raised to his hair. 

“Hi, Frank,” Karen greets, carefully closing the book. “How was your trip?”

His eyes glance quickly at her exposed legs, and then up to his t shirt, back down to her legs, and then up to her face. Karen relishes in the warm flush that spreads across his cheeks, even if it is partially covered by his beard. “It was, uh, it was good,” he tells her roughly, unmoving. His eyes stray back to her lower half. “Is that...my shirt?”

Karen realizes that she should be embarrassed by her lack of clothes or admonished for going through his things without asking. But the only thing she really can feel is frustrated as a thought strikes her. That day in the hospital when she and Frank were alone--before Amy had interrupted--after Karen had all but blurted her feelings into the stale, tension-heavy room. His entire body had been covered in lacerations and zig zagged with stitches; his face was bruised and battered. He’d been so evasive with her, gaze hardly connecting with her own before darting away again. She’d been so afraid for him. Hopeless. And frustrated. 

“You could love someone else instead of another war.”

“I don’t want to.”

At the time he’d been so determined, so set in his jaw as the hoarse declaration hung in the air. She wonders if that’s changed now, months of spending the night and phone calls and take out dinners later. If she were to ask the same question now—what he would say? 

“It is,” she tells him evenly.

Frank’s hand tightens on the strap of his bag, a nervous gesture. “Why?” he finally asks.

“I haven’t been pining after you, if that's what you mean. I was out of clothes.” Karen offers him a small smile, trying to quell the bout of butterflies that erupt in her stomach at the rough edge to his voice. 

To her relief he smiles. The tension eases from his shoulders. “You don’t seem like the pinin’ type.”

“I’m not.” Liar, liar, no pants on fire. “You just got back?” 

He nods, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Was thinking about gettin’ dinner.” 

“You find the take out menu, I’ll put pants on,” she wages.

Frank’s blush rises. He coughs and then turns, walking into the kitchen at a pace quicker than usual. Karen fidgets with the hem of the shirt, waiting until she can hear the telling sound of the coffee machine being manhandled. She grapples for a pair of leggings in the basket beside her and hurriedly puts them on. 

“Sorry about the shirt,” she says loudly. “I was completely out of laundry and I figured you wouldn’t be back for a while. I’ll wash it for you.” 

Frank reappears in the doorway, eyes on the floor until he’s sure she’s fully clothed. “Don’t worry about it,” he mumbles. “It’s nothin’.”

“I went into your things, Frank, I hardly think that’s nothing.” 

At that, he meets her gaze. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he counters, shooting her a grin. 

Karen huffs out a laugh. “Whatever. Hang on, I’m going to change out of this and then I'll order the food.” 

“No.” 

Karen swivels her head to give Frank a surprised look. The intensity of his no is startling but he seems as shocked as she is. There’s a beat of silence, and then he clears his throat and looks away as his finger starts that familiar rhythm against his leg. “I mean. You don’t have to. If you’re comfortable.” 

She considers pushing it. She doesn’t. Not yet. 

“I am. Thanks.” 

—

Several hours later, Karen realizes their bottle of wine is empty. She’s sitting against one arm of the couch with Frank against the other. Her legs bridge the gap between them, and if she were to point her toes she could touch the strong muscle of his thigh. Their take out boxes sit empty on the coffee table, and Frank has his head tilted back, eyes on the ceiling. The apartment is quiet.

“So what did you and Curtis do in the mountains?” Karen asks into the silence, hesitant to break it but curiosity finally getting the better of her. 

Frank sips his wine, and then turns his head to look at her. Karen is struck by how handsome he looks, the setting sun’s orange rays highlighting the curve of his nose and the warmth of his eyes. “Stupid shit,” he tells her with a chuckle. “We chopped up some trees, went hikin’--that asshole’s still faster’n me even with that leg--I read a lot. Talked. Drank some.”

Karen waggles her eyebrows. “Does that mean you guys got hammered in a cabin?”

His mouth curves into an amused smile. “Takes a lot to get me hammered, Karen.”

“When’s the last time you were?”

Karen is always careful about asking questions regarding his past. She knows it’s dangerous territory--one small slip could turn their conversation from lighthearted banter to emotional warfare. That’s the last thing she wants for him, for them. 

Thankfully, Frank has a quick answer. “Can’t remember. Years.”

She hums, curiosity piqued. She wonders what an overabundance of alcohol does to someone like Frank Castle--someone who is already so intense, so physical. Someone who already isn’t afraid to cry in front of her, who isn’t afraid to show emotion--would he close himself off, shut down? Would he laugh more? Would he touch her more than the casual touches she already receives? Would he kiss her? A thrill runs through her at the thought. She stays firmly planted on the couch, fighting the urge to grab the whiskey in her cupboard and put her theory to the test. 

“What about you?”

“What?”

Frank fixes her with an amused look. “The last time you were sideways.”

“Oh. A couple weekends ago, Foggy came over.” She smiles, remembering. “Marcie was out of town so he brought over the wine and we did--well, this. Take out and wine. A lot of wine.”

There’s an expression on his face she can’t figure out. A mixture of forced casualness, of caution, of amusement. “So this is--...” He pauses, takes a drink of his wine, starts again. “This is what you do with your other friends?”

Two thoughts settle into the sudden ache in her chest at his words. That on one hand he does, in fact, consider her a friend. She’s not just a warm body to keep the loneliness at bay. Which she’s known that for a long time, of course. They trust each other in the way that only two people who have gone through a number of life-changing and dangerous ordeals together can--why wouldn’t they be friends? The second thought is how carefully he speaks the word friends, as if solidifying the idea. As if reminding her of their relationship status. As if to say, we’re friends, and I know you want more--but I can’t. So we’re friends.

“Yep. This is what I do with my other friends. All two of them.” The joke falls flat, overshadowed by the catch in her voice. Karen finishes off her glass of wine and decides she will get out the whiskey after all. Even if he doesn’t drink it, she needs something a little stronger than just another Rosé. She starts to get up, but his hand catches her ankle and keeps her firmly in place.  

“You’re upset.” He looks at her cautiously from under a furrowed brow. His hand doesn’t lift from her skin, and it sends an unfair thrill through her. Karen’s toes curl before she can stop them, pushing against his thigh. 

“I’m not upset.”

He frowns. “And now you’re lying. Did I say somethin’?”

She doesn’t want to lie to him. She also doesn’t want to tell him the truth. There’s a nagging thought in the back of her mind that says if she’s honest with him, he’ll be scared off. He’ll decide her feelings are too much for him to handle, and then he’ll leave. Again. 

Her heart couldn’t bear it. 

Karen tugs her leg out of his grasp and sets her feet on the carpet. He sits forward, trying to capture her eyes again. “Karen,” he says gently. It’s cautious and worried, and so completely Frank in the way he grinds out her name that the words escape her before she can stop them. 

“It’s nothing, Frank. We’re friends, and that’s all, and I’m being selfish wanting more. I’ve just been--I’m not trying to--...” she glances over helplessly, but he’s giving her a look that she can only describe as stricken. She looks away quickly, desperate for a change of topic. Desperate to pull herself out of the hole that she’s dug for herself. There’s a brief moment of silence where she tries to decide what to do, outside of leaping from her fire escape, and then she hears Frank move. The cushion dips next to her. Warm fingers intertwine with her own, and then his lips are pressed to the back of her hand. 

“Shit, Karen,” Frank murmurs, exasperated. “For a smart woman, you’re bein’ pretty stupid.”

She’s still stuck on her fact that his breath is dancing over her skin, and that he’s pressed against her side, and that he still hasn’t released her. That he hasn’t gotten up and made a hasty exit. His words barely register. “What?” she asks weakly. 

“Curtis and I did a lot of talkin’ this weekend,” he says, staring to look her in the eye. The sudden change of topic throws her off balance. Before she can get a word in, he’s continued on. His thumb strokes her palm. “And a lot of it was dumb shit. We talked about his new apartment, the one he had to get after Billy shot up his old one. He says it gets a lot of sunlight. He talked about how the vet group is going and what team he thinks will win the World Series this year. It was good, and easy. We talk about some hard stuff too. We talked about Maria and the kids, and the war, and you.”

She’s not sure she likes being in the ‘hard’ category, but he seems to be edging towards a point, so Karen remains quiet. 

“And after we talked through all that other stuff, Curtis told me I was bein’ an idiot. He told me that you’re a good woman, and an even better friend. That I needed to make a decision before someone else made it for me.” He pauses, looking away. In the following silence, she digests his words and tries to keep the hope from blossoming in her chest. His hand is still warm in hers, and the earthy, woodsy smell of him fills her nose. 

He doesn’t speak long enough for Karen to finally hedge, “I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Frank.”

He turns back to her and offers a tiny, nervous smile. Not many things make a man like Frank Castle nervous, and the thought eases some of the tension from her body. She grips his fingers and holds her breath. 

“I’m tryin’ to tell you that I’m yours, if you’ll have me. I don’t want to be friends, Karen. I want you. I want more, too.”

In retrospect, her next words could have been a little more eloquent. She could have taken an extra second to think of something romantic and elated. Something that matches his earnestness. What she actually says is, “Frank Castle, you’d better quit keeping me waiting and kiss me.”

His eyes widen briefly, and then he’s grinning at her. His free hand cradles her cheek and between one breath and another he’s doing just that. Karen wont admit to herself how often she thought of this moment, but she does think about how every imagining doesn’t come close. She never could have pictured the tenderness with which he kisses her or the feeling that swells inside her. There’s no daydream in the world that compares to the softness of his lips or the sensation of his beard against her chin. She fists one hand in his coat, letting the other drift up into his hair. It’s longer, curling at his temple, and when she gently tugs he lets out a groan that makes her shiver. His tongue swipes at her bottom lip and she grants him access eagerly. The kiss devolves into wandering hands, heaving breaths, and the distinct feeling that Karen is being carefully, intimately devoured. 

After some time, Karen forces herself to pull away. Frank backs off immediately, a flash of concern in his gaze, but she gives him a small smirk, smoothing her hands over the hard planes of his chest. 

“How do you feel about me taking off the shirt now?” she asks casually. 

Her meaning sinks in quickly. His fingers grasp at the hem, dancing along the bare skin on her hips. Frank gives her a mischievous, sinfully attractive smile. “If you’re comfortable,” he repeats, and then drags his shirt up and over her head.

The buzzer on the dryer goes off in the background, but Karen has never been less inclined to attend to it than she is now. In fact, she thinks, if wearing his shirt gets this reaction, I may never do laundry again. 

It’s a nice thought, but then Frank lips meet her shoulder and she doesn’t think about laundry for a long, long time.

[carnationcreation]

can you do 15 with reggie peters pls❤️

TITLE: 3 Simple Rules (Reggie Peters x reader) [MUSICAL THEATER AU]

✌🏻Masterlist Taglist, Requests, and Works in progress!

Please check bio to see if requests are open before sending any in! 

Request: can you do 15 with reggie peters pls❤️

Prompt/summary:  [Musical Theater AU] Reader has to explain the three simple rules of the theater to Reggie. (And also help him out of trouble)

Word Count: 1,411

Authors note: From my AU prompt list on Tumblr!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There were three rules that came with being in the theater department at Los Feliz High School.

Rule One: No talking in the wings.

From the moment I met my co-star Reggie Peters at auditions, I knew he was going to be a pain to work with.

For example, he did not prepare an audition song. Instead, he broke out a guitar and took a request from Mrs. Harrison and wowed with his impressive vocals instead. His lines were half memorized and his wardrobe was not fit for the dance portion of the audition.

For Christs sake we’re doing NEWSIES!

The rehearsal period was over a month long and every week about thirty students crammed into the auditorium to relentlessly rehearse and prepare for opening night. 

My character, Katherine, didn’t dance much other than in King of New York. The big tap dance number I had to master next week.

A lot of my time was spent waiting in the wings for my next cue. Unfortunately, so was Reggie’s. 

“Wait was that my cue?”

“SHHHHH!” I said, looking anxiously to see if the stage manager on the other side of the stage heard us.

“Oh come on,” he said, “they can’t hear me over the music.”

I rolled my eyes before grabbing his hand and dragging him to the hallway of dressing rooms right behind the stage. 

“Do you seriously not know anything?”

He looked at me confused.

“The rules of being in theater?” I said, when he shrugged I continued, “One, no talking in the wings. Two, no eating or smoking in costume. And three, always show up early or else you’re late.”

“I didn’t think this was that serious.”

I scoffed, “Why did you even sign up for this?”

He shrugged, “Mrs. Harrison cornered me in English and said she needed someone who could actually sing for Jack Kelly.”

I rolled my eyes, “You better keep your mouth clean. I don’t want to have to kiss someone who’s breath stinks every weekend.”

Suddenly, the door we just came out popped open.

“(Y/N)! It’s almost your cue! Reggie, what are you doing out here?” Julie whispered.

“Nothing. Let’s go Reginald.”

“It’s Reggie!”

Rule 2: No eating in costume

The snack table near the dressing room was kept stocked with lots of different things, and it was meant for those out of costume or stagehands since we didn’t get to eat dinner until afterwards on show nights. 

I’d never been a stickler about eating in costume considering I’ve done it myself numerous times. At least I was always careful about it though, putting on a jacket or blanket over me to keep stains from getting on the meticulous costumes our school would make.

“What are you doing?” 

I tried to keep my voice low, but the shock and panic that went through me when I saw orange smears on Reggie’s vest from the pack of Cheetos in his hand made it come out in a squeek.

He looked up at me frantically, “I forgot!”

I huffed in frustration before running into the womens dressing room to grab paper towels.

Reggie tried to take them from me when I came out but I slapped his hand away.

“You’ll try to rub it, you need to pat the stain out.”

The wet paper towel made the brown vest look darker, but at least I got the orange out.

I grabbed his hand and dragged him back into the dressing room, “Stand there.”

He stood where I pointed right beside the electrical outlet and watched me silently as I plugged in the hair dryer and set it to the cool setting. I put it on it’s lowest setting so I could carefully listen so we wouldn’t be late for our cues. Luckily it was Pulitzer’s solo so we should have enough time.

I looked up and noticed his cheeks were red, “What? It isn’t too hot is it?”

“Uh- no I just- we’re in the dressing room alone-”

“And I’m getting the stain out of your shirt so Katie won’t go nuts when she sees your costume almost ruined. No one’s gonna say anything Reggie, especially not to me. This happens more than you think.”

He nodded and looked down at the vest. It was still slightly damp but not enough to be noticeable on stage.

“Thank you,” Reggie said as I pulled the door open.

“Next time put a jacket on before you eat. Three simple rules Peters. Remember them.”

Rule 3: Always show up early or you’re late

It was almost the end of our show run. The past few weeks had been amazing and it was saddening to think that tonight I would have to say goodbye to Katherine. 

As I sat in my dressing room I heard a knock at the door, Julie entered and stood behind me as I pinned my hair up for my wig.

“Have you seen Reggie? It’s almost 10 minutes till places.”

“No I haven’t, has he messaged Luke about being the understudy?”

She shook her head, “Katie said he hadn’t.”

I felt anxiety rise in my chest, hopefully we wouldn’t have to delay the show just to get someone in costume.

I peaked my head outside and just as I did Reggie Peters came sprinting down the hallway.

“Where have you been?”

“I got a flat on the way, how much time do I have?”

“10 minutes till places. If you hurry you might not be late.”

He nodded.

“Rule number 3 Peters!”

He shouted over his shoulder back at me, “I know!”

I rolled my eyes. Having pity for the boy, I decided to try and help.

I went and grabbed his mic from the stage manager and updated her on the situation. With it in hand I went back to his dressing room and knocked.

“Come in!”

Reggie stumbled around the room finding pieces of his costume to pull on. 

“Sit,” I said once he had the pants and shirt on.

I handed him the vest and tucked the mic pack into the back of his belt before letting him run the wire up through the shirt.

“Do your hair, I’ll get the makeup ready.”

He tousled his hair and I couldn’t help but stare. Him clearing his throat brought me back to reality and I began applying the foundation and powder to his face. The entire time I felt his eyes looking at me causing my face to become unexplainably hot.

Finally I pressed a cut up makeup sponge covered in black and gray eye shadow to give him the look of a dirty newsie. 

“All done,” I said. I tried to stand up quickly so I could go and get my face to not feel like it’s on fire.

He grabbed my wrist, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

He sighed, “You’re always helping me with something.”

“Well,” I smiled, “Hopefully you’d do the same for me if the situation was reversed. Besides theater geeks look out for each other.”

“I’m not a geek!”

I laughed, “It’s almost time for places. Let’s go Peters.”

The final curtain call had most of the cast in tears. This was the night we’d have to put all the props away and say goodbye to Newsies.

I neatly put my costume away before turning off my dressing room light for one last time.

I’ll admit. Working with Reggie wasn’t all that bad. At least he was a good kisser and took a mint before the finale each night. 

I pulled my duffle bag over my shoulder and walked towards the entrance of the school.

“(Y/n)!”

I looked behind me to see Reggie jogging to catch up with me.

“The rest of the crew is going to iHop, are you coming?”

“I dont know,” I said, “I’m kinda tired.”

“Come on,” he groaned.

“No Reginald I’m tired and sad the show ended.”

He smirked, “And going with the rest of the cast will make the grief a little less.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Please?” 

I walked off leaving him to trail behind me.

“Please (Y/n)!”

“Why do you want me to go that bad Reginald?”

“It’s Reggie,” he said, I smirked, “And... I don’t know anyone else that well.”

 I stopped and turned to him, he looked slightly embarrassed. 

“Please? I don’t wanna go by myself.”

I sighed, “Fine. But you’re buying me a milkshake.”

He smiled widely and before I could react pressed a kiss to my cheek.

As he pulled back he realized what he had done causing us both to blush.

“Is that against the rules?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[shesawriter39049]

|Touch Me, Tease Me| M|

SMUT/ A LIL ANGST

(Gif not related...he just looks...good. like..fuck.)

Pairing : Namjoon X Reader

About- Namjoon eats you out the minute you walk in the door because well...that’s the kinda husband he is!

Or- Jimin text’s Namjoon to brace him for the mood you’ll more than likely be in after a day full of drama and finally firing the front desk receptionist! Which essentially red for him to make you come hard AF and then feed you....OH, and You guys invite Yoongi over to talk about the Tae and Kookie “Thing” 

WARNINGS: Oral/ Fingering/Light dirty talk/ Cum play/Light spit play/Over stimulation(M/F)/Pet names/Hand jobs/Body worshiping/ Is nipple play a thing?????/ (Also it’s not said but it’s somewhat obvious the OC is prob ovulating, since shes super emotional, and overly sensitive rn) 

Note: This is a stand alone smut drabble within my OT7 poly universe called “7 DEEP”. Short AU SUMMARY: Your husband Namjoon and yourself run a successful Adult Film Entertainment Company called “Onyx” with your 5 best friends from college who you also happen to be in an open relationship with!

WC:5.7K

Song Reference: Case Ft Foxy Brown “Touch Me Tease Me”

Final note: This is apart of a series, and this can be read as a stand alone..since it’s 90% smut lol however some of the references you won’t understand...

~~~~~

......Your tired...it’s been a long ass day.... “Baby?” Namjoon’s voice rings through your apartment the minute the door opens, though you can’t physically see him you still feel that honey-coated baritone run down your spine as it bounces off every wall. You close the door behind you with a heavy sigh, leaning against it letting as if your life depended on it, eyes fluttering shut immediately, more so mentally drained than anything else!

“Yea?” Your response comes out dryer than intended but you know Namjoon knows you well enough to not even be phased by it. You hear his feet patter into the foyer, still not bothering to open your eyes yet, everything just feels so damn heavy that even that alone seems exhausting!

Until eventually you start to feel the steam radiating off his body, followed by the owe so familiar scent of pine and vanilla...His allergies have been killing him lately so he opted to work from home today instead...clearly fresh out the shower.

The weight shifts against the door as he braces his hands on either side of your head, leaning down to nose at your face like a cat. Leaning into his touch as he works his way down your neck, even as gentle as his touch currently is you still feel it everywhere...everything just feels extremely sensitive today! Silently coaxing you to open your eyes, only to be met by those sharp, beautiful brown orbs of his...skin still holding a slight sheen over is tattooed chest..hair damp, face flushed. Nothing discrete in the ways yours eyes greedily unravel his body...not that there's much to unravel anyway. He's only wearing joggers for fucks sake.

Namjoon lets out a low hum, as he places a couple kisses along the hinge of your jaw “I heard someone had a shitty ass day….” He phrases it more of a statement than a question as he nips at your skin, leaning down to press a lingering kiss on the side of your neck as he unties your jacket. Soothing his hands down your arms as he helps you step out of it..letting it fall where it may. Lacing your arms around his neck, releasing a breath that you didn't even know you were holding, but that’s what he does to you. Effortlessly, he puts your mind and body at ease...you feel his breath ghost over your hair, hot, wet, wanting, the grip he holds on your waist seems to be the only thing keeping you remotely grounded right now! Titling your chin upwards silently,asking and he gives it to you, because of course he does, this man can't deny you a damn thing even if he tried.

He gently brings your lips together, coaxing your mouth open in a way that has you moaning out instantly, letting your hands slide down his sides gripping his waist. Once his lips touch yours there's no other way to describe the feeling except relief, utter fuckin relief, slips through every cell in your body as you both sigh into it. Realistically you know, everything will be okay, you know it’s just one bad day, but for some reason right now...it just feels heavy every thing just feels fucking heavy and you really just need this..you need him!

Namjoon lets a hand trickle up your back until it meets the nape of your beck, taking an almost possessive grip to keep you in place as he deepens the kiss. Your suddenly feeling really desperate and to be honest you don’t quite know why, however your clawing at your husband's chest like your touch starved knowing damn well your far from it. Namjoon has always been a very..versatile lover..theirs time and place, he doesn't need to always be in “Daddy dom mode”, and he knows you like the back of his hand. Well aware you need some kind of anchor, some form of control right now after the day you just had so he lets you take it. He lets you lick into his mouth as you please and he swallows every moan that slips past your lips as he rocks his hips into yours making your knees weak and your chest feel like it’s caving in on itself.

However no matter how desperate you feel right now, the kiss doesn't add to your state of arousal….it calms your mind...slowing all the gears down. Your body on the other hand, is a completely, different story it has a mind of its own . not that you blame it, not when you have a half naked Namjoon Kim pressed flush against you, caging you against the door!

You swear your apartment feels at least 10 degrees hotter than it was when you walked in, suddenly Namjoon is impatiently tugging at your dress. Alternating between stretching it and balling it into a fist. “This... fuckin dress” You instantly knew he wanted skin on skin, so you gave it too him. Pulling back just enough so he can tug your dress over your head leaving you in front of him in nothing but your bra, panties and high heels. “What do you need, baby?” He pants into your mouth “Just tell me what it is and I’ll give it to you…” Without responding you tug him closer, caging him between your thighs and the 6 inches on your feet putting the two of you damn near at eye level for once!

You don’t actually respond initially, however the way your entire body deflated into the door just says it all.... And that’s what snaps him out of his lush clouded haze for a moment. I mean yeah he wants to rip you apart..but this isn't about him, it was never about him. So, he steps back, and you damn near whine at the lack of contact, but you silently watch, as he cocks his head to the side taking a moment to look at you. I mean really look...and …he coos lightly, reaching up to thumb at your jaw, swallowing hard, breath a little uneven.

“Your tired” He notes gingerly as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear and you try to smile but it doesn't quite work.

“I am, baby, mentally more than anything else…”  It’s not like there’s been one catastrophic thing that’s taken place...it’s also not like you haven’t been through way worse. Your hormones are just fucking with you hard today, on top of the fact that there’s just a lot going on. Firing Jordan before you even know if the new hire is really gonna show up! This underlying tension between Tae and Kook that you can already tell Yoongi’s gonna get sucked into which will not end well! There’s nothing he hates more than petty drama...then there’s the Spectrum launch in Vegas next month….it’s just...yeah..yeah!

He nods knowing full well the chaos running through your mind, hating that you look like your handling the load for both of you though….

“We don’t have to do anything, I can run you a bath, we can cuddle, I can even chill out here and give you your space...I just…” Gripping your face in the palm of his hands with a deep sigh, eyes clearly uneasy by the blatant strain in yours  “I need your mind to slow down a little ...yeah need!” Answering the unasked question within your gaze “I don't- you know you can always talk to me right?!” Thick brows furrowing in the center of his face “ I don’t care how busy I am...always ..” Squeezing your face to emphasize the point “Did I-did I do something? Are we okay?” The way he staggers over his words, timid and faint as if he thinks he’s the problem is just….

Ohhh Joonie baby! Leaning in to press your forehead flush against his...trying to latch onto some of his energy, because it;s always 10 times calmer than yours....

“Were fuckin solid baby” Tilting your head upwards to kiss him, quick but firm! “There’s just a lot on my mind...including you...constantly…” You offer the strongest smile you can muster “But your far from the issue” Eyes locking with his “And no, I don’t wanna move, I don’t want space, just want you-“

“You got me…” He cuts you off instantly taking your hands in his, feeling how they are scrambling along his skin. Your all over the damn place, almost frantically as if your afraid he’s going to evaporate! So he opts to guide the pads of your fingers along his chest, stomach…

“I just want you to touch me,until I forget about everything and everybody else. Just touch me baby, make me feel good….that’s all I need” The last words hushed off your lips as if the two of you were in a room full!

He looks down at you, with the perfect combination of lust and love... “Yeah, yeah, I’ll always make you feel good baby…” Your almost breathless once his lips find the curve of your neck again, heading towards your shoulder blade. His touch is tender, soft, gentle…. “Always be your escape from the rest of the world whenever you need me to me…” Namjoon gives you a soft dimpled smile,that has your chest clinching painfully tight, and the way his body shielded yours it was almost as if he was hiding you from everyone else. You felt safe, in his arms like this ``Let me take care of you tonight.”

Namjoon doesn't phrase it as a question because he knows how badly you need this. However his delivery is soft enough not to make you feel...forced...

You nod somewhat breathlessly, to be honest you’ve never been good at being completely pliant, and no, everything isin’t always a dom/ sub dynamic but it's still rare you just lay there and “receive” without giving something in return! Your hands are still all over the place though, like you don’t know how to just be taken care of. As if you feel as though you have to be doing something! Which only makes him lean in and kiss you again, harder, deeper, trying to slow you down...trying to slow your mind down...

The slow languid slide of his tongue against yours, leaning in to press his forehead to your temple. While you both try to catch your breath, “Breathe, it’s just you and me….I got you…” .

“I know” You nod pressing your body as tight to Namjoon’s as you can, your minds a hazy fucking mess but you know you want him, all over you and then some. Your tired and you just wanna be touched, sometimes you forget how addicted you truly are for the feeling of Namjoon’s mouth against your own. Especially during moments like this, when it’s soft, determined, heavy, when you can tell he's pouring everything he has into it...putting every ounce of his beaning to that kiss as if that's all he has to give! “I know…” You echo again, more so for your own sanity than anyone else's.

You can’t help but start to rock against him and you instantly feel Namjoon’s cock flesh against your inner thigh. He’s getting harder by the second as his hands claw down your back and your skin feels like it’s scorching hot beneath the pads of his fingers. It’s like he knows what your thinking too, the minute you feel him pulsing against you “Don’t worry about me, this aint about me…” He mumbles between kisses, those skillful lips of his latch onto your jaw “There’s no way in hell I could ever see you standing in front of me and not be hard as fuck, but I’m not worried about me and my needs right now….so tell me what you want baby…”

“Namjoon” You whine, mind and body feeling completely overwhelmed “I can’t even think straight right now I just want…”

Namjoon just smirks as he kisses you again, tongue hot and heavy against your bottom lip as he licks at the seam “Then don’t think, just let me have you, let me do what I want, what you need.. ” Sliding his hands down your back until his palms land on your ass and he squeezes tight, rocking your hips forward with a moan, and this man never fails to knock the air straight out of your lungs! As you hum out a poor excuse for a response  “Can I do that baby? Can I just take care of you and make you feel good?”

“Let me in...” The words hushed against your lips and damn near knocked the wind out of you in the process, because you knew he didn't just mean sexually...he meant in every sense of the word. 

‘Fuck” Whines form your lips as you suck Namjoons between your teeth, the word “Yes” hushes off your tongue so faint he barley hears you! He pulls back slowly, leaning down to run his nose along your jaw, tailing the path with his tongue, then leaving an array of open mouth kisses right beneath. Namjoon can feel you continiously rock your hips down against his thigh and he can’t help but smile against your skin, tensing the muscle to add to the stimulation “Taste me...” You finally implore voice completely wrecked with need!

He moans against your neck “Mm yeah?You wanna feel my tongue all over your pussy baby? You wanna come on my face?” “This man had the sexiest bedroom eyes you’d ever seen, biting down on his bottom lip…hips slowly grinding down into you. “Yeah, your coming all over it face” Rehprahasing it as a statement as opposed to a question and you feel goosebumps breakout along every inch of your skin.

Namjoon leans back down crashing your lips together, he’s kissing you with a purpose now! It was a little messy, more tongue than skill on both ends at this point not that either of you cared. Hands roaming up your body, as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth. Before moving down to sprinkle kisses over your neck, down your jaw, where he starts sucking at your skin. Clearly leaving marks that you and your concealer would have fun covering tomorrow but you could care less! Every time he sucks your skin between those skilled lips of his you let out a muffled sigh, which filtered into a deep needy moan that and your husbands skin felt like it was burning from the inside out!

It’s a mixture of a kiss and a nuzzle as he works his way down your body, eyes flicking up, hazy and heavy watching every reaction. Moaning in unison as your whines fill the apartment the more he marks you, the more he takes his time exploring and cherishing your body as if it’s his sole purpose on this earth. As if his cock isint hard as fuck and throbbing in his pants right now.

Reaching behind you to unclasp your bra, tossing it to the side, letting out a sasatifed hum once he notices how hard your nipples already are. Leaning forward to just blow along your aerola until your hissing and squrimng beneath him. Namjoon grazes your nipples with his lips, and your already arching into his mouth before he even laces his tongue around the bud. Chasing the pleasure which only has Namjoon moaning against you even louder, your loud needy, and making a mess in your panties and you can’t even get yourself to care. Not when your husband's lips and tongue keep repeatedly grazing over your aerola to the point where you actually feel like you could come. The way he’s taking his time to suction each bud between his lips has your thighs are shaking!  

“Fuck, my babies so sensitive today…”

You barely even acknowledge the statement your already so far gone, especially once he takes one nipple between his mouth, toying it with his tongue while flicking the other with his index finger and thumb. It has you shaking, gasping, and shuddering, back arching wordlessly asking for more.. Everything just feels like too much and not enough all at the same damn time!

“Baby” Namjoon whispers almost awestruck upon sliding his hands between your thighs, feeling how wet you are, a deep, moan slips from the back of his throat. “Fuck”

Namjoon’s lips finally started to paint a trail south and god he knows how to rip you apart with his tongue you were already a damn mess! Finally making his way further down, kicking and sucking  a path down your stomach. Eventually dropping down to his knees, the site of those big brown eyes gazing up at you, lids heavy, completely blown out, that alone already had you feeling light headed!

You can feel him smiling against your skin, dimples and all as he kisses at your lower stomach, loving the ways the muscles contract beneath his lips. “Your so fuckin gorgeous …” He coos’s against your skin, as he hooks his fingers around the side of your panties. “Relax” Breaths again your skin and you gasp spreading your legs on command.

Forehead resting against your stomach, while his hands kneaded at your thighs, planting open mouth kisses right above your center. Goosebumps appearing in the wake of his lips, you could feel him smirking against your skin from how antsy you are! Already well aware of how bad your body was screaming for him at this point. Sucking down on the area, leaving a bouquet of bruises behind for you to look down at and relive all over again .

“Namjoon please…”You plead, rocking your hips forward, until he tugs at the seam of your panties, effortlessly ripping the thin lace apart. The slight pain from the coarse fabric dragging against your skin, accompanied by your husband's blatant desier to give you what you want has you moaning even harder.

“Holy shit” The moment he slid your panties hit the ground and your arousal hit his nose, the scent rippes a pained moan from his throat. If you didn't know any better you'd swear his mouth was watering once he tricked his fingers between your lips that were literally running down his hand. Pulling back much to your dismay only to lock his gaze with yours as he slowly sucks them between his lips one by one! The sight of him ,devouring your juices off of his fingers felt like enough to make you cum right there. Moaning against his hand as if you were the best thing he tasted all damn day. “God, taste so good baby”

You can feel his breath right against your pussy and it’s already making a muffled whine slip past your lips before he really even dose anything. Sliding his index finger in slowly ,going knuckle deep all in one notion, curling it upward until the thick diamond encrusted band on his finger was flicking against your clit! There's already intense pressure building in the pit of your stomach as you try to steady yourself against the door. The slick sound of him teasing up your center had your ears burning. “Babyyyy “ his face almost reflecting pain as he watched how wet you were for him and only him . The way your juices were just dripping down your inner thighs, looking, back at you as if he just wanted to slide in right then and there. But as he said, this wasn;t about him….this was all about his baby, and she asked for him to taste her...so that’s all he cared about!

“Jooon ...please” Eyes heavy as you glanced down at him whining …shifting your hips against his hands .

“You don’t gotta beg…” Leaning down to blow against your clit “At least not today” God, he looked like the perfect combination of an angel and the damn devil as he smirked up at you.  

“Fuck, well just put your tongue on my clit and make me cum plea-a-oh fuck” Finally letting his tongue go where you’ve been aching for him, sliding up and down your slit slowly, and your body felt like it was on fire! The noise you let out once you feel Namjoons tongue hot and wet against you should be utterly embarrassing. But you could give less than a damn, he;s licking around the head of your clit in a way that has your toes curling against the sole of your shoes. Your body was hypersensitive today, every time his tongue touched you it felt like it was enough for you to come! Like he’s been edging you for hours and he just. Fucking. Started!

Namjoon pushing his tongue past your entrance, joining his fingers and your eyes fall shit , grip tightening on the doorknob, as bolts of pleasure rip through your veins. Your already sweating. The feeling of his tongue burning deep inside you rocking in tune with his fingers, the wet obscene sounds that fill your apart, you fuckin live for it! Everything just felt hot,your clit was already rock hard and your thighs were wavering like a leaf in the wind! The 6 inches on the bottom of your shoes are no longer working in your favor, not trusting your legs to support yourself, and clearly neither did he so he shifted our body seamlessly, wrapping your legs around his shoulders. Propping you up, so he could bury his face right where you wanted him and he was deep. He had you at the perfect angle to actually engulf his tongue within your entrance, just teasing your walls enough to have them trying to clench around the muscle!

You drop your head against the door, if you weren’t so far gone it would probably hurt, “Oh, my god, baby push your fingers in deeper” You choke on a moan and it feels like your entire body is trying to coil in on itself as your husband dose exactly as you ask. Wrapping his lips back around your clit, sucking in, moaning against your skin sending what felt like vibrations through your entire body. Pushing his fingers in as deep as possible, curling them alongside his tongue just enough to hit the soft right spot that he can find with his eyes closed at this point. The sensation rips through every cell in your body and your suddenly teetering over the edge almost embarrassingly fast.

“Your not gonna last ” He kept his face close as he spoke every word sent your body shaking harder than the next. It wasn’t even meant to be arrogant,or condensing this time, to be honest he was more so speaking to himself than anyone..almost in awe!

“No— fuck, I’m not but please don’t stop, keep going I need it- need you-fuck” The words fell from your lips in a combination of a plea and a whine as you nuzzled your fingers in those dark chocolate locks of his!.He already knew what you needed..to be pushed past you limits...overwork your muscles until they just kinda..shut down...until your mind shut down!

“I’m right here,I got you” Namjoon promised, letting your gaze meet and you struggled to focus, especially with him looking at you like that. Your lips parted, gasping slightly

“That’s it baby. Enjoy it. God, making such a fuckin mess too…” You can feel yourself almost pushing your heat right into his face at this point your so damn needy! Namjoon moans, blunt nails digging into your ass to keep you in place.

“My baby’s feelin good huh?” Namjoon’s voice is somewhat strained, setting deeper and husker than usual and goddamn

A strangled groan laves your throat that I guess can be considered a coked out moan, there wasn't much talking from that point on. You told Namjoon you wanted to be too overwhelmed to think and that’s exactly what you were! Your apartment filled with nothing but heavy moans, accompanied by the sound of his name leaving your throat at numerous octaves...  

 He keeps one arm wrapped around your waist to make sure you don’t fall, and though you asked for three, I don't think you were really ready, especially once he tries to spread them out slightly. And you actually scream, literally this is why you'll probably not be offered a lease renewal in a couple months. Your loud….

“Yeah, yeah...there you go....” Namjoon can tell that your right there, so he moves back to suck your clit back into his mouth your thighs instinctively go right around his neck. Almost as if your trying to suffocate him, and obviously you aren’t it;s just a lot...the pressures a lot..your body dosen’t quite know what to do.

Namjoon growls low, and theirs no other way to describe the sound except primal, possessive, and it’s so fucking sexy. “Stop...” Eyes glaring up in your direction, tone calm yet..stern...he may not be in daddy mode but ugh...he always is daddy . You whine but do as he says, far to gone to even be a smart ass right now, and you feel him hum around you! The vibrations hush against your skin. Scissoring his fingers in and out at a relentless pace, he told you he wasn't in the mood to make you beg and he meant it. The sound of his palm smacking against your lips, only grew louder the wetter you got, your own arousal making his hand almost stick to your skin. There was a slight sting, from the bulk of his rings, including his wedding band smacking against your skin yet that only had you moaning even louder. The rough contrast between his smooth stealthy fingers and the thick metal fucking you open!

It was like he could feel that your body was getting use to the rhythm, you were stilll shaking, however you wouldn’t jerk and twitch as hard anymore...so clearly he decided....fuck that! Sliding out and using his index and middle finger to spread your lips apart, just enough to let him attack the tip of your clit as he needed. Sucking hard, as if he was trying to swallow you whole! Pursing his lips to spit right on the bud, not that you needed it just because he loved you messy! Flicking and rolling his tongue against the most sensitive area of your body , and you felt your walls start to contract, around, fuck imagination at this point because his fingers weren’t in you but it didn't matter! 

“Baby….fuck-  “ Head lolling back to  hit the door even harder this time. Fuck you’re gonna have a migraine, your moans are growing louder, gaze heavy, lightheaded as your eyes slowly met the back of your head.

Once he had you in his mouth on you like this,in a way that had you shaking, whining, desperate...  he slid his fingers back inside you, curling them in and out. Thumb, teasing at your rim, circling the entrance just enough to have you arching into it, silently begging for more though you really couldn’t handle it right now. Probing that rigid patch tucked between your pulsing heat, your walls damn near suffocating his fingers. Every time he tried to pull out, you sucked him right back in, alternating between rolling his tongue against your clit, and sucking down on it. Those lips of his where relentless, treating your clit as if it was a straw and was the thing thats what sent your body over the edge!.You felt your body start to shake, and twitch in his grasp and yet he still didn't release your clit from his mouth even as you came, hard. You knew you had to be running down his faced at this point, and he fucking loved it.

You suddenly felt his eyes on you, and you forced yourself to lookd down at him, as he silently asked for permission to keep going....not even remotely trusting your voice! So, you just tightened the grip you held on his hair, pushing his head back down and Namjoon moaned so loud you almost thought he came.

“Nam-Joonnnnn” Choked from your lungs, eyes squeezing back shut...as his tongue started caressing your lips. Slowly rolling his neck head first into your pussy as if he was giving you a deep passionate kiss..fuck I mean, I  guess he was.Is it possible to make love to someones clit with your tongue?! Because if soo...that’s exactly what it felt like Namjoon was doing!

He gradually slowed down his pace, not pulling away completely just yet, laying his tongue flat against your lips.Taking slow, long drags, until his tongue worked his way upwards curling against your pelvic bone. Namjoon licked you from head to toe not that it cleared up anything though, it actually only made more of a mess! As you twitched and jerked at ever flick of the tongue!Finally letting his lips move over to your inner thighs, leaving light butterfly kisses while he waited for your body to stop shaking. Your eyes felt like they were glued shut, and you were hot to the touch. You let him shift you around, not even attempting to help slowly adjusting your body so you could stand, but he knew you really couldn’t. So he kept a arm tight around your waist so you didn’t collapse, since your thighs felt like a damn slinky. Using the back of his palm to wipe the reminder of your essence off his face. Letting his tongue run along his teeth, he smiled down at you, pleased with himself as you couldn’t even keep your eyes open.

Running his thumb against your cheek until finally looked at him... nosing up your face...yet now his eyes read something softer. Less cocky more loving and concerned...He didn't even speak his eyes silently asking....“You good?” His touch was so soft you felt chills coursing down your spine again...only this time for a completely different reason....

You just nodded, a lazy smile tugging on your lips, as you started feeling like you could actually breath again. Taking a firm grip on the hair at the nape of his neck, bringing his lips to meet yours, kissing you deep, love and adoration pouring off your tongue, as you moaned into his mouth. Tasting yourself on every inch of on his mouth. Namjoon reached down, cupping your ass, with both hands wrapping your legs around his waist.

Walking you wordlessly down the long hallway to your master suite, kicking the door shut behind him, the room was dark, the only light came peeping through the curtains. Tossing you back onto the bed, an airy laugh leaving your chest as you bounced along the mattress. Resting on your elbows in a slight arch as your eyes drunk him as he crawled onto the bed, yanking you by your ankles to pull you down to him. Finally sliding your feet out of your Louboutins after fuck, 10 plus hours! Kissing both of your ankles in the process, lightly massaging the balls of your feet before laying them flat on the bed.  

“Baby” Fanned past your lips with a smirk as he slid his palm between your thighs, moaning at the way the damn near stuck together. Even now, after you’ve came he hasn’t stopped doing what you've asked...you wanted to be touched welll....

Knees spread on either side of your body, supporting his weight so he’s not sitting directly on top of you. Namjoon’s touching you everywhere, though now your body’s hot and sticky but you don't mind. The pads of his fingers only had fuel to the flame, every inch he touches feels like its scorching against your Egyptian cotton.  There's no alternative laced within this either expect taking care of you like he originally offered. His touch is a little stronger though, almost massaging your aching muscles in the process. Leaning down to trail open mouth kisses everywhere he can reach, sucking at your heat induced skin, leaving marks all over the damn place. The other boys will bitch but he could give less than a fuck right now. Not when your moaning and looking up at him so soft, pliant, needy...he’d give you any fucking thing you asked for right now!

You completely shudder beneath him, eyes falling shut, blissed and overwhlemed, and high off of everything that is Namjoon! 

“Namjoon….”

Namjoon moans at that, at how needy you sound, leaning down to nose up your jaw “Say it again baby…’ Tracing a mindless path along your skin...and you give him what he wants, nuzzling into the crook of his neck...nipping and sucking his honey coated skin between your teeth. His cock grazes your thigh and no, you gotta do something about this, your mans in pain, he has to be!

Sliding your hand inside his sweats and the minute he goes to dispute you nip at his skin, “Let me..please let me…” The words porpously purr off your tongue in nothing but a moan and as I said..this man can't deny you a damn thing!

He nods against your hair, and you bump him with your nose until he brings his lips over to yours.You kiss him hard sucking his lower lip into your mouth, as you start to stroke him, you can feel him throbbing in your palm, precum leaking all over the damn place Namjoon’s dick actually feels warm in your hand he’s so worked up. Well aware it won’t take much at all he’s essentially been edging himself since you walked in the door!

Your husband breaths heavy and ragged into the kiss he’s already so close…”You took such good care of me Joon, always…” He moans, slightly whiny as he starts to rock his lips into your hand as you stroke him harder. Grip tighter “I love you baby” Thumbing over his slit and he comes, spilling all over your hand and into his sweats a string of moans falls from his lips as, eyes squeezing shut, arms shaking barley able to hold himself up. You don't’ stop though, not until he’s practically swatting your hands away because he can’t take anymore. Sliding your palm free, letting him take in the site, as he tries to steady his breathing, a glint of amusement in yours eyes as you bring it up to your mouth. Namjoon Moans against the side of your face as you lap your tongue over your palm, sucking each finger into your mouth into there redeemed ..clean...

 “Fuckkkk” Husks off his tongue..and no matter how exhausted you are you let me fall into you..wrapping your arms and legs around his waist as he nuzzles against the crook of your neck.

The two of you just lay there in comfortable silence for lord knows how long until...

“I  know today was hard, and I know it will probably get harder...but, we got this…” Hushes against the side of your face “We came so fuckin far, and were going figure this out...it’s just,,this is all a adjustment for everybody...but we got this…”

You don’t really wanna talk about work any further right now...you just wanna be in this moment with him...so instead you just....

“I love you.”

“And you know I love you”

He reaches up and grabs your jaw, grip firm, something heavy on his chest regardless...laying his forehead against yours.

 “Whenever your feelin like this, just remember that it’s okay...and it aint just you....stop trying to bare all this shit by yourself. I’m fucking here, it;s my job to take some of this off your plate!” Nuzzling against your cheek “Weather that be mentally...emotionally...” Namjoon pauses, letting his eyes trail over all the marks along your body as he bites his lip, dragging it between his teeth “Sexually” Dropping his voice a little nipping at your jaw with a small smirk. Grinding his hips against you until your moaning again while clawing your nails down his back. Leaning in to press his lips against yours, only pulling back enough to speak, tone barley above a whisper....

“I’m here, to help you feel better,to take some of this off your mind, to be whatever the fuck you need, whenever, and however you need it...you just gotta let me. Let me take care of you more baby...let me...fuck” Shaking his head, chuckling almost nervously “Let us, take care of you sometimes...” 

You don’t respond any further, only gripping  him even tighter, theirs so much to unpack there that you really don’t have the mental capacity for right now. The concept of you taking care of everyone else but often neglecting yourself has been a thing since college...it’s nothing new...just sometimes your better at letting the boys in than others...

However, the main issue above it all, the reason your even in this “position” to begin with...  work.The stress and pressure the two of you feel as CEO’s of your own company at times is unmatched! People talk about the struggle to gain success but often neglect what happens once you get there. Especially as a business owner the pressure you two feel to keep growing, knowing you have people that rely on you to live, rely on you to put food on the table...rely on you to guide their futures in a sense. Like Jungkook, the kids 20, this is the first job hes putting on his resume and he’s trusting you guys to give him the proper tools to grow in his field.

He’s just soo....fuck so bright eyed and trusting...and I guess something in you wants to protect him from how shitty the world is...protect him in a way nobody protected the 7 of you….

Fuck, barley a month ago you were having a panic attack about hirng someone new for that kinda position and , now you wanna put this kid in a safety plastic bubble and protect him from any and everything...your baby boy included….

A fucking mess is what you feel like right now, a absolute fucking mess. 

Your not quite sure how much time passes, as you lay there with Namjoon wrapped in your arms, playing with the baby hairs at the nape of his neck...but it feels good...it feels right...welll almost..it would be perfect if you had five other bodies laying along the bed as well...

“I’m going to run you a bath and order dinner…” Placing a couple kisses along your jaw as he starts to untangle himself tentatively but you don;t make a fuss, your both sticky as all hell anyway….. You just nod slowly, eyes sitting even heavier than when you first got home, gently letting your nails tease up his chest.

“Want me to join you?” You’re not even sure why he asks, he knows the answer but you indulge him…

“Of course...who else is going to wash my back for me?” You muse playfully and he just rolls his eyes, and exasperated groan leaning his chest as he rolls off the bed to head towards the adjacent master bath. Stopping halfway…

“Oh, so Yoongi called me today….” You only let out a low, slightly uninterested hum you know where this is going…”What…” He already sounds exhausted before he even starts, running a shaky hand through his hair “What are we gonna do about Tae?”

You hate when he looks at you like this, like he’s hoping you have the answers..because fuck you really don’t! 

“He wouldn't really talk to me that morning, so I don’t even know what’s really going on. And of course I don’t wanna solely blame him, it’s just…” Waving his hand in the air absently alluding to what he didn't wanna say.

“He already had a slight attitude about it before, but tried to act like he didn't and now we're here..with him being petty at work,..yeah..yeah...I don’t know baby...I don’t know..”

Namjoon’s phone dings..somewhat grateful for the interruption... theirs a stated smile on his face which prompts you to hum in curiosity.

”It’s ugh...Yoongi, actually.....just checkin to see if your okay...” Of fuckin course it is..

You can’t help but giggle, feeling loved and exhausted but more importantly loved... nothing but fondness in your eyes at just the mention of his name...

“Tell him yes, and you should also tell him to come over” Namjoon’s eyes shoot up to meet yours, somewhat wide and disoriented and you just shrug, honestly out of options at this point. You’d rather address it now before it becomes a hot ass mess! 

“Yeah, why not? Tell him to bring wine and sushi...maybe we can all just.. chill...smoke..cuddle...and come to some type of solution where our baby boy is concerned...because we can’t operate with this type of tension...that’s not how we operate”

~~~

Heyyy, soooo that’s all she wrote..for now! If you enjoyed show this some love, come let em know and I will keep this AU rolling!

1ST- QUESTION? 

-

Sooo , would you guys want me to do a one-shot for when Yoongi comes over and the 3 of them discuss Tae? As I mentioned in Tae's first chapter "Pretty Please" There's always been a different more submissive/needy dynamic between Tae and the OC/Yoongi...so I could let them talk about there history a little...and then..maybe Yoongi could fuck her while shes saying between Joon's legs on the couch..IDK..idk where that came from...but I also aint mad at it!

FINAL NOTE-

Just to clarify....if you follow this series..obviously the Tae X Kookie issue was first brought up in Tae’s chapter “Pretty Please”. However the “drama” is what’s been happening since Kook got hired...in the next full length one shot “Got me Loosin all my cool” That’s Jungkook’s “intro” and it starts a month after he’s been working at Onyx....so some of these “issues” will be addressed then.

...As well as THIS “day” technically takes place within that one shot as well...I just did not tap into what happenes when she got home. However the OC will fire the referenced receptionist (The same one from “Pretty Please)  in the up and coming one shot and Joon takes care of her once she gets home!

7 DEEP MASTERLIST

(WHICH INCLUDES 2 REFERENCED FICS ABOVE )

[procrastinatorimagines]

Okay

Fandom: One Chicago

Series: Okay

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 (Final)

Characters: Will Halstead x Halstead!Reader x Jay Halstead, eventual Casey x Reader

Warning/s: kidnapping, assault, drugging, fire, guns

Word Count: 2,542

Request:  If you’re still taking requests can you do a jay x will x sister reader were she ends up getting kidnapped then they save her but she’s badly hurt and they freak out and worry about her when she doesn’t seem like herself please?

Summary: Reader has a comfortable life in Chicago and works a safe job at a library in town, but her life is thrown upside down when she gets kidnapped on her way home from work by people who want revenge against her brother Jay Halstead.

You didn’t really seem to fit the Halstead mould, the your oldest brother, Will, was a doctor, your other older brother, Jay, was a detective, and you, well you were a librarian. Will and Jay hadn’t always been around, Will had gone to New York for his medical degree and Jay had left to fight a war, you didn’t hold any ill will towards them for that, but someone had had to stay in Chicago to take care of your parents, especially when your mom got sick. So that fell to you, the youngest child, which was honestly fine by you, you hadn’t had any big plans for your life anyway, and you enjoyed what you did now... or at least, what you did now was safe and kept a roof over your head.

Your brothers didn’t mind that your job wasn’t heroic, they actually prefered you far away from the front lines, and you couldn’t blame them, there’d been a lot of tragedy for the Halsteads, and you didn’t plan on being the next casualty.

Well, you may not have planned to be, but whoever grabbed you and pulled you into a moving van when you were heading home from your usual week day shift clearly hadn’t gotten that memo. 

One minute everything was normal, the next everything changed.

-

Your attacker wore a mask, and he wasn’t alone, there was at least one other person in the back with you and someone was obviously driving. You tried to kick and scream but they overpowered you, securing your hands and feet. The last thing you remembered before everything went dark was an odd smelling cloth being forced over your mouth.

By the time you woke up your head was pounding and your mouth was dry, your ankles and wrists chafing against the ropes that tied you to a beam in the room you were in, where ever that was. You weren’t sure how long you’d been out, but as your eyes slowly focused in on your surroundings you noticed a small window on the opposite side of the room you were in, the night sky partially visible through a crack in the newspaper that had been used to cover it up.

This was bad, very bad, you thought, panicking as you tried to desperately to free yourself from your restraints, which actually seemed to do more harm than good. Taking a very shaky breath you tried to focus, breathing in and out of your nose slowly as you though of what Jay might do in this situation. Jay... he’d come for you, with the full force of the Intelligence Unit behind him; it was a comforting thought, and one which enabled you to steady your heart rate enough so that you could hear your own thoughts without it pounding in your ears.

You could see stairs on the otherside of the room leading up, you were definitely in a basement, but there wasn’t much down here besides a broken games table, and a washing machine and dryer that looked like they hadn’t been touched in years - somewhere abandoned maybe? a foreclosed house? God a drug den even? This place clearly didn’t have a white picket fence outside, and the thought of who might be staying here, who might be staying here, who might have taken you, had your mind racing...

The sound of a door opening snapped you out of your thoughts, jumping as someone came stomping down the stairs, phone in hand and paying you no attention. He was a heavy set man, white and maybe middle aged, and you didn’t recognise him from anywhere. His face was uncovered, which was bad, you knew enough to know that if your captures didn’t go to lengths to hide their identity, then you probably weren’t making it out alive to ID them. What you needed was time, you thought as he slid his phone back into his dirty jean pockets.

“Good,” he said, approaching you as you tried to shuffle away, your wrists and ankles burning from the strain, “you’re awake.” He pulled the gag down from your mouth so that it hung around your neck and stepped back again as another man came down the stairs. He looked considerably younger than the first man, but still in his late 20s at least, leaner and with much more hair, but the family resemblance was clear, father and son you guessed. Which meant the third guy was probably a brother, or uncle. 

“You gonna call him now that she’s awake?” The younger one asked, and you had a sinking feeling you knew who they were going to call, your cop brother.

“Yeah,” he dug a phone out of his pocket, but it wasn’t his own, it was yours. “Get her to unlock it.” He passed the phone to his son who approached you, grabbing your hair to make you look at him. 

“What’s the password?” He demanded, giving your hair a rough tug as you struggled in his grasp.

“Go to hell,” you tried, your voice audibly shaking with fear. He let go of your hair and back handed you across the face, your cheek stinging with the contact as he grabbed you again. 

“Try again,” the father said and you nodded, telling him the number combination to unlock the phone, if you were braver you might have held out, but you weren’t trained for this, you were a librarian for God’s sake.

The phone started ringing and your brother’s voice came through on the other end, “hey Y/N, I’ve been worried, you were supposed to come to Molly’s but you didn’t show, everything okay?” You opened your mouth to say something but the son shut you up, the father taking the phone from him as another man came down the stairs, gun in hand, and definitely another son.

“I’m sorry detective, but your sister can’t come to the phone right now, she’s a little tied up,” he said.

“Who the hell is this!?” Jay demanded, “where the hell is my sister!?” 

“Someone who you owe Halstead, you took my son from me, destroyed my family, and now I’m going to do the same to yours,” he said venomously and you swallowed a large lump in your throat, the pit in your stomach growing painfully large.

“If you harm a hair on her head-” Jay began but the man cut him off.

“Do you remember my son detective? You put a bullet in him! You took my Joseph from me, now I’m going to show you what that pain feels like!” He yelled, face going red with rage. The son on the stairs had come down and his father snatched the gun from his hand. “This is only a taste of the pain you put my family through detective.” He pointed the gun and fired, pain shooting through your shoulder and your entire body as you cried out.

“Y/N!” You heard Jay yell frantically, but it was drowned out by your own screams. 

“You’ll never see her again detective, just like I’ll never see my boy and my sons will never see their brother. Just remember Halstead, this is on you.” He grabbed your shoulder and squeezed the wound, making you cry out again. “Goodbye.”

“No, no!-” Jay was cut off as the man hung up, dropping the phone and smashing it beneath his heel. The gag was put back on your mouth, but it wasn’t necessary, your vision was blurring and you passed out from the pain.

-

You were beaten, bruised, bleeding, so groggy that it had taken you a few seconds to realise what had finally pulled you from your unconscious: the room was on fire. That’s right, you thought, your mind still foggy from the beating, and the smoke probably, they’d doused the room in gasoline when they’d left. 

You struggled to move, realising they hadn’t even bothered with your restraints when they left you for dead; it was too hot, you couldn’t breath, could barely think as the flames got closer to you. You tried to crawl to the stairs but you saw that they had collapsed, the wood hadn’t stood a chance once the gasoline was ignited. 

You stayed as close to the floor as you could to breath clean air, not that you could stand up if you tried. Darknessed threatened to overcome your vision as you tried to stay awake, soundlessly screaming for help. There was movement at the top of the stairs, muffled noises, and the last thing you remember before unconsciousness claimed you again was strong hands pulling you out of the flames.

-

They told you that they’d managed to work out who the perp Jay shot was, that they’d found a car that had been reported stollen by someone matching the description of one of the sons outside a gas station leaving town and caught them before they could make their getaway. But by the time they found out where you were, everything was up in flames. 51 had arrived at the scene at the same time as Intelligence, and Ruzek and Atwater had had to hold Jay back as Casey and Stella had come in to get you out. You had minor burns and smoke inhilation, they told you, three broken ribs, a broken ankle, severe bruising and laserations, a deep gash on the back of your head,  and of course, you’d been shot. 

Will had filled you in the best he could after you’d finally woken up. The bullet hadn’t gone all the way through and you’d needed emergency surgery to save your life. You’d been in and out for a few days after that, when you were awake you were so hopped up on pain medication that you couldn’t tell if you were just dreaming.

But you were fully awake now, and very much aware of the ache in every body in your body, as your brother spoke. You didn’t say much back to him, or Jay, or anyone who came and went, you just felt numb.

You’d grown up knowing all the dangers in the city, in the world, but you’d always been pretty sheltered by your brothers, and to go through what you did... you felt vulnerable, bare, like your world view had been stripped off and you were left seeing the true horrors around you.

“Y/N,” Will said, touching your arm to get your attention. You jumped and he pulled back, face stricken with emotion as he looked at his little sister, God you must have looked as bad as you felt, you thought, turning to face him to show you were at least listening. “We’re going to keep you here a couple more days for observation and then discharge you in the morning okay?” You nodded, “you can go home then, or stay with me or Jay if that’s what you want,” another nod, your eye lids getting heavy again all of a sudden. Will noticed and stood to leave, kissing you on the top of the head. “I love you Y/N, I’m so sorry- it’s going to be okay, I promise, just rest for now.” You knew he meant it, you knew he believed it, but you weren’t sure you believed it too.

-

It’d been a few weeks since the incident, your arm was still in a sling but most of the damage was fading, the external damage anyway. You’d stayed with Jay for most of the first week out before you forced yourself to go home to your apartment, but you still slept with all the lights on. You didn’t know when you were going to stop feeling this powerless, but you’d recently been starting to think that the way to get some control of your own life again was to take charge of something that you could do. You didn’t want to go back to the library, you’d spent the past week shelving books the best you could with one hand, but it felt wrong, you wanted to do something more, something to help people, like you’d been helped when you needed it.

You were meeting your brothers at Molly’s, and you’d finally made up your mind on the way over, you knew what you were going to do to take charge of your life again.

“Hey, there she is!” Jay waved to you from where he sat at the bar and patted a seat next to him, “Will’s just chatting to Maggie he’ll be over in a minute, want a drink?” He was trying to sound normal but you could tell it was strained, he’d been beating himself up for weeks about what had happened to you, blaming himself even though there was nothing he could have done differently, nothing he’d done wrong.

“I’ll just have a water, thanks,” Stella nodded to you from across the bar and went to fetch one as you took your seat.

“You good?” Jay asked, giving you a careful once over.

“I’m good Jay,” you said softly, squeezing his hand as your drink arrived. He opened his mouth to say something else but you shook your head and said more confidently, “I am.”

You could tell he wanted to say more but at that moment Will came over and took a seat on the other side of you. “Hey, glad you made it, I was beginning to think you would show.” He patted your arm, the same concern in his eyes that Jay had. 

“Why would I not? I am the one who asked to talk to you guys you know.” You smiled.

“Uh-huh we know, is everything alright?” Will asked.

“Yeah you said you had something to tell us,” Jay sat up straighter, and both men got very serious. 

“Relax, I’m fine, it’s nothing bad,” you reassured them before continuing, “I know I haven’t really been seeming like myself lately, and I know you guys are worried, but I just needed you to know that you shouldn’t be. I’ve needed some space to think things over, make sense of what happened-” Jay cast his eyes down guiltily and you grabbed his hand again “-and I’ve come to a conclusion, I’ve made a decision about my life that I think will really help me move past this.”

“Oh?” Will said questioningly, “you’re not like, leaving Chicago are you?”

“No, nothing like that,” you said, “I’m quitting the library, not right away, but it’s time I do something else with my life, something more impactful, like you guys.” Jay and Will shared a worried look.

“Are you sure? After what happened, don’t you want to be somewhere safe?” Jay asked.

“I was somewhere safe when what happened happened Jay,” you told him, “and I can’t go back and pretend nothing happened, I want to move forward, make a difference,” your voice was confident and steady, “I’m not a kid anymore, this is my decision, I’ve given it a lot of thought and I know it’s the right one.”

“Okay,” Will conceded but Jay still shook his head.

“What did you have in mind?” He asked, “what, cop?”

“Doctor?” Will followed on.

“No,” you shook your head and smiled, “I’m gonna become a firefighter.”

[yoongsgguktae]

honey, i’m home 02 | pjm

summary; you finally get to meet his cats, and get to witness how cute your neighbor truly is pairing; jimin x reader genre; neighbors!au | s2l | fluff rating; pg15 word count; 2.1k warnings; sleepy cats, napping kitties, loving felines, and jimin’s arms

a/n; i can’t believe i wrote 2k words about being introduced to cats uwu thank you @dollwithluv​ for reading this over and helping me with some ideas. and shout-out to @starlightseoks​ for letting me honor Kitty Cat in this.

MASTERLIST PART 01 | [PART 02] | PART 03

—

You've been standing in front of his door for a bit longer than deemed normal. Thankfully not a single person has passed you by in the corridor while your fist hovers slightly above the door for what feels like ten minutes now. Naturally your arm gets tired, you sigh in defeat and lower your hand, your eyes fluttering close as you take a breath to slow your nerves. 

You're nervous and you hate it. Hate that you're feeling these foreign emotions, one's you haven't felt since your last relationship a few years back. You stopped caring about what people thought of you, you gained confidence after that monstrosity of a relationship and stopped doubting yourself. But with him, your hard facade is proving to break just at the thought of him, you suddenly care about what this semi-stranger thinks of you. You changed your outfit at least three times before coming to his door, having to remind yourself it's a simple gathering of two neighbors enjoying food together. Again, but this time planned.

Ever since you two shared pizza at your place, your stomach fills with butterflies when you see him around the building or simply when you think of him, which is all the time, to be honest. His soft smile is engraved in your mind and his boasting laugh plays on repeat. He was charming that night, made you laugh harder than you've had in a long while. You suddenly started craving it more, after having a taste of happiness. 

This morning you crossed paths with him in the laundry room, he was taking his clothes out from the dryer just as you arrived to put yours to wash. It took everything in your power to not stare at his arms as he folded his laundry. He wore a tank that put his muscles out on display, he knows very well the effect he has and he's not afraid to show it, you saw it in the way he smirked at you. Only when he wasn't looking did you allow yourself to sneak a glance. 

He invited you over for lunch, said he wanted to introduce you to his cats. You laugh lightly at the memory of his cheeks turning softly red when he referred to them as 'my girls'. Your heart grew two folds as his love for them sparkled in his eyes. 

Suddenly you hear his door unlock and it starts to creak open. Jimin appears in his doorway with that signature smile you’ve learned to grow fond of. "Hey, I thought I heard someone at my door." 

Oh god, did he hear you standing here this entire time? "Hi." You're still rooted in place, trying not to internally combust as you realize he hasn't changed his clothes since you last saw him. Your mind short circuits just thinking about how you're going to survive this lunch date with his arms on full display. Wait, this is not a date, you need to stop overthinking this. 

"Please come in." He steps aside, motioning for you to enter. You pass the threshold into his space, slowly taking in his apartment with wandering eyes, it all feels cozy compared to your own boring place. You hear the door softly click shut behind you, a warm hand barley there placed at your lower back as Jimin guides you to his living room. “I’ve just placed the dish in the oven, should be only a few minutes. In the meantime, let me show you to—” 

“—your girls,” you say for him.

You feel him stop his movements, no longer walking in pace with you. You turn around to see a small pout form on his lips. “You’re not gonna let that one go, are you?” His head tilts to the side as he tsks. 

Jimin resumes making his way to the couch, walking past you. "This here," he says pointing to the cat sleeping on a blanket. "Is Luna." He reaches for her, pets her head softly with the tip of his fingers, just barely as to not wake her. He turns his gaze back to you, you're still standing there, not having moved an inch. "Well, come say hello." He gestures his head to the cat. 

You were still caught off guard by his adorable pout, and that head tilt thing, what was that even? Adorable, that's what. Your body finally responds, moving to get a better look at the fluffy cat napping on the couch. You drop down to level yourself with the furball, your knees cushioned by his soft area rug. "She's so precious!" You coo softly as you pet her head the same way you just watched Jimin do. The cat begins to purr in appreciation. 

You glance up at him, still running your hands at the top of her head lightly. "How old is she?"

"She's five, I rescued her when she was about two along with one of her kittens." He looks around his space, eyes searching. "She should be around here somewhere." His eyes focus to the corner of the room, where a cat tower sits. "Ah, there she is." 

You follow his eyes and see the biggest tower you've ever laid eyes on, nothing but the best for his cats. A similar-looking cat rests inside the top cubby, peacefully sleeping. "That's really sweet of you to rescue one of her babies as well. Were you planning on bringing home two cats that day?" 

"No, I was trying to find a companion for my first cat, but Bella," he says pointing to the black cat. "Was very attached to her mother." Jimin heads towards her, gently picks her up out of the cubby, and carries her back over to the couch. As soon as he sets her down, you see for yourself, the attachment he talks about. Bella saunters over to her mother and makes herself comfortable, snuggling close until she falls back asleep. "I fell in love with their relationship, how Luna was and still is a great mother to Bella. They're inseparable and I didn't want them to get adopted separately and go to different homes when they should be together."

You feel like your heart is about to explode. His devotion to his three cats amazes you. Jimin is a sensitive man and he's not ashamed of it, you can see that he wears his heart out on his sleeve. You admire him even more, wish you could be more like him, someone who can express their feelings genuinely, carefree.

He walks over to his window, the one that accesses the fire escape that is shared with your apartment. A cat lays basking in the sun on the window sill. "Now this here is my baby." His face turns into that of panic for a second as he corrects himself. "Not saying the other two are not of course! Kitty Cat was my first so she holds a special place in my heart," he explains. You're not sure if he corrected himself because he doesn't want you to think he plays favorites or if he fears he offended his other two cats somehow. You find that thought amusing, you let out a light chuckle.

"Kitty Cat?" You sit on his floor with your back against the couch, not wanting to disturb the sleeping mother and daughter. You watch Jimin pick up 'his baby', cradling her against his chest. His hands rubbing soothing circles on her belly. He comes to sit beside you. 

"That's the result of letting my old neighbor's daughter name her. She was only five, so naturally she named her Kitty Cat." He shifts her in his arms and holds the cat out for you to grab. She squirms in your hold for a moment before you settle her in your lap, resuming her nap almost instantly. Jimin smiles at you as he watches the cat get comfortable with your presence. 

The cat's fur is soft under your touch, you play with her white paws, soothingly rubbing your thumbs over them. She's a tuxedo cat and her paws look like little booties, she's precious. "What?" you question when you see him watching you. His smile is doing things to you, you thank heavens you're sitting as you grow weak under his gaze. 

"I think she recognizes your scent."

You look at him puzzled. "What do you mean? This is the first time I've met her." You gaze down at the cat. Have you seen her before? She doesn't seem familiar. 

Your eyes are back on him as he chuckles. "Well you see," he starts. He points at the window Kitty Cat was just sleeping at. "She is the only one allowed on the fire escape because she doesn't run away, except for this one day." He runs his hands through his beautiful black hair, you assume he's mentally reliving the stress of whatever story he is about to retell as his face scrunches up slightly. You watch his locks settle back into place, they look so soft to touch. 

"I went out to the fire escape to bring her back in after some time had passed but she was nowhere to be found. She ended up in your apartment actually." 

That had you narrowing your eyes at him. "How on earth did she get into my apartment?"

"Did you forget already?" Jimin looks at you dumbfounded. "You have a problem with leaving your window open. We talked about this." One of his eyebrows lifts up as he looks at you teasingly, shaking his head in disbelief. 

Right. You don't close your windows. "Yeah yeah, ok I get it." You wave him off. You've been doing a better job at remembering to do so since the night he decided it was a good idea to climb through your window, giving you a heart attack. "How did you get her out?"

Now he's doing that thing again, grabbing at the back of his neck. His arms flex at the motion, your eyes struggling to stay focused on his face and definitely not on his toned muscles. "When I finally heard her meow, I saw her in your living room. I kept trying to make her come to me, but she wouldn't. So I panicked." 

He shrinks into himself slightly and murmurs, "I went in and grabbed her quickly." He looks at you sheepishly, biting his lip as he paused for a moment to gauge your reaction. "But I promise it was super quick and I closed the window behind me," he finished hurriedly. 

Your hands stop their movement on Kitty Cat. You lift a finger and poke at his chest. "So when you said you close my window because you care about my safety, you meant to say you close it because your cat was getting into my apartment." His chest felt firm under your finger. You're momentarily consumed with thoughts of running your hands against his chest, but you're quickly brought back to the present when Jimin grabs your hand.

"Yes, but I also care about your safety, that's why I keep doing it." He doesn't let go of your hand, lowering it in his lap as he continues, "I closed it for you two days ago for example. It was wide open again." His thumb slowly brushes against your knuckles as he holds your gaze.

You fall into a comfortable silence as you two sit there on his floor. Your heart is pounding out of control at the tender contact and the idea of him caring. Does he care for you as his neighbor? Or would you be silly in thinking it could be more than that? You two were strangers just a few weeks ago. You never would have predicted being in this position, over his house with his cat on your lap and him holding your hand.

The oven beeps, signifying the food is ready, screaming for it to be taken about before it burns. The noise makes Kitty Cat stir on your lap. Jimin loosens his grip on your hand and you reluctantly let him go. You watch him grab her off your lap and place her on the couch with the other two.

He stands up, brushes away the imaginary dust on his jeans, and clears his throat. You also busy yourself with fixing your shirt, not knowing where to put your hands now that it wasn't connected with his. You look up to see his hand reaching out to help you stand. 

"Let's eat?"

Your hands connect again. You feel at ease.

—

< PART 01 | PART 03 >

all rights reserved © 2020 yoongsgguktae copying / redistributing the work is not allowed

—

reviews are always welcomed :)

MASTERLIST

[serendipitykpop]

do you like him?

Pairing: mark lee x reader

Summary: “So do you like Mark?”

“Let’s see. What do I have to get done today?”

You mumbled to yourself as you made a list of all the chores you had to get done before the weekly movie night later tonight. The ‘99 line made a unanimous decision to hold it at your house every Friday, even though you hadn’t suggested such an idea. Though, you didn’t mind since you always ended up having a good time with them anyways.

They were currently sprawled all over your living room, taking advantage of your brother’s gaming console while your family was out doing their own thing. You barely spared a glance their way as you were too busy to deal with their shenanigans.

“Do the laundry, make the snacks, order the pizza, clean up the movie room to set  up the blankets and pillows, and I think that should be it.” You nodded and got up to gather the dirty laundry. You passed the boys on your way, letting them where you were if they needed anything. They grunted in response, too focused on the tv screen.

“Y/N!” You heard someone loudly yell your name, interrupting your thoughts. You let out a sigh and turned to the door. Yukhei poked his head into the basement with a big smile on his face. You didn’t like it when he had that particular smile.

“Yes, Yukhei?”

His smile widened from being acknowledged. He happily walked in and leaned against the dryer with his arms crossed. You quirked an eyebrow.

“I have a question.”

“And I don’t know if I have an answer.”

Usually, whenever he had a question, it was so far fetched, you had no idea how to respond to appease his curiosity. Then again, his rapid-fire of questions always happened when you want to sleep after a long day, but Yukhei just has to absolutely know why it’s not possible for the moon to be made out of cheese.

Yukhei blinked at you, making you sigh.

“Fine. Ask your question,” You said as his smile returned to his face. He looked both left and right as if scoping out the possibility that someone was listening in. You rolled your eyes and began putting clothes into the washer.

“Do you like Mark?”

Your eyes widened and you froze in your spot, then slowly turned to him. He acted as if his question didn’t carry so much and that it was just another one of his silly questions. You gulped. What kind of question was this?

You nervously laughed, lightly punching him in the arm. “Yukhei. What are you talking about-”

“Well, I was just wondering since you tend to stare at him a lot when you think he’s not looking. Then, you brighten up like a lightbulb when he comes into the room. You practically drool when you see him in concert attire and even casual attire. I sometimes think your face is going to get permanently stuck in a smile from how much you laugh with him. You’ve also got this goofy look on your face when he gives you a hug and then-”

“Okay, I get it already.” You place your hand over his mouth to stop him from exposing any more of your secrets. You were beet red in the face and pretty sure there was steam coming from it because of how embarrassed you were.

“So is it true?” Yukhei asked after you dropped your hand. You groaned, facepalming. You thought you hid it well, but apparently not.

“Why must you know so badly?” You finally looked at him in the eye. He smiled and shrugged.

“Oh, because Guanheng and Dejun don’t believe me.”

“You three have talked about this-”

“GUANHENG. DEJUN.”

“Shut up, Yukhei! What are you doing?” You exclaimed, trying to shut him up. You didn’t want Mark coming down to see what you were all up to. He was the last person you wanted to explain this to.

Not soon after, two heads poked into the basement.

“You called?” Guanheng smiled as they walked in and Dejun closed the door behind them. You really wanted to die.

“Mark’s going to get suspicious if we’re all down here without him.”

“Don’t worry about that. He’s too busy playing with Donghyuk right now,” Dejun assured you, but you didn’t feel any better.

You shot a death glare towards Yukhei to which he only smiled innocently. You ran a hand through your hair out of stress. The three boys got closer.

“So is it true? That you like Mark?” Guanheng whispered, cupping his hand to make it more secret.

“I won’t believe it until Y/N says so,” Dejun said to Yukhei. 

“I’m telling you they’re totally in love, man.” 

Which caused an argument between the three of them. You only wanted to do laundry, but now you were being bombarded with questions and their shenanigans.

“Well, it is questionable when Y/N looks at Mark as if he’s the cutest thing in the entire universe and goes on about for hours.”

“And Y/N does laugh a little louder when the joke isn’t that funny, but it makes Mark super happy.”

“And isn’t it always Y/N who is the first person to comfort Mark when he’s feeling insecure or doesn’t feel good?”

“Y/N also has a tendency to space off with this loopy smile whenever Mark is mentioned.”

“Even when it comes to special events, Y/N does the utmost for Mark, but only for him.” Guanheng and Dejun went back and forth, listing all the embarrassing things you do around the boy.

“See, doesn’t all of that mean Y/N likes Mark? Dare I say, even love him?” Yukhei gasped and the two of them nodded along.

“It does make sense.”

“Yes, after all, those are the things you do when you like someone.”

“So there’s no denying it, Y/N. You love him.”

“Ooo, you love him!”

You were trembling with embarrassment. Your face was the reddest the boys have ever seen. All of your feelings had just been brought to light. What more could you argue when the facts were all there? They were so obvious.

“All right! So, maybe I do like him!” You exclaimed, making big smiles appear on their faces. They instantly erupt into chaos, yelling about how it was all coming together, that they were going to be groomsmen in due time. “Shut up! He’s definitely going to hear now!”

“You love him, Y/N! You really love him!” Guanheng teased.

“I can’t wait for the wedding!” Dejun beamed.

“I want to be the godfather, I called it!” Yukhei interjected, pointed to himself and eyeing the other two.

Was it really a good idea to have told these boys your biggest secret?

“Just, wait. I don’t plan on telling him anytime soon, so I need the three of you to keep your mouths shut, okay?”

“But why?” They whined like children who couldn’t get what they wanted. You sighed.

“I don’t want to ruin what we have right now. Maybe, there will be a day where I tell him, but for now, I like how we are.”

They pouted.

“But-”

“No buts.”

“Fine.”

“But we’re happy though, Y/N. You were able to tell us something as big as that.”

“Did I really have a choice?” You chuckled and they shrugged.

“Now, boys. It’s up to us now to get these two kids together. We have to be discrete, but also forward in our advances.”

“Right.”

“So what we need to do is get them to be together all the time. We need to tell the other members, so we can all get this to work.”

“Oh, no, you don’t! You’re not getting the others involved!”

“But why not? We want little Y/N/Mark babies running around soon!”

“Yeah, how else are we going to have that when nothing happens?”

“You three better run. Now.”

Chaos ensued as Yukhei, Guanheng and Dejun run around the basement in pursuit of finding a place to hide from your wrath. They really were going to get it now that they have teased you that much.

“So you two gonna get freaky later?”

“YUKHEI.”

“WE’RE SO DEAD.”

“YUKHEI, WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?”

“IT WAS A GENUINE QUESTION THOUGH.”

Little did you all know, there was a certain someone listening in behind the wall.

“Woah. I don’t think I was meant to hear all that,” Mark mumbled, red as a cherry with his hand over his mouth. Though, he couldn’t help but feel giddy that you felt the same way.

“What do I do now?”

[flowerfan2]

One Night in Milwaukee - Ch. 5

I’m considering changing the title to “One Night in Milwaukee (and a week in Florida)...”  Enjoy and please reblog!

David x Patrick, 15k so far, A03

Chapter 5

David takes his time showering and doing his hair.  He had thought that his run would center him, but all it took was one quick conversation with Patrick to knock him off balance.  

He wishes he could put his own clothes back on, but since everything he brought with him is either in the wash or soaked in sweat, it’s not an option.  Tying a towel around his waist, he goes into the bedroom and looks through Patrick’s suitcase.  He allows himself a satisfying eye roll at the contents – the expected button-downs in shades of blue and green, jeans that probably won’t even fit David, and a few plain t-shirts and pairs of khaki shorts.  David sighs and selects briefs, shorts, and an olive green t-shirt, a nondescript fashion choice that would make his mother weep.  At least he’ll only have to wear them for an hour or so until his own clothes come out of the dryer.

He finds Patrick in the kitchen, hovering next to the island.

“I made eggs,” Patrick says, sliding a plate towards him.

“Thanks.”  The eggs are just like David likes them, with a sprinkle of salt and pepper, and a piece of toast on the side.  David recognizes the wheat bread he bought yesterday on his trip to the grocery store, somewhat bland but decent enough given the heaping of butter Patrick has spread on it.

They eat in silence for a few minutes, until the stress of it is too much for David to take.

“These are good.”

“It’s just scrambled, we didn’t have any cheese-”

“I can go to the store again, I didn’t know what you’d want-”

“You don’t have to do that,” Patrick says.  “You didn’t have to go in the first place.”

“So I shouldn’t have?”

“No, no, it was great that you did…” Patrick catches David’s gaze, and they both sigh.  “Why is this so awkward?” Patrick asks, taking their now empty plates and putting them in the sink.

“I don’t know, maybe because it’s been a long time, and things are different, and we both want everything to work out?  But there’s no guarantee.” David stands up and waves his hands at the neat little kitchen and the safe tan sofa with its blue and white pillows and the “Home Sweet Home” sign on the wall with an outline of the state of Florida.  He’s not sure he’s ever felt so out of place.  “And this is not somewhere I ever expected to be, and I really don’t know what to do with it.”

Patrick nods, that sadness coming over his face again, and it makes David want to strangle someone.  Not Patrick, never Patrick.  But whoever was responsible for taking his good, decent button and making him sad.

<i>It was you, you asshole,</i> his unhelpful brain tells him, and isn’t that just the worst.

“Want to see the pool?” Patrick asks, and although David can see it perfectly well from here, he figures it can’t hurt.  At least the screens will keep the alligators away.

They go outside, and the warmth of the sunshine surprises David. It’s gotten hotter even in the past hour since he was outside.  It may be late November, but this part of the world hasn’t gotten the message.  He wanders over to the pool and dips his toes in, then sits down by the steps in the shallow end and puts his feet in the water.

Patrick comes over and lowers himself to the concrete, David reaching out automatically to give him something to brace himself against.  When Patrick starts to put his feet in David stops him with a hand to his ankle, carefully rolling up one leg of his jeans and then the other.  David’s knuckles brush against the wiry hairs on Patrick’s leg as he neatly cuffs each pant leg.  He wants to roll Patrick’s shirt sleeves up, too, reveal more of his lovely forearms, but it seems a step too far.

“Thanks.”

“Wet jeans are an abomination,” David comments.

“Kind of like you wearing my khaki shorts?”  Patrick’s mouth quirks up in an attempt at a smile, and David’s heart lifts.

“Nice.  Just a few minutes again you said I looked good.”

The hint of a smile disappears, as David’s words fail to land the way he meant.  “I’m sorry, David, am I supposed to apologize for that?  I don’t understand why it upset you.  You do look good.  Clearly you’ve been working out – aren’t you allowed to be pleased with the outcome?”

David squeezes his eyes closed and leans his head back.  “Yes?  But…” He’s not sure how to explain it.  “It’s not about vanity, or, appearance.  I know that probably sounds fake, coming from me,” he opens his eyes and looks at Patrick, who is gazing back as patient and open as ever, “but it’s true.”

“Okay,” Patrick says, clearly waiting for David to fill in the blanks.  David had hoped a discussion about this particular part of his recent history could have been put off, possibly indefinitely, but it’s feeling like one of those moments when he’ll regret it if he brushes it off again.  And maybe opening up will get Patrick to do the same.

“I was pretty depressed, after we broke up,” David says, running the tips of his fingers through the water, watching the ripples spread across the surface of the pool.  “Couldn’t get out of bed, lost interest in everything… you know how it goes.”  He’s not sure Patrick does, but he can’t help but try to make light of it, as awful as it was.  It’s hard to really focus on those months, the drag of gray haze that wouldn’t clear.  “Eventually I started seeing a therapist.”

“You mentioned that,” Patrick says, and David relaxes a fraction, because he had forgotten.  Maybe this won’t be that hard, then.  It hasn’t chased Patrick away yet.  

“Right.  Well, he recommended a bunch of stuff to try, including exercising regularly, and I resisted at first-”

“Obviously,” Patrick says.

David glares up at Patrick, who’s got his best trolling face on, deliciously familiar, and suddenly spilling his guts doesn’t seem so embarrassing anymore.  “Anyway, once I started, it wasn’t so bad.  Despite what I once told you about running… it worked for me.”  That and laying off the alcohol.

“That’s great, David.”

“Well, Alexis says I just replaced one obsession with another.”

“Is that so bad, when it’s a healthy one?”

“You didn’t have to put up with me when I couldn’t go out for a run because of crappy weather, or inconveniently scheduled vendor meetings.”

There’s a hitch in the rhythm of their banter, and Patrick takes David’s hand in his.  “I wish I did.  I wish I was there.”

David feels his chest tighten, and he gives Patrick’s hand a squeeze.  “Me too.”

They sit there with their feet in the water, like little kids in a backyard wading pool.  There’s no breeze to speak of, but it’s not completely quiet.  The sound of the highway a few streets away provides a bit of background noise, and a weird bird keeps making a strangled chirpy sound from a hedge on the side of the house.  

David’s past encounters with Florida involved multi-million-dollar yachts, tanned supermodels, and free-flowing booze and drugs, not this strange version of suburbia.  He imagines this house sitting empty for most of the year, waiting for its owners to come and visit.  How many of the cookie cutter three-bedrooms in this neighborhood are empty right now?  How many swimming pools are noticed only by the staff who come by weekly to clean them and make sure nothing has crawled into the filters and died?

“This water’s probably terrible for your skin,” David says, and Patrick looks at him in mild confusion.  “Because of all the chemicals.”  

Patrick shrugs.  “I guess.”

“There are chemicals in here, right?”

“I don’t know, which would upset you more – the amount of chlorine dumped in here or the water being left in its natural state?”

David pulls his feet out of the water and stretches his legs to the side, the concrete warm on his heels.   “I’m honestly not sure.  But maybe we shouldn’t take any chances.”

Patrick stands up, leaning hard on David’s shoulder as he goes.  “Wait here.  I’ll be right back.”

David stays put, although now that he’s thinking about what might be in the pool water he wouldn’t mind rinsing off and applying some lotion.  Or some hand sanitizer.

Patrick comes back out of the house with an armload of cushions and drops them onto the lounge chairs by the other end of the pool.  “Come help me set these up.”

It only takes a moment to unfold the brightly patterned cushions and tie them into place (ah, there’s the Hawaiian floral, David thinks to himself).  While David is arranging the loungers to his liking, facing the sun, Patrick comes back with two bottles of water.  David twists off the top and rinses his feet while Patrick squawks at him.

“What?  Was that not what this was for?”  He tries not to smile.

“David.  That water was to drink.  There’s an outdoor shower over there.”  Patrick points to the side of the house, then seems to regret his decision.  “But don’t walk out there without shoes, okay?”

“What, will the baby alligators nip at my toes?”

Patrick grins at him.  “No, but the fire ants will.”

“What the hell kind of place is this?”

“It’s just nature, David.  As long as you wear shoes in the grass, you’ll be fine.”

“I feel like the state of Florida must have had some really good marketing professionals along the way.  Alexis should get a job with them.  They’ve managed to convince people that this pest-ridden swampland is worth something.”

“Arguably that is kind of what happened.  You know Disney World was built on reclaimed swampland, right?”

“I did not know that.”

“Anyway, this neighborhood isn’t all there is.  Give me another day to rest up, then I’ll show you around.”

Another day to rest isn’t really going to cut it, David thinks, watching Patrick wince as he eases himself down in the chair.  He wonders again what Patrick had in mind when he made his escape to the sunshine state, which brings them right back to the conversation Patrick keeps avoiding.

“Patrick, how long, exactly, are you planning on staying here?”  David asks, hoping that the direct approach might actually get him an answer.

Patrick stares up at the sky.  “I don’t know.”

Patrick’s hair looks like polished copper in the sunlight, but David tries not to let it distract him.  “How much time can you take off from work?” David presses.  “Or are you working remotely doing… whatever you are doing now?”

Patrick takes a long gulp from his water bottle, then stares at his feet.  “I’m unemployed.  I lost my job about a month ago,” he says bitterly.

“Oh.”  David is surprised, to say the least, especially by Patrick’s tone.  He’s always seemed like he would be the ideal employee, eager to please and determinedly hardworking.  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah.  Well, after you piss off a major customer, it’s hard to convince your employer to retain you.”

“It can’t have been that bad.  I don’t think I can imagine you pissing off a customer.”

“It was, and I did.”

“What on earth did you do?”

“Do you really want to know?”

David sits up and squints at Patrick, no longer enjoying the sun on his face. He doesn’t even have sunglasses with him, a major miscalculation. “Yes, of course.”

Patrick leans back and closes his eyes.  “I was working as an account manager at a software company.  It was boring as hell.  Sales, mostly, skating by with just enough technical knowledge about the product to capture the customer’s interest, and then serving as the liaison between the customer and the tech guys who actually knew what they were doing.  But I kept screwing things up, and when the customers would want to know why the contract didn’t have the terms they wanted, or why I was taking so long to get back to them, I just didn’t have the patience to deal with it.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

Patrick opens his eyes and looks at David, and he looks almost as bewildered as David is.  “No, it doesn’t, does it?”

David has the feeling there’s more to this story, but Patrick doesn’t elaborate, and all David really wants to do is give him a hug.

“You know, I have a feeling you don’t have an ounce of sunscreen on.  You’re going to be bright red if we stay out here any longer.”  David stands up and holds out a hand to Patrick, then slides his arm around his back to pull him up.  When they’re both upright, he loops his arms around Patrick’s neck and pulls him close.

Patrick presses his face against David’s neck.  “I’m a mess, David,” he says, his breath hot on David’s skin.  “I don’t know what happened to me.”

“I think we’ve both been a little lost,” David says, holding Patrick tight.  “But I know what will fix it.”

“Yeah?”  There’s an almost pathetically hopeful note in Patrick’s voice.

“Absolutely.”

“What?”

“Running.  Miles of it.  Every day.  It’s a miracle drug.”  David is struggling to keep up his serious tone, and not quite succeeding.

Patrick chokes out a laugh, pressing a hand against his ribs.  “I don’t think I’m quite up for running yet.”

“Well fine, then, you’ll just have to watch me do it.  It’s almost as good.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Patrick says, and kisses David soundly.  David hesitates for a second and then enthusiastically participates, and they are both breathing heavily by the time they pull apart.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what brought that on?” David asks as they go inside, the shade welcome after the bright sunshine.  He keeps a hand on Patrick as they go, not so much to make sure he doesn’t fall over but because he doesn’t want to lose this connection, now that he’s found it again.

Patrick takes hold of David’s waist, his eyes on David’s brighter than they’ve looked in days.  “You.  I thought I was dreaming, sometimes, remembering how much I liked you – loved you, too, but just fucking liked you.  But I wasn’t.”

“I’m the best,” David says, half-joking, but there’s a familiar happiness bursting inside his chest.

“You are, David.  You really are.”

[captainjimothycarter]

Steggy + sweater weather

This is not what you wanted OP and I am so so sorry. I don’t know where this came from. This is for @womenarethesequel. They didn’t ask for it, I just saw they wanted Hurt/Comfort and wellllll....

Cue Steve going back to shortly after his death instead of 1949.

--

Peggy’s bottom lip trembled as she picked up the folded sweater from where it laid in the contents of her suitcase. Everything in her life, in Steve’s life, had been combined to one small suitcase with its frayed corners, broken handles, and busted wheels. 

Everything she had left to remember Steve by laid in this suitcase. Things the public would never come to see, things that not even behind closed doors of the SSR will know, and perhaps even the Howling Commandos.

Though, the last one was a huge might.

The only other person who could know, now laid dead too. Having died just weeks ago before Steve’s frozen grave.

This was her first time in Brooklyn, a place she will be forced to call her home, a place she’d never get to know through Steve’s eyes, but through what memories she’s had of him. This is a place that she will make her own because she has to because the world has left her no choice.

If the world has a lesson it wants to teach her, then it’s doing so. She’s been stripped from all those that she holds dear to her heart. From Michael, her brother, having died shortly after her engagement party. Where he was not supposed to be at all, where he broke protocol just to surprise his little sister, and give her the unwanted advice she didn’t know she needed.

Where their last words had been hateful spite between them in a yelling argument that caused him to storm out of the house and never to be seen again. His letter will arrive a week later with his apology and reluctant dedication to her new to-be husband.

A day before the men in suits will arrive, where she will leave behind her wedding dress, and a mother left waiting.

The world has told her she is to hold no lovers, no person close to her heart. They have stripped her of a friend she didn’t know she needed. Of James Barnes, someone who’d never replaced Michael but could be close to her in that sense.

Someone who made her smile despite the world was crashing around them. Reminded her that she too was human and invaded her personal space when she didn’t want a soul near her.

His death had broke that facade in her and the only other person who’d seen past the cracks…

His sweater, the cream-colored, handknitted, aged, and soft sweater, that still lingered with just a hint of his musky, spicy scent laid in her hands. 

The tears burned Peggy’s eyes as she held the sweater to her face and crushed it against her chest, taking in a deep breath of dust and the scent of Steve to calm herself down. 

It will do no good to cry. She’s cried far too much recently, in private of her own quarters, when no one was looking at her. No one except Howard and the few times Phillips had seen her.

She never quite found the words to thank the man when he handed her an unmarked file in their cleanup of the office. Tucked into the contents of the file was something that shouldn’t be there. Steve’s photo.

Colonel Phillip’s way of telling her that he’s sorry for her loss and while he can’t outright say it, he understands loss as much as anyone. 

He’s had a family at one point, she’s learned through his drunken tales. A wife, two sons, a little girl. She doesn’t need to ask what happened to them, Peggy can read it in the lines of his face, the way his eyes will watch a little, blonde girl skip across the street with her mother, the way he plays with the wedding band that he’s never without.

He knows loss as much as either of them, if not more. 

In a way, she’s almost jealous. At least he had time, Steve and her? They’d only just begun.

And it’s selfish that thought, she knows it is. It’s a bitter brew of hatred and guilt that’s always bubbling just under the surface. That’s not her. That’s not who she should be. That’s not who Steve would want her to be.

What would he know? He’s dead.

They’d spent weeks on the Arctic before she was forced to come back to Brooklyn, Howard setting her up in a small flat under his name, promising someone named Jarvis will drop food off every day, while he’s gone until she’s back on her feet.

She almost didn’t take it, but Peggy realized she had no choice. She has no home to her name. Her mother had died at the start of the war, shortly after Michael’s death.

And it’s here, on this brand new bed that Howard had purchased for her, that she realizes she’s alone. 

Utterly and truly alone. 

The sob drags something deep, ugly, and dark inside of her. She doesn’t even feel it escape her lips. She feels it tug on her heart. She feels it shake her chest, the hot tear roll down her face. She cries into Steve’s sweater until she’s out of breath, face blotched red, and tears burning her eyes.

She cries until she can do no more but drag breath after breath, feeling her throat raw and aching, eyes raw from constantly wiping them.

She does the only sensible thing she can do and that’s to pull on Steve’s sweater, stuff the empty suitcase under the bed, and crawl under the covers.

She falls asleep to his scent, to the idea that he’s right there behind her, holding her close, the sound of October’s harsh weather, beating wind and rain against the window.

The days drag on by in a pattern that Peggy doesn’t even notice she’s fallen into. Every morning she wakes up, breakfast is under a tin covering outside her door. Some days its eggs and toast, other days its sausage and pancakes, or a variant of the few meals. She doesn’t eat much, more picks at it, until her appetite still comes back.

She goes to work at the SSR office, keeping her head down, ignoring the jabs, and jars of the fact she worked with Captain America. It’s a temporary office, this one in New Jersey until the one in Brooklyn opens up within the following week.

She’s looking forward to that week, a week of not having to go to work and face the public that’s still mourning Captain America’s loss. They’d never know. They’d never know the true pain that lays inside of her when she hears his name.

She goes to bed every night, wearing his sweater. It’s losing his scent and the terrifying thought fills Peggy of what will she do when it’s gone? There’s no way to get it back.

Half a week into her preparing to move to Brooklyn’s SSR office, Peggy finds herself awake in the middle of the night, after nodding off for a few hours on the couch.

The bed comes to be a place she can’t call home. Too large, too empty, too cold. The couch is comfortable because she can cocoon under a thick blanket, with the dying fire in the fireplace for light.

She’s confused as to what wakes her up, listening to the rain pounding on the window. It’s rained every night this week as if the world is telling her something.

That’s when she hears it, the sound of thunder when there is no lightning. It takes her frazzled brain a second too long to come to the realization that it’s not thunder but someone at her door.

Knocking-in three fast sets, followed by two, then four.

Her heart lurches to her throat.

That was...there was no way, no possible way. He was dead. He was dead and gone and Howard had even returned empty-handed. So how…?

Could her mind be playing tricks on her? Just exhaustion. Had to be a state of exhaustion and even as she thought it, Peggy couldn’t stop herself from touching the doorknob. The person on the other side, that thing is silent. She pressed her ear to the cool frame and nearly falls backward when the knocking starts again.

That’s when she hears it.

“Peggy.” 

This has to be a nightmare caused by her exhaustion. It has to be. Yet it sounds so real. She’d never forgive herself if she didn’t try.

Pulling the gun from the coffee table, Peggy slowly opens the door, the gun aimed at the figure in the doorway. It’s not until lightning streaks the sky that Peggy drops the gun with an audible gasp.

It’s him. It’s Steve.

It’s not her Steve, but it is him.

Her hand shakenly turns on the lamp to give him some light, taking one, two, three steps back until she almost falls over the ottoman and if it wasn’t for Steve’s quick reflexes, she would’ve had a hard ending. He catches her by her waist and uprights her and just as fast as he’s touched her, he lets go and stands with space between them.

Despite she holds no gun, his hands are up and the door behind them has shut. He’s soaked to the bone, she notes. His blonde hair flops in his face, his shirt is soaked through, to the point she can count his abs through his collard shirt. He looks stiff and nervous, the flowers in his hand are the ugliest, water drowned things she’s ever seen.

And yet, they couldn’t be more beautiful.

“I don’t...I don’t understand,” she breathed, lowering her hand from her mouth and trying to steal her emotions. “How-how are you…? Howard said you...he couldn’t…”

“He didn’t,” Steve said calmly and softly like he’s practiced this speech a hundred times over. He sets the flowers down as if it’s a weapon that lays between them and picks up her gun. He hands it back to her and that move alone, if Peggy has had any doubts on if this Steve is her Steve, it shows her that he’s hers.

“It’s a-a long story, Peggy. Can I come in? I promise I will answer every question you have but-but you have to let me finish talking, okay?” 

He’s certainly nervous, he’s stammering but there’s a sense about him, he’s more confident now. She can barely nod before he’s coming closer to her and instinct wise she backs up two steps.

Steve looks hurt, but keeps his distance, giving a timid smile. “I’ll put the kettle on, you sit, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” His face pinches at the expression and Peggy laughs, it’s taunt and tight, but it’s a laugh. “Wrong words, I know. Guess I always put my foot in my mouth around you.”

Fifteen minutes later, Steve’s in an old army issued shirt, his hair now dryer, with a mug of tea in his hands. Hers sits just in front of her, untouched despite Steve followed her rules to a T in making the perfect cuppa.

It’s unnerving how he’s sitting here on the couch, right beside her, and not touching her. That’s not the unnerving part. The unnerving part is that he’s here. Like he fits in this space, like he’s always fitted in here and belonged, and has been here the entire time.

Now that they’re both under better light, Peggy can make Steve out more. There’s graying hair at his temples. His shoulders sag as if he’s carried the weight of the world far one too many times. She can’t explain it but there’s a haunting look in his eyes, one that she’s seen in soldiers and herself, but Steve’s? It’s deeper, harder like he’s had to relive his worst day over and over and over again with no avail. 

Knowing Steve? He’s chosen to do so if it would save any other soul from the pain of having to do so.

“Howard didn’t find me,” Steve speaks up, looking down at the dark liquid in his mug, rather than at her. “I was found...roughly sixty-five or so years after I was frozen. The serum - it helped keep me alive, but it stripped me of all my strength. I had to learn how to function again, how to be a human being. It was like when I first got the serum, but slow instead of all at once. I had to learn how to walk, to often breathe at times, to gain muscle control over my own body. Not-not to mention my appetite, you always knew how hungry I was… I could barely stand to smell good, much less look at it. The exhaustion was the worst part, barely able to hold a conversation without...without passing out…”

Peggy wants to speak, she does. He looks at her as if expecting her to interrupt, but she doesn’t. She just gives him a polite smile to let him know she’s listening. Her hand slowly moves to touch him. Just a gentle tap on his shoulder, prove to herself he’s alive.

“I’m real, Peggy. I know it doesn’t seem like that, but I’m real. I don’t think…” He gives a hollow laugh to only a joke he knows the punchline to. “I don’t think anyone hurting this bad would be dead, but if there is a soul…” 

Out from the inside of his pocket, Steve pulls out the compass. She recognizes it at once, where he’s etched his initials into the backside. SGR. The thing is faded and rusted, the initials almost faded into the rust. When she opens it with shaky fingers, she sees her picture. It’s faded and barely recognizable, but it’s there.

This is her Steve.

She holds the cold compass close to her chest and looks up at him with wide eyes. It’s Steve’s turn to smile this time. 

“You see after they found me, I was able to...join or-or start...hell, I don’t even know anymore...I was with this team called the Avengers…”

And so Steve tells her the tale. This utterly ridiculous tale of how he joined the Avengers, how he leads them into great battle after battle. How they’ve saved the world countless times. How he joined SHIELD and tore it down from the inside out. How Sargeant Barnes is alive and under the product of Hydra. How the team saved the world one last time until they didn’t. Until they lost everyone…

Until Steve lost everyone and bore each and every soul lost as a weight on his shoulders that he was crushing under.

Until he, eventually lost her too…

Until they won it all back. Until time travel was invented until he saw her. Older, fiercer, yet leading Shield as a Director, commanding the men with such fierce abandonment of authority that they had no choice but to do as she says.

Until Steve had realized he still loved her. He’d never stopped. He’d fooled himself into thinking he was content. 

Until the end of the world’s battle came and they’d won so much, yet lost so much more.

Until he returned to her, with a promise of a new life on his tongue, and knowing just where he needs to be.

She wants to yell at him. She wants to even slap him for being late. She wants to run away from him and never return. This isn’t real. This has no way of being real and yet, it is.

It’s such an outrageous tale full of enough details peppered here and there that Peggy is forced to believe. Because it’s from Steve.

Because it’s a man whose so hurt and sickly and he can’t even see it himself. The pain he looks at her like her touch could heal a broken man, if even by an inch.

Peggy’s moving before she can help it. The sweater is off, revealing a slip and she slips it on over his body like she’s dressing a toddler. She kneels between his legs and takes his face in her hands. There are more lines than she remembers. He’s certainly older. This isn’t her Steve and yet, this is the Steve that came back to her.

“I’m not him,” Steve whispers as if reading her mind. “I can never be him again, Peggy. I can understand if you do not want me, but I-”

Her kiss shuts him up before he can put his foot in his mouth. He melts against her in a sense of relief that seems to flood them both. Her, for knowing and proving Steve is real and for Steve, proving that she still loves him.

“You are him. I love you, Steven, rather you are the man who’d gone into the ice or-or came back to me. I love you.” 

She shouldn’t trust him so easily. She should throw every single question at him from the book and make up a few of her own, run him through the wringer, but Peggy doesn’t need to.

Inside, she knows it’s Steve in the way he looks up at her with tears in his eyes and the way he clings to the hand that’s still on his face.

He’s desperate for human contact in a manner that not even he knows. 

“You’re home,” she whispers as their foreheads touch and even now she’s crying. “You came home to me, darling. You came home.”

“I did,” Steve whispers in response, wrapping her in his arms and tucking her face against the soft wool of the sweater. “And I promise I won’t leave again.”

“Good,” Peggy whispers despite the sob as he cradles her against his chest. “Because then I won’t forgive you if you take your sweater from me. It was the only thing - one of the only things I had…”

“I’ll wear them all for you,” Steve whispers, such a ridiculous notion that makes her heart lurch into her throat. Or it could be the fact he’s carrying her to the bedroom. “So you can remember me, if even for a second when we’re separated by just a minute. I’ll never let you be alone nor forget me again.”

Peggy can’t reply as she breathes Steve in. It’s him. The harsh, spicy scent that’s invading her nose, embedding on the sweater. It’s truly Steve and he was finally home.

[evestedic]

Prompt: Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference. *Janhoo or Everlark

Vampiress Prompt - HG (Part II) 

(Go here for Part I)

Peeta was nervous. 

He hadn’t come off as a creep, right? But he was sure she was going to catch something worse than a cold if she stayed in those damp clothes, and the fire could only do so much. 

A throat-clearing woke him up from his thoughts, and there she was. Katniss. She had on one of his shirts and warm flannel pants; her hair was loose but dryer than when he first had seen her. 

“Oh, awesome, you look...uh...warmer.” Smooth, Peeta.

Katniss simply nodded awkwardly, and he quickly went to offer her a blanket. “Just, sit near the fire; I left you a cup of hot chocolate and some cheese buns. I’ll go put your clothes in the dryer.” She nodded again and Peeta practically bolted out of the room. 

The vampiress sighed and looked around her. This was the second floor of the bakery, and it seemed this man, Peeta, lived here. It was a very warm living room: with the fireplace, a very comfortable couch, and a center table with some books and sketchbooks. He had insisted on getting her clothes dry, which really, she didn’t mind, but she knew how weird non-entirely-human reactions could make others feel uncomfortable. Only, when she realized what this might look like, she was uncertain. Would this man expect her to sleep with him? Here she was, a drenched woman seeking refuge in his bakery, who had accepted to go into his home and take off her clothes. Well, even if he did expect it, Katniss would first break his arm, or tear it off. It wasn’t the first time she had encountered a situation like this. 

“That’s done.” Peeta claimed as he came back and sat on a single sofa opposite hers. “Was it too hot?” Katniss then noticed she hadn’t touched the cup with the warm beverage Peeta had made for her. She took it, blew a bit on it for show and drank. 

Delicious. 

What was happening?  She was sure she hadn’t tasted anything as good as this in all of her second life. Sure, there had been times, like 373 years ago, when she tasted real honey for the first time, or that other, 286 years ago, the mango & cardamom syllabub... But this was just hot chocolate–it wasn’t her first time having it, and surely, the first time it tasted this good. 

“This is delicious. Thank you,” she told Peeta, who in turn, looked shy at the compliment and scratched the back of his hair. 

“I’m sorry I don’t have a TV here. I usually just watch things on my laptop or phone, and I don’t know if you would like that…” 

“It’s okay, I’m not that much of a TV fan, anyway.”

“Ditto. My brothers think I’m crazy because of it.” He chuckled and stirred the fire a bit. “So...do you live close? I can give you a ride home if it’s not that far, or call you a cab when the rain stops.”

“I’m okay. I like walking, and I’m not that far away.” 

After that, silence fell between them. Katniss sipped on her chocolate and Peeta drew in his sketchbook. 

A chiming sound came to her ears, and she told Peeta. 

“Oh, that must be the dryer. Give me a second.” He quickly stood up and left through the door. 

Katniss quickly grabbed the sketchbook and gasped when she saw that his latest drawing-drawings-were of her. Her hands holding the chocolate cup, her eyes lit up by the fire, her face framed by her damp hair when she came into the bakery, and finally her just as she was now, sitting cozily bundled with a blanket and looking at the fire. 

Checking the previous ones, she saw there were other people: men, women, children, although also some sunrises. His fingers were definitely talented; he had managed to sketch four drawings in such a small amount of time. 

Hearing his steps, she quickly put everything back as it was and returned to her previous position. 

“I put your clothes in my room, if you wish to change.” Katniss went to stand up when she saw Peeta holding something up. “Do you want to play?” he asked with a smirk. 

“Cards? Really?”

“I don’t have anything here to entertain a lady, but I remembered my brother left a deck of cards last time he attempted to play poker. So, are you game?” 

She was. 

They played different games, some she knew, some she didn’t, and Katniss also taught Peeta some of her own, those she had played so long ago. 

The smile came easily to her lips, and her laughter fell effortlessly amidst his attempts at being clever. And it wasn’t that he wasn’t a good player, but Katniss could detect even the slightest change in his heartbeat, so she won a lot. 

She was stacking the cards again when a clock sounded loudly in the background. 

“What time is it?” she asked. 

“It’s midnight.” 

“Are you serious?” Katniss hadn’t noticed how long they had been playing. She had spent almost five hours with this stranger, just like that. 

“I better go.” She went to stand up, but Peeta beat her to it. 

“You can stay if you want to.” She must have given him some kind of glare because he quickly put his hands up. “I didn’t mean it like that! I mean, it’s late, and you know how the city is not safe. My room has a lock and you can sleep in there; I can just crash here, wouldn’t be the first time.” 

“I...appreciate the offer, but I need to go.” Katniss quickly followed the scent of her clothes and found a room. 

Locking the door, she went to quickly change while her eyes roamed around. 

There were some frames, Peeta’s art, no doubt, some wrestling trophies, a desk with a laptop and picture frames, some clothes strewn around. It had been a while since Katniss had been in someone else’s room...it felt too intimate, so she always avoided these types of connections. 

Shaking her head, she folded the clothes she had just been borrowing and left them on top of the pillow. When she stepped out, she noticed, by her nose, that Peeta was still in the living room. 

“I’m glad nothing shrank. I should’ve asked you if anything you were wearing was heat-sensitive,” was the first thing he said while putting away his sketchbook once again. It made Katniss curious. Could he have possibly done a new sketch in the few minutes she took changing?

“No, everything is okay. I’ll call myself a cab.” He nodded with a small smile and gathered the cups and plates they’d used, making Katniss feel ungrateful. “I can wash that.”

“No way. My house, my rules. My guests don’t do dishes.” 

Katniss nodded, listening as he went down to put everything in the sink. 

Her taxi app pinged, notifying her that the driver would be there in 3 minutes. 

Perfect. 

“I found a cab.” Her voice was at a normal volume, as she heard Peeta was behind her by the door. 

“Good, then please,” he gestured with his hand, “I’ll escort you to the door.” 

“There’s no need to, really. You’ve done more than enough.” 

“My dad would kill me if I weren’t anything but a gentleman. Please.” His smile was something difficult to say no to, she realized, so she agreed. After this, she wasn’t going to see him again, either way. 

Heading down the stairs, she realized they were both going at a turtle’s pace, slowly putting one foot in front of the other. Why was she stalling? Katniss had said ‘thank you’ tonight more times than in the past decade, probably, and she had managed to keep her usual rudeness at bay; there was nothing left to say. 

Taking a deep breath, she turned around to say goodbye one final time before leaving, but when she whipped her head around to look behind her, Katniss found those piercing blue eyes so close it almost made her gasp. 

“S-Sorry, I...was just going to warn you about the next step; the wood is a bit loose there.” Why was Peeta whispering? Why hadn’t he moved?

Why hadn’t she moved?

He was a step higher than her, making him seem even taller, and the stairs weren’t illuminated by any light above. 

She wondered if there was some magnetic force that suddenly brought them together, because she was sure they had crashed their lips against the other’s at the same time. Katniss quickly found herself pinned against the wall, but she didn’t let go, only pulled at Peeta’s face with both hands, pouring need into the kiss. 

The last time she did this had been centuries ago. She didn't need sex; she'd had sex for decades, and it had long since worked its way out of her system. Lust was something common to her race, but the fever dimmed throughout the immortal years, eventually only happening if you wanted it to. Right this second, she wanted to. And Peeta must have noticed. 

The way he held her waist, tight against his own body told her that. She knew she was stronger than him, but the pure male scent that came from him at that moment made her pliant in his hands. Big, strong, those were the only adjectives her mind could come up with while he sucked the air out of her lungs. 

When their lips parted, she simply dropped her head back, baring her neck to him, a gesture he fully took advantage of, biting where her pulse point should’ve been. 

A shiver ran down her spine, almost making her weak in the knees. Peeta returned to her mouth, and just as his tongue ran across her lower lip, a loud honking noise made them jump apart. 

“That was-” she began to say.

“I, um...I just…” he tried to say.

They stared at each other for a second before Katniss sprinted down the stairs, almost flying through them, not actually touching the steps. 

She opened the door and turned around one last time. 

“Goodbye, Peeta.” 

[thechosenburrito]

Intro to Love: 1.4-Thanks for Ghosting Me

Word Count: 1,581

Description:

Xochi and Carson are on their way to study when they’re rudely interrupted.

Author’s Note:

Almost done with Chapter 1!  Maybe I’ll be done tonight!

Previous Chapter: 1.3-I Can See Right Through You

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It's hard to sleep when you feel like shit.  That's why I only slept for 30 minutes after my little episode the night before.  The clock read 7 o'clock which came as a shock to me as I usually only see it followed by a "pm".  I stayed in bed for a couple of hours, scrolling through an endless stream of nothing on my phone.

My stomach growled out of nowhere.  I smiled a bit when it wasn't immediately followed by nausea.  I got up and pulled a cold slice of pizza from the fridge.  I was able to finish a small slice and figured I could use this time to take an extra-long shower.

It was nice to shower some of the sadness away.   But, when I got out, my eyes were still puffy and had dark circles under them.  This wasn't unusual for a college student.  However, I generally try to present myself as someone who didn't have a mental breakdown the night before.  I dried my hair in front of the mirror in my room.  Drying my thick dark hair required using my blow-dryer on the maximum setting, which isn't optimal for dorms with paper walls.  My true hair revealed itself.  It was wavy in strange places and I had a sort of cowlick in the front.  I plugged in a flat iron to tame the crazy mess.  

I touched the dark bags under my eyes.  I considered putting concealer over them, then on the red marks on the side of my nose, and maybe followed by the weird freckle on my right cheek.  At that point, I didn't really feel like doing make-up anymore.  I looked closely at my eyebrows.  A bit over-grown, but thick brows were in.  I think? Oh well.  I toweled off and pulled on a tank top and hoodie ( Of course with proper supportive garments underneath).  I pulled on a pair of jeans and slipped on my black canvas sneakers.  The iron was finally hot enough and I got to work on my hair.  I've done this a million times, which made it the perfect time to let all my stupid thoughts out.

What if they made really tiny curling irons for eyelashes?  Actually, I don't want that THAT close to my vulnerable eyeball.

Am I strong enough to stand on the tips of my toes in these shoes?

Of course, I put the iron down and tried it out.

"Ow."

Not yet.  Next time for sure.

Should I become a beanie person?  Are beanies secretly my thing?

I pressed my hair to my head and imagined a beanie there.

Nope.  My head is a weird shape.  Guess I can't go bald either.

I finished up my hair and unplugged the iron.  I still had a couple of hours to kill and an orange soda from the vending machine down the hall was calling my name. I grabbed my room keys and wallet and headed down the hallway.  I passed a few early risers on the way.  Do people actually wake up this early? For fun?  I kept scrolling through my phone to avoid eye contact.  I wasn't really feeling the whole 'interaction' thing.  At some point, I realized I was scrolling and not even looking at anything.  Not my best moment.  A sponsored post caught my eye and made me audibly groan.

God, another ad for a Team StrikeForce! (TM).

"Even Superheroes need clean teeth!  Use StrikeForce SuperClean Toothpaste to fight back against plaque!"

StrikeForce was essentially a government-backed superhero team.  They purposely sought out conventionally attractive people with the most vanilla powers ever to represent the "ideal striker".  And they made sure to throw in some token minorities.  You had a strong girl, a flying man, someone that blasted fire from their hands,  and some other generic power. Speed maybe?  Telekinesis?  I did my best to avoid any media with them in it. They were essentially glorified cops who spouted government-approved messages like "It's cool to protect your chip from harm so keep yourself and others safe!  " and "Remember: Public use of powers is against the law!  Only teams like StrikeForce are allowed so everyone can be safe!". Right after the lightning storm, they actually did some important things like stopping individuals who abused their powers.  But, once people realized they could get away with more crimes by keeping on the down-low,  the StrikeForce lost their bite and became the government puppets on kids' backpacks we all knew and loved.

I sighed a bit.  Being critical was too tiring.  I quickly realized that I was going to crash. I didn't expect my sleep debt to catch up to me so quickly. I started getting everything to make coffee but hesitated at the thought of drinking something caffeinated after last night.  

I'll make a cup of tea first.  That'll cancel out the caffeine.

Yes, that's exactly how biology works.

I put on water to heat up and chugged an iced coffee from the fridge while it brewed.  Chasing ice cold coffee with nearly-boiling tea made my insides feel like an absolute mess of clashing temperatures.  

Phone buzzed.

(C) I forgot there's a staff meeting in the study room today.  Wanna go to the library instead?

I paused a moment before replying.

(X) Yeah that works.  I'm good to leave whenever you are

(C) Cool, I'll be downstairs in 5

(X) ok see you then

I threw all my supplies in my backpack, grabbed my keys, and started making my way to the dorm lobby.

I saw Carson chatting with someone at the front desk and laughing.  I'd seen the guy at the front desk a million times and barely made eye contact, except the time I got locked out of my room and was forced to talk to him.

I slowed down my pace and stared at my phone as if I didn't notice before taking a breath and walking up to him.

I struggled to plaster on a normal-looking smile.

"Hey! Ready to get going?" I asked, too cheerily.

"Yeah, just-"

A phone alert when off on all three of our phones.

"MISSING: 20 YR OLD FEMALE, 150 LBS., 5'6", STRIKER, LAST SEEN IN PURPLE SWEATER ON JUAREZ ST 9 AM. SEE LOCAL MEDIA."

My breath caught in my throat.

"Oh no.." I whispered.

"Wow," said Carson. "Juarez Street isn't even that far from here.  Do you think she was a student?"

I shrugged.  The guy at the desks scoffed.

"How do I turn these off? I hate the sound of those dumb ass alerts going off all the time," he said in a huff.

It was Carson's turn to shrug.  He pulled on this backpack.

"Ok, we should get going.  Let's be careful though.  We don't wanna get snatched up!" he said with a laugh.

I smiled and we headed out the door.  We walked for a bit in awkward silence before Carson casually broke it.

"So why did they have to put that the girl was a Striker? Doesn't exactly help identify her," he asked.

"Probably to make sure no one ever looks for her,"  I sighed.

"Really?" he responded innocently.

"Uh no. Ha, not really. I was just making a joke about how people don't tend to like Strikers," I tried to keep from stumbling over my words. "A lot of the time, when they find..uh...a body... they check to see if they're a Striker to help identify them."

We stopped at an intersection.  I decided to let Carson cross first, thinking they wouldn't try to hit me if they saw him first, even though there was only one car quite a bit away.

"Oh yeah.  That actually makes sense since they have..." he rubbed his shoulder "..those chip things.  Do you think it hurts?"

"I don't..." I heard the sound of a car speeding up.  I turned only to be met with the unmarked marked white van only 10 feet away from us.

I didn't have time to scream.  I lunged at Carson, praying that I'd grab onto him in time.  As soon as I got my hands on him, I did my best to think permeable thoughts.  

I watched the bumper pass right through us.  For a split second, I could see into the interior of the van.  The driver was wearing a bandana over his face and sunglasses, but even with both of those, you could tell he was sure that he turned me to roadkill.  I caught a brief glimpse of the back of the van.  I could make out a dark hunched figure and maybe some rope, but it was all going too fast.

We both hit the ground hard.  I was pretty grateful that I landed on a person and not the asphalt.  I rolled off him and tried to catch the breath that got knocked out of me.   It immediately occurred to me that we were both still in street, and I started helping Carson onto the curb.  His arms had some scrapes on his arms and a couple of holes in his T-Shirt, but otherwise, he didn't look too bad.  We collapsed onto the curb.

"Holy shit.  We got lucky." I managed between breaths.

I turned to him, but his face wore an expression of shock rather than relief.

"No.  That was beyond luck.  We should be dead." he said darkly.

He turned to look at me so quickly, I shot right up.

"How did you do that?"

.

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Next Chapter: 1.5-The Good, The Bad, and The Unmasked

a/n:

I can’t think of anything clever to put here but you should totally send me asks and stuff

[theravencawsatmidnight]

Sold pt 4

Summary. Female reader is baught by Dabi and he is not what she expected

You still had the thoughts about the add running around in youre head. You wanted to know what it said . What twisted things youre father put on it . You squeezed Dabis shirt and he looked down from the tv to see youre eyes shut tightly and youre arm twitching. He moved his hand from behind his head laying it on youre shoulder, lightly warming his palm and rubbing his fingers all around youre skin till you stopped shaking . His other hand dug his ciggaret in his ashtray, he curled up around you going to sleep.

In the morning Dabi woke up first , he sat up stretching with his knees up . He looked out the window watching the sun come up a little more. You felt around the bed not feeling anything, you opened youre eyes to see Dabi sitting up lighting a new ciggarete, blowing smoke out the window.

“Smoking is bad for you..”

He smiled blowing more smoke out the window .”lots of things are bad for me puppy, id say this is pretty low on the list.”

You sat up rubbing youre eyes while you talked. “Whats the first thing on the list?”

“The Pro Heroes are my number one.”

He felt a hand on his back and youre chest . You must still be sleepy because you rubbed youre chest on him. He purred looking back to watch you. You were cute when you woke up, so innocent .

“Any plans today puppy?” He asked looking out the window again.

“Uhm.. laundry. Because who knows the last time you washed these blankets and sheets”

“Gotta go to the laundry mat then.”

You looked at his sleepy smiling face. “Seriously..”

“Yep.” He made a kiss face at you .

“Fine.. what are you doing?”

“Villain stuff.”

“Oh how scary” you waved youre hands around getting out of bed and going down to the restroom to shower.

“Just for that you can wash clothes too puppy”

“Then get it all ready for me! .. please.” You closed the restroom door

Dabi chuckled slipping his smoke in his mouth and getting out of bed . He stripped it and dunked the sheets and clothes into a bag zipping it. He left soon after.

•••

When you got out of the shower and dressed the studio was empty and a basket of laundry was waiting for you. You rolled youre eyes slipping the bag on youre shoulder then staring at the bag of money.

“..........”

You kneeled down looking at the very big stack of money all taped up so nice and neatly . Youve never seen so much money. Scoffing you grabbed a 20 and left the studio to go to the laundry mat.

•••

At the hideout Dabi was sitting at the bar with Toga who was asking so many questions about you. Youre favorite color, youre hair color, youre favorite food. Dabi only knew a few answers and that was not good enough for her she he offered to just bring you by.

“REALLY!!!” She jumped out of her seat

“Is that okay Mop Head?” Dabi asked looking over his shoulder at his Leader who was playing his Switch on the couch.

“I dont care.” He said not looking up.

“Yep really” Dabi answered

Toga was so excited she couldint form words. Dabi got out of his seat going to the door with Toga following.

“What are we doing today!” She asked skipping

“Setting things on fire, Setting UA on fire”

“Good luck” Shigaraki said

“Come with us Mop Head”

“Yeah Please Tomura!!!!”

Shigaraki put his Switch down and followed the two out all huffy, his arms folded over his chest.

•••••

Meanwhile you were at the laundry mat playing on youre phone . Well not exactly playing. It had no games and was a flipping flip phone . It did have everyone in the Leagues contacts though. You were curious as to why you needed everyones numbers though. Youre stomach growled and you groaned kicking youreself . You didint bring enough money for food..

You crossed youre arms staring at the dryer. Almost done. Suddenly everyone ran out if the laundry mat and you looked out the big window to see a crowd pointing to the right. You sat on youre knees turning around to see fire trucks zooming past and Pro Heroes rushing by .

“UA is on fire!!!” Someone said.

You blinked getting up looking out the door to see just that. The hill was in flames and everything was catching fire. Blue fire you might add. You shook youre head and went back inside to gather the laundry into youre bag . You were about to leave when you saw everyone left their bags in the laundry mat.

Quickly you checked the crowd and tip toed to everyones bags taking the money out of their wallet.

“....miiiineee...” you sneaked out going to the grocery store.

You got home first . With food and clean everything . You put the food away first. You had no idea what this man ate but if he didint like it he didint have to eat it.

Next you made the bed , which was a chore. The ned was to heavy and you had to pull it to the side to get the sheet on. When you got the sheet on something slipped put from under it . It looked like a paper . You threw the blanket on the bed and kneeled downing picking the paper up reading it. Youre heart sank.

F/n l/n

Female . 19

Highest payer

Quirkless

Virgin

Phone number

And a photo of you

You stood up shaking in youre skin. The paper fell from youre hands and you held youreself trying to pretend this wasint happening.

Dabi came home soon after funny enough. He had a annoyed look on his face. Guess his plan failed. He saw you holding youreself sitting on the bed and went over sitting with you.

“You ok puppy?” He put his arm around you and you flinched. He blinked watching youre face, you looked terrified.

“Puppy...?”

“The add..” you pointed with a shaky hand.

He looked and shot up cursing . He grabbed the paper setting it on fire. Turning it into nothing in his hand.

“Why do you still have that..”

“Because i forgot to get rid of it “ he didint turn to face you.

“So you know im a..”

“Do you think that matters?” He snapped making you flinch looking up at him. He turned to face you. “Do you think i bought you to just pop so innocent girls cherry?”

You rubbed youre eyes shaking youre head, crying lightly. Dabi rolled his eyes going to you wrapping his arms around you causing you to fall back with him on you.

“I baught you because i wanted to give you a better life, ive told you this puppy. “

“I know..”

“Good. Tomorrow we are going to the League to hang out.”

“Ok..” you dug youre fingers in his hair and he groaned squeezing you. “I bought food..”

“How much money did you take?” He asked looking up seeing youre slightly happy face.

“I stole.. money from the laundry mat.. everyone was distracted so..” you blushed

Dabi laughed loudly and pulled you ontop of him wiping youre eyes. “Thats my good little puppy”

•••

/ @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love . Some Shiggy ♥️

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